Shadow of the Emperor
Vashtorr remained in the reception chamber, warped by the power of the Warp.
He leaned one shoulder against a support column that had already transformed from metal into flesh, his posture languid and composed.
The power of Chaos had corroded the surrounding metal, making it sprout flesh.
That flesh covered the once-cold steel surfaces, a dark red that looked as though it had been repeatedly scorched and endlessly reborn.
It scabbed, cracked, and seeped, then grew anew amid the oozing, the cycle continuing without end.
Vashtorr stroked the walls of flesh and metal as he watched Corax enter.
Corax's footsteps echoed through the empty hall.
Like a moving shadow, he detached himself from the deeper darkness beyond the door and stepped into the space Vashtorr occupied.
His gaze swept over the fleshy walls and the mechanical constructs dimly visible in the shadows, then settled on Vashtorr.
"Keep it brief, Vashtorr," Corax said.
He kept walking, only stopping about ten paces from Vashtorr, a distance neither safe nor insulting.
He continued, "I have no interest in your pathetic creations, Vashtorr."
Those things made of flesh and metal might have seemed masterful works to other beings, but to Corax, they were nothing more than heaps of garbage forcibly stitched together.
"I only want my Legion," Corax said.
The Raven Guard Legion and Bella were his bottom line.
He could endure sitting in the same room as a twisted mechanical abomination, endure the writhing walls of flesh and the foul air, endure speaking with an ancient being more at home in this darkness than he was, so long as he could ultimately obtain what he wanted.
"Oh, yes..." Vashtorr's voice carried a slow, drawn-out mockery.
"Your Legion..."
A smile appeared on Vashtorr's face of interwoven metal and flesh.
It