“Ozymandias, I had him!” Dolgath raged as he paced back and forth before the vast viewports of his audience chamber. Nelthas was a small, solitary huddled shape at the center of the chamber, watching him.
“Do you realize, this is the same Ozymandias who the Emperor met ten thousand years ago when he still walked among men… The same Ozymandias who foretold the betrayal of Horus and his kin, and who laughed in the Emperor’s face when he refused to accept his revelations…”
Dolgath drew his power sword in a dramatic sweeping gesture. “I hewed him, time and time again I hewed him, and yet never touched him…” Dolgath tossed the crackling power blade onto his desktop. “Exenthion, my faithful blade, forged five thousand years ago by the weapon masters of Mars – useless!” Dolgath spat.
Dolgath suddenly stopped his pacing and moved forward to rest his head against the cold, thick, armor-glass of the viewport. Nelthas moved then. She surged forward from a small huddled shape to a towering form that glided up behind Dolgath. She rested her delicate gloved hands upon his hunched shoulders. He glanced up at her.
“I have nothing left, I have dedicated all my reserves…” he said.
Her phsycomorphic mask looked down upon him with entirely more emotion than he could have imagined. “I have a Baneblade,” she whispered.
Dolgath squared his shoulders and stood to his full height as he looked up at her. “And I still have a few tricks up my sleeve...”