<Amriel> "It's about time, they've been up half the night; they couldn't have gotten here faster?" The Corsair was not in the best of moods, having woken up in the middle of the night to relieve himself, in his half-asleepness he had forgotten he only had one arm, and fell into a ditch when he attempted to brace himself on a branch.
<Desek> An unseen force gripped Trykasil's hand, as if another had forced it's way around his and was using an unnaturally powerful finger of it's own to nudge his grip off on the weapon, Desek imposing his own trained psychic will on the weapon to prevent the man from giving it the go ahead to fire. "Whatever you're planning on doing you're not getting to. Drop the weapon and turn around. " Witch Blade in his free hand the Warlock made it quite clear he wouldn't be playing games.
<Farseer Aranethyr> The Seer had levitated his spear into his hand and used it to stand besides Desek, letting it show that what th Warlock did was supported by his acceptance.
<Trykasil & Rharijem> The man growled and pressed against the force, demanding his weapon to shoot upon the Warlock now. "THEY KILLED MY TWIN-SISTER AND I SHALL LET THEM FEEL MY WRATH! IN THE NAME OF KHAINE! IN THE NAME OF HER! IN MY NAME!" Trykasil roared in complete anger. Rharijem just could watch as his body was still on survival instincts, not to forget the shock realization of how much he was like him. "Trykasil... You are wrong... Wrath is no solution to anything. It's the first step on losing yourself..." His voice was a mere whisper as fear still dominated his mind.
<Architect> The Dire Avenger - with his helmet strapped to his belt, extended a hand that - even through the gauntlet - was too feminine for a man. He or she smiled to the corsair, "I know what you have in mind... Do not give in to despair, brother. Your state is only temporary." Minnaloushe, on the other hand, opened the back ramp of her transport and turned it gracefully to face the warriors' encampment. "Rise and shine, Aspects!"
<Desek> "It is a path to being consumed Brother. Would you kill all Commorites for the sin of one? " The Warlock swayed a bit where he stood, eyes locked on the others. In truth his own feelings hadn't been so different too long ago, at least partially influenced by the ravenous will of She Who Thirst he almost lost himself as this one was threatened to now. Closing his open palm into a fist there was a sharp tug on the pistol to try and rip it from the man's hands, like a parent tugging a toy from an indignant child.
<Trykasil> "THAT IS WHAT I AM ABOUT TO DO! IT WILL BE MY PLEASURE TO DESTROY THEM ALL IN THE NAME OF MY SISTER!" Trykasil roared, attempting to sprint toward Desek and jump-slam him into the face. <Rharijem> The man attempted to jump after him with the little body he had left but failed miserable, with only his finger tips touching the back of Trykasils armor before hitting the ground and only capable to watch the events unfold.
<Desek> In a flash the shuriken pistol that had been tugged from his hand was returned to him, by means of forcefully slamming into his face to momentarily blind him as the Warlock side stepped away and went to drop down and plant a knee into his back after he collided with the floor, hands going to restrain his own limbs while his Witch Blade was left to clatter on the floor. "Is this how your sister would wish for you to go? Being cut down by your own comrades because you decided to try and go on a rampage on their ship to get back at a mere handful of Commorites? Surely there are better uses for you, better ways to honor her memory."
Liriasol awakened with the rapid response of one used to sleeping in situations like these. He glanced around, taking in the situation: the rest of the planetside team was on its way. The Ranger noted with approval that the fire had been doused with earth. He gathered up the remains of the herbivore (so tasty, free range is always more toothsome) and checked for any signs of - well, there was nothing else to search for, really. It seemed that their time as woodland dwellers was over. Liriasol had to admit, he'd enjoyed it while it lasted. For a moment they had seemed almost like a tiny tribe, living in primitive ways as in times long gone by. A slight sigh escaped him, little more than a heavy breath. There would have been problems with that, of course; only one lady with the Forest Tribe, and hardly enough to make up a full watch. Also, the Wave Serpent Tribe would have had a much better name. He re-packed his gear and waited, ready for collection.
Kara'shanwe awoke rested, and feeling refreshed. The strangely cocooning effect of the nest of leaves and branches appeared to have pleased the Spider Within, as well as allowing her to sleep tight. Taking up her share of the breakfast and a sip or two of water from the clever little leaf-cup the Ranger had made, she looked around the camp for a last time. Something - she shook her head; perhaps she wasn't as awake as she had thought. Visethianne had awoken them in a pleasingly artistic manner, his deep voice sounding out over the sleepers as the Wave Serpent wove between the trees. But he reached to assist the Reaper with very delicate grace. There was something slight, almost feminine about his hands. A moment more, and Minnaloushe, the cheerful pilot, was ushering them back to the welcome sight of the Wave Serpent and its sheltering hull. The Warp Spider shrugged. What did it matter if the Warrior also had the hands of the Artist? Khaine cared not who held a sword in his name. Taking a seat opposite the Ranger, after relaying her thanks for the timely pick-up, she said, "Thank you for your guidance out there. We slept safely and warmly, thanks to your skills."
