As the Arkke slips back into real space, the boughs of the Yggdrassilliume shiver and rattle in the wind.
Hearing it's clarion call, their scrying confirmed, Hephestus and Lod emerge from their hovel in the Amphitheatre of Silence.
The Mangii Touts, having sought the aid of a witch in order to guide them along the pilgrim route emerge from the sunken hand cart tracks.
The Cult of the True Journey emerge on the far side of the sump seeking the wisdom of the Pandoricalle.
Making progress into the gloom of the Arkke, the buzzmenne discover they are not alone. The lone fighter seems lost and bewildered. Edgy and trigger happy, the buzzmenne despatch the poor soul on sight.
Advancing unseen, the Cult make their way across the sump.
The gangers of the Mouldii Waarps lay eyes on a warrior god clad in armour of pale purple, inlaid with gold. His heavily armoured proportions vast and distorted like those of a giant.
The beautiful and terrifying vision sows blind panic and discord amongst the Mouldii Waarps, scattering them back to the pontoons of the sump.
Careering along the destroyed track on a knackered hand cart, several buzzmenne thugs are scattered as the cart crashes to an abrupt halt. Before their wits can be gathered the armoured giant passes through the battered gangers as a ghost or vestigial memory of the Arkke's past lives. Truly this place is cursed.
Passing by long-forgotten charnel houses, the Mangii Touts wyrd is enthralled by a beauteous vision emerging from the sump mists.
Meanwhile, Hephestus and Mordekei press their hands into the dirt of the Arkke, their combined mental concentrations propelling Lod into savage combat with an interloper, set to bring darkness to the boughs of the Yggdrassillium tree.
Having been scattered back to the rickety sump pipe bridges, the Mouldii Waarps engage in combat with the Cult of the True Journey - their distinctive blue robes shining in the gloom. Duelling on the slippery pipes is precarious and savage indeed. The Cult zealot is thrust from the bridge, falling awkwardly into a vessel commandeered by more of the cult, overbalancing the craft and knocking it's passenger into the filthy mire.
The growing commotion aboard the Arkke brings other ne'er do wells into the area - some using the cover of the arga barga to pass by unnoticed, others for more nefarious reasons.
Stryderre, banished and ancient fighter emerges seeking revenge on those who cursed him to a life of hell alone in the treacherous depths of the Arkke.
Legion, Legion, he is many; Legion, Legion he is one.
Taking advantage of the chaos emerging outside, Legion bursts from an abandoned service tunnel to try to break through the Arkke.
Hephestus surveys the interlopers emerging from their holes, scanning the interlopers trying to ascertain who poses the greatest threat to the Pandoricalle. In the mire Hephestus notices the faint tang of one of his bretheren on the air - the scrying pool has not lied.
With the Shippe hanging in real space, a Medicant Priest transports aboard, staggered and outraged by the carnage and debauchery within.
From the relative safety of his pontoon, the Mouldii Waarps's Bone Witch seeds discord amongst the hated Mangii Touts. The gasmasked loons, now rallied, jeer and howl as the opposing gangers break.
Rampaging from the carnage, the vast bulk of the Metalispinax servitor comes crashing through the once hallowed chambers.
Enthralled, the Legion Tech-Adept is drawn toward the ancient and revered creature.
Taking advantage of the escalating discord as pilgrim day reaches it's apex, Mother Head drops from above, taking pop shots at the Cult of the True Journey as she makes a dash toward the Yggdrassillium, site of her ire.
The Cult leader tries in vain to halt the slow progress of the Mouldii Waarps outriders.
Appearing again, as if on a loop, the gilded giant begins his slow passage through the processual corridor of the Arkke, scattering the Cult scouts before him.
Unperturbed, her hatred of the Yggdrassil far outweighing even the terror induced by the armoured giant, Mother Head breaks for the base of the tree.
Enraged and delighted in equal measure by the carnage about her, the Yggdrassill spreads it's roots into the depths of the Arkke, seeking to sup of the blood of the fallen.
Unable to break free from the lure of the sump Siren, the Mouldii Waarps enlisted wyrd edges ever closer toward the bank of the Sump.
The Yggdrassil shudders in delight as it's roots are enriched by the fallen.
As the Mendicant Priest engages with the Mangii Touts, the Yggdrassil roots lashing at all combatants, a deep wailing noise reverberates along the edges of the world as the Arkke slips back into the Empyrean. The sounds of prayer, dread and battle resonate in the hearts of all aboard the craft, shattering hope and distracting combatants.
As the sounds slowly begin to recede, the Mangii Touts take advantage of the Priest's weakness, slaying him and feeding his corpse to the Ygg roots.
Finding his prey, Stryderre rushes the buzzmenne and tears them apart - leaping in a frenzy from fighter to fighter.
The steersman of the Cult engages with the leader of the Mouldii Waarps, the horrifying form of the Metalispinax looming in the distance, panicked and seemingly fleeing.
Legion emerges from the gloom, shadowing the Metalispinax.
Enraged by the audacity of Mother Head's coup, Hephestus summons all his mental strength, reaching out and lifting a vast cloud of debris from the wreck of the Arkke floor, thrusting them into her back and stopping her advance.
Buoyed by the death of Mother Head, and drinking of the slaughter, the roots of the Yggdrassil spread further than ever before.
Speeding along the tracks of the Hand cart ruins, Hanin, legendary Sump Huntress emerges into the pilgrimage antechamber - her sights set firmly on her prey, the Metalspinax.
Far above the Yggdrassil, the roosting gloom skull seizes the opportunity to attack, blinding various fighters and unleashing it's hatchlings into the Arkke.
The binary screams of the gloomskulls awaken nests of feral servo-skulls, scurrying into the mire to claim their foe.
Lod looks on as the rival Wyrd is drawn to his death in the foetid waters of the sump, his vestigial arms shivering involuntarily in delight.
Sensing his foe is momentarily distracted, the gloomskull hatchling takes the opportunity to strike, blinding Lod in the process. Displacing himself away from the assault, Lod snese the close presence of the bretheren, Navigator Thirwell, stumbling lost through the gloom. As one, Mordekei and Lod turn and begin marching toward the site of the psychic disruption.
With the psychic energies reaching a fever pitch, a great hulking beast lurches from the darkness, it's scrying mirror visage and psychic shield hood transmitting waves of nausea through the throng of witches. The great living coffin and mummified corpse of a fallen psyker, it's soul bound as ancient and living war engine rampaging toward the site of the distrubance.
Sickened by the living weapon, Mordekei strengthens his resolve to fell the great beast, summoning all his psychic reserves in defence. With the frenzy of psychic chanting reaching an crescendo, Mordekei opens his cloak to face the beast, his skin a mottled sea of a thousand eyes opening to allow the power of the warp to seep through into the Arkke. Malefic creatures aroused by the great surge of power slip into the ship attacking all in their way.
Steadfast in his goal, Lod lurches at the lost Navigator, knocking him to the floor, and throwing him over his vast shoulder.
'We were once as you are, you shall be as we. Come brother. Home we go.'
Awakened by the psychic maelstrom outside, the Pandoricalle emerges from her hovel, relishing in the franzy and bloodlust outside, marvelling at the invigorated Yggddrassil tree.
Stepping from the bloodied boughs of the Ygg, the Pandoricalle retires with the Navigatorii into the Amphiteatre of Silence. The binding ritual of the Sun King to be enacted upon their captured prey as outside the carnage rages unabated and the screams etch into the night.