"Say, Hercules," Doram finally said, unable to hold back any longer, his voice tinged with laughter and a trace of dazed disbelief.
"What exactly have you been doing these past ten-odd years? Eating shells? Or living on steel bars?" He gestured upward, moving his hand from the top of his own head to the middle of Hercules's breastplate.
"I remember you were already built like an ox back then, but you weren't this... this..."
He could not find the right word. Standing before Hercules, Doram felt less like a newly promoted general than a child gazing up from the feet of an ancient statue of a warrior.
"And another thing." Doram's gaze swept over Hercules's shoulders, broad enough to race horses on, his arms as thick as battering rams, and the massive body that filled every inch of Power Armour designed for a "standard build" of over two meters tall. He could not help clicking his tongue in wonder again.
"Even compared to those other... uh, Astartes lords, aren't you ridiculously big?"
"I've met a few of them, and they were all giants, sure, but none of them were as..." He gestured again and shook his head.
"What kind of 'special formula' have you been eating?"
Hercules looked down at Doram, who chattered away before him, his face full of curiosity and the teasing familiarity unique to old friends. A gentle chuckle seemed to come from beneath Hercules's faceplate.
"Ah, that..." Hercules raised a large armoured hand and rubbed the side of his Helmet, looking a little embarrassed.
"It wasn't any special formula, Doram. Just... a little 'accident' at the genetic level."
He paused, seemingly choosing simpler, more accessible words. After all, explaining the complexities and individual variations of Astartes augmentation surgery to a Mortals was no easy task.
"You