“Stay here. Stay quiet. If you make a sound Iaxus or Velcoran will shoot you. If I return and find you dead I’ll know your own incompetence put you there. If I come back and find you and Velcoran there I’ll know he killed you out of hand,” the words were curt and to the point. Any wide-eyed expectance from Nihil that his master cared for him was instantly crushed. Coryphaus turned his back on Nihil, striding to catch up with the remnants of his warband. Telemachus glanced to Coryphaus as the sorcerer pushed his way to the front, “You put a lot of faith in that boy.” Coryphaus kept his eyes forward, “I put a lot of faith in you, as well. That doesn’t say anything about me.” Telemachus snorted, “You’re right about that. Says that you’re either an idiot or weak – and in my opinion, you’re both.” Telemachus maglocked his knife to his thigh, drawing out his bolt pistol before doing the same with Mortis Lux, ejecting the old magazine and locking in a new one before once more retrieving his sword. Coryphaus smiled mirthlessly beneath his helmet, “How close are we to our target?”The xenos had been a fortuitous surprise, all and all. The Night Lords wandering through the halls of the station – the walls decorated with blood and corpses from the torturous rampage of the Dark Eldar. “Just ahead – that was where the Cruor Redemptor sighted it before we left to come aboard,” Telemachus ignited Mortis Lux as they began to close on their objective. “They’ll be different from us, you know…” Coryphaus murmured, igniting his claws and drawing his plasma pistol – he was feeling as close to exhausted as he had since the Battle of Terra. “They aren’t meant to be us. They’re meant to be numbers – bodies,” guns barked as they emerged into the area. Dark Eldar were blown apart or melted and burned down as the Night Lords emerged. The casual butchery was a marked contrast from their earlier engagements – but the cringing xenos, lacking their leader and stunned by the communication silence were swiftly dispatched. Screams and whimpers continued from the killing ground – huddled and dirty masses staring fearfully at the lightning-wreathed warriors. Telemachus scanned the group of unwashed and scarred humanity before swiftly disregarding them. “More slaves for the Redemptor, Hapshan – stay and guard them. Coryphaus – since you love mortals so much, find the one that looks to have been in charge and ask him where the Mechanicus vessel is docked.” Coryphaus and Hapshan bent to the task – the larger Night Lord panning the area they had emerged from with his heavy bolter as Coryphaus moved slowly between the cringing, fear-filled humans. He stopped at one, eyeing the woman up and down before pointing a claw to her. She wasn’t like the rest, her jaw was clenched and there was utter defiance in her eyes. Coryphaus both liked and hated that, liked it because it showed she was not weak, but hated it because he felt she would be difficult to break if it came to it. “You, were you master of this station before the xenos attack?” The woman continued to glare unwaveringly at Coryphaus, “And if I was? Why would I tell you?” Her voice was pitched low, her body trembling slightly. Coryphaus tilted his head, “Why… I am a Space Marine. Isn’t it the duty of every citizen of the Imperium to pay us heed and give in to our requests?” “You are no Space Marine,” she spat back – gasps and sobs came from the crowd. On an instinctual level these people had, of course, known that the spiked and vicious creatures they had just been saved by were only trading xenos for a daemon. Coryphaus blinked, before a sound that could only be a laugh emerged from his vox. “Oh, I like you – I loathe you as much as my brothers, but I like you.” He knelt down, humans scrambling away as he came eye to eye with the still defiant woman. His hands lifted, undoing clasps around his neck and lifting his helm off. Black, tangled hair fell down around a scarred and pallid visage. Eyes so deep and black reflected the fitful lighting of the area and mirrored the deep darkness of the Void stared into the woman. He was both beautiful and terrible, and the moans that rose from the crowd were combinations of fear and awe at the fallen angel. “Now,” he said again, softly – his voice not garbled by his vox but the musical and flowing tone it truly was. “I want to know if you were in charge of this station in any way – there is a ship here that my brothers and I need to board. If you tell me, I’ll be sure you get to live in some comfort. If you refuse, I’ll give you over to Hapshan so he can have his fun with you.” A deep, growling chuckle echoed from the giant Night Lord, his tusked helm turned to stare at the mortal. She maintained her defiance for a few seconds more, before she visibly deflated, head bowing. “I… I was a mechanic for the station, yes,” she murmured softly. Coryphaus could have cursed – a simple mechanic? The woman continued on, despite seeming a dead end. “I know every ship in every docking bay on the station… my Lord.” Coryphaus smiled – it was an unpleasant expression on an otherwise pleasant face. He rose, extending his hand for her to aid herself in rising. “Then lead on to the bay holding a Mechanicus vessel,” he whispered with a simple gesture – the mechanic nodding her head and walking away with Coryphaus following immediately behind. The rest of the Night Lords fell in behind – marching in staggered form. ++You’re truly offering her to live in comfort? There’s hardly anything comfortable about living on the Redeemer.++ Telemachus hissed the words to Coryphaus as they walked, moving to stand just behind his brother. The woman glanced over her shoulder at the odd language. Coryphaus just smiled, ++Telemachus – it is possible to live in comfort on our ship. Especially for a mechanic. Isoran would love any extra help he can get, considering Hapshan butchered his last servitor before we left for the station.++ Telemachus just shook his head, ++I truly hope after you die, your successor will be nothing like you. I might end up burning your geneseed otherwise.++ Coryphaus laughed at that, startling the mortal leading them once more. It wasn’t long until she stopped outside two open bay doors – within was a good-sized transport vessel. “Here you are my… my Lords…” she mumbled, stepping aside and bowing her head. Coryphaus nodded, turning to her. (( Choices: A) Send her back to the other captured mortals and Hapshan. B) Bring her with them onto the Mechanicus vessel. C) Have her stay here and hope she causes no trouble. Voting closes June 6th at 1 PM EST! ))
B.I would like to find out some info about the Mechanicum ship and she looks like a person to know those things.
“You first, mortal,” he said softly, the smile on his face coming nowhere close to his eyes. The woman paled, glancing nervously between Coryphaus and the ship. “Well? What are you waiting for?” he asked gently, the complete front of innocence. “I… I just thought I’d get in the way of your… your mission, my Lord,” she said in a tiny voice, trembling with nervousness and fear. Coryphaus chuckled, laying a gentle but firm hand on her shoulder to guide her forward. “I completely understand – but I’d have to be a complete fool to leave you next to our only path of escape and the controls to open the hangar to the Void,” with his guiding hand the woman stumbled forward and Coryphaus followed – two of his brothers remained back at the door to keep it secure as Telemachus and their remaining four brothers marched toward the slowly growing form of the Mechanicus ship. The ramp was up, immediately the Night Lords went on alert. Coryphaus retrieved his helm from where he had clipped it to his thigh, sealing it over his long hair and pale face. “Brother Nemmox,” Telemachus’ voice was crackling and oddly layered with static, “Open this ramp for us – controlled detonation.” Telemachus, Coryphaus, and the other three Night Lords retreated as Brother Nemmox stepped forward. The Night Lord retrieved two krak grenades placing each on either side of the ramp before retreating a safe distance. Five seconds after he had hunkered down the grenades exploded – the hatch clattering to ground with a metallic rattle. Silence dominated after that, Nemmox poked his head out only to immediately duck back down as bullets shredded the air where he had been. “Target Acquired: Beginning Hostile Defense Protocol Sigma-1-8-9-8-7-X,” the machine drone of the voice echoed in the hangar – followed by the sound of treads on the metal decking of the bay. A glance showed the echo was not only from the acoustics – seven other servitors trundled down the ramp, forming a line between the ship and the hidden Night Lords. “Coryphaus, can you employ your sorcery here?” Telemachus voxed, holding his bolt pistol tightly, not turning his head from the eight bio-engineered and mechanically altered creatures that lurked just beyond their flimsy cover. It was a small miracle that the things were too unintelligent to work out where their targets were hiding. “No, I don’t want to risk drawing on them anymore today. The amount of blood that’s saturated this place alongside my sorcery might call up something I’d rather leave in the Warp. We’re going to have to rely on grenades and -.” “This is Enginseer Melissa Tarn of the Adeptus Mechanicus, end Hostile Defense Protocol Sigma-1-8-9-8-7-X. Begin Hibernation Protocol Gamma 22-9-J,” the mortal had risen up – and her voice carried through the hangar. The guns of the servitors froze as they tracked to lock on her. There were a tense few moments before in synchronized union the eight servitors slumped forward – lights dimming to an imperceptible glow. Melissa turned, finding multiple guns trained on her – and she swallowed hard. Over the vox, Coryphaus’ laughter was rivaling Telemachus’ snarled epitaph of hatred for mortals. After Coryphaus and Telemachus had recovered, the Night Lords moved to ring the servitors – giving the machine-creatures a wide berth as they looked on uneasily. Coryphaus had once again removed his helmet, looking down at the small mortal who had made what could have been a messy situation much easier. A smirk was still on his face as he studied her, “You could have killed all of us, you know. Cut us down and we never would have got to the ship.” Melissa met his gaze, the meek mechanic gone. She carried herself like a priest of Mars – if she had had the proper implants she could have even been looking down on Coryphaus. As it was she was still forced to look up into the pale visage and black-eyed gaze. “Then that brute you left to watch over those people would have killed them all. I didn’t do it to spare your lives, I did it for them,” her voice wavered with a mixture of impotent rage and compassion. Coryphaus nodded his head, “I guess we’re just lucky you’re still mortal enough to have such feelings. Now, you first – I want any defenses shut down immediately on our way to the storage bay of the ship.” Melissa pursed her lips, but nodded her head nonetheless and marched up the ramp into the ship. Her voice ringing out in a combination of Low Gothic and Binaric. Coryphaus was next followed by Telemachus – Nemmox and the other three remaining to watch over the slumbering servitors – ready to fire at a moment’s notice. The walk to the storage bay did not take long – wisps of frozen air rolling around the three as the doors opened. “Here we are, the storage bay… I take it you’re going to destroy everything in here?” she asked bitterly – glaring at her captors. Telemachus ignored her, the Night Lords Captain following the example of Coryphaus and removing his helmet. A long silver top knot spilled out and down as he walked forward. Melissa stared at the ruin of the captain’s face – the top knot the only hair left compared to the angry red of seared skin and the blackened metal plating that made up most of his features. Only the slit of his fang-filled mouth and the black eyes remained whole as he marched into the cold storage. Coryphaus watched Telemachus go, before looking to Melissa. “In a manner of speaking, you could say that… but, little mortal, here you see the saving grace of our little group…” Inside, Telemachus ran ceramite fingers over rack upon rack of geneseed. Each marked with a faded number and the name of a chapter. “Which ones do we take, Coryphaus?” Telemachus’ voice was still a hissing whisper, shredded vocal chords forcing the words to come out in such a low sound. (( Choices: So, for this one, instead of giving 'A), B)' etc. I'll be doing it differently. These are the parent chapter gene seed being transported on the ship: Ultramarines, Raven Guard, Dark Angels, Iron Hands, Imperial Fists, Blood Angels Give me a combination of three for a vote. I'll give you all some time to think so voting will close June 12th at 1 PM EST! ))
Raven Guard (because they also like the sneaky sneaky stuff ) Ultramarines (because bloody smurfs (they also might be more disciplined and patient to do the stealth stuff, but mostly because lets contaminate the bloody smurfs :3 )) Iron Hands (?) (i almost chose Blood Angels, but they might go batshit insane and go rage, which would ruin the stealth stuff that the Night Lords are all about)
