She smiled at the Marine's confidence. "We resolute few ehh?" She nodded, liking the sound of that. "It's one way to look at it." She paused pondering the last question. "Can't say I've really met any of them. Might have bumped into one or two along the way. But I can't say for sure. Can't say I was paying too much attention either, considering I was mostly exploring what I guess we could call our new home. At least for now anyway But then a saw one of the Emperor's Finest here. Hard to ignore that. Thought I'd be friendly."
<Feron> "One of? I see a great many here in their very different forms, yourself included. Different roles, same service to the Imperium. " Letting forth a warm chuckle that left the impression there should of been the glow of a furnace inside his gullet he gestured they exit the area. "Only other I've met here is the Librarian, Draconian another Brother from my Chapter. Though I've already heard one of the Ordos representatives getting into it with a Space Wolf so that should provide a bit of insight as to how things may go here. " Under the mask of the pure red coloring of his eyes Feron gave them a quick roll despite his grin. "Came down here to inspect the Forge, like much of the ship it seems to be quite the master craft, look forward to getting my hands busy within soon. "
"I see. You make a fair point." She stated with a shrug. "I guess I was referring to our little unit in particular. But I guess everyone here is technically a part of said unit." She nods at the mention of the Librarian. Psykers. They always made her uncomfortable. But she could see that they were necessary whether she liked them or not. "So there are at least two more Astartes?" She shook her head. "I've really dug myself in deep this time ehh?" She grinned. "Perhaps if I'm lucky I can fight to a quarter of your standards?"
Luckily before he had to 'devote' himself, the man of legends took care of the Inquisitor. He gave a dark look at the other Astartes before nodding to the Inquisitor and then marched off to the training pits, getting out of the whole ordeal before being dragged into something he didn't want to. The blood was still boiling, the adrenaline never lessened. A fight is what he needed!
<Feron> "Bah, fight to your own standards, not that of others, tend to be either more realistic or more fulfilling. The Emperor ask your best, not you give the best of others. " Even as he spoke his thoughts held an inward sigh, he really did deserve that 'Uncle' moniker didn't he? "But to answer your first question at least two, would be willing to bet three or four, perhaps five. I know we weren't the only ones on the vessel ferrying us over. We'll see everyone at the briefing I suppose. " Humming a moment as he came to a halt he reached a hand out to trace some of the smaller images present on an ornate bulkhead; the image depicting man riding out into the stars on an iron steed that trod a path of alien bones. "Any idea as to why you were chosen Sister Jean? "
<Jaws> the Eversor assasin Looked to the new man possibly a new and could see he was now being greeted. Jaws pushed a buttion on his helmet as he turned to the man. "Hello There poetienal Squad mate Braccio of Valhallan warriors I'am Jaws of the Eversor Temple Here to join you on our righteous journey of slaying Vile enemies of the emporer." the Eversor said through her helmet and extending a hand to the Valhallan
"Well... I imagine it is one way to earn the respect of the other's here if I can fight well enough. But perhaps you're right. It'll come in time." She stated with a shrug, stopping along with him. She simply watched for a moment as he traced the features on the bulkhead. Jean took a few steps closer to get a better look. "Oh me? Well... I'm not entirely sure. But if I was to guess, it would likely have something to do with my time with the Ordo Hereticus. I did my fair share of special jobs there." She shrugged again. "Perhaps they saw something special in me. Either way, here I am. What about you? What got you here?"
As the two Salamanders walked the decks, Draconion said to Feron, "Uncle, if you wish to explore further, I will go ahead and get our quarters in order." Having attained the older Salamander's assent, he shouldered the veteran's excess gear and parted ways to speak to the quartermaster while Feron went to explore the forge. Having stowed away all their gear in the spartan cells assigned to them, he headed out once again to indulge his own curiosity. Walking past an open portal, he realised it led to a training area kitted out for Astartes. With nothing better to do at the current time, he entered within, eyes crinkling with delight as he noticed a very well-equipped gymnasium in addition to the usual fighting cages. Stripping out of his armour, he jumped up and caught a pair of callisthenics rings hanging from the ceiling on chains. Pausing for a moment in a dead hang, he pulled himself above the rings with a muscle-up of commendable form and poise. Transitioning to an L-sit, he then lowered himself into an iron cross, brow furrowing slightly as the straightening of the spine challenged him, as it usually did. After holding the position for a few minutes, he dropped to a bent-arm hang and transitioned to skin-the-cat, straightening out his body into a front lever, which is where the others would find him when they entered the training area.
<Feron> Earlier with Draconian- "Of course, of course, spare an Elder the work of carrying too much on his poor ol back yes? " Chortling he handed off his bolter, keeping his knife and bolt pistol on his person as a precaution, one learned easily through the various hypno-therapy sessions every Astartes was subjected to rather than the hard lesson of making such a simple mistake as going about unarmed. Later with Jean- "That I am entirely unsure to. " Tracing along the engravings he found himself witnessing a tale of conquest play out, that golden age of mankind before everything went utterly dark, so very grim these days in comparison. Eyes playing over a ring of jeweled planets he continued. "There are better veterans in every field of combat compared to myself, I've a feeling either I've got unknown friends here, Young Draconian pulled some mind strings or I just happened to be available. " His small nearly ever-present smile lifted into a broad grin. "As a heads up wouldn't suggest mentioning the 'Young' bit when you meet him, gets the fires stoked in a way that doesn't help unless he's got an enemy infront of him. " Shaking his head he bit down on his tongue to hold back a proper laugh, just continuing to admire the workmanship before him.
A new vessel pulled into the docking bay, a small and sleek vessel not bearing any military markings, simply coated in an onyx paint. For all the world it looked like one of many cutters zooming about the spires of numerous hive worlds, yet something was.. Different. A careful inspection would see a fierce pair of autocannons hidden away just underneath the nose, a boosted pair of engines, reinforced frame and armor plating around the air-tight cabin.. Highly illegal upgrades on the most militant of worlds, given any form of PDF or Imperial declarations. The door finally opened and a figure strode down the ramp with a swagger practiced over the course of two centuries. A high collared jacket of deep red with sleeves rolled up just past the elbows underneath a flak vest bearing both the Imperial Aquila and a miniature Inquisitorial rosette, paired bolt pistols shined to perfection and of the highest quality sitting snugly around the vest at chest level. Simple and utilitarian gray pants tucked into a pair of reinforced combat boots. A pair of black and fingerless gloves covering subtle augmetics in his wrists, fingers looped into a belt holding various pouches. A second belt looped underneath the first, connecting the holster to a third, bulky handgun hanging at the small of his back. The man himself sported a pair of fierce, hazel eyes beneath short yet unruly chestnut hair and a close shaven beard, just the slightest hints of gray at the temples that juvenat treatments just couldn't quite hide. The confidence in each step was disgusting. The way he eyed the storm troopers and the Commissar who was waiting held borderline disrespect and challenge. This was no military man. This was a necessary renegade in their midst, who had walked the line between valuable asset and being hunted by Arbitrators and the very Inquisitors who hired him for decades. His smirk turned into a full blown grin as he approached the Commissar, a hand out to the nearby data-slate holder, "Tavec Soriano. Inquisition. Nice hat, friend."
