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post #21 of 23 (permalink) Old 04-30-13, 05:52 PM Thread Starter
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Churian and Borski had crossed to the other side of the large chamber, circling around the jutting prominence of the cylindrical cooling tower that dominated the centre of the high-ceilinged room. They had climbed up onto a walkway and stepped between partially opened doors that led into a control room that overlooked the chamber. It was Borski’s intention to access a map of the sector in order to identify another route off this dread vessel; Churian, on the other hand, wanted to find the best route to the warp drive. He wasn’t the brightest of officers, but he was incredibly loyal and would follow his captain’s command to the last.

There was a terrible screeching sound from across the chamber, and the two men ducked down behind the wide window that overlooked the coolant tower, clutching their guns to their chests, backs to the consoles. They glanced at each other.

“That was the blast door we just came through, I’m sure of it,” Borski whispered urgently.

Churian nodded his agreement.

“What are we going to do?” Borski said. “We can’t wait here.”

The lieutenant twisted his body around and gradually lifted his head to peer over the terminals and through the muck-covered window. He could see nothing, but the blast door was on the other side of the central coolant tower. He sat back down next to Borski and pointed at a door at the other end of the control room.

“We go through there.”

I luv da smell of fried dwarf in da mornin'

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post #22 of 23 (permalink) Old 09-02-13, 08:01 PM Thread Starter
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Sorry for the radio silence guys - it's been a hectic few months! Thanks for all the support and kind words (not to mention the rep)!

Back to the story...

I luv da smell of fried dwarf in da mornin'

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post #23 of 23 (permalink) Old 09-02-13, 08:02 PM Thread Starter
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Dimitar was in his bizarrely decorated quarters, clambering into his heavily customised and very alien suit of power armour. All about him were the trophies of years spent adventuring, raiding, smuggling and plundering. There was all manner of curios and furnishings, from ancient puzzle boxes to the opulent and bejewelled Eldar chest that sat at the foot of his giant tyranid-bone bed. As he secured the cuirass around his torso, a speaker in the ceiling buzzed and a hoarse, skeletal voice spoke over the vox.

“Captain? It is Vlados. There is something I must tell you.”

Igo Dimitar scowled at the sound of the navigator’s voice.

“What is it Vlados? Can it not wait?” he replied, impatiently.

“No my captain, I am afraid it cannot. Will you meet me in my chamber?” Vlados enquired thinly.

“No Vlados, I will not. If it relates to a warp disturbance, then communicate the details to Lt. Varga. She is in command whilst I am off ship.”

There was a pause. Vlados now spoke urgently. “You must not set foot on that vessel, captain. It will be your end.”

Dimitar had finished with his armour and scooped up an ornate conical helmet from the bed.

“Nonsense, Vlados. I have had enough of your fearful gibberings. Speak no more of these irrational things, and make no mention of them to my crew. They are superstitious enough as it is. Remain in your cell and do your job.” Dimitar placed the helm over his head and locked the neck clasps. Then he strode across the room to open a weapons cabinet to withdraw an ornate pistol and a long, curved power blade. As he made to leave, Vlados spoke again over the vox.

“Beware the beast, captain, lest it slay you; but beware the beast within, lest it slay us all.”

Dimitar snorted at this typically cryptic piece of advice from the navigator and closed the door behind him.

I luv da smell of fried dwarf in da mornin'

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