Iron-Scale marched into the western plains.
Hundreds of thousands of defeated soldiers huddled in sprawling, disorganized camps across the cratered landscape. Cybernetically enhanced dwarves sat beside pale blood-cultists and shivering avian-hybrids. The massive horde parted, clearing a path as the Inquisitor approached the center of the encampment.
The Lizard-men fanned out behind Iron-Scale, gripping their Star-Iron spears. A towering cyber-dwarf elder stepped forward from the masses and bowed his head respectfully.
"The Ka-Lam-Tee claims this workforce," Iron-Scale hissed, his pneumatic respirator clicking. "You will be categorized by your biological and mechanical utility. The Spiral wastes no potential."
Iron-Scale pointed a metal claw at Fin-bar to carry out the rest of the things. "I don't want to be the one to mess this up."
