A Decade on the Edge (Game Thread: Closed, Dead)

[Anti-American Eagle]

[HEADING=1]A Decade on the Edge[/HEADING]

In the "grim darkness" of the Fourty First millennia there is... only war? No, I'm sure there's more to it than that.​

[hr]The Co-GM for the game is [user]Mcpop9[/user].

Spoiler: Rules

1. My word is law... Here anyway.

2. Use basic grammar. If I can't understand you, then there's no point in you posting.

3. Actions have consequences.

4. If your character dies, you are free to submit a new one.

5. If you aren't accepted, don't post in the game thread after it starts.

6. Keep anything that might get you banned from the forums out of the thread and to PM's.

7. Don't be a Dick.

The Sign-Up Thread is Here: Sign-Up Thread
[hr]

One month ago a mighty ship came screaming out of the void towards the hive world of Ferrus Continentia. News would quickly spread that this was the Valiant Light, the flagship of a famous or perhaps infamous Rogue Trader named Joseph Kurtz. The Valiant Light as designed was an Exorcist Class Grand Cruiser, purchased from the navy as it was being consigned to its grave. It was a ship that fit its new purpose perfectly, exploration of the fringes of the galaxy.

But the stories behind this ship and the man who owned it were the stories of another time. The ship quickly made orbit above the world and began sending down shuttles filled with men to construct recruitment centers. Ferrus Continentia as they were telling those who came to them was the final place they were to visit before they began their journey.

This Journey as men were told was into the perilous area known as the Halo Stars. The part of the universe where even the emperor couldn't see. The contract promised an equal share of the wealth, enough to make a man rich ten times over some promised. All that was asked was ten years of loyal service and afterwards silence about what happened out there. Illegality was rife in the trade of the artifacts from that far out.

You are one of many. You have either signed up or are on your way to the recruitment centers. You may already be onboard the Valiant Light or perhaps you're planet side. This is up to you.

This is the story of many and by the end it will likely be the story of few. Good Luck.

 

[Outcast107]

Kurt was standing guard inside one of the many recruitment center that were built by the crew of the Valiant Light. He had hope that Lord Joseph Kurtz would have let him stay on board the ship. Wanting to watch over the Joseph more then watching over a recruitment center. Kurt didn't trust the crew at all due to how many of them sign up for this mission.

Kurt rarely trust anyone these days beside Joseph. Joseph knows how to talk to Kurt. By just giving him orders to be fulfilled. Kurt wishes for nothing more then to do this job and perhaps one day die in a glorious way he was meant to so long ago. His days of serving the Emperor continues, though in a different way. He would make sure his new Commander is safe from any vile xeno, mutated or heretic that dares attack the ship.

Kurt kept his eyes on his surroundings as more people began to show up to sign up for duty. He didn't believe half of them would even make it out in the Galaxy. Though he was surprise he could spot a few that seem to be able to hold themselves against what the galaxy might throw at them.

 

[DefunctTheory]

Gordon Kasteen - Downhive Bar and Strip Club

Kasteen slumps down onto the bar stool and lets out a sigh. 'Shouldn't be such a spender,' he thought to himself. Three days after he got his signing bonus with the Valiant Light, and already a forth of it belonged to the Madams of the hive. He's not sure what more infuriating, his lack of thrift or the ugly customer tax that always seems to be going up. 'Drinks the poor mans pleasure,' he continued to himself. 'You can dance forever, but drink ends the evening on its own.'

He motions to the bartender, a fat old slob missing at least three fingers who nods back in his direction. No need to specify your preference in a dump like this - there's only the bad stuff made out back in a rusty barrel, or the worse stuff made in the lab on the other side of the hab block. Kasteen wasn't a fan of the latter, but he loves the former. His order on the way, Kasteen lights a lho-stick and turns his back to the bartender, looking out over the rest of the bar. Years in the Guard had taught Kasteen the need for constant situational awareness, something hard to do facing a wall covered in bottles, but he couldn't sit at one of the booths where he'd get a better view. Waitresses had an odd tendency to forget he needed serving.

'Nasty bunch' he considered. But no nastier then Kasteen was used to. Plenty of threats around the room, but no one appeared to be angry at him, so it was a step up from the usual. A grunt from behind signals that his drink has arrived. Kasteen swings back around and tosses a throne gelt on the table. The bartender quickly palms it, and turns to move on.

"Rapid fire, my friend," Kasteen says to the bartender's back. "I got places to be, and no wish to venture to them sober." The grunt offered in reply was sufficient. Breathing deeply from his lho-stick, and drinking deeply from the dirty glass set before him, Kasteen considers the future. A trip into unknown space, to bring the light of the Golden Throne to worlds long untouched by the God-Emperor's might. As good a job as he was likely to get.

Kasteen flicks the nub of his burned out smoke onto the floor, and seeing the bartender turn his way, upturns his glass, guzzling it empty while motioning for another. 'Just hope there's no Green Skins out there.'

'I hate Green Skins.'

 

[mcpop9]

Vanessa Gavrilov

The commisar pulled up her stockings, then giving a smack on the ass to the girl laying in a pile on the floor in her dressing room. Some stripper that had been boasting about how great she was. "four out of ten." she said, fastening her belt and standing up. Weapons? Check. Clothes? Check. Flask? Check. Flask 2? Check.

Hat?

Nope. "Fuck..." she said and looked around, spotting it on the floor, a bit of dust on it. "What a *****." she said out loud, stepping over the girl and picking up the hat, dusting it off before leaving the girl hog tied and bound to the radiator. She was left clothed ofcourse, no need to go all barbaric.

Coming out of the room, she looked around, then saw a way with people leaving out of it, a pair of curtains, not unsimilar to the one she walked in (let's face it, these joints were very lacking in diversity.). The commisar walked to the door and out onto some kind of runway. There were too many bright lights for her to see clearly.

"Ugh! this is my floor time! get off it you skank!" said some silhouetted female. She could tell from the outline it was one of the strippers. This one let loose a slap that went and richet off of Vanessa's face, the commissar lowering her vision into a glare. The sight on stage could have been mistaken for a fight between strippers, cause let's face it. Vanessa is hauling a pair of large caliber cannons on her chest and her commissariat dress is not a formal uniform.

However, this poor stripper realized her mistake when the harsh gaze fell over her and the swiftness that the humm of the powersaber filled the air made it apparent she meant business. The crowd was quiet and watched as the pieces of cloth fell to the floor and left the stripper nude in the middle of the room. She quickly ran off stage and the commisar walked up to center stage. She looked around at some of the faces; horrified, aroused, confused, horroused, none of it was what she hadn't seen before.

"The fuck you looking at? go back to getting smashed and jacking it you excuses for lives." she said, taking out her flask and opening it with a single hand, other still wielding the sword and drinking down a gulp of the fine whiskey before putting it away and hopping down. she hilted her sword in its sheath before walking over to the bar, leaning against it and looking around, happening to lean next to the (by the looks of it) ex guardsman.

 

[DefunctTheory]

Gordon Kasteen - Downhive Bar and Strip Club

"Shit."

It was the only word Kasteen could think of that described the spectacle before him. He'd seen the stripper runway when he walked into this piss hole, but he had tried his best to ignore it. Too much temptation for a thing he'd done plenty enough of for the day. But a shape out of the corner of his eye had caught in his mind, and even drunk Kasteen wasn't dull enough to let that go.

He was disappointed. A crude sexy commissar up for a swing and a turn for some thrones. Kasteen could see how the attire could be appealing to the average citizen - the uniform was made to impress, and everyone loves the hat. A few buttons popped here, an extra leather strap there, perhaps a cheap imitation power whip to lazily twirl about. It all makes for a good show.

Having seen commissars in action for decades, loyalist and heretic, the appeal was largely lost on Kasteen.

Completely uninterested, Kasteen looks back to his drink, and reaches into his pocket for his lho-sticks. As he fumbles for his lighter, he hears a racket from the runway. Reflexively reaching for his laspistol, Kasteen spins in the direction of the ruckus, only to find himself with that single word.

A naked stripper steaks off the runway, shrieking in fear, while most of the patrons looking for a show stare slack jawed at the stage. A few of them, most of which Kasteen marks as ex-guardsman, well past their prime ('You shouldn't judge'), are fleeing from the scene as well. And standing tall and proud, like heroes from propaganda posters at the Imperial Guard Schola, was the fancy stripper from before.

With a power sword.

"Shit," Kasteen mutters. "Again."

Too late he recognizes the not-so-sexy wool, the weight of real laspistols, and the unmistakable Commissarial crest on the high peaked hat, which no one could replicate, and even if they could they'd be shot on sight for wearing it. And, damn his drunken eyes, he was far to late recognizing that, with the stripper suitably berated for whatever slight she offered the commissar, she was walking his way.

'You're not a guard anymore. No need to run,' Kasteen thought to himself, though the reflexive part of his mind was torn between standing too and simply fleeing the establishment. Instead, he takes his hand off his laspistol and picks up his lighter. As the commissar walks towards him, he lights his lho-stick, which until this point was tucked in the corner of his mouth, long forgotten. The commissar, now leaning against the bar, looks directly at him, as if expecting something from him. Kasteen chokes down years of training and experience, and responds to her arrival like he would any other unwanted guest he couldn't simply shoot.

"Smoke?" he says, sliding the lighter and lho-stick pack across the bar.

 

[Athol]

The crowd scattered like snowflakes before a storm as Brother Frostclaw made his way through the packed thoroughfare of the Hive city. Wither it was because of awe or fear of himself, or abject terror of Skoll, Maarku was unsure but it always amused him. The heavy footfalls of his armour, and the rattle of bones that adorned it drew the attention of those that missed him looming over the crowd of civilians.

Moving at an easy pace, he and Skoll made straight for one of the recruitment centres that Captain Kurtz had set up on one of the upper floors of the city. Approaching the centre, he whistled and pointed to a spot near the door, Skoll huffed in annoyance, but obeyed, laying down at the point he'd indicated; even laying down she still came up to most men's shoulders.

Maarku had been travelling aboard a Chapter cruiser, when it intercepted a message from the rogue trader vessel Valiant Light stating she was heading towards the Halo Stars. Upon hearing that, Maarku had the cruiser drop him off on a Hive World ahead of the rogue trader vessel; rather than delay his 'younger' Brothers in his quest to re-join his Company, he would travel with the Valiant Light until such an opportunity presented itself. Ducking a fair bit to clear the top of the door frame, he stepped inside and found him staring down at a rather astonished recruiter; and a bunch of potentials who looked like they wanted to run...or bow...or possibly both.

"I am Brother Maarku Frostclaw, Thirteenth Great Company of His Emperor's Space Wolves." He stated in a deep, rumbling voice. "I would like to offer the services of myself and my companion to Captain Kurtz and the Valiant Light until such time as we make contact with my Brothers of the Thirteenth. At such time me and my companion will be parting company with the vessel."

 

[booksv2]

Smoke


Lowering himself out of a half opened grating that was set in the ceiling of the mess hall and towards the floor he allows himself to drop from halfway out of the pipe inside the ceiling down to the floor. Pushing the grating closed by reaching up Smoke barely has to stretch above to do so, even in the relatively large room he is in the ceiling still is within easy reach of his stretched out body. Using the claws at the end of his hand to reach through the grating and close the small latch located on the inside Smoke hunches down to step through a hatchway.

Muttering to himself in his own language clicks and light hisses rebounded down the different halls and hatchways for meters in all directions.
Last time I stepped outside I was chased by hundreds of things and I did not even feed on any there. If I leave again it will happen again.

Frowning more and reaching up inside one of the connecting hallways he opens the grating on a fairly large pipeline in the wall and climbs inside. Closing it behind himself without turning around he moves forward using his almost impossibly long arms and legs, his skin tacky and almost sticky as he does. Getting to where the pipe separates he twists his body and climbs in the more upward direction until he comes to one of the larger pipes feeding air to the others. Moving faster and pulling himself up and over a lip he drops into a now closed off section of piping with bundles of blankets and some lights patched into wiring inside the wall. Rummaging around Smoke pulls out a earpiece and slides it onto his ear before pausing. This time talking in the more common language.
"And who should I be asking to go out for things. I know none of the new people and none of the old."

Sitting in the pile of blankets and leaning back Smoke pushes them around until they are more comfortable before laying back again and tapping the back of the claws on his left hand on the side of the heavy piping.
"I should just send out a random question and see who answers it. That's not a bad idea right."

Stretching his already long arm over he picks up the small pouch holding his thrones from when he had joined he can feel just from its weight that most of them were still inside it. Tossing it a few inches into the air Smoke grabs the bag before it drops and tosses it into the corner of his makeshift-new-private room. Starting to activate his communicator, failing the first time because he was only shown how to use them when he signed, Smoke stops and shakes his head.

Standing and pulling himself over the lip of the pipe he falls into the larger one on the other side and slides down till be grabs onto the inner lip of a smaller one. Pulling himself through and popping open the grating he grabs onto the rungs on the inside of the pipe and uses them to lower himself down to the floor. Closing the grating again and moving back down the hallway towards the kitchen Smoke quickly moves through the mess and into the kitchen beyond and reaches deep into the chilled area to pull out a foot long chunk of meat. Holding it in one hand and walking back into the mess hall he sits on the uncomfortable short stools and starts pulling the meat apart with his hands and eating it as he waits for others of this new and bound to be interesting crew to show up.

 

[Sithmorack]

When the crowd began to back up towards him, Jack looked towards the commotion from his position. He was currently towards the back of the crowd scoping out the recruitment centers. Wearing what appeared to be a few layers of miscellaneous clothes. Under the layers however he was currently packing his Voss Mk 10 and Power Blade. His other weapons were simply too big to carry unnoticed so he had stashed them at a (somewhat) safe location for now. He was also wearing a pair of sunglasses to cover up his not so unnoticeable eye. He had already signed up himself, using some of the signing bonus to get stocked for the trip.

Jack had been scouting out the recruitment centers and trying to make sure none of his previous hunters were signing on to follow him. He couldn?t be everywhere at once so one of them could have snuck in but he was pretty sure he was safe for the moment. Sure it was unlikely they?d find him so quickly but one could never be paranoi- sure enough. Plus it gave him an update on a few of the members that had joined after him.

Like the mountain of a man walking towards the recruitment outpost now. If the size alone wasn?t enough to scare you off, the gear he was packing would do the trick, or if all else failed he wouldn?t even have to lift a finger. The wolf near him looked like it could take most everyone currently in the crowd. Plus the man gave off a certain aura that said ?Don?t fuck with me.? Not like he was going to. He was just here to make sure that none of his pursuers were coming after him.

After the man dismissed his wolf, he went to sign up and Jack heard something about Brother Maarku and Space Wolves. ?That makes some sense? Jack thought while eyeing Maarku?s wolf. He tried listening in more but was drowned out by the sound of the crowd. A frown formed on Jack?s face as he tried to get a little closer. Then Maarku turned at just the wrong moment. For a split second the two made eye contact. ?Shit? Was all Jack thought, as he immediately looked away and tried to make his was back through the crowd as discretely as possible.

 

[Anti-American Eagle]

The recruiter stared meekly at the Space Wolf attempting to figure out how to respond before bowing and quickly canting something into a vox. "Sire the contract offered is binding in imperial law. However I'm sure my lord would be more than happy to offer you transportation in exchange for your services." A short cant came through after he finished speaking and then he continued "A representative of my lord wishes to speak to you."

After a few minutes a valkyrie landed on the roof of the building and shortly after a clean shaven man wearing a red greatcoat appeared through a door behind the counter. The man quickly took stock of the situation and approached the Space Wolf as confidently as a man could approach an Astartes.

The man extended his hand to shake and spoke "First Lieutenant Volkov at your Service. What can we do for you Sire?"

 

[sage42]

Natasha stood from her kneeling position at the foot of her small cot, her prayers finished. She raised her arms above her head, stretching as she moved towards her armor set neatly in the corner of her small room. When she had asked for a private room, Captain Kurtz had offered her something far more spacious than she needed. Thankfully she had been able to talk him down to a minor officers quarters. She clenched her left hand adjusting to her gauntlet as it was latched down. She grabbed her Bolt Pistol from where it rested on a small table, and attached it at her hip next to a portable copy of The Emperors Litanies.

She made her way to the mess hall, hoping to grab a quick meal before the new hires made it onto the ship. Just her luck to find carrion Xeno chewing through a frozen hunk of meat. Her hand instinctively went to her pistol as her mouth turned to a scowl. Slowly she let her hand drop and wrestled the scowl from her face. Now now Natasha, Xeno guns are not uncommon on the ships of Rogue Traders, you knew this when you volunteered. Chances are you have yet to meet the worst the Captain is willing to hire. She made her way past the Xeno and into the kitchen, her appetite gone.

She instead grabbed a glass of water, and sat a table away from the counter at which the Xeno had sat it self. She pulled Her small book from her hip and began reading, occasionally her eyes would flick up to check that the creature wouldn't try anything.

 

[Athol]

His eye's swept the crowd briefly, and he was heartened to see a few hold his gaze. At least some of them have spine. He thought, idly while the recruiter talked to his Masters.

"A representative of my lord wishes to speak to you."

"Very well." He replied. Despite the brutish appearance, and the opinion of some of the other Chapters, a Space Wolf was as capable as any of the more 'civilized' Chapters at polite discourse. After a brief wait a Valkyrie landed, and a ships officer approached.

"First Lieutenant Volkov at your Service. What can we do for you Sire?"

"Greetings First Lieutenant." He replied, carefully shaking the man's hand, so to not cripple the poor fellow. "As I stated to you fellow here, me and my companion, Skoll, wish to offer our services to you Captain; with the understanding that should I encounter any elements of my Brothers of my Great Company during the trip, we shall depart from his service immediately. Since Rouge Traders seem to place an emphasis on financial gain, I will also offer this as an incentive. I will renounce any claim on items of value, barring those that may assist me and my Brothers in our ongoing Hunt, such as arms and munitions befitting a Space Marine."

 

[booksv2]

The air being pushed through the pipes in the ship carry many smells to Smoke, the vast majority from things far away and of no interest. But not this time, this time they carried the smell of a battle hardened female human. turning his head slightly to look at the hatch as she walks through he can see her reach for her gun and her face hardening as she saw him. Sighing and tearing the meat in front of him more forcefully Smoke eats it as he turns his head back away so he can no longer see the female, even though her smell and position are carried to him through the small movements in the air.

As she walks behind him and into the kitchen then back out Smoke once again looks over at her. His own eyes meeting her when she glances up he stares as she reads. Tearing the meat apart and eating the last few handfuls he can feel the energy pockets in his body topping off. Now turning more towards the battle woman Smoke looks her over more closely, the gun on her waist used and her mastery obvious with her stance even sitting.

Slowly standing from the much to low stool and moving over half way towards her Smoke sits again now much closer. Shifting around in his seat for a few moments as he once again gets used to the uncomfortable position. Leaning against the to low counter almost laying his upper body on it to get comfortable he talks at the female down at the end of this low low table.
"You smell of hard battles and harder victory's. Few have i seen so hard who did not attack right on sight. Why?"

 

[sage42]

"You smell of hard battles and harder victory's. Few have i seen so hard who did not attack right on sight. Why?"

Natasha quirked an eye brow at this, and debated weather or not she would even dignify it with an answer. Against her better judgement she gave one. "I have a few reasons not to attack you on sight, Kroot." She said turning a page. "Most of them boil down to you just not being worth the shell it would take to drop you. But the main reason is simply that you were hired here on this ship. I do not trust you, I do not like you, It wouldn't be too much to say I actually loathe you. But I signed on knowing that the Captain may hire those like yourself, and so long as you are under his employ and do not betray whatever trust he has given you, you will not find my weapons aimed at you."

As she began to read again a thought fluttered through her mind. Not to mention what I could learn off of you creature. You may not be a major enemy of the Imperium, but the more we know of the Xeno the better we can kill it.

 

[booksv2]

"I have a few reasons not to attack you on sight, Kroot. Most of them boil down to you just not being worth the shell it would take to drop you. But the main reason is simply that you were hired here on this ship. I do not trust you, I do not like you, It wouldn't be too much to say I actually loathe you. But I signed on knowing that the Captain may hire those like yourself, and so long as your are under his employ and do not betray whatever trust he has given you, you will not find my weapons aimed at you."

Smoke turns his head so he is looking at the female sideways, his body still over the counter as he does. Soft clicks drifting through the air for a second before they stop, once they do Smoke sits up and makes a face as he slides from the short stool and sits on the floor between two of them. He now sits as high as the female, able to look her almost in the eye as she reads. Leaning forward slightly he looks at the book upside down and just looks, not understanding.

"Yes i am hired. If all hard things are open as you i would not worry about leaving ship. Though even here i worry, which is why my territory not as easy found as others."

Reaching up to his ear Smoke fiddles with his communicator for a few silent seconds before asking the female who so far doesn't seem to want to kill him.
"You know how to use?"

 

[Anti-American Eagle]

Volkov

"Greetings First Lieutenant." The astartes tightly shook Volkov's hand and he smiled as the Astartes spoke "As I stated to you fellow here, me and my companion, Skoll, wish to offer our services to you Captain; with the understanding that should I encounter any elements of my Brothers of my Great Company during the trip, we shall depart from his service immediately. Since Rouge Traders seem to place an emphasis on financial gain, I will also offer this as an incentive. I will renounce any claim on items of value, barring those that may assist me and my Brothers in our ongoing Hunt, such as arms and munitions befitting a Space Marine."

"I'm sure my lord will agree to that Sire. The Sons of the Emperor are a blessing out there and it would be an honor to have you with us." Volkov paused briefly as a message invaded his eardrum "There are a few forms the bureaucrats will want signed but they can wait for now. Will you and your companion require transportation to our depot?"

 

[Athol]

"I'm sure my lord will agree to that Sire. The Sons of the Emperor are a blessing out there and it would be an honor to have you with us...There are a few forms the bureaucrats will want signed but they can wait for now. Will you and your companion require transportation to our shuttle depot?"

"Of course there are." Maarku laughed. "The Administratum was to worm it's way to everything after all. As to transportation, I believe we will; It'll simplify matters; as I have some gear stored that will require retrieving." Looking up from Volkov, Maarku let out a short whistle, and a moment later, Skoll pushed her massive head through the doorway. With that, the pair tipped their heads back and howled.

Spoiler: OOC

When I use the brackets, he's speaking native Fenrisian (Like most 'native' languages, it's a much twisted version of Low Gothic, pretty much unintelligible to those that don't speak it.)

 

[Asclepion]

Olybrius

Olybrius had spent the last few days off the ship and in the undercities of Ferrus Continentia. The Hive World was a filthy and chaotic place, but all the more reason to be there - full of activity, full of demand for what he could provide, full of people who could be useful allies.

The Seneschal wore an over-the-shoulder wrapping of a very deep red, almost purple. His lithe body was adorned with gold and jeweled ornaments. He walked calmly, giving others ample way, and bowing to the vendors who sold him food on the crowded streets. He walked unchallenged by any criminal element seeking the bounty of an offworld merchant lord. Or at least, none of them had lived. Because though Olybrius seemed to be alone, he was not. His agents on this world, and those of his fellow merchants who wished to see their dealings come to fruition, surrounded him on all sides- trailing him in the crowd, eagerly awaiting the chance to turn pickpockets to ash with lasgun fire or shave off a section of their head with monofilament swords.

All went smoothly. A multitude of paths were made on the Hive World, and additional channels opened up around the sector. With a final clink of their wineglasses, he began the journey back. Already his Dataslate was filling with the crew's dossiers- Xeno and Astartes alike. He ignored them, trusting in his own ability to judge character, honed ever since he was a lad.

He throws coin to beggars along the way, and is met with "Blessings of the Emperor upon you!"

"And to you." He replies.

 

[mcpop9]

Staring at the man, she could pick out he was guard, or ex guard, probably the latter judging by the state of his appearance. "I appreciate it, but i'm good. I don't smoke." she said and looked forwards out of the crowd. "I know you current and ex guard rather hate the idea of a commissar being anywhere near you, off or on duty, but seeing that glass." she began, gesturing to the glass infront of him without looking back at him. "Is making me realize you're drinking shit that's better off being used to remove rust from the frontal plating on a russ than to go through your own systems." she said, finally turning back to the guardsman, pulling out a flask from under her hat before placing her hat back on her head.

"Drink this." she said, passing to him a small silver flask with the commissarial crest on the front of the thing. "That's good shit, recipe straight from ancient terra. Lord knows i'll need it over these next ten fucking years." she commented flatly, taking another swig from her other flask.

 

[Evrant-Knight]

Grimmfang

Up on the rooftops of a nearby cluster of buildings across from the recruitment centre, Grimmfang was quietly surveying the scene through his Scanna Gahgals, trying to gather as much intelligence regarding the mission of the Valiant Light and it's assorted crew. He had to admit, it was a little amusing that a Humie Krooza was willing to take non-Humie crew-members on board; perhaps that was a way he could get on board, then again, Humies don't take too kindly to there being Orks around their stuff.

As he continued to ponder, the radio that he'd been given by the Mekboys before he was sent off to scout started playing white noise again as someone started talking.

" Oi! Master Grimmfang. Dis da Kaptin 'ere. Status reporta! " Spoke the Kaptin as the white noise gave way to more Orky tones.

"Dem other scouty Boys was right Kaptin. Dis 'ere Humie Krooza big, looks like it have plenty space for lots of Boys. And it keep a lid on it Kaptin, don't want the Humies to know I'm 'ere." The radio was silent for a few moments before the Kaptin talked again. Whether the Kaptin was offended or the radio was playing up, Grimmfang wasn't sure.

"Anyway. You found out why da Humies are 'ere? Dere any gud loot?"

"No clue Kaptin. Allz I know, is dat dey be recruting. Got a load of deze 'ere buildingz scatta across da planet, and dere be Humies going about saying da this 'ere planet be dere final stop. Gonna try and find a way to be sneaky to get on board. Although, I had seen a Beekee 'Ard Boy earlier. Dey usually have gud loot."

"A Beekee Boy huh? Interesting. Rite get back to work Grimm. Tell us if you find more."

 

[DefunctTheory]

Gordon Kasteen - Downhive Bar and Strip Club

'Another day, another kind of weird,' Kasteen considers as he collects his lho-sticks. He looks to the bartender, only to find he has retreated from the commissar, apparently unwilling to risk the wraith of the possibly unstable, sword swinging maniac. His source of alcohol gone, Kasteen glances at the flask offered by the political officer. 'Drowning in choice, as per usual,' Kasteen says to himself as he grabs the offered flask. He briefly considers the fact that the whiskey could be poisoned, but quickly recalls exactly what is in his own glass. 'Can't possibly be worse then what I've been drinking all night.' And with that he takes a shot.

'Too smooth.'

"Thanks, but I think I'll stick with the rotgut," he says to the commissar, passing the flask back to her. Kasteen takes a drag on his lho-stick before continuing, "Its always been honest with me, from tongue to throat to gut and back again." His words are accompanied by great plumes of smoke. Kasteen grabs his glass, but he stops himself before taking another drink. 'Did she say something about ten years?'

'Shit.'

"So, in for a tough ten years. Got a soft regiment, I take it?" He says this fishing for her assignment, but Kasteen is already fairly certain he knows whats going on. Commissars don't get assignments with expiration dates, and they certainly wouldn't come to a shit hole like this if they had soldiers on planet, as it would doubtlessly be swarming with her charges.

But most of all, he knew because it just had to be so. Of course there'd be a commissar on the ship that would get him out of this Emperor forsaken place. Kasteen got back to his drink, knowing he'd need the contents of it coursing through is brain pretty soon.