[center][h2][b]Ilshar Ard’sabekh[/b][/h2][/center]


The approach to the dropship put Ilshar at ease. The sight of something so large under an optic cloak was always somewhat offputting, calling to mind an imitation of some Abyssal presence - something that was not supposed to be seen being forced into an approximation of a visible presence - but the smell of metal-melded biomass and, above all, the etheric breeze he could feel from it if he focused were soothing. All that living matter, fated to rot one day. After the hectic tides of danger of several battles, this mass of coagulated certainty was a refreshing sense of firmness, helping still his mind like a tree-stem it could latch onto. He unlatched his helmet and let it dangle from his fingers, air whistling through the grille of his exposed teeth. Great Spiral, whatever he might have done on this planet, it felt good to be finished. His hands interlinked in the sign of the twofold ring in a gesture of thanks.

Onboard the craft, the visible world reasserted itself, getting rid of the jarring sensory mismatch. Ironically, this left Ilshar’s thoughts free to wander to unpleasant places. What the Yrrkradians had been to Enthuur, he had been here. Was this some kind of jest of fate, a turn of the concentric folds in the Nexus’ bottomless gulch? More likely, it was simply on him. To distract himself, he shaped more eyes and tasting orifices as he walked, drinking in the pulse of melded life from all around and idly dwelling on the oddities that lined his passage. Now and again some trooper’s salvaged Dominion gear stung him like a sore spot in the eyes.

The new, or was it, handler the Envenomed came across was a welcome distraction for the time being. He was even ready to bear with it being a cyborg. If nothing else, it had some biomatter around its dead metal, though he suspected all of it was synthetic. That still put the Authority Node above the other newcomer that joined the squad in the debrief room. Not being able to feel [i]anything[/i] from that apparent human was ever so slightly disturbing. Even a mechanoid would have smelled of steel and plastic, but this “King”, nothing. Ilshar could’ve thought he was a hologram, but he was clearly solid. He leaned away from the eerie presence in the chair he had perched on, answering his jibe with a hostile growl of [b]“Looks like we’ve got a [i]laughing one[/i] here.”[/b]

Kleo’s delirious ramblings flew by without shaking him from the wary contemplation of King, but then Rasch voiced what had been looming grimly in the back of his mind.

[b]“It’s never about helping. Not in this business.”[/b] Ilshar’s finger traced the rust-coloured spiral pattern on the bared livid, rubbery membranous skin of his forearm. [b]“Whatever our employer’s after isn’t going to align with anyone else’s goal forever.”[/b]

He turned his eye-ringed mouth to the Authority Node.

[b]“But I still wouldn’t mind knowing what it is. What’s the Intransigence’s angle on Zanovia? It can’t just be messing with the League for the fun of it.”[/b] [i]Why did he do it?[/i] There better have been a good reason, for what little that was worth.