# Bjorn the Fell-Handed

Bjorn pretended to ignore the rantings of the assassin as he walked off, but he was smart enough to know not to actually ignore him. The assassins of the Inquisition were well known in their unfathomable abilities. That being said, the assassin obviously had orders to make sure he was taken alive, otherwise it would have attacked the moment they met eyes. Soon, a being claiming to be an Inquisitor appeared. He turned around for that. Although, being several tons and top-heavy, first, the top rotated round, then the legs turned around in a slow and calculated waddle. He stood facing her. "It is a shame, my dear. Were you not with the Inquisition, and had I not been confined to this metal prison, we might have had passions that they would have sung songs about for millenia to come." he said. "As for my purpose here, you would know better than I. Be it your superiors, be it your men, be it another Inquisitor with their own agenda. Someone took me and placed me in here. Though, I am quite glad. Usually when I'm woken, the Blood Claws force me to tell them what an almighty, ferocious and benevolent demi-god that Leman Russ was... For the last time, Leman was a jerk, and if he hadn't done that stupid maneuver of charging into the Eye of Terror, then the Space Wolves, and the rest of the Imperium would be in a better state than it is now. Now, if you would be so kind as to show me to the Drop Pods, I will quite gladly go make some new stories on whatever planet we are above. Stories which don't involve Wolves of any kind." he said. If he had a face, then it would be scowling at the robotic dog that was accompanying Raiden. "But, I suspect that the Inquisition has plans for me?" he asked. "Maybe putting me in command of the forces of the Ordo Hereticus?" he hadn't actually seen a descent pair of breasts for quite some time.