Arrival

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{Welcome, Ilias}
 
I record unto you, unknown and nonexistent listener, from not only a change of abode, but a change of planet entirely. I have found myself, through arduous travel, delivered safely by the Omnissiah to this Hive Caulas. The arrival to the ports was delightfully unceremonious, however the instruction to which I was given tread dangerously upon being lethally inadequate. I wandered for no less than four planetary rotation cycles before locating a route to my new posting. In my travel across this most unsanctimonious, the behaviors of the dwellers was appalling at the very best. Given looks of disgust or quite simply ignored, it was as if my robe of crimson represented a tainted picture, one which none dared to acknowledge. On one occasion, a group of meatlings, collectively less than ten solar rotation cycles old, decided to hurl stones at me. I gave them a fright which they will not soon forget.
 
After my wanderings, I stumbled upon the structure which the local dwellers have dubbed 'the Fabrikathedral'. The structure itself seems to be some horrible debauchery of a manufactorum now repurposed into a horrid seat of power for the local Ecclesiarchy. My direct approaches to the structure itself were met with sneers and jeers by militants and church-goers alike, and it was only by the Omnissiah's will that I managed to locate a representative between the local Ecclesiarchy and Mechanicum operations. He led me to my posting post-haste, and disappeared just as quickly. His name I do not recall, albeit he seemed helpful enough. It was without delay that I entered the large prismic building to which I am now tethered.
 
The journey once within was to rival any hardship I had encountered in my entire lifetime before, including my Adept trials. The House of Conversion (a manufactorum of servitors and similar monotask meat-product) seems to consist of no less than a few collective kilometers of winding tunnels and corridors. Immediately upon entry, the structure became disagreeable with my components. My gyroscope, compass, and orientation software all simultaneously malfunctioned, and the disorientation of the pulsating walls was quite a shock to my gastric system, forcing my bile pump to work in thrice speed. No less than twice did I become disoriented beyond belief and wander back to the entrance by pure accident. It was of my opinion that the design of this structure was a cruel joke, a test of faith, or a divine Omnissian punishment, perhaps all three.
 
Eventually I did come upon my station of work, three non-concentric rings occupied by menials and servitors alike, hovering over operating slabs with servitor meat in varying stages of Conversion laid prostrate upon them. It was through advancing within the rings that I encountered my three compatriots: A Psychologian of the Divisio Psychologis, an Acuitor-Silica of Divisio Cybernetica, and an Enginseer of the Divisio Fabricator. I spoke to them all only in passing before I was forced to visit the berthings to recharge, during which I am now regaling you this entry. May the eyes of the Omnissiah be upon us all.
 
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