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Malcador was nervous; a rare thing for the Sigillite. He had found himself once more upon Shangrala the world of swirling mist and ancient wonders...and several headaches the reason for his visit now being among them. He had received reports from Horus in regards to the equipment and weapons brought to bare not only by the Second legion but also their base human auxiliary forces. This equipment had been sought after by the Mechanicum which had led to a brief but brutal skirmish ending in the Mechanicum being exterminated, bodies never found, the scions of Mars had also submitted reports but Malcador knew them to be overly hyperbolic in their accusations.
Walking through the foggy fields the scene would be viewed as haunting to many, the honour guard sent to receive him were always half hidden by the misty shroud and the majority were nought but half seen shadows with glinting emerald eyes from their visors and lenses. But the Sigillite marched on along the so called Giants Road which as he now remembered sirred by the harrowing like scenes about him; was laid over the bones of the Hangmans foes just as many hung from the passing trees.
It began to rain and while an umbrella of empyreal energy kept him dry the coldness still soaked into his ancient bones. He'd time to properly look at the figures about him now...not Astates but standing just as tall, humans encased in powered armour systems reminiscent of those he thought he'd never see again....designs echoing Old Night itself. It filled him with a hopeful nostalgia but also fear, this place was a time capsule to a forgotten....a forbidden past.
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