Editing M43 (section)

===Fast Times in the Eye of Terror===
'''9 ??? 214.M42'''
: Vulkan, the lord of the Salamanders, one of the few opponents to the Codex Astartes and one of the fewer perpetuals in the galaxy, was one of the strangest inhabitants of the Eye of Terror. Not strange because of some crazy tentacles, or some eyes on his ass but because he didn’t have any of those. In fact, he wasn’t even pledged to one of the gods of the realm. He called the Eye home because that's where the enemy was. Vulkan was a man of the forge. So in his post-human wisdom, he decided that he would carve out a small forge on a moon in the Eye and perfect the tools of the Imperium. In the past 10 millennia, Vulkan has perfected 2 patterns of regular Power Armor, 4 dedicated versions of Terminator Armor. The powered suits were not his only projects. He tweaked some of the weapons he could pick up off the dead traitorous Astartes, but his true triumphs were new weapon platforms for Astartes. Of course the most amazing thing to come of his hermetic projects were his own suit of Power Armor. Completely ditching the Terminator pattern he had, and, after 47 centuries, he had created a new pattern of armor wearable by only Primarchs and possibly skilled Companions. The Nemean Power Armor was a marvel, looking and functioning like something out of a Dark Age STC. 


: While the constant work and fighting kept Chaos’ whisperings at bay, it didn’t keep his own whisperings at bay. After so long, he could no longer deny the fact that he was lonely. The daemons he encountered would much rather eat him than begin to talk. And the humans, oh the humans, they were almost worse. They talked alright, but it was gibbering, and mad ravings. They might be willing to sit down and have tea, but only if that tea was your blood and the cup was your skull. So he kept to himself.


: The loneliness was not to last. In the early beginnings of the 42nd millennium, things changed. He began to see less daemons and traitorous scum. But in their absence, something else filled the void. A glimmer in his head. Unbeknownst to him, these were fragments of his Father. His loneliness no longer increased. As a couple more fragments found their way to the primarch, he eventually decided that he had done enough, had enough. It was time to leave the Eye of Terror.