<Cha'ka> The Kroot came bounding back towards the group, and when he reaches them, he hisses at them in such a way that it does not travel beyond their small group. "Keep quiet you fools! Yes it smells like rotting flesh, and I suggest if you do not wish to become like them, then you keep quiet, lest whatever killed them finds us! Now, the path ahead is clear. Follow me." Edit: OOC: He was off scouting the whole time you loud humans were deciding what to do.
-Squad 2- The cremite liquidized and hardened. The multi-laser sentry preparing to fire again. "ABOUT TIME SOMETHING HAPPENED!" Phoebus roared, as he slammed his combat shield into the laser's path. The shield was strong, but a thick slab of plasteel was only going to hold for so long. "I need covering fire and suppression formation...'remember you are not working with a kill-team'... draw it's fire and I can melta bomb it!" Phoebus pulls out a melta, holding off arming it till he had an opening. 'Why did I not bring a heavy weapon?' OOC: Good place to stop. Good night all!
Ezra had set up shop at a terminal based on the bridge, still clad in the black carapace of the Arbites. It had guaranteed him a spot without any fuss and enough space to listen to the communication between both teams without too much background noise. Even here aboard a ship plying the stars far from an Imperial World or a Precinct Courthouse his station demanded respect. And if not respect, fear. Admittedly, working for an Inquisitor's retinue didn't hurt either. His heavy autopistol still lay snug in it's holster across his chest and his bomber jacket laid over the back of the chair he now sat in, a cup of recaf in one hand and the other adjusting the vox-bead a bit further away from his mouth. He had thought of dressing into something a bit more comfortable for a stakeout, but had heard his old Proctor's voice lecturing him against laxity. It would also help in case he had to accompany the Inquisitor to reinforce either team. This recaf would bring some Arbitrators back in the Courthouse to tears, such an injustice. The sludge he had once drank daily as a Detective couldn't hold a candle to whoever brewed aboard this ship. Taking a sniff and simply savoring the aroma, Ezra finally and with some sadness placed it back on to the terminal. Instead he took up one of his old case folders. Being recruited by the Inquisition often meant leaving your old life behind for good, Ezra had been lucky enough to keep (steal) his old cases and those he had been working on when he had left. He still spent his free time reviewing the cases he had been in the process of pursuing, his mind tackling every angle and every clue, hypotheses and lists of new suspects appearing in his mind's eye with every line of data he reread.
-Selina- Selina simply watched the Astartes having trouble with the turret. "I can't help ya, nothing to provide covering fire!" Selina had a slight smile while still looking relaxed. "So yeah, I can't do anything against that."
- Virgile, Bridge The entrance portal doors to the bridge slid opened to the presence of Virgil. Using his force staff for support, Virgil carries into the bridge a cup of powerfully smelling tea pot and cups. The bridge crew taking little notice of him, occupied by duties or purposely ignoring him, didn't seem to mind him taking a seat at a scribe stand. Unoccupied for reasons unknown, it was conveniently located near Ezra's terminal. "Hello fellow teammate Arbiter Ezra. I don't think we have formally been introduced yet." Virgil says, then takes a sip of tea. "My name is Virgil and I am an Astropath of the Adeptus Astra Telepathica."
Ezra looked up from the case file, skimming over the third suspected murder in a string of seemingly ritualistic killings. There had been warning signs that it was more than just a single individual carrying out the attacks, the group had set off alarms just before the Arbitrator had been pulled into the business of working for the Inquisition. He wondered which poor sod had taken over the case, not doubting for a second the perpetrator (Or perpetrators) had long ago been given Imperial retribution. "A pleasure, Virgil. And Ezra will do, Ezra Blackburne if you're being formal." The man took a sip from his cup of recaf before deciding he regretted that decision, "Don't be formal." ((OoC: Off to bed!))
<Thoren Corax> <Team 2> It was a silent trip to their targeted destination. Beyond his squad commander's overview of the mission objectives, the others remained as quiet as a Scion. They knew what was about to happen, what they needed to do. Did they have second thoughts? Any questions as to the truth behind why they were doing this? Perhaps, but no one seemed to share such thoughts with anyone else. Not when boarding the Valkyrie nor during the long flight to the designated landing zone. Not a word. The artificial lighting inside the Valkyrie now radiated a crimson red, often serving as a foreboding reminder of the approaching bloodbath. At least it did for Thoren, anyway. One got used to it, made comparisons to the reality that one was likely about to be dropped straight into the middle of a warzone. Even with such grim feelings towards the ship, the loud engines of their transport acted like soothing war drums beating proudly in defiance to those who would dare challenge its dominance of the skies. In truth, the Valkyrie was the closest thing a Scion could get to a home, given the amount of time the Scions spend inside of them. Something about them made him feel secure, as much as the weapon in his hands did. After what felt like eternity had passed, the Valkyrie began to slow in speed. The pilot could be heard over the intercoms just as the lights changed from blood red to emerald green. "Entering the drop zone. Prep for landing and exit. ETA 60 seconds." The words were hard to make out over the slight static of the intercoms as a result of the majority of the transport's power shifting over to the Valkyrie's landing gear. His armored gauntlets gripped firmly onto his safety harness as the ship shook about mildly with the sounds of metal clanged against each other. After a few moments of destabilization, the transport came to a halt and the Valkyrie's doors unlocked and auto-opened fully so that the passengers inside could quickly depart. "Mission is a go! Get out of my ship and get those boots on the ground, gentlemen! Emperor Protects!" Hastily unstrapping himself free of his security harness, Thoren made to swiftly follow his team lead out the door with his rifle firmly gripped in both hands at the ready. As soon as his boots clashed with the metallic floor outside of the Valkyrie, he instinctively began the process of sweeping the area of signs of traps or enemy tangos. Every corner, every possible hiding spot that could house a hostile combatant was checked and double checked within the course of ten minutes. No notable threats were detected beyond the unknown heat signatures coming from the unidentified craft that was not of imperial design. No imperial insignia, no markings. It was a blank, an unknown that needed to be addressed. Pressing his left hand onto his helmet's vox-communicator located near this left ear, the Scion reported in. "Hanger clear, excluding the threat the unidentified craft poses. Orders?" It wasn't long before a response was made. Setting himself up in a position next to a few scattered crates near the unknown spacecraft as to serve as protective cover, Thoren took aim and surveyed the hanger layout as to ensure that no additional threats emerged from beyond his position. Seconds alter and to the unified surprise of all, a sentry turret ascended directly in front of the Marine as he approached the craft. Blasting away at his power armor with a barrage of las fire but not fully penetrating its thick protection, the Marine fell back while barking orders for covering fire. Switching his Hellgun's firing settings to high powered rounds for maximum penetration against armored targets, the Scion knelled down behind a large Imperial equipment crate and aimed carefully at the sentry before opening fire. Shot after shot was fired in rapid succession, impacting hard against the sentry's armor plating. He was doing his part, that much was certain. The question now shifted to rather or not his attempt at damaging and/or distracting it would be enough. (OOC: Sorry for the long post, but I felt I needed to make up for lost time. Hope it turned out ok.)
SA582, upon arrival had started patrolling the area for any threats, save that of the other spaceship hanger, not saying anything, or caring for anything that got in it's way, such as two crates that were kicked aside for being in it's way. But once the door on the other was opened and the Multi-Laser turret fired on the marine, it ran over to the now opened door and shoved the marine out of the line of fire, to bring it's Multi-Melta to bare onto the turret, with no care for any collateral damage, and soon the sound of a Multi-Melta firing was in the air, and the beam of light typical to the Multi-Melta model it was using. 'Why, oh why did you do that!? Surely you would be know better than to stay in front of a door, in hostile territory!'
-Selina- Selina slowly walked over to them, her Eviscerator ready, the motor on it still cool, as it had not yet been turned on. She was hoping she would soon enough get someone to feel her Eviscerator cutting them up. For the Emperor, of course.
