At your words, Thrasius's face corrodes into a sickened, foul state. It is extremely clear that he is doing eveyrthing to push through answering your latter question first,
"It was a practice mission, Sergeant. Practice that you needed. None of your brothers died, there is a very significant difference between them returning alive, and still down there dead. We are space marines, we are always near death. Your squad retrieved a scared relic, recovered Cleomenes, killed the majority of the scavengers, and no one died. You did anything but fail me."
He stands up, eyes narrowed, face pale, walking toward you curling his fists up toward his abdominals, shaking slightly,
"Vermaas...is nothing like Astelan. Do you remember Astelan, Sergeant Scrious? I was with him on the verge of his betrayal. He fought and spat at his brothers with venom."
"When he spoke of hurting his brothers, there was no doubt he would have truly enjoyed it. His eyes, his posture....If I had allowed him to spar Belial to settle their differences, he would have murdered the marine with a salivating mouth."
"You accuse Vermaas, Vermaas, of heresy!? Vermaas, Sergeant scrious!?"
He follows this with a yell of anger, no words nothing held back just a short burst of flared anger as an after thought to the question.
"That is one of the most honorable marines left under my command,"
he says still breathing heavily, "I am no fool, Scrious, I know he could have stopped Izrael in other ways. But his intention to me was clear, he slipped up. All of you slipped up! Why? Because none of you have seen true battle in years!"
He starts to calm himself, "Let me be clear about this. If another one of my astartes shows any signs of heresy, I will take Thorcrya's blade," he says, pointing to the giant power scythe encased behind him, "kill them, decapitate them, and destroy their geneseed!"
He moves over to the power-scythe, and takes hold of it. The intricate force field around its almost biological looking mechanics recognizing his large, rough fingers and allowing them to curl around the weapon's staff. He pulls it free of its prison and activates it. A sharp crack, spark, and flare erupts from the tip of the scythe as a flash of energy shimmers over the blade. Such a powerful weapon, you can see it cooking the air around it as Thrasius walks back over to you.
"So Sergeant, choose your words carefully when you answer this question. Vermaas was with you during your mission to Sotha's surface. You were his commanding officer. Are you telling me, you believe him to be a heretic?"
Give Thrasius what I hope your answer is. After what he has explained to you, you still may think Vermaas should have been punished, though it may seem like bringing it up again isn't such a good idea. Ultimately that will be your call whenever you meet back up with some of the other players. They likely may bring it up to you after all. After you give your answer, he will dismiss you. From there explain your thoughts, where your headed and/or who you want to speak with.
You appear to hang by the banded multitudes of massive chords hanging from the ceiling, connected to your front chasis and backside. It might look like you were floating if not for the massive footlocks propping you up at a slight angle from the floor. Red and orange lights light the room from various technologies and mechanisms. Right now, you may as well just be another one of those pieces of tech, albeit a very large one in center of Laikus's chamber. Several of the techmarine's words over the past few days still echo through your mind as it travels through the odd state of sleep it has been placed in.
An upgrade, we'll call it, yes...
His final statement the most clear, naturally.
You won't be in full stasis...Dont want you going back to full slumber, we will need you again sooner than that I'm sure. Just enough for me to... necessary changes...systems
The mechanical, deep astartes voice of the techmarine seems to float up and up and up away from you into the air. Never ending mechadendrites encircling you begin to spin apart, swirling and transforming into thin grey clouds as you fall through a red-orange colored sky, Laikus's echoes trying to keep up with your descent, but just cant fall quite as fast as you are. Your hand, in its gauntlet of black ceramite, reaches out above you and clasps onto flat rockrete.
All you can see are people's legs, hundreds of them busily walking past you in silence, the people they belong to failing to notice you at all. They step right beside your reached out hand, so close, but always avoiding you. You pull forward. Through the hundreds of shoes and pairs of legs, you see buildings, tall skyscrapers rising above the heads of the people who continue just walking past you. You motion to stand up, but an excruciating pain erupts from the leg muscles you try to move. Its enough to make you wail in agony.
You continue pulling yourself with your hands, fingers trembling as they dig into the rockrete in front of you, finding purchase through the masses of moving people. Your power armor scrapes and scratches along the rockrete as you drag yourself. You breath crazily, bits of saliva shooting to the ground through gritted teeth, and muted yells of pain coming from your curled lips.
The top half of an astartes in power armor yelling in pain with watering eyes, inches his way forward through the massive, silent, and uncaring crowd as his stub legs leak streams of thick blood behind them. Nothing past the upper thighs remain. A few strands of muscle tissue trail slightly alongside the strips of metal and chord from the suit's ravaged leg armor.
Though you cant feel them, the remaining parts of your thighs wag slowly back and forth, automatically moving in motion with the rest of your body as you army crawl forward. You see something else prone up ahead, writhing like an injured worm with flailing limbs. You cant change direction but soon crawl past the figure. You cant even turn your head to look better, only your eyes as you continue forward. An adolescent boy in casual Sothan clothes, but with an MKVII helmet on his head. The boy is screaming bloody murder, but the voice is muted by the helmet rather than amplified. His hands scratch desperately at the helmet, his nails curled and chipped. You see the shadow of massive wings pass in front of you, and you hear the flap of its wings ascending away, quickly dissipating as you move past the screaming boy.
Now to your right a large figure shows through the crowd of bodies. People slowly stop passing in front of it altogether allowing you to see. Death himself seems to slip away just as your eyes land on the black and yellow armored marine, limp, hanging, heavily shadowed and pinned through the chest against the building wall with a large crystalline spike.
You continue forward toward the rising sunlight and through the pain you hear it, the faintest of whispers passing through your mind like thinned smoke-
Solaki....the shadows must win. Leave the shadows.
The sunlight flares incredibly, and the massive crowd burns away peacefully just before your vision is filled with light and you are looking into Laikus's faceplate.
"How did you follow me here without being awake?" He asks you, obviously dumbfounded despite the emotionless tone. He shakes his head, making it a problem to figure out later.
"Since you made it here, I need you to test your new weapon systems."
You now have two hand shaped dreadnought close combat weapons. So you have two hands basically. On the right arm, is also an under-slung, long barreled assault cannon. It is currently collapsed against the side of your arm but you can cause it to flip forward in order to fire it. its belt-feed going up into your right shoulder which houses an extended munition box for more rounds than the average dreadnought assault cannon armament. Your left arm has a similarly under-slung heavy flamer. You'll notice your chasis is slightly larger, with a new layer of armor plating. On both shoulders you have a hunter-killer missile launcher. Connected to these on your backside below your exhaust pipes, are your missile stocks. They each hold five plus the one in the chamber. That's twelve at a time total. You are in a vehicle test firing chamber. Have at it, whatever you feel like would be targets in such a chamber.
Izrael and Zeiran:
The pole slams into its place behind the lonely altar of the silent Reclusiam.
Zeiran watches and Izrael steps back from it, both taking in the view of it back aboard the Barge where it should be. A clear view this time, with no helmet lenses in front of the eyes.
What does it mean, the banner of justice. I once waved proud, believing true those words threaded into it. The chapter, the Scythes of the Emperor with justice at their backs. Was it a badge of authority to serve justice, a declaration of what they believed justice to be, something more even?
There were other banners of course, so many, that had all hung throughout the Fortress Monastery. What made Brother Krin requisition Scout Master Curak to the task of securing it over all the others during the Tyranid invasion of Sotha?
You think on these ideas for a bit, perhaps even discuss the matter with each other. Either way, when you both turn to leave you stop dead in your tracks at the two marines standing behind you. They are about half way between the doors of the Reclusiam, and your position.
It is Ryan and Zurick, both still in armor as well, though Ryan has removed his helm also. Ryan speaks,
"Way to almost get yourself killed, Zeiran. Not much glory coming back to the chapter anytime soon if you cant remember your battle training."
his voice is not one of taunt, but matter of fact.
"You though...," he says further, looking to Izrael and raising his index finger.
"Don't get me wrong Zeiran, your our brother and we'd hate to lose you to some pirates. But there are so few of us left; you have to understand our concern for those of us making such errors."
Zurick's wrathful throat reaches out suddenly form beneath his helm, "We can't afford mistakes."
"Its good you've stayed aloof for so long Izrael," says Ryan again, "its kept your head in the right place, I think."
Zurick turns first, as if fed up with being there. Ryan turns to follow, his handsome features and thick, shiny brown hair, accentuated by the Reclusiam's peculiar light systems and burning fires. He seems to pause for a second about to say something further, but decides against it. No longer trying to be quiet, apparently, their hip hanging weapons dankly clatter and chime of war as they walk.
Any reactions? Thoughts? Do either of you follow them, or make way somewhere else? whatever you do, do you two stay together or go your separate ways?
As you leave Thrasius and the chamber doors close behind you, the scope of everything you just learned starts to sink in. Even for psychologically trained Astartes, that was a lot of information to take in at once. Now that he is not before his new Lord, how does Cleomenes deal with this this info, what does he think of it? He seems to have remained stern an straight headed, that is good I'd say, but does this mean he believes the chapter can become what it once was?
About twelve hours later, you sit in your ambassadorial chapter robes gently scratching your pet, kindly returned to you by Tybaar, along with the rest of your belongings. Before you are the two you wished to speak with, brothers Ryan and Zurick.
They both still wear their war-plate, and only Ryan has his helmet at his waist's mag-lock.
Ryan speaks, rather warmly really, nothing hostile to it, "You wanted to speak with us, long lost brother?"
Where you are doesn't much matter to me, somewhere appropriate for the situation is all. its up to you. Main deal is pretty much whatever you'd like to say to them. If you think a back and forth convo is necessary again let me know.
Vermaas, Raxan, and Raziel:
Vermaas stays quiet during the walk to the armory and subsequently the recruit training area of the ship. For one reason or another, one could probably guess.
When the three of you arrive you immediately see the veteran-sergeant, shirtless with a training sword at his hip. It would be difficult for any for the remaining Scythes to say that Tobias doesn't bring about a breath of fresh air and warmth.
Idealistic to the letter for a commanding officer. The only stain on his record being the sergeant of the squad Astelan was a part of on Ferim, even if it was for only a very short period it of course is not something he is fond of.
The three of you walk in on what was apparently some form of lecture. The 32 boys stand in perfect lines facing Tobias. The developing muscle and scar tissue clear on their bodies, as is the exhaustion; obvious to your eyes despite their concentrated efforts on hiding it.
"And who do we have here?" Tobias asks, apparently to the boys, as they all answer him in unison, kneeling as they do so and putting their right hands over their hearts.
"Lord Raxan, Lord Raziel, Lord Vermaas."
Tobias says further, "It looks like my brothers have volunteered to give your lesson today in my stead. Split into three groups."
Tobias simply waves his arm toward you three and steps back.
Raxan and Raziel are approached by 11 boys each, and Vermaas 10. They stand up straight in attention in front of each of you. Give them a lesson. It can be of mental or physical value, or a combination of both, whatever seems important to you to teach them right now. We assume Tobias has not already taught them whatever you come with. It can be long or fairly short, but make sure its not like a one-sentence lesson or something.
You can never be prepared for the unexpected
Last edited by unxpekted22; 09-14-12 at 10:23 PM.