[System]
ABSTRACT: Sweethearted aristocrat-to-be (unless she has anything to say about it).

DETAIL: Maria was born to a pair of middle-class citizens who run a candy shop on the banks of the Seventh River, with their apartment on the second floor. Growing up, she learned how to make her own sweets, and even helped out in the shop from time to time. Every night, she would lie on her bed and look outside at the Wall, and try to see what had been added on since the last night. Eventually, the people she saw began to take on lives of their own in her head, and she started imagining what their lives were like, up there in the clouds, looking down at the rest of them, who surely seemed so tiny amidst the great wide majesty of the sky and the lands beyond the Wall. Unfortunately, her parents' candy shop began to go into decline, and her father, with nowhere else to go, beseeched an influential billionaire for his help. He gave it, but under one condition; that he take Maria as a wife. Naturally, this did not appeal at all to Maria or her parents, so they accepted his aid, then had Maria flee onto the Wall. She came equipped with as much candy and as many clothes as she could pack, a pad of paper and a pencil (for her sigil), and mixed emotions; she was finally going to be able to work on the Wall and see beyond it, like she'd always dreamed, but she was also being pursued by a ruthless billionaire who wanted her for a wife. Nonetheless, she won't let that dampen her good spirits, and greets everyone with a sunny smile and a piece of homemade candy.

MAGICAL INVENTORY: Maria has one sigil, which she memorized just before she left for the Wall. It turns whatever it's written on into what's essentially a mine, but instead of exploding, it emits a great burst of air, enough to propel someone several steps back or into the air briefly. Normally, this only acts as a distraction while Maria legs it, but up on the Wall, one wrong step can mean your doom.

THEME: Unidentified Flavorful Object

[User]
A rumble, a rattle and a scrabble resounded down the stairs within the wall. The lights flickered and went dark on the stairwell; they flashed and shattered in the armory. Everything went dark save the light of the open door. Growls, snarls, chitters and yips closed in on the darkness in the hall. Their eyes gleamed.

The robot sharpshooter blasted his way through the wall of fur and scales, and its lightbulb eyes glared at Liam and Vincent. "Go! I'll shut it behind you."

It was time to make their escape.

art by Vadim Shchepilov

To step through the liquid silver portal was like passing through a beaded doorway -- and on the other side, their feet met etched stone and sand. They stood in a vast cavern, sharp with stalagmites and stalactites, weedy vines and hooded mushrooms, illuminated by glowing crystals embedded in the rock and hovering, magnetized, between the sharp points.

Behind them was only more sand and rock, and under their feet was a flat stone that had been etched long ago with a receiving sigil; the portal, it seemed, only worked one way.

The hiss and clank of machinery resounded behind them, around the bend of solid rock. After a few moments, a young woman sprinted out from behind the rock and rushed toward them; she was dressed all in pale violet, her crown shimmered in the light of the stones, and her gray hair was spun delicately just as it had been that morning. Behind the queen, two enchanted robots followed her quick pace, their gun-arms held at ready, as if they expected the grit might have discovered the portal.

With wet eyes, the queen rushed directly at Moth and Kat, flung her arms about their necks and pulled them into an awkward embrace. She was smaller than she appeared on the screen over the city; her head barely reached Moth's shoulders.

"You have no idea how happy I am to see living faces," she said quickly, stepping back and grasping Kat's hand.

Then Vincent seemed to step out of thin air onto the engraved sigil, and the queen very nearly attacked him from behind for the sake of a hug, as if to reassure herself that he was flesh and blood.

Liam stepped onto the sigil, and the queen stopped short before touching him. "Oh, gods. You need medical attention." She looked up to her robot escorts and motioned in the air; a tall, red-plated robot jogged forward. The queen smiled warmly and touched Liam's face. "You'll be all right. We're safe here."

She stepped back to allow the robot to assess Liam's injuries for immediate treatment, and she looked up to the others gathered there. "We're underneath the palace spire. We should be safe, at least for awhile."

[Assistant]
Berry
Berry stumbled through and out the other side of the silver curtains of the portal with a disorientating twist in her stomach and a ring in her ears. At any other time, Berry would probably have complained about it and how they really should try to make it more accommodating for the older generation. However, considering she had just spent goodness knows how long running from The Grit coupled with the sky splitting in two and her friends turned to stone, Berry was just glad to still be alive to feel somewhat uncomfortable.
"Oh good gracious me." She murmured and clutched her chest feeling her heart beat frantically.

Her gaze wandered around taking everything in around her from the stone walls, to the strangers she had nearly walked into, to the robots guarding The Queen. Berry's eyes widened to the size of saucers. It was The Queen. The Actual Queen!

"The Spire?" She breathed in awe and looked above. Stunned by the idea that directly above them sat hundreds of tons of brick and metal. "Oh good gracious me."

Feeling utter terror rise once again in her throat Berry took a deep breath and pushed it back down. She hadn't become a successful performer by letting fear and nerves get the best of her, and she wasn't about to start now. As they say: The Show Must Go On.

"Your Majesty." She stepped forward, holding her chin up high and hands held neatly by her hips. "I do apologise for how rude this may sound but I must ask; Do you have any idea what is happening?"

Whilst she asked she kept an ear out for any other movement from the portal behind her, hoping the others she had travelled with had survived their journey to where one of the robots had said there were weapons. She kept waiting. Her stomach squirmed with worry.

[User]
Vincent hesitated as Liam urged for him to go ahead. A part of him somewhere actually didn't want to follow after everyone else. He wanted to run freely through the city with free reign to play around with his skills and improve on them. He felt that if he entered that portal he'd enter nothing, but a velvet prison. That was a feeling he didn't particularly care for. Then the robot sharpshooter burst through a mass of the Grit that had managed to follow them downstairs in quite the racket.

At this point, Vincent's hesitation had caused him such delay that now he had no choice but to run for the safety of the portal. He suspected the portal would only last for one or two more uses before collapsing on itself. Such a hastily built portal lacked any permanence. Father always drilled quality over quantity into him. Vincent always preferred quality time rather than learning, but now he wished that he paid better attention. He dismissed such thoughts quickly as he had no time to waste on regrets and what ifs.

Stepping through the portal left Vincent with a disorienting feeling which passed quickly enough. He let out a small shout of surprise as the Queen leaped on him to hug him from behind. He felt he had made his feelings about her clear and yet the Queen still embraced him. He was quite impressed at her resilience and caught off guard by her energy. She pulled herself off of Vincent as he stepped off the sigil and Liam appeared behind him.

Vincent saw Kat and Moth were alright. He nodded to Kat with a light smile. He barely acknowledge Moth as a presence. He was truly impressed by Liam's resilience to still be standing after taking such serious injury.

Vincent bowed his head towards Liam respectfully. "Well done."

Then the Queen addressed the group.

Vincent frowned. Safe was good at least for now. Everyone here needed to rest and recover after what happened, except maybe Kat and himself. He glanced over to Kat, whom he suspected that she didn't want to stick around for long, because she wanted to find her family. He simply felt that staying around would be a waste of time.

"So, how are we going to deal with this problem?" He immediately asked with a serious tone. "Hiding clearly isn't going to work. The effort put into the Wall was clearly wasted since the Grit cleared it so easily and are already working on getting the grounded Grit inside. From what I've seen our current pool of weapons to fight back are very much lacking."

He then pointed towards the ceiling. "And what in the Hell is going on with the sky out there?" He had no interest in holding back his tone in speaking with the Queen when most of her subjects were frozen in stone or dead or scattered to the wind.

[Assistant]
A great calm settled over Moth as a cool, damp breeze tousled his blond hair and made his eyes water. Sunlight filtered through the chamber from somewhere far above, casting a rainbow of reflections across the towering stone monoliths as they pulsed silently throughout the massive cavern.

Dizzy, Moth was speechless as the tiny Queen embraced him and Katrina joyously, her words floating around him without him hearing. As various people clamored for her attention, he slipped away. A small old woman had joined them at some point, flustered and out of breath as she gaped openly at the Queen's presence. Moth passed her, walking to the edge of a smooth, flat stone surface that jutted out over the sandy cavern floor and fell heavily to a sitting position with his legs hanging over the edge. He still had the shield on his left arm, the pair of boots clutched tightly in his right. He pulled off the shield and his shoes and set them aside, slipping on the combat boots with slight apprehension. Again, memories flooded back of a decade gone by. The gruff, rhythmic chanting filled his ears and the intertwined lights and shadows around him grew stronger, alternating white and black like people hurling themselves forward and backward in a furious mob...

He tied the laces as he had been taught back then, snapping them tightly into several knots and tucking the laces in. He stared at his new boots and the modern world flowed back to him. He could still hear the others talking over each other excitedly somewhere behind him. That old woman. So there were others who yet lived. If there were others not on the Wall that morning who were still moving, then...

Moth stood abruptly, shaking. If the Queen could create a portal to bring them there, then she could definitely send them elsewhere in Periphery. The lower residential district. Moth had to go to the residential district. He had to know. He had to hope.

He swallowed, hard, and picked up his shield and tattered shoes and walked back to the group. His gait slowed and he breathed out in a quiver. He nearly sobbed with relief. For the first time that day Moth felt himself relax. For the moment, they were safe. The towering violet and gold machines just behind the group attested to that. The mile-high cave was obscenely beautiful, once Moth actually took notice of it, and the combat boots were damn comfortable. His stomach vibrated angrily.

If the Queen was granting requests, Moth planned on first asking for lunch.

[User]
Back in the armory

Maria had scrambled downstairs after everyone, glancing around quickly at the various weapons and armor on display. Her eyes settled on a large tower shield, lying on a rack next to a bin that said "EXPLOSIVE: DO NOT TOUCH, EXCEPT IN EMERGENCIES." Well, this certainly counts as an emergency, I would say. Maria thought. She opened the box and grabbed a double handful of the small, colorful balls it contained, then put them - carefully - into one of her jacket pockets, making sure to nest them among candy wrappers and various other soft bits and bobs. As an afterthought, she also grabbed the tower shield next to the grenades, noting that it was a good bit lighter than she thought it would have been. She was admiring the intricate design on the shield (a maze-like design etched into the front, spiraling outwards into a design that looked similar to a stylized set of bull's horns), when the lights suddenly went out. She looked up indignantly, and got out "Hey, who turned-" before catching sight of something that made her heart stop.

Dozens of eyes, belonging to almost that number of Grit. All looking directly at her.


[System]
Age: 16
Gender: Male
Race: Loki Trickster Spirit
Race Information: Originating in Denmark where they once tried to portray themselves as demigods, Loki are...assholes. And that's the nicest thing that can be said about them. They are known for being completely sadistic and violent, taking pleasure in using their powers to torment other races, (usually humans) for little more than their own amusement. Luckily for everyone else, they aren't great at hiding their tracks, and have almost been wiped out. Even now, they are widely hated by just about everyone. They worship the trickster god Loki, whom they have obviously named themselves after. Many believe themselves to be his descendant.

Their powers revolve around illusions and mild mind reading. They can only access memories on the surface easily. Trying to get deeper into someone's mind forcefully is extremely painful for both sides and can even cause a stroke in extreme cases, so it is rarely done. It is possible to get deeper into a mind carefully over time, although this can take hours and even days. Using these two powers together, Loki fight using psychological warfare and scaring their opponents into submission.

Their illusions are capable of imitating some senses such as touch and taste, but they are completely incapable of causing physical harm on their own, with all the damage they can cause being in the head. If someone is capable of resisting their illusions, they are actually slightly weaker than the average human. Almost any other monster can take them down with little to no trouble. They are quite quick though, and their eyes are slightly more acute than a humans.

Appearance:
Human Form-

Their real form is humanoid shaped, however, their eyes increase in size, turn a silver colour, and their hair turns fiery red rather than the white that is so common in loki human forms. They grow by about two feet and their skin becomes ice cold to the touch. They believe their true form is blessed, and will never turn into it in front of a non-loki.

Backstory: He says very little about his backstory, although seeing as he is in a monster school, its clear that his parents are out of the picture. A Loki would rather kill their offspring rather than let them be raised by another race. Or if he shows interest in cooperating with other races. Or just if hes not good enough at illusions. Not to mention that if people realised he was a Loki, he would be completely shunned.

Bio: Leo is best described as an oddball. He has a habit of daydreaming constantly, such as in class, or even in the middle of a conversation. He also gets lost extremely easily, even in places that he has been to many times. Due to being a Loki, he stays in his human form almost constantly, and always avoids questions about what race he is. This leads most people to believe he is a magician or something. Despite being a saint compared to most loki, he still has an extremely black sense of humour, and enjoys seeing people he dislikes hurt, as well as being extremely petty at times. Apart from that though, he mostly stays away from everyone else. This has resulted in him getting a reputation for shyness, not helped by the fact he has quite a quiet voice.

[User]
@KatherinWinter @arowne97 @EurmalEye @Vulkan

The First Day of School

 The sun would be high in the sky. A clear day, one that most would enjoy. Humans would be going about their business dealing with daily life problems. From school to work, and all of the in-between. So unaware of the situation around them, as a bus was driving through town heading towards the tunnel. A bus seeming like a regular grey hound transport bus, but it's passengers are anything but ordinary. This was a bus of monsters all heading to their first day at Yokai Academy. Driven by a mysterious man in a bus driver get up, though his face would almost always be slightly shadowed with glowing eyes, only certain people would knew this man was a Nurarihyon, a yokai that can go where it wants when it wants without ever being seen. often referred as the commander of monsters.

 The bus would soon enter the tunnel and after a flash of light come out on the other side... where there was no longer paved road, a place the tunnel shouldn't of lead to. they was suddenly next to a cliff side where the ocean sprayed up. a looming forest ahead of them, the sky slightly darker even in broad daylight. The bus would stop next to a bus stop sign and the doors would open for the students to get off. They would be told to simply follow the dirt roads and follow the maps they was given to reach the school. They would be briefed on the school rules at that moment as to insure no mishaps would happen, most of the rules would be classic school rules that most had to deal with. But two major rules stood out and that was; "No revealing your true selves to anyone" and "You must remain in your human forms for your stay at the school". Their meaning as obvious as ever. The entire purpose of this school was so the students could learn to live in the human world without causing trouble.

[Assistant] Katherin didn't think of herself as a monster. Of course she didn't think of herself as a human either. She was simply a witch. She could do things that human's couldn't do. It was something that everyone in the bus could do things humans couldn't do. She couldn't wait to met the other kids. When the bus stopped she climbed out of the bus. She joined the others when they gathered to listen to the rules of the school.

[User] Mira sat on the bus watching the world pass her by as her roll a purple ball on her necklace between her fingers. She felt her tails and ears twitching under her skin. As a Kitsune in the human world she never really got to release what she prided herself on unless she was alone. She hoped this new school would be different. Once the bus stopped she got off and joined the others to listen to the rules. She looked around taking in her new surroundings.

[Assistant] Leo was half asleep when the bus stopped and was jarred awake by the other students getting up and walking off. Slowly getting to his feet, he was the last to get off, trying and failing not to yawn as the crowd gathered in wait for the rules to be explained. He kept slightly away from the others, trying to look inconspicuous while keeping an eye on the other students. He didn't know any of them, and wasn't entirely sure he wanted to. Being asleep on the bus certainly hadn't helped with that.


[System]
Name Meaning
Lean Bear
Age
3 Years
Gender
Male
Breed
Gray Wolf
Personality
Avonaco is sly and intelligent, especially where it concerns humans. Having spent a great portion of his life among the nasty two-legged creatures, he has a well developed knowledge of their preferences, for example, the ability to be able to "touch" or "pet" him. Avonaco uses this intelligence to his advantage, scavenging food when food is hard to come by from unsuspecting and sympathetic humans. Avonaco is also relatively friendly, more so to tame dogs. He is cautious around other wild wolves, as his roots only partially lay within their community.History
Avonaco was born to a captive mother and a wild father. Already pregnant, his mother was captured by humans in an attempt to establish a breeding population of captive wolves, which they hoped to cross with their dogs to produce a new breed of dog. His mother, who was mistreated in the process of "taming," gave birth to nine pups, three of which died. With sparse resources of the part of the human population, the wolves were kept in a poorly constructed enclosure that allowed Avonaco's mother to escape at nights to hunt and run free, an activity the human keepers remained oblivious too. Tempted, however, by the human pampering and easy life within the wood walls of the small tribe, his mother would always return.

At some point in his life, Avonaco's mother began taking her pups out on night trips, teaching them how to hunt and fend for themselves. Much to the astonishment of their human caretakers, Avonaco and his siblings, with what appeared to be very little exercise, were steadily growing stronger and wilder. The caretakers, who had believed the soft captive life would have fattened up the pups, making them lazy and mellow, were shocked by the wolfish and feral nature of the pups. At some point in his life, Avonaco made the conscious decision to leave the man-enclosure for a permanently wild life. A few of his siblings followed suit, and they have spread across the territories beyond the human village, parting ways.

Avonaco's mother and the rest of his siblings remain with the human population, who have begun crossbreeding them with the tame dogs. Avonaco, in the meanwhile, roams the wildnerness, occasionally coming back to the village to scrounge for food when he is too lazy to hunt. For now Avonaco is without a pack, something he wishes to change in the future.

---

Pack Member / Loner
Loner

Pack Name
N/A

Pack Rank
N/A

Mate
N/A

[User]
Summer
7.25 am - The Siberian Taiga
The sun had risen early this morning, its glow projected over the large territories that filled the vast new world of the Russian landscape. A light breeze allowed itself to flow through the trees, rustling leaves and carrying the many songs of varying birds throughout the forestry. The green grass thick and lush coated almost every inch of the earths surface and flowers bloomed in large colonies in the open plains of fields while smaller groupings scattered through the forests floor.

Small prey such as rabbits and squirrels, along with many others, scurried about as they began foraging their day away, ears always alerted, movements swift and precise as they were always prepared for predators on approach. The large game ranging from deer to boar, even loose sheep or cattle from the old world, grazed lightly in open fields, shifty natures keeping them in groups as they maintained high alerts only to scatter at the first sign of danger.

The Siberian Taiga was slowly coming alive with all its inhabitants as they moved around each other, some without any knowledge of those nearby. Its vast forestry allowing coverage away from the slowly rising summers sun.

All the while, the wolves of the Taiga still rested in silence.

---

Aiyana
The young she-wolf slowly began to awaken as the forest came alive around her, the song of the birds causing her ears to twitch this way and that, the smell of prey cast upon the wind driving velveteen nasal passages to push and pull dividing all separate trails. Eyes of faint golden hues fluttered open as the light of the sun struck her face while the trees that surrounded the open field of the Rendezvous site poured a shadow of grey upon the areas untouched by the bright morning light.

Aiyana slowly pulled her head up, ensuring she didn't wake the he-wolf Tahoma in which she'd been curled beside. Slender hind legs sprawled off to her left, as her shoulders propped her up. Eyes now partially closed and maw parting as a slither of pink curled within its gape. Glancing about the large field around her she'd unhurriedly spring to all four paws, leaving Tahoma in place. Willowy legs shifting as fore-paws shuffled and extended forwards, chest dipping almost low enough to touch the dusty patch below and rump remained raised with tail pointing skywards.

As she eventually straightened up, her pelt would shudder and her head would tilt one way before the other vigorously as she shook off the faint brown particles clinging to her vibrant pelt of cream mixed auburn. She'd not cause a stir as she looked towards the slumbering pile of Okami and Suki, then towards Artorias and finally Tahoma. Pacing up a small mound of shifted soil, her hind legs would tuck under her rump as she sat tall on the raised earth, alerted yet relaxed as she watched her surroundings not yet ready to scout the territory as she did most days.

---

Okami
Barely shifted in his sleep as his ears faintly twitched forwards and backwards, tail curled around his side as his limbs tucked closely to his multi-toned bodice. The morning light not yet bothering him as he puffed a light yip and allowed legs to kick ever so slightly as he dreamed of who knows what. He managed not to move much within his deep thought as a little bundle of black melded timber fur pressed within his chest, the sound of her heartbeat ringing in his ears as he rested his own head just over her back.

Within the moments of his sister awakening he'd barely quivered whilst his eyes opened slightly, the sight of the tall female in front of him unfaltering his demeanor as he remained upon his side. The silence of the morning only tainted by the melody of the local choir and the proud stature of his sister spawning a grin upon his lips. Muzzle wiggled about, this way and that, as he'd gently shift the young pup upon him to a position in which allowed him to prop himself up on his elbows in a side-lay.

Tanned jowls parting as his yellowed k-9's would be bared, a snake of rosy flesh curl upwards whilst a docile whine emerging his vocals as he allowed the drowsiness of the nights rest to leave him. His hues a darker tone to those of his sisters, almost a chocolate tinge as he briefly glimpsed the terrain of the Rendezvous site and its few inhabitants still slumbering within its span.

"What a lovely morning," he'd allow the gentle, hushed tones to pass through his mind, "Absolutely beautiful."

---

Suki
The young canid stirred deeply in her sleep, darkened pelt of cream through timber mixed ebony pelt shuddering with the twitches and jolts of limbs in her deep hallucination, slender tail wiggling behind her as she yelped and whimpered visibly looking to be chasing or playing with something in her head. The small figure hardly roused by the movement of Okami nudging her into the small gap between his forelimbs, she'd simply curl up to fit within its spacing whilst maw parted to mouth at the air with the accompanying high-pitched groans. It was obvious Suki in for slumbering further into the mornings reaches.

[Assistant] Artorias stirred slightly and his eyes opened as he picked his head up. his jaw opened as he let out a yawn punctuated by a slight whine and shake of his head. He pushed himself up with his front paws and slowly rose to his feet, he took a step forward and his rear dipped as his back legs stretched out behind him, as he straightened himself out he saw some of the others were waking, he saw Aiyana sitting nearby and started in her direction, his tail swayed lightly behind him as he walked and his ears flicked at the noised of the forest around. He stopped a few paces away from the Alpha she-wolf, tilting his head in her direction as he sat down before looking over at the other members of the pack, his tail curled itself beside him as he glanced from Okami and Suki to Tahoma.

[User]
Mizuki was up long before the rising of the sun, not actually having gone to sleep the night before. She stalked slowly through the brush and trees, following the strong scent of Rabbit. As she got to a clearing she spotted it, the critter rummaging around the roots of a bush for its own meal. Steadying herself against the trunk of a tree, and concealing herself from the Rabbit's sight at the same time, she glanced at her side to make sure her wound was still closed.

Scenting the air and checking the direction of the light breeze that ruffled her pelt, she carefully moved downwind of the critter and began to creep towards it, readying to pounce. She saw its nose twitch and jumped on it, crushing its neck in her jaws at the same time as she felt her wound reopen. Dropping her kill and lying on her unwounded side she began to lick the wound until the bleeding stopped enough for her to eat.

She knew there were other wolves in the area, some in a pack and some alone like herself, and as she ate she hoped that none of them would find her in her current state. She was not in good enough condition to fight off anyone if her wound opened from just hunting.

[Assistant]
Avonaco awoke pressed against the matted fur of a sleek black and tan dog. The dog twitched in his sleep, and Avonaco lazily remembered making friends with him, and two other strays, the night before. The two others lay not too far away, having already been aroused by the frosty morning chill.

Avonaco rose to his feet stretching, his dull white claws shining brightly in the shafts of sunlight that leaked from the sky. He left his black and tan friend, only to alert the two others of his departure. As he informed them, the white spotted dog flicked his ear in acknowledgement, and the smaller off white she-dog gave him a friendly lick on the mouth. A sign of submission, he thought, satisfied.

Many of the dogs in the man village prostrated themselves before Avonaco, when they saw him. They weren't too keen on having their necks torn open by a big bad wolf. Only the enormous, bear likes beasts, who guarded the sheep in the pastures ignored him. Avonaco wasn't really sure you could call them dogs; they were tall, taller than a wolf, and they had serrated molars of which Avonaco was sure they would have been happy to attack with. Especially if a wolf, one of the pasture sheep's many predators, roamed into their territory.

With once last flick of his ear, Avonaco rose to his feet and left the man village. His stomach was round and heavy with food, a procurement of the night before when he groveled at the feet of a pink faced two-leg.

Bounding out into the forest, Avonaco set out at once to find other wolves. He had been searching for months since he had left the man village. His efforts had not been fruitless. He had found the signs of wolves living together, and, inevitably, had nearly come face to face with some. But Avonaco was alone, and could not fight a large pack.

He would either have to worm his way into a smaller one, or, he thought frustratedly, find a mate a search that had already proved to be difficult. Still, feeling energetic and determine, he vaulted into the forest without a second backwards glance at the lazy village behind him.


[System]
Age: 238

Gender: Female

Race: Dathomirian

Appearance:

[User]
CC-1313 was rubbing his temples, but he was in a combat zone, so in actuality he was rubbing the front of his helmet. It was more symbolic than anything, to express his displeasure at the new change of leadership. It was only a short while after the orders that a lone gunship arrived, dropping off its passenger. It was the Jedi that was to be his new superior. CC-1313 had only glossed over the information about the Jedi, having never thought that the Jedi themselves would become officers in the army. He did read that in times of war, the Jedi did not shy away from armor. This Jedi though, did not wear any armor. The Jedi walked over to him and introduced himself,
"You, commander CC-13? I am Jedi master Ruhk Pic, your new general. I want a status report before we join the fighting again." He requested,
CC-1313 looked around at his troops and nodded, "We have just destroyed this droid factory. My troops are currently holding position with a secure perimeter. We have 2,534 battle ready Troops out of 2,640. The remaining 106 are WIA and are being treated, we have no KIA or MIA. We have been assigned two wings of 44 Gunships each as transport and air support, and we have no armor support."

[Assistant] Ruhk Pic smiled, as much as an Ithorian could smile, "Well then commander or role is clear. Load each transport with troops, and have the pilots listen for stress points in the battle line. We will deeply either where the druids are about to break or where are forces need backup. We shift with the battlefield, a good idea no?" Ruhk began to first examine the ships, and once satisfied boarded one, "Well commander? Got rocks in your shoes our do you have tactical input?"

[User]
CC-1313 ignored the aliens' remark about rocks in his shoes. Yeah, he did have rocks in his boots, and sand. But sand and pebbles got everywhere, and they didn't bother him that much. He rubbed the chin of his helmet and nodded,
"Very well General, I'll call over the Battalion leaders to brief them on our plan. We shouldn't spread ourselves too thin." CC-1313 determined, he called over the Battalion leaders over, and in a few seconds they stood in a circle. CC-1313 explained the Generals' plan to them and they all agreed. "Alright, since we're all in agreement over this, I recommend that we deploy by Battalion." He said, looking at the Ithorian Jedi, "Each Battalion would have discretion over how many troops to deploy at a zone, as well as the ability to call for reinforcements from the other Battalions." He explained, "We'll go on your green light."

[Assistant]
"Don't follow them - they will break us apart. Hold your ground and continue firing." The air filled with dust and sand as one of the other teams of clones took out a separatist starship. Arven covered himself against the dust storm which was taking place. After it cleared, the Jedi saw that the droids were mounting another assault. "Captain!"

"General?" Captain Fox replied, he knelt down next to the Jedi.

"Take command, I'm going to help with the defense." Arven ignited his lightsaber.

"General, you shouldn't. There are thousands of droids." Fox had a tone of concern in his voice as he warned the Jedi against his plan.

"I will be alright captain. You take care of command, make sure that the men do not advance until we have a clear opening. Any questions?" Arven held onto the rails in the gunship, the wind whipped his hair and robes around him.

"You called us men."

"Pardon?" Arven was confused by the captain pointing out what the Jedi had previously stated.

"You called us men. No one has done that before, we're clones..." Captain Fox snapped back into his professional, military attitude. "Good luck general!" He saluted. And with that, Arven jumped out of the gunship.

The ground approached the Jedi quickly, but as he was about to hit it, he used the force to gently touch down. He landed near the clone troopers. "Do not advance!" Arven deflected a blaster bolt. "Defend the position!" The clones formed a line and began firing at the advancing droids. The sand and dust still filled the air. Arven deflected another few bolts. A pure white beam, originating from behind the clone lines, began slicing through the droids. The droids were in retreat. "Advance!" Arven heard his com link come to life in his ear. "Go! Go! Go!"

The troops around Arven advanced, he followed suit. Saber in hand, he ran alongside the clones, then they found the enemy. "Fire! Defend the position! Hold your ground!" Captain Fox ordered in all of their ears.

"Captain!" The Jedi called to the captain, through the com link.

"Sir?"

"I'm going to try to flank them. I'm going around."

"Alright sir! We'll cover you."

[User]
Kiana had been there in the coluseum, awaiting the signal. When she saw the flash of purple up near Count Dooku, she knew that it was time to strike. Throwing her cloak off, she ignited her green lightsaber. The ensuing battle was a costly one, for every hundred droids they dismantled, 1 of them fell, but 100 was nothing to the droids numbers. 1 was everything to a Jedi. Each of them that fell hurt every other of them, until, eventually, they numbered just 14 in the middle of the arena, Master Windu ordering them to make this a last stand that would be remembered in the archives. She glanced over to her old master, Plo Koon. Words were not spoken, but they both knew that it was better that than to join with a power-hungry Dark Jedi like Dooku. She had been down the dark path before and had no wish to return to it. She readied her blade. For some reason, this felt right. She imagined joining with the Force to be a pleasant experience. She just hoped that they didn't shoot her in the face.

As a rule, Jedi don't believe in luck. What happened next, she considered the most lucky thing that had ever happened to her. Like flaming valkyries, gunships descended to the battlefield. At first, she was convinced that this was merely overkill on the part of the seperatists, but quickly noticed that the ships were attacking the droids. "So that wasn't just a bluff." she smiled as she felt the feelings of the soldiers aboard, all of them determined to rescue her and the rest of them.

As the ships landed and troopers in gleaming white armour poured onto the battlefield, a commander with blue stripes approached her. "Ma'am, we have to get you out of here." he yelled firing into the horde of bloodthirsty robots.

"Get everyone else aboard, we need to secure their escape." she ordered.

"Not happening, your safety is our first priority." he replied. Kiana could feel that one of their order was still alive on the battlefield, but playing dead for the robots.

"We have a man down and need to get him immediate medical attention." she ordered. She pointed into the crowd of droids. "Make us a path." she ordered. The Clone seathed beneath his helmet.

"Of course." he growled. This wasn't good, he needed to make sure that she was safe and now they were going to throw themselves into certain death? "Never wanted to live forever anyway." he mumbled "Pilot, we have a man down in sector 12" he said, tapping his helmet. No sooner had he said that, that the Gunship that he had landed on hovered around and opened fire into the crowd with all of its weapons. Kiana charged ahead through the explosions. The Clone ran with her, as did their men, providing covering fire as they ran. Eventually, Kiana found an injured Selkath Jedi lying on the ground, next to the dead Reek.

"Are you alright?" she asked him.

"I..." he coughed "I'll survive..." he said, breathing heavily. As she applied preassure to the wound, the gunship flew in behind her and the medic rushed to the Jedi's side. Kiana got up, just in time to deflect a blaster shot from a Droid. She looked over to the commander who stood over a decapitated corpse. He had rolled the corpse onto its back and crossed it's hand across its chest.

"We are leaving." Kiana yelled to him. He turned away from the body and ran to the ship, firing his pistol at the few remaining droids and vaulting onto the Gunship just as it began to lift off with them all inside. "Somebody you know?" Kiana asked him. The Clone didn't reply. They simply watched through the open hatch as the battle began to unfold beneath them. They landed in a staging area with the rest of the Jedi. She wasn't terribly confident in her ability to lead troops. 20 years ago, she had done so during the Stark Hyperspace war and it had ended... Less than desirably.

"General, the 312th are at your disposal." one of the Commanders said, saluting her. She was taken aback. She turned to the Clone that was with her.

"I don't believe we exchanged our names."

"Canderous, ma'am." replied the clone.

"Commander Canderous, I want you to direct these troops." she said "I believe that you are better suited than I."

"Very good, Ma'am." he replied and quickly tapped his helmet "312th, this is CC-0023, I am taking command. I want a contingent of Battle-Tanks and our ground troops protecting the MAC's whilst they focus their firepower on those Trade Federation vessels, I want every other heavy weapon targeting the Techno-Union ships." he ordered. He then turned to Kiana "Every ship we let escape into orbit will come back to hurt us later on." he explained.

"Very good, Commander." she said "We need to locate Count Dooku and the other Seperatist leaders, if we can capture them, then we can end this conflict before it begins."

"With all due respect, ma'am, we need all of our forces to deal with this threat." replied Canderous.

"1 Gunship will not make a difference to the overall result of the battle." She said, walking to the Gunship. Canderous seethed and followed her, jumping aboard with her. The ship took off and they began flying across the battlefield. As they flew past a Techno-union ship, Canderous moved up to the front of the gunship "Aim for the fuel tanks." he ordered.

"Roger." he said, as a pair of missiles were released from the missile bays atop the gunship. They flew and smashed into the fuel tanks, shattering them and igniting the contents, turning the techno union ship into a falling inferno. Flying across the battlefield, they spotted the retreating droids, falling back from a push, lead by a Jedi.

"Be safe." she nodded to him.

"Sir." the Pilot said. "We have just received orders from General Windu. They have located Count Dooku. Generals Kenobi and Skywalker are moving to intercept... Master Yoda is also on his way." he said.

"Very well, Dooku will be no match for all 3 of them. How long until we can get there." she asked. At that point, the ship was hit by AA fire. It rocked and began to lose altitude.

"Engines hit. I can't maintain speed and altitude... Current Intercept time would be 30 minutes." the pilot replied.

"Alright... Set us down there." she said, pointing to the Jedi. As soon as the ship set down, she and the Clone troopers jumped out, joining the push. Kiana managed to push her way towards the Jedi. "Master Arven. It's good to see you survived." she said. deflecting a blaster bolt with a flash of her green lightsaber. Canderous ran towards her as well, through a shower of red blasterfire. He spotted a squad of ARC troopers stood next to other Clone Troopers in the Jedi Generals Gunline. He shook his head at the sight, but then continued to fire back, as several Fighter-Tanks swooped past them and began to cut a swath through the droids lines.


[System]
Gender: M

Age: 26

Career/Class:Soldier / Ex-Soldier

Weapons:
* Basket Hilted Broadsword
* Imperial Dagger
* Norscan round Shield (Took from his first felled enemy)
* Aged Pistol

Physical Description Cyrdic is tall and lean, but solidly built, standing an inch over 6 feet in height. His eyes are reminiscent of shaped wrought iron. His face is ruddy and echoes a youthful appearance, though battles and training had roughed him into the look of a mature soldier. He has quite the rugged quality about him. Two scars mar his face. One parallel to the bottom of his left eye, and another scraping across his right jawline. His legs are long and his his facial hair is only a coarse, 5'oclock shadow thanks to his knife. He's clad in fine and tough leather over a chainmail hauberk, with sturdy traveling shoes and a worn belt.

Mental Description/Personality: Cyrdic isn't a fool. He spent a year apprenticed to a Quartermaster (as punishment for recklessness) and learned how to read and write (to a degree). The best way to describe him would be a hardened, rough soldier at the brink of his youth. He'll use what he can in his disposal to win, though half the time it turns out he'll need to fuck someone up anyway. His fierce independence and rough nature can only be matched by his determination to survive. He's not tactically intelligent, but he has a sense of how battlefields shift and can command smaller troops with his powerful voice. He tends to have a take-no-shit (unless it's from a superior officer) lookout on life. He's amiable to certain people however, and will have a dry wit around those he enjoys (or to people he wishes he could be more honest with). While fighting and killing and marching has been his entire life, he's not particularly fond of being thrust into impossible situations and doesn't lack a healthy sense of self preservation. He's gotten quite tired of working for corrupt officers. He's a devout Sigmarite thanks to his upbringing, and has a hammer chained necklace upon his breast to signify this.

[User]
Cyrdic only recognized the Tilean words for 'their' and 'gravedigger.' Past that, he was lost, but he saw the glint in her eyes and knew what was going on. He couldn't help but grin, and pulled his cloak a bit tighter. Even a Northlander like he felt a bit cold in this biting winter.

"Cyrdic" Camilla said, tugging his sleeve. He followed her finger toward the distant hilltop. His eyes were good, but Camilla's eyesight was always as keen as a blade. He could have sworn the figure looked their way and smiled, laughed even, though it was so far off he had no way to prove it. The Justicar looked at them with an infuriating and confused look, drawing a pistol. "Who is that? Is it him?" Thaddeus asked.

The Ostlander shook his head, pulling his cloak tighter once more. But not for the cold. "That was not Karl." he said grimly.

They moved onwards, heading down the hill carefully. There was no ice visible, but it still paid well to tread lightly as they descended, and then once the ground was even, the three found they had entered the sparse woods. Camilla's ghost was just up ahead when it had disappeared, the ubiquitously placed trees crooked under the weight of the snow upon their canopies. What bushes there had been were now leafless, gnarled claws.

As they reached the crest of the small hill, beyond they would see more of the same. Except obscured by the snow filled tops of trees, now below them.

"Cyrdic, I-" Camilla began, stepping forward before slipping on ice. On instinct he caught her before she could fall, his back now turned to the way they faced. "You ok?"

"We need to get a move on." The Justicar began to order. It was just at that moment when a wickedly barbed arrow escaped the decline and banged off Cyrdic's Norscan Shield, right along where he had strapped it on his back. The arrow spun in mid air and fell upon the snow. Cyrdic and Camilla shared a look, before the Ostlander yelled. "Down!" And covered Camilla with his body as a dozen arrows were loosed. Half of them flew wide, the archers poor aims. Thaddeus had taken refuge behind an oak, and the other missiles were either buried in the snow or bounced off Cyrdic's shield.

What followed was a bestial roar along with the echoes of an insane laughter. Cyrdic peeked out from under his shield in time to see beastmen loping up the hill, armed with axes and spears. Most of them were small, about a Dwarf's height and not nearly as wide. But some were mansized and white furred, with the heads of horses and oxen.

[Assistant]
Camilla tasted blood in her mouth from where she hit the snow, sucking on her lip she scrabled on the ice till she found purchase and pulled herself up behind a tree. She needed have bothered concering herself with cover because it seemed like the enemy had decided that one volley was enough distraction from the real sport. The charged down the slope, hooves kicking up snow as the came on brandishing crude weapons red with rust and blood.

Rising to a crouch she pulled both pistols from her belt and leveled them. She shot the first enemy, an elk headed dwarfish thing, through the right eye, its head snapping back with a clack as the finely made pistol roared. The second shot, right handed and less accurate blew a gout of arterial blood from the neck of a second attacker. It made a gurgling bray as it staggered forward a few feet before tumbling into the snow. With no time to reload she dropped both pistols to the ground and drew her rapier with a crisp ring of steel.

Beside her the Justicar had unslung his great sword and made an experimental figure eight, whipping the great sword through the air with a speed that made the crip air sing. A half dozen stride before they reached her Camilla sprang forward in a cat like pounce, dropping under the blow of an ax and sweeping a spear point up and away with a precise parry. Drawing her weapon back she thrust into the belly of another of the creatures before spinning gracefully away from its companions blow. The stench of the things was incredible, damp fur and animal filth mixed with fungus and rotting milk. Open sores and buboes covered the wretched things. @POOHEAD189

[User]
Cyrdic decided to keep his shield strapped to his back to block warding blows, grabbing his wolf-hilted longsword and charging down the slope as fast as he was able in such deep snow. While Camilla ducked and dodges and riposted to his left, Cyrdic took the center. His aim was at the man sized Gors charging up the hill. A particularly large one wielded a wicked moon-bladed axe, the hilt made of human skin.

A smaller ungor was more nimble and quick however, running past his kin in an attempt to skewer Cyrdic with a well timed spear thrust. The Ostlander simply grabbed the haft of the spear once the beastman had stabbed forward, and he chopped the spear in two with strength that baffled the smaller mutant. Cyrdic did not halt his momentum, bowling over the dumbfounded beastman and snapping its back on his heavy boot, before his sword met the axe in a shower of sparks.

Thaddeus made a good accounting for himself, initially. His greatsword had incredible reach and a fine edge, which he used to cut two smaller beastmen in half, and kept a larger one at bay as he weaved the blade back and forth. As Cyrdic lopped the head off of the Beastman he was fighting, he turned around to see the beastmen that had passed him bearing down on Thaddeus. The Ostlander quickly gained on them, and the first beastmen he caught unawares, he ran through.

Fighting Chaos for years gave Cyrdic a particular hatred for such creatures, and his sword nudged him even further. With a satisfied grimace, Cyrdic twisted the blade inside the creature's side, and then yanked it out, igniting a terrible sucking noise as its blood spilled onto the already reddening snow. Thaddeus used the distraction to finish one of the Gors. "For Sigmar and his Imperial majesty!" he cried.

Cyrdic grabbed the back of the last beastman's head, yanking it back as he drove his boot dagger into the beast's jugular. "For the Empire!"

The beastman fell, and the two men were left breathing heavily. Camilla gave a curse in Tilean, but she seemed unharmed. A sudden, unnatural laughter broke the silence like a shattered glass, and Cyrdic snapped his head round to see.

But there was no one there.

[Assistant]
It was a brutal night for a cold camp. Camilla pulled her cloak tightly around her body. It had seemed excessive when Cydric suggested the fur lined garment but now it seemed to be hardly enough to keep the icy wind from freezing her solid. The skirmish with the beastmen and their unseen master had cost them valuable time and they had decided not to risk pressing on to the tomb through the darkness. Thaddeus had seemed ready to object but the sight of Camilla methodically thrusting her rapier into the throat or eye of each fallen beastman had been enough to quiet him. None of them had been shamming, but bitter experience had taught her that it was best to make sure.

Fortunately Cydric, who had been here in his earlier campaigns, remembered seeing a ruined windmill on one of the nearby hilltops. The structure was mostly collapsed but the wall around the ground floor was pretty much intact, giving some shelter from the tearing icy wind. What remained of the second floor was in much worse repair, time and weather having tumbled down most of the stone wall, but it did provide an ideal vantage point for a look out. With beastmen in the area a fire was out of the question and so they had to pass the night with only body heat and their own garments to shelter them.

Camilla, as was traditional, took the second watch and so found herself crouching behind the low stone wall and looking out over the sparely wooded hills for any sign of beastmen sneaking through the darkness. Cydric usually seemed to have a sixth sense for when creatures of chaos were about, but one could never be too careful. The Tilean tried very hard not to think about black fletched arrows sailing out of the darkness or arcane spells that might silence her before she could give a warning but took a little comfort that her body falling from its precarious position on one of the old oaken rafters would certainly waken her companions if she was killed.

An hour or so into her watch she caught sight of it. A gleam of greenish light on the northen horizon. At first she thought it might have been the aurora. Ivan Petrovich, a big Kislivite they had crossed paths with several times, had told stories of the strange lights in the sky many times. As she squinted at the distant light though, she realized she was in error, the light was at ground level and it was coming closer. For the hundredth time she promised herself she would buy a proper Tilean spy glass the next time she had a few pieces of silver to spare.

Although she knew she should wake the others, something held her in place as she watched the light coming closer. The night was clear as only cold northern winters could be and she could see clearly for a long way. With a gasp she realised what she was seeing. It was men, distant man shaped figures marching in a long column along the shores of a far off lake. They seemed to be made out of some sort of greenish ethereal light, almost mist like as they glided along the ground. Banners hung above the translucent effigies, still despite the snapping night breeze that brought tears to her eyes the longer she stared. As she watched ghostly horses ranged out bearing what would have been scouts in an army of the flesh.

"Myrmidia…" she breathed and finally managed to break her paralysis, slipping gracefully down to where the two men slept. Grabbing Cydric's shoulder she gently shook him awake.

"There is something out there," she whispered as his eyes fluttered open.

[User]
Cyrdic's eyes opened, revealing Camilla's beautiful face, wariness and worry evident in her features. The Ostlander's vision had grown quite accustomed to the dark ever since he had found his sword, something he tried dismiss as his mind playing tricks on him. Still, he was glad for it when it proved useful. The man nodded and sat up, pulling off the heavy furs he had atop him and silently reaching for his sword.

The Ulrican sword howled through his mind when he grabbed it, and once he gazed out of the window he couldn't help but feel his heart skip a beat. "Ulric and Sigmar..." he breathed, the spectral figures as bright as torches to him in the dark of the night, even with the white snow beneath them. He was simply glad they had the lake between them, which gave them some time and distance. "Chaos Wraiths," he breathed in Camilla's ear. She shook her head as if she didn't understand, but they both knew there was no time for explanations.

Cyrdic had never seen such creatures before, but he had heard stories. What's more, he now recalled a small contingent of men having been lost within these very woods the last time he had been on campaign. There was no blood or footprints leading out of their small campsite come morning. Most were missing, and a few corpses were found. No marks upon them. Simply dead as if they had never had the spark of life, staring into the sky through glazed eyes.

"Justicar" Cyrdic whispered, nudging Thaddeus. The man took a few good shakes before he began to stir. "What's all th-" Cyrdic placed a hand on his mouth and a finger to his own lips. "We have to go. Quietly..."

As the party gathered their meager belongings, the Justicar having almost cried aloud at the sight of the wraiths, Cyrdic tried to look at the brightside. From the stories he had heard, restless spectars were often able to be raised when there was a high concentration of chaos within the vicinity, which meant the Tomb of Theodric, Tzeentch's Chosen, was close.

The group made their way out of one of the tumbled walls, and crouched as they tried to make it to the tree line on the opposite side of the windmill. That is, until they heard the same mad laughter upon the wind, and a sense of dread filling their hearts.


[System]
Age: 30

Appearance:

Personality: Loves to learn more things constantly. A peaceful person, he prefers commerce and negotiation to battle, and will only fight another person in self defense.

Skills: Engineering, computer use, electronics, physics

Non-standard Abilities:
Mutation: Radiation absorption: Metabolism feeds on Alpha, Beta, and Gamma radiation up to a certain level. If he absorbs too much, his radiation level will start to go down once he enters and low radiation area. This allows him to travel areas that would normally be dangerous for humans to be in. While metabolizing radiation cellular mitosis occurs faster, giving him up to a 5x healing rate.
Bionic Implants: Computer interface: This implant can wirelessly access nearby computers and download data or control them. It allows perfect recall of any data stored on the device. It also stores his electronic currency behind a firewall so that it can't be stolen by run-of-the-mill thieves.

Equipment: Dual Ion Rifle: Can switch between firing Negative Ions, which damage shields and electronics and stuns organic life, and Positive Ions, which heat up and burn targets, though it isn't as efficient at producing damage as a particle or laser weapon.
Wrist-comp: A largely unnecessary computer on his forearm, he keeps it for its superior processing speed, Geiger counter, holo-projector, and long range communications array, essentially an overpowered cell phone.
Backup power cells: Extra charges for his rifle or wristcomp. Sometimes used to bring derelict technology back to life.
Personal shield generator: Found on a dead Slaver, it doesn't protect against many hits, especially from heavier guns, but it is enough to keep him from getting injured by a stray shot while diving for cover or moving between cover areas.
Hyper-crystal necklace: Given to him as payment for repairing the reactor that almost killed him, he keeps it both for sentimental reasons and because it is both beautiful and valuable. The hypercrystal appears to contain a moving light within it, as the tachyons that enter it from hyperspace decay into photons when they enter our space-time continuum. Theoretically, the crystal could be used to power a hyperdrive, but he lacks the funds to build one.

Bio: Shortly after birth, he was adopted by someone who could afford to properly raise a child on Earth, something which is fairly rare. Raised by a Zathuran engineer, Setta Feestra, who worked at a starport in one of the larger salvage cities by the name of Savannah, he studied science and technology from a young age. He left when he got old enough. His implant was a gift from his parent, and was manufactured on their homeworld.
After leaving Savannah he traveled around, looking for a place where he could put his skills to work, earning a living by helping people. He learned of his mutation when a traveling wave reactor he was building for a city developed a radiation leak. He received a lethal dose of radiation and was expected to die, but over the next few days his radiation sickness went away, and his sores began to scab over. Within a week, he was reading as radiation free by the Geiger counters at the clinic.
Since then he has made a decent living salvaging in lightly irradiated areas, as few people have tried salvaging them, and radiation suits and radiation treatment drugs are fairly expensive.
Name: Zathuran (Zthu'rn)

Homeworld: Zatha

Specialization: Advanced tech, especially power, FTL, and scientific equipment.

Appearance: Red, yellow, or sometimes Purple Humanoids. To the human eye they appear to have a mix of male and female features, such as male physique, but also having feminine facial features. They rarely have visible hair on their faces or heads, though what hair they do have is in shades of white, silver, or grey.

Description: A race of hermaphrodites, they have a fairly diverse culture compared to many. The structure of their brains naturally makes it easier to understand advanced mathematics and physics, which has lead to many of them specializing in technology. In fact, their technology is the industry standard in the areas of hyperdrives and warp drives, as well as quantum singularity reactor technology. Their computer technology is also some of the best, as it has needed to be to do the calculations necessary for advanced physics research.
Those that don't go into such fields often still enter a scientific field, causing a much larger than normal percent of their population to work in biology and the medical fields. They also have a rich culture of art, music, and philosophy which draw large numbers of their people into it. This uneven distribution of employment has lead to them seeking other races out to fill the jobs in their business which their own society cannot provide. Many also go to other worlds to seek better employment opportunities outside of the flooded employment market of their homeworld.
At a young age all children are given a computer interface implant to aid in their education. Other races also purchase these implants from time to time, as they work with a variety of neural patterns as long as the proper firmware is installed on the chip.

[User] T'Lora didn't waste any time getting drunk and by the time Has'la had caught up to her at the bar she was already halfway through her first bottle of tequila. Finding a mule for their upcoming salvage wouldn't be too hard. Looking across the room she could see plenty of strong young humans. "Take yur pick. Any o' these mules'll do." She was more concerned with her bottle at this point and paid no mind to the man trying to make a sale. If there was one thing T'Lora was good at, it was drinking.

[Assistant]
As soon as Has'la sat down he could tell T'Lora was drunk. It didn't matter, though. She might have a bit of a hangover in the morning, but for the night there wasn't any reason not to drink once they were ready.

"Take yur pick. Any o' these mules'll do."

"For hauling the stuff, sure, but none of them look like the type to brave an automated security system, especially when they find out how small of a percentage they'll get for their troubles. Hopefully someone better will show up so that we don't have to hire one of them."

The waitress, the Bartender's granddaughter he assumed, brought his food over. He had decided to have a decent meal for a change and had ordered the vegetable "beef" stew, some boiled peanuts (for extra protein, as he hadn't had much recently) and a bottle of soda. He ordered a bottle of Jack when she brought his food, then started to eat. Surprisingly, while the meat was likely dog or some wild mammal in the area, it contained real beef stock. Animal products, at least the farmed kind, were expensive and hard to come by. They had likely bought theirs from the farms near Dallas and had it shipped in. Pretty expensive, but then it was for their higher-end food, so the customers were willing to pay.

Just as the waitress was leaving a man with a cybernetic eye walked up. "Hey there! You the guy looking for high-cap power cells?"

"Depends on how much you're charging." he said. If they were new, they could go for as much as thirty Valn each. Good rebuilds would still go for fifteen or twenty Valn each. He looked at one and was surprised. Most of the "high grades" you came across were actually mid-grades, low-grades that were refilled with high-grade fluid. These were actual rebuilt high-grades, though. Which was a bit suspicious. The only reliable sources of high-grades were factories, none of which rebuilt them, and Raiders, who kept large numbers around for their weapons. "Nice cells," he said, "but I'm curious where they came from." The man didn't look like an anti-raider, and raiders had been known to send their more recent members into towns to resell stuff they'd taken from their raids. If a group was getting desperate, they might even try to sell surplus power cells.

The cells might also be stolen from a shop in the area, most likely Houston. That would be almost as bad, though if he found out who they were stolen from he might arrange to return them for some sort of reward, maybe even a free cell or two.

[User]
"All refurbished," Harry answered honestly, "Picked 'em up out in the wastes, stripped 'em down and rebuilt them myself. Can't honestly say they'll run as good as new, but I'll stake my name on them being better quality than most you'll find in these parts." As he spoke Harry pulled his satchel around to show the stranger the pile he had inside, which just so happened to also nudge the stunner on his hip forward subtly, just in case the guy got any bright ideas. "Got twelve of 'em right now and could let them go at 200 for the set, or trade if you'd prefer."

Harry let his eyes drift over to the man's companion, taking in the details as casually as he could so as not to offend her. She was a fine looking beast, the kind he might've tried for a tumble with had it not been for the obvious smell of liquor wafting from her direction. He'd learnt the hard way that a woman who took solace in the bottom of a bottle may be good for a night, but would be far less friendly once the booze's glow dimmed and the pounding headaches started. They also tended to be a little forgetful about little details in the heat of the moment, such as angry husbands, or in one memorable case an angry wife.

[Assistant]
T'Lora listened carefully to the man's deal. He seemed fairly confident that her new friend would pay up 200 for his wares. She almost choked on her tequila when she let out a laugh mid-drink. "Those ain't wurt two hundo. You 'furbished 'em yurself so yur not coverin' cost of havin' some tech junkie fix 'em up fur you." She looked at Has'la. "Give 'im one fitty, that's fair." Satisfied with her response she returned to her glass half full of the fermented juice of desert agave fruit. Liquor was something she discovered on Earth since the castless weren't allowed to have liquor of any kind, instead given the simplest of ales made with very low quality fruits.

T'Lora honestly couldn't care less about the power cells but she recognized the look he gave her when he walked up to them. Either he knew that she was casteless or he was one of those humans that dislikes foreigners on 'his' planet. Either way she knew that they wouldn't get along from the start. He was clearly good at his craft though, the power cells looked like they were thoroughly taken care of, or she was too drunk already to tell a good cell from a bad one.

[User]
With a sigh Harry loaded the power cells back into his pack and began to fasten it up. "Sorry, the price is two hundred, take it or leave it." He said shaking his head sadly, "This is high-grade equipment and if it's too expensive for you then I guess I'll have to take 'em elsewhere."

He wasn't sure why he was even bothering to talk to the Blueberry, she was obviously too drunk to even understand him properly and for a moment he wondered why the trader would even bother to hang around with her. Then his gaze slipped down several inches and he realised exactly why.

Looking back up at T'Lora's face with a knowing grin he turned to go, "Well, I guess I'll leave you two to your romantic evening. Hope you both enjoy yourselves."

[Assistant] He knew the guy's "I'm going to leave now" thing was just a show to get him to not ask further questions or haggle any more, but he didn't care. He could use those cells. "I don't have two hundred." said Has'la, telling the truth. After buying that trailer he had a grand total of 187.63 Valn left, and they still had to fill the jeep up before leaving. "But I'm leaving tomorrow to pull some salvage. When I get back I'll have plenty. Or, you could come with us. I'll need some extra muscle to protect us when we haul it back and in case there's any automated defenses left intact when we get there. I could also use the help moving the heavier stuff. You can come with us, help us out in that regard, and I'll pay you one hundred for your troubles. I'll even buy the cells off of you when we get back and I sale my salvage. What do you think?" He hoped the man would take the offer, as he didn't have much else to add to it.

[User]
Already half turned away from the table Harry paused. "Automated defenses?" He asked, intrigued. There were only a few places he knew of where those things were still operating after all these years and all of them were well worth the trip, if you could crack them.

Lowering his pack to the floor Harry leant over the table as he looked into the stranger's eyes. He'd heard some people say you could tell whether someone was lying to you or not by looking into their eyes when they spoke, but he'd found looming over them with a glaring cybernetic eye loosened more tongues that blind faith. With his eyepiece whirring and clicking he quickly scanned the man, his readout picking out the wristcomp, shield generator and interesting bauble hanging round his neck.

"I'll tell you what," He began, trying to sound offhand and disinterested, "I'll join your party and I'll even let you have the power cells for now. In exchange I want first claim on any off the automated defenses that we encounter, and you'll hand me that necklace of yours for insurance. If it turns out we don't find anything worthwhile then I keep the necklace and you pay me my 200, if we hit paydirt then you get the bauble back and we call it quits.

"Of course, if you happen to not survive the trip, then I'll keep the keepsake, obviously." He finished with a friendly grin.

[Assistant] "The necklace has too much value, sentimental and monetary, for me to even consider using it as collateral on something like this. I'll put up the hundred Valn and my shield generator, provided you let me wear it until we verify that there aren't any automated defenses before turning it over to you. If you get at least their value worth of salvage from the automated defenses, then you give them back. If not, you're up one hundred Valn and a working shield generator for, at most, two days worth of work. I doubt you'll get a better deal than that for protecting anyone else." True, he didn't have much to put up for collateral, but for most guard types that would be more than enough to hire them.


[System]
Nickname(s): "Boltagit"

Klan: Blood Axes

Role: Kommando

Common Armament: An Imperial 'eavy bolta purchased for a lot of Imperium cash. Otherwise, standard Kommando gear - soot-blackened choppa, a couple of stikkbombs, and camouflaged hide jacket, trousers, and boots.

Anything else: Snekart is very proud of his 'eavy bolta, insisting it be referred to as such instead of the proper Orky name of big shoota, and given "da roight kustom ammo" to properly explode his foes in battle. Other Orks find this tendency infuriating, hence his nickname. He also wears stripes of purple and red on his back, his reasoning being that the enemy won't be looking for any purple, so it'll make him sneakier, whilst the red will let him sneak faster - but, since he won't be sneaking away from enemies anyway, they're on his back so the other boys can see where he is.

[User]
Gutsnaga was a git, snekart was a git. Dey was all gitz, every wun uv im. Zagruk reflected on dis truth as 'e sat on his rump behind da low wall an' fiddled wit' wun uv his buzz bombz. Try'n ta rememba how 'actly 'e was supposed ta use it. Did 'e pull 'da strappy fing? unscrew 'da lid furst? was it supposed ta 'explode? Eventually 'e jus got frustrated an popped up long enough ta hurl 'da kontaina at 'da 'umiez 'n rage. It hit wun unfortunate clean 'n 'da chest an' knocked 'em back on his ass as 'da kanista finally kracked an' released it's swarm. Well, most uv 'da swarm. Putt'n a few airholes into 'da kanista might have been a gud idea. But still a dozen or so buzz squigs were claw'n an' forc'n dere way throo 'da krack ta breath dere furst fresh breaths 'n days, an' eat dere furst meal....

zagruk laughed an fired his slugga wildly at da guardsman 'oo were now swatt'n an scream'n as da buzz squigs descended like... well like buzz squigs! now 'dat was a real kunnin weapon. No fancy gubbinz or bulletz needed. Dat's why it was so kunnin, none uv im otha gitz would know kunnin' if it up an' bit im 'n 'da face! zagruk new wot kunnin' was, den again 'e was a true ork. Not all orks were lucky enough ta be a snakebite like 'em. Most orks were destined ta be gitz as soon as dey krawled outta 'da mushroom groves. It was an unfortunate truth dat some orks (snakebites) were simply born betta dan othaz. More loved by gork an' mork…. a sad truth 'dat most orks kouldn't handle. 'da greatness dat was a mind an' body truly blessed by 'da twin Godz. Zargruk almost felt bad for im all.... Den again dey were all gitz an probably deserved it.

his internal musings were interrupted by a lasbolt scorch'n 'da muscle uv his stabbin arm an squiggly gnaw'n at 'da harness 'dat kept 'em attached ta it's ownaz belt. Empty'n his remain'n clip managed ta only hit wun guardsman, but it took his arm clean off at 'da elbow an' wit' a howl uv victory zagruk grabbed his squig, ripped it off his belt an' hurled it ova 'da field towards 'da 'umie.

[Assistant]
The idea of mashing Gutsnaga into the ground was a tempting one, but not a realistic one. While he was deciding a las bolt seared his shoulder, jogging his few brain cells into noticing what was going on around him. He was taking a lot of hits, though his armor was thick and tough enough to shrug off most of the incoming fire at this range. Mostly because these humies didn't really understand the proper application of DAKKA.

"Agh! Imma find som'thin ta smash" he growls at the boss, angry that he knows he would lose the fight with Gutsnaga and angrier that there wasn't something fun to make explode. He stomps off swinging his Tankhammer viciously smashing through a tree of appreciable thickness to vent his frustration. Bullets and las bolts still pinging off his armor until he was covered by the canopy of the broken tree.

Once out of earshot, which wasn't far due to the cacophony of battle going on Kargut starts grumbling to himself "Da boss tink 'ees so cunnin', but 'e can't even git us to a proppa fight! Da humies 'ere are soft an' scared as a wimpy grot!'" He stomps his way back to his previous position, on the other side of their little battlefield that he had abandoned a minute or two ago. Only to find a Guardsman trying to sneak up on them with a pair of grenades. Kargut shrugs, Waste not the gifts of Gork and Mork, he steps around the tree already swinging his Tankhammer with a satisfying bellow of "WAAAGH!!!"

[User]
No more invaders for now. Humies gettin' ripped to shreds had put off any other flanks for the moment, so far as Snekart could see - at least, none that Da Shiv wasn't able to get the brunt of. Snakey git deserved it, naturally. Anyway, Snekart found himself back in the area they were stuck in, putting the 'eavy bolta on his back for the moment as he crawled back to da boss. "Crawled", but more like a fast scramble between bits of cover, because otherwise he'd be seen, and being seen was bad for not being shot. To not be shot, you had to not be seen, obviously. Kargut hadn't figured that out yet, but even if he had, his stupid giant armour made it real difficult for him anyway.

'Psst. Boss.' Snekart was real quiet-like, which was still pretty loud, but quiet for an Ork. 'Wot's da plan, an' 'ow do I... er, wot do I do innit?' Turns of phrase weren't his strong point, but they weren't really any other Ork's strong point either, so that worked out fine for him. And of course, Gutsnaga did understand at least the basic bits of how to fight with kunnin' instead of just brutality, so best to make sure things were working the way he wanted them to. If they were working how Gutsnaga wanted, they were probably working how Snekart wanted too, obviously. That was why he'd signed up with Da Mad Boss to begin with, obviously.

[Assistant]
@BCTheEntity@Skwint@Sophrus@Torack@Jarl Coolgruuf

Gutsnaga looked around a bit until he found Snekart standing nearby- now he was a true Blood Axe, a sneaky and kunnin' git who understood the rudimentary skills of stelff - one large hand stroked over his scarred jaw and he gave a deep-throated chuckle.

"Gimme til night, den you'll see we all got summit to do..."

---

---

Night came swiftly to the jungle, the sounds of an alien planet coming alive all around the Greenskins position, the Imperial Guard finally having ceased their bombardment of the Kommandoz location for a moment.

"Aaaaah," rumbled Gutsnaga in his chest, "now dis is wot I been waitin' for." Using the sign-language of all Kommando squadz he gathered the rest of the squad around, "rite, listen up ladz. Them 'umies gonna try an get uz like a squig in a zoggin' trap, circle us like... but we gonna 'it 'em first see?"

He hadn't gotten to his rank in the Orkoid hierarchy by being stupid, but by knocking out more than one set of teeth on those larger than himself snd cleaving his enemies apart. Time after time fighting against the Guard and other Imperial forces had taught him a thing or three, and basic 'umie strategies were grasped even by his admittedly primitive brain.

"Roite."

Gutsnaga grabbed a large stick from the ground - ground covered in bullet-casings, holes from explosions, and spilt blood - scrawling a childlike diagram into the soft jungle dirt for all the others to see as they gathered round.

"Gonna try an ring our necks, see?" He grunted, drawing a circle inside a bigger circle, "dis is uz, an 'ere is them, yeah?" Next came an arrow pointing toward the larger circle from the smaller one, an arrowhead formed out of the smaller circle before going through the larger one, "das uz, we gonna punch roight thru 'em."

Slipping his knife the size of a grown humans arm from it's squig-skin sheath, Gutsnaga grasped some dirt and rubbed it over the glinting blade.

"Choppas only for this one ladz, gotta keep it reel quiet like. At least until we get clear, init." A large grin spread across the Nobz face, his eyes boring into those of Kargut for more than a moment, "grab yer gear boyz, we're movin' out."

---

---

As the seven moved through the undergrowth, sweat coating his hunched green body, Gutsnaga swept his goggle-covered eyes from one side to the other - always alert, always prepared to unleash some good old ultra-violence upon the enemy.

It was only a matter of time until they hit the encroaching humans, and he happened to be at the tip of the arrowhead (of course, cus he was the boss like), and when that happened they had to be quick as a striking squig-snake and as deadly as a venom-squig.

It took several hours of hiking and hacking through overgrown flora before the Devilz Brigade began to hear the rustling of something that wasn't just a huge predator or animal.

Immediately Gutsnaga raised a fist for silence and overwatch, his goggles picking out numerous heat signatures among the foliage, at least two dozen Guardsmen being led by peak-capped officers, there were also at least four heavy weapons held in unsteady hands.

Oh yes, he could smell the fear on these pinkskins.

"Alroight boyz, noice an safe - if ya got a silencer then stick it on an take some shots - we gonna put some holes in these 'umies. When yer ready then ladz."

[User]
Snekart hated waiting. Waiting meant enemies could try to sneak up on you, right back in Snekart's case. And nobody liked gettin' a shiv to the back, especially not Orks. Or, well, it depended on how you did it. A good backstabbing needed to be nice and gory, but still quick enough that you were gone by the time the other enemies turned round. So more of a backgutting, naturally. But obviously, you could just hit all of 'em with a load a dakka, and it'd be way more useful than either method, and also way more fun, as another squad of humies found out partway through the waiting.

Boss Gutsnaga eventually brought everyone back to him, when night fell, and came up with a plan. It was a pretty good plan - the humies were in a circle around 'em, so they'd get together and go through 'em. A good, kunnin' strategy. The problem, and what stopped it from being brutally kunnin', was that it was choppas only, which was a bad idea. The idea was to punch through, right? If he meant actually punching 'em, then choppas made sense, but if it was just to go through the humies quickly, it'd be way faster to shoot 'em when they got in the way. Sneakily, obviously. Snekart really wanted to say something about that, he really did...

---

In the end, he didn't say anything. Brutality made sense a lot of the time, but the better part of kunnin' was knowing when to get brutal wiv it. Obviously. And obviously, 'aving a go at da Mad Boss because you couldn't use yer 'eavy bolta was not kunnin'. Besides, Gutsnaga was naturally kunning. He probably knew wot he was doing. Anyway, if they did start getting shot at, Snekart meant to hide behind Kargut and his giant bloody armour until he could get into cover that he could move through, which made sense because they were both green, obviously.

Hours passed. They went pretty fast for 'Eadsmakka, because he was used to taking his time when sneakin' round. He figured most of the others might have trouble dealing with the long time spent not killing humies, because obviously krumpin' gits was fun - except Shiv, who was also used to it and a bit slow anyway, and Kargut, who was also used to it. Bein' slow, that was. Naturally. But in any case, after a lot of they wound up near some humies. Finally. And they could even go ahead and shoot 'em down, after all! If they had a silenc... er.

Snekart gritted 'is teef so 'ard, one of 'em nearly broke out uv 'is mouf, clenchin' 'is fists until 'is 'ands bled ta stop 'imself from flailin' 'em angrily. Zoggin' bloody 'ell. Uv all da things 'is 'eavy bolta woz, silent wozn't one of 'em, an' 'e didn't 'ave a zoggin' silencer ta make it silent, because dat wozn't wot it woz for, it woz like Gutsnaga woz makin' fun uv 'im for 'iz zoggin' weapon-

No, no, it woz fine. It was fine. He could deal with it. Work with it. Whilst the others took shots, Snekart could sneak ahead and do the sneaky sort of stabbin'. The kind that wasn't as brutal as a propa krumpin': if you 'ad to, you could get a backstab in quick-like wiv yer 'and over dere face, and sometimes that was enough. Mork didn't always need you to hit 'em so 'ard they went everywhere. Just 'ard enough to make 'em go down, right? Yeah, he could do that.

'Psst. Boss. Permishun ta start guttin' 'em all quiet-like, yeah?' he asked, quiet-like obviously, because they'd hear him if he was loud, obviously. Once he got the permishun, he'd start sneaking ahead, bein' sure ta be extra-quiet so 'e didn't get seen too soon. Normally, he'd unload with the 'eavy bolta, but... no silencer. He'd need to get one a those for next time this happened.


[System]
Race: Genetically Enhanced Human

Appearance:

Personality: Wishes to end suffering, disease, and death. He will help anyone who isn't his enemy, as long as it doesn't mean risking his own life too much.

Skills: Expert: Genetics, Biochemistry
Skilled: Implant Technology, Surgery
Experienced: MMA fighting

Non-standard Abilities: Enhanced immunity (Mostly disease, but some radiation), Enhanced healing (10x rate, plus complete limb regeneration, though it is slow), Adrenal control (adrenaline burst gives him superhuman strength and speed, and, at higher levels can place him in the alpha state, ie, bullet time, though it tires him more the larger the burst of adrenaline)

Equipment: Prison jumpsuit, Tracking/disable collar, medical sterile suit (carbon nano-tube reinforced polymer weave with a built-in forcefield for the head, to function as an emergency hazmat suit.), self-prepared Med kit (Programmable Antharan stem cells, various pain meds, bio-glue, various anti-viral and anti-bacterial agents, 5 full shots of adrenaline), Neural disruptor circlet (for use in restraining patients.)

Bio: Born on Kalasis, a planet in the Proxima Centauri system, he witnesses the death of millions at a young age when a plague infected his planet. It took over a year for the Galactic Medical Society to find a cure for the disease, by which time both of his parents had died. He was raised by his grandparents, and vowed to put an end to suffering and disease.
By the time he was an adult he had a degree in genetics and had begun training for his doctorate in medicine. He started conducting medical research in his own home, selling the results of his experiments to the GMS whenever they had need of them. Shortly after graduating, however, the Antharan Security Force found that he was testing his genetic treatments on larval Antharans. While they had no protection under Antharan law, and weren't even officially recognized as sapient beings, he was linked to terrorists with interests in biological weapons, have used them to get supplies on the black market, which gave the authorities probable cause to search his lab. There they found evidence of other crimes, and he was arrested.
He was released from prison three weeks ago on probation, and then arrested a few days later on charges of practicing medicine on a revoked license. The military secured his temporary release on the grounds that he help with the Lone Star.

Quote: "They have a 95% death rate before reaching the metamorphosis to second stage. The Antharans don't even consider them to be sentient beings until then, but their second stage will adapt to any physical hardship they come under during larval stage. Imagine if all species could adapt to physical hardship and trauma in such a manner."
-Explaining to an officer why he was experimenting on larval Antharans

[User]
"Don't worry, I'm already playing the Countdown theme over here. Can't just dump the boarding party and run without at least giving them a chance to get the job done, otherwise I'll be toasted by the Admiralty rather than some useless chunk of rock." Felix replied back testily, his hands hovering over the control panel ready to break free the instant he got the all clear, or when the clock ran out.

The light pattering sound on the shuttle's hull almost reminded him of the rainstorm back at home, except those storms couldn't suddenly change into a maelstrom of deadly metal fragments at a moment's notice. He should've been gone well before the storm reached them, and unless he broke away soon he'd never make it clear in time.

[Assistant]
"Well you won't be needing a ruler for mine, I'm sure you remember well enough. Give it an hour, though, and I doubt you'll need a ruler for his either, seeing as that's what you do best, am I right?" @Kalas

Marga's face froze for a second, before her left eye gave an involuntary twitched and her expression morphed from one of smugness into one of sheer vexation. For a split second she was tempted to retort back the she'd need the magnifying spectrum on her googles, but the childish response died in her throat before it even had a half decent chance of being voiced. The biting comment didn't perturb her as much as the fact that Mez could still call her out on her shit when she was being full of herself; that he could still tell when her behaviour was an act she put on. Besides her former paramour, there were only two other beings which had ever been able to tell when Marga was being fake, when her actions and words were part of a performance meant to conceal something. Those two individuals were her brother and her mother. With the exception of Mez for one short stage in her life, Marga had never been closer to another person than she was to her brother. Her mother however was another matter. While her brother knew how to read her demeanour from years of practice from raising her from childhood and then working alongside her when she became an adult, Marga's estranged mother instinctively knew when her daughter's conduct was a sham, a pre tense that was filled with posturing. But they shared the same blood as her, something therefore bound them together, connected them. How Mez could tell performance from actuality was still unknown to her. Even back when he was no more to her than a possible fling, someone to waste a few hours with between the sheets, to escape from reality for a short while before she had to head back to the Armada and deal with a bunch of arseholes who gave her the absolute minimum respect they could get away with without receiving any punishment, Mez had been able to call her out on her shit. When she'd entered that bar all that time ago and clocked Mez standing near the bar nursing a drink, she had sauntered over to the handsome stranger, full of cockiness and confidence, her seductrice mask had just automatically fallen into place. Seduction was a game and Marga always won. Seduction was about manipulation and control. Seduction was power. And then that bastard had seen right through her facade and knocked her whole world off its axis. Suddenly it was a situation that Marga couldn't control, where there were unknowns that she couldn't anticipate. Suddenly she was unsure of herself. The feeling had blind-sided her then, and it had the exact same effect on her now.

Uncertainty got you killed. Uncertainty made you vulnerable. Uncertainty led to failure. It was an emotion Marga couldn't afford. She had fought tooth and nail for her position in the Armada and she knew that all it would take was one slight crack in her metaphorical armour and it would all be wrenched from her grasp. She worked with thugs, ruffians and murderers. If she gave in to them even a single inch, they would see her as a weak link. Weak links were disposed of - or worse. Yes, Marga knew there were worse things that could happen to her than death or mutiny at the hands of the outfit of pirates. And hence the need for her mask and if she had to be perceived as a bitch to maintain it, so be it. Until she had met Mez, Marga had been positive that her mask was flawless. With the exception of family, no one had ever seen through it before. It had taken her several weeks to realise that instead of annoyance at having been found out, what she actually felt was pleased. The ramifications of that self-discovery was what had eventually sent her right back to Mez.

Standing just inside of the Navy shuttle, Marga ground her thoughts to a halt. Her mind had a strong tendency to wonder, her emotions getting the better of her. But now wasn't the time to reminisce on such things. Marga had a decision to make. With the astroid field closing in on them within the next thirty seconds, the thief knew she didn't have the necessary piloting skills to make a successful getaway without being torn to shreds. As Marga eyed the umbilical tunnel, her attention was caught by the only unopened locker on the other side of the Lone Star's docking entrance.

Locked. Marga liked things that were locked. It meant someone had taken the time to place something they valued into the locker, box, vault, etc to keep it safe. People regarded items differently - as they said, one man's rubbish is another man's gold. Marga felt a familiar tingle starting at the tips of her long, slender fingers. The more she pondered the mystery that was the Lone Star, she further up her hands and arms the sensation traveled. Locked. In its essence, the dreadnought was one massive locked box… And Marga had never been able to resist peeking inside a locked box. So, despite her reservations, the thief turned back to where she had spied a set of naval issue environmental suits, quickly slid into it, placed the helmet over her head, grabbed a pair of small laser-beam guns, then turned and put one foot in front of the other and walked down the connecting tunnel and stepped into the Lone Star.

[User]
Farvis opened the storage locker and grabbed a shotgun and several extra rounds, then put on a space suit and comm system from the same locker. The medical suit he was wearing could withstand the pressure change and had its own air processing system, but it lacked the ability to heat itself, making it of limited use as a space suit. He activated the force field helmet on his medical suit for extra protection and made his way across the umbilical. He was contemplating how to get the inner hatch open when someone decided to just melt the hinges with a plasma weapon. "Are you just going to keep melting through every locked door?" he asked. "We need to equalize pressure in here. Not all of us can survive indefinitely in the vacuum of space, you know. Everyone needs to get inside so that we can reseal the door behind us, probably by welding in in place with more plasma fire."

He entered the room they had just blown there way into, pushing his way past the others if he had to, and went over to the only locker that hadn't been ransacked yet, probably because of the damage to it. To get it open, though, he was going to have to damage it even more. Hopefully it was built like most lockers, and only made of thin metal, otherwise this would hurt.

He increased his adrenaline level to Alpha-state levels and punched the center of the locker door. Hopefully the door would bend enough to break whatever minor welding the heat damage had caused and break the locker open.

[Assistant] As soon as Farvis's hand slammed through the thin metal door of the locker he felt sharp claws grabbing at his wrist, cutting easily through his space suit but catching on his sterile suit beneath. Luckily the added protection from the outer armour was enough to prevent any worse damage, but he could still feel the sharp tine sawing its way through the nano-tube reinforced material far more quickly than a conventional blade should be able to.

[User]
Jemini had the good sense to stay quiet as the Syndarin mentally screamed in her head as she worked desperately to open the door. Her emotions were playing too much with the adrenaline she depended on to stay calm and cool in high tense situations such as this, though usually she had a team behind her back that she could trust and she often had the blessing of being blissfully unaware of the true precariousness of her situations.

Unfortunately the misfits Sevyn had found herself with had no respect or no knowledge of how ships were constructed (at least the mercenaries asked her first if it was safe to blow something up), were too focused on baiting and antagonizing each other rather than focusing on the mission (at least the mercenaries she was with waited until after the job was done), psychopathic killers (at least the mercen... well okay her people were essentially a race of repressed psychopaths so she didn't really have anything to counter for this one), or some ungodly combination of all three.

She also added "sticking hands into places they shouldn't be" to the list, judging from the sounds behind her, though she admitted that she fell amazingly well into that category.

The pilot announcing that he had to leave soon and fast did nothing to help Sevyn's nerves, pounding at the impossible door once in frustration. The nearby console beeped on almost immediately after. Sevyn briefly entertained the possibly of her being capable of great and powerful technomagic before jumping onto the console and began working furiously to activate the manual override. Unfortunately the flashy user-friendly interface shut down the moment the Syndarin touched the screen which made her think of what terrible gifts she was now in control of before the screen rebooted back on, only to now show the base code.

The language the code was written in had been cutting edge when the Lone Star was first built, written specifically for it if Sevyn remembered correctly, and it was so impossibly difficult to work with that it was never released to the general public. In fact it still wasn't, and is only used in the most top of the line military software. Of course that didn't stop Sevyn from getting her grubby little hands on it and while programming certainly wasn't her best skill, she sure as hell didn't want to be blown out of the airlock.

Although, perhaps it didn't bode well when Sevyn realized she still had trouble working with the code and she didn't exactly know what she was manually overriding.

[Assistant] A grinding howl echoed through the shuttle and the status board lit up with warnings as Felix swore loudly into his mike. "Oh shit! Whatever you guys are doing you'd better hurry up. One of the big rocks just grazed my starboard engine pod and almost killed us all!"

[User]
Marga walked passed Farvis as he approached the locker that looked welded shut. As curious as she was to its contents, she figured she'd let Farvis take the risk of opening it. Then if she liked what was inside, she'd just take it - well, eventually anyway.

The special environmental suit she had taken from the shuttle felt strange on her person. Unused to wearing such things as they tended to slow one down and limit one's abilities, Marga hoped there would be enough power left in the ship to enable them to activate the basic life support functions. She did note however, that the grip the suit allowed her to maintain on the floor was a point in its favour. The thief was quietly adjusting her small taser gun onto the outside of her suit and pondering how they were going to get the Gygan inside the Lone Star with them when she spotted the Syndarian who had introduced herself as Seyvn Spades standing in front of a console clearly meant for opening the next door. Having preformed a bit of work in that neck of the woods before, Marga had heard of Sevyn's impressive reputation as a pilot and made a mental note to ask for some pointers from her once this was all over. For now though, Marga knew there were more pressing matters to attend to - like the fact that they were all about to become space mush in under thirty seconds if they didn't open the aforementioned door.

"Not to brag, but codes, algorithms and cracking them are sort of my thing, love," Marga said, coming to stand next to the Syndarian. "Right, let's see what we're dealing with."

[Assistant]
Farvis felt something cut through the wrist of his space suit at rub against the wrist of his medical suit. In the slowed down time of Alpha state he was able to pull his hand out before it could do anything more. He then drew his shotgun and fired three times into the hole, the motion of the shotgun taking him several seconds to pump the next shell into the firing chamber as he perceived it. After he fired it he pulled himself out of the Alpha state so that he wouldn't wear himself out any more, abut kept the gun trained on the hole.

"Something's in there." he said, "It felt like some creature tried to cut my hand off."