The Secutor watched him intently from the distance, his bionic lenses apparently pulsing as he watches the man in the distance moving. At the same time, the Commissar seemed to receive a message and then looked at the suspect, glancing at the Secutor and gave him a nod. The Commissar now glared intently at the unknown subject, while the Secutor returned to regular observing, the Servo-Skull floating back to his owner. "Sooooo from what may you be hiding and running, little one?" The Commissar inquired curiously. "Same guys as this Psyker.... Thing?" Eisenhaut asked. As the individual walked into the ship he could easily see the busy hallways of the will-lit ship. Perhaps it was a farce? No... The Astropath could sense the souls of Thousands and Thousands of men on-board. This was a battleship, and it was fully operable. Souls with all sort of different persona had been accumulated here... All sort of desires, emotions, beliefs. It was almost overwhelming as the souls seemed to pressure upon his mind. A laughter echoing in the far distance and suddenly. All whispers stopped and only one remained. Loud, booming, demanding. "I see an Astropath joined our ranks. You have fled from those that wanted you dead due to blind hatred. Why don't you come to the Bridge and we shall meet face to face? This will be your test of worthiness, you will soon know what I mean." The voice distanced himself, with a slowly disappearing laughter, retreating into the distance. Immediately he knew it had been the owner of this ship. But at the same time he could sense that he was no Psyker... Almost as if he lured passively the Telepathic mind of the newcomer to connect to him directly.
The brief chuckle echoed through the vox speaker in Grythan's helmet making it sound like several people laughing at once. “I'm not running from anything, I just had that psyker catch my eye, but this oddity” gesturing to the ship and its crowd gathering around the outside. “is something else entirely. No I'm here to solve your recruitment problem. Besides with your current crop you have a sharpshooter and a Khornite diplomat, you need a real fighter and now I have arrived.” The leering grin of Grythan's helm almost appeared to widen by its own accord.
"A cocky Raptor. Emeperor's Child on top of that.... Well better than working with that crazy Bile altogether." The Commissar shrugged. "Just don't do anything stupid. If you need to kill someone, go into the fighting pits, we got a whole bunch of fresh blood from the last campaign that may get freedom if they win. If you want to deny them that.... Go ahead, go on a killing spree... Just don't kill anyone of our crew or else we put an end to you. Alright?" He offered him a data-slate with the way to the arena already displayed on it.
Without paying any attention to the other Astartes by the commissar Grythan headed onto the ship at first flicking through the data-slate, memorising the locations vital to him and any vital information then heading off at random to look round the ship.
As he walked through the halls it became evident why each was given a data-slate, it became a maze. But since this Astartes had the slate, he knew that he was right between the armory and quarter deck, which explains the busy traffic. Humans and Mutants alike marched through the hallways. Those in groups of four easily discernible now were most likely security patrols. They marched in soldier fashion, each and everyone of them with Hellguns showing that this was no ordinary warband... Not with this level of equipment. Some rooms had been emptied and brought to a cargo elevator... Were rooms already readied for the newcomers? He could keep on browsing around, perhaps approach one of the many crewmembers to see what this business was about? He could also inquire information about the warband and it's commander.
Somewhere, between a group of rabid cultists and tough-looking pirates, at the outward edge of this hive of treason and piracy, a single person stood out like a sore thumb. Accompanied by a giant man shrouded in a cloak, this woman walked and weaved through the surprisingly cramped hallways and annoyingly crowded halls proper. She was aware of the attention she drew, did hear the cat calls and did feel the brazen few hands on her. Despite her disgust, Echidna did not do anything to prevent it, however. And oh, did she want to. How she wanted to utterly slay those miserable, unwashed, bearded, greasy cretins that dared sully her even on a molecular level with their unclean breath settling on her unblemished, perfect skin. Ever since her fall, rage had been a permanent companion of hers, keeping her mind shrouded in a permanent red haze (as opposed to the other, formerly permanent haze she actually did enjoy). Of course, the few mutations she had were enough to lessen her subtlety by an unfathomable factor. Truth be told, the heretek had no set goal, simply looking for something to do to ensure her continued survival. Fixing a machine maybe. Getting information. Summoning a sleeping Daemon creature and binding it to a machine. The echo of forsaken skills stung. To this servant of Slaanesh, pride was even more important than physical health. Eventually, her light steps stopped dead as the sound of gunshots rang through the hall. Usually, Echidna wouldn't have stopped at all - This was the Eye of Chaos, and gunshots were completely commonplace here - if it had not been for the fact that the gun fired was a bolt pistol, and decidedly not a human-sized one. Thinking of whether it would be worth the risk of investigating why an Astartes would fire a bolt pistol, she eventually decided that whoever that was, if he was an Astartes, his arms and armour would probably in horrible disrepair. Syren Echidna. Doing work worthy of a menial. Oh quiet, you sarcastic brain. She picked up speed, moving towards the source of the noise, using her enhanced senses and agility to worm a way through the busy crowd like a maggot through an apple. Not once was a glance wasted to see whether her servitor would follow, because she could tell he was by the frightened sound people made when they were pushed out of the way by a forceful enough hand, and the annoyed grunting the servitor himself seemed to make whenever anyone tried to harm him with a fist. Or the occasional ricocheting bullet. The source was... not pleasant, but decidedly exactly what she had been hoping for. The bored expression of a mad genius morphed into that of somebody who tried to come across as sympathetic, charismatic, and decidedly non-threatening. Echidna was aware that her plumage didn't really help with Astartes, and the Commissar fellow next to them did not look like somebody who'd mind if his dream women came in a seductive or friendly variety. Slowing down as she emerged from the faceless masses, she stepped closer to the group, a sly grin on her face. "So two Astartes, a Myrmidon and a heavily scarred man walk onto a ship. You look like the beginning of a bad joke", she drawled in a fake gestalt accent, "But I think I want to hear the ending nonetheless. Recruits for what exactly? Because if you might need someone to watch out for your arcane technology, I might be the one to help."
Taking all of this information in at a glance he continued walking, heading roughly in the direction of the armoury. He wondered if this warband was handing out Hellguns to the humans then what kind of weapons were being given out to those that could properly use them. His stride was purposeful and confident, he had no need to put on the pretence of disdain for the humans he KNEW he was above them. These patrols, though distractions, did not stop him from walking onwards or thinking of methods of attack, the location of the choke-points, and his strategy for attack as he strode onwards occasionally checking the data-slate for his destination.
Redeger shivered, he wasn't used to other people speaking telepathically without his consent. It seemed this job was just getting weirder and weirder. Well no use waiting, he set off at a brisk walk. On the way he extended his mind, letting his legs move on their own. Moving past the confines of walls and passages he found random minds to connect with, passively reading their thoughts. Rat bastard, oh he'll get it. He'll get it. Thinks himself the boss of the deck then, eh? Damn near smashed my face in, in front of everyone! Probably would have killed me if the enforcers hadn't arrived. Oh well, I'll go in and stab the little shit after curfew, then we'll see whose the better man! Highly interesting, ambition, revenge and murder all together. After a quick look around it seemed that he had gone down the wrong path, a few turns later and he was back on the way to the meet the owner of the ship. Once again he looked around to see what other interesting emotions and ideas swam through the sea of humanity. Thought he could beat me? Hah! Not me, Frodgir of the pits! Attacked me head on like a dumb grox, he didn't even deserve the pain I brought on him. Whip round the outside, leaves himself open to a strike, and WHAM! One hit right to the chest, lucky we were using blunt weapons, well a few broken ribs will teach him not to fight like an idiot Fights were never that interesting to him, any currency he got he generally spent on the various charms and artefacts that he wore about his person. The rest went to drink, food and well, drink. Even a cheap bottle of amasec took a few weeks savings to buy. Once again Redeger thrust out his mind to find a random subject. Dear Emperor make it stop, make the pain stop. I don't care if I die, just let me go. Oh saints and sinners not the branding iron again, PLEASE NO, NOOOOO- The pysker's mind retreated to his body so quickly that he very nearly fell flat on his face. It took a moment to clear his mind and continue walking. He shouldn't have been surprised, this was still the Eye of terror filled with more depravity and cruelty than the rest of the materium could ever imagine. It seemed that he was only one elevator away from his destination anyway according to the data-slate, so the astropath did not push his luck any further and kept his mind to himself.
The Secutor approached the woman, the first time he actually moved. The Commissar ignored her, knowing that the 'Security Officer' would take care of this lady. Though he would have loved to take care of this woman. And not just as a recruiter, but as a man. The only disgusting thing were probably those wings... Nothing a knife could fix, right? "01011001 01101111 01110101 00100000 01100001 01110010 01100101 00100000 01000101 01100011 01101000 01101001 01100100 01101110 01100001 00101110 00100000 01011001 01101111 01110101 00100000 01101000 01100001 01110110 01100101 00100000 01100110 01101111 01110101 01100111 01101000 01110100 00100000 01101111 01101110 00100000 01001100 01101111 01110010 01101001 01100001 01110011 00101110 00100000 01001001 00100000 01101000 01100001 01110110 01100101 00100000 01100001 01101110 00100000 01100101 01101110 01110100 01101001 01110010 01100101 00100000 01000100 01100001 01110100 01100001 01100010 01100001 01110011 01100101 00100000 01100101 01101110 01110100 01110010 01111001 00100000 01100001 01100010 01101111 01110101 01110100 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 00101110 00100000 01001001 01100110 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 00100000 01101000 01100001 01110110 01100101 00100000 01100001 00100000 01110100 01110010 01110101 01100101 00100000 01101001 01101110 01110100 01100101 01110010 01100101 01110011 01110100 00100000 01110100 01101111 00100000 01101010 01101111 01101001 01101110 00101100 00100000 01110100 01101000 01100101 01101110 00100000 01100110 01101111 01101100 01101100 01101111 01110111 00100000 01101101 01111001 00100000 01110011 01100101 01110010 01110110 01100001 01101110 01110100 00101110 00100000 01010011 01100101 01110010 01110110 01101111 00101101 01010011 01101011 01110101 01101100 01101100 00100000 01010101 01101110 01101001 01110100 00100000 01001011 01101001 01110010 01110011 01110100 01100101 01101110 00101110 " The Secutor spat forth in a monotone voice. And then he walked away to let her be with the decision she was faced. One of the Servo-Skulls floating into the bowel of the ship. "Put the new forge module right there!" A loud booming voice instructed. The Speaker turned on the heavy steps of the newcomer, having expected a new shipment of more factory modules. Annoyed he sighed and approached the man. He was an obvious Iron Warrior from his colors, wearing a helmet that did not bother to hide his both Bionic Eyes. It could easily be seen that the Armor became part with him, metalbonded for most efficiency. "A Raptor of the Emperor's Children. Pah. Let's hope the new batch of recruits last longer than a month... Would hate to scratch your meat off from inside your armor just to re-purpose it." The Warp Smith stands as tall as an average Marine, 8' 2" (~2.5m) tall. Three Mechadendrites coming from his back, obviously impairing his movement through the weight. But it seemed irrelevant to him, especially additional to the walking armory he was. Plasma Pistol, Inferno Pistol, Bolter, Plasma Gun, all four guns attached over his thighs and the sides of his body. "Get out of here, except you have a good reason to disturb my work." He crossed his arms and stared with his green lenses concentrated on the Raptor. He was not just serious, but he seemed as if he was going to have fun ripping the man apart. But somewhere.... In the distance.... A voice called.... "Help me...." It whispered, it was telepathic... And he could feel it from a usually powerful source but which was somehow inhibited... Furthermore, and further enticing... It was not human. Alien... Abhumane... Abnormal... Disgusting. But the intention was pure, the experienced Telepath could tell that much.
Echidna cocked her head. For a split second, her expression cracked open to reveal a mixture of shame, hate, and the desire to research the rite of immolation just so she could use it on the Secutor. It turned back to the simple cockiness of an overeager Heretek before an ordinary human would notice, however. Feeling the Noo... well, output of the Secutor, she decided to give a quick nod. Spoiler: Binary "01001001 00100000 01110111 01101001 01101100 01101100 00101100 00100000 01010011 01100101 01100011 01110101 01110100 01101111 01110010 00101110 00100000 01001101 01100001 01101011 01100101 00100000 01101001 01110100 00100000 01100001 00100000 01110000 01110010 01101001 01101111 01110010 01101001 01110100 01111001 00100000 01101110 01101111 01110100 00100000 01110100 01101111 00100000 01110011 01101000 01100001 01110010 01100101 00100000 01101101 01111001 00100000 01101000 01101001 01110011 01110100 01101111 01110010 01111001 00101110 00100000 01001001 00100000 01100001 01101101 00100000 01101110 01101111 01110100 00100000 01100001 01100100 01110110 01100101 01110010 01110011 01100101 00100000 01110100 01101111 00100000 01100100 01100101 01110011 01110100 01110010 01110101 01100011 01110100 01101001 01101111 01101110 00101110 00100000 01001111 01110010 00100000 01110010 01100101 01110000 01101100 01100001 01100011 01101001 01101110 01100111 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 01110010 00100000 01100010 01110010 01100001 01101001 01101110 00100000 01110111 01101001 01110100 01101000 00100000 01100001 01100100 01100001 01100101 01101101 01101111 01101110 00101110 " , she sent back, the last few impulses more than just a bit... distorted. "I am utterly sorry to have to excuse myself but you absolutely must tell me the punchline at a later date!", she said as a farewell to the Astartes, and, Minotaur still shadowing her, she sighed a breath of relief as she followed the little servo-skull with the odd name, glad to be out of the Khornate's range. With every step that she followed, she seemed to grow in size as her posture switched to a more regal one. Wherever she was being taken, maybe it would be better to impress rather than undersell.
