To Plunder The Stars Themselves, Episode III

[Beren]

Kill the targets. Loot their supplies. Withdraw.

 

It was almost like being home again. Except that home had been an ever switching assembly of rooms barely capable of holding atmosphere. Ready to be abandoned at any moment. Lose your supplies? Plunder more. Survive. Claim vengeance, or at least that was what is brothers fought for. In Svelk's opinion, that part had never really mattered. He supposed that was why he was here and not there. Still, at least they had known each other.

 

Two battles, and he still wasn't sure how much he knew the others. It seemed that the Traveller would likely be gone soon anyway.

 

The there was this place, now a fortress. If enemies came here, Svelk wasn't sure Varn would be willing to run. There was something about that which grated in Svelk's mind. Survive. Survive the ever hungry void, the ever hungry planets. But Vaarn, the fortresses he built, the Pride of Kings which he hunted. He was after something more than survival.

 

Not that it really matters. The Emperor itself, if it's real, would be nothing more than a speck against its hunger. Wealth, pride, constructs. There was an image, buried in the back of Svelk's mind. The Ring, glittering with the lights of a hundred ships being built, vast and magnificent. The orb below that sustained and fed it. Until the reavers came, tore it into ruin, sent flesh and ship corpses alike tumbling into its embrace. 

 

Survival. That was all that mattered. Yet, one could not survive it alone. That was why he was here after all.

 

Svelk's thoughts are interrupted by a vast crash, then another, and another. Varn, the other Iron Gods... beating their chests in unison.

 

Why?

Edited January 2, 2022 by Beren

[A.T.]

Nothing wasted, Odysseus could not fault the efficiency of the operation. The sisters had been content to spend such resources to guard nothing - a convent amongst the ice with no purpose, and clearly no defensive value to the planet. That which was wasted here could be put to better use.

 

Still their ability to withstand his power, even short-lived, troubled him. Reliance on others was a weakness he sought to shed... had Varns intent in sending him here been to challenge such thoughts? The time to answer such questions would come but first he must be sure he was prepared, and his mind turned again to the blackstone he had sequestered and plans of its application.

[Lysimachus]

At Varn's words, there is another roar of approval from the Astartes around you, another din of hammering. There is no pretense, no fakery discernable in their bearing or tone. Perhaps there should be no surprise in this. After all, you have brought these warriors with what they need to keep fighting for many months. You have given them life. Their master's next words confirm it. He holds his hands up to take in the whole gathering and speaks in a softer tone.

 

"I did not order any of these men to be here. Each one of us chose it for ourselves. Whatever the great and mighty 'Imperium' may think of us, we understand honour. You have fought and bled on our behalf. We see it, we acknowledge it, and we offer our thanks and our word in return. Strength for strength, blood for blood, loyalty for loyalty... though I fear each of those bonds will be tested in the days that are coming."

 

He pauses for a fraction of a second only. It is an odd moment, to see Talek Varn himself distracted, concerned. Even worried? But it passes quickly, replaced by his usual forceful confidence.

 

"But first..." he continues, "step forward, Traveller. Mister Holger has told me how you have led this mission with skill and courage. You know I would have you join our brotherhood. I have made no secret of it. But if you wish to do so, it is time to leave behind your quest for vengeance and give yourself fully to a new purpose. I hope that you might be willing, might be able, to do so..." he smiles inscrutably "...but I suspect that hope, as it so often is, is simply the first step on the road to disappointment."

 

***

[Commissar Molotov]

The Traveller takes a step forward, separating himself from the other Astartes that fought on Viorda. Each of them were gifted killers, hardened and tempered by an uncaring universe. Some of them might even be called honourable warriors.

 

They were a pale echo of the brotherhood that he yearned for. But perhaps such a half-life might be enough; might stave off the emptiness that gnawed at his heart.

 

Somewhere in the depths of his mind he heard a half-remembered ode; a fragmentary echo of a life once lived.

 

Two roads diverged;

I could not travel both

and be one traveller..

 

"My path leads elsewhere," he says, his voice echoing around the chamber. "I have kept my end of the bargain between us, and now I ask that you do the same. My craft, and supplies for my journey."

[Machine God]

~"Well said Stormshroud" thought Draak. So who will fill the power vacuum? Orphiel the Swordsman or Brynjarr? Or another...~

[Lysimachus]

Varn shares a long look with his psychic advisor, then nods.

 

"A pity, but done. Everyone here is with us by their own choice, and I would not take that from any man. You have earned your payment and I wish you well in your quest."

 

He smiles thoughtfully.

 

"But Degier here is convinced that your path will cross with the Iron Gods' again. I have seen his... predictions... proven true too many times, so I cannot believe this is the end. Until the day we might meet again, I have only one piece of advice, which you are free to take as you will. Beware your rage. Anger is a tool, a useful one to the Astartes. But if you allow it to become your only guide, it will master you and you will be a slave. Do not let anyone - man or god - rob you of your freedom."

 

Varn turns to the rest of Kill-Team Cutlass, and to all the gathered Space Marines, his voice rising.

 

"The same is true for all of you. You are masters of your own destinies. If you wish it, you may leave and go wherever you will. But if you are with me, now is the time to rest, to ready yourselves for the trials that are to come. The greatest prize the Iron Gods have ever sought is within reach, and we will take it! Blood and glory!"

 

***

 

The end of Episode 2: "The Pride of Kings."

 

All Characters gain 2000XP.

 

The Iron Gods will return in 'To Plunder the Stars Themselves' Episode Three: "Heralds of a New Dawn."

 

 

 

Edit: Although I've officially ended the Ep, please still feel free to add any posts you wish with your character's closing thoughts, etc...

[Machine God]

Even though his forebears were all steeped in tradition and logic, Draak had learnt other ways to look at the things around him.

 

Draak had sensed that Orphiel was ill at ease, whilst Brynjarr was eager to help and to prove his place amongst The Iron Gods.

 

Later after Talek Varn had let The Traveller leave, Draak had sort out The Swordsman. He found him again in quiet contemplation, tending to his sword with whetstone and oils.

 

Draak was cautious as he approached. "I am sure that Brother Brynjarr only spoke in jest and meant nothing ulterior in telling me about... Matthias is it? So I won't persist in the asking."

 

"Do you seek to lead Squad Cutlass? Draak asked, as he drew his Combat Blade theatrically.

 

"A turn of the blade Brother?"

[Trokair]

The journey back to Elysium was tediously long and yet all too short. With ample supplies he had been able to repair his armour in full over the course of the journey, seeking assistance from the Techmarine when Ithan could spare the time. However so occupied he saw little of the others and in the now laden ship conditions where cramped and noisy.

 

---

 

It has been some hours since the celebration following their arrival back on Elysium, now there was space, and quiet, a luxury after the previous days on the Dagger Thrust. Wondering the stations he spoke to some of the others from squad Cutlass, and exchanged polite greeting with a few of the other Iron Gods previously unknown to him. It was a strange feeling, having brothers again, even if a few members of Cutlass where a bit stranger then he’d like. Then there were the other Iron Gods, they accept him as one of theirs now, and yet he did not know them.

 

After a while he found Orphiel and Draak engaged in a training bout. Most opportune, he had been meaning to have a word and not found the opportunity on the journey. It looked like it would be an interesting wait while the two concluded their test of skill.

Edited January 2, 2022 by Trokair

[Mazer Rackham]

The shuttle carrying the Traveller receded into the depths of Varn's new principality.  A strike of incandescent white matchlight as it accelerated, no doubt headed to the Mandeville Point.  He'd hardly had time to turn a word with the warrior, even less so a blade.  From his moderate experience, the burr burned under him, but Orphiel knew the reasons all too well.

 

"Vengeance burns a hole right through you.  You will never kill enough, or gamble enough, or imbibe enough rootwine to ever fill it."

 

The words were not his, but he had the antidote all the same.  His cousins in their asteroid home only knew the shame of it, the burning vendetta against betrayal, and that was fine, but the kin of his cloth knew the silence and strength of inner peace.

 

He was finally stirred from his ruminations by the tramp of a metal bastion masquerading as a man.  The tread sounded long down the hall, and Orphiel turned smoothly from the window, the Ironclad's heavy footsteps ceasing in their monotone cadence of inexorable march.

 

The Gunner was cautious, although what could provoke such a one as Draak to that state was...interesting.

 

"I am sure that Brother Brynjarr only spoke in jest and meant nothing ulterior in telling me about... Matthias is it? So I won't persist in the asking." the warrior didn't wait for an answer, thereby putting the matter to rest, at least in his own mind.  Orphiel would not disabuse him of the choice.

"Do you seek to lead Squad Cutlass?" Draak drew his Combat Blade theatrically, waving it about in the half-light of the room.

 

Orphiel said nothing, merely watching the display.  Again Draak filled the silence with his own conclusions.

"A turn of the blade Brother?"

 

Now that was something he could answer.  Wordlessly his palm slipped to Zachariah's Steel, and taking the blade in both hands, he saluted the Ironclad before allowing his robes to fall into stillness from the motion.

 

He advanced.

[Machine God]

Orphiel saluted him with his longsword and then he advanced.

 

Draak nodded to Orphiel but kept his combat blade out, he knew that Orphiel had the advantage.

 

Let him think that winning this bout is a foregone conclusion! mused Draak. Work to your advantages, yes he has the reach and a longer double-edged blade. You've seen him fight Radago, you know how quick he is. He cannot harm the armour so he will go for weak points.

 

Draak parried all of Orphiel's attacks but he was being pushed back, down the corridor.

 

"So do you seek to lead, or will you cede that role to Brynjarr?" asked Draak.

 

 

[Mazer Rackham]

Even though Orphiel was leveraging his reach and balance, Draak's guard with his combat knife was firm.  Whilst the defence was rote, learned as a Scout, the simple bladework kept a close shield of edged steel around his vulnerable flexsteel joints and abutting plates.

 

"So do you seek to lead, or will you cede that role to Brynjarr?"

 

Orpiel grunted, before taking a moment to recover from his cut and thrust.  He readied for a feint, looking to bring the duel to an end by over-extending the Devastator, but a shift in the Ironclad's hip warned him, the heavy Astartes plying his massive muscle power in a riot of powerful thrusts forward, going for elbow, knee and eyes.

 

Zachariah's Steel blocked the the ones that came closest, drawing sparks from the tip of the combat knife.

 

Ring, shing, ting, ressh.

 

And like that, Orphiel had lost ground, not even noticing the footwork that carried him over exposed cabling and loose metal floor tiles.  Draak had forced him back with a steady advance.  The knife came in again, aiming for the bridge of the Mk IV Maximus helm, but this time Orphiel reversed the sword in a blatantly obvious manoeuvre, gripping in both hands for a pommel strike.

 

The blow didn't land, Draak simply stepping back to dodge it, thereby taking the knife away from it's trajectory and giving Orphiel room to speak and react.

 

+Why Brother?  Are you testing for rivals?+

 

He didn't suspect that, but let the Ironclad speak to his own conviction.

Edited January 2, 2022 by Mazer Rackham

[Machine God]

"Why Brother? Are you testing for rivals?" Orphiel reposted verbally.

 

Draak had stepped back away from the obvious pommel strike attempt, although this had given Orpiel reaction space.

 

He's quick like you know! He dances with us, Scout rote is good, but we must close him down. He goes for the weak points, few though there are in a Mark adapted for frontal assault. But what's with the robes, what does he seek to hide?

 

"And why not? I've trained in your role, don't discount the Devastators!" replied Draak as he watched Orphiel's sword arm.

 

 

 

Edited December 20, 2022 by Machine God
Tidy up

[Mazer Rackham]

"And why not? I've trained in your role, don't discount the Devastators!"

 

The Ironclad poised, as balanced on his toes as his knife edge hovered expectantly, ready to lash out in riposte or slip into defence.  The confident warrior was letting more and more slip, the words tinged with something Orphiel wasn't sure of.  Perhaps the need of approval?  It would speak to the caution earlier.  Could Draak's brash nature be hiding a fear or failing?  Had he been overlooked for promotion before?  Was the incessant desire for efficiency borne by his heritage, or his desire?

 

+I do not,+ he finally answered, +but I wonder why you should think so.+

 

The rote defence had been taught that way for ten thousand years because it worked, but it was also safe.  Something to fall back on that worked no matter what.  It would be interesting to try and pry that open...he noticed Draak's bionic hand flex, the fingers trembling gently perhaps of their own accord.  Loosening up.  As Orphiel brought his blade across, feinting to try and prise the Ironclad from his shell, the arm lashed out, missing at first, but siezing the blade in a hurried snatch, catching the  flanged spear-like tip in his palm, wrenching, pulling.

 

Instead of fighting it, Orphiel followed the pull, stepping in close enough for the Devastator to lunge out for his abdomen.  Leaving the blade for his right hand to guide, Orphiel grasped Draak's stabbing arm at the wrist.  A test of strength briefly ensued.

 

Orphiel's position gave him a better view of the corridor, and it was here that he saw another figure lurking.  Astartes build and armour-faceted.  A large, broad slab across the shoulders told him who it was.  Abandoning the awkward clinch, he nodded in curt greeting to the Breacher, not willing to use the distraction to his advantage.  Perhaps sensing it, Draak released Zachariah's Steel.

 

Orphiel brought the blade up to the neutral position and stepped back, before saluting his opponent and slipping the blade home.

 

The Ironclad took a half turn, keeping Orphiel in sight, wisely suspecting a trick, but he too caught the shape lingering in the door, and relaxed.

 

+I thank you for an excellent bout, brother Draak.  If you wish to lead Cutlass, then nominate yourself and see where your rivals truly are.+

 

Keep him guessing.

 

Then folding his arms into the sleeves of his robe, he addressed the newcomer, a smile slipping through the vox.  +We seem to be popular this hour, or perhaps we are spoiling your view?+

Edited January 3, 2022 by Mazer Rackham

[Trokair]

“No, not at all, and it was not my intent to interrupted your sparring bout.”

 

Nodding to Draak in acknowledgment as he passed him Brynjarr approached Orphiel, reaching into one of the pouches attached to his belt as he does so.

 

“Your left this in my care, my apologies in not returning it earlier.”

 

Brynjarr holds out the Interrogator's Inferno Pistol, though to call it the Interrogator's still would do it injustice. Not only had it been polished and cleaned, the grip, trigger and ancillary mechanisms had been modified. No longer a mortal’s weapon, it would now fit an Astartes hand as if born to it.  

[Mazer Rackham]

Orphiel handled the Breacher's work.  It was a handy re-scribing of the design, as a pistoleer he could appreciate it, palm clasping the grip quite naturally.

 

+It settles well,+ he praised, +but a brace of pistols might make me too much a pirate.+  his grin added a slight cant to the discourse, before he turned the weapon around and passed it back, butt first to Brynjarr.

 

+This is a weapon fit for a worthy Astartes.  Maybe you should keep it my friend, for Rhino doors that resist your axe?+

 

His Maximus helm twisted to regard Draak before turning back to Brynjarr.

 

+Will you be vying for lead of Cutlass, brother?  Our comrade wants to know.+

[Machine God]

"I do not," Orphiel had finally answered, "but I wonder why you should think so."

Watch it, you're letting old thoughts guide your actions, mused Draak. Use your knowledge, the trick that you perfected as an Assault Marine - Sinister Disarm. Play to your strengths.

"Leaders are always Tacticals, that is what I have been told. I however do not believe that." said Draak.

Draak kept the wall of steel whilst watching The Swordsman's arm. Opportunity presented itself and on his second try, he grasped the longsword and pulled his opponent off balance as he went for a power cable cut.

However his actions had been read by Orphiel who grabbed his wrist, it was just a wrestling match then.

The discourse was interrupted by the arrival of Brynjarr, Orphiel disengaged and retreated to his portal.

"I thank you for an excellent bout, brother Draak. If you wish to lead Cutlass, then nominate yourself and see where your rivals truly are." offered Orphiel.

Truly this was an opportunity to lead, thought Draak. I shall grasp it! You were given the Honours but not the Armour, now in the Iron Gods you can shine if you. No, I want it!

"I shall do that, brother Orphiel" answered Draak. "Until our next bout."

 

 

Edited December 20, 2022 by Machine God
Tidy up

[Trokair]

Taking the inferno pistol back and stowing it with care Brynjar replied with a smile.

 

“To brotherhood then, thank you for this token of trust, now no RH1N0 will be safe.”

 

+Will you be vying for lead of Cutlass, brother?  Our comrade wants to know.+

 

Turning slightly so as to include face Draak as well.

 

“Not for my own account, we might welcome here now, but I’d rather not be any more beholden to the Tyrant’s whim than needed. My course amongst the starts is still as uncertain as it has been these many a year.”

[Machine God]

Draak studied Brynjarr and Orphiel as they talked. They were two equals, although Brynjarr seemed the younger. They valued each other, like a Scout Sergeant talking to a Scout who would soon become a Space Marine.

"Will you be vying for lead of Cutlass, brother? Our comrade wants to know." Orphiel asked Brynjarr.

Brynjarr turned slightly to face Draak.

“Not for my own account, we might welcome here now, but I’d rather not be any more beholden to the Tyrant’s whim than needed. My course amongst the stars is still as uncertain as it has been these many a year.”

A fine answer as any, Draak thought.

"I intend to lead Cutlass, now that The Traveller has left" stated Draak. "I value you both and would appreciate your support."

"Brynjarr" Draak continued "you would be wise to present your acquisition to Talek Varn. I take it that you obtained it on Viorda Prime, it might be linked to the Pride of Kings. Certainly the Apothecary has found favour recently, since the Plasma Pistol that he acquired here now rests on the hip of Degier."

 

 

Edited December 20, 2022 by Machine God
Tidy up

[Mazer Rackham]

Orphiel mused over Draak's advice, The cream of the plunder generally rose to the top, the thieves in chief taking the best spoils.

 

+Draak makes a good point.  Perhaps present it to Ghoran as trove.+

 

He used the matter to put off the other request, that of supporting the Ironclad.  Truly he had no qualms about doing so, but it might tip his hand to who he favoured.  Still, a dependable, Devastator was better than any of the more whimsical cutthroats.  Besides, better to be Kingmaker than King.

 

There was a lot of crowns flying around suddenly, and stepping over one was better than falling with it.  It would also prevent Varn from being...awkward.

 

+I will support you if you stand, Gunner+ Orphiel decided.  +Although I do not know if it will bode you well or ill.+

 

With that, he left the pair to any further discussion, wandering the newly rebuilt station for a spot of sightseeing, and to let his muscles cool.

[Trokair]

“I see your logic, but if this pistol originated on the Pride then Talek Varn’s plans are already sunk. Orphiel took this of an Inquisitorial agent, and it was made for mortal hands before it was remade aboard the Dagger Thrust.”

 

“I detailed everything I could in the after action report. The forge stamp on the old grip, though I did not recognize the specific Forgeworld, was less than a century ago. I am sure if they have further questions in relation to it or the interrogator they’ll ask them.”

[Necronaut]

Back aboard the Dagger Thrust, Vesalius reviewed the footage captured by his helm-picter during their time on Viorda Secundus while he worked with his hands. It was a fairly mindless activity, turning the harvested sinew into a usable cord. He watched the recording with one eye as he sliced and manipulated the material at his workbench in the ship’s med-bay. He had learned much about the rest of the kill-team on this most recent deployment, and the recording was most illuminating. He smiled to himself a secret sort of smile. It was a shame the Traveller would be taking his leave, but no matter. It would only be a matter of time before their paths crossed again, if Degier’s prognostication was to be believed.

Vesalius exloaded the data acquired from his helm-picter to the Iron Gods’ noosphere and turned to regard the stack of carefully sliced sheets of cured skin at the other end of his workbench. He reached for the top-most sheet...

Helm Picter: Tactics (Recon & Stealth)
Int52 + 10 (Tactics (Recon & Stealth) +10): 62
Tactics (Recon & Stealth): 1d100 45
45 - success, 1 DoS

Each member of Kill-Team Cutlass earns a bonus 50 XP!

Edited January 4, 2022 by Necronaut

[Machine God]

Draak departed, leaving Brynjarr and Orphiel to their conversation.

 

Draak decided to see if he could find Versalius. Remembering his vid search log from just before he joined Squad Cutlass, he went to the apothecary's former workbench. However when he got there the place was deserted apart from the desiccated remains the Loxatl corpse that Vesalius had studied.

 

+Holger, Draak. Please could you meet me at the Dagger Thrust's Armoury+

 

Draak proceeded to the Armoury so that he could return the Mono-blade Bayonet. Upon entering the armoury Draak lit two incense candles and field stripped Grendel to remove the added parts. Draak re-assembled Gendel, he then filled in a requisition return and returned the bayonet to the armourer.

 

"Armourer I thank you for the use of the bayonet, but I will be keeping the Suppression Stabiliser."

 

As he was about to leave the Armoury, Holger appeared.

 

"Respected Draak, you requested a meeting?" said Holger.

 

"Yes Holger, I trust that you are well. I have matters to discuss with Vesalius, do you know where I can find him?" replied Draak.

 

"Yes, he has sequestered a portion of the Med Bay as his own." answered Holger.

 

"Thank you for the information Holger, you may depart." stated Draak.

 

Draak watched Holger depart and thought of what Holger had told him when he had arrived on Elysium. Holger had said something about a Picter in Vesalius' possession.

 

Draak then headed to the Med Bay of the Dagger Thrust to talk with Vesalius. Upon entering the Med Bay he went over to the closed door behind which he had been informed Vesalius worked.

 

Draak then knocked twice on the door "KNOCK KNOCK!"

 

"Vesalius, this is Draak. May I come in?"

 

(Edit: Changed for XP purchase)

Edited January 10, 2022 by Machine God

[Necronaut]

KNOCK KNOCK!

 

"Vesalius, this is Draak. May I come in?"

 

Vesalius’ head snapped around at the sudden intrusion. He pursed his lips and sighed to himself, then stood and turned off the light over his workbench – his project could wait. He placed his beaked helm back over his head and moved to busy himself with a piece of diagnostic equipment, appearing to concern himself with an experiment or analysis of some unknown providence.

 

“Enter.”

 

Draak entered his temporary sanctum, his den. The gray-clad Astartes thudded into the med-bay, relatively lightly armed, and crossed his arms across his chest. Vesalius cocked an eyebrow under his helm and adopted his bed-side manner.

 

This had better be good…

 

“Welcome, Draak. What can I do for you? Do your wounds from Viorda Secundus trouble you?”

Edited January 7, 2022 by Necronaut

[Machine God]

“Enter” answered Vesalius.

 

Draak entered the med-bay the place was dark with hidden corners the only light was a bright directional lamp at a workbench over which Vesalius stood up from.

 

“Welcome, Draak. What can I do for you? Do your wounds from Viorda Secundus trouble you?” enquired Vesalius.

 

Draak turned his gaze upon Vesalius.

 

"No your attention is not needed in that regard. Your medicae skills were quite sufficient to heal all my wounds and my Autosanguine systems have calmed down after the fight." said Draak.

 

"The reason that I am here is that of professional courtesy. Prior to my joining Squad Cutlass I trawled the Elysium vid logs to understand how you all worked. I had asked Holger for access to the systems and during the conversation he mentioned that you have a Picter."

 

"If I had one, what would you use it for?" Vesalius asked.

 

"I know that if you had one it would be linked into your Diagnostor Helm. Now I have no interest in any surgeries that you have undertaken, but the picter is probably operational most of the time and could have picked up mission specific footage. If you are happy for me to access it I could very probably clean up the footage gained. There was a lot of stray rads about and that rockfall could have knocked the camera out of alignment. The cleaned up footage could be used to make an after mission report. We the squad could learn from our mistakes after the fact." answered Draak, "that is if you have a Picter?"

 

(Edit: typo)

Edited January 8, 2022 by Machine God

[Necronaut]

Vesalius' eyes narrowed and he stared at the other Astartes in silence for a time before responding. Though he was severed, exiled from his chapter, though he had already uploaded some captured footage from the picter to the Iron Gods' noosphere, he was extremely reluctant to part with his white diagnostor helm, which his brethren had bequeathed him, much less reveal its secrets. Such sentiments were foolishness, but he had been entrusted with the relic technology from centuries bygone, it had been worn by his predecessor. He couldn't just hand his helm, a vital part of his war-plate, his second skin over to this stranger, could he? These thoughts raced through the apothecary's mind as he tried to determine what could be the motives of his ally-of-convenience.

 

Uneasily, slowly he doffed his beaked helm and cradled it in his hands. The midnight pools of his eyes stared down at the white-painted ceramite, and the blister of crimson diagnostor lenses.

 

"Yes, my helm was equipped with a helm-picter. It has seen much since I joined the Iron Gods, but it is, perhaps, in need of recalibration. I am not adept in the arts of dealing with machine-spirits, Draak. I am..." he faltered momentarily, unsure of what he was about to say.

 

He held the corvus pattern helm before him, a look of grim uncertainty chiseled into his features.

 

Could the brute be trusted with such a fine piece of equipment? Why not take it to one of Varn's tech-thralls for servicing instead? He sighed and walked towards the other marine.

 

"I am willing to entrust this task to you Draak, of servicing this relic from my past life. Perhaps we can collaborate on a post-mission report. If there's anyone that could benefit on a primer on the finer points of clandestine operations, it would be Kill-Team Cutlass."

 

He attempted to smile at the other Iron God but couldn't bring himself to do it. "Let us head to the Dagger's armourium; they should have a much better selection of tools there. I will supervise."

Edited January 28, 2022 by Necronaut