Roleplay (Roleplay Order: GolanArms, Myself, Razkiel)

*The thunderhawk's drone edged it closer and closer to the drifting space hulk, it's mighty engines pushing it through the void, it's hull was coloured in an almost beautiful limestone and bronze finish and it bore the heralds of the space marine chapter "Knights of Argent". The dropship was dwarfed by the monstrosity that was the space hulk, the 40 metre long vessel looked like a speck in comparison to the hulk's vastness. They found a landing bay nearby and the retro engines fired as the ship's artificial gravity system began to take hold. With an ominous 'thump' the landing claw came down apon the dull metal floor. For a few moments it seemed nothing would happen, but then there was a hiss and the front hatch slowly came down, the heavy bolter turrets came online, scouring the large hanger bay for any possibility of danger. Ten Space marines exited the dropship, each had a sword and bolt pistol, except for one who carried a power sword which hummed with crackling power. They too searched around, their auto senses scouring the area, then spoke "the area is clear" the sergeant said "air seems to be breathable, the techpriest may proceed".


*Shuffling from his harness in the Thunderhawk, Tech Priest Xanatos shuffled forwards on two metallic feet moving through the great ship and onto the deck of the space hulk, he scanned the area with his bionic implants for any signs of hostile activity. Seeing no immediate danger the priest turned to his imposing body guard, he spoke with an inhuman voice from the vox caster implanted into his throat 'If all is well sergeant it is advisable that we proceed with haste to the specified location'. From a hologram veiwer concealed in the flesh of his hand, he produced a rough holo-map of the space hulk they were on 'We are currently in the landing bay made from 'The Arrogance of Lords' Dominator class destroyer, our goal should be within this area here' The Tech Priest pointed to an area lower down from their current location, near the rear end of space hulk, and a distance away from their current position


*The only thing that marked his passage was a soft whisper of silence, velvet skin against silken flesh, a shadow against the midnight black. Against the slow and soft tempo of the Space Hulks heartbeat he stalked, his footsteps falling in time with the natural rhythm of the flow of life within the construct. It was alive, or so close as not to matter, its own little self-contained ecosystem and environment, climate and temperate. And just as any worth-while habitat, it had it's hunters, and it's prey.

It was a thin line dividing the two.

The ship was alive enough, with Tyranids. Hunted across several star systems, the Genestealer cult had led him here. 'Here' being the temporary hive of a small advance force. He was still shivering with the pleasure of the hunt. It had been glorious. They had provided such wondrous entertainment. And such strength. He could already feel it circulating within him, making him stronger, faster, sharper...

Vikorik, as was his name, stood an easy two and a half, three meters (depending on his stance), and while he lacked the bulk of a Space Marine, he could certainly meet the eye of one. His body was a coil of tense and compact, whip-like musculature, his lithe and elegant form lacking any semblance of fragility or weakness. Covering him like a close-fitting glove was a solid and smooth carapace-like armour, crafted of what appeared to be a dark grey bone. It flowed across him with a streamlined elegance that spoke of exceptional craftsmanship, the interlocking plates providing complete protection without sacrificing mobility, agility or guile. Exceptional, and practically cruel craftsmanship. Edges tapered into thin blades, fingers into claws, and corners to spines. The faceplate was of a single and flowing, smooth construct, as with the rest of the armour, and adorned with a number of lenses scattered about seemingly at random, cruel edges giving it a leering impression.

Ducking low, he crouched into an alcove, grateful for the Gothic architecture and jutting bulkhead supports, his head-quills twitching irritably. He had company.


*The one with the power sword spoke through his helmet mounted vox "thunderhawk, make your way back to the Escallibur and when you're in Vox range, order the ship to make a count of sixty minutes then open fire" he ordered, it was obvious he was not taking any risks. He then turned to a particular space marine, the scroll on his armour named him Sword Brother Uther "Sword brother, you have told me that you have wished to know what it is like to command, you have that chance" he said "You will take five of your brothers and you will escourt the techpriest, I will act as a rear guard and keep in touch with the Battle Barge". Uther was so thankfull for this priveledge to prove himself, but he knew to keep his emotions in check, he gave a single bow "I thank you for this, I shall not fail you" he said "brothers with me" he ordered "okay techpriest where to now?" he asked the robed, metalic figure.


*'It would depend on your circumstances, the quickist route would be through the maintenance bridge and via the cargo lift to the lower end of the hulk, but such large halways may harvest some of the more, unsightly elements of the space hall, and may attract unwanted attention' He pointed a bone metallic finger to a small green seam down the side of the holo-map 'But, recent shifts in the hulk have prised open a small outward path to our same goal, it will be trouble to navigate and take longer the then maintenance route, but our chances of detection will be decreased by an estimate of 27.12% at the cost of 17.32% increase in retrival time of the target, your choice of route Sergeant' His vox caster made an audible click at the end of each sentence, the vox caster switching on and off with each activation


*His cursing flowed fluently from one language to another, cycling through seventy-two seperate dialects before finally he resorted to his own. The nice thing about a good helmet, was that anything said within it, stayed within it. He could feel it already, the dull ebb and throb as the aliens became aware of these newcomers, and reacted as a body would to an infection. Flooding ahead of the others in a manic rush, the Gauntii Gladius sought to clog the wound. Dotted amongst them were larger, deadlier variations. Corporaptor Hominis, Tyranicus Ophidius Subterra, and Gauntii Avius flowed with their brethren, the sudden switch from a typical Gaunt to a Genestealer, Ravener, or Gargoyle could be fatal, requiring different tactics entirely.

Pulling the rifle he was carrying from his back, he checked the ammo crystal. Pillaged and modified Eldar weaponry, the twisted weapon had served him well, the toxin-impregnated crystal shards silent and awesome in their ability to drop Tyranids on a single shot. The sleek and maliciously sharp dark metal cast no reflection in the dull reddish emergency lighting, the service tunnels spanning the maintenance routes lacking anything brighter. He had enough crystal left to fight his way back and forth through the Hulk many times over, and with the distraction provided by the Mon-keigh... he was confident he'd make it. Dropping down into a recently opened path that coincided with the maintenance routes, longer than the intentionally built tunnels, but more isolated and as a result seeing less traffic from the ships self-appointed guardians.


*The brother nodded in the priest's direction "okay, I would rather take the less dangerous route and be in and out without a fight than going through the quick route and be fighting through xeno fiflth" he said "Brother Roland, go ahead, Brother Renalt take the rear" and the space marines followed his words. Uther stayed closest to the techpriest, he was on a mission and he would rather die first than to return in shame to his sergeant. He checked his bolt pistol, like he did many times before, it was clean and ready to use, he just prefered the comfort of routine than anything. They soon lost visual contact with the other marines as they went deeper and deeper into the bowls of the ship, to search out the small piece of whatever that the techpriests valued so much.


*The tech priest felt the vibrations through the ship, it was a good sensation, the feel of age old technology resonating through his metallic body and the reasuring sight of imperial plas-steel lining the walls. But, there was something else, it was faint, even to the bionicly enhanced senses of his body but it was there, the pitter patter of clawed feet vibrated through the floors of the ship, the chemical composition in the air included faint traces of spore. Unease was an abtract concept to the tech priest, he had long ago emerged from the cocoon of weak flesh and into pure machine, but he still felt the unease in the air, it was palpable. 'Turn right at this next passage'


*What if they had landed in his bay? the thought struck him like a lightning bolt. No... he'd be fine. His vessel was of Eldar craftsmanship, like most of his gear, it was hidden within the bay, and would defy sensors in its dormant state... no. There was nothing to worry about. Turning left he carried on towards the loading bay, suddenly aware of several things at once.

The hive was reacting to a presence just down the tunnel, not far from him at all. The advance force was almost onto them. He had just stumbled into the advance force.

Whispering death tore into the Tyranids, his rifle firing a storm of toxic crystal splinters into the writhing mass of claw and scything talon before him. The creatures, previously quiet and laying it wait as to ambush, screamed out from this unexpected attack, turning and lashing out to him. His rifle still firing, almost of its own malicious will, he dropped back slightly, weaving side to side. His natural agility, the grey armour against the metal backdrop, the lack of noise to guide the Tyranids, tracking him proved difficult. Flesh borer beetles skittered past him, devourer worms whistling through the air. The Gaunts and Genestealers surged forwards ahead of their brothers, acidic saliva and diamond-hard claws rending the deck around them in a sea of violent and painful death. With a final shriek of crystal, the last flyer dropped, bubbling as the toxins streaming through its system dissolved it from the inside out. In one swift, smooth motion, Vikorik returned the rifle to its place on his back, and drew two long, slender knives, shining wickedly in the dull red light. Weaving them in front of him, he began a deadly dance with the monsters, in which the better dancer would gain the privilege of life.


*The commotion did not go unnoticed, the sounds of the struggle could be heard throughout the ship, Uther raised his hand to stop the movement "something is wrong" he said. He then put a hand to his helmet "Brother Sergeant, we've heard something in the ship I do not know how safe this mission is" he said, he waited before he recieved a reply "we heard something too, it sounded like weapons fire, but nothing imperial, I suspect xen...Brother Borean, what do you see?...xenos spotted, open fire..." bolter fire could be heard over the vox "what is it it? brother sergeant respond!" Uther got worried, but there was no response, just static. "Emperor, what is this place?" he asked "techpriest, we're heading back to the hanger, I do not like this place, marines we turn back to aid our brothers" he ordered.


*'But the fragment, we must retrive-' A Genestealer burst through the roof of his position diamond hard claws just slicing through his hood. The strike would have taken his head off had he not ducked out the way 'Incoming' he said in a monotone voice, it was hard for him to express emotion through his voice. With his spare hand he reached for his issued bolt pistol


*Driven by the thrill of the hunt and bloodlust still surging through him, Vikorik sheared forwards through the flood until finally he'd arrived at the source of the commotion. The Genestealer landed with a thud, crouching low and sweeping a claw upwards towards the hooded figure. His blood still thrumming with the hunt, he lunged forwards instinctively. The right knife shot forwards, the blade in a reverse-grip, catching inside the lower arm of the creature and sliding cleanly out the other side, halting the swing and caught in Vikorik's grip. Pouncing on the creature, using his body weight to drive its right shoulder down, the second knife lashed out and severed the head, bouncing away softly and spluttering the deck with droplets of vile blood.

Suddenly aware of what he had just done, he lunged backwards and opened a gap between him and the techpreist. Crouched, low and weary, he hovered on the edge of flight. Chances were, if they wanted to gun him down then they would be able to do so before he had a chance to flee, so he saw nothing to lose by standing his ground. But his defence of the priest would have thrown them slightly, if he was lucky, and he sought to seize the advantage and throw them further. Any advantage he gained would better his chances of survival.

“It is dangerous to be here Mon-keigh, it would be a good time to leave.” he croaked, his voice strong and reverberating, with a slight sharpness to it. Despite his gearing, he was obviously not one of the Eldar, his strong physique and swift, brutal movement betraying his slender grace.


*Uther saw the xeno, right infront of him, in a flash he could gun the xeno down, and he saw that one of his brothers tried to raise a boltgun to do so. "Hault" he said, his words only shared amongst those wearing a space marine helmet "this xeno may be usefull to us for now" he said "external address: We are wary in taking advice from a xeno, you are a kroot a xeno of little honour, having little loyalty than whoever provides you with the highest payment" his voice was ominous, and sounded a little metalic. "For what reason do we have that you will go by your word?" he asked "Our mission is not done, how can I trust that you are not here for the same reason and trying to turn us away from our mission?" he asked.


*'We cannot leave yet, our target must be retrived before we can leave here, I am under strict orders to' Even with enhanced dark vision he could not clearly make out the xenos, due to the armor he was wearing. Lithe black plate that seemed to deflect his attempted to probe with sonar, yet seemed to be quite resistance, in strapped to his side was a another piece of Xenos weaponry, it seemed to be of dark eldar origins, but it was of a design unseen by him before, it was darker, sharper, compared to the brightly coloured and smooth guns of the Eldar. He logged a mental note into his memory to retrieve his body at the possibility of death.


*Mon-keigh scum... through his eyes, the scanners and targeting optics ran swift calculations. He'd not be able to eliminate them all, even if he wanted to. They'd not be bargained with... and they would sooner open fire than let him wander unhindered. And if they were here, there would be more. Most likely at the landing bay. Di'kut... with a snarl, he reopened his external comm unit. “At the moment venerable master, you are the highest bidder.” he croaked once more, sheathing the knives and standing a little straighter. Perhaps if he was careful, he could get out of here better of than he had intended. His helmeted head turned slightly, as though trying to listen to what was behind them, before reluctantly returning to address the techpriest.

“They know you're here,” his voice was cautious, as though reluctant, “but they are unsure of where. They track you by your movements, by the sound of your weapons. But I could guide you.”


*Uther was not sure where to go or what to do, he could return to the hanger and return his brothers safe, or continue the mission, and he did not know if he should trust this xeno. "Sword Brother, we should kill him, he is not to be trusted" Uther heard over the private chatter, but Uther knew the truth "fine, xeno beast, take us to what this techpriest is looking for and return us to the hanger' he ordered "but betray us and your only reward will be to feel the teeth of my chainsword". The space marine could hear the sounds of something moving, it seemed the entire ship had come alive "we need to move quickly, the longer we lingure the easier prey we become".


*'If we have come to an agreement, we should make haste, the sooner the target has been required the sooner we can retire from the mission', He brought up the holo map again for the Xenos 'I was heading through this passage here' he highlighted the recently opened route with green, while the goals supposed location was coloured red 'But if you know a faster way to the objective I would appreciate your input...What may I refer to you as?'