Well, with the tau gone, and Hank AWOL, that leaves Depressed and Sophrus as the last two to post before a full round.

Decurion Vedius Celer.

Like leeches they came...so many leeches...latching on to the warplogged flesh of the amalgamated carcass, intent on sucking from within it something that they knew not the identity of but knew they had to have; in many forms they came – mercenaries attuned to the Immaterium, a ship of rogues and xenos, and once loyal servants of the Emperor now intent on their own gains in their nearly immortal lives.

Although some vermin already scurried about within the bowels of the filthy wreckage, as new lives set foot upon decks not trod for centuries on end things began to awaken within. Foul alien life-signs down in the belly of the beast, heretical and flesh-eating cults that had been kept alive only by the queer flow of time within the daemon-infested Warp, and other older things that flitted in the shadows and had no name to call them.

From the floor of a deck aboard the once noble Aquila a lone figure began to shudder, their Catalepsean Node and Sus-an Membrane causing the entire transhuman structure to lash out in spasms not of their own making. The figure did not realise what they did, huge fists hammering at the decking, the lit eyes of their helmet far different from the eyes beneath the ceramite which rolled back into the skull of the unfortunate one.

What was happening? Where am I? How long have I slept?!

These unspoken questions came out as grunts and moans from between clenched teeth, everything at once tense and locked up, only for the entire armoured behemoth to go as limp as a fish the next.

The Seventeenth Legion cannot get their hands on them...they must not be allowed to succeed!

Slowly but inexorably the figure lifted itself from the deck, somewhat dazed and curious as to why it's boltgun was no longer present at its side, sweeping its helmet in one direction and them looking to the other – what it saw made the blood within it boil, for all around lay fallen warriors, tens of them, clad in both perfect purple and gold or rusty crimson and gunmetal.

No...no...no.

With a superhuman effort, his legs still ceased up and the power armour doing little to solve that internal problem, Decurion Vedius Celer of the Emperor's Children limped off into the darkness to find both the tools of his trade and that which he had sworn to protect.

Both of them are real Latin; Decurion is a rank in the Legiones Astartes, the other is a name. Where's the confusion?