From down a alley two figures seem to appear both of them were the size of a human one walking behind the other slower seem to be carrying a bag. one of them wearing a robe and seemed to be wearing a helmet and carrying a staff. The other was a scarred Human Its skin pale and seem to have a mixture of colors and black hair of its scalp and stitch's came apart over much of it giving it a patchwork look. "Come Patch's it should be around hear a new employer for us." The robed woman in front said while. The being behind her gave a some what groan that almost sound like yes in a response. Several Step other figures seem to appear from out of the dark as a small group of 3 surrounded three of them were looked to be armed gangers no doubt trying to prove them selves for some kind of gang. "Seems we have some new parts and patience's Patchs." A voice said said as another figure came out from another ally this one was of a astarte its armor the colors of grey mixed with a ice blue and a odd helmet on him. He seemed to have a powered down power axe and a bolter on his belt His other arm a wicked looking narheicum seemed to be caked with dry blood. One of the gangers shot first. The one in front aiming at the robed figure only to have his rounds miss while another two seemed to run from the astarte and trying to escape this ambush when a crack of thunder seem crack out of the the psyker figure she held in her hand a bolt pistol firing off two shot one wounding one of the ganger's the other nailing the other in the chest. The astarte charged the ganger with the weapon his fist meeting the mans chest and holding him up in the aim like a child. "My My what a fine specimen we have here." he said holding him up a light from his back pack came on. as he looked at the ganger. "Young looked to be in your 20's possibly fine organs well we will see from that." he said as he seem to bring up his axe. From the commissar's position down the port he could see him bring the axe up to the man as he turned it on the man screamed as the apothecary began cutting as blood freshly over the apothecary armor. "not good enough though seems you seem to have a few detects with your with your lungs Oh and your organs Are quite in bad condition. hmm not good enough though Maybe next time my young friend." he said with a sigh as he brought one of his mans He pressed into the mans chest stopping something then crushing it. he dropped the man down face down. "Hmm you two can leave your organs are likely in worse state then your friends." he said as he walked pass as the one living ganger began crawling away. "Ahh Alexandra I hope you have lead us to the right dock would be quite a waste of time if you got the wrong one." The robed figure in front looked to the giant apothecary. "I have the commmisar should be right over here." she said as she wen't now coming in range for the commisar to talk to. "Me and my associate here here that you are recruiting for a warband Still spots left?" a voice from behind the helmet asked the commsiar. The one robed figure asked.
Echidna instinctually pulled back at the sorceress' touch, feeling the faintest prick of static on her face as the fine hand connected with her skin. Being a kind of sorceress herself, to the heretek, Yriel's power was obvious, and seemed tangible even, the warp clinging to her like an auroral cloak - the sensation was much like standing between a large amount of Skitarii and reaching into their noosphere. Regardless of her surprise, and admittedly, awe at her presence, Echidna refused to bow to her herself, looking with half-lidded, theatrically desinterested eyes at her. The warpsmith's hands moved to her hips as she widened her stance. "A pleasure, Lady Yriel. I am certain you need no more introduction as you read of me, although I am sure those texts told of the Mother of Monstrous Machina and not of a lowly builder of servitors." Her lips were drawn into something of a self-loathing smirk. The Slaaneshi had never been one to hide her disappointment at her own fall - it was more that she hid the fall itself. In this case though, it seemed impossible, and so, she complied, looking around the room, trying to find anything that would tell her something about this wyrdling. "Yes, I am a warpsmith. I crafted daemonic abominations of metal... but let us just say that the Dark Prince giveth, and he taketh away. I realized it would not be a profitable venue any longer when my firstborn son tried to crush me under his claws."
"You little shit!" Redeger stumbled backwards, clutching his head. "Think you can control me? Serves me right for trusting an alien! "The pysker charged his mind for an assault, though honestly it was hardly required as the xeno's psychic defenses were already weak. On his silver crown the jewl glowed a dark purple, he stamped out the last resistance and left the eldar consciousness hissing fruitlessly at him. It was entirely different from a human mind, much... Deeper. Suddenly an idea struck him, something to show his new employer what he could do. Looking through the brain of his new victim, if you could say that as he had been attacked first, he found several memories of exactly what he wanted. A few tests and rehearsals and he was just about ready to start, he checked the data slate to see how much time he had, about a quarter hour it seemed. Last thing he did was pick up the old book that had been dropped before and slowly walked his new alien puppet out into the hallway leading to the bridge. Several enforcerers raised their hellguns as the eldar robotically steeped out. Quickly he chose the memory that had been found earlier and let the alien's muscles do their thing. First the eldar struck a dramatic pose, then lept forward, spun, pirouetted and landed once again. A beautiful dance, much like he had done when he was young. What? He had never danced, that memory... It was on a craftworld. The xeno must have passed some memorries on , damn thing. He had little sympathy for the eldar, now even less. He had no idea how many other things had snuck into his mind, they'd probably pop up during the most inconvenient point knowing his luck. But he brought himself back into the moment as the eldar was raging against the mental barriers as it's body was forced to dance and entertain it's captors. But how would this chaotic crew react to a dancing eldar?
Straightening himself up so that he would still be at eye-level of the captain despite her impromptu stool he turned to Argyle and exchanged a knowing look. Returning his gaze to the commander with a predatory grin he replied. “Only one more silly question, ma'am” A gracious, if slightly dramatic bow was used to highlight the word ma'am. “Where is the best drink hidden on this ship?”
[OOC Oh dear Khaine I only just realised this started and I already have 8 pages to ... argh catching up now]
~~ Bridge ~~ A hundred men were busy on various consoles, making sure all the systems are running fine. Here and there some vox-messaging could be seen and heard. From what the Astartes could overhear, it seemed that new weapons were just mounted and were now in calibration. The captain was absent but there was another man, with the back to the 'invader' of the bridge, who already gestured for the man with a dozen titles to approach him. From behind there was not much to say about him. He was an Astartes. Wore black armor and silver stripes. His hair, one could not tell from this position, as a back-mounted banner blocked the view. Skulls could be seen to adorn both sides of his shoulder plates rather than any sort of legion, warband or even personal allegiance to anything or anyone. "Seeking the head of the snake to slay it? Or... Just curious if the one leading you is actual on par with you?" He asked in his noble voice. It was smooth and wrapped around one's ears like silk, creating a positive sensation. No question it was a sympathetic leader, which made it somewhat frightening that he chose to adorn his armor with so many trophies in the form of skulls. Perhaps he just had a skull fetish? If Krax would decide to approach him, the man would turn around and face him. His 2.5m height was average for a marine, perhaps too average, like the rest of his statue. Athletic but not slim. Fit but not muscular. But his face told a different story. It was not as noble as his voice. It was stained with war. An ugly long blade scar from his forehead, over his left eye, down over his lip to the chin. On the other side of the face there was a bionic ear completely replacing where once his biological one was. His hair was short and in a buzzcut, the little hair that was on his head was brown-black, hard to discern under the artificial light of the bridge. The rest of the armor was pitch black like a Deathwatch marine or a Black Legion member, but the trims were in a pure silver. Beyond that, nothing truly special was there to say about his armor. The type was ancient. Mark II Crusade Pattern. ~~ Landing Stage ~~ "A trio, eh?" The Commissar of Krieg asked somewhat annoyed, readying three Slates until he saw the third was some sort of retarded mutant. "Does that.... Thing need a data-slate too or is it inept of reading?" He pointed at 'Patch' with his Bolt Pistol. ~~ Librarium ~~ "Yes.... Slaanesh can be an angel and a devil, can't.... It? Alas, I believe you fell not into the plot of the Prince of Lust, but into a scheme of Tzeentch. You see... If you would be as mighty as back then, how would you have joined us? You will find new ways to please your god... Or goddess. Do not worry about that. Your concern should rather lie in that you are only useful for the Commander as long as you do as he says... He can be quite... Impulsive at times. I tell you this, because he has a feat for those of us with... Special Talents. Wisdom. Beauty. Creativity. Yet in the end, only one thing counts. Your efficiency for his plans." She sighed, followed by a slight giggle, stroking some her out of her face. "Let me make it short. You are a creator of Daemon Engines. And we will be in need of that talent. If you want to benefit this warband and everyone else, including yourself. You should start working on one. You will soon be back to the famed lady who created entire legions of warriors, all you need is.... To devote yourself." Yriel tilted her head, putting an innocent and cute face on. It was evident that her soul was older than her appearance. Awkwardly enough, something that Tzeentch was not necessarily known for. Perhaps she got to her strength in another way than experience? ~~ Near Bridge ~~ The crew only kept their weapons primed on the Alien creature as the voice from before reached out to the Astropath. "Bring him and yourself to the Bridge." It was a straight order, which sound anything but delighted. Certainly he brought some anger upon himself. ~~ Near Gladiator Arena (@Nurianis & @DeranVendar ) ~~ "You are no better than those freaking mutants!" She pulled her rapier out which was indeed a power rapier and had it in the blink of an eyeball on his neck. "Report to the Commander immediately at the bridge or else I make you my new torture playdolls in the name of Slaanesh. UNDERSTOOD, LADIES?!" The tiny but angry woman roared. Strangers always judging her by the size. Frakking Astartes fools! Look at me how big and tall I am! My arm is as thick as a Grox! Look at me I can swing a Bolter and I live forever and never get sick! They were as much mutants as those with forsaken tentacle arms through the travels in the warp!
Argyle stepped right on around the child and her tantrum without a word, only glancing back at Grythan to shrug before carrying on as he was. "Come along then Brother, we've work to find. Best not interrupt, imagine the poor girl is overworked, a nap time might be in order. " Let her attack, give him a reason to fight, it would be lovely. Of course if nothing came of it then it was on to the Bridge.
~~ Near Gladiator Arena (@DeranVendar & @Nurianis ) ~~ "YOU WILL LEARN TO RESPECT ME, OR ELSE I ENSURE THAT YOU WILL GET CHAINED ON THE OUTSIDE OF THE HULL AS WE TRAVEL THE WARP! I AM THE CAPTAIN OF THIS SHIP AND YOU WILL RESPECT ME!" She jumped a bit up and down on the back of the human stool and swung her rapier in skillful matter in front of the faces of the Astartes, making sure they understand that she was not poking through their lenses because she was that talented and in control of her hand and weapon.
The mask of disinterest fell across Grythan's face once more. The captain had been goaded too easily for his liking and her attempt at showing her swordsmanship had only reinforced her lack control in her emotions, a weakness which would get her killed in a fight. But he said none of this. He looked down at the rapier that had been at his neck and was now swinging carelessly in front of his face with a apathetic stare. “You are quite right Brother, we have other distractions to entertain us with.” Straightening up he started to walk towards the bridge, letting the captain shout and scream in frustration. He thought to himself. Humans are so easy to goad.
Someone here knew something. Satharn Tem stalked the corridors of the ship silently, listening. Most of the chatter was worthless to him, but somewhere ... someone knew. He punched the pad of the servo-lift and rode up to the next floor. In the walls of the lift shaft, rusting cages full of half-forgotten wretches wailed and shivered in the dim light. Some still screamed. Others tried to reach out, to force their battered bodies into the path of the lift, but the grilles to their prisons had been artfully placed to prevent such quick release. The Night Lord snorted. It was vile, yes, it was hateful, but it wasn't terror. He reached the final floor and stepped out, armour joints whirring dully. The deck was crowded here, the streaming mass of Humanity apparently just emptying out of an arena after the show had ended. In the way. Blocking him. Tem was short on patience. "Coming through," he bellowed, starting to shoulder-barge random people out of the way. He'd have thought they would shift at the sight of a bloody Astartes. He broke into a jog, a dry grin splitting his face under the helmet. Some of the more sensible ones got a move on. "Night Lord. I AM coming through." Those that didn't get smart got under foot and getting under a Marine's feet was not a career move. He absently kicked a bit of debris off one boot and made his way to where his informant had claimed there was a man who knew something. Useful. And he wasn't lying. Satharn was reasonably certain, because few men keep more secrets than they have remaining skin. What was this? A Commissar with more scars than Lucius and an actual sign announcing New Recruits? The Night Lord checked his mental recollection. No, this was the man, and if he was right, he knew where he might find news of the Dark Epiphany. "Commissar," he said, with soft and subtle emphasis, moving forward with deceptive grace for so tall and armour-clad a man. "You seek men. I seek information. I will trade my - service, for what you know." He paused. "If it's worth knowing." He grinned, though the expression was lost in the depths of his helm. Satharn drew himself up and offered a stiffly formal salute, as if he were on a parade ground long ago. "Night Lords, 5th Company. Legionary Satharn Tem reporting for duty against the False Emperor, Sir."
