<In the Time Before, but during the onomatopeia> The hefty *clang* of the hammer echoed down the same halls Amriel had travelled down on his first day on board the Corsair ship. It was a ritual he had developed early on. After repairing his armor in every fight, he left a single dent or scratch or hole unrepaired in his armor. This...imperfection...would be left until the eve of his next mission. He would rise hours before he was due to be anywhere, heading to the forge in order to fix the dent, for in that ritual he would become one with the armor, every etch, marking, every curve and every plate would be embedded inside his mind, the possibility of each motion running through his mind as he ran through the forms of combat in his head, ensuring that each plate would work seamlessly with the next. He performed a similar ritual with his weaponry, the fire pike receiving a rapid tune up from the trancing Fire Dragon. <Currently> Mask tucked under his arm, the Fire Dragon made his way carefully to the bridge. His body barely repressed the excitement he felt at the approach of the coming mission. Whether his expertise would be needed on the bridge he was unaware, the Corsairs had impressed him with their experience, a hard-bitten lot whose experiences were likely to be more relevant to the new mission than his own. Amriel stepped onto the bridge, his face set hard and his armor bearing the colors of his shrine when they fought solo, without the other members. The combined patterns of the Shrine made an epic of Fuegan out of color, but such a thing would not be understood by any but the Eldar. Solo, it would be one of the minor tales of Fuegan, unlikely to be known by any outside the Aspect.
<before> Lysandriax turned back to the Felarch with a short laugh. "You want to hear his idea after all? Well, then I shall gladly tell you. It would be simply wrong of me not to divulge it, yes?" She suppressed her laughter and coninued, "Duke Traevelliath Sliscus hereby formally extends to the Felarch of the Void Dragons, Iktomi, an invitation to join his own Sky Serpents." Lysandriax paused. "That's all he ever says by way of getting people to join him. He believes that his reputation speaks for itself. He is also the most arrogant being in the galaxy, save for Vect himself. Should you have said, yes, I was to return and tell him so. With you. I do not think that I will be going back, karashemon." She grinned. The bar full of his very own star-sailors was as welcoming as always, and with his endorsement, there was no real worry remaining that they would not take Avrielle to their hearts. The little radiotech did seem to bring out the best in others, or at least the less venal. Morvan nodded as the Felarch arrived, the solitary Seer having his own matters to attend to, but Morvan wasn't much one for partying anyway. Llyr padded alongside him, but Iktomi had his own adorable bundle of joy with whom to celebrate. Or at least, so it must seem to the crew. <now> As Mamzel Sheolis found her voice and her metaphorical strength, she found herself able and willing too. She made her way to the bridge, confident that the time had come to move forward and take Fate by the hand. She received a nod of respect from the Void Dreamer in her flight-throne, and a less formal greeting from the Corsair who stood beside her - was that a wink? Such quixotic creatures. The Bonesinger did not make direct eye contact with anyone, not wishing to discuss but to observe. As the Fire Dragon walked, the shadows seemed to flicker, adding subtle glimpses of the second act to his tale of the glory of Fuegan. The Phoenix Lord of Fire would be the last to fall at the Rhana Dandra, so said the ancient Seers. But who knew if their counsel still held after so long? And had the Eldar's own Fall not led to their rise from the ashes? All that was surmised was yet to be known. Aboard the bridge, the Fire Dragon could see that the elusive and elegant Bonesinger had joined the crew, and was watching the void outside. He could not see the Smith, but the Artist was there. Orthelya sketched the rapidly-spinning planets below, the alien sun, the face of her Felarch. Iktomi was in good humour. Some of the group tasked with retrieving the Sword of Eldanesh were on the bridge with him, and some were not. But all had a feeling - strongest in the Warlock and his furry companion- that the skein was knotted here, and about to come undone. "There," Reevia said, surfacing from the void-trance in which she divined the currents of the endless starsea, "that one." She shook her head, coming to a little more. "Felarch, the planet you seek is at these co-ordinates," she supplied them, along with some atmospheric data: a breathable atmosphere, rich in oxygen but colder at the surface than was favoured by most Craftworlds. Major landmasses, with the commensurate climates, scattered a jade-green ocean, and the white swirl of clouds obscured much of what was to see even as Juri brought up the close-range scans. The planetside location was hidden by one such, which was, perhaps, typical luck. But the peekaboo tips of mountains could be glimpsed relatively close by. "Do you want a shuttle? Captain?" Juri asked, remembering the title just a fraction too late. "Or do you have another way to travel?" His eye slid past Lysandriax. In fact, many of the crew seemed to view her this way - as if she might be a reflection one suspected of moving when one's back was turned. @High_Adept_Zeth @Uriel1339 @MetalDog4 @kanila @Casavay @Nurianis @Colapse @DaKaptin
Despite being a Corsair ship it still held the ever-present sense of order that was unspoken, even in the most critical situations.Morvan was never a party to the ships of other races but had some inkling from the records he studied.Especially those of humans.Most hopeless they are, out of all the mon`keigh, yet incredibly amusing to the Warlock. "There," Reevia said, surfacing from the void-trance in which she divined the currents of the endless starsea, "that one." She shook her head, coming to a little more. "Felarch, the planet you seek is at these co-ordinates," she supplied them, along with some atmospheric data: a breathable atmosphere, rich in oxygen but colder at the surface than was favoured by most Craftworlds. Major landmasses, with the commensurate climates, scattered a jade-green ocean, and the white swirl of clouds obscured much of what was to see even as Juri brought up the close-range scans. The planetside location was hidden by one such, which was, perhaps, typical luck. But the peekaboo tips of mountains could be glimpsed relatively close by. "Do you want a shuttle? Captain?" Juri asked, remembering the title just a fraction too late. "Or do you have another way to travel?" His eye slid past Lysandriax. In fact, many of the crew seemed to view her this way - as if she might be a reflection one suspected of moving when one's back was turned. Suddenly this Lysandriax attracted his attention, but he kept a neutral posture on the bridge, with his stance unchanged.He thought nothing of her when the introductions were made in the lounge bar...yet it seems some shadow permanated her.Some obscurity of character, not of soul.It stank of alterior motives.She walked and talked like one...but she did not seem like a Void Dragon to him.A wrinkle formed on his forehead as a worry formed in his mind. It shook him to the core what the thought entailed with it...but perhaps retrieving of the Sword might not be hardest part of this task. Focusing at the matter at hand, he asked their beloved Captain, careful not to disturb the balance of hierarchy and order on the bridge. "I studied the star-charts of this region that were provided.They are ancient...but wasn't here an Exodite colony before?Cant we read anything that comes from the planet?It is not wise to go in blind." The tapestry had a knot here that was about the unravel at this spot.It was difficult to explain but probably everyone felt it on the ship.He could be at fault considering they are close to the Eye and thus the Enemy.
Faenkon felt it, as the others did as well. He donned his armor ensuring every piece was snug and secure. He noiselessly hopped up and down several times, satisfied with the lack of noise produced by his equipment he grabbed his rifle and headed for the bridge. The atmosphere buzzed and Faenkon felt the tension as he walked the corridors. It wasn't a negative tension, it was more akin to the tension felt from an arrow that was drawn back and eagerly waiting it's release. Another step closer to their target! He soundlessly entered the bridge flanked by the small drone. He watched as the events unfolded around him, in particular he paid close attention to the scans. They showed little information, but what they did show was valuable. He continued to analyze the stream of information, absorbing every tidbit he could gather.
The disconcerting feeling given off by the Void Dragon concerned Amriel. Not because it unnerved him, no, it was because it made the others uncomfortable, and that was no good for working as a team, especially in a life or death situation. The information on the screen was good to know, the cold temperature would make it easier to deal with the metal boxes their usual enemy called "tanks" in their uncouth tongue. Indeed it would make getting past anything metal easier, and would be a blessing so long as it was not too cold as to effect their equipment. "An exodite colony was here? Do we know if they are still here or will we be marching through their ruins and potentially have to deal with what wiped them out?" His tone suggested that should they have been wiped out, he wouldn't mind a chance to avenge their fallen kin.
[Present] "An impulse is only as strong as you express it, all the more difficult to keep focused. That's why the promise of danger and hardship keeps those powerful expressions in check."Iktomi said to the shocked Yareli in a twirl. She seemed seemed far away when he saw her, deep in thought. How she colored balancing emotion and cycles of rigorous training. 'We must know all emotions before we can master them. Only experience can teach that.' The Felarch thought before coming to a stop, still holding Yareli's hand. "I didn't mean to leave you last night. Not seeing my crew after so long had made me reminded me how much I had missed them. Truly selfish behavior. From now on, only you will stand beside me before anyone else. Except perhaps our dear Avrielle. As my future radio tech, it's unavoidable." Iktomi says with a smirk. When Iktomi found the ball of fluff, he was at a loss for what to do. Lyre simply lay there, undisterbed, comfortable, and making him jealous. It was his seat after all, but he knew that if he woke the feline the War-Seer would know. Can't be having two of his crew bitter at him. Instead Iktomi scratched Lyre's ears until he awoke, picked him up quickly, and set him down on his lap. "Sorry about that little warrior. I know that was a little much all at once, but now we can both sit here." OOC: Will post again soon.
Yareli moved in time with her beloved Felarch, and stopped equally. She looked him deep in the eyes as he spoke, of course giggling soft as his joke about Avrielle. "Do not mistake me for someone who requires all the attention of yours. I know quite well the responsibilities of leaders... I should not come first. If it is a choice between the Arcadia and me, the choice should always be the Arcadia. The oaths you have sworn, the oaths that had been sworn to you, the responsibilities you carry out within the Void Dragons." She shook her head and smiled. "I enjoy the thought of becoming one man's primary, if not even sole focus, your quest so to speak. But it is not my fate, nor yours. You are a Felarch, first and foremost. You may become a spouse, but the moment I asked you to settle somewhere with me, would be as if to ask you to grow cold and die on the inside." She placed a hand on Iktomi's chest, right in the center. "The desire and passion for adventure burns as strong within your soul as does the ambers in Vaul's Forges. I would never dare to take that from you, and neither would I take your leadership position nor skills. Whether they know it or not... They need you. Perhaps not all of them, like Reevia. But you gave all these people the opportunity to live free, to let no shackles bind them, like you have broken free of them... Like you have broken mine... And, that beauty of life. That dedication of yours. It shall continue until either the flame of adventures or your life cease to exist." Still one hand on his chest, the other escaped his hand and moved to his cheek.
The mamzel rolled her eyes at this star-sailor's playful wink, giving her silent reply with a frozen face and a slight, for mon-keigh invisible, shake of the head. 'No', she thought. Not now. She didn't have the right set of mind to deal with these odd creatures right now, with this gypsy culture of mercurial courting and fleeting affections. Her thoughts were slippery fish in a bucket. Easy to grasp, but they leapt out of her bare hands. Sheolis heard the words but thought of blissful sleep. The reverbrations of an insulted Snow's Voice still bounced in her skull like a pack of Warp Spiders gone mad, hunting phantasmal parasites and scratching, skittering over, and biting the bone cage that held them. Empty blue eyes got caught on the hologram of the planet, a symphony of colours unravelling and serving as a distraction from this winking jester and the talk of... shuttles, and exodites. The Warp Spiders were singing a tune to match the sight, and Kith hummed along quietly.
Llyr stretched on the Felarch's knee and made a small sound, evidently bored by all this billing and cooing. The little gyrinx hopped down and went in search of Morvan. Warlock Jain, the unspoken curl of his tail suggested, knew when to stick to the matter at hand (which was of course, Llyr). He batted at the Seer's ankle with one white paw. "I'll ready a shuttle, then" Juri said, taking the initiative and seeing that his Captain had other things on his mind. If the Corsair was rolling his eyes then so be it; insubordination was in his nature. "I'll make sure you have supplies for a couple of weeks. We wouldn't want you all to be stranded without adequate booz- that is, refreshments." Despite his light tone, Juri exchanged glances with Reevia. Can we let them go, Reev? Do we have a choice? I mean really? No, I suppose not. "Look, if you're going down there, Captain, then a couple of reinforcements wouldn't be a bad idea. I'll see who I can round up." Juri made his way from the bridge and went to make himself useful. It was a day of novelty. Reevia herself turned to Amriel and Faenkon. She shifted her stance to include Morvan, as if she viewed him as some kind of additional leader, though the gesture was fleeting. "It was known as an Exodite world, but we do not have any up to date records of the state of the colony. I believe that it thrives. They did not have any major settlements in the mountainous regions we are looking at, but the cloud cover is baffling our scans somewhat. And to be honest, the amount of things to pick up from orbit from an Exodite world are mostly limited to a very slight amount of light pollution on major festival days." "You might find a small place, and they could give you some local knowledge, but - well, we look like decadent outsiders." "Speak for yourself," someone heckled. "I speak for the Arcadia, unless our dear Felarch is doing so," Reevia responded. Our reputation, her body language said, is more shot than a Warp Spider's target range. Whether or not the Warlock was paying him attention, Llyr's thoughts were still those of a juvenile (one day, he would surely grow much bigger ...). He grew tired of batting the Seer's boot and bounced on over to the new and interesting psychic mind in the chamber. Kithaere Sheolis, even of temper today if unquiet of mind. The little gyrinx regarded her with tilted head and wide open eyes. His curiosity was only made more obvious by the tiny chirp he emitted, as if in doing so he would communicate feline to feline. This didn't quite work, but his face was intent. Morvan could detect Llyr's curiosity from the other side of the chamber. It felt slightly electrical, like the potential one feels at the break of a day after a night of storms. The harmonic wave from Snow's Voice stilled a little, the notes subtly changing. Llyr sat, his tail curled around his paws, looking at Kithaere. Just as if he were puzzling her out. Orthelya smiled, taking a moment from her composition of the grand painting of Iktomi the Elusive to sketch the questing gyrinx. Seer Jain, the words tapped at the edges of Morvan's mind, seeking psychic conversation. May I speak with you privately in the mind? He recognised Reevia, the Void-Dreamer. @High_Adept_Zeth @Uriel1339 @MetalDog4 @kanila @Casavay @DaKaptin
Faenkon gave a slight shrug of his shoulders, par for the course. Very little Intel to go off of, but honestly what did he expect on a search as legendary as this. "Well unobserved observation is almost always the best way to find out true motive, but for some reason I don't see that happening." He looked to Iktomi, "Flashy is the word of the day I presume?" If things went correctly he could utilize the flash and awe that the corsairs more than not presented, easily sneaking away in the confusion. He could still observe even while the others played the diplomat, or whatever course was taken. "Either way, I believe it would be wise to observe them. I would be happy to stay hidden and watch, besides what better way to keep my training up than against worth opponents." Putting his hands up defensively, "Not saying they should be treated as an enemy, more of an unknown variable is all." He really needed to work on this whole communication thing, he was slowly realizing how some of what he said may come across as downright hostile. "Is it possible to get the information we have available? Even old news is better than none." He motioned the drone closer ready to record any data he could for later review. Plus the drone would be vital in updating this exodite world for future records.
