While the Word Bearer talked, Viator was puzzled with the chamber's occupant. An amalgam of flesh, obviously tied by some warp interference and controlled by a singular unit, which seemed to be in the zone with shaping flesh with its mind. Or whatever else was the way to do it but despite being curious, Viator knew that if he asked that question he would not like the answer. What also occurred to him is what would happen if he cuts off a piece of it? Would the thing just regrow it back or would the smaller part perhaps start wiggling on its own? As he thought about it he was unaware that he pulled his sword out of scabbard and was dangerously close stabbing it into the fleshy form of female with the sign of the Inquisition on it. Hearing Verriel's answer concerning questions asked by the two Thousand Sons he snapped out and focused on the matter at hand, while a part of his mind still enjoyed listening to the sweet sounds of misery this chamber occupants were producing. "Yes, most interesting mission for our most glorious talents and whatnot," he added, returning his sword on his back and patting the form of the Inquisition woman on the head, "While we are down there, would you perhaps like to bring you some sort of a memorabilia? Maybe a Leman Russ' battery to get some light in this place or perhaps a cyber spider pet to send fetch us some cleaning oil when we, ehm, need it?"
OOC: No problem I'll change it so that their isn't any armor. Oh and I found the Shotcannon on the wiki but I'll change it to a bolt pistol since I do not think they have them for Astartes.
OOC: Thank you, during Armory Phase keep it to the stuff I list in the equipment list beneath the post
"If you find anything that might be of interest to ourselves or our allies feel free to bring it back! Sweetening the deal helps you too ya know. As for extraction you'll have to extract yourselves to where the portal initially drops you off, there you will be able to withdraw right back into this lovely little flesh nest. "
@Vlayden "Ohhhh it seems we have a guest! " Verriel watched as another robed figure was unceremoniously booted into the darkness. Alkaz, he who was known as the Summoner, found himself shoved into the fleshy confines of the chamber. Within his first uneasy step the passage behind him had vanished and a third Thousand Son joined the party gathered before the quivering mass of flesh and melded bodies. "I'm none too fond of repeating myself so I'll trust you all to fill him in, consider it another objective if that helps! Any other questions or may I shuffle you kids on off to the park? "
The weakened figure gave off a mere hiss as he was shoved inwards, glancing about at... Whomsoever might else be here. He did not say anything just yet, merely analyzing the group for now and adjusting the robes he wore. Weakened eyes, left him requiring to stare unneccessarily long at each individual! "...Where am I?" He rasped afterwards - perhaps a question he had repeated far too often since his... 'Return'.
< Play Date with HERESY > "Moving right along, go forth and serve you wretches. Come back successful and mostly intact and perhaps I'll bump you up to just being called scorned, or slaves. Really your slaves either way...." Verriel turned toward the hooded figure perched on bulbous flesh form. "Tell the flock it is time." Without hesitation the sorcerer turned and casually paced into the darkness. The Coalesced One steepled its fingers and croaked at them quietly. "Bewaaare servants of the Word Beaaaaarers. The threads of fate... are twisteeeeddd. Soouls entwined with that of Toruuuusveeek will be present. Yoouuu are not, the only hunteeeeers. "Nine twisted hands began to pull at the generous flab rolls of the meld-being, desperately raking at its own flesh as if trying to roll out dough. The single, seemingly, coherent being sprouting from the other aborted excuses for people began chanting. More and more skin was scooped and peeled away until what appeared to be a massive mouth was revealed. Decaying teeth framed a steadily growing twinkle of light that soon blossomed into a vortex of chaotic color. "Your poooortal issss complete. " The torso sprouting out of the top of the creature extended its arms outward in an inviting gesture. Considering their options were try to escape and inevitably die to the Word Bearers, or their brands, or take the dive into a portal leading to a supposed war zone in a heretek fortress... it was probably a better idea to dive into the flesh portal. < Welcome to ???? Get Your Shit and Get Out > The portal dumped them out onto a shoddily constructed dock of rotting wood and corroded metals. Beneath this was a pond of what was quite clearly sludge, considering their destination it was probably toxic run off from the forges. Looking up and all around they were clearly underground or inside a structure, the lack of lighting made it difficult to tell. Stretching out from the dock were a multitude of walkways and bridges constructed from all sorts of materials. Rope bridges sat flaccidly on the water while bolted together plates of plas-steel formed lily pad like chains of platforms across the waters. Built around this pool was a shanty town, the sort one would expect to house mutants and castaways that had escaped a forge. Once everyone had translated to their destination the portal behind them shrunk away until it ultimately twisted in upon itself forming a tumor like growth on the dock. For the psykers present it oozed an aura of dormant power, for everyone in total it visibly oozed an oily substance that was rapidly hardening into a transparent coating. A series of slurping sounds and deep wheezes drew the attendant warrior's eyes to their hosts. "The bearers of the word have arrived! Prostrate yourselves! " A hunched figure wearing a re-breather unit and clad in patchwork robes waved a crooked cane formed from a severed arm and a rusty pike about. Mutants of various shapes and sizes immediately took to their knees or lowered themselves as appropriate if lacking jointed legs. Seven space marines equipped like scouts and wearing only the robes and sandals granted to them by the Word Bearers were suddenly looking like proper angels before at least a hundred deformed and diseased freaks scattered all around the great sludge shanty town. " Deliverers and disciples of glorious Chaos! How might we serve?! " Mission One Started: To Catch a Heretek Primary Objective: Bring Torusvek back to the Word Bearers Tertiary Objective: Fill in Alkaz on what the hell is going on @Vlayden @Draconion @Colapse @Redthirst @matt23 @Grall_Stonefist @Virgil_Corbec
Silim's interest is piqued as yet another Son joins the band - one whom he also distantly recognised from the past. Before he can make introductions , however, the entire warband is shuffled unceremoniously into the portal and deposited on the mission area. Confronted by the worshipful mutants, Silim's mind immediately shifts into high gear as he isolates a number of key objectives and calculates the paths to achieving them. @matt23 Tapping Arnok on the shoulder, he leans in to whisper confidentially, taking care to use the man's old title, "Apostle - we need to establish liaison with local support and a scouting party. Suggest you take the lead on this one, since you know best how to talk to these...devout souls. Take whoever you need, and I will see to the rest." @Vlayden Though he senses something subtlely amiss about the latest sorcerer in the group - as of a reflection in a broken mirror - he nevertheless approaches him and speaks in Prosperine. "[Join me in war-conclave, Brother. Minds in concert are stronger than minds alone.]" @Grall_Stonefist Glancing at Aphael, he remembers the enmity the other man held for him, but shows no bitterness as he invites him with a hand gesture to join them and complete the triangle. A resource is a resource. @Colapse @Redthirst @Virgil_Corbec To the rest, he turns and speaks. "Once Apostle Arnok is done sorting out the locals, it would be best for us to split into two teams. One for scouting and manoeuvre, one for observation and fire support. Any questions, suggestions or comments?"
The weakened husk merely absently nodded at the suggestion now, shuffling over to the fellow Son's side and staring at... Anything. These were... Eyes. Oh how he missed them - and these. These were servants? Slaves?? Such remarkable things... Those other Astartes are, his companions it seems. His grasp on his bolter tightened slightly: He knew that if this gift of life was to be wasted, the torture he'd been enduring for eternity would come once again, tenfold... He would protect these men, if not only as a sense of camaraderie - especially the other Sons that seemed to be in the group - as also a reason to be able to gather his strength once more. All I miss now, is a name... He pondered. What was it? Thousands, of not millions went through his mind, both mortal and daemonic, and none familiar. None his. Bah... He will figure it out later.
@Vlayden @DeranVendar Even as he addresses the others, Silim extends a tendril of thought towards Alkaz, requesting permission to link minds as prelude to a full war-conclave. If and when the invitation is accepted, Silim will briefly introduce himself and the others, as well as update Alkaz on the mission details in a pulse of condensed thought. Simultaneously , he will test Alkaz's mental faculties with a series of non-invasive stimulus-response probes to determine what exactly is wrong with the other Son. [Cantrip: Establish Telepathic Handshake.]
