<Feron> At one point the Salamander was at last able to break free of his comrade and make his way about the ship on his own, having given the Chaplain a bit of distance whilst he was dealing with myriad guest and recruits. Sociable group activity was never something he really grasped in all his years beyond playing the quiet one, one on one or smaller more intimate encounters always suited him and his way of thinking much better. Even then hearing the braying of the Blood Claw almost tempted him into dropping by to say hello at least, a laugh with a Son of Fenris was something he had learned to enjoy during his seconding to the Death Watch. For now though he opted to wander along and inspect the Forge as Draconion had suggested, rather curious to see if he would have the honors of working with ancient tech or if it would of been something newer, something installed to meet current standards if it had lacked one to begin with or the previous was somehow not as or more advanced.
"As I remember correctly, I said no disturbances," the Chaplain looked at the Stormtrooper Sergeant from earlier who stood there as if on guard. The man began sweating for he knew what meant failing to do as his Lord commanded. Making an apologetic bow, he and the rest of his men took position behind the group, ready to die if needed be. Flesh Tearer's storm-grey eyes turned away from his soldiers and towards the newcomer. One would expect a man to feel some sort of an unease when dealing with members of this particular Ordo, but the only thing showing was his steel resolve. "Lord Manner Aspin, I welcome you aboard "Angelfall". I take it you had pleasant journey?"
"It was terrible, but we both know I did not come here for just the trip..." He still had his hand out to the Space wolf only turning his head to show his face to the man speaking. "I don't believe we have properly met yet, you know my name, but what of yours?"
Once he made way deeper into the ship, closer to the Forge and the Machine Core, the Salamander could see more and more traces of exceptional craftsmanship. Beginning with mere bulkheads and ending with advance logic engines, it looked as if the ship indeed hid more than it was willing to share at the first glance. An army of servitors went back and forth, working tirelessly to keep everything in pristine condition. Eventually, he reached the Forge itself. The entire room where it was saturated was something that was rarely seen outside worlds governed by Mechanicus. High furnaces surrounded the machines in the middle where various tech adepts worked on producing ammo for the ship and its crew. The technology used for it was of some arcane form and most of the workers simply followed procedures, not trying to interfere with the process itself. However, what was painfully clear from the start was that there was in fact, no Techmarine around. Couple of higher ranking members of the Marsian cult was all that made this place going. That, and the autonomy of the working process. It also meant Salamander saw no smiths around where they should be, only a mindless army of robots going about their job. "I am the one who summoned you here," he responded and offered a hand in greeting. It was quite unusual for a Space Marine (of his kind, or at least that were the rumors) to do such a thing, but during his service here the man obviously learned a trick or two about diplomacy. Especially when it would be equally rude to deny him such honor. "I am Chaplain Marmaroth of the Ordo Xenos, formerly of the Flesh Tearers Chapter. I've heard many things about you, Lord Aspin and I can see right now, most of them are true."
Jean had taken the time to explore a bit. Couldn't hurt to have a mental map of the area she figured. She crossed several different rooms, not sure what each was for, and so she'd consult the datapad to determine their exact purpose before moving on to the next. It may have seemed monotonous but to some degree she enjoyed it. She met a few new faces on the way, perhaps no one of note, perhaps they were. One never could tell who really would become important and who wouldn't. Not that it mattered to her. As far as she was concerned they were all people. She finally came to the forge, of which she promptly entered, curious what lied within. She entered to find quite an impressive area. She decided to continue looking around. Within she did find an Astartes, perhaps another that had been recruited? The thought of working alongside the Astartes wasn't entirely new, but it always gave her a feeling of adventure. After all, were the Astartes went, something else was bound to follow, or they'd find something, whichever came first. She decided to approach him, figuring it couldn't hurt. The worst that could happen, he shrugged her off as she had no desire to take more of his time than he was willing to share. "Salutations Astartes." She stated with a slight wave as she approached.
"Aye, right you were the one to 'summon' me. He took his straight cane and smacked it hard on the floor, it stood still, unattended, completely unmoving. He offered his hand to the Space Marine, Manner's hand being almost completely covered by the Astartes massive digits. "So tell me Chaplain Marmaroth, or could I call you Marmaroth?." Manner continued without the Chaplin's answer. "You have quite the Retinue here. We must be doing the Emperors great work if such a force has gathered here? and you said 'formerly of the Flesh Tearers' what chapter do you know devote yourself too now?" He stared at the Astartes eyed waiting for a response, his eyes looking like two voidless pits.
<Feron> For minutes he seemed to wander in what might appear as a daze to others but was merely his own collected internal thinking at the marvel of the sight. It was certainly quite the view, nothing terribly unfamiliar to him beyond a handful of the more esoteric pieces, relics long lost to time he dare not let his gaze linger on to long for concern he would walk on by another such machine without noticing. Every worker was given a wide berth, not looking to distract or interrupt. His eyes only sought about for one thing in particular: a Forge that wasn't being attended so he might find himself a work space when the time presented itself. This hunt was maintained even as he turned to greet the Soroitas. "Salutations Sister. " Offering a polite bow of his head he stepped off to the side and beckoned her over. "Chaplain requisition your Order or here on your? "
Jean approached with a nod of her own. "I was wondering the same thing myself. Seems I've answered my own question. I am indeed here by the Chaplain's request. If he's requesting troops from such various branches, then I imagine this could be something of utmost importance. Though I must admit. It's not often I get to work alongside Astartes within the same unit." She grinned for a moment. "Oh where are my manners? Apologies my friend. I'm Jean, Battle Sister of the Argent Shroud." Though her armor likely had already indicated such, being the usual silver with red linings.
<Feron> Body going rigid he slapped a fist to his chest letting a sharp ringing sound flow through the area from the impact. "Brother Feron Terosis of the Salamanders Second Company, Third Squad currently of the Death Watch. " His smile was hard to make out amongst his features but it was there for one with a sharp eye, clearly appreciating the enthusiasm in this one. "Good to see every arm of the Imperium is in representation here, very well might bode ill for whatever we've been gathered for but at the very least it should make a fitting statement having every fragment that makes up mankind's shield in attendance. Meet many of the others yet Jean? "
