[System]
Tex's epic bad guys
Many details are withheld.
Age: 24

Gender: Male

Appearance: Medium build, wearing the common white marine uniform with a long 'justice' cape draped over his back. Rigid features, a wide nose, strong square jaw, thin Caucasian eyes, thin cheeks, medium neck width. Roughly 5'9'' tall, and weighs about 160 lbs.

Personality: Arrogant, self centered, and cowardly.

Name: Zilto Juma

Age: 23

Gender: Male

Appearance: Light build with very slender arms and legs. His facial features are sharp, and he has a long mane of beautiful blonde hair. He wears the standard navy uniform. Stands 5'8'' tall and only weighs about 130 lbs

Personality: Arrogant, a show off, easy to anger.

[User]
"Oh shoot." Abigail muttered after she accidentally locked Sophia into her room. "Sorry about that." She played with the idea of opening it but it was probably better if that was held off till they left. Even though she spared the marine there was no way to ensure with one hundred percent certainty that there wouldn't be a moment where a knife was suddenly sticking out of someone's back. She made a mental note to open the door before she left.

"Hey guys" the red pirate said, smiling wide and waving at both of them. "It's good to see neither of you are bags of gore. HOnestly, was a bit afraid that would be the case." She paused when a better look at Zypha was presented. "Well your almost there, but your intestines are still in your gut so that doesn't count." Another pause. "Your not going to collapse are you? If you need to sit down I'm sure there's time." A last and final pause. "Yep. It wasn't easy but I managed to luck my way out." She laughed.

"Asus." Abigail said as she just noticed there was a luck in his face. "Are you alright? You seem troubled. I hope facing off against someone like that didn't mess with you too badly" She put a reassuring hand on the man's shoulder. "This is the life we've chosen and sometimes we're not going to have any choice but to put someone down hard. Don't feel guilty, alright. You did what you had to do."

[Assistant]
Yami began to chase after Asus, but stopped short as he unleashed a flurry of wasps towards him in a last ditch effort to escape. They were spread out far too wide for him to use his saliva, or simply eat them. The turtle-man backed away slowly as they rushed him, and quickly fell onto his back, turning into a turtle once again, and withdrawing his limbs and head into his rock-hard shell. He waited until the swarm of intruders were just about to reach him, and began to rotate slowly...

"KAME~KAME~SHREDDER!"
Yami shouted loudly and picked up speed, spinning rapidly on the back of his shell as the bugs swarmed him. Each one was promptly dealt with as they collided with his rough exterior, ground into a goey paste, or violently blown away by the resulting wind that his spinning produced. When he was finished, the marine captain morphed back into his human form and rose to his feet, grinding his teeth angrily as Asus escaped. Yami ran after his promptly afterwards, only to witness that all three of the invading pirates were now grouped up, face to face with the marine leader.

"Eh? Where are Lenny and Sophia!? How did you shrimps- Gah!" Yami shouted, stomping his foot against the ground angrily. He cheek bones tensed and his eyes reddened, glazed over with a thin film of tears. "No! No no no! Pirate scum!!"

[User]
"Not sure what happened to Lenny but Sophia couldn't really fight any more." Abigail thought about drawing her sword, the hand was already on the handle, but there was just something unwholesome about readying a weapon in front of someone in tears. "Her armor is a pile of scraps and there's a debilitating wound on her arm. If it makes you feel any better it wasn't easy."

Abigail's eyes narrowed at the last enemy. "Your not going to go away are you?" The woman in red let out a slow breath then took a step forwards and then another but stopped there. "WEll then, if your set on this path I can't stop you." She drew her sword and started walking towards their last enemy, red electricity surged around her unarmed hand.

[Assistant]
Abigail tried to reassure Asus that everything was all right but the moment was rudely interrupted by the appearance of the marine captain. Zypha's bad vibes turned out to be there for good reason as the marine captain looked like he was about ready to ripe them apart in a rage. This also meant that Abigail's comfortings had absolutely no meaning at all.

This was a big complication, to put it mildly.

"He didn't put him down hard; he let him off easy!" Zypha shot a glare at Asus, quite displeased with what was happening. Now was not the time for reprimands however. "If you surrender now you might be able to save your officer's life. Needless to say even with medical treatment he won't be getting up anytime soon." She decided to offer up that line just in case, though considering how upset the captain was it was doubtful to work.

Zypha tried to position herself away from the others and Yami, so she could get a better vantage point. She was not in the best of condition at the moment so she would stay back until an opportunity presented itself. Until then she to give herself room to dodge and let Abigail, the most suited for combat against captain, fight for the moment.

[User] "As if I'd listen to the word of a pirate, much less accept their help! My comrades would rather die than accept helps from the likes of you!" Yami growled, falling forward, onto his hands and knees. He took note of Abigail's devil fruit, but didn't pay it much mind as he morphed back into his giant turtle form once again. "Stupid, stupid, stupid! You're all idiotic miscreants! I'll show you where you belong- In the ground!" Yami didn't waste time after he responded, immediately withdrawing into his shell in the blink of an eye, and rocking back onto the tail of his spine until he was balanced pefectly with his rock-hard under-belly facing Abigail and Co. "Kame~Kame Cow-Catcher!" He roared, suddenly tipping forward and launching towards Abigail, the top of his shell now threatening to crash into her with devastating effect.

[Assistant]
Rather than explain himself to the new pirate captain he decided to let Zypha experience just how tough Yami was thus how ineffective his hornets were. That didn't mean he was gonna sacrifice the remainder of his forces though so he ordered the ones that were blown away rather than killed to come back. Even though the majority apparently had survived he was still running low.

He watched the turtle-man attack Abi without any way for his hornets to interfere. Still he knew it was his fault she was in danger right now, so he tried to push her out of the way.

---

Total number of hornets in Asus' body is 100. Number of hornets used for combat 65, hornets currently in use 0/65, dead hornets 40/65

[User]
Abigail had seen sea turtles before. Normally they were cute little things that made her smile. This guy wasn't anything like them. Sure, he didn't look any different from the ones she normally saw, but because of its size, the malice in his eyes, and the fact he was rushing towards her like the a green half ball of death, there wasn't any feeling of affection. Which was good. It made the decision to blast him with a dendo-dendo snake that much easier. So she raised her hand and readied her attack, but didn't get the shot off before she saw Asus running towards her.

It wasn't expected, so Abigail panicked and discharged the energy she gathered up because if Asus touched her hand there was a good chance he'd be cooked. Then she felt his hands on her, shoving her away from the attack. "Wait." Was all she had time to say before Yami's massive shell took up the space they'd been standing on and she was flying backwards from being pushed out of the way. She hit her shoulder, and came up after a quick roll.

"Damn it!" She shouted. AT some point during the attack the sword was knocked out of her hand. She didn't see it so that meant she had to move to plan B and to do that she had to have a plan B. "What to do? What to do?" Red electricity start flickering around her hands. "Meh. Guess there's not much else I can do." She raised her open palm and pointed it at the enemy. "Dendo-Dendo Snake." An arch of red lightning left her hand, rushing towards the turtle like a snake after a mouse.

[Assistant]
Zypha watched as Yami turned into his Turtle form and launched himself at the group. Thankfully Zypha was more than prepared and easily got out of the way but her crewmates were not quite as lucky. Abigail lost her sword and Asus had put himself in harm's way but there was nothing that she could do at the moment but observe.

Yami was a Zoan fruit user, which meant he was no doubt quite strong and resilient because of his animal. Her scythe would just bounce off of the shell and probably damage the blades so there was little point in attacking, yet. She needed an opening if she was going to do any good. The only other thing she could try was to be a distraction, but in her current state that would prove quite dangerous, so for now she waited.

"You light-weight! How about manning up and come out of your lame shell!"

[User]
Yami slid across the ground, crashing into Asus as he pushed Abigail out of harms way, and stopping hard on his two front feet. When his body came to a stop, his head poked out and his back feet fell down, slamming against the ground. Abigail's Dendo-Dendo snake struck the back of his shell immediately afterwards, but given his excessive size, and the limited conductivity of his shell, it barely stung the entirety of Yami's back upon hitting him. He jumped and spun around in midair after getting struck, and coughed up a glob of his acidic saliva, sending it towards Abigail. A peculiar ability for a Zoan-user, turtles didn't have acidic saliva, so why was it so dangerous? It didn't really matter, and Yami wasn't about to stop and explain it. Yami grinned and turned his sights to Asus, who'd been far close than Abigail. He pulled his front feet and head back into his shell, using his back feet as an axis to hammer his entire shell into Asus from above.

"Kame~Kame Protractor!"

[Assistant]
"Why didn't that do more?" The corner of Abigail's eye twitched as she watched the electrical attack hit its mark like Robin Hood's arrow going through the firs arrow waiting at the center of the target. It was a bigger target so not as impressive but the point was the hit was full on. Yet, the creature before her didn't seem to have been hurt in the slightest. There wasn't any time to stand there and wonder about it, because something was coming out of the creature's mouth and heading right towards her. It was liquid and she had the nearly unshakable feeling it wasn't water. The color kind of gave it away, and the smell. Questions forgotten she leaped out of the way of the fluid it so it impacted harmlessly on the ground where she'd just been standing.

Frowning, she quickly dusted herself up and turned back to look at the ground and the sizzling chemicals on the ground. Her face twisted around as if someone just shoved a lemon covered in salt between her lips. "Oh. God I hope that's not stomach acid and the guy's attacking us with foodless vomit." She grimaced further at the idea and was unable to keep herself from shuddering. "Whatever it is, its disgusting."

"Well, if I can't cook him into turtle stew maybe I can cut him up." Her blade appeared in her hand. "Maybe I can cut him up?" Sword in hands she rushed forwards with the intention of jamming her blade into one of the holes used for Yami's limbs to stick out.

[User]
Zypha watched from afar feeling a bit useless at the moment. His shell was obviously too hard and thick for her to break through and Yami only liked to pop out his limbs when he needed them meaning that very few soft bits were available to cut open. If there was one thing Zypha was though, it was observant.

While she had yet to find an obvious weakness there was something, odd about how he fought. There were few animals that had acidic spit, and as far as she knew no Turtle had such an ability, which meant there was a good chance that whatever that spawn of the Devil's Curry was, it was man made. Now, he did spit it out so somehow he was mixing something inside his mouth most likely. This was all a hypothesis of course but while Abigail decided to confront the beast, Zypha decided to investigate some of the acid left over on the ground from his attack.

Walking over to it she studied the substance and decided to see if maybe, just maybe it was flammable. Taking her scythe she traced the blades around the small pool, careful not to touch it, but close enough so that sparks would dance around the acid. If the acid caught on fire, there was a good chance they would be able to use it to their advantage.

If not, she would just have to continue to observe and wait for the next chance to strike.

[Assistant]
Yami ultimately smashed the bottom of his shell against the fallen Asus with enough strength to crush his entire upper body, including his skull. Three pirates dead now, with only two more to go. This is what came to stubborn rookies that couldn't accept their place in the world. This is what happened to amateurs! Perhaps it was Yami taking too much pride in his kill that distracted him, or maybe the force of his Kame~kame protractor stopped him from dodging. Whatever it was, he felt something slice into his left, front foot as he emerged from his shell. Abigail struck his tough skin, ripping a small cut in his limb before he lashed out with his head to try and bite her leg in return with his strong jaw.

Meanwhile, Zypha's attempt to light his spit on fire was a failure. It seemed that his ability was inherent, but the acid wasn't eating through the ground very well at all.


[System]
Age: 17

Race: Werewolf

Background: Born to an incredibly poor family on the outskirts of Rezion, May spent the majority of her youth either foraging for food on the streets, working as a bar maid in the Barrel's edge, or spending time at the local library. She was an only child, and both her and her parents were homeless. Supporting the family was her major concern, and on several nights, she slept in the public library in order to avoid the streets.

While she originally only visited for a roof over her head, May quickly became enamored with both the library, and the old man who acted as the librarian. He was crotchety, rough - almost abrasive. But despite his rude words, he did care for those around him. He only complained slightly whenever she slept in the old building, only shaking her awake if he cooked a meal for her. Eventually, May even began an education - the older man taught her to read, always was ready to help. In return, May was always willing to help restock books, and made herself useful. The man even snuck her a book on basic magical theory for her birthday. The pair had spent time together for years and May, once a poor street girl, was steadily learning healing magic and had a decent career planned as a doctor.

The librarian, the man responsible for this, died peacefully in his sleep. He passed due to an illness, easily treatable with a good elixir. In his will, he left the library, and all of it's contents, to May - the girl who treasured it the most.

With a place for her and her parents to live in, May grew to idolize wealth. Had she possessed enough wealth, perhaps she could have saved the man that saved her and her family. She quickly turned this idolization into an obsession - she wished to have more money than anyone, enough to buy anything she could ever need or want. To this end, she elected to join the Isis familia - while not the strongest or wealthiest, it matched her talents the best. And people were always willing to pay for their life.

Personality: May is an incredibly kind girl who was raised in circumstances that demanded toughness. As such, she is usually one of the kindest people around - she is polite, always offers support, and refuses to hurt people. This changes drastically whenever money is involved.

When she thinks she has the chance to make quick cash, May uses dirty tactics, blackmail, and is perfectly fine with charging for her healing services. While this will never happen in the tower, she is a nightmare to split loot with. This behavior is not present when dealing with people who are poor or do not have any money, and May actively tries to improve the conditions of these people.

Familia: Isis

Alias/Title: None

Level: 1

Valis(Currency): 5,000

Equipment:
-Iron Dagger
-Leather armor
-Item bag(small)
-2 Potions

Abilities(Stats)
HP: 500 score MP: 200
-Strength: 20, Rank: I
-Endurance: 25, Rank: I
-Dexterity: 10, Rank: I
-Agility: 15, Rank: I
-Magic: 20, Rank: I

Special Racial Trait: Beastification
Allows the beast human to unleash their wild instincts and power. The trigger for werewolves is a full moon.

Unique Spell: Purification
A general-purpose healing spell that provides a moderate heal and cures minor statuses like weak poisons and paralysis. 20 Mana, 2 sentences.

Development Abilities: None

Skills: None

[User]
K U R V I A
* HP: 235 / 300
* MP: 215 / 250
* Strength: 15, Rank: I
* Endurance: 15, Rank: I
* Dexterity: 25, Rank: I
* Agility: 20, Rank: I
* Magic: 25, Rank: I

Via looked rather content with her quick work with the goblins, though frowned when she felt blood drop from her cheek. She didn't even feel it, unlike her injury from earlier which was worse. She spun her katana in her hand and watched as Amrec finished up with the last of the uninjured goblins.

Her gaze went to the ones who recovered from her attack earlier. Even if she aimed to kill them in one swift move, it didn't seem like that would happen. Shame really. She was ready to attack when she heard two heavy thumps on the ground. Amrec had discarded his weaponry and decided that fighting barehanded would be enough to dispatch these goblins.

Well, the goblins were sluggish in movement and Amrec's hard hits put them down all too quickly. She seemed to attract three goblins to her and they began scrambling towards her. While she would have wanted to seem more badass and let her weapon drop to the ground, she was not nearly as powerful as Amrec so no use doing that.

She moved to slash at the goblins but also making sure to keep herself open to dodging their attacks. They were slower, so she'd rather not get needlessly injured because of carelessness.

[Assistant]
Renji Altha

HP: 455/500. score MP: 135/150
-Strength: 30, Rank: I
-Endurance 25, Rank: I
-Dexterity: 10, Rank: I
-Agility: 35(Base 20), Rank: I
-Magic: 15, Rank: I
-Magic Resistance: -10%

"You should really learn when to quit." Renji laughed as the two he knocked down approached him, "I'm dropping you guys like flies!" With a tight spin, he stepped fluidly over to the pair of goblins and laughed a flurry of blows into one of their chest before spinning again and letting the back of his fist connect with the other's face. He continued the spin, widening the movement so he turned neatly to the side of the goblins as he launched another flurry of blows into them.

[User]
Hp:200
MP:320

Strength: 10, Rank: I
* Endurance: 10, Rank: I
* Dexterity: 20, Rank: I
* Agility: 20, Rank: I
* Magic: 40, Rank: I

"I think I may need that dagger after all. To be safe you know?" just as soon as the danger seemed over two more kobolds came rushing towards the pair. Magi attempted to dodge the couple, aiming at the legs of the closest Kobold and blasting it with a burst of electricity in the Hope's to either make it trip or kill it all together.Soon after his first shot Magi attempted to get in between the second Kobold and Misha, pressing his palm against the Kobolds sternum and allowing his magic to flow through him and into the chest cavity of the Kobold. "Just die already."

[Assistant]
Klou Renfar
HP: 345
MP: 100
-Strength: 25, Rank: I
-Endurance: 20, Rank: I
-Dexterity: 15, Rank: I
-Agility: 30, Rank: I
-Magic: 10, Rank: I

Klou sputtered a cough as she fell to the floor, trying to pull in as much air as she could. Blearily, her gaze wandered up to the retreating skeleton, then past it to see May clutching her dagger.

"No!" she coughed, pushing herself to her feet and steadying herself. She wouldn't let this thing hurt anybody else, not while she still lived. Taking a moment to orient herself, Klou backed up a few paces, then crouched down and coiled her legs, pushing forward and up as she leaped into the air. Raising both fists above her head, she brought them down together on the already weakened skull of her foe, aiming to completely shatter it with one blow. She put all of her strength into the hit, not thinking of defense or even landing afterward. If she didn't end it here, it was almost certain she wouldn't get another chance like this. Sending her heart out in a wordless prayer to Isis, she closed her eyes at the moment of impact and let herself fall.

[User]
HP: 300 / 300
MP: 180 / 200
Strength: 15, Rank: I
Endurance: 15, Rank: I
Dexterity: 25, Rank: I
Agility: 25, Rank: I
Magic: 20, Rank: I

Perfect... and then there was one.

Noctis thought to himself as his second green-fleshed assailant disintegrated, leaving not more than another gleaming nugget of his victory. This was it, he was really doing it! He'd never felt more alive than he had now, and the completion of his first victory was at hand. Just one more Goblin and his first battle would be won. Not to mention that the monster was still under the effects of Doom Call, in essence, Noctis had already won.

Flashing a grin back to the still observing Winter Maiden before turning towards the last foe of this batch, before darting towards it and exclaiming. "Checkmate!" The werewolf swung both of his blades across the monster's chest before bringing them down just above the goblin's collarbones on either side of its bright green head.

[Assistant]
May
HP: 429/500
MP: 200
-Strength: 20, Rank: I
-Endurance: 25, Rank: I
-Dexterity: 10, Rank: I
-Agility: 15, Rank: I
-Magic: 20, Rank: I

May quickly struck the skeleton several times in the head, the dagger making a rather poor bashing weapon compared to the other options... The futility of the slashing weapon made her regret only bringing a single weapon with her. After the second or third hit, the skeleton's screaming rose in volume, and cracks rapidly began to splinter from the center. She would have even seen the chip fall from the skull, had the skeleton not knocked her feet away in a single hit.

The blow landed May on the ground prone, and the air in her lungs was completely gone, leaving her gasping for air as she rose to her feet. The skeleton itself was slowly dragging itself towards her, in the same unbecoming speed that it had when it approached the pair earlier. May held her dagger in front of her, her attempting to assert some sort of defense against the skeleton's surprising strength.

Until Klou immediately attempted to bash the creature's skull in, her fists smashing into the skeleton's skull with heavy force


[System]
Chapter: Angels of Absolution

Chapter Demeanour: The Angels of Absolution are basically Dark Angels that do not believe that the elimination of all Fallen is necessary to receive the Emperor's forgiveness. They believe they have already been absolved through their subsequent service or are no longer associated with those that betrayed their primarch, Lion El'Johnson, long ago. Hence, they do not consider themselves "Unforgiven," and may not necessarily leave a mission to go after the Fallen if the opportunity arises. Punishing all traitors is of course, still a priority, but these guys have put their personal fears of shame aside for the good of the Imperium.

Often, The Angels of Absolution have worked alongside the Dark Angels, Deathwing and Ravenwing, although there may occasionally have been some friction due to their opposing ideologies. They only partially follow the Codex Astartes. Some may believe the Emperor will judge their souls in the afterlife and therefore see him as divine, while others leave such speculation to those who need it. Honor and atonement are heavy personal themes for these Astartes, and redemption and forgiveness are seen as possible to attain.

Angels of Absolution wiki

Personal Demeanour: Aldaric is very pragmatic. Like most space marines, he is focused on war, which demands a high degree of self control. He is loyal, obedient, courageous, and everything else you would expect for a honed warrior in the Emperor's legions, but he is also an individual. He is less likely to get involved in petty arguments over spirituality or government and more likely to be forgiving of the details as long as there is no disloyalty. He firmly believes that it is important to focus on the present, that honor is a continual act at each moment, despite the mistakes of the past. In battle, he is of the mind that the Emperor wants you alive and fighting, not sacrificed upon the alter of vain glory. He tends to pull others together with comradery and leadership. He would likely be the one to stop his own advance in order to help keep a brother alive and firing.

As far as xenos go, Aldaric bears true hatred against only one, the Tyranids. Other than that, he simply believes in human superiority and right to dominate. Killing xenos is no problem, but killing human traitors is a sad thing indeed.

Speciality: He's a good melee fighter, but probably not best placed at the very front line due to his inclination toward assisting others, directing attacks, and being unusually aware of the tides of battle on the field in general. He has natural qualities of leadership and awareness, which become suppressed when fully devoted to face-to-face combat.

Rank: Recruited as tactical marine.

Power Armour History: Mark VII Aquila/Imperator armor that had been painted white previously. Unknown know who may have worn it before. It's been kept in repair and there are some runes etched on the inside of the breastplate that supposedly confer protection.

Description: Aldaric looks pretty decent, aside for one bionic eye. His left eye is blue, and he has light colored skin and somewhat long, thick silver hair. He looks about 40 to 45 in age, pretty standard for being hundreds of years old. A scar over the right eye suggests what might have happened to it in the past.

Skills: Being a tactical marine, Aldaric is proficient with a wide range of weapons. He's more than decent with range weapons and prefers them since their use usually allows a wider field of vision. His excellent awareness skill has saved him and those close to him many times. Aldaric is literate, and he has unique familiarity with fighting Tyranid among other foes.

History: Aldaric was recruited from a deathworld that basically had dragons on it. Human populations had to band together and work with each other to defend themselves against the great beasts. Among them, young Aldaric was a knight who's duty it was to hunt and slay the enemy. Driven with lethal rage, he organized a small band to avenge a devastating attack on his home city that had resulted in the death of his entire family. He was the last man standing with the pelt of the black dragon, Felblaze, in his hand when a representative of the Dark Angels revealed himself. Aldaric had been judged worthy of the opportunity to fight and defend more people, to be part of a new family, and with nothing left to hold him back, he accepted. Aldaric forwent his former family name and changed it to Felbane, as a threat to all the new dragons he would slay.

Having survived the training and transformation into a space marine, Aldaric spent several centuries in service of the Emperor and mankind. Most recently, he fought in the Third Tyrannic War on Tarsis Ultra against the Hive Fleet Leviathan alongside Ultramarines, Mortifactors, several other chapters, and a Deathwatch kill team. Very many lives were lost, but the contingent was vital in stopping about half the Leviathon fleet from advancing into the Milky Way.

The reasons why Aldaric Felbane was tithed to the Deathwatch are unknown, but being one of the few to survive at Tarsis Ultra was probably a factor. His long years of experience and success in the Angels of Absolution had risen him to company master. His loss will be felt.

Being so selected is not seen so much an honor to the Dark Angels subchapters as it is a cause for grief and foreboding. Aldaric doesn't understand the basis for Imperial militaristic machinations, but he obeys, holding to the promise that he is needed to prevent the death of mankind.

Equipment and Armament: Stalker Pattern Bolter, powersword, grenades.

[User]
Draksal spent the last of his time in a briefing with a Techmarine of the Chamber Ferrum about the maintenance of his Bionics once he left the chapter. This boiled down to a rapid instruction on how to deal with either tech-priests or Techmarines from other chapters for the acquisition of replacement parts and materials. In particular it stressed to never mention or get involved in a discussion about the Moirae Schism when speaking with them. This along with the transfer of a few slightly more sensitive data-files concerning the maintenance and construction of his Bionics that the Techmarine thought prudent for his survival, were all there was time for before he departed, offering a prayer to the Omnissiah and the machine spirit of the stasis tube for his safe arrival before dreamless sleep enveloped him.

He awoke in indeterminate time later and used the 15 minutes to run diagnostics on his system to ensure they were not damaged by the trip, review the data he had received about the death watch in general and run a mental exercise program that involved sorting falling tetrominoes, with the aim of creating a horizontal line of ten units without gaps, which would then vanish. All this was done by having the various programs/data be superimposed on the optical information he received from his Bionic eyes and controlling them with micro movements of his Little finger.

Finally the greeting party arrived. Draksal eyed the Black shield with curiosity, what crime had they committed that they had been forsaken by their chapter, yet not so great that they had been allowed to survive? As a son of Medusa his chapters origin was in a way like that of a black shield, exiled from their parent chapter due to internal conflict they had proven themselves loyal and capable members of the Imperium. He had of course not been there at the time, but he felt it prudent to give this sorrow the benefit of the doubt for the time being, they were clearly not weak and still loyal to the Imperium if they had made it here alive on their own.

Perhaps the vast metalwork that marked him out from the others had allowed him to come to his senses faster for he was the first to respond in a flat semi-electronic voice.

"I am Draksal Corbite of the Sons of Medusa. I must commend the Silver Skulls actions at the Gildar Rift against the traitorous Red Corsairs"

The grinding of his clenched metal fist the only indication of the burning hatred he held for the former Astral Claws, his voice still monotone as he continued.

"It is satisfactory to know that one from that chapter will be leading us"

He paused for a moment then added.

"May I ask when we will be reunited with our equipment, I wish to confirm mine has survived the journey intact."

[Assistant]
Victar Ironmarch

Before departing Arlockus

Victar sat alone at the rendezvous point on his homeworld. The Harbingers homeworld. It was here, on the windswept stone and steel that an Ork horde had shattered at their hands. It was on this holy place that Victar had become a monster in his own right. From this back water planet had sprung a beast obsessed with eradicating the green skinned menace with a passion that often bordered on madness. Even now, on the upswing from that fateful time lost to the history books, Victars hand still trembled in rage as he watched his brothers in arms die.
The rock he had been idly holding crumbled under the crushing force of his clenched fingers.

The black ship would be here soon to take him for the last Chapter he would ever know. The Chaplain had personally told him of what awaited his future and it had brought a measure of fervor back to his soul. Their numbers decimated, the Harbingers had been more cautious in their wars over the years. Aiding the larger Chapters rather than leading the charge. It had dampened his spirits, if he was perfectly honest.

Resting at his feet was the Storm Shield he had carried into battle a hundred times. It was a totem of his strength and determination to fight and die with absolute honor. A new addition had been added now, as he waited. A power sword Victar had since started referring to as his Chapter. To him, even if he joined the Death Watch, the sword would always be the Harbinger. It would always lead the way, to announce the enemies fate in the form of its wielder.

Victar gripped the hilt of his blade and waited as patiently as he could.

Fort Acestes

Stripped of his weapons and most of his armor, Victar had willingly gone into stasis with the others, and allowed the momentary 'sleep' to claim him. Though unaware of the passage of time it was still reasonable to say that claiming each member here in the gathering had not been a fast accomplishment. Time was not important anyways and thus the subject of 'when' was replaced by 'where'.
Even that really had no meaning to him though. The realization that time had passed had the eager Space Marine itching for a fight and his sword. Thankfully it was another such Marine that spoke the same thought aloud first. Might as well be heard.

"Victar Ironmarch, of the Harbingers. Sir!" Saluting as he spoke. "I don't mean disrespect, but I too wish to retrieve my gear for inspection. There is an item among my belongings of utmost importance."

At the here and now it was the only thought occupying his mind. Without sword or shield, without the will of his brothers in hand, Victar was hesitant to admit he felt more naked without it than he did stripped of his armor.

[User]
The Repentant strike cruiser of the Angels of Absolution fell through space with all due haste toward the outskirts of the Eye of Terror. One of the Imperial worlds in this unfortunate region of the galaxy had sent out a distress call. The wasn't an unusual event, for the Black Legion often threatened this zone. Several space marine chapters gave the routine response of a shift in their forces, redirecting ships to where they were needed, but it would be time yet before The Repentent arrived. It was going to be delayed.

Word had been received from the chapter master that the Deathwatch would be claiming their chosen from the Angels of Absolution from aboard this very ship. Previously unannounced, the blackship belonging to the Deathwatch had just arrived. Both The Repentent and the blackship synchronized their flightpaths for boarding.

Curious who it might be, Aldaric and the rest of the vetran and elite Angels gathered in their grand council hall aboard the strike cruiser for the brief and efficient ceremony. They all knew each other well.

"Duty to the Deathwatch is duty equally important as any other, if not moreso. 'Tis a great honor, and nothing less, to join their ranks..."

Aldaric listened in silence as orator tried his best to emphasize the nobility in joining the Deathwatch. But the fact was, they would be loosing someone this day, someone valuable, to an Ordo Militant created by the mortals of the Inquisition out of fear of some alien-originating and impending Armageddon. Whoever it was, that brother would never be seen again, never again be loyal to the causes of their chapter's glory, their primarch, or hunting the Fallen. As much as protecting humanity and defending the Imperium was the ultimate and mutual goal, to the Dark Angels and their subchapters, sacrificing one of their own's identity and fealty felt like a betrayal.

"...3rd company master, Aldaric Felbane."

Aldaric didn't move a muscle. Those next to him began to back away, clearing the path. They looked at him, saluted, brought up their fists... but there was no cheer. This was a death.

Aldaric walked forward, obedient to the last.

----------------------------------------------------------

The pod containing the collected from the Angels of Absolution was righted and opened up. A moment passed, then the space marine inside violently reached up with a grasping hand, fingers curling around the throat of some dreamed beast directly in front of the opened capsule. Aldaric then relaxed, quickly getting it together as he fully came to consciousness. He stepped out of the capsule, naked, feeling the metal grating below him with his own feet. He saw the rest of the lineup beside him, a host of unrecognized faces, and he recalled events before his stasis sleep. His bionic eye gave him additional information on energy sources, heat, and distance to the very shadowed ceiling, then the Watch-Captain made his introduction, pointing out Sorrow.

Two other space marines gave their names, before attention fell on Aldaric. He answered flatly, "I am brother Aldaric Felbane, former Master of the Angels of Absolution 3rd company." He paused briefly, reflecting on the confidence of Drascal and Victar, then he looked to Captain Roa and without explanation added, "I am ready."

Standing naked on the grate without weapons or armor was undoubtedly a questionable state of readiness, yet this Aldaric was at attention. He seemed open to learning and ready to accept whatever training the Deathwatch might throw upon him.


[System]
Epithet: The Vulture
Age: 32
Height: 6'4"
Weight: 195 pounds
Boxing Reach: 84.5 in
Race: Human
Class: Warrior
Alignment: Chaotic Neutral

Weapons and Equipment- Two three kilo bearded sparth axes with snap button sheathes for fast access, weighted serrated knife with ten inch blade, blowgun and darts with inland taipan venom, teeny little leather pouches of spitting cobra venom, rubber soled boots with three eight inch steel claws on each foot, steel chestplate and spiked pauldrons, steel shinguards, underclothing made from dragonhide (like an extremely tough form of chainmail with no gaps), trained pet vulture acting as a spotter, black steel mask, fingerless iron gauntlets imbedded with bird skulls.

(The axe "Jancro", slang for Vulture in Jamaican)

(The axe "Hot Steppa", slang for Free Criminal)

Appearance- Zande is a tall, lean man whose musculature is best likened to that of a starved jaguar. The dense, tube-like muscles adorning his long arms and legs allow him to exude a great air of physical prowess despite his wiry look. Unwashed dreadlocks hang over lurid, amber eyes whilst high cheekbones accentuate his abnormal jaw muscles, the feral aspect pushed even further by his sharpened teeth. He often wears the skulls of recent victims upon his belt and is not often seen without his rubber padded, steel clawed boots and black steel tribal mask. A skull and crossbones is sewn upon his cloak.

Physical Abilities/Skills- Zande's untamed strength is far greater than his appearance would suggest, albeit reasonably less than that of a formidable professional weightlifter. His most impressive traits consist of his incredible biting and striking power. He hits like a lumberjack on PCP, and never neglects to train his jaws by chewing through blocks of wood and chunks of rubber, being capable of chomping through an unhusked coconut in seconds. As he was raised a jungle wildman, he can scurry up and down trees in the blink of an eye and move with a silent swiftness comparable to his native brethren.

Background~ In the darkest depths of a savage jungle wilderness, shrouded in dread Congo secrets beneath a sky of eternal blackness, there existed a tribe of maneaters. One would think that there would be no bottom amidst the depths of their depravity. Yet, a young boy native to this landscape of monsters found it. The word "bloodthirsty" is often thrown about. However, no other description of Zande holds so true. He was exiled from his village for exceptional reasons and became a freelance mercenary and bandit leader, feared across the land. He's a cannibal and a headhunter, who seeks to further his reputation by collecting the skulls of formidable opponents.

Looking out from the entrance to Zande's lair. The inside is remarkably large, yet with so little elbow room.

Theme Music-

[User]
Doctor
Was this guy serious? Zande was sprinting towards him, Ansgar had livened his pace accordingly. The sellsword withdrew his sword arm and pushed it against the back of his shield. Adding extra support to it as he made his next movement.

The moment that Zande's first axe met his shield he turned himself shoulder towards the incoming arm. He stepped forward and absolutely ruined his foe's swing, he put himself inside of the arm's swing. A swing this big takes a very long time to make its way through the full swing, it gave him more than enough time to answer his blow.

Zande's elbow would strike into his shoulder, his elbow would collide with the thickly padded armor and likely hurt a bit. The thing that would hurt more would be the fact that his axe would continue forward and down despite his arm reaching a stopping point. If he didn't let go of the axe, he would likely break his own arm.

Regardless of whether or not he let go of the axe, Ansgar would continue stepping forward into Zande. An elbow tackle to match Zande's sprint, since he wouldn't need as much speed as Zande was sprinting towards him. Without armor, Zande's chest was a huge weak spot. After the axe arm struck his shoulder, he would sharply raise his elbow upward and smash it into the berserker's sternum.

[Assistant]
Something was very, very wrong. At first it mightn't be apparent. Everything happens so fast when you're fighting for your life. Ansgar was a professional though. He'd probably figure it out, but likely too late. What was the problem?

Zande hadn't swung when he was supposed to. He had wound up, he had rushed in screaming, poised to attack... But he hadn't yet brought the axe down. Therein lay Zande's method. He used the threat of his fast approach, of his terrific offense to goad opponents into reacting hastily. First off came what Ansgar had probably expected. After the lead right axe clipped the shield and during Ansgar's attempt at an elbow, Zande dropped his weight so that the elbow would impact and skid across his thick chestplate instead of his solar plexus, right arm flexing up so that Jancro could guard his head and neck from spike or sword.

Chances are Ansgar was, at that moment, using his right leg to push forwards for maximum power delivery as pertaining to his elbow strike. Zande had more weight and much more momentum, as so Ansgar likely intended to use that leg as a kickstand to support the impact as well to stop the jungle man cold. That rear leg would probably be, at least briefly, locked straight as Ansgar pushed forwards. Zande was counting on it. The cannibal's long left leg swished out, heel plowing into the ground on Ansgar's right as Hot Steppa whipped in with an electric vibe of power at a low angle to just about take the knight's right leg off at the knee. Zande's dark features contorted into a rictus of capering ferocity as he surged into the blow, a loud groan of pure inflammatory emotion wheezing out from clenched jaws. So broad was the blade of the bearded axe that even if Ansgar had the last second foresight to try and bring his right knee up at the cost of his stability (resulting in him being bowled over by Zande's charge), he'd still be struck. His chainmail might prevent the leg from being fully severed, but it'd absolutely be rendered useless should the axe land, the kneecap thoroughly crushed and lacerated.

[User]
Doctor (I'm sorry for the wait. Work and stress has kept me away from this.)

Again, was this guy serious?

In fact, he'd managed to make this situation worse.

Ansgar was only going to disable the man and leave him to limp off in shame, but now he'd cut off his own arm.

How?

Well, Ansgar's elbow had struck the plate of his armor and pushed it off to the side. With his particular footing this was quite fortuitous, considering he had a very sturdy posture. Ansgar simply dragged his arm straight upwards and turned his wrist towards Zande's under-arm. Slashing upwards towards the flesh of his arm, considering he was swinging a massively heavy axe downwards towards his leg. It would be difficult for him to stop his arm.

Once his arm was sufficiently sliced, the axe would likely fall harmlessly from his hand. Directionally thrown by the force of his swing.

Oh, and about his other axe? As his right arm swung upwards, his left arm raised slightly. Pulling the shield up between himself and Zande's body. A cramped movement, considering they were already touching. Though not impossible.

[Assistant]
(No probs, take your time. In fact, I'm gonna try to make things more fun and interesting.)

There were many things Zande could have tried to evade the slash. He might have released his axe and snatched it up later, or perhaps he could have attempted to maneuver his right axe into the way of Ansgar's blade. As motherfucking if. This particular cannibal just didn't roll that way. Zande was without a doubt a glass cannon, lightly armored and made purely to dish it out. His offence was his defense. He'd been in many, many fights to the death, and more often than not he could bully his opponents around by way of intimidating them with his raw, rushing power and unpredictable timing. They rarely had the chance to attack back, because if they did they'd get creamed. But, that was because most of them were thinking about stopping the axe at the head, where all that deadly force was concentrated. Ansgar had just thrown Zande for a loop by actually standing his ground and attacking the vulnerable meat of Zande's arm instead of trying to block or avoid the axe. He was answering Zande's attack with an attack of his own, daring to trade blows with the monstrous tribesman who was largely inexperienced in dealing with men brave enough to take him head on.

But, Zande was a quick-witted and wily killer. He saw Ansgar's elbow flaring up and reacted almost instantly. He jerked his right axe up (not with much force due to his commitment to swinging the other axe) so that the bladed prongs would secure the shield's spike and nudge the man's arm back, to perhaps cause a delay and a shift in the sword swing as the shield arm bonked into the adjacent rising sword.

What was Zande's ultimate goal? Well, it wasn't really very ultimate. He just wanted a tiny moment to progress the swing a ways further so that when the axe left his hand, it would be chucked nearly point blank into Ansgar's knee. It would lack the full follow through of Zande's muscular power, but would still be easily enough to maim the knight and cripple that leg.
A trade off, Zande was seeking. An arm for a leg. Ansgar would have a definite advantage. He'd be wounded, but with no severed arteries. Zande on the other hand would have his brachial artery sliced open, and would have only about forty-five seconds before he became too weak from blood loss to fight. He'd pass out after a minute.

A likely result of the altercation would be Zande's weight and height toppling Ansgar over, with the savage scrabbling for a mount of top of the knight whilst bleeding like a pig. It'd be a simple contest, if this scenario happened. Last out for forty-five seconds against a one-armed Zande. How intense could forty-five seconds possibly get?

[User]
Unfortunately, his sword had successfully found providence in the underarm of the primitive. He hadn't particularly taken into account how crazy these tribal cultures can be, because the man had somehow managed to throw his axe midway through the swing. Normally not much of a problem, but this thing was tremendously heavy and it had been slingshotted straight towards Ansgar's right leg where it smashed in force against he side of his shin and continued forward.

In any situation with any normal weapon, this wouldn't be much a problem. Maybe a little bruise and maybe a little bleeding, but this axe weighed an inhuman amount. His shin cracked and buckled beneath the weight, as hid his leg. The bone split pretty cleanly and the man could no longer stop the advance of Zande.

However!

Ansgar was a trained professional who knew more about fighting than he did about having a normal life, his reaction was pretty fluid. His upper body twisted with the force of Zande's advance and he shoved his left elbow outwards and into the tribal's side. Almost resembling a clumsy judo throw before his weight could no longer be held by his broken leg. The pain was so intense in this moment his eyesight had washed red and his body had moved on its own. Hopefully Zande would be thrown a goodly distance away from his own momentum, but in the off chance he wasn't the pair would land facing eachother on their sides. Ansgar on his right and Zande on his left.

[Assistant]
Ansgar succeeded with his judo throw, but he couldn't have expected it to go smoothly where a wild black man was concerned. For Zande, this had been the first time he had ever been judo'd by someone smaller than him. For Ansgar, it'd probably be the first time an opponent had propelled a nasty gout of blood into his face. Zande flexed and rocked his wounded left arm at Ansgar's face as the clash took him up and over the knight, potentially drenching the man's eyes with red in more ways than one.

Were Ansgar to be temporarily blinded by the blood, he'd find himself quite dead not a second after hitting the ground across from the tribesman. It was a simple tactic, but simplicity is often the best weapon. Zande dropped his right axe when they toppled over each other, and Ansgar might have been too fogged up with the gooey bodily fluid to see the lunatic whip his weighted hunting knife out. Ten inches of viciously sharp serrated steel that would, if Zande had his way, be immediately thrust through Ansgar's visor and into his right eye socket after they landed, a skillful assault not of the sort to be disrupted by a lucky head tilt. Zande'd make sure to avoid the shield arm so that his aim stayed true, though of course that's easier said than done. If Ansgar pitched a fit in anticipation of getting stabbed in the frontal lobe, it'd take Zande considerably more time to line up his shot.


[System]
* 𝐀𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐬(𝐞𝐬):

	+ Scotty, Joker
	+ Eyeball, Kestrel, Weasel
	+ Scotch
* 𝐀𝐠𝐞:

	+ 27
* 𝐒𝐞𝐱:

	+ Male
* 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲:

	+ In a few words, Scott is smart, sociable, fearless, opportunistic, and perceptive. He is generally a more outgoing person among those who live in the zone. He's always trying to make a good first impression to those he meets; be it by helping them out a little bit, or just by cracking a joke, hence his nickname. The irony is his sense of humor is often hit or miss, his dark and dry sense of humor sometimes falling flat. Though he's not the most charismatic person on the planet, he is generally pleasant to talk to, and a smooth talker on top of that. He is known for taking advantage of any opportunities that may interest him, and he has a broad array of interests, both real and feigned.
* 𝐇𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲:

	+ Scott was born and raised in the suburbs of Colorado Springs. He was always a smart person, but also something of a troublemaker. School was always easy for him, but he had a habit of letting his grades slip for whatever reason; typically lack of doing homework or whatever.

	He was always looking for adventure, and was something of an adrenaline junkie. He would often search the city for abandoned buildings, wade through underground drainage systems, or try to scale tall buildings. Often times he would have to evade others, and only a few times was he ever actually caught. He managed to come up with a good story on the fly though, and usually simply got escorted away and let off with a warning. His parents, at one point, decided to try to restrict his movements on several occasions. Of course, this only made him want to do it more, without a care in the world for the possible consequences. It was convenient that Scott already had a thirst for adventure, even before the war happened. He was in 11th grade at the time, and as soon as he heard that nukes were flying, he immediately sought refuge underground. Thankfully, the US wasn't affected much, and he emerged some time later to find that the world seemingly hadn't ended.

	Of course, the zone hadn't gained it's popularity overnight, or else Scott would have ran straight there. Instead he joined the US Army to satiate his thirst for danger. He went on to graduate infantry training and was soon deployed to Iraq to fight in the Gulf War. By that point though, Desert Storm was winding down and Scott never actually saw much combat. Shortly after getting sent back home, he managed to be involved in a grenade mishap during a training exercise which resulted in moderately debilitating injuries to his leg. It was nothing some rehab couldn't fix, but with Scott's EAS date approaching, he decided to take a medical discharge and cash in on the benefits. It wasn't until then that rumors about the exclusion zones began to reach him. Naturally, his lust for adventure took over and, despite his injuries, decided to make plans to go in.

	His training and experience in urban exploration proved useful in smuggling himself and some weapons onto a cargo ship heading for Hamburg. Getting off, sneaking around port authorities and getting to the zone were easy tasks. The hard part was learning the harsh reality that, despite his training, he had never had to fight or kill another human being yet. Oddly enough, even when one had a gun pointed at his head, he found it difficult to pull the trigger when the tables were turned.
* 𝐖𝐞𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐧𝐬:

	+ Weapon 1: M4 w/ACOG
	+ Weapon 2: SIG P226
	+ Weapon 3: AK Bayonet

[User]
"Nice to meet you Amy, I'm Andrew. I don't have a nickname though, just Andrew. Now let's get you something to eat and drink, you look a little pale."
Andrew was about to get up and order some for her, when he remembered that he was in the middle of a conversation.
"I was just talking to Max here about finding someone who could help me out. When I get back, Max, I wanna know what you mean by you 'specialize in different products.'"

@TemplarKnight07It's intentional that I think Gideon is Max, by the way.

[Assistant]
Gideon looked back over at Max by the bar and at Andrew talking to him, himself still slightly speechless as he watched Andrew walk over to order from the actual Max. He'd have to clarify that sooner rather than later. In the meantime, he kept his expression neutral and thought briefly on Andrew's offer.

Normally Gideon didn't like partners, particularly inexperienced ones. Inexperienced people often could attract unwanted attention in The Zone, as Andrew was evidently showing just by his interactions in the bar here. On the other hand, there were practical benefits to having multiple backs, eyes, ears, sets of hands, and guns in various situations, regardless of experience. Plus, he could stand to make more profit just by showing this guy around and the ropes along with whatever Max had in mind so long as it didn't get them killed. Its not like he intended to go storm a bandit camp or ambush an armed convoy headed for The Ring or some other openly gung-ho shit anyway. He was here to make money, and avoid dying while doing it.

Amidst his thoughts, he politely acknowledged Amy at the table, leaning in to talk to her quietly.

"Greetings, people around here call me Owl, actually. Name's not Max either, I'll have to fill that in to our fellow when he gets back here, but pray don't tell him, there's a first lesson I can show him in it all by the end of this if we actually do agree on some sort of job and he hasn't figured it out."

Leaning back on to his stool, he discretely glanced over at where Andrew had walked over to, taking another sip of his pint. Max would get a chuckle out of this if when he found out, if it all worked as Gideon intended.

[User]
"Ah, I see..." Amelia replied, shifting her weight as she looked over at Andrew who was getting her something to drink as well as some food.

"Should I be careful around him?" she suddenly asked, leaning forward to close some distance between Owl and herself. She had somewhat of a concerned look on her face, but for good reason. Needless to say, she was a little bit suspicious of this Owl guy as well. Maybe Amelia was being overly cautious, but she certainly didn't have anything to lose by asking a couple of questions.

Unholy

[Assistant]
Gideon took his eyes off of Andrew and looked back over at Amy, calmly replying.

"Word to the wise from my experience is to fully trust nobody in The Zone. But he seems harmless enough, if a bit jumpy for whatever reason. That's his business, I certainly don't know anything about him."

Absently, he put his glass down besides him and scratched the back of his neck with his right hand, using his left to simply check that the stock of his shotgun was within reach before letting go and returning his hands to the table. It was a nervous reflex, he knew Max didn't tolerate shoot-outs nor did he intend to shoot anyone here, but it was a way of reassuring himself that he stuff was still where he left it and that he could draw something out quickly if need be.

[User]
Andrew had ordered himself a bit of Scotch. He was ready for that drink and wanted to save his alcohol for when he was on the go. He would order some food for Amy, but he didn't know what she liked. After placing his order he looked back at the table, seeing Amy leaning in to talk to Gideon and wondered if there was anything there. Was it a coincidence that Amy had dropped her bag on his lap? And that it was some sort of ruse to talk to Max? No, that would be stupid. Andrew was new in town and didn't know anybody. He shook the idea out of his mind and made his way back to the table.

If Amy, Gideon, or Max had watched him they might've noticed that Andrew was regaining some of his own composure, but he still looked a little wobbly. He was still in shock from his experience and was beginning to have second thoughts about being here. He had to keep telling himself that this was to help his business grow. If he were to attract the attention of any celebrities he'd need to do something that everyone else was too afraid to do. Besides, once he got his pictures he could leave. All Andrew needed to do was play tourist and learn the lay of the land.

With a slightly revived confidence, he returned to the table and sat back down. "The bartender told me that our food is almost ready, if you had ordered any."

[Assistant]
"Fair enough," Amelia casually replied, leaning to the side to put her bag down on the ground. Just then, she caught a quick glimpse of Owl's shotgun. She eyed the weapon for a brief moment before sitting back up again, displaying one hell of a poker face. Maybe she was getting good at hiding her emotions, or maybe she was so desensitized to guns at this point that the sight of one didn't phase her the least bit. She cast a glance at Andrew who was making his way back to the table.

"Where's my drink?" she joked with him as he sat down, honestly not in the mood for alcohol at the moment. For some reason, she had the feeling that she wasn't wanted at their table, despite the fact that she'd been invited to sit down. Maybe it was Andrew's tense body language that put her off, but if she indeed was in the way of the two men conducting business, then they wouldn't have been so welcoming to begin with.

[User]
Neasa had to stop and think about what he said. There was some merit to it. Some. "In a trading post, however, there are others there who might notice somebody with malicious intent. There are others who might be able to stop it before it happens. Here? You have no defenses. I could have stabbed you. Do you truly not care if you are killed in your sleep?"

She really had to stop caring; it wasn't her problem. But he was one of the few friendly faces she had met along the way. It was rather nice to just relax and talk to somebody. While she didn't put her gun away, she did let herself lean back against a wall. She wasn't sure she'd be able to get back up if she sat down.

As for her story, she shrugged her shoulders. "Had a dumb brother who decided to come here. Been trying to find him, but he's probably dead. Now I'm just sort of here. Name's Neasa by the way."

[Assistant]
Gideon nodded to Andrew.

"Very good."

Looking over at Amy as she posed her question, he reached into his coat and drew out his wallet. He took a 100 Mark note out and slid it over to her.

"Help yourself, on me."

Gideon then left the note in front of her and redirected his attention back at Andrew, his expression still neutral and keeping his body relaxed as he took his pint glass up again.

"So, you were saying?"

[User]
"Like I said, I wanna know what you meant when you said you 'specialized in different products'." he tried to act casual, as if he was among his own friends in a bar. He tried to hide his fear, but his voice shook a bit. He really just wanted to pretend that he was back home so that he didn't explode out of fear of being shot. Andrew was still scared that one of these people would get trigger happy and start shooting the place up like in one of those American westerns. "I'm not really looking for anything to buy, if that's what you mean. I'm looking for someone to help me not get shot or killed by one of those....mutants or whatever you call them."

Andrew's eyes began darting around the room in a paranoid frenzy. It was then that he realized almost everyone in the room was looking at them. It was then he realized yet another difference in this bar from others outside of the Zone. People here paid far more attention to body language and little scenes like the one he'd just been in. He'd have to be more careful in the future. He looked around the rest of the room, in the gaps between his conversation. There was a lone guard in the hallway that leads to the back rooms. At first, Andrew thought the guard might be of use if something were to start. Then he realized the guard was so bored that he was watching the TV, paying no attention to the events unfolding in the room. He supposed that the guard might just be there for show, a preventative measure if anything. After all, this guard would be outnumbered 40 to 1 if he were to actually try to stop a gunfight in the room. Andrew shivered at the thought, and pushed them to the back of his mind where he might forget them.

@TemplarKnight07@pugbutterPugbutter, our lovely GM, has informed me that he will have a GM post up tomorrow. I'm enjoying the RP so far fella (and girl ;P), hope you are too!

[Assistant]
"Well, it's nice to meet you, then," he replied. "Neasa, huh? Interesting name," he added. Did she really come here to try to find her brother? Not that it wasn't a noble cause, but it seemed like an awfully risky thing to do, even considering the circumstances. She must have really cared for him. Scott brought his hand up to his chin and rubbed his stubble. "Are you still looking for him? I may be of some help, if you're alright with that."

Scott gave her prior question some thought. He figured he had already assessed the risks and accepted them when he made his decision to enter the zone, but on the point of taking risks Scott realized something. This woman wasn't wearing a gas mask either, even before she saw him not wearing one. He had an excuse; he knew this house was mostly clear of any ambient contaminants, but how would she have known if she just got here? He cocked an eyebrow. Hypocrite. "Why aren't you wearing a mask? You only just came in here, how would you know it's safe?" he asked, knowingly, rhetorically, and matter-of-factly, flashing a sly smile.


[System]
ABSTRACT: Cocky Teen with a Perfect Memory and Way too much Energy

DETAIL: Born to an old family of Rune Mages, Vincent is the heir to the family's legacy. He grew up without a want for anything on the family estate. He was an only child and got all the affection from his parents and grandparents. Because of this he grew up believing that he was the best thing in the world. Very quickly he learned that he never forgot anything he saw or heard and decided to make us of this talent the best he could.

On his sixteenth birthday as per family tradition his father created a magic item for Vincent: a writing implement that can write on anything. His father then donated the item he received from his father as was family tradition for the use of those that need it. His father then told him that there were always those less fortunate than themselves and had a responsibility to help those that needed it. Vincent didn't say anything, but he felt like he only had a need to take care of himself and that others were totally able to take care of themselves. He began his training as a rune mage the next day.

He only halfheartedly committed himself to learning as he could passively pay attention and memorize. Even so he ended up discovering that the entire theory and practice behind rune magics were extraordinarily difficult. His father eventually realized Vincent's lack of spirit about learning rune magic and on the eve of his 17th birthday, Vincent was sent to the Wall in an attempt to awe the boy into a change of heart. Little did his father know that this would be the last time they'd see each other.

MAGICAL INVENTORY: Vincent has a few sigils properly memorized and a single magical item created through rune magic gifted to him by his father.

He knows a sigil that creates a cup of water if drawn on an object that could be used as a container for water.

He knows a sigil that tells true north when used.

He knows a sigil that can stop bleeding, but isn't strong enough to actually heal a wound. It needs to make contact with the injured part of the body at some point or it will not work.

The magical item is a stylus styled pen that draws out white ink and can be used on any object. This item holds a piece of Vincent's father's soul and is very dear to the young man. The ink glows in the dark. It is a pen however, therefor mistakes are very much permanent until the ink wears out.

[User]
After a few more minutes of running, Moth finally ran out of energy and slumped forward, hands on knees. A few people milled around him, either not noticing or not caring about the small young man covered in sweat and on the verge of blacking out. It was his first real field assignment with the partnership, and he had already screwed it up. He shuffled towards the nearest section of wall and fell backwards against it, sliding into a sitting position. His heart pounded in his ears. He gazed out towards the open expanse and it all came back to him. A torrent of birds rose from somewhere far away and scattered into the air. The clouds were already turning from pink and orange into a silky bluish white as the sun continued to rise over the opposite end of the Wall. It was still early in the morning and the tourists were scarce; moreso in an area so close to construction.

Moth tapped a keyboard and pulled up an image of his Sigil of Stamina. He concentrated, and tried his best to clear his mind, and hoped. Someday he would get there. Someday he would be sitting in one of those offices, numbers dancing in his head and the world displayed in formulas and graphs before him. Someday he would make partner. Cyan, Magenta, Yellow, Brown, and Piper, LLC. The Sigil glowed.

Moth took a deep breath and exhaled, shaking. The sweat cooled and his heart returned to almost a normal rhythm.

"All is not lost in this venture. I get at least two pretty sights today."

Directly across from him, a young couple with their backs to him flirted openly. A young woman nearby sniffled loudly as she looked out over the valley and clutched a book to her chest. Another woman stood nearby and snapped pictures. Not of the view, like he expected, but of people. Weird.

Aether"Relax boss lady, I'm sure by the time the inspector or whatever he is called arrives everything will be done."

Boss lady? Moth's spirits perked up.

"Um, excuse me. Are you in charge here?"
"You rang boss?"

A little girl who crinkled was tugging on a worker's sleeve. Another worker was trying to get her attention. Looking closer, Moth noticed several people surrounding her. He suddenly got the feeling of something just below the surface, like a large bubble in a pot of boiling water rising to the top. Or a bomb about to go off. Moth pulled his knees to his chest and subconsciously pressed himself against the wall.

[Assistant]
No sooner had Dazz put down the binoculars, a high-pitched screech rang out at the far side of the section. Old Borrick the bot mechanic sprang up, squealing like a stuck pig, dropped his toolkit and frantically wiped wet cement out of his mile-long beard. Crunk, the cement-mixer robot, had somehow got the bright idea to slop all that cement right into Borrick's lap. Borrick danced from one foot to the other, sloshing cement everywhere, while Crunk whirred happily.

Dazz sprinted to the scene, slammed Crunk's off switch, and while the robot powered down she whirled on the rest of the builders with death-laser eyes. It only took a glance to know the one face that was missing was the guilty party.

"ETHAN MORRFIELD!" she roared like a tiger. The inspection was destroyed, the murder investigator just got a new reason to be suspicious, and one of her builders had up and gone missing. "This has your name all over it. ETHAN! Git your ass out here!"

She felt a tap on her shoulder, and Ethan barely managed to get a few words out before Dazz slammed the barrel of her stun-gun back into his gut and gave him enough of a jolt to send him sprawling. Dazz stood rigid for awhile, without even looking back at him. Finally she holstered the stun-gun and dropped a hard hat on Ethan's face. "Git back to work," she said icily to the rest of the builders.

The doors of the visitors' elevator whizzed and clacked open, letting out the newest batch of gawk-eyed city folk. Fortunately, they were a bit too far off to have heard much of the commotion, and the tour guide was showing them the view in the opposite direction -- couldn't have the visitors getting stuck in Ethan's cement-mess, after all -- but they were another factor in the already complicated wreck of a day. Especially the ones that hung around too close to the build site, skipping the tour to watch the sunrise, apparently. The city folk held the sun and the sky much dearer than the builders ever did.

Elliana was one of those tourists, transfixed by that sun, for a minute not so nervous or timid -- that is, until Florence took a fall from up high on the building beams and landed right smack on his back just behind her. He looked dead, for a minute -- anyone would've had a concussion and a few broken bones from that tumble -- but just when she might start to call for help, Florence gave her a fright and leaped with his power boots back up to the build site, laughing, not a scratch on him.

The laugh was short-lived, though. Dazz was waiting for him, a cold grin on her face, and she shoved the handle of a shovel at his chest. "And you can clean up Ethan's cement mess," she told him pleasantly. "After you apologize to that girl."

She turned her head slightly, glancing sidewise at the reporter behind a clicking camera. "Reina, is there really nothing more interesting going on today besides a cement spill and a dumbass prank?" Dazz heard the telltale groan of a cable trolley opening up down the wall, and her ever-observant eyes caught sight of Otto -- a hunched old man with an identifying black satchel and a very purposeful business to attend to. Dazz's mouth twitched. "Hey Reina," she said to the photographer, sidling closer to speak confidentially. She gestured with a thumb at Otto, who was below them and a little distance away. "See that guy? If he talks to you or asks to see any pictures, I'd appreciate it if you came up with an excuse not to, right? I'll owe you lunch."

In the background, Borrick the mechanic was still sobbing hysterically over his cement-covered beard.

"Borrick yer gonna be fine!" Dazz hollered. "Florence is gonna help you get that all cleaned up. Right Florence?" Borrick wailed in despair. Dazz winced, but was finally distracted by the sound of crackling and a tap on her shoulder. Dazz steeled herself, balling a fist in preparation to give Ethan a good slug to the jaw, but her eyes opened in surprise to find a small girl in a huge jacket filled with something that smelled and sounded delicious. Dazz tipped her head, relaxed, and spoke with an honest smile. "I'm Dazz, and I'm absolutely in charge here," she told Maria. "But this is a dangerous zone, what're you doing up here?" She produced a hard hat from behind her back and dropped it onto Maria's head.

Chigger the robot whirred back around with another trayful of glasses of water. It stopped beside Maria and held the tray up to her, then scrambled across to where Emmitt was drawing chalk lines between the rivets -- obviously one of the most dedicated workers on the wall. The robot stopped beside him and very intently offered him a glass of water, beeping and whistling encouragingly. When Liam -- the only builder Dazz always referred to as competent -- approached to offer his generous help with the endlessly crooked rivets, Chigger raised the tray of water glasses to him, too, then scurried away with a pat on the head to retrieve more water. At least one little oasis in this chaos remained peaceful.

Dazz's pocket alarm began blaring music -- a popular song by the city-famous Gypsy K.O. -- and she growled as she yanked out the offending device and turned it off. Was that expenditures meeting today? "Shit." This was the absolute worst time for a meeting about the money, especially when they were running so enormously over-budget. Dazz glanced back at Otto the inspector, saw that he had taken a break to puff on a wood pipe, and decided this was her only opportunity to get the accountant out of the way as quickly as possible. She gave Maria another smile. "Hold that thought, I got an auditor to get rid of. Here, Reina can help you out. She knows about as much as I do at this point, anyway." Dazz tapped Maria toward Reina and rushed to the meeting, already making plans to get him to go away.

A few of the visitors had stayed behind from the tour, and instead were milling about near the elevators. The timid Elliana stood against the outer wall, still recovering from Florence's bad taste in pranks. Katrina, whom Dazz vaguely recognized as an accomplished bio-mechanic, exchanged cigarettes and conversation with the young and rich Vincent, whose silent butler pretended to be more interested in the sunrise. And then, there was a geeky, lanky kid in a sweat-stained suit, curled up against the barrier, staring at a calculator screen.

Dazz removed her hard-hat and approached skeptically. She gave Moth's shoe a light kick to get his attention; he seemed to be preoccupied with his own nerves. "You that accountant from the . . . color-wheel firm?" Seemed a bit young to be doing such important work, but maybe that would work in her favor. Dazz gestured with her head back toward the building block. "C'mon, then. Get this over with, right?"

Down in the city, the big screen at the city square popped into existence, and the queen's smiling face appeared there, tall as a building and radiant as the rising sun. Good morning, good morning! her voice chirped throughout the city -- loud enough for the echo of it to reach the top of the wall, but not so loud as to be disturbing. It's a gorgeous morning, isn't it? The clouds are in all sorts of funny shapes today! I'm especially looking forward to the cake festival today on Jiminy Street. I heard Lee Loo will be doing a live sigil-baking demonstration, and Gypsy K.O. might be performing! And good luck to those of you participating in the hovercrate races! I'm rooting for each and every one of you!

Thunder rumbled in the distance, though the sky was bright.

Electricity sparked behind the clouds over the diamond mine.

I hope you have an exceptional day --

The feed suddenly cut out, and the screen disappeared.

Moments passed, and the day was just as normal as it ever was; the city carried on with its morning. Probably just a glitch in the system.

[User]
Vincent put the cigarette back into his mouth as he took his time to think up an answer. Kat hadn't asked him what lesson he was getting up here, not the one that Father intended. He felt pretty good about himself right now. He got her to blush, that he was certain although she tried to hide it. He actually began to wonder what exactly was it that he was learning here. Personally he thought that it was crazy to be building a wall up this high. The Grit hadn't attacked in forever. Sure there were sightings, but at this point he began to wonder if they were myths or fantasy. Maybe there were some horror story made to get fearful children into line.

Ultimately, he didn't see the point in constructing a wall out of paranoia and fear. His father apparently worked with the Queen because of family history and the fact that Rune Mages were so rare, and Vincent thought of her only as crazy for wasting the resources on the wall that she did. The paranoia and desperation was what would get Periphery destroyed not the Grit. Of course Father would explain that this wall was built for the people, but Vincent didn't care.

He cleared his throat and pulled the cigarette from his mouth to speak again. "I don't exactly know what lesson I'm looking to learn here. That's a good question though." He waved a finger in Kat's direction playfully. "So, what are you up here for? Seemed like some friends were messaging you earlier." He pointed that finger at the tech-specs. He slipped that hand back into his pocket and looked Kat in the eyes to hear her answer.

Vincent frowned as this distraction interrupted his conversation. Even though this happened every day, he never once enjoyed the daily morning announcements. He thought that they were crazy and a waste of time. The rumbling sound was confusing as hell especially when the feed cut out completely. He had a bad feeling about this.


[System]
Rank (If applicable): Unggoy Ultra

Species: Unggoy

Appearance: Grikgar
Grik stands 5'8" a little taller than the average Unggoy and weighs 275 lbs. he has a bit more muscle mass packed onto him than others. Wearing the typical white combat harness with the unusual forked tank signifying his rise through the ranks of special operations. Normally he will always be wearing his helmet as it does have a built in speaker so others can hear him better.

Skills: Given his advanced training, Grik is an Explosives and Artillery Expert both with human and covenant ordnance but prefers covenant. He even has an exceptional understanding with disarming explosives and is a great linguist. Being able to understand all of the covenant languages as well as speak most. Even going as far to learn a few human languages and Huragok sign language. Aside from that Grik is a natural born climber and is adept at repairing most equipment.

Preferred Weapons/Equipment:
Main Weapon - T-58 LAAW, Fuel Rod Cannon
Secondary Weapons - Dual T-54D DEP, Plasma Pistol's
Back Up weapon - ODST Combat Knife
Primary Explosives - 4x Type-1 Antipersonnel grenade, Plasma Grenade
Secondary Explosives - 4x Covenant Plasma Charge.
Equipment - Unggoy Ultra Combat Harness with helmet, Active Camouflage, Light Personal Shield (Experimental).

Background: Grikgar was picked up at a young age and put straight into military service. Born on high charity in 2545 he almost immediately was put in a leadership position due to him not fleeing from combat during training like many others of his kind. This trait was picked up on by the Sangheili that were training his batch of hatching's. Because of his unwillingness to flee and being rather fascinated with all things that went Boom, he was given additional training. Unggoy don't have last names or at least didn't in the covenant, instead he took the last name from the ship he was tasked out to, Seeker.

The Seeker of Truth or just "the Seeker" is a CAS-class assault carrier and flagship for the Fleet of Particular Justice. To him it was an honorable position one he took great pride in. he soon found himself in multiple conflicts through multiple worlds in their purge of the humans. Showing again and again how well he could use his skills as an effective Unggoy leader verses small groups of armed humans military or otherwise.

With a rather high success rate and low mortality rate for his squads he was yet again promoted and given more training. Grik would use what free time he had to talk and learn from the other races that would listen to him, even going as far as learning human languages to better understand their music he enjoyed so much. Soon he found himself receiving training to join up with the special operations Unggoy only a few months before the Fleet would hit their next target, Reach.

The battle for Reach was long and bloody the casualty rate for his squad was rather high giving him the chance for promotions. In return he was able to show his superiors his ability with the fuel rod cannon and the explosives training he received to great effect. Being able to take out emplacements and fortified structures with well-placed shots and explosives with little oversight or orders to do so. Showing once again his fearlessness and proficiency with artillery weapons.

After the battle of reach and his continued service aboard "The Seeker" led him to the most glorious moment of his short life. The ability to gaze upon instillation 04. He didn't see much combat wise during that fight, his team always seemed to be sent to retrieve something but never really engaged in combat other than against the sentinels of the ring. His team was still on "The Seeker of Truth" when the ship master ordered the retreat from the ring and subsequently survived the destruction of the ring, only hearing rumors of monsters and demons from the badly shaken crew members that returned.

Grikgar returned with the ship to High Charity and his team was ultimately transferred to "The Reverence" a CPV-class heavy destroyer. The Unggoy participated in many smaller strike missions aboard the destroyer. Then everything began to change, political upheaval and a civil war that spanned the entire covenant. After that some of the Sangheili that he had fought alongside in many battles had been killed, he joined alongside them to fight with them.

After the end of the war Grikgar was tired, he was almost ten years old now. Most Unggoy would barely make it past their 5th birthday. Still, it would seem that his dedication and loyalty would pay off in the end. The new hierarchy of the swords of Sanghelios hand picked him among only a handful of other Unggoy to receive the rank of Ultra with one Unggoy by the name of Stolt given the rank of Ranger and put in command of Sangheili Rangers. Grikgar is unsure why he was given this rank and why he was eventually sent to a human / covenant team. Politics was never his strong suit, he's just doing what he is told.

[User]
Vael 'Virisusai

---

Vael heeded the advice of the others. A sudden shift in the storm could easily worsen their situation, so they needed to act quickly. "Come, follow quickly. There are some rocks closer, at the base of the ridge, we may use for cover." He ordered.

Visibility was particularly terrible, but a combination of sensors and multiple perspectives from the team did reveal some about the area ahead as they moved down the ridge. Obviously, the most prominent feature was the anti-air cannon itself. The weapon was massive, as it had to be powerful enough to be able to damage capital ships. Given the rough, uneven terrain of the mountains, it was placed on a large, artificial platform. They could also make out multiple structures on the platform as well, in which most of the guards were likely taking shelter from the storm. If, for any reason, they ended up alerting the enemy, it was from there that they would need to expect reinforcements.

Currently, there were only a few hostiles out patrolling on the platform. All seemed to be Unggoy that were unlucky enough to be burdened with the duty in the storm, and even they were trying to take cover as best as they could against the winds. The storm certainly would impact their perception, but unfortunately, it also meant that they would be more alert than they might have otherwise been, if only for the fact that they could not sleep if they wanted to. The winds and rain would severely limit the effectiveness of active camouflage, so it would not be effortless to walk past them unseen. There were only a sparse few objects surrounding the cannon at the moment. Anything not secured to the platform had likely been moved inside before the storm. For the most part, it was an open, flat area.

"We must decide how to sabotage the weapon. Anything we do cannot be detected before it is time for the attack on the Keep. Your…engineer can do this, yes?" Vael said, glancing down to Flint. "Or we can simply plant a powerful enough remote explosive, if we can place it somewhere it will not be seen."

[Assistant]
Grikgar /Grik/ Seeker
// Unggoy Ultra // Demolitions and Artillery // Location: the climb

The climb up out of the cave and to the top of the ridge was difficult even for him. His species had natural enhancements that helped them climb but even climbing up this he could feel his methane tank catching the gusts of wind with its bulk and pulling him off balance occasionally. When finally at the top he made sure to stay low with a hand running along the stone next to him so he had something to grab on to if he was caught in another gust. At least now that they were getting closer they could see their massive objective a bit closer now.

Speaking his opinion over comms as they continued their approach, "If we are not concerned about keeping the gun mostly intact to use after this engagement. Grik believes he has enough explosives combined with the remaining magazines for his gun to destroy the platform supports or its foundations to topple the gun." He couldn't tell if the platform had supports but it was likely given the terrain being uneven. Even the subtle erosion from fresh drilling and stormy weather could assist with this plan.

[User]
Shih and Vael 'Virisusai

---

It took only an instant from the others' perspectives, but Shih ran as thorough of an analysis as she could on the practicality of sabotaging the platform from below. The others hardly had time to consider the suggestion before she started giving her report. "The storm is giving too much interference to my sensors for me to give a definitive answer. Whether or not an explosion of that yield could sufficiently destabilize the platform would depend on how well it is anchored. It is possible, and would certainly deal significant damage to the platform in any case, but it is possible that the cannon may remain operational."

"So we could not simply place an explosive and leave. We would need to remain to ensure the cannon is disabled, and to kill any survivors." Vael remarked.

"Yes, and I can jam their communications if it comes to that. As long as you leave no survivors, the Keep will not be alerted." Shih added.

It seemed they did have options. Attempting stealth could allow them to silently achieve their objective without a firefight, but it was risky. Discovery would place their infiltrators in an exposed position, and they would have to fight the enemy at full strength. Opening with an explosive, even if it did not destroy the platform entirely, would still likely kill some, and disorient the rest. But, they would be guaranteed to have to fight here.

"Spartan Ryker, your Forerunner sensors would make you the best suited to try to silently get close. Active camouflage will be useless in this storm, and the platform has little cover. I am not convinced that a silent approach would be best here; Grikgar's plan may be more likely to work. But, I would hear your assessment first. Vael requested. Compared to any other Human, Ryker would know best what Vael was asking for here. Unlike many other Sangheili, Vael cared little for pride when it came to strategy. He wanted to know, objectively, if Ryker believed his infiltration in this situation would be more likely to succeed than the alternative.

[Assistant]
Spartan Lucas Ryker

Recognizing what it was that Commander Vael was asking of him, Lucas sighed quietly and looked up towards the cannon, swapping modules over to the Promethean Vision and seeing what he could see, which was more than he would have admittedly given it credit for, as only heat signatures seemed to register, but even with that...We'd still need to get up the rock face, get Grikgar and his explosives in place... His brain continued to go over the details of what they would have to do in either situation and, while it couldn't do it as fast as Shih could, still came to a conclusion fairly quickly.

"They're both uncertain and come with unique dangers and challenges. Mine comes from the fact that I'll be alone, Grik's has a chance of just not working like we need. So speaking objectively...I have to say stealth over chance. I've been in and out of plenty of Covenant installations, even before I was a Spartan. This? Nothing new. My concern is we know these guys are allied with the Prometheans, won't they have access to the Promethean tech as well?"

[User]
Yalu 'Suumko

"We put the gun on a sudden lean, everything tips over," Yalu thought out loud. He held out his rifle horizontally in both hands, looking at it as he tilted the barrel end down. "What remains on the higher end, with their feet set to EVA combat, may fire stably down upon a stricken foe which wants for cover. A victory as swift as gravity."

The suggestion had holes, Yalu knew. He was jogging tactical considerations as much as hoping such an approach might allow for a survivor or two, albeit alone in the jungle.

[Assistant]
While listening to the others discuss options, Tar sniffed the air and looked around. A tingle ran all the way down her arms and into her chest, taking cues from atmospheric pressure. Thinking back to when she was last here, Tar finally understood what was coming. "A rolling bank approaches… I say we use speed over stealth; take those buildings to shelter if it passes over."

She scraped a couple of steps forward and looked through her carbine's scope just as the rapidly darkening sky suddenly lit up like daylight for a split-second. Tar studied the platform, looking for any signs they had been spotted. After a few seconds, a deafening boom washed over the mountainside they were on. The sky lit up again, and Tar growled. "We're exposed - whatever we do, we have to do it quickly!" The Commando looked over at the squad leader.

[User]
Vael 'Virisusai

---

Vael heard and considered the advice of the members of his team. They all had their own expertise, and he could benefit from making use of it. Still, though they had a few options, a decision still needed to be made, especially when there was no clear "best" choice. "We cannot carry out our ambush and attempt stealth. An infiltrator would be in range of the explosives, if discovered. An ambush is the safer course. Most of their warriors will likely be in those structures on the east side of the platform. There are no guards underneath the platform, so Grikgar, you should be able to plant the charges on the supports underneath them."

Pausing a moment, Vael started designating positions on the team's collective HUDs. "As Yalu suggests, we shall take positions on what will become the high ground. This ridgeline here will give a strong position for most of us. Aviza, Ryker, Yalu, take a position on the western ridge to create a crossfire. When the charges detonate, the Unggoy outside will most likely panic, so they will not be our priority. We will instead focus our fire on the exits to the structures to cut down the rest as they try to reach safety."

[Assistant]
Grikgar /Grik/ Seeker
// Unggoy Ultra // Demolitions and Artillery // Location: setting up for the big boom

Grik nodded in agreement with Vael's decision and began to get his gear situated. Turning off his shield and camo he looked to the leader. "Ok Grik will move to the position and plant the explosives. It might take Grik a little while, might have to crawl or climb over the edge momentarily depends on cover." Turning for a moment to survey the land in front of them that he could see to plan his course accordingly. "If there is nothing else, Grik will head out now while the storm is still providing cover."

The grunt sounded excited to go and blow something up. He was well aware of what he needed to do and how to do it. His low sturdy frame making the strong winds less effective against him and would help to blind the grunts on patrol if they didn't have goggles. The rocky sometimes steep terrain was well suited to his climbing ability. All he had to do was stay low and slow but still move with purpose to lay the explosives and start their assault. With the rest of his ammunition and his proximity to the structure when he arrived Grik decided that he would take a flanking position on the opposite side of the structure after the explosives were set and open fire after the others start to. Giving them a false sense of a larger force and to give them nowhere to hide.