Dóri ascended through the ship to its upper levels, his mind racing and heart pounding in his chest. He was already rattled from his encounter with the High Kâhl, but now he had to face an even higher authority. His heart raced and his palms grew sweaty as he ascended the steps towards the vessel's main cogitator.
Pushing open the heavy metal doors, he entered a vast chamber bathed in a pale blue light. At its center, lay an immense globe-like fixture of lights, wires, circuity pulsating with cold, electric plasma. It was not an Ancestor Core, but it was the closest they had to one. A temporary auxiliary cogitator, designed as a portable conduit for the Votann on journeys that would take Kinhosts far from their holds for extended periods of time. It was slower, less reliable, had a vastly smaller memory, and lacked the ability to store the collective memories of their ancestors or create new Kin. It could only serve the barest of needs, such as storing basic blueprints and running the automated portions of the ship, though even at that it was beginning to fail. A lone figure in robes and carrying a tall staff was silhouetted in the stark glow of the auxiliary core, his silent presence standing out in the crackling hum of the immense machinery.
Dóri stepped forth. Before he could speak, the Grimnyr's voice preempted him.
"You wish to return to Thrain." The Grimnyr said.
"L-lord Durvald, I-" Dóri said.
"Your words are unnecessary, Forge-master. I know why you have come and what you wish to say. You need not conjure justifications, I am aware of the grave threat the issue of the purifier poses to our Kin, and the remedy you seek." Durvald said.
"So… you approve?" Dóri said.
"Were it the only reason… I would." Durvald said.
"What? I don't-" Dóri said.
"Your desires ripple through the noetic fields. I know there is more than necessity drawing you to Thrain." Durvald said.
Dóri remained silent.
"I will not stand in your way. Do what you must, Dóri Feldrynkin." the Grimnyr said.
Dóri winced at the uttering of his ancestors' name, knowing full well the meaning behind the elder's words. Durvald was the only remaining Grimnyr from before the fall of Thrain and was thus elected Lord Grimnyr in absentia. Not that he was in any way unqualified, as it was his guidance that had allowed the Kin of the Dunmyre Syndicate to survive what should have been their doom. While it was true that the Votann of Thrain had been lost, traces of them remained in the minds and circuits of all that had once interfaced with them. The Lord Grimnyr could channel these faint whispers, and the Kin would hold them tightly like embers of a long-extinguished fire.
"One more thing, Dóri Feldrynkin, before you embark." Durvald said.
The Grimnyr turned to Dóri, his eyes crackling with faint tendrils of electricity. Dóri's heart rate accelerated as he witnessed what was now an incredibly rare event for his Kin: The Grimnyr was channeling.
"Dóri." He said, his voice thundering like dozens of voices modulated together. "Your Wyrd… it's trajectory… asymptotic. Beware… the Machineblight." Durvald said, before his eyes dimmed and returned to a dull glow. "That is all." Durvald said, returning his gaze to the crackling energies of the auxiliary core.
Dóri closed the door to his workshop, breathing a sigh of relief. He had been faced with two of the most terrifying Kin in the entire fleet and lived to tell the tale, a feat not many could attest to.
"Did the Councilmen approve?" Vêlyma said, startling Dóri out of his relaxed stupor.
"Ah, uh, y-yes. The mission has been approved." Dóri said.
"So, it's decided?" Leman said. "Good, you're lucky we didn't change our minds in the time it took for you to return." Admu jabbed him in the side with her elbow.
"When do we start?" Admu said, eager to help.
"Tomorrow we'll requisition a shuttle to get us planetside and set out as soon as we reach the hold. As for tonight? We've got a little… pre-mission ritual to hold." Dóri said.
Leman and Admu were led by the Kin down into the depths of the ship, passing through cramped and poorly lit corridors. The ship seemed decidedly emptier and less active than the last time they had ventured through it. At last, they arrived at an immense, stone-carved door that seemed strangely out of place in the otherwise technologically advanced ship. Upon its surface were etched a number of strange runes and pictographs, perhaps meant to record events or figures of the Kin's ancient past. Dóri turned to Leman and Admu with a gravely serious expression.
"What you're about to see is something few Far-spacers have ever bore witness to. It's a sacred event that our ancestors have practiced for countless generations." Dóri said.
He and Vêlyma worked to push open the immense slabs of carved rock, slowly nudging them open. A deluge of light and cacophonous sound flooded over them, and Leman's eyes took a few moments to adjust to the bright light after spending so much time in the dim tunnels. The deafening sound of music, laughter, and raucous mayhem filled the air. Thousands of Kin were gathered in the cavernous hall, lit by immense cauldrons of yellow plasma that resembled a combination of bonfires and miniature suns. A chaotic and heavy-sounding anthem blared from immense speakers hanging down from the arched ceiling, which many of the Kin followed along with by drunkenly slurring lyrics in their native tongue and banging loudly on the tables. Nearly every single Kin in attendance held at least one large mug filled with a frothing mixture - most had two or more. Some were dancing on tables, others gathered in circles and shouted at one another with wide smiles painted upon their rough-hewn faces. The great hall was a maelstrom of bedlam and drunken revelry, a stark contrast from the otherwise orderly and disciplined demeanor Leman had seen from most of the Kin in his time here. Admu's face lit up with wonder and excitement.
"This reminds me of home!" Admu said cheerfully.
"I was just about to say the same." Leman said, bearing a wry smirk.
"You're lucky you got here when you did, we only hold a Bazulûnfest once every cycle." Dóri said, grabbing a full mug off of a nearby conveyer belt. It was connected to a large, automated machine that grabbed empty mugs, cleaned them with jets of superheated water, and refilled them with a bubbling amber fluid.
"Ooh, can I try some?" Admu said, reaching for a full mug.
Leman blocked her with his hand, feeling apprehensive about the situation.
"Let's… hold off on that for the moment." Leman said. He turned back to Dóri. "So, you just brought us down here for drinks?" Leman said.
"Oh, not just that. We've got somethin' special planned." Dóri said.
The Kin, previously occupied by their drunken merriment, began to take notice of the two outsiders. Nudging and whispering to their peers, the entire crowd was made aware of their presence and gathered around them in a large circle. The music lowered, and the large burning lights above were focused through metal apertures onto Leman and Admu.
"I know what you're capable of… but the rest of the Kin? You're still nothing but an outsider. In order for them to put their trust in us, you've got to prove your worth in a little contest." Dóri said. "Seeing as I'm the one who brought you here, I only think it fair that I should be yer opponen-"
The Kin was interrupted by a thunderous slam, caused by the hilt of an oversized hammer. The crowd gasped and murmured in hushed tones, parting to make way for the new arrival. Adorned in bright red armor that looked a match for a space marine terminator, the High Kâhl himself strode forth. Leman instantly recognized him as a seasoned warrior, his gait and mannerisms belying an air of confidence that only decades of battlefield experience could bring.
"I will be the Far-spacer's opponent." Dòmhnagh said.
The Kin surrounding them gasped and gawked in disbelief at the events transpiring before them. Leman scanned the room before returning his narrow gaze to the warrior before him.
"W-wait a minute Dòmhnagh, let's not be too hasty…" Dóri said.
"You said you wished to prove their worthiness. What better measure of worth is there than to face me?" Dòmhnagh said with a steely-eyed expression.
The High Kâhl stepped forward towards Leman, staring up at the tall stranger.
If it's a fight they want, I'll oblige. Leman thought. Will weapons be allowed? How can I use the surroundings to my advantage?
Leman's mind lit up with all the pre-combat routines and thought patterns he had developed over millennia of non-stop combat. He was prepared for anything. Then, a group of Kin hobbled out of the crowd carrying one of the tables into the center of the gathered circle, followed by two chairs. A towering Ironkin lumbered forth, cradling an immense iron keg the size of a dreadnought and planting it next to the table, lastly, a female Kin sauntered over and loudly slammed two mugs down on the table. Dòmhnagh pulled one of the chairs out, planted his hammer next to it, and took a seat.
"Well? What are you waiting for, Far-spacer?" Dòmhnagh said.
Leman stared in disbelief for a moment, then a wide grin spread across his face as he realized what was happening. He chuckled, his laughter slowly growing into a thunderous guffaw.
"You laughin' at our traditions?" Dòmhnagh said, a combative glint in his eye.
"Far from it, Kin." Leman said, taking the seat opposite of Dòmhnagh. "Contests of drink are an ancient tradition of my people as well… I merely question your choice of opponent." Leman said, bearing his teeth with a competitive grin.
"Is that so?" Dòmhnagh said.
"In fact… it is a contest that I have never been bested in by any man." Leman said.
Even my father. He thought.
"Bold words, outsider. Let's see if you can back 'em up." Dòmhnagh said.
Admu patted Leman on the shoulder.
"What's going on?" she whispered. "Are you two going to fight with those drinking vessels?"
"No, no. It's a… game of sorts." Leman said. "Don't worry, I'll handle it."
Automated taps emerged from the large metal keg, pouring jets of the frothing brew into the awaiting mugs. Dòmhnagh grabbed the mug and looked Leman dead in the eye.
"I'll go first. Give you a head start, outsider." Dòmhnagh said.
He raised the mug to his whiskered face, downing the liquid like water and slamming the mug down on the table.
"Your turn." Dòmhnagh said.
Leman raised the mug to his face, and his enhanced senses immediately analyzed the chemical composition of the brew. A feeling of alarm shot through him; his instincts screamed that whatever was in this mug was not for human consumption. Luckily, Leman was far from an ordinary human. He raised the vessel to his lips and felt the cold liquid flow down his throat. The brew's strength was only comparable to the raw, undiluted toxicity of Fenrisian ale, with hints of industrial waste and a distinct aftertaste of battery acid. He could almost taste a faint trace of Promethium. The Preomnor organ in his chest, designed to filter out poisons and diseases before digestion, began to faintly burn as the liquid passed through it. Leman slammed the empty mug down on the table.
"Well? How was it?" Dòmhnagh said in a mocking tone.
"A fine drink... I think I'm ready for another. After you, of course." Leman said.
A wicked smile spread across the High Kâhl's face.
"Seems you're no lightweight, outsider. You've passed the entrance exam. Time for the real competition to begin." Dòmhnagh said.
Admu tapped Leman's shoulder.
"Mister Enoch, do you think I could try some?" Admu said.
"Just leave this to me, Tia. I'll handle it." Leman said.
"Alright… I'll just… sit over here." Admu said, pulling out a chair and sitting off to the side with a dejected look.
The Primarch and the High Kâhl continued drinking tankard after tankard at an inhuman pace. The crowd gathered around, formerly raucous and loud, had grown silent in disbelief.
"I can't believe it… they're drinkin' pure, unfiltered draught. You could lubricate a Land Fortress with that stuff. Besides, I've never seen anyone keep up with Dòmhnagh for more than 10 rounds." Dóri said to Ykkhí. "What round are they on now?"
"30? 40? I lost count around 25." Ykkhí said.
Admu had been sulking in the corner for the entire time, a bored pout plastered on her face. She heard heavy metal footsteps behind her and turned to see the Ironkin Vêlyma standing next to her.
"Not much for drink?" Vêlyma said.
"My father, uncles and aunt never let me, they always said I was too young." Admu said. "My aunt even tricked me with fruit juice once."
"You have my sympathies… though I couldn't drink even if I wanted to." Vêlyma said. "What about your friend over there?"
"Mister …Enoch?" Admu said. "Well, we've been together for a while now. We've fought alongside one another several times… but sometimes I think he still treats me like a lost fawn."
"Far be it from me to intervene, but I hear from my brothers that alcohol can often loosen one's tongue, if you catch my meaning." Vêlyma said.
Admu rubbed her chin and began thinking.
"Another!" Leman shouted.
The hydraulic nozzle dispensed more of the industrial-strength ale. He raised the mug to his mouth and downed the entire concoction, letting out a loud breath once he'd finished. He'd noticed that his vision was starting to blur and wobble ever-so-slightly, and movements seemed to be delayed from his thoughts by a split-second. For most, these would have been the typical hallmarks of an average night of drinking, but for a demigod with a genetically engineered digestive and circulatory system designed to neutralize any poison or toxin it came into contact with, being genuinely inebriated was a rather rare experience for him. The last time he could remember such a feeling was during the Great Crusade, when the Space Wolves had returned from their Wheels of Fire Campaign and settled into the newly constructed Fang. The battle-weary warriors spent nearly 3 days straight carousing, feasting, and drinking Fenrisian ale… when Leman awoke on the 4th day, he found himself wearing his leg armor on backwards and the corpse of a Kraken beached outside on the peaks of Asaheim. He never did figure out exactly how they got it there.
"G..give me another." Dòmhnagh said, his voice raspy and strained.
The High Kâhl was doing everything he could to mask the extreme symptoms of intoxication he was experiencing. He clenched his fists until they became numb in an attempt to prevent his himself from shaking and was using all of his willpower to avoid vomiting or simply fainting outright. His suit came with built-in blood purifiers, and his genetic cloneskein as a pedigree warrior meant his base biological systems were second to none in the ranks of the Kin. Despite all of this, he was struggling immensely and only his pride was keeping him conscious. He frankly had no idea how this outsider was still alive after drinking so much… nor really himself, either. Nonetheless, he raised the mug and reluctantly downed another flagon. He just hoped he wouldn't go blind after the next round.
Leman ordered another refill but felt a slight tapping on his shoulder. Ale in hand, he somewhat awkwardly turned around to see Admu looking down at him with a sullen look.
"Ah, Ad- or, I mean… Tia!" Leman said, his voice slightly slurred.
"Mister Enoch…? Are you okay? You sound strange." Admu said.
"What? Oh, this? It's a trifle, I've drunk more than this. Like the time I beat my father in a drinking contest! And then he gave me my own army. Good times." Leman said.
"Well, do you think maybe I could try some? Seeing how much you've been drinking, it can't be poisonous." Admu said, as convincingly as she could. She was driven more by stubborn principle than any real desire to taste the strange drink.
"Huh?" Leman said. He looked over to Dòmhnagh, who was doubled over on the table and cradling his head in his hands. "Kin, is that… against the rules?"
"Wha- who cares?" Dòmhnagh said, his face plastered with a look of pained confusion. "Just… just don't count it!" After he was done speaking, his head dropped back down onto the table.
"Well…" Leman said, turning back to Admu with an unsure look.
His mind was a messy blur thanks to the copious amounts of alcohol mixing his confused emotions and rational ideations into a swirling mixture of indiscernible thoughts. Words began coming from his mouth before he had any chance to think about what he was saying.
"...I mean, it's only been a few months since you'd never been outside of that forest. You were so sheltered you thought I was a dog when we first met! You're still young and… what's the word… immature? How's about when all this is over, you find your father and let him give you yer first drink, eh?" Leman said.
He looked up with a placating smile, and his face immediately melted into a mortified expression. Admu was staring daggers at him, her fists clenched by her side and her face contorted into a furious scowl.
"Immature?" Admu said, her voice quivering with frustration. "After everything we've been through?"
"Maybe that… came out wrong." Leman said.
Admu took a deep breath, and looked over at the tall, steel keg still full of the industrial brew. She calmly walked over to the metal canister, forcefully pushing the towering Ironkin away. She grasped one end of the keg's top, digging her fingers into the metal and causing it to dent and warp like aluminum foil. In one, swift motion she tore the entire tank of ale open, tossing the large hunk of metal to the side where it crashed into the stone floor. The crowd watched in stunned silence. Dòmhnagh's eyes bulged with disbelief as Admu lifted the entire 15,000-liter tankard, tipping its contents into her mouth. Dóri and Ykkhí stared with their mouths agape, while Vêlyma's voice modulator buzzed with amused laughter.
"That's one way to show him, Far-spacer!" she said.
Leman could only raise his hands and stutter, equal parts shocked and amazed by what he was witnessing. Over a period of several minutes Admu drained the immense reservoir of alcohol into her mouth, not stopping for a moment and spilling not a single drop. Finally, after draining the last liter of brew from the cistern, she tossed the hollow metal container aside and exhaled loudly. She spent a moment panting, catching her breath after the legendary act she had just performed.
"Hmmm…" Admu said, a look of pleasant surprise on her face. "That was actually pretty… good…"
Her eyes rolled back into her head, and she began to sway from side to side. After losing the battle against the inconceivable amount of alcohol she had just imbibed, Admu began to fall like a towering oak tree felled by a woodsman's axe. She crashed to the floor on her back, her eyes closed, a serene look on her face, and snoring loudly.
"Ah to hell with it. Do whatever the hell you want with the outsiders, Dóri. I'm goin' to bed." Dòmhnagh said, slowly rising from his chair and stumbling back to his quarters.
"T-Tia? Are you… alright?" Leman said, waving his hands in front of her.
"Hrm… five… more… minutes… papa" Admu muttered in her sleep, weakly waving her harm before it fell limp once again.
After unsuccessfully trying to wake the sleeping demigoddess, Leman instead tried lifting her up so he could carry her back to their beds. Struggling for several minutes, he turned to the towering Ironkin who carried the large keg and had been pushed aside moments ago.
"Do you… mind… giving me some help?" Leman said, exerting himself just to keep her upper body lifted up.
The Ironkin lended the struggling Primarch his aid, lifting up Admu's legs. His servos began to whine and sputter as the unexpected load strained his motors, but he managed to keep her lifted. Leman and the Ironkin slowly trudged out of the great hall while the stunned crowd looked on in stupefaction, while an unconscious Admu continued to snore in deep slumber with a contended look upon her face.