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Xefoer stood at the helm of the bridge, gazing towards the cloud-covered blue planet the ship was orbiting. He noted an orbital defence station, abandoned, the Blood Pact having cleared out all the Imperial forces. He imagined moving his armoured fist around the station, and slowly crushed his fist around it. As if by perfect chance, the station detonated, creaing a bright explosion filling the deck with a warm yellow glow. Beneath his armoured helm, the infamous Lord smiled, his scarred flesh cracking. Behind him, Grota Rar walked, approaching him and raising a cough as to catch Xefoers attention.

'Lord, the Blood Pact are on ship. Needless to say we are not happy about it, mind.' he nervously glanced around; apart from the servitors on deck controlling the ship, it was just him and Xefoer, who was still staring into the ruins and debris of the destroyed station.

'Look at the scanners, Rar. The Imperial Fists appear to be heading towards our position. A large amount of them, in fact. I ordered our fleet off planetside for this reason. I knew the pathetic Imperials would send a call, and I knew Dorn's lapdogs would answer it. In truth I counted on it.'

Lord Xefoer slowly turned to around, walking towards the helmsmans' throne. Picking up a discarded piece of servitor, he examined the rotting bones, decaying flesh and rusting metal. Encraved in it's greyish skin were several marks of the Ruinious powers, the eight pointed star, and other indescribable marks. He moved it onto the throne, and as he placed it down, the bones shattered into a dusty mess on the chair.

'Our time is short, and oh so brittle.' Xefoer exclaimed, picking up the still intact skull of the decayed servitor. Crushing it beneath his armoured fist, he extended his lightning claws as the matter seeped through his fingers. As if performing an ancient piece of theatre onstage, he lifted his hand into the air and tipped the remaining dust out.

'Grota. Our conversations are always ones of intellect, are they not? I grow weary of morons, who seem to inhabit this galaxy. Who kill, like an Ork, just for pleasure and fun. We don't kill to please ourselves, that is not what our God wills. We kill for Him. A glory lost today, is a glory gained...when my plan will complete, the rivers of the Auris system will run red with glorious blood, and their shall be mountains of skulls. Pray tell, is this not desirable?'