Ümabar was working his way along the corridors and walkways of the Am’otep on his way to see Varek… There was no doubt that he was looking to discuss Ümabar’s strike against the Greenskins reserve forces.
Of course Varek could have just read the Lord’s mind but that wasn’t how Varek worked. Whilst he wasn’t ignorant to the benefits these new bodies provided, he was also conscious that he didn’t want to turn into a machine on the inside too.
Arriving at the Overlord’s quarters, Ümabar was granted access by the Lychguard stood guard at the door, their mighty warscythes being drawn to attention at the Lord’s presence.
Upon entering the familiar chambers, Ümabar was greeted by the feel of carpet under his feet as his motion servos accounting for its softer texture giving way to his weight, his optical sensors had to adjust to the calming blue lights that lit the room and his atmospheric perception protocols were identifying the smell of herbs and spices.
“Come my friend, take a seat,” Varek invited as he walked into the room, gesturing towards a chair in the middle of the room. He had removed his external armour and replaced it with a robe made of a rare creature that Ümabar couldn’t quite remember the name of.
Taking a seat on the chair that had been set out for him, Ümabar patiently waited for Varek to finish tinkering with some sort of device at the far side of the room before walking back and taking a seat opposite him.
“I hear it your game proved a difficult quarry?” Varek finally asked.
“Yes Overlord, the orks-“
“Please Ümabar,” Zarek inturrputed, “You will address me as Zarek in these chambers; we are equals when battles are not being fought or politics being decided.”
“If that is the case as you keep telling me, Zarek, then tell me,” Ümabar responded, leaning forward on his seat, “why are your chambers nicer than mine?”
Zarek voice unit let out a scraping chuckle at the comment and Ümabar reciprocated in a moment of clarity between the two.
“That my friend,” Varek replied once his laughter had died down, “is because you’re not the one who has to deal with the political nonsense with the other Tomb Worlds.”
“You mean keeping a small galaxy between them and us? A fair trade-off I think,” Ümabar commented. “As I was saying,” he continued, “the orks had been hiding a fully grown Squiggoth in that infernal cave of theirs.”
As Ümabar continued to describe the events of the previous day, the flair and soul in his tale would flicker, slipping between his real consciousness and the fake consciousness that Varek was trying so hard to remove from all his warriors, subjects…friends. During battle, when their senses were heightened, their consciousness usually remained with them permanently however, during the duller hours of waiting for the next hunt, it seemed like their sparks of life were slowly and heartbreakingly diminishing.