"Journey Into The Vast Expanse..." - WH40K RP IC Thread

[Ace_General]

Once she was alone again did she smile a little. Somehow it was amusing to see their awkward situation. A hardened Commissar and an ex-Inquisition Acolyte struggling with their own fellings for each other, how unprobable it sounded. Life was strange, she thought as she sat on her bed. It hurt when she touched the back of her head.

"Gustave, I need you."

The servo-skull came out of nowhere, or at least it seemed that way as it was silent and kept out of site most of the time. It floated around her head, scanning her wound. Gustave set to work quickly, it's small robotic arms washing and sealing most of the injury with metal stitches. It hurt a little but Terrela did not feel much thanks to her still slightly groggy state. Her clothes lay next to her so she picked up her bolt pistol and cleaned it while the servo-skull finished its operation with burning the wound shut. She would have to visit Stein later, but right now she needed to be her old self quickly. The Commissar set to work, praying to the God-Emperor for strength.

Fifteen minutes later, a dark figure emerged from the cabin into the hallway. The three men saw the old Commissar, uniform and skull gas mask on, power sword drawn and brimming with energy in her right hand and bolt pistol loaded and ready in her left. Her strides were confident and straight with no sign of her weaker state. Terrela turned to Drake.

"Short version of the situation now, Captain. I expect traitors for the firing line."

Buck gives the Commissar the Sign of the Aqulia and says

The Emperor protects Madam Commissar

[Iron Aquilifer]

When he woke again, it was with a cry of loss. He had been dreaming; heartache was all they ever gave him now. It had been in the name of the Emperor. That was what he told himself. That was what everyone told him. Surely he had done his duty? He had accepted that thing to fight the enemy of man. He had been willing to sacrifice his life for his duty.

A medic orderly, old and bent double, recoiled at the sight of the now awake patient. He had been about to inject something in to Uriel, the syringe just about to pierce skin. The notion of having something foreign placed in to him without consent...

His arn came flying up, thanking the orderly for his inexperience. The straps binding his top to the bed had been removed, and so his fist connected with the man's chin, sending him sprawling.

Taking the chance he had been given, Uriel freed himself from the bed. He launched himself at the orderly, sending him crashing in to a monitor. Blood sprayed everywhere as some sort of surgical device punched through his shoulder, keeling him pinned.

"Where is my equipment?" Uriel demanded as he glanced around the empty room.

Before the elder could reply, the soldier spotted his helmet, recently cleaned, peering out of a locker. He jogged over to it, throwing the door open to reveal his body armour.

"Why the hell did you not put my stuff in the armoury?" That would have made the most sense. It would have kept him defenseless.

As he put on the familiar weight of his combat suit, Uriel noticed a laspistol, complete with power cells and several hotshot rounds. It wasn't one of his, and the grip felt odd, but it was better than nothing.

As the patient armed himself, the orderly tried to force himself out of the agonising grip of the surgical machine. However the pain was too much, and as he threw himself forward, he lost all awareness. Landing on the unforgiving ground, the orderly's head smacked on the cold floor, crunching bone echoing loudly.

Sparing only a moment to pray for the man, Uriel pulled himself out of the medical station. He was in pain, and the freeness of his thoughts made him unsure, but the Elysian knew where he was going. A familiar voice was guiding him forward.

Two men, obviously some form of security, recoiled at the sight of the stumbling soldier as they approached the medical wing. He was theirs to keep contained in the medical station, but they had assumed he was still safely locked up.

"Hold it!" one of them managed to demand before Uriel was firing, lasbolts blowing cauterized holes in their unprotected faces. He didn't stop moving, although he bent down to scoop up a shotgun, checking to make sure it was loaded.

And then he was off at a slow jog.

[Jokern]

A noise was heard from Commissar Terrela's earpiece for a moment before a voice was heard by her. It was a clear frequency and the words were not interrupted by any distortion. The Armsman gave her no enjoyable news: the Elysian had woken up, nearly killed an orderly and was now on the run, armed and dangerous. She sighed. This was going to be a long day. The Commissar turned to Drake.

"I guess you heard that, Captain. I'll handle the patient, no need for you to deal with such a minor problem."

With that she was off, running down the hall towards the medical quarters. After several kilometers of walking, she met up with a group of Armsmen and ordered them to follow her and ready their weapons. Terrela would not take any chances with an experienced Elysian, no matter how weakened he was. She kept receiving updates on Uriel's movements with more crew members joining the hunt. Even if the Victrix was immense, the ship was heavily populated on the upper levels. Unless he somehow made his way to the lower levels, Uriel would not escape the Commissar.

The medical bay was a mess. The orderly still lay squirming on the floor with Stein over him. Broken equipment decorated the floor and walls as well. Some servitors were already working with cleaning and fixing what could be salvaged. Terrela simply noted the destruction and continued the hallway where the Elysian had fled. Several dead and injured Armsmen lay along the way, completely ignored by the Commissar and her twenty men armed with lasguns and shotguns.

Finally they heard gunfire close to them. Terrela and the Armsmen checked their weapons one last time and prayed to the Emperor for protection before charging forward. There he was, armed in his combat gear and still on the run.

"Fire line, two rows!"

The soldiers took up their positions next to the Commissar who held her sword high in the air. The first row took a knee while the second row stood up. They had trained many times to quickly execute her orders in battle.

"Ready! Aim! Fire!"

The power sword swung down and the rows lit up like a line of light. Shotgun shells and lasgun fire flew through the air towards Uriel, as well as bolt rounds from the Commissar's firearm.

[Ace_General]

Buck takes postion on the flank of the line of armsmen and instead of firing blindly at the armored and elusive elysian, removes the magazine of standard ammo and slams in a new mag of AP slug rounds, and fires the one standard softpoint round in the chamber, then activates the infared and targeting sensors in his mechanical eye

The grizzled ex armsmen(Buck's first command was as an armsmen) shakes his head at the volley fireing of the limited capacity shotguns. Its bad enough the scatterguns didnt have the power to penetrate the rogue guardsmen armor, but the volley firing was even worse, giving the enemy ample warning to take cover, all the while exposing the armsmen to return fire. The 'nids must of done some serious damage to her brain

Buck shouts to the commissar


All do respect M'mam, but you aint gonna hit feth volley firing, nor those scatterguns gonna dent his armor cept up close. We need to have one group take cover and lay down suppressing fire, then another move to flank and close to the kill with bayonets, grenades, and close range gunfire. We aint a bunch of damned Mordian toy soliders fighting 'nids or orks for Emperors sake!

OOC: Basic infantry combat. Shoot and maneuver till you can close with the enemy to kill him up close and personal. Like my 'nam veteran Professor said, if your not shooting and moving, your dead

[McScottish]

Everything...

OOC: Jesus in Heaven, Ace. Firstly, she said for everyone else to stay where they were, secondly, Jokern has left the volley open-ended for Stannis to react to it either way. Also, they're in a bloody ships corridor, where exactly would you want them to move to? Toward him, or back? Because that's pretty much the only places to go. Lastly, I wouldn't be surprised if Hightower got shot for his 'suggestions', at some point.

I'll get a post up in a minute. Try to keep OOC to the appropriate thread too.

[McScottish]

The Ulthwean scarecrow emerged from the shadow casually, his bare footsteps stopping on the stone right around the specimen's head.
With a grimace and a curious tilt of the head that made a mockery of pity, he stepped just ever so slightly, and began to...

Even in here, he could do some things, minor things.
His arms went outwards in a summoning posture, and plasma-like light began to emerge from his hands and eyes like smoke from a lit candle or a cigar.
The blueish mauve filled the hill, like a candle in a dark tunnel, beating against the walls and columns like a flickering torch.
This hall... it was ancient. Of some sort, it was much older than the Xenosium. Murals even seemed to remain on some of the crumbling columns.
There was a story here.

With a strange sound from the bends of the world and bowels of the warp, the witchery smacked back into Solat'suith's frame, and the hall became dark again, followed by a grotesque noise from the creature's body. The obscene breathing stopped.

"It has gone to its gods" concluded the lyrical voice as its footsteps moved towards the far exit.
"Let us go then, serah."

The docking point was just above the next corridor as he remembered.

Bourne almost threw himself to the ground, neither wanting nor expecting the unnatural abilities of the Eldar to become manifest in the chamber in which they now were. Instead he stood his ground, watching as the Witch made his way toward the doorway at the far side, taking a deep breath and following with las-pistol in hand.

"Why could you not have done that before you stabbed him? Why then?" He questioned sternly, wishing to know why he had had to nearly give up his life more than once in that fight alone.

Their steps carried them into a new corridor, the docking bay somewhere above them, if he guessed correctly, Bourne becoming almost mute as he waited for the answer; Only a few more steps and they would come to the shuttle, once aboard and away from this planet Bourne would feel far safer, though with Sol around he would nevertheless feel just as uneasy.



Meanwhile, on board the Victrix...



After watching Terrela, and Hightower for some odd reason, race off to intercept the revived Uriel- no doubt after the abomination pulled from his backside -Drake gathered Martell to him and set off at a swift jog through the bowels of the vessel. While truly a mystery to outsiders, his ship was known to him as well as the back of his hand, every crevice and every winding passage all so familiar, and within a matter of minutes they came to the corridor where Logan's cabin was located; it had been sealed from outside and locked against any attempts to get out, only the Trader able to open it from outside.

A small group of Armsmen in their black-and-red livery stood by, six or seven men carrying various weapons, mostly shotguns and cutlasses, a scattergun here and there, but there was no sign of Durante.

"We will wait here for the Arbites," muttered Drake, inhuman noises already eminating from within the cabin, the sound of smashing furniture and something hacking at the walls all too clear, "what is in there is more dangerous than the parasite and Uriel both. What was Logan is now something else, so do not be afraid to use force to subdue it. Dead or alive, it does not escape this room."

His eyes never seemed to leave the door, his override card ready in one hand, his other clenched over the butt of his Hellpistol.

[Dirty Chai]

Bourne almost threw himself to the ground, neither wanting nor expecting the unnatural abilities of the Eldar to become manifest in the chamber in which they now were. Instead he stood his ground, watching as the Witch made his way toward the doorway at the far side, taking a deep breath and following with las-pistol in hand.

"Why could you not have done that before you stabbed him? Why then?" He questioned sternly, wishing to know why he had had to nearly give up his life more than once in that fight alone.

Their steps carried them into a new corridor, the docking bay somewhere above them, if he guessed correctly, Bourne becoming almost mute as he waited for the answer; Only a few more steps and they would come to the shuttle, once aboard and away from this planet Bourne would feel far safer, though with Sol around he would nevertheless feel just as uneasy.

"In this place, I can manipulate only what I have already physically connected with."
The glass shard. So it had been moved ever so slightly to sever the creature's vitals.

As the two turned up an awkward spiral of stairs, Sol wondered if the monstrosity would have smashed the Mon-Keigh into mush had he not moved so swiftly.
He suppressed a feeling of amusement, remaining solemn about what had just occurred.
But it was there, the deep desire to ...

They came suddenly to a large door above them, an over-sized set of trap-doors.
Solat'suith gestured at them, looking at Bourne. "Shall we?"

[Iron Aquilifer]

A noise was heard from Commissar Terrela's earpiece for a moment before a voice was heard by her. It was a clear frequency and the words were not interrupted by any distortion. The Armsman gave her no enjoyable news: the Elysian had woken up, nearly killed an orderly and was now on the run, armed and dangerous. She sighed. This was going to be a long day. The Commissar turned to Drake.

"I guess you heard that, Captain. I'll handle the patient, no need for you to deal with such a minor problem."

With that she was off, running down the hall towards the medical quarters. After several kilometers of walking, she met up with a group of Armsmen and ordered them to follow her and ready their weapons. Terrela would not take any chances with an experienced Elysian, no matter how weakened he was. She kept receiving updates on Uriel's movements with more crew members joining the hunt. Even if the Victrix was immense, the ship was heavily populated on the upper levels. Unless he somehow made his way to the lower levels, Uriel would not escape the Commissar.

The medical bay was a mess. The orderly still lay squirming on the floor with Stein over him. Broken equipment decorated the floor and walls as well. Some servitors were already working with cleaning and fixing what could be salvaged. Terrela simply noted the destruction and continued the hallway where the Elysian had fled. Several dead and injured Armsmen lay along the way, completely ignored by the Commissar and her twenty men armed with lasguns and shotguns.

Finally they heard gunfire close to them. Terrela and the Armsmen checked their weapons one last time and prayed to the Emperor for protection before charging forward. There he was, armed in his combat gear and still on the run.

"Fire line, two rows!"

The soldiers took up their positions next to the Commissar who held her sword high in the air. The first row took a knee while the second row stood up. They had trained many times to quickly execute her orders in battle.

"Ready! Aim! Fire!"

The power sword swung down and the rows lit up like a line of light. Shotgun shells and lasgun fire flew through the air towards Uriel, as well as bolt rounds from the Commissar's firearm.

A bolt round clipped Uriel's shoulder, sending him spinning to the ground. Instinctively he pulled the trigger of the shotgun, sending the last shot back towards the offending foes.

Aren't they Imperials? He asked the angel. Am I not an Imperial?

The angel replied with sadness. He told of how no one else could understand what the Elysian's duty was. He had been selected by the Emperor himself for this task.

Grinning at the responsibility, Uriel let the shotgun go, though the action didn't seem to have come from him. With no sign of damage, the soldier scrambled on hands and feet towards a small opening in the corridor's wall. He was certain it had been a locked access shaft, but he paid it no mind: the angel was the voice of the Emperor, and he commanded it.

Once inside, the small entrance slammed shut, without any interference from the solider. He did not stop to catch his breath, nor to check any wounds. The angel said there was no time. The 'closed minds' would try and stop him doing his duty again.

However, as Uriel pulled himself out of the exit a few dozen metres ahead, he asked himself why the angel had returned now. Why had the long-lost influence decided that he had purpose again?

The thought was replaced with a hundred details of the vast room he had entered, all catwalks and containers and unarmed crewmembers.

Laspistol in hand, he clattered forward.

[Ace_General]

A bolt round clipped Uriel's shoulder, sending him spinning to the ground. Instinctively he pulled the trigger of the shotgun, sending the last shot back towards the offending foes.

Aren't they Imperials? He asked the angel. Am I not an Imperial?

The angel replied with sadness. He told of how no one else could understand what the Elysian's duty was. He had been selected by the Emperor himself for this task.

Grinning at the responsibility, Uriel let the shotgun go, though the action didn't seem to have come from him. With no sign of damage, the soldier scrambled on hands and feet towards a small opening in the corridor's wall. He was certain it had been a locked access shaft, but he paid it no mind: the angel was the voice of the Emperor, and he commanded it.

Once inside, the small entrance slammed shut, without any interference from the solider. He did not stop to catch his breath, nor to check any wounds. The angel said there was no time. The 'closed minds' would try and stop him doing his duty again.

However, as Uriel pulled himself out of the exit a few dozen metres ahead, he asked himself why the angel had returned now. Why had the long-lost influence decided that he had purpose again?

The thought was replaced with a hundred details of the vast room he had entered, all catwalks and containers and unarmed crewmembers.

Laspistol in hand, he clattered forward.

Buck runs up to the access entrance and shouts

Breaching charges, then frag and flash bangs.

On my mark lads


Buck waits 5 seconds for the charge to be applied and folds the stock of his submachinegun and waits for the men to take cover and shouts

MARK!!!

The access door is blown away, and the grenades are thrown in and go off, then buck charges through the opening and shouts.

In the name of His Holy Fleet!!!

OOC: theres many ways to suppress a hallway, bouncing shot of the ceiling, grenades, blind firing with the guns held overhead, one side sticking to one side of the corridor and the other moving at a crouch, charging to contact with bayonets fixed while firing on full auto for suppression(pretty much the only time full auto is useful)

[McScottish]

Buck runs up to the access entrance and shouts

Breaching charges, then frag and flash bangs.

On my mark lads


Buck waits 5 seconds for the charge to be applied and folds the stock of his submachinegun and waits for the men to take cover and shouts

MARK!!!

The access door is blown away, and the grenades are thrown in and go off, then buck charges through the opening and shouts.

In the name of His Holy Fleet!!!

OOC: theres many ways to suppress a hallway, bouncing shot of the ceiling, grenades, blind firing with the guns held overhead, one side sticking to one side of the corridor and the other moving at a crouch, charging to contact with bayonets fixed while firing on full auto for suppression(pretty much the only time full auto is useful)

OOC: Firstly, I asked you not to post OOC here again. Secondly, there's no reason at all for any of Drakes Armsmen to listen to Hightower, none at all. I'll allow you to have blown a hole in the damn wall, but you do anything...anything...like that again, and Hightower is going to have an 'accident'.

[Jokern]

Three men were injured from Uriel's last shot before he disappeared into the side corridor and the door slammed shut. The Armsmen stopped firing. The Commissar could not remember what room that was, the ship was so vast she barely had seen a tenth of it. Just as Terrela would give the order of advancing, Hightower rushed forward, screaming out commands to her men, who naturally waited by her, and blowing away the door with a grenade for some bloody reason she could not fathom. She was the second-in-command, she could access most parts of the Victrix which made the excess violence unnecessary. Terrela's fuse was just about burnt up. She had calmly ignored Hightower running after her even though he was supposed to go with Drake as well as his 'tactical advice' which questioned her authority, a death sentence. But now he tried to lead her men, even though he was just some lowly mercenary who Drake just recruited. That was the last straw for the Commissar.


"Miles, Fodher, stop Hightower now!"


Before Hightower could run into the breack were the two Armsmen rushing forward to tackle him down, with Terrela advancing at a walking pace with the other men. She was furious and everyone knew it even though it could not be seen through her mask. Hightower had been an annoying fly since the moment he stepped off the shuttle. Would Drake be that angry if she had him executed?

[Iron Aquilifer]

The woman was small, barely reaching his chest. She didn't notice the charging soldier until it was too late. He delivered a savage punch which crunched bone and bent armour. As she fell, Uriel paused to slam his boot down on her throat.

The angel smiled at the sight, but it only made Uriel sick. She was faithful, in her own way.

Taking in a deep wiff of the scent, Uriel set off again, weaving in between towering metal boxes, searching for something specific. Something very specific.

[Tim1988]

Gav reached Logan's door with Drake. The noises coming from inside the room sent shivers down his spine and he wished he was sat in the cockpit of a plane, rather than on the ground like some damn infantry grunt. Still, needs must.

"What in the name of the Emperor, is going on in there?" he muttered, seemingly aiming the question at the Trader, whereas in reality, it was more said to himself.

His grip on his laspistol tightened and he checked the safety was off for the hundredth time. He reached down to his belt and drew his combat knife with his spare hand. It had been years since he'd had to use the thing and it felt almost alien in his hand, but it was better than nothing atleast.

In the distance, shots could be heard, followed by what sounded like a small explosion echoing down the metal corridors. Clearly the Commissar was getting down to work.

[Ace_General]

Three men were injured from Uriel's last shot before he disappeared into the side corridor and the door slammed shut. The Armsmen stopped firing. The Commissar could not remember what room that was, the ship was so vast she barely had seen a tenth of it. Just as Terrela would give the order of advancing, Hightower rushed forward, screaming out commands to her men, who naturally waited by her, and blowing away the door with a grenade for some bloody reason she could not fathom. She was the second-in-command, she could access most parts of the Victrix which made the excess violence unnecessary. Terrela's fuse was just about burnt up. She had calmly ignored Hightower running after her even though he was supposed to go with Drake as well as his 'tactical advice' which questioned her authority, a death sentence. But now he tried to lead her men, even though he was just some lowly mercenary who Drake just recruited. That was the last straw for the Commissar.


"Miles, Fodher, stop Hightower now!"


Before Hightower could run into the breack were the two Armsmen rushing forward to tackle him down, with Terrela advancing at a walking pace with the other men. She was furious and everyone knew it even though it could not be seen through her mask. Hightower had been an annoying fly since the moment he stepped off the shuttle. Would Drake be that angry if she had him executed?

Right before the two armsmen tackle him, buck sidesteps one of the men, thowing what was sorta a messy combination of a trip and low leg kick and the second man, buck grabs teh middle of his shotgun, still attached to the mans body, and his shoulder plate and more or less throws the second armsmen down on top of his comrade and turns to the commisar and says

Fine, do that mordian-Kriegian toy solider stuff. Its your men's blood after all, not mine.

Buck walks over to a turbo lift and transfers over to where drake is and walks up behind the fire team and says

Friendly comming up. Whats the situation

[McScottish]

It was unfortunate for Hightower that he had chosen that exact time to appear, every member of the group around Logan's door being completely on-edge. This was certainly no time to go shouting things, and it would prove to be more than just to the detriment of the loud-mouthed Naval Officer, it would prove to be his doom.

Before he could finish his warning it was already too late, the trigger-happy Armsmen opening up on him with a salvo that would have taken down a much bigger creature, even an Ork. Hightower was shredded by shotgun rounds, solid-ammunition and heated laser rounds that punctured through his unarmoured areas, as well as blowing off the top of his head.

Drake tried to stop them, tried to silence their guns and their heated emotions, but for the high Hightower it was already far past any chance of survival, his body hitting the floor with a load thud and his brain-matter and blood seeping out from the innumerable wounds.

"Feth..." was all Drake could say, calling for a clean-up team, knowing that there would be time to mourn for his former comrade later- right now there were bigger problems, larger fish to fry, and if Terrela didn't catch Uriel then Drake feared there would be three deaths today instead of just two.





OOC: Ace, you're dead. Please do not post on this thread again, or in the OOC thread either, as I will ask mods to simply delete the messages. You have broken any number of rules any number of times, after a multitude of chances, and this was the final straw. Been good having you with us, but now it is time to part. R.I.P Hightower.

As for everyone else, I'll get to Logan today or tomorrow, and I'm also going to time warp Bourne and Sol a wee bit...

Until then.

[Tim1988]

"Oh feth," Gav exclaimed as the carnage unfolded before his eyes. The day was really going downhill fast and he was beginning to worry that this whole voyage had been cursed from the start, or worse, they were all being played as pawns by chaos.

"Where is the damn arbites? Let's just get this overwith already before anything else happens."

[Jokern]

With Hightower finally gone, Terrela and 15 Armsmen charged into the opening while the rest stayed to take care of the wounded. The giant room was a maze of crates and catwalks, with no sight of the fleeing Elysian. There was nothing else they could do but to split up into three groups and move on through different paths.

Terrela and the five others quickly moved from corner to corner, searching through every nook and crany on the way. It was not surprising if Uriel got away and found a good hiding spot on the frigate; there were some parts of the Victrix that had been unused, sealed or forgotten for thousands of years. If they lost him now, only the Emperor could find him. The Commissar gritted her teeth at the thought as she started to run faster, power sword raised high.

The crew working in the area were not of much help, even after she threatened them at gunpoint. Somehow the Elysian had disappeared, though it was no surprise considering the size of the room. There were probably thousands of workers on the lowest floor alone, even more if you counted the ones on the upper catwalks. It was easy to blend as long as you looked human. Maybe they would never find Uriel. But once they did, what would she do? Terrela had shot at him, but that had been in furious anger after seeing the dead Armsmen. In a more calmer state, Terrela considered catching the Elysian and bringing him to Drake and Stein. One way or another, they would find out what in the Emperor's name was going on.

She shook her head and moved on, more slowly now, cover to cover. Maybe an ambush was waiting for them. Like she would let herself get caught offguard again.

[Iron Aquilifer]

The sight brought a tear to his eye. It wasn't a pretty sight. It was not some sort of master-crafted relic. It was a rare sight. It was more a legend spun by those who knew nothing of technology.

Before he could say anything, the angel answered with a pointing finger. It wanted him to have it. Years of disciplined servitude told him not to argue. He would do as the Emperor wished. It did not matter what any other thought.

Tenderly, as if he had all the time in the world, Uriel removed his armour, placing it in a half-organised pile at his feet. He was eventually naked, bruised with splatters of dried blood covering his shoulders. Taking a deep breath, savouring the purity of the scene in an uncharacteristic moment of self-worth.

Perhaps angered at his lack of urgency, the angel gestured again, insistant. Bowing to the inevitable, the Elysian clambered on to the padded chair, easing himself in to the grooves. The seat had already been set to his specifications, years before.

With not audible command, the chair hummed in to life. It shook slightly as the needles sprang out of their casings. Dozens of metallic limbs lurched towards the till frame of the soldier. Reassured by the angel's silent presence, Uriel barely reacted to the pinpricks of the syringes. They stabbed in to his body with quick, efficient jabs.

The dark fluid oozed in to his veins without resistance, the tiny bots activating at the contact with his blood. The feeling was strange, like a sudden warmth spreading through his veins. He almost asked what was happening, but decided not the break the silence. The warm feeling stopped in his veins, and then started in various points of his body.

In bone, organs and brain, the tiny bots started to work. Depositing their resources, the workers began to build their alien devices. The feeling became painful near the end, but Uriel merely grimaced, unwilling to show the angel weakness.

Once it was done, Uriel was put to sleep. The new augmentations, wholly alien in design and nature, needed time to fuse completely with the human guinea pig.

[McScottish]

"In this place, I can manipulate only what I have already physically connected with."
The glass shard. So it had been moved ever so slightly to sever the creature's vitals.

As the two turned up an awkward spiral of stairs, Sol wondered if the monstrosity would have smashed the Mon-Keigh into mush had he not moved so swiftly.
He suppressed a feeling of amusement, remaining solemn about what had just occurred.
But it was there, the deep desire to ...

They came suddenly to a large door above them, an over-sized set of trap-doors.
Solat'suith gestured at them, looking at Bourne. "Shall we?"

Just going to time-warp this ahead methinks...

The prow of the Victrix appeared not far from that of the shuttle, both vessels nearing one another, and soon both Bourne and Sol would be aboard and relativley more safer than they had been on Footfall. Yet Bourne was distracted- distracted by what had happened, and by the pointy-earred passenger that sat uncomfortably nearby.

"Tell me," he managed to ask as he piloted the shuttle ever onward, "what was that thing in the sewers? To me it looked like a Daemon...but was that really all it was?"

Something about the way that the Eldar had seemed to recognise it still niggled at him, a mere Human with limited experience when it came to things of the Immaterium; he had fought Orks, Tyranids and Eldar, but he had been fortunate enough never to have come to grips with the denizens of the Eye or their masters. Curiousity however was a prime Human trait, and although it could get you killed more often than not, Bourne felt he had to ask.

"Oh feth," Gav exclaimed as the carnage unfolded before his eyes. The day was really going downhill fast and he was beginning to worry that this whole voyage had been cursed from the start, or worse, they were all being played as pawns by chaos.

"Where is the damn arbites? Let's just get this overwith already before anything else happens."

"It appears that we shall have to engage now, without the assistance of our officer of the Law," admitted the Trader in a most disgruntled tone, the help of Durante and his training well needed for what was to come, "prepare yourself and keep your weapon at the ready..."

With surprising speed for someone who commonly moved with deliberate slowness, Drake punched his override card into the door-reader and levelled his Hellpistol before him, like some form of sacred shield that he inwardly prayed would protect him from whatever lurked in the interior.

Then the doors opened with a screech of tortured metal...

Within the confines of the cabin the lights flickered- the furniture of the interior torn apart by something with claws -and if Logan had been in there, one would have to squint to see him now; Drake moved forward slowly, cautiously, moving his weapon along with his body and head, the Armsmen imitating him in their own approach.

When they eventually did find Logan, or what had been Logan, Drake muttered an oath to the Emperor and took a calm aim at the thing that now inhabited Logans once young and vibrant form.

Purple-skinned, and with a bulbous head, his eyes like yellow pin-pricks in the dark and his teeth as sharp as razors, Logan had completed the cycle of a Genestealer hybrid. Four arms he had, two extra ones having sprouted from where his collarbone would have been, his form having grown in both height and broadness and the two extra arms ending in claws capable of ripping through Terminator power armour.

For the moment it was backed into a corner, hissing from between teeth and the fragments of what had once been Logans skull, those slivers of bone and brain matter now sloughing from its head, along with the rest of his body which dangled from the things exo-skeleton like a macabre coat of flesh.

"Fire now, and let the Emperor guide your hand." Ordered the Trader, squeezing down on his own trigger and smiling as the chainsword at his side was drawn out and roared into life.

[Dirty Chai]

Just going to time-warp this ahead methinks...

The prow of the Victrix appeared not far from that of the shuttle, both vessels nearing one another, and soon both Bourne and Sol would be aboard and relativley more safer than they had been on Footfall. Yet Bourne was distracted- distracted by what had happened, and by the pointy-earred passenger that sat uncomfortably nearby.

"Tell me," he managed to ask as he piloted the shuttle ever onward, "what was that thing in the sewers? To me it looked like a Daemon...but was that really all it was?"

Something about the way that the Eldar had seemed to recognise it still niggled at him, a mere Human with limited experience when it came to things of the Immaterium; he had fought Orks, Tyranids and Eldar, but he had been fortunate enough never to have come to grips with the denizens of the Eye or their masters. Curiousity however was a prime Human trait, and although it could get you killed more often than not, Bourne felt he had to ask.

"Daemon.. perhaps," answered the Ulthwean gently, ".. But not all abominations are creations of the Warp."
Sol left it there with that question, but if the Mon-Keigh wished to prod more, he would say more.

He sat to the right of Bourne, in what might be called a passenger seat;
His hands sat comfortably on his legs, and Sol made no twitches, no moves, nothing... completely calm.
The Eldar had a way of seeming in meditation without intending to.

The two xeno eyes blinked at the Victrix.
"Then this is your master's vessel? It is very tacky, serah."
Imperial Eagles and most symbols of the Mon-Keigh god made Sol sick. They were truly ugly to look at.