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As Everette walked behind Terivan, he noticed how much more splendid the station became on the higher levels. He was surprised he had to admit, based off of the view of this sation form space he would have guessed the whole thing to be nothing but a pile of junk.

It was oddly silent once the awe in his mind of the nice view was over, and hearing nothing but the ruffling of clothing as everyone walked was uncomfortable. He had to break the silence,

"The silence here is a bit unexpeced. Is there not normally more hustle and bustle than this Terivan?"

He asked with a raised eyebrow and something of a smirk that Terivan never turned around to see.

Soon enough the rogue trader, Leeds, revealed himself. Everette observed him with curiosity, amused that this man reminded him of several planetary governors that he had assisted in his time around the stars.

When guns were pulled Everette pursed his lips and his thumb and index fingers began tapping together silently, with the the thinnest layers of moisture beginning to form on them, as well as his palms.

A bit more subtle of you would please, Inquisitor. He found himelf thinking. He felt that he was once again about to be reminded why exactly this job was a good py raise from his last and then the trader disappeared in a cloud of smoke and the rounds came flying.

Gabrien threw up a shield, and the mercs now felt at home.

"Okay." was all Everette muttered as he turnd swiftly on his heel and made to run for cover. A firm hand gripped tightly just above that heel, and Gabrien shoved his alien pistol into Everette's chest giving him no choice but to take hold. He took hold ad tugged hi leg out of Gabrien's grip, but most likely was only able to do so by Gabrien's choice.

He sprinted into cover, his neat hair already starting to turn into a mess. He slid behind the base of one of the massive arches reaching towards the stars. So many loud noises were exploding toward his ears he cold hardly think. He scanned over te shuriken his hands and was smart enough to see it was defintiely designed for human like hands at least. He knew where the trigger was and which end to aim with. How much ammo it had, he had no clue.

He glanced around the arch to see sara and amber tugging at the wounded Inquisitor beind the statue of glorious guilliman....lucky bastard he thought.

His eyes widened as he found what appeared to be some easy targets. He raised the shuriken in the general direction and fired. The brightness of the rounds made him squint some. He stretched his neck back and forth trying to see if he had killed anyone. He some hands grabbing limbsnd shoulders but that was it. Fair enough he thought, an tried again.

This tme beyond the brightness he saw the splash of red. "Yes!" he shouted, but massive return fire sent him sprawling back behind cover, chunks of the arch flying to the ground as the corner was eaten away by slugs and las rounds.
 

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Reaper of Souls
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I walked at the back of the group as we made our way to the meeting with Leeds. I had one hand resting on the butt of my pistol and I was constantly scanning for threats. We were in Leeds’ domain now and I had little doubt that he was prepared to go to any lengths to keep it his. Killing who he thought was a trade baron would be nothing to a man like him. Killing an Inquisitor however, even a hardened criminal ought to know that such a thing was folly. If Leeds did manage to kill Gabrien I would personally geld him.

As Gabrien sat down with Leeds I guessed that he knew what his team would do to Leeds if he died from what he said to the Rogue Trader.

It seemed everything would go smoothly, something that was a rarity when in the retinue of an Inquisitor like Gabrien but then Leeds froze. “Who are you? And no more lies this time!” He snarled, bringing the pistol up once again to point it at Gabrien’s head. “There is an Imperial warship nearing this station, a ship which is closing in unchallenged.” I did a double take. It couldn’t possibly be right, the only ship nearby that would match that description was the Endless Absolution and the crew weren’t foolish enough to do such a stupid thing.

Gabrien sighed. “Well this is most troubling indeed. Time for this charade to be dropped then; I did not lie to you when I claimed to be the source of your troubles. However Nathaniel Leeds, I am no trade baron and my name is not Goliath Barnabass. It is actually Iresmis Gabrien of the Emperor’s mostly holy inquisition and you are found guilty of violating His edicts in trading in forbidden xenos technology. For this crime, the warrant of trade granted to your bloodline is forfeit and you are to come with me for judgment.” This was all said very calmly, even as Leeds’ face paled.

Then Gabrien pulled out his pistol and put a shuriken through Slavek’s head. “Also, I thank you for arranging this meeting Reoul but your use to the Inquisition is at an end,” he said, just as calmly.

I stopped listening to Leeds and gripped the hilt of my pistol. My gaze was fixed on the Rogue Trader’s hired help. Then Leeds vanished and all hell broke loose. I was already moving, my pistol coming up as I dived for cover. I hit the ground and rolled, coming up into a crouch and firing three shots. They hit a mercenary, two in the chest and one in the head and he fell, though his helmet saved his life. I darted into cover and stayed there as a punishing barrage of fire smote my cover. A las bolt punched through just above my ear and I flinched.

Normally I could boast of better training than my foe but these were definitely ex-guard. They kept me pinned. I started to count the shots and the timing between one man reloading and another opening fire. Then I stood and instantly guns were trained on me.

I held my pistol in a two handed grip and fired. I first shot took a mercenary in the face, snapping his head back with the impact. My second and third hit another mercenary in the chest, though his armour held. My fourth hit the grenade at his waist and I ducked back into cover as it went off. The explosion killed the mercenary in a ball of flame and I dropped another with two shots before ducking back into cover. Fire pounded my cover and I was forced to dive away from it as shots punched through, almost hitting me. I was in the open and I could see the savage grins on the faces of the mercenaries as they trained their guns on me. I fired and my shot hit a lasgun in the power pack. The detonation vaporised the man holding the weapon and blinded the others, giving me enough time to dive into another piece of cover.
 

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Unfinished Project King
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Grex smiled, a languid, wolfish, grin splitting his face as the functionary's face brimmed with annoyance. The man's obvious irritation brought on by Amber's statement, her dismissive tone, was soothing, pleasurable. Selnak had always said to himself that if a bureaucrat wasn't angry you weren't doing your job right. His enjoyment of the man's displeasure heightened even more as the stuffy git's gaze flitted in his and Kreshk's direction. The look on the man's face, the way he clamped fearful lips closed, killing whatever response that was on his tongue before it slipped through his teeth. Grex enjoyed inspiring fear... It was something he was good at, something that came as easy as breathing. He almost laughed as the man quickly turned away, waving them toward a lift terminal.

The other's spoke, trivialities that barely glanced upon his conciousness, as he watched their surroundings and their guide. The beauty of the gallerias, the gardens, the exotic animals clearly visible around them, were lost on Selnak as he walked with the group. His eyes darting to the things that the enemy would not want him to see, the security cameras carefully concealed by plants or decorative statues. The teired terraces that more than likely held snipers or gunmen. The feeling of unease, the slight pinch at the base of his spine, tightened, his hands almost caressing his guns, the feeling of violent tension a palpable feeling to him. Glancing sideways he could tell that Kreshk felt the same, the Kroots quills almost vibrating with tension.

This place, its splendure and granduer, was too empty. There were not enough people traversing its walkways, and something about the emptiness made the knot in his stomach grow. Rolling his shoulders, settling his weapons, his eyes sought evermore a reason for his unease, a culprit that he could identify, an enemy to engage. The servants and attendants in evidence were far to stiff, to uneasy with the tasks they were completing, there was definitely something wront here. Grex felt like they were walking into a trap.

The conversation between the man that identified himself as Leeds and the Inquistor was brief and to the point and Leeds produced a crate of weapons that Selnak was all to familiar with. He didn't need Kreshk's pronouncement to verify the fact that the rifles displayed were Tau in origin. It also didn't take long for things to go to shit. Leeds began accusing the Inquistor of collusion with an Imperial Warship that was apparently closing in on the station. There was a split second of silence, as if both sides of the impending conflict were steeling themselves, and then the gun fire started.

The mercenaries got the drop on the Inquistor's crew, but not by much and Grex felt his pistols jumping into his hands as the first round whizzed by his left ear, the caustic smell of lasfire and singed hair barely making him blink. This was his world, this was what the inquistor kept him around for. His pistols barked twice, his attention on two targets standing near to one another. The smoke from his guns curled around the barrels and wafted back toward him as he moved. The acrid smell causing his pulse to quicken, his adrenaline to flow. He watched as his opponents fell to the deck, one quickly, limply, a neat hole in the center of forehead, a fine red spray misting behind, the second spun around from a round to the shoulder. then tossed forward on his face from a round to his back as Selnak's right hand pistol spoke once more. A burning sensation, a sudden pain in his arm, forced him to look down momentarily as he moved, a solid round, still hot and smoking had embedded itself in the armor on his left forearm. He would have a nice bruise, it would be sore, but no lasting damage. "Move on," he told himself, "Pain is momentary."

Casually, unpreterbed, unruffled, Selnak joined Demetrius and Methanor behind a low wall. The pilot and the psyker looked tense, the raging fire of gunshots not their preferred arena, but Grex knew that they would do as needed. That they would step up as they had many times before. His pistols, his prized companions found their homes in their holsters, as he slowly, almost reverently drew his shotgun from its place over his left shoulder. "I will get whatever comes close. You two just keep firing, keep them at a distance," He shouted to his companions. Standing, calm, unphased by the fire that came against them, though noting that it was well disciplined, meted out in volleys and overlapping ranks. His arms slowly and methodically worked the weapon in his hand, each shot well placed. Whenever the weapon barked one of the enemy fell, torso mangled, head vaporized from the heavy rounds of the shotgun. Four men fell, dead before they came to rest, before his breath was ripped from his lungs and a force unseen threw him to his back were he was left gasping for air.
 

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Looking at Terivan one did not need to be a psyker to tell he was irritated at Amber's tone. However one look at Grex and the Kroot was enough to stall any words that he might have said. Demetrius could read the fear on the man, and chuckled slightly at the thoughts of death at the hands of the kroot that wound their way through Terivans feeble little mind. Withdrawing from his thoughts he followed the dockmaster to the elevator with the rest of his group and tried to ignore the feeling of panic that gripped him as they entered.

"It's okay, It's okay, It's okay." were the words he muttered to himself over and over until he stepped off the elevator, the panic that is his never ending companion receding in the face of the elegant beauty of the galleria. Raising his head to follow one of the arches he gasped as he saw that a void shield was all that stood between them and the cold kiss of the abyss. Looking at some of the exotic fauna, he spotted several servants going about and was about to probe their minds when Gabrien spoke, calling out to Leeds to reveal himself. Watching Nathaniel Leeds step out, Demetrius once again found himself yearning for his robes that were back on their ship, and once again he cursed his luck at having been stuck in the uncomfortable flight suit. As Leeds and Gabrien conversed, Demetrius began inspecting the minds of the people going about their business, and what he found sent a cold chill down his spine. Mercenaries. Before he could get a warning to Gabrien he found that Leeds had pulled a pistol and so had the so called "servants".

Watching the back and forth between the Inquisitor and Nathaniel tensely, the astropath relaxed as weapons were lowered and a crate was brought out. The kroot began inspecting what appeared to be Tau weapons, and Demetrius smiled slightly at the sight of the hole in one of them. Then before he could blink all hell broke loose. The last thing he saw before diving for cover was Gabrien executing Slavek and Leeds snarling and dissapearing.

Pulling his las pistol from it's holster he fired several times at the mercenaries simply to keep their heads down and give his companions time to reach cover. He shivered slightly as he heard the Kroot squawk before the screams that usually accompanied the xeno disemboweling people erupted in the galleria. Looking to his left and right he saw that he shared cover with Methanor and Grex, the former firing pistol rounds into several mercenaries and the latter reverently pulling his shotgun from his back. "I will get whatever comes close. You two just keep firing, keep them at a distance," Grex shouted at them, and Demetrius was all to happy to comply.

Suddenly Grex was knocked back, a round having slammed into his chest. Demetrius reached out and pulled him back into cover before sitting with his back against the low wall. The astropath closed his eyes, and the air around him went slightly colder as he reached into himself and drew up his power. Zeroing in on the weakest willed of the group of mercenaries around them he began bombarding him with his own memories of things that lived in the warp, making the man believe that daemons had come for his soul and were materializing around him. At first the man froze in fear, a puddle of urine seeping it's way out of his garments. Demetrius frowned, thinking he had picked the wrong man before a shriek of pure terror pierced the air. The mercenary began firing at everyone around him killing two of his fellows before he was put down. Gasping for air Demetrius fell onto his side, the exertion of driving the man insane having exhausted him. Blackness threatened to overwhelm him and he struggled to remain conscious as the firefight raged.
 

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Kreshk; Before you can even begin looking for anyone else to fight, you get the feeling of imminent danger from somewhere just beyond your sight. Without thinking, you sidestep while turning in time to see one more mercenary pull the trigger on his shotgun. Pain blossoms along your arm and side, forcing the rifle from your clawed grip and sending you back into the stone and metal wall.

Not for the first time your unnatural senses have been cause to preserve your life, had you not acted that shot from so close would have taken your arm. Instead, the buckshot merely clipped you in a dozen places; enough to pierce flesh and cause pain but not enough to put you down. The warrior racks the slide of his weapon and aims for your chest, however before he has a chance to level the weapon and fire you are on him.

Stepping in close, you hook the gun under your injured arm, forcing the warrior to fire at nothing before you draw one of your knives and stab the man in the neck. As he bleeds out, new arrivals come in from the far portal, more heavily armoured than these soldiers; they are likely station defense teams alerted, or more likely tipped off, to the fighting. Methanor is between you and them, finishing off another of the mercenaries, but it does not seems as though he is aware of the danger behind him.

[Act quickly; from the direction these new arrivals have come Methanor is in the open. You will be able to either rush them, picking up your weapon in the process, or rush to the pilot and get him out of the way.]


Methanor; Diving to the nearest cover you can find, you roll up in time to come face to face with a mercenary looking to flank the others. The man doesn’t miss a beat, charging into you and throwing you to the ground as the wind is driven from your lungs. The soldier attempts to deliver his heel into your face but you roll away, lashing out with your own leg and forcing him to fall down.

Somehow the man is on you before you can recover, a knife held in one hand while his other pins your right hand and pistol to the ground. You try to keep the knife back, but the merc is on top of you, able to use his mass as leverage. Just as the blade is about to pierce your throat you kick up between his legs and he howls in pain before you roll him off. Without another thought, you bring your pistol up and put a shot through his eye, silencing him for good while you regain your bearings.

[Take a moment for the world to stop spinning, movement out of the corner of your eye will alert you to action from Kreshk. However how you respond depends entirely on what he chooses to do; should the kroot charge at you there will be confusion, should he charge at something else, there will be less.]


Demetrius; Your efforts are rewarded by one of the mercenaries shrieking in pain before turning his gun on those closest to him. This act greatly lessens the return fire from the soldiers, but at the same time your limbs go heavy and it takes every ounce of strength you have not to smash your face against the stone. Without warning, something vast and terrible grips your heart and everything seems to slow down.

A voice attempts to whisper words to you in a sickly sweet voice, but your mental defenses block the sounds from forming into words. You lash out with your mind, attempting to hurl the thing back from whence it came, and everything starts to move as it should. But then the voice comes back with renewed strength, stripping all sense of colour from your vision and leaving a terrible ringing in your ears.

This time the voices words are something of a whisper, slowly stripping away at your defenses. However the image Gabrien had burned into your mind, that of his previous astropath, comes to the fore and gives you the strength to shut the voice away. As everything returns to normal you collapse to the ground next to Grex in time to see him throw something away, before an explosion elicits some more screaming.

[Your body can’t decide if its more drained or in pain, and your limbs feel like lead when you go to move them. Looking to the others you lock eyes with the inquisitor and some of the fatigue leaves you; did he aid you in fighting off the voice just now? Regardless, you push out with your mind in time to warn Grex of four more enemies approaching, these ones more heavily armoured than the mercenaries.]


Grex; You hit the ground hard, smacking the back of your head on stone and bringing stars to your eyes. Someone hauls you from the ground and into cover, Demetrius if you were to guess, but then the psyker locks up before he can do anything more. With your vision still swimming you swivel around, gritting your teeth against the pain in your chest and taking a shot at the nearest enemy, catching him full on in the groin before return fire chews up the stone at your face and you have to duck away.

Something cylindrical and metallic bounces off your boot and rolls between your legs. Without thinking you grab the grenade and toss it behind you, back from whence it came, and hear the thing bounce once amidst cursing before it detonates. Swiveling around again you see that three more mercenaries were caught in the blast and two more were wounded, which you correct in short order before settling back into cover.

[As you do Demetrius will recover, informing you of more, heavily armoured, enemies approaching. They are station arbitrators, clad in carapace armour and toting shotguns; your weapons are more than strong enough to hurt these guys, and you will put a round in ones mouth before being forced back down. Kreshk and Methanor are nowhere in sight, might be time to head for a different spot and reassess this situation.]


Sara; A quick check of Gabriens leg is less than pleasing. His kneecap is a ruined mess, that round likely having been something along armour piercing caliber. There are shards of his tibia exposed and it looks like a good portion of the patella was blown away; in addition the amount of blood flowing before Amber tied the inquisitors leg was enough to let you know that the artery was likely nicked. Because of the robes and role you were playing, you were unable to bring your medicae kit, and this wound required more than just adhoc triage.

“Do not let His divine serveant perish in this hell healer.” A gruff voice called from behind you before a worn basic med-pack was dropped to your side. You knew the voice, that of steward-sergeant Rivas of the Chem-dogs that comprised two thirds of Gabriens military might. He and trooper Midlin had volunteered to act as Slaveks escort and now that things had gone sour they were providing what cover they could.

[The pack contains limited and basic supplies, no pain-killers and only a small amount of gauze and binding sealant. It does still have the mini-cauterizer, which is needed for stopping the bleeding. That act is paramount to anything else, and without a thought everything around you is forgotten and you get to work on splinting the inquisitors leg.]


Amber; Firing Sara’s bolt pistol is an experience in and of itself, the kick on the thing nearly breaks your arm and the bruise it’s going to leave on your cheek is nothing to smile about. You had been aiming for the mercenaries chest, but recoil instead saw the explosive round hit, and then blow away, his arm. The soldier hit the floor screaming but otherwise unphased his compatriots who continued on towards you. Another two booming shots saw you take another in the leg and blow the head off a statue, but the third mercenary made it to you unscathed.

The man rams the butt of his autogun into your gut, forcing you down before a thick knee hits you in the chin and onto your back. He gives you a wicked, half toothed smile while aiming his gun down at you a moment before his face becomes a blackened cratered from a lasbeam. Three more shots connect with his chest and throw the now corpse into the statue of Guilliman.

“Up with go my lovely.” A voice, accompanied by a firm grip around your arm, says while bringing you back up to your feet. “You really are going to have to dish out someday for all the times I save you.” The voice adds before its owner steps forward and lays down a whithering hail of las-fire from his gun. He is trooper Midlin, considered one of the more trust-worthy members of the Savlar Chem-dogs who operate under Gabriens command. He and the ever disapproving steward-sergeant Rivas had volunteered to act as Slaveks guards on this trip; though now they were two more welcome guns in this ever dwindling firefight.

[Rivas appears to be covering Everette while Midlin is with you. You see the younger soldier pick up the fallen mercenaries lasgun and can either choose to take it or stick with yours or Sara’s pistol. The difference is a matter of lethality or familiarity, you can adjust to the bolt pistols recoil but have no reloads for it, and the pair of more heavily armoured soldiers coming your way might be able to shrug off las-rounds.]


Everette; The return fire finally dies down enough for you to risk a glance, when you do you wish you hadn’t as you see one of the mercenaries taking something from his belt. That can only be a grenade of some sort, and it will be lobbed in your direction no doubt. Thinking quick, you pull the trigger on Gabriens alien pistol and let fly with a torrent of shots, or more accurately a hail of shurikens. Even with the fighting going on you can’t help but marvel at the strangeness of the Eldar weapon. It was lighter than it looked, appeared to be one solid piece, and fire thin discs rather than bullets.

In other situations the weapon would be completely disconcerting, but given what was going on, best to worry about that later. Your shots mostly miss their mark, though one does clip the soldiers shoulder and force him to hold off on throwing his grenade. But support fire keeps you from aiming properly and it is only a matter of time before that grenade comes to meet you.

“By His divine might do I pass judgment on you wretches!” A gruff voice bellows from off to your side before a spattering of lasbolts pepper the mercenaries position. The one with the grenade had chosen that exact moment to get up and so took a shot square in the chest, dropping his grenade and forcing the two others with him to scramble away.

“Cover me historian, I shall deal with these currs.” Steward-sergeant Rivas calmly says to you while striding forward and sending another trio of lasbolts at the remaining mercenaries.

[Rivas rather scares you, partly because of the Savlar reputation and partly because he seems as zealous as some of the more hard-line priests you have seen over the years. But better he draws their fire then you. With careful aiming you manage to put a shot into one mercenaries forehead before two more heavily armoured soldiers come at the pair of you. These two are able to shrug off the better part of Rivas’s shots, though those of yours that connect manage to embed themselves quite well, or in one case slice right through a shoulder guard. That is until the pistol clicks dry.]


[For some of you there is to be more, coming to you in the next day or two via PM. These messages may include additional information, instructions, or injuries sustained. Some reactions in this are dependent on the actions of others, do not feel as though you must wait on them if you find that you can respond sooner. There is nothing wrong with two posts after all.]
 
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