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Post by Rolling Thunder on Aug 11, 2009 12:28:56 GMT -5
With an idle, cavernous yawn, Kamenev Drang stepped onto the embarkation deck, stretching himself out to his full, imposing height of seven feet. This ship was fine, but with the ceiling being only a touch above two metres, he'd been stooping for most of the trip. His joints crackled and popped, the concussion bursts of their outcry travelling through his body like the eruption of a frag grenade, as he stretched himself out with relish.
The rest of him was equal to his height. Massive, heavy shoulders set off his frame, shifting beneath his greatcoat like plates of armour, though he wore little, save a pair of heavy, functional bracers, interworkings of bronze detailing a pair of dragons, or else serpents, winding together in a fire-wreathed embrace against the black, razor-edged adamantium. Most of the rest was obscured by the overlapping flow of his great, grey-black coat that rippled and flapped about him like the mainsail of some ancient warship.
A pair of heavy gauntlets encased his hands in a cruel embrace. An iron fist, in an iron glove.
At his hip, a flanged mace hung, the two and half foot of handle ending in a imposing head of grey-black adamant, inlaid with wide, heavy blades and spines. Inside the concealing mass of his cloak, a pair of knives, leashed silently in their venom-lined housings like the fangs of a viper, and, upon his waist, a series of grenades, and a large, bulky stub pistol, the name Marisia gleaming cold silver upon the slide. Across his shoulder, he had slung a Naval shotgun, almost as an afterthought in lieu. In truth, every weapon he carried was an afterthought - an accroutement. For it was he - he, and the monster he carried within, that was the true weapon.
"Emir" he whispered, holding back the agony of her abscene - the too-familiar longing, and the yawning cavern of despair that he teetered on, like wound torn in his mind where she should be.
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Post by Ymmot (M.I.A) on Aug 11, 2009 12:40:47 GMT -5
Asmodeus gives a weary sideways glance at Arett, not exactly trusting a man that spends most of his time wearing a mask, besides...the guy was just creepy, mask or not there was something deeply deranged about him... Krull could feel it. Not wanting to draw any attention Krull looks away and gazes up the corridor as Drang comes walking out. Krull steps back wards and tilts his head in a nod as the notorious mercenary goes walking past, I wonder what that guy does to relax...Asmodeus thinks to himself as he covers a smirk by itching at the side of his face and turns his eyes to look down toward Rayet.
"Yep, This is going to be a fun trip."
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Post by Aeon on Aug 11, 2009 13:39:28 GMT -5
"So..." Arett mumbled, "no one is going to answer my question, then?"
Arett should have ditched this crew a long time ago. They were worthless to him, but they did care about their money, which was a plus in his book. Then he saw Drang.
Drang was a void, but not a Null. That psyker that always followed him, (Emir, was it?), constantly avoided him as well, but nearly as much as the other psyker woman.
He couldn't blame them. He wouldn't like the feeling of desperation that so many felt when around him...
Ah well. One crew was better than no crew. He supposed this Firetide could be a good opportunity to earn some extra Thrones, so he grabbed his ornate power sword and strapped it's red steel scabbard onto his back. It felt loose at first over his armoured body glove, but he quickly tightened it to a perfect fit.
Slowly, with malignant strides, Arett made his way towards the shuttle bay to join the others. He almost pittied the group that would sit with him on the ride down...almost.
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Post by Helmian (M.I.A) on Aug 11, 2009 14:29:13 GMT -5
Sternwalt picked up his bag and headed to wards the void docks.
''Mornin' Arett!'' He said as he passed him. ''Reese, Krull, Emery.'' He nodded to them. Sternwalt didn't have anything against Arett, sure it was a bit uncomfortable to be near him, but nothing he couldn't handle. Perhaps it was because he'd known him for a quite some time.
''Want some Merkiaz, Arett? Its the 987 vintage.''
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Post by RedsandRoyals on Aug 11, 2009 14:40:02 GMT -5
Reese nodded at the salutation, and promptly went back to minding his own business. He was rocking back and forth on his heels, humming quietly to himself. Another day, another mission, another memory. Who knew? This one may actually turn out to be fun.
Reds
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Post by Kaikelx on Aug 11, 2009 16:51:41 GMT -5
Emery simply returned a nod, yawned, and then promptly fell asleep.
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Post by Sister Galatea(M.I.A) on Aug 11, 2009 18:16:46 GMT -5
Not Long After....
The crew of The Blue Sun, more than fifty in all, mingle about the landers and transports eagerly awaiting their trip to Bonner's Reach. The space station below where the Firetide is held every cycle is a veritable hub of Rogue Traders, pirates, mercenaries, aliens and creatures of all shape and size. Deals are made, money is exchanged and new allies and enemies are made as resources and power move from person to person. Such a dangerous collection of beings would generally end in an all out murder fest- but guardians move about the station with wicked looking power weapons and augmetic eyes that seem to watch everything at once. Fights do occasionally break out however, but the Guardians do not intervene unless a weapon is used that is more than the reach of a man's arm. If a bolt pistol is shot, a dagger thrown, a psychic assault launched- the guardians tear into the attacker with ruthless fury. All respect the laws of the Firetide or they die without mercy...
The doors to the hanger hiss open and Captain Halstern arrives. He is dressed in a simple attire of matt black pants, a regal looking tunic and a long waist coat of Samarian silk and leather. His left eye is gone and replaced by a simple patch and at his hips are a cruel looking pair of twisted chain daggers. At his right is...her. She is alluring, captivating.....wrong. The woman in green, her eyes of jade taking you all in- it is Velladonna.
The Captain is bringing the psyker to Firetide.
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Post by Kaikelx on Aug 11, 2009 18:50:26 GMT -5
Rayet woke up with a start as the psyker walked in, and met her jade eyes with her own eyes of the dead.
She had read up on the rules, and deciding that she didn't want to upset the guardians, simply left her carbine behind, preferring instead twin gauntlet mounted short swords that were as thin as a long sword, and as long as a man's forearm, that retracted and extended on command.
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Post by Melissia on Aug 11, 2009 18:52:10 GMT -5
Finally deeming it time to actualyl wake up from her catnap, the hooded female yawns, and stretches... only to be greeted by the sight of a psyker. Being nothing if not an Emperor-fearing faithful servant, this had reason to bother her, but more than that... psykers often begot corruption, in themselves or in those around them, and corruption meant mutation... further mutation in the case of Shariss.
Something she most assuredly wanted to avoid. And so she simply averted her gaze and attempted to do what she could to ignore the psyker's presence and NOT get her attention. Was the best she could do if the rogue trader was letting her on board.
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Post by Ymmot (M.I.A) on Aug 11, 2009 19:16:25 GMT -5
Krull lurked at the edge of the hanger and waited till the doors started to open. He lifted his head slowly to look up with a rough smile and watched as the Captain and the Psyker entered. After a moment Krull pushed off the wall he was leaning against and casually strolled up toward the pair with long loping strides as he stuck both hands in his deep coat pockets. "security detail coming through..." he muttered as he gently shouldered through a small group of crewmembers as they stood around gawking then found himself a better spot to stand a little closer to the Captain and his strange yet captivating companion, just a bit curious as to what ol Halstern had to say about this new devolopment.
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Post by The Envoy (AWOL) on Aug 11, 2009 19:44:06 GMT -5
Castus saw the Psyker pass by him...and froze. He gave the lady a quick bow, then shoved his hands in his pockets to hide the fact they were visibly shaking.
What is it about that woman that terrifies me!? he asked himself as she walked past.
As she left him behind, he was able to stop his hands shaking, but was still visibly terrified of the encounter. Sweat dripping from his face, he finally managed to calm his nerves and regain his composure for the upcoming event.
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Post by Sister Galatea(M.I.A) on Aug 12, 2009 10:34:49 GMT -5
Captain Halstern cups his hand about his mouth and thumbs the node to a small, handheld igniter held within. The fat, chewed cigar hanging from the corner of his clenched teeth lights up like a lasguns activation rune and glows like a hot cherry as he takes a long drag. "Men and Women of this fine Ship." He says with a grin. "Are you ready to have a damn good time?" A roar of approval goes up. "Remember crew. The Firetide will make us all richer, happier and more entertained then we have been in a long time. But keep in mind...the festival is filled with dangerous people and creatures. Keep to the law of the Guardians and know that if you should break those laws there ain't a damn thing in Lucky Space I can do to pull you out of the fire." Halstern takes a smooth draw from his cigar and takes it in his fingers, flicking it twice to knock the ash away. "We've got six days before the festival ends so make the best of it. It will be a long time before we drop anchor again and I don't want you fine lads and lasses going stir crazy on me.."
A bold crewmen, somewhere in the back, speaks up. "Captain Sir....why is SHE coming with us?"
Halstern returns the cigar to his mouth. In the shadows where he is standing only the ember glow can be seen for a moment. An awkward moment.
"Because there is a game about to take place with some very powerful people and I want to assure that I show up with the best piece in the box." He says. Velladonna, to his side, looks up at him with those cool green eyes...but says nothing.
Halstern's voice returns to its boisterous, bold tone. "Alright people! Enough standing around! We've got a Firetide to attend!" Again, a roar of approval, though slightly less enthusiastic then the one before. The landers and transports are prompty loaded and they fall like rose petals to the space station known as Bonner's Reach below.
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Post by Rolling Thunder on Aug 12, 2009 11:12:20 GMT -5
God damn it, Drang thought, as he saw the psyker. She's just like....too like Emir. The eyes are the wrong colour, the hair's just off-shade, the skin tone too dark - but it's the same damn pose, the same ethereal, effortless confidence of a woman who knows everyone in this place just by walking in the door, so supremely confident and so mockingly, achingly beautiful. Same damn haunted, piercing eyes, like verdant, green blades, so sharp and yet so vast..... Cut it out man! She's not Emir. Hang it, Emir could barely bear to touch you most of the time, and yet you're still clinging to those pathetic moments like a child to a ragged blanket.
Idly, he reached into his own pocket, and removed his own tabac - the hiss of a matchhead, the bright, almost explosive ignition of the phosphorous flaring in the darkness as he lit the cigar. A low, sweet aroma filled his lungs as he inhaled the burning tobacco.
Looking down - almost two feet down - he saw what could only be another mutant. Homo Sapiens Panthera, unless he was mistaken, with the long tail, and graceful, feline movements. He smiled. So, there was another twist aboardship, if he wasn't much mistaken.
Smiling, he tapped her on the shoulder, and said in a soft tone:
"Hello there, pretty lady. Name's Drang. Care to tell me yours?"
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Post by RedsandRoyals on Aug 12, 2009 11:24:30 GMT -5
Reese rifled through his medical kit as he waited to board a lander. Satisfied that he had everything he needed, he checked his other gear. In a sheath strapped to his boot was a combat knife. Although he never liked using it, it was deadly in his hands. He knew exactly where to cut, where to slice, where to stab, to kill a man quickly and quietly. He also had a switch blade, but he only used that for emergency medicae, when there was simply nothing else he could use. He also had his pistol at his hip. Rules be damned, he was taking it. It had saved his life more times then he could count, and he wasn't going to leave it behind.
For the same reason, he was wearing his flak vest over his neatly pressed uniform. He had polished it, sanded out most of the dings and dents, and given it a fresh coat of dark green paint. His helmet, painted the same color, was fastened to the webbing at his hip. He examined it, running his fingers along the words "Glass Keep", stenciled onto the back of his helmet. A sad smile crossed his lips for a moment. No one had asked him what that meant, which was fine with him. He wasn't going to tell them even if they did.
Gear check finished, he stepped aboard the lander, and strapped himself in.
Reds
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Post by Aeon on Aug 12, 2009 11:32:46 GMT -5
Arett boarded the lander after the medic, noticing him rubbing his fingers over a stencil on the back of his helmet. Probably just a posting or a unit name, he suppossed, and to be honest, he didn't even really care.
He sat down and smiled beneath his steel mask as everyone in the drop pod shuttered in the presence of a pariah.
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Post by Ymmot (M.I.A) on Aug 12, 2009 11:52:47 GMT -5
Krull ponders what the Captain meant with his cryptic words about games and such and decided that he was just going to have to find out somehow. He considered the psyker for a moment as he stood taking it all in...it couldn't really be as simple as cheating at cards could it? He smiled and gave Velladonna a glance, willing to risk getting caught in that chilling yet lovely green gaze. "Heh, Ol Halstern and his lady friend sure got the whole crowd on edge." Krull said as he came up beside Drang "Not you though, isn't that right big fella? The ghost of Horus himself couldn't put the fright in you I'll wager."
Noticing the hooded female Krull leans forward to look around Kamenev and raises a hand to wave. "Hello, I almost didn't see you there..." he looks back up at Drang and smirks then slowly backs away.
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Post by Rolling Thunder on Aug 12, 2009 12:42:04 GMT -5
"What ghost?" intoned Drang, a mocking, evil smile whispering it's way over the pallid, dead flesh of his face.
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Post by Melissia on Aug 12, 2009 15:37:25 GMT -5
Responding to Drang's request for a name, the woman's own piercing green eyes gazed into Drang's for a moment-- not like the psyker's, no, more like the predatorial beast of some variation of large cat whom her mutations mimick very seriously. A stare that seemed to judge the person, as if determining wether or not they're worthy of attention. This contrasted greatly with her friendly and disarming smile, and without the ability to mindread it would be impossible to tell if her eyes are to be trusted to show how she really feels, or her smile.
"Shariss, sir. And may I have the honor of knowing yours?" The woman kept her feline parts hidden, but at the same time even with her hood and robes she looked like she could pass for a noblewoman. Her voice was like soft like the silken robe she wore, with no hint of a purr or any other unhuman aspects in it. Whomever she served, she most certainly seemed to do so as a primarilly social agent rather than a soldier.
The robe itself framed her fair and, admittedly beautiful features with dark blue silk, showing only her hands and face and leaving everything else hidden-- Drang likely saw her tail as she slept, moving about under her robe, as standing up it is nearly invisible.
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Post by Rolling Thunder on Aug 12, 2009 16:01:21 GMT -5
"Kamenev Drang" said Drang, those words rolling off his tongue with a fluid, easy grace that belied their true, horrific meaning. Another smile ghosted over his features, kinder than the last, as he averted his eyes for a moment in polite greeting, and returned to looking into those strange, feline eyes with a mixture of curiousity. Too half-animals watching one another on a ferro-steel deck, each one judging the other without reserve.
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Post by The Envoy (AWOL) on Aug 12, 2009 16:20:33 GMT -5
The young officer turned away from the crowd.
He really wasn't all that interested in the festival, or really to get off the ship. He wanted to stay here, if only for a day or two, and wander the halls. So, he decided to do so, he knew he could hitch a lander tomorrow on it's way down.
Turning on his heel, he exited the hangar and began the trek back to his quarters.
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Post by Melissia on Aug 12, 2009 17:11:18 GMT -5
Her face or body posture doesn't seem to betray a single thing-- as Drang is an expert in the field of combat, so too does Shariss appear to be an expert in social interactions and deception.
"Well, sir Drang, it is a pleasure to meet you. Are you also here for the Firetide?"
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Post by Kaikelx on Aug 12, 2009 17:12:15 GMT -5
Emery took a seat next to the medic, taking comfort in staying near someone else who used to be Guard.
She noticed the man rub something on the back of his helmet, probably a unit phrase, or a battle.
She herself had her own symbol.
Clenching her hand into a fist, she turned it around, revealing a drawing stenciled into the gauntlet. It was a "482", with a background of crossing swords. The 8 had been replaced with a laughing skull.
With a small force of habit, she muttered.
"We are Hell's Bane..."
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Post by Ymmot (M.I.A) on Aug 12, 2009 17:27:24 GMT -5
"Ah hah...a true believer, I admire that." he said to Drang with a smile as he slipped away. No doubt the big mercenary was too preoccupied to care or notice anyway.
"Hm...all sorts of curious glances getting tossed around in this crowd...it might be wisest just to keep my head down." he mused to himself out loud as he wandered though the crowd of people heading for the lander. He was intent on getting closer to the captain and the psyker...figuring it might not be such a bad idea to make his services available if there was any nefarious business to be had. Damn the Guardians, he was keeping his pistols right where he always kept them. He didn't expect to use them...which would likely be a fatal mistake, but he wasn't going to leave them behind.
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Post by Kaikelx on Aug 12, 2009 20:31:22 GMT -5
Bored, Emery turned to Reese.
"So.......What unit were you with? I was with the 482nd Hell's Bane, 7th company. I dropped behind enemy lines one time, and got left behind on accident....This Elysian Major tried to get me back to my unit, but I ended up serving with for a Rouge Trader....Next thing you know, I change hands and end up here...."
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Post by RedsandRoyals on Aug 12, 2009 20:53:56 GMT -5
Reese sighed inwardly.
Oh good. This one liked to talk.
"Sounds like quite a story, kid. Elysians are good people, though. Worked with them a few times, got nothing for respect for them. Still, they're a little nuts. Gotta be to jump out of a perfectly good Valk, right?" He gave the kid an easy smile, one that had put wonded and dying men at ease for years.
Reds
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