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(OOC: Why, I've never felt so popular )

(Also, and I'm sorry if I didn't make this clear, Elgarion is wearing a helmet and so you wouldn't be able to see his facial expressions. My bad, should have been more specific).

(Isn't this a culexus?



I'm sorry but the discussion about helmets threw me off, looking for confirmation.)

[Wow, you guys have really been at it in my absence! Great stuff! Oh, and yes, that is a Culexus WARORK. The animus and the helmet are one, both protection and weapon joining together in one grinning visage.]

Background-- /// The entity which now utterly controlled the body and mind of the Eldar ranger formerly know as Gra'ff'en was also an Eldar; or rather he had been an Eldar. In years past he had been as debase and immoral as the rest, heeding not the warnings of the conservative. Sloravek, as he was now "known", had been more involved in his race's downfall than most others though. He was dangerous even then.

When the debauchery and the pleasures of the Eldar had first begun to coalesce into an actual being (that being of course is the God Slaanesh), Sloravek, then Ranahed'rel, had been... well, "chosen" for the lack of a better describer. That is to say that when Slaanesh had first become sentient it had reached out to him, and indeed others like him.

Is it so suprising to think that Slaanesh schemed its way into being? Were the Eldar fools enough to think his existence had been happenstance? Surely a being as powerful as a God couldn't be coincidental! No, Slaanesh had been mere potential before the Eldar's flaws of excess had given it the power to coalesce.

The agents which Slaanesh had relied on to do its bidding in the realm of mortals, real-space if you will, had been greatly rewarded (or so it had seemed to Slaanesh) upon the fruition of its plans. Ranahed'rel in particular was granted special luxury. His soul was fully admitted into the embrace of the maelstrom, that sea of lost souls. It, and its inhabitants for whom Slaanesh had become master, toyed, feasted, and maimed his soul until nothing of the alien he had once been was left. Ranahed'rel had gone insane, whether it be from drowning in pleasure or horror take your pick. In the final moment of his sanity it became apparent to him that this is what the master had intended all along. Indeed Slaanesh saw this as a gift. Ranahed'rel would have seen it the same if any mind not of the Warp could think along the same lines as a God of the Warp. In the end though Sloravek was born, just as his master had been, into a new and powerful form, a tool fashioned by Slaanesh itself, built solely for its bidding ever-more.

That bidding was what had brought Sloravek back out of the maelstrom. It hadn't been too long ago (by the timing of real-space, but then what meaning did the laws of reality have in a place which had no rules? A place which simply didn't abide by laws, which had no use of such things for in a sense, it didn't even exist, if your meaning of existence meant that it was something real, a fact, or substantial. The Warp is none of these things. It is not a fact, it is the embodiment of emotion. It is not substantial, indeed its base tenant is that it is insubstantial, un-real. Therefore what use could such a place have for something as binding as time?) that Slaanesh had come into being, and not long after that it had begun its ever-lasting quest for power, whether that power be over the other Gods or over the play-things of the universe. Sloravek was to find an object of this power here on the world of Brigantia... /// --end background.



Sloravek pinched the flesh of his arm. The sensation traveled down into the dermis of his skin, following the axons of his nerves and found its way into his brain via his Central Nervous System. It was incredible to feel such things again. It had been so long since he had been party to such substantial feelings. Oh, sure, the Warp had offered up bounties aplenty of such things, but nothing compared to the sensation of flesh itself! He scraped the nails of his right hand up his forearm, slowly now, savoring every twang of pain, every bit of feeling. He reveled inside to know such things again. He dug a little deeper and stared as Eldar blood once again dripped from torn flesh.

That bastard Gra'ff'en had been a fool, but strong none-the-less. It had taken almost 16 months for Sloravek to wear him down. If it hadn't been for his continued corrupting behavior Sloravek might have lost his hold on the alien. What a tragedy that would have been.

Sloravek had been making his way through the woods for hours now. As he topped a shallow rise he glimpsed the compound of the post before him. Smoke rose from small fires still smoldering in ruins within the walls and figure could be glimpsed milled to and fro between them. He could hear raised voices and strained his newly-obtained eyes to locate the source.

There, a man brandished a small booklet as he conversed loudly with a... grinning, elongated skull atop a jet-black human body. Nausea rolled over Sloravek as he gazed at the figure, especially when he looked at its head where-upon sat an odd bulbous instrument.

"That being is to be avoided if at all possible.", he thought. As he watched, another individual approached the two, the thing now perching on a nearby vehicle and the man before it watching the third run his hands slowly through his hair. Human behavior puzzled Sloravek to no end, and perhaps with any luck that speed-bump of a being with the bulbous eye would be dealt with in the current situation. He quelled his excitement at finally locating his objective. He had plenty of time.

He stopped, set down his weapon, and watched.

I...don't get it. Are you teleporting or something?

-Cypher- wrote:Sloravek had been making his way through the woods for hours now. As he topped a shallow rise he glimpsed the compound of the post before him. Smoke rose from small fires still smoldering in ruins within the walls and figure could be glimpsed milled to and fro between them. He could hear raised voices and strained his newly-obtained eyes to locate the source.

I take this section to mean he left his previous location and over the course of several hours has been walking/running/etc until he came upon the outpost where Joryn etc are at the moment. So not Teleported no.

(I'm stuck wondering how this Graffen/Sloravek thing works. Does he have multiple personalities or is he possessed by a daemon of Slaanesh? Or is he actually a Dark Eldar?)

I believe it was possession by a Warp being. That has been working the Eldar's mind until he finally broke him down and took over his body. Cypher certainly has put a lot of effort into adding finer details in his posts. Definatly worth a re-read just to ensure you pick up any bits that could easily have been glanced over, I persoanlly find it difficult reading large qauntities of text on screen. And I mean it in a positive way btw

(Yeah I read it like three times but I just wanted to be sure I was getting it right so I wouldn't do something in a future post that would contradict stuff...

Better safe than sorry! )

[Hey guys, sorry I wasn't precise enough. I stayed inactive too long to have a short entry. I don't blame any of you for just skimming through it.

No, Sloravek is not teleporting. He has been walking for the most part.

Sloravek was once an Eldar of a world within the Eye of Terror. He was "chosen" by Slaanesh to aid in its becoming a true Chaos God. So, he was an Eldar know as Ranahed'rel, then his soul was flayed from his body by Slaanesh itself (Slaanesh saw this as a reward due to Slaanesh's skewed view of things, Slaanesh saw it as an intensely pleasure-full act) and his soul was cast into the maelstrom. There it was feasted on, played with, and tortured for the pleasure of Slaanesh's demons. This continued until Ranahed'rel was driven insane. At the point of insanity, enlightenment also reached Ranahed'rel, and he was reborn as the warp-being Sloravek. Sloravek now aids the newly-formed Slaanesh in aquiring power. It is on one such quest that Sloravek encounters Gra'ff'en (he does this by seeing Gra'ff'en's soul enjoying insense pleasures time and time agian. When Gra'ff'en indulged himself, his soul would shine brightly in the warp. Sloravek saw this and began the process of possessing him.). Sloravek has now taken control of Gra'ff'en's body, thus Gra'ff'en has ceased to exist. It is now just Sloravek.

Sorry for the confusion, but as I said I have been inactive for too long, so a short entry wouldn't have done justice to my character. I needed a suitably important event to justify him being away from the group so long. Plus, I think that this change in personality will breathe new life into him and his part in the story.

FOR THE SHORT ANSWERS READ BELOW:

So, he is not able to teleport... yet. The longer Sloravek is in control of a body, the more Warp-borne powers he will be able to use in real-space. This also makes him sensitive to the assassin's animus, since the only thing keeping Sloravek in control is his psychic power. To describe the situation better, view it as Sloravek's "body" is still in the Warp, and over time is slowly leaching into Gra'ff'en's body along with his powers, via a sort of psychic bridge. The process will take time.

Yes, Sloravek is, in essence, a demon now. Yes, he is possessing Gra'ff'en. However, there are not two personalities, Gra'ff'en was completely obliterated when Sloravek took control.

I hope that clears things up.]

{Crystal. With everyone's leave, I'll continue the story tomorrow. Sorry about the delay; school and whatnot.}

[Do offer a bit of story push soon Owain. I look forward to my next RP bit.]

[Alright. I'm going to go ahead and push this story into Phase II before it gets swamped.]

The gun-cutter descended in the midst of the post's still-smoking remains, the wash from its turbine engines kicking up dust and debris. Joryn walked towards the vehicle, holding a hand up to his face to keep the grit from his eyes.

As the the turbines spun down, a jumpsuited pilot stepped from the cockpit and saluted. Joryn halted, returning the gesture before gesturing over his shoulder for the survivors of the battle to join him. "We have received word from Fleet Command. There have been some very... troubling occurrences in Kell's Reach that require my personal attention. Belgarion, I assume you'll find this most relevant to your interests. As for the rest of you, you are hereby released from whatever missions that might have been assigned to you. This is a matter that jeopardizes the success of our crusade on Brigantia."

It was here that Harlow spoke up. "Sir, I have been informed that others from my unit yet survive. If we have the time, they could prove invaluable." Joryn nodded his assent. "I think that can be arranged." He gestured towards the pilot. "Just get the coordinates to Lieutenant Graves here and we'll extract them post-haste."

{Obviously I'm not going to fit a dozen Karukians in the gunship with equipment to boot, so can I select a few to accompany Borek?}

[Weren't there only twelve or so left? A gun-cutter is a bit roomier than a Valkyrie. Think of this one as somewhere between a Valkyrie and a Thunderhawk. Also, I apologize for the long delay. Only two torturous weeks and school is over forever.]

Harlow quickly read off the numbers and gave a general location of the place to the pilot. The pilot seemed a little apprehensive.

"That's technically behind the lines a few klicks now, as of twelve hours ago."

"I know, should be relatively clear though." Harlow said, with as much reassurance as possible. He turned his attention to Joryn.

"I'm sorry I didn't report earlier sir, with all this shadow play, I got a little untrusting and...."

Harlow stopped and swallowed. "Well, no excuses. Let me just tell you sir. Me and my company, sixth of the 85th Vendoland regiment, we were posted on hill 875, its about ten klicks northwest of here. We were supposed to be an forward post, kind of like this one. Yesterday, we came under heavy attack from their push. I got separated from my men in the chaos and headed to our rally point, set southeast of the hill, when that got overrun I spent the next twelve hours sneaking around until I got your call. Last orders I got were to head for Kell's reach but I never got that far. I was half hoping to find some of my men here but that didn't happen, Then I got a message from them just a few minutes ago. I have no idea how many there are but there cant be more than half the company left after last night."

Harlow shifted and paused for a few moments to let Joryn soak in the information.

"And now you know what I do sir."

(BTW, I still haven't figured out the significance of the symbol Joryn pulled out to show to the assassin, is he like an inquisitor or something?)

Borek fished the dog-tags from his fallen men. In the panic of the firefight and subsequent artillery he hadn't realised how many of his men had fallen. Seven were dead and cold, their bodies covered by the black sheets. Those Karukians still able to stand were now digging seven grave, good and deep so that the warriors would join this foreign earth and sleep heavily. Dirt flew in measured paces as the men laboured in solemn silence. No victory cries now, this was a time for serenity and solemn work. Borek grimaced as the graves grew deeper, the Karukian adage echoing in his mind.

"Deep graves for the hearty, shallow graves for the coward." Borek muttered.

"Lord?" Barbarossa asked, Borek could tell from his puzzled look he hadn't heard properly.

"Nothing." Borek sighed "What of the men?"

"Nothing good, sire. Kes is poorly, he coughs blood. We might need eight graves soon. Benji will never walk again, Meldew might recover from the assassins blow, but not for months at least. Same for Povorya. Kes's cousin, Kent, lost his hand, but he's in good enough condition to leave him in watch of the others. That leaves us with Barfada, Jasar, Valuk and Petera. And of course, PanPan."

"We'll have to leave them here, they can head back with any supply convoy. I've a feeling that Joryn isn't done with us just yet." Borek said this with a grim smile.

Barbarossa nodded, turning to join the men in digging the graves. Borek held him back, his grip on Barbarossa's arm demanding his attention. "And the creature?"

Barbarossa averted his eyes. "PanPan lost the scent soon after we left, the creature covered its tracks well. From what I could tell though, it was heading to Kell's Reach."

After Barbarossa left Borek was silent for a time. The creatue was a bad omen, he knew it. Warrender's approach snapped him out of his reverie.

"Mind if I join you?" he chuckled, as if there was something funny that only he knew.

Borek grunted as Warrender sat down, moving only to proffering the man an Iho stick. "Sorry to say, but that assassin kicked your tail out there. Nasty piece of work." Borek grunted again as Warrender accepted, lighting the smoke and inhaling deeply.

Warrender's face was suddenly serious. "I saw what you and your men did out there, Borek. You guys were hit damn hard. I'm not the kind of man to sit around."

Borek was deathly silent as he slowly stood up. Picking up a shovel he turned away, walking towards the earth where the graves grew deeper. A deep, dark resting place for the souls of the Karukian brave. He called back over his shouler, "You're welcome to join us."

WARORK93 wrote:
(BTW, I still haven't figured out the significance of the symbol Joryn pulled out to show to the assassin, is he like an inquisitor or something?)

I doubt it's on that level. More likely special forces branch or some such, sort of like intelligence and SS mixed up together.

It was as Warrender puffed out smog from the Iho stick that he noticed the glowing red eyes. They were cold, and unblinking; but then again you would expect no less from an Assassin. Growling and nudging Borek, Warrender slowly rose to his feet, reaching for his weapon. Borek had seen the creature as well, and standing up he drew his sabre in his wounded hand and fell into a combat stance. In response, Elgarion gracefully advanced from the shadow, the grin on his mask only increasing the tension building between the three men. Then, just as it seemed it would all kick off again, the Assassin spoke.
"Your men fought bravely today, warrior. Not many average men, even those in the army could give an Imperial Assassin a few bruises. They were a worthy foe." Warrender looked confused, involuntarily relaxing slightly. Borek recoiled though, stunned, because the Assassin had spoken in fluent Karkurian.
Elgarion saw the perplexed expressions on the two soldier's faces, and gave a chuckle which sounded for all the world like the reaper of men Borek's mother had warned him of to get him to behave. He swapped back to Gothic, meeting both men's eyes.
"Surprised? You should be. Suffice to say, I have many talents that you are unaware of. You should hope that, for the sake of this mission, you remain unaware of many of them."
Warrender and Borek still looked wary, but reluctantly sheathed their weapons; still keeping their fists clenched, though.
"I thank you for your complements, beast" said Borek, still with a snarl on his lip, "but we are not done. There will be a reckoning between us yet." Warrender said nothing, but nodded, eyes scanning Elgarion for any weakness if it came to a fight. The Culexus nodded.
"If that is your wish." The Assassin looked at the ground almost contemplatively; silent for a moment, then looked up again "Do either of you know why I'm here?" Warrender and Borek's brows furrowed-truth be told, they didn't. An Assassin wouldn't be brought in to deal with routine world pacification, so what was his purpose on this planet? As if in answer, Elgarion leaned in, voice dropping to an almost conspiritual whisper. "To be honest, I'm not expecting any of you to survive this mission, so I'm willing to tell you a little. Even Joryn, though he has more...authority than he first presented, as you've probably worked out by now, doesn't know the truth. Borek." The man turned his head slightly; obviously wary of what was coming.
"What?"
"You know the monsters your mother told you about when you were a child? That lived under the bed, in the desert, tempting honourable warriors away from the path?"
The Karkurian nodded.
"You know how when the Imperium found your planet, you were told these monsters didn't exist?"
Elgarion turned, and began to walk towards the shadows. As he entered them, he turned back to the bemused men and fixed them with his piercing red eyes, his voice a morbid hiss.
"You were lied to."

{Very nice, had me edgy there LLF. Have to say though, your talkative nature is hardly in line with a Imperial Assassins we know today. Are you going to elaborate on what is the cause of his more...independant nature?}

Emperors Faithful wrote:{Very nice, had me edgy there LLF. Have to say though, your talkative nature is hardly in line with a Imperial Assassins we know today. Are you going to elaborate on what is the cause of his more...independant nature?}

(Certainly. Obviously, I know Elgarion's purpose on the planet, and as mentioned he isn't expecting many of you to survive. He also, however grudgingly, acknowledges that he can't do this by himself, and he needs allies if he's to complete his mission before the proverbial gak hits the proverbial fan. Obviously I didn't get off to a very good start with that, but then again he is a moody soulless ******* so it was to be expected. He also realises that for the others to fully understand the magnitude of the task that faces them they need to know something about their enemey; not much, and he certainly won't like sharing the information, but for the benefit of the mission it is a nessercary evil.

Hope that clears some things up.)

(Hey guys, I'm back! Sorry for falling so far behind).

The Praetorians marched through the thick forest that covered the entirety of Brigantia, their footfalls made soggy and hollow by the monotonous drone of insects and the sodden earth beneath their feet. Armored columns trundled forwards, crushing fallen trees under their treads with satisfying snaps. Officers barked orders to enlisted men, who jumped to obey without hesitation. Mounted atop the Leman Russ Vanquisher, Fist of Loria, was Genewhip Rudiger, his keen eyes sweeping the overgrown path ahead of his troops. Flights of Valkyries and Vendetta gunships roared overhead, trailing slashes of white vapor across the sky, and filling the heart of every Lorian with pride. Suddenly, one of the Vendetta's veered off course, slamming into a Valkyrie on it's port side, sending the pair into a raging fireball that smashed into the massed Imperial soldiers, killing dozens as their bodies vaporized in the following explosion, and sending a tank flipping onto it's side. Several other transports smashed into their comrades, sending molten death raining down upon the massed Lorians, killing hundreds as the carriers erupted in white plumes of promethium and flame. The Lorians were in complete disarray, screaming in outrage at what had occurred. The vox officers reported that each transport that had veered into their kin had transmitted a single phrase to all channels before their dive. "Long live Brigantia, death to the Emperor." Rudiger roared in anger. Such treason was unknown to the Lorian Legions, and this would be a black stain upon their honor for centuries to come. Geysers of gore and dirt erupted from the soil as rebel tanks opened up upon the startled Lorians from position in the wood around the marching Imperials. Hundreds of lasguns fired as one, scything Lorians down as a farmer cuts wheat, their bodies hitting the soggy forest floor with wet thuds. The Lorians responded with grim efficiency, returning fire, and finding shelter behind the wrecks of their own vehicles. Rudiger turned his Vanquisher around, firing a massive shell through the armor of a rebel tank that produced a satisfying eruption of metal and flame. Taking hold of the heavy stubber mounted on the vehicle's pintle, Rudiger opened up on a group of rebel soldiers, turning them inside out with wet pops as the fusillade of dumdum rounds hit their mark. The Lorians began to rally, turning heavy weapons platforms about to fire upon the rebel soldiers, bursting them like pus melons, and seeding their organs over the forest floor. The Fist of Loria fired again, breaking another rebel tank with ease, before turning about and delivering hot death to yet another. The remaining Vendetta's swooped low in devastating bombing runs, destroying the remainder of the enemy armor, before firing clusters of rockets at the scurrying footmen. A rebel captain gave flight as the Fist of Loria rumbled near his position, the furious Genewhip raking the ground behind him with stubber fire. He stumbled on a downed tree, snapping his leg like a dry twig as it twisted horribly. The Fist of Loria had stopped firing, and simply popped the captain like a grape as it trundled over his prone form, smearing a gory paste of the layer of rotted leaves and wood as it roared deeper into the wood. The last of the rebels fled, many cut down by the vengeful Lorians, or obliterated by cannon fire. Rudiger surveyed his losses: Over seventy percent of the Lorians lay dead, their air support was almost entirely gone, and their tanks had taken a beating. There would be blood for this, rivers of it.

{Ah mate, could that break that up a bit into paragraphs? And somehow this has to pertain to what we're doing, no?}

You were lied to...

Lied to indeed. But then, hadn't every being in this forsaken universe been tricked?

Monsters existed in their millions, and if Sloravek had his way this place would be crawling with them in mere moments. As he finished setting the scene for his ritual, he turned once again to look at the compound. It wasn't long ago that a flier had landed. Business was going about its course. Those pathetic whelps didn't have an inkling as to what their little war was making possible.

The continued bloodshed on this world was weakening the barrier between real and un-real. Cultists were beginning to spring up among the rebels (and perhaps even among the loyalist Imperial forces, but who was to say?); that was the reason for their renewed military offensives. They were shown in their dreams promises of glory, wealth, pleasure, power, or wonderful death depending on which God the luring demon owed it's patronage to.

Sloravek was taking advantage of this weakened barrier. To achieve his objective, which of course was to recover the artifact, he knew he needed either a small army, or a devious diversion. A summoning would provide either.

To begin the process, Sloravek had been stalking the woods for hours gathering bits from the bodies of the fallen. He had arrayed them in an eight pointed star around a pile of hearts taken from those same bodies. After offering a bit of his own demon blood onto the pile the scene was set. All he needed now was a still-beating heart. Luckily there was an abundance not to far from here...

...roughly 20 minutes later...

He crept ever closer to the ruined wall of the compound. As he poked his head over the edge he saw a group of what appeared to be little more than feudal barbarians digging rather deep graves for their fallen comrades. Those would make nice targets indeed. However, the stronger the heart the brighter the beacon to bring in more deamonettes and their like. No, the feudals would be left alone for now.

Sloravek panned his vision across the post and spied a dusty soldier smoking a lho stick. This individual had a strong aura about him. He had a purpose, a strong belief that why he was here was important. To twist that purpose into something furthering the dark wishes of Slaanesh would make for a wonderful little bonus to the ritual. He would do nicely indeed.

[How are we to handle lethal Main Character vs Main Character combat? I don't wanna step on any toes if I don't have to, but let's face it, it was going to happen sooner or later. So what are the ground rules?]

Harlow's neck hairs stood on end. He tried to convince himself it was the same apprehension of the assassin. But no, this was different. Maybe it was just the assassin's spook story? No, it was more real than a childlike fear. Something not right was going on here. something powerful and deadly. It wasn't any one piece of evidence that gave Harlow a sense of dread, it was a gut feeling, a sixth sense, something a precision marksman needed in order to survive in his no holds barred kind of fighting.

Harlow couldn't place it but he could almost taste the tang of electricity in the air. Some sort of malice was brewing closely. Harlow's thoughts turned to the things that the assassin had talked about. He'd heard all the stories of monsters too as a kid, they haunted men's dreams wherever they went. Perhaps the thing that the Karukian's had hunted for had something to do with it?

Harlow's guts told him that the assassin was right, there was more at stake here than just a planet, there was more at work here than a rebellion, even though he had yet to see any evidence of it, and he half didn't even believe himself, his instincts told him otherwise.

With great reluctance Harlow walked in the direction of the assassin. He almost felt as though someone else was using his legs, every single one of his fibers were telling him to stay as far away from that thing as possible. Still Harlow pressed on, The assassin saw him draw near but did not move, just staring at him until Harlow was just a few feet away. Harlow looked into the assassin's eyes for a few long, agonizing moments, feeling the eyes of the Karukians and every other soldier within earshot looking at them both. Silence graced the scene.

Harlow fought in his own mind with the words to speak. He found himself wondering again if this thing was even human. He took a good long look and finally came to a conclusion. The assassin might of been terrifying, horrible, and an abomination to the senses, but under the exterior, was a man, fighting the enemies of man, just like Harlow.

"If there's more here than just rebels like you said..." Harlow began swallowing. "Then its important for all of us to be getting along." Harlow paused.

"I don't expect you to speak, but at least listen. I'm willing to let bygones be bygones for the sake of whatever greater purpose is at stake here. I hope that as a warrior of the Imperium then you will do the same."

Harlow paused again and looked the assassin in the eyes, he took a single step closer, and spoke very lowly.

"If I can feel whatever it is you speak of lurking somewhere around here, then I'm sure you can. I don't know about you, but I don't want to be alone when we have to face it."

With that Harlow walked away to wait and wonder what was to happen next, hoping the assassin might see some truth in his carefully thought through words.

Elgarion watched with curiosity as Harlow strode away. The man was brave; if there had been any doubt of that beforehand it was gone now. To look in the eye of one who possessed his...talents was no mean feat, and though the Culexus still did not like the officer he at the very least found himself respecting him.
"Harlow". The voice was at once a whisper and a shout, and the army trooper turned to look at the Culexus. Elgarion was silent for a moment, before giving an almost imperceptible nod. "You are right. No single man here can stand against the threat that we face alone. But, you must understand that time is of the essence; my target will soon be putting his plan into action and...well, I'm not going to sugar-coat it, if he succeeds we're screwed. You don't trust me, and I don't trust you, but in the name of the beloved Emperor I will put my personal grievances aside for the greater good." Elgarion was quiet for a moment, tilting his head to the side in contemplation, before speaking again, this time addressing all the soldiers present "I never told any of you my name, did I?"
Silence.
The Assassin gave a low wet chuckle, to the evident surprise of some of the gathered men, before going on.
"if any of you happen to find it out, do come and tell me, my masters won't let me know it either."
A few nervous giggles went off; Elgarion wasn't surprised. The nature of their job meant that that was the kind of thing that passed for humour amongst Officio operatives. He had always considered it rather droll. He waited a few seconds for the silence to return, suddenly aware of how unused he was to public speaking. Nevertheless, he pressed on. "My codename, however, is Elgarion. You may refer to me as such. I am a Prophitage of Clade Culexus, an Ordo of the Emperor’s Officio Assassinorum. That is all you need to know”. He looked across at Harlow, to gauge the man’s reaction. He looked satisfied, at least for now. Good, thought Elgarion; that meant that at least for the while he would co-operate. Nothing more needed to be said, it seemed, so both men turned to leave.
A rustling, in the bushes.
Elgarion had his pistol drawn and was scanning for targets in a moment, and out of the corner of his eye he could see that Harlow and his keen falconer’s ears had done the same. The other soldiers seemed confused, though some of the seemingly more competent ones had drawn their weapons and were looking around nervously. Another rustling, this time going towards the centre of the camp. Elgarion and Harlow turned to look at each other, and for a moment the blue eyes of the officer and the soulless red orbs of the Assassin met.
“Did you-“ began Harlow.
“I heard it as well.” confirmed Elgarion.
Weapons ready, and not stopping to order the bemused soldiers around them into any form of action, the two men set off at a sprint.

Borek patted down the last grave, smoothing out the surface as much as he could. He knew that there should be some sort of sign on this patched earth, a sign or a pile of stones, there was no time for that though. Behind him Warrender shifted, watching the assassin stalk into the bushes after Harlow {are we still in the compound or what? }.
"What are they up to?"

Borek spat, his pride refusing to give way to curiosity. "Should I care? The assassin, Elgaron or whatever, can burn in hell. He nearly killed Mildew and Povorya. Let the bastard rot."

Warrender sniffed. Grabbing his weapon the veteran made ready. "I might check it out, just to keep an eye on Harlow." Borek grunted his acknowledgment.

[Still waiting on Owain's input on how to handle PvP. In the meantime, don't continue to gang up on me too much? I was going to make the conflict a one-on-one thing (and no, not in the interest of making the conflict one-sided), but now it seems the entire party is getting involved.]

[I don't know if that's what Owain intended. He seemed set on us getting a lift to the hive city, and I haven't heard from hellsguardian in while either.]

((With everyones greatly detailed story inputs and the storyline lingering at one specific spot its been hard for me to input anything. All I could really do is to write small segments repeating what everyone has already written as I don't want to try and move the story along on my own accord, so have been content to allow everyone to add snippets of Warrender instead. Not making a fuss btw, just don't want you to think I've abandoned you all. And damn you Borek! you got me smoking! ))

"I might check it out, just to keep an eye on Harlow." Warrender said in a quiet voice so only Borek could hear.

Warrender sniffed, hand placed over his hip ready to reach for his autopistol, he looked to his left to the APC, seeing his lasgun proped up against the vehicle, his team having returned there. "How bloody careless of me" he thought to himself as his face hardened, his irritation showing in his face. He raised his hand, signalling his team to stay put.

He slowly walked in the direction of the Assassin and Harlow as they crept towards the noise that had distracted everyone. As his hand laid across his pistol holster he flicked his thumb, releasing the popper catch and pushing a finger into the trigger he smoothly pulled his pistol into his hand ready.

-Cypher- wrote:[Still waiting on Owain's input on how to handle PvP. In the meantime, don't continue to gang up on me too much? I was going to make the conflict a one-on-one thing (and no, not in the interest of making the conflict one-sided), but now it seems the entire party is getting involved.]

(It appears there's a first for everything. A demon is scared by two men jumping at noises, having no idea what to expect? Seriously though, I think it would be unrealistic for us not to get involved either, are we to watch as Warrender gets his guts pulled out?

In all honesty, if you want to get one of us one on one, your going to have to get one of us by ourselves first.

As for the story progression, I was kinda hoping we'd be rolling along to wherever Owain had in mind soon but then Fauntleroy had us two on alert so........)