Warhammer 40k The Gilded Razors
<h1 id="title">Elliquiy Role Playing Forums</h1>
		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Bondage, D/s, S&amp;M =&gt; Bondage: Exotic Small Groups =&gt; Topic started by: Ironwolf85 on 31-03-2015, 06:48:08</h2>
		<dl id="posts">
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Warhammer 40k The Gilded Razors</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ironwolf85</strong> on <strong>31-03-2015, 06:48:08</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				(in exotic because there are non-human creatures in 40k)<br><span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size"><em>Welcome to Skjor 6, a nice little out of the way backwater imperial planet in the Periphery Sub-sector. To call the locals Corrupted by chaos would be erroneous, this world's governer used to bend knee to The Cartel a large smuggling and black market group operating in the nearby Scarus and Calixis sectors. On the very edge of wilderness space. To say the worshipers of chaos were <span class="bbc_u">among</span> them would be a given, hidden shrines to nurgle in a waste plant, chaos relics changing hands in black markets, the masquerade of slannesh dancing among the nobility... You are one of these various personages known to the ruinous powers. Sadly life has not been going well for you, the past month the planet has seen an ork WAAAGH fall from the sky. The first thing the greenskins hit was the spaceport and it's lifters along with the planetary defense guns. So here you sit, in a small nearly abandoned factory-fortress with other worshipers of the dark gods, tribals, villagers, and a few remaining PDF forces of this or that noble house.<br>It's not much, but maybe Where there is death and destruction, there is also opportunity.... if you play your cards right... you and the other worshipers thrown together amidst the green tide can reclaim your places with the dark gods.<br>First things first, before glory and ascendance, you need to survive the orks and get a ship.<br>&nbsp;<br></em></span><br><br><em><span style="font-size: 10pt;" class="bbc_size">"I'z Don't know what Youz been told Stormboy Mobs is mighty bold, we'z is droppin from da sky, you iz not believe yer eyes!"</span></em><br>The walls of the trade post ring out with the fire from heavy bolters. The private forces of the local merchant houses snap off shots here and there, or at least the ones who are left. About fifty men and automated bolters holding back a green tide of thousands storming out of the jungles and into the city with a mighty WAAAGH. It isn't long before an ork with a crudely built jetpack ruins things. Slamming into one of the cabled mess of generators and logic engines exploding in a mess of gore and causing malfunctions. Maljor one of the local nobility is trying to lead the failing defenders.<br>Members of the imperial cult huddle in the chapel off the town square. Former safehouses for the faithful of the chaos cults have become impromptu bunkers and shrines of desperation turning to darker worship.<br><br>In one such safehouse a group plans their escape from the ork infested world. But between them and their escape is the lesser warboss SkyKrusha, and his warband full of storm boyz who have swept into the hab block between the market, founderies, and the starport.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Warhammer 40k The Gilded Razors</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Morganatic</strong> on <strong>01-04-2015, 01:00:58</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				A charge fills the air in the bunker. It’s no sorcery, no warp magic, no remnant of the Daemonic echoing back from some darker future - nothing so gauche as that. It’s all too human. Bad breath, hope, fear, sweat - all shot through with a mad vein of excitement, of thrilling rumour that <em>something</em> is about to be done, some mad, glorious, warp-blessed Charge of the Dark Brigade through the greenskin lines to the spaceport. The tension in the overcrowded hallways of Bulwark Taliwa is palpable, with the unsettling instability of contact explosive, but some lingering sense of solidarity, camaraderie, and social reserve is keeping it from boiling over. For now.<br><br>The thing calling itself Azhi Dahāka moves between them - around, under, through, and over this heaving, impenetrable matrix of scared trapped flesh - like a bead of quicksilver trapped under glass, darting through gaps far too narrow for other humans to slip through, zir physically - and ontologically ravaged form making it easy to move through them at angles only approximately describable in three dimensional space. Many of zir kind - those truly touched by the Pantheon, and by Chaos Unshattered - would see such a concentration of vulnerable humanity as a slaughterhouse, a bounty of skulls to be harvested and fear to drink in - but not zir. Zie only feels a kind of worried remorse for them - those seeking help from fickle gods and their fickler champions, those who don’t yet have the gifts and blessings zie possesses, who’ll never live to blossom as they should. Zie only feels remorse - well, remorse, and hunger.<br><br>They don’t have what zie’s looking for. Their bodies are given life by souls too warm and diffuse for zir to grasp properly, and if they’re desperate enough to come running here for aid, then the belongings they carry won’t provide adequate nutrition for zir, not enough to keep body and soul intertwined. Zie needs to move on.<br><br>There is something here, though. Something alive, some faint demigod-in-the-machine is flickering weakly down in the bowels of the Bulwark, and it draws Azhi towards it in lazily circling arcs. Down here - amongst rotting metal and stagnating water - the press of bodies isn’t quite as intense, and zie can’t rely on the anonymity of the crowd to divert attention any more. Ziie pulls up the hood of zir robe, hoping to pass as a low-level drudge or technomat - a red robe’s a red robe, right, and people hardly ever look under the hood? - and presses deeper into the bunker. There’s someone - more than one person, in fact - down there. Well-armed, by the spoor of the machine spirits of their gear - and touched by the warp. Good. This world was seeming a little lonely.<br><br>Azhi’s not precisely the most stealthy person. Zie’s got no commando training, and zir limbs have got a little too heavy, stiff, and, let’s face it, metallic, to creep upon anyone. But zie does have experience in looking innocuous, unthreatening, the sort of lowly labourer - little more than a servitor - that people tend not to bat an eye at zir. And so - not quietly, precisely, but certainly inconspicuously, zie begins to slowly limp towards the group of fellow devotees of Chaos meeting down in the depths of Bulwark Taliwa, hoping to get some sense of who they are before zie strikes.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Warhammer 40k The Gilded Razors</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>HairyHeretic</strong> on <strong>04-04-2015, 14:18:39</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Sevatar sat quietly in one corner of the bunker, ignoring the majority of what was going on around him, filtering for any possible threats but otherwise ignoring the background noise as he studied his dataslate. He hadn't been able to crack the encrypted files yet, but it gave him something to occupy his mind while he processed variables for the current situation.<br><br>The military situation looked untenable, so escape and evasion would be the order of the day. Evading the xenos through the ruins of the town would be a short term solution at best. Long term getting offworld was the optimal solution, but that required a ship that was warp capable and the means to get to it.<br><br>First priority. Establish if there are still warp capable craft in orbit. That meant getting to the port and checking the cogitator records to see what might still be in orbit. His own ships protocols would have sent them to hide as soon as the xenos appeared. If they had not been destroyed they should still be there.<br><br>Second priority. Locate a craft with orbital capability to get to the ship. The port may still have some functional, but by now it's possible the xenos will have destroyed or looted those. Some of the nobility are likely to have personal craft. Access planetary data nets to search for stories listing potential targets. Check port cogitator records for flight plans and clearances.<br><br>Third priority. Communication with orbitals. Co-ordinate a pickup.<br><br>He gave a small smile, setting the datapad aside to check his weapons. Xenos night vision was no better than his own, and their stealth capabilities markedly inferior. It would be better to move after dark. He would use the intervening time to locate mission assets.<br><br>He stood up, making a show of stretching and looked around the room. There .. that was a distinct possibility.<br><br>He crossed the room towards the robed figure, coming to a halt a few paces from them, and interlacing his knuckles in the cogwheel gesture that Mechanicus used in place of the Aquila. "Honoured Adept." he said in greeting. "I wonder if I might have a few moments of your time to discuss something which I believe may be of mutual interest."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Warhammer 40k The Gilded Razors</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>JoanieSappho</strong> on <strong>06-04-2015, 12:09:41</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Stealth was, many would agree, quite possibly the only asset the ratlings had. Add to her natural small size the experience gained in the Imperial Guard and in her other activities, and Becca was more than able to avoid sight, even in the tight confines she now found herself in. <br><br>While the Guard had been an excellent place to begin her dabblings and a source of humans to slowly corrupt, the ork invasion had derailed those plans quite thoroughly, and Becca had needed some time to sit back and begin planning again. <br>Obviously, the Guard was out of the question now. Attempting toregroup with what little forces remained would simply result in her death, and she had no interest in dying in the service of a human corpse light years away. The orks themselves were more a force of nature than a group of beings who could be negotiated with or tempted, and now that they had firmly entrenched themselves on this planet, the whole place was unsuitable for her. Clearly, the best immediate plan was flight, using the chaos before the orks completely secured the planet to leave with whatever she could get her hands on on the way out. <br>Her assets, for the moment, were low. A bunker full of useless humans, and her weapons. Still, perhaps she could convince the humans to throw themselves at the orks to distract them while she left.<br><br>Or, perhaps, some of them were more useful than they first appeared.<br>The ratling watched silently, little more than a tiny shadow in the corner as one of the humans stood and bean talking to a red-robed figure who seemed just a little too innocuous. Absently, she licked her lips, frowning slightly at the faint metallic taste on them.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Warhammer 40k The Gilded Razors</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Morganatic</strong> on <strong>06-04-2015, 21:49:51</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Azhi emits a sound that's something between a snort, a laugh, and a gunshot.<br><br>'Honoured Adept?'<br><br>It fits, has a nice ring to it. Zie likes the idea of it, rolling the title around in zir head, a little like you'd fondly look back to a half-remembered childhood - all gold-limned nostalgia and simpler times gone by. But it's been a very, very long time since Azhi Dahāka, slave of the Dark Gods, honoured bearer of the Obliterator-א, shepherd of machine spirits, behaved in any way deserving of 'honour'. Zie was never particularly 'adept' either, for that matter.<br><br>One hand snakes its way out of an over-sized acid-bitten sleeve, and waves feebly, dispelling the foul air of the bunker and the vile obeisances of the Machine Predator with equal disgust.<br><br>'That's a nice title. But not one that suits me, I think. <br><br>'Let's cut the pretension, though; what's the world coming to when two kindred souls can't talk to each other? My ears <em>ring </em>when I look at you, and I think I know what that means. I think I know why you're here, too, and you'd be right to think I'm here for the same reason, though, what with all the fucking greenskins outside -'<br><br>A rare moment of heat, of choler, of passion. Azhi's ordinary faintly dream-like voice and bearing stiffen and convulse, as something angry and ugly uncoils within her.<br><br>'- I guess that doesn't make you a savant. So, yes, you may have a few moments of my time, but you may as well not bother - the answer's yes. Yes, I will.<br><br>'But first ... I'm hungry. Just getting here - getting out of the crash-site, out of the ruins of my mothe- er, getting past the Ork blockade took a lot out of me, and I won't even be the semblance of the adept you so kindly view me as if I can't fill myself back up again. Something - something with a spirit in it. Cogitator, groundcar ... Throne, a laspistol would do in a pinch - so I'd say that's priority, as far as I'm concerned. I'm Azhi, by the way.'<br><br>The hand emerges out from its sleeve again, with all the disquieting fidgeting motion of an insect crawling out a burrow, and zie holds it out for this strangely confident man to shake. Azhi's not really sure what the correct greeting, name-exchange, or contract ritual is for people who haven't spent their entire lives in a six-thousand year old incestuous and closed shipboard society, but zie's got the impression that this is the way ground-dwellers usually do it.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Warhammer 40k The Gilded Razors</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Urbanzorro</strong> on <strong>09-04-2015, 09:52:40</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Anyone listening closely would be able to hear the echos of four men speaking, and arguing, with one another, the sounds of their voices growing slightly with each moment as they closed the distance. <br><br>"I still say you should have let me take Weer's shotgun." <br><br>"And what would you have done when it ran out of ammo Hans? Spit at the Orks?" <br><br>"Ok, so what do we do now?"<br><br>"I say we head in the opposite direction of the greenskins."<br><br>"The starport is in the direction of the greenskin's, Lambert. If we head away from them we head away from our only way off the planet. What we need is a way to the starport and th..." <br><br>As quickly as they had become audible the voices faded away, their owners having spotted something that caused them to go quiet. Replaced by the sound of slow footfalls, from the shadows Orin slowly stepped out. His eyes darting from one person to the next. Despite the logical choice being to assume them to be hostile Orin couldn't help but feel he and the men following him and found fellow devotees of Chaos. It was as if a small voice inside him whispered it to him. Without questioning in Orin continued towards them. <br><br>"You looking to get off planet too?" he asked
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Warhammer 40k The Gilded Razors</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>JoanieSappho</strong> on <strong>09-04-2015, 12:48:42</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"I think everyone is," a low, light female voice responds as Becca finally reveals herself, stepping forwards from her hiding place with her arms crossed over her large chest. <br><br>She smiles faintly as she looks up at Orin, before turning her attention to the matter at hand.<br>"Of course, you were right just now; The Orks are in a rather inconvenient position for us. If we want to leave here, we'll have to do something about that, and that'll require a certain amount of risk." Her dark eyes narrow as she glances up at the original two occupants of the room. "And, perhaps more dangerously, trust, at least for now. We all have our suspicions about each other, don't we? But we can wait until we're away from here before we deal with that."<br><br>Pausing, the ratling directs a smirk and a sideways glance up at Orin. "I hope you enjoyed that book I left for you." She comments, apparently at random.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Warhammer 40k The Gilded Razors</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>HairyHeretic</strong> on <strong>09-04-2015, 23:55:06</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Sevatar's head turned to mark each of the new arrivals, mentally cataloging potential strengths and weaknesses that they could bring to his plan. He took the proferred hand and shook it cordially before speaking. "Regretably I do not believe that I can provide the sustenance you require. The only thing I have that might suffice is an encrupted datapad, and until I can crack the encryption and learn it's secrets, then I must keep it's machine spirit intact." He paused and cocked his head slightly at the robed Azhi. "Of course, if you were able to learn the secrets it holds, then I would have no further requirement for it."<br><br>With that he turned slightly to address the newcomers. "I suspect that anyone who wishes to claim they are a sentient being has no wish to share a planet with these particular xenos. Yes, I wish to leave this planet. I already have some ideas of how that could be accomplished. I, however, do not have all of what I believe will be the required skills to make that plan a reality. Anyone who is able to assist, who has skills that they can contribute, is welcome to share in the attempt. Success will see us all away from here, assuming everything goes to plan."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Warhammer 40k The Gilded Razors</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Morganatic</strong> on <strong>11-04-2015, 01:44:52</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Zie grunts again, but the noise <em>rasps</em> a little more now; there's something a little more guttural to it, something caught in the throat sounding like a Chimera with a busted catalytic unit. <br><br>'I didn't catch your name - or yours, ma'am, or any of your, er, platoon, is that the word? I've never had cause to cross paths with the local PDF before. But no matter. We do need to get off planet, and that's our priority - but even fully fed, I could only do so much to escape even if we had a ship under our command. Even if every single one of us was a Mars-trained Archmagos, we couldn't do it alone - Mr Mysterious over here is right, it's only by letting our talents run together, by surrendering ourselves to the Flow of common purpose, that we'll have any chance of getting out of here, and even then, we'll need to make sure we'd be joining our efforts to those of a crew and an aether-worthy Spirit.'<br><br>Azhi slowly turns, taking in the others without really <em>looking</em> at them.<br><br>'I made planetfall less than twenty hours ago in a burning shard of voidcruiser. This is my first exposure to terrestrial gravity, and I don't really like it. Basically, what I'm saying is that my knowledge of this planet amounts to jack shit. But what I do know is that one of our first priorities needs to be locating surface-to-orbit communications, and seeing if there even is any Spirit up there that's willing to offer us aid. While we're doing that, we'd ideally want to avoid drawing more Orks to our position. That, and gathering any further expertise and personnel that'd be useful bonded to our cause. And finding something to eat. I am not joking when I say I won't be any use to you on an empty stomach, and it's not the kind of thing I can necessarily control in extremis.<br><br>Zie paces, grimacing slightly at even the thought of food. Mentioning it was a mistake - zie'd tuned it out, shifting it slowly to the blind spot of zir mental focus, but even off-handedly discussing it has caused it to surface, swimming up out of the depths of zir subconscious like some benthic predator.<br><br>'And ... oh, to the Eye with it. You talk about the need for trust, despite the risks. I agree. It's pointless&nbsp; dancing round the topic - I <em>know</em> what you all are. Before we head out, I'd like for us to offer up a minute in prayer - to our Patrons. I know what you are - but I'd like to hear you <em>say</em> it.'<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Warhammer 40k The Gilded Razors</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>JoanieSappho</strong> on <strong>11-04-2015, 09:03:14</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"It's a pity we can only offer up our words in this forsaken hole," Becca responds, her soft, light voice and innocent features now in complete contrast to the gleam in her dark eyes as she looks Azhi's robed form over hungrily, her small lips lifting into a wicked smirk that brings out the dimples on her cherubic face. <br>For a moment, her eyes roam over the forms of Orin's soldiers and she sighs.<br><br>"It's a pity that we have to remain hidden from the livestock around us," she murmurs. "Oh, what I could do ..." <br>Licking her lips, she turns back to Azhi. "But I agree. Although my rites are silent or loud, I suppose I can settle for something inbetween for now. Let my lord and lady watch over our struggles, and may we share in the sweetest of rewards and most exquisite of agonies. You wanted to hear the name of my patron?" Dark curls spilling from her face, the tiny woman with the face of an angel looks up into hood of Azhi's cloak, small, delicate lips parting sensuously, her soft voice simultaneously full of innocent sweetness and experienced seduction as she speaks, her tongue caressing the name of her god. "Slaanesh lead us to perfection."<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Warhammer 40k The Gilded Razors</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ironwolf85</strong> on <strong>11-04-2015, 16:20:20</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<em>The sounds of ragged battles in the streets above thunder, the slaves of the corpse emperor, for all their ignorance. Prove worthy fodder against the greenskin tide. But as the explosion rings out, One of the worshipers within the shrine unfolds a holographic display. With the others gathering around crowding the pungent scent of decay as they grew near. It's not an exact readout, but as the slides click into place the work thrall's cogitator analyzes as best it can and provides images.<br>"That would be the guns in the square, with the generator lost we have maybe a few hours before we have to make a move."<br>"I'd rather it be before then" says the leader of the group of cultists. he points to a few places on the map. "we hit them here, and here. Surge out of the sewer from multiple exits at once. Some will die by khorne's glory, the others will live to slaughter another day" one of the cultists begins to speak only for the leader in his red mask to backhand him hard enough to snap his frail neck "my will is khorne's will, and if we are to slaughter then we must first escape being slaughtered ourselves."<br>through the bravado to the other group, it's apparent that he's trying not to get killed, and most likely plans on using his cultists as fodder to draw off the orcs. He plans to move at nightfall to help his chances.<br>Night is approaching</em>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Warhammer 40k The Gilded Razors</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>HairyHeretic</strong> on <strong>11-04-2015, 23:10:01</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"Names, in the wrong hands, can be dangerous things." Sevatar said. "They can also be changed as easily as clothing. However, since we do need to at least be able to address each other, you may call me Druss. It's the name I gave to some former associates, before they found they no longer needed it." He gave a thin smile as he looked at the others. "As for patrons, I have none at present." He gave a small shrug. "I like to keep plenty of options available."<br><br>He looked around the group, his gaze settling on the Adept. He blinked once or twice, evaluating options before making his decision and held the encrypted datapad out. "While I would prefer the files salvaged first, I will understand if that is not possible." he said. "They contain information on certain xenos tech-artifacts that recently came into my possession. I was here to pick them up anyway, but my associates did not survive the greenskins initial assault." He shrugged again. "Hence I find myself in the position of an unexpected trove of xenotech, but little clue as to what it is, or can do."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Warhammer 40k The Gilded Razors</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Urbanzorro</strong> on <strong>16-04-2015, 07:07:02</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Becca's mentioning of his book had caught Orin by surprise, so much so that he wasn't able to muster a response to her question. And rather was only able to look on dumbly as the others talked. After a few moments he regained his focus, just as the others spoke up in response to Azhi's request for a statement of allegiance, which he had to admit was an understandable request. In truth part of him had been worried that the others were not fellow worshipers of Chaos, that is until they spoke of their own connections to The Dark Gods.<br><br>In turn Orin spoke for himself and his men "I'm Orin." He said "Formerly of the Imperial Guard... Now in faithful service to the Gods of Chaos...all the Gods of Chaos. My men have also been blessed to see the glory of Chaos, though I cannot speak for who they have chosen as their own patro....."<br><br>His sentence was cut short by the words of the cult leader, the man's voice easily reaching through the bunker to Orin and his fellows. Once the man's plan had become clear a sly smile crossed Orin's face "You know....we could just let that guy and his followers distract the orks for us." 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Warhammer 40k The Gilded Razors</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>HairyHeretic</strong> on <strong>24-04-2015, 23:56:56</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Sevatar nodded, frowning slightly at the outburst. "We might. Orks tend to react to violence with more violence, and they will be drawn to any fighting . Unless their numbers are severely whittled down, they will continue to fight on. I suspect those two groups encountering each other will be very loud and cease only when one or the other is effectively destroyed." He glanced around at the others. <br><br>"However, if they are so willing to provide us with a distraction, it would be impolite of us not to make use of it. If we move quickly and stealthily, we should be able to avoid any greenskins heading towards the fighting. Once beyond their lines, we should be able to move faster, though I would still prefer to avoid going above ground if we can help it." He looked around at the others. "I do not suppose that any of you have any maps of the undercity, or whatever sewers or tunnels run beneath the streets?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Warhammer 40k The Gilded Razors</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ironwolf85</strong> on <strong>27-04-2015, 08:21:25</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The glowing holomap that the cultist had produced, may have included a map of the undercity. The biggest problem they had was getting it from the fanatics.<br>On one hand they could have taken it by force, but that would be a fight, and then there would be fewer madmen to distract the orks.<br><br>They were armed with mostly hand to hand weapons and a few auto-pistols. The cult leader had managed to scrounge himself up a chainsword.<br><br>They would have to get the map from the group... which would not be easy.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Warhammer 40k The Gilded Razors</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>HairyHeretic</strong> on <strong>11-05-2015, 13:56:53</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Sevatar noted the glowing holomap, though he could not tell much in the way of detail from this distance. <em>Taking it from their corpses would be the easiest option, but those corpses would like be found amidst a pile of Orks, and there was no guarantee that they would all be dead.</em> he thought. <em>I suppose we could always follow them out and shoot him in the back of the head once they engage. As long as the group they encounter is small enough ... and with Orks that's a chancy prospect.</em><br><br><em>They're unlikely to care about trading it, though if I had sufficiently powerful weaponry they might.</em> He idly considered offering them one of the xenostech items. <em>No, they'd want to test it first, and I don't know enough to bluff them through.</em><br><br>He turned towards Azhi and spoke softly. "I don't suppose that you have a noospheric interface amongst your talents, do you?"<br><br><div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">OOC</div><div class="spoiler_body">Noospheric communication is basically techpriest wireless access. They don't need to physically connect to a device to transfer data.</div></div>
			</dd>
		</dl>
		<div id="footer" class="smalltext">
			
			<span class="smalltext" style="display: inline; visibility: visible; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif;"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?action=credits" title="Simple Machines Forum" target="_blank" class="new_win">SMF 2.0.19</a> |
 <a href="https://www.simplemachines.org/about/smf/license.php" title="License" target="_blank" class="new_win">SMF © 2021</a>, <a href="https://www.simplemachines.org" title="Simple Machines" target="_blank" class="new_win">Simple Machines</a>
			</span>
		</div>