Suddenly, a loud bang could be heard as the bolt shell hit solid ceramite. Another Astartes suddenly stood between the commander and Krax. The warrior had turned his armour's shoulder guard into the shot and thereby saved the commanders life. The new arrival wore blue power armour with many heads, in the shape of the Hydra, painted on it. His clean shaven head was also full of Hydra tattoes. A long and intricatrely designed camo cloak covered parts of the warriors armour and this also explained while nobody had seen the newcomer, in fact the mysterious saviour had been hiding in a dark corner of the bridge all along.

In his left Hand, the warrior held a highly customized blue bolter and the guns muzzle aimed directly for Krax's head, the gun set to rapid fire, ready to rip open the skull within miliseconds . Four long deadly claws extended from the right hand, and they too were aimed for Krax's throat. The outer tips of the claws also seemed to be covered with a deadly looking green liquid, which even for someone with no knowledge of such arts, could easily be recognized as poison.

The air was filled with tension as the new arrival spoke with a deadly tone to his voice and it was for everyone to see that the warrior would kill Kraxs if he didn't back down immediately. "Move back five and lower your weapons steps, or die now. This is my first and final warning to you. Chose your next actions with exceptional care!"

~~ Bridge (@Colapse ; @Vulpas ; @DeathKorpsOfKrieg ; @DeranVendar ; @Nurianis ) ~~

"I was almost certain that this time you would let me die." The Commander laughed and then walked up to Krax and put a hand on his shoulder, as well as one on the shoulder of the Alpha Legionnaire, showing them both to restrain from further blood spree.

"I respect your intelligence and talent in combat, Krax. To pull the pistol was smarter than swing the blade. Though I also needed to know if you have the ... Guts, to strike a foe who hurts your pride. I am certain you won't accept my apology for such brute test. But I am truly surprised it took you that long to snap. As Khornate that is... Remarkable." Zadkiel smiled and gave his 'bodyguard' a definite nod that he can stay put now. "But do not take this as if I cannot fight myself. I just do not like to make a mess out of my bridge, a reason why I installed the Gladiator Arena."

Once the newcomer would be pacified he turned to his bodyguard. "I wonder what I have to do so you finally betray me, my conspirator." He couldn't resist chuckling.

- Yriel-Alexandra Telepathic-
As Alexandra heard the voice in her head she gripped her helm. "Understood" She though now knowing there was another in her head. The voice interested heard Another powerful psyker in the ship was obvious she decided it would be of best interests to comply. She took her staff and wen't into the bridge she stoold behind Seth as patchs walked behind her. she began to relax her mind but kept her staff closely at hand and could see now besides the khornate there was two other astarte in the room. She kept herself ready for the khornate in case he decided to attack.

Slowly, he lowered his bolter and the Tension began to dissipate. The Alpha Legionaire grinned and replied to the commanders remark: "Well as conspiracies go, it wouldn't be a good one if you expected me to betray you, wouldn't you say. Well, you were never in any danger."
He turned his gaze towards the Khornate Astartes and spoke dismissvily:" You should better observe your surrounding before you try somehing like that aggain. If you try it aggain, remember that I will be waiting in the shadows.

"Meager theatrics, I should've known," Krax replied to Zadkiel before turning his gaze on the newcomer. "And you will do what, once again serve as my target practice?" the man spat, "Sons of Alpharius, cowards like usual, not worthy of anything other than spite," it was well known fact that Krax's parent legion and the newcomer's shared a certain animosity since their style of warfare was quite different. Being a Black Legionnaire didn't make Krax forget his past life, so he shrugged off Zadkiel's touch and holstered his pistol, while the blade was of course, still in his hand.

"So do you have some other uninvited guests or shall you finally tell us what's this all about?"

~~ Bridge ~~

"I fear not everyone is here as of yet. The Master of the Librarium and the Master of the Forge most notably of my crew. Also I wonder where my Captain wandered off to... She likes to chase Mutants." Zadkiel shrugged, as if he didn't even really care. After all, he did not truly as long as the countdown for the briefing has not hit the big '0' yet.

Not without pride at being questioned about her own second favourite feature, she stretched out her wings as much as the corridor allowed her, manipulating muscles that seemed to only become visible when she did. Like powerful machinery, or shifting serpents, they moved below her skin to affect the large feathery appendages.
"Three weeks of intense pain after slaying one of the wayward children of Slaanesh. The fleeing prey, as I like to call them." She flashed her ivories with a sense of predatory longing; though a scholar, at the moment, she felt like a hunting dog starving to feel the rush of the hunt once more.

It was a xenos warrior of some description; he had been tall and simultaneously inhumanly attractive and horrifyingly inhuman. In a time before the fall. Echidna could still invoke a faint echo of the sensations she experienced back then: the sting of frozen air, the burning heat of tainted blood escaping from her veins as more cuts were added by a keen blade wielded by a keen mind, the pulsating warmth and energy emanating from Climactic Thrust, that old and trusty companion blade; it all was there, somehow, only removed one and a half step from her current conscience.
A dance of death, but set to two different songs entirely. The shrieking chorus of Slaanesh in its glorious dissonance fought against the ordered, beautiful but no less passionate hymn of the culture that once ruled stars, and still shone bright in the face of the contemporary darkness.
Even with her preternatural, divine gift of speed, and unholy vigour granted by a life of dedicated service to Slaanesh, Echidna was locked in a fight that could, at best, be called even. For every note in her own symphony, for every rising sound and sustain, the harmonious refrain of the Eldar held fast against her. He was drowining her out slowly, and as the purple blur twisted and parried, having to use all eight of her limbs at the time to fend him off, she became more and more aware that he had the upper hand.
And yet, the fight was dragging on. The Black Blood of Echidna closed the oldest wounds; as he came to tire, her amount of injuries became static. It did not help, however, that the warpsmith's energy ran low as well - she was a lover and builder, not a fighter.
"You... fight well!", she remembered complimenting him, in an attempt to give herself an opening, but before he answered, he severed one of her bladed mechadendrites. The jolt of pain running through her was dulled, but powerful, and she thanked Slaanesh for what was basically a refreshment to her at that point. Flinching backwards, she parried a thrust, and as she straightened herself, sparks and black, viscous fluids running from her cut appendage, the Eldar with his ornate armour and moral high ground stared at her through his bloodstained war mask.
"Fight in silence, mon-keigh. You only waste what is left of the hideous breath animating your broken shell."
She chuckled, maybe because of the pain, maybe because of arrogance, or genuine amusment, and lifted her blade again in a challenging gesture. "What animates me is naught but black vigour-

Torn from her reverie by Minotaur running into her as she had stopped walking, the warpsmith coughed in surprise, seeing that the sorceress had already made some progress before her. "At any rate, they are a gift, and one that I was allowed to keep. And as to your question why they are white..."
Echidna simply made a sweeping gesture along her body.

“And how many people are you expecting Commander? Surely the four of us and that little cultist could succeed with most stealth missions?” Grythan gestured to the: Alpha Legionnaire, Krak, Argyle and himself while speaking.

“Or perhaps you are thinking of a mission with a little bit more, ambition?” His tone was respectful and clipped rather than his usual arrogance. His posture kept its usual swagger though.

@Jorimel
Redeger flinched at the sudden voice next to him, but quickly realized that it was just because he had been a bit to concentrated on his charge and besides, this astartes didn't seem to want to murder him for being an afront to Khorne. "Greetings, simply call me Redeger, the full name is much to long. As you may have noticed, my specialty is telepathy",He gestured to the eldar still locked in dance.

"A marine who doesn't just wish to have somone to sneer at, how very different." That he said much quieter though, no need for anyone else to hear.

@Vulpas
"Well I-" he was about to give a modest answer, but then realized that he was talking to a 2 meter tall, multi-tn killing machine, making himself more puny wouldn't really make his situation any better. "I tired him out, little blighter thought that he could use a few tricks, but they were just my traps. The dancing is just an old memory." Honestly he was somewhat surprised himself how well it was working, when he tried it on humans it never did last long. Perhaps the xenos just had a better memory?

The Night Lord nodded in response, taking in the Bridge with its assortment of warriors and others. Threat assessment. Scanning for possible immediate hostiles and longer term problems.

"The Lord of the Night had his own methods and we are his children," Satharn murmured in response. "Anyway, no need to go sticking a knife in anyone with such a gift for no reason, yes? Be foolish to go scattering you all over the deck plates on a whim." He placed an armoured hand lightly on the Astropath's shoulder for a moment, glancing around the Bridge once more as he did so. It was a casual look. The purpose of it was clear to anyone.

Aware of the weight of the massive paw of even the daintiest of Astartes he took back his hand. Returning his gaze to the Legionary of the Hydra. A low, nearly subsonic rumbling sound echoed around the packing crates and consoles. Satharn could appreciate the methods of the Sons of Alpharius. Clandestine. He gave the Alphan a little twitch of his helm to go with the laugh to show that he was welcome. Of course, so near, yet so far.