BigPapaBelial

Tactical Breach Wizards: Fireteam Hex (Military, Modern, Fantasy, Action-Thriller) INTEREST CHECK

Really?

Well despite my often spotty schedule I would like to put my foot forward. If you'll have me again.

Raven Squad: Second Storm (Military/Spy-Fi RP) (COMPLETED)

Earlier...

Ban slowly stood up from where he and Thalia had taken down the platoons moving up the hill. HE grits his teeth and thumps his torso just above his wound. Wincing, "Ah...balls...Ancestors...i'm getting..."

He spun the rifle slung at his hip, his hand going for his sword, his usual go too. In the distance an explosion, a few of them actually. And then what looks like a rocket sailing into the air. He follows it, "Thalia! It's coming this way!" The pair track it, and as it comes crashing down they both run over to it. In time for the safety shield to burst off. Thalia gets to the rotund woman first knocking her over.

Laura...

She manages to get free but is still when a long blade settles on her shoulder, the edge of the Naginata he quickly put together rests on her shoulder, the edge kissing her neck lightly, "Laura-san, I suggest you stay put." He circles around in front of her, his hands holding the haft of the polearm expertly, "I think we and the rest of Raven have something to talk about with you, if you would be so kind?" Laura looked at Tahlia then Ban then down at the haft of the polearm, it's blade kissing her neck.

Ban's eyes narrow, his hand shifting just abit, a small red nick, not deep, but draws blood.

She gulps and nods, "Good...I know you're friends with Frigga-Hakase, and she would not want to see you dead. Without an explanation." He gently lifts her by sheer presense of the blade at her neck, "Walk please...and we will talk later."

The journey to reach the others began.

---

Before the Ride

Freya was stripping out of her armor, with the help of Jamie and Chuck, a little anyway when it came to Chuck, the man got impaled. He needs a break, but she's not going to say no to her boyfriend wanting to strip her.

She's stepping free of her suit, and setting a few hold out weapons to her body glove when Ban and Thalia come in.

She stops and watches. Why? Because Ban has his Naginata jsut short of Laura's spine. Freya narrows his eyes, then walks over, grabbing Laura by the throat in one big hand, the strain of Freya's muscles as she half lifts Laura off the ground with one arm is spectacular. She glares at the rotund woman, "I ought to tie you up, gag you, blind you and leave you out here...but I think you'd like that." She sighs, "Laura...we have alot to talk about...no don't..." She can see when Laura starts to try and talk, "My boyfriend got hurt, I'm going to space...with my friends and family. You stay here. Sit...stay..." She turns to go and help the others.

Jamie stepping up, "Good girl." He growls, "I'll watch her sis."

---

Vulpine Space Command Centre, Île de la Tempête, Reunion

Suited and Booted

0800 Hours

Freya Kantaario and

Athena Kantaario

"Sis, this is fucking insane, I mean...this must be something you were dreaming of, right? Always dreamed of being an astronaut when you were little, and I guess you got it?" Athena chuckled, asking her, the golden retriever not entirely leaving her, as she looked her up and down, smile still etched on.

"We got this. Battering fucking ram. Save the world. Get home. Then we gotta talk about finding JamJam someone to love too, right?" Athena kept it light, in spite of just how insane the stakes were, beyond the two mechs on fire still in the launch pad opposite their rocket, and the absolute carnage that looked like an army had run through here, instead of just a dozen highly trained black-ops, special forces degenerates.

Before anything Freya had spent a second or two checking Chuck over, to say she’d been mothering is an understatement. She’d kissed him, held him, hugged him, kissed him again, and if it weren’t for the team being right there Athena and Jamie think she would have given him something to remember her by but alas too many eyes.

Now she stuffs into the shuttle, sitting beside Athena. She grins, “Honestly sis, I always dreamed about space. My technology has always been geared to get humanity off Earth. To the Moon, to Mars, Titan maybe as far as Pluto and then maybe not in my lifetime but maybe our kids, beyond. Interstellar made right. No worm holes but Jump Tech.” She sighs belting in, “I know it sounds insane, but yeah…here we are.” She almost sounds giddy!

Taking a deep breath she kisses her middle and index finger and presses it to the shuttle wall, one last gesture to Chuck and the others staying behind.

“This is where we do it right. We finish this off. Then we come back and we do our best to make sure it doesn’t happen again anytime soon.” She smiles, looking at Athena and the others coming along. Solid team, solid foundation.

Athena grinned, always envious of her sister’s endless nerdery and well, ambition. That she had, the thought making her light headed, as light headed as someone slightly taller than her already Norse goddess like stature could be, Athena chuckling in Freya’ thought. The others waved, as the truck pulled away, Athena locked in conversation after the little ‘debate’ with Ebrima and Skye.

“You’re crazy, Freya. Endless creativity in you. But I guess this is your first step. Even if it….well, involves keeping the rest of humanity alive, I guess.” Athena commented, exhaling deeply, looking out as they pulled out of the hangar, the sight of the rocket in the distance.
“With Chuck, I’m glad he’s in one piece. Dude is gnarly as hell. Still wanted to defend. I’m glad Tahlia told him to quit it.” She added, resting her metallic, armoured paw against Freya’s, the two sisters at the end of the world looking on at each other.
“Gotta say, you’ll make a hell of a couple. Proud of ya.” Athena beamed, glancing a look as incognito as someone of her size could at Eloise, virtually hidden behind Skye on the other end of the truck, so small was her size.
“Hey, mind if I ask you….I think she might have an eye on me. I mean….damn, that was not where I expected my hearts to pull me but…..I guess…..” Athena mumbled, almost as if she was surprised at her own self, given all her positioning in life, her appeal, everything, that some small gesture, the little looks of awe, it almost came back.

Freya looks back at her sister and reached up to take her hand in hers. She smiled, “I wholly admit I’m not one hundred percent sane. But then that’s half the fun.” She giggles a little.

Then follows Athena’s gaze over to Eloise, “Ask me what exactly hmmm? Her?” She hums, “JamJam and I are going to have to give her the once over, just like Dad, Mom and Jamie did for Chuck. You know that, it’s how we do things in this family. Same thing happened to mom and dad, same thing happened to me, gonna happen to you and Jamie too. That’s if we can find someone who can handle JamJam anyway.” She hums.

Then turns to Athena, “In all seriousness Thena, if you feel like it might work. Try it out. I…kinda maybe jumped Chuck in the plane…and it somehow worked out. Honestly I didn’t think anyone would want such a big woman like me. We’re abnormalities in the gene pool. Even a big guy I dodn’t think would ever want to take a shot on me. But if you have found someone who looks like they want to take a chance, and it makes you feel good. Go ahead, I’ll be your wingwoman any day of the week and five times that on weekends.” She leans over and gives her sister a kiss on the forehead, “Get me sis?” She smiles, “I’m going to have so much fun ribbing you about it though.”

Athena giggled, shaking her head, leaning up against Freya.
“Wouldn’t want a big woman such as you…..oh Freya, you really sell yourself short. Embrace that power, and all men shall submit, haha! Though….you picked well, sis.” The younger sibling grinned, looking to the rocket, just still taking this all in, before looking back to Freya, sighing with a certain feeling of all of it.
“I mean, who knows. Let’s see. My hearts do flutter plenty. So who knows….but hey. What a time to have feelings at the end of the world….and well, I guess I got Mom to deal with when we come home to explain it all to.” Athena added, feeling the truck stop for a moment, before starting again, continuing the last little stint to the lift, grinning at Freya, before settling down, all of it getting a bit real.

She’d been thinking about this a while, the usually bubbly Athena, who’d gone through being nearly set on fire or blown apart with Freya in the last few weeks, now really setting into this.

“When you went to Raven, why did you go in the first place? I mean, all these mercs, they have….well, you know, Skye said it herself, she picks a hell of a range of operators, some of whom are running from something. You had everything made yourself, you’ve done so much. Why this, Freya? I mean, I’m proud as hell, and glad to be joining you…..but before you went away, to that thing you couldn’t tell me about, I never did get to know. Why did you sign up for it?” Athena asked, perhaps a little inquisitively, knowing that there was no doubt, a little behind that. From her own chats with Ebrima, who certainly looked on her with disdain, to Eloise, the street urchin who’d survived poverty and came out of the other end an assassin, Chuck, betrayed by his own unit, and Sam, betrayed by elements within the CIA itself. And Skye, who was now proving to be something of a black sheep herself. It was perhaps that question that Skye said to Athena, she wanted the Kaantario to be the target, go loud, while they did the lifting. What did she mean by that?

Freya hums. And looks out, “I…just…” She trails off.

Then picks back up, “I needed a change of scenery first off. It was almost assured that I’d join Blue Sword. Even as I worked to help push Humanity to our next frontiers. Deep Sea and Deep Space you know? And the trip to…well that.” She sighs, “I never did tell you what that was did I?” She looks closely at Athena, “It was a Think Tank sis. All the big Alphabet organizations got the greatest and brightest minds together to work on projects that would push science to the next level. My rail technology started there. So did my energy conversion and shield tech. All those electro magnetic and pulse engines that have been popping up? Thought up there. There were maybe 50 of us. In a bunker, I can’t even remember where now. And we spent everyday dreaming up new and wonderful ideas. It was a paradise. But then the Alphabet organizations pulled out. We were let loose.”

She chuckles, “And I joined Raven because I needed to feel like a badass again. Becoming a James Bond Villain level scientist was one thing. But I needed to destroy things again. And with Jotunheim ready to go. Well, I got it. Raven was a way to feel like the daughter of the Kaanatarios again. And what a trip to this point.” She smiles, “I’m glad we can all do this again. Us and Jamie, and everyone. Thalia, Ban, Sam. Everyone. Even if this could be the end of the world. I’m glad we’re here now. It feels like family.”

Athena smiled, thinking about that comment. Family. It was something she knew too well, even if her own self sometimes.
“Feels like it. Made me feel like I’m at home too. Even though I know some people don’t uhhh….well, let’s just say I’m a bit too much. Maybe a good chance to reevaluate what matters.” Athena chuckled, looking up at the massive rocket, as they closed in on it.

“I just don’t know how you do it. Putting yourself in harm’s way when you have it all. But then again, I’m not one to talk….” Athena kept on rambling, as she looked over at Freya, reflecting on it all. “I guess you just wanted to see what your tech could do in person. That’s some serious villain shit, being real. I guess I just like being a hands on boss. Lead by example. Be the leader you want to say, ain’t that some shit I learned in an MBA. And well, I mean, body like this, wasted behind a desk? Pfft, then I’d prove Ebrima right.” The youngest sibling giggled in her ramble, feeling the truck crawl slowly to a halt.

“I guess I always wondered when you were into this. You made family of people who didn’t have them. And acted as a big sister to them too. I might not be officially part of this, but….you’ve got some compassion deep in there. More than just destroying everything. When we get back, enjoy that. Whatever Skye says, sis, go be that nerdy girl and make sure you make that change you want to make. Leave me to destroy a little.” She licked her lips, Athena grinning, before breaking into laughter, knowing she was teasing with that, the truck coming to a half on that.

Moving to the rear hatch, and peeling it open, Athena lumped into the floor, turning and casually peeling Skye down as Freya dropped on her own, putting Skye to floor, given the difficulty of moving in the bulky, clunky EVA suit on Earth-bound gravity.

“You two philosophising again?” Skye commented, looking up to Freya, nodding.

“Eh, same shit, different day.” Athena replied, helping the others get out and ready, with the short walk towards the lift, Skye turning to Freya before she walked over.

“Never got to say, thank you by the way for sorting out the mechs. And dealing with all of what you had to, with Laura. Thank you. It’s hard to deal with betrayal, but you did what you had to when it mattered. And I appreciate it wasn’t easy.” Skye added, clumsily moving, resting her suited hand against Freya’s metal one.

“Well, I suppose this got a lot more complicated. Thank fuck you’re a physicist, don’t go down the rabbit hole of consciousness transfer and biotech, honestly….what a fucking pain. I’m still there, but I don’t even want to think about the rabbit hole of how that worked. Or anything else to do with it. For now, fuck it. Ready for this?” Skye casually understated, knowing full well, that was a question to be answered- perhaps, when they’d finished saving the world.

Freya turns to look at Skye, “Ready for this? Going to have to be.” She smiled and reaches over to give her sister a pat on the shoulder. Then over and…well hugs Skye as best she can, “No matter what, even after everything I think I’m siding with Ban here. That boy worships the ground you walk on. I atleast am in it to win it here and I’ll do it at your side.” She smiles letting Skye go. A huge grin on the big womans face, “I expect you to be one of my brides maids if not my maid of honor at my wedding missy.”

She wiggles then, causing herself to jiggle in all the right places, “Oh wow I can’t believe I actually said that.” She bounces, “But first let’s save the world right?” She nods, “That’s important, then…if Chuck doesn’t pop the question in a few months, I’m going to. Gonna claim that man.” She grins broadly at that. Fire in her eyes.

---

Jamie watched the truck pull away, standing there with the rest of the team. He narrowed his eyes. He didn't like it. True the Kanatario kids worked alone regularly. But he'd promised their parents ages ago he'd keep on eye out for his sisters. And here they go, unarmored, but armed and he can't go with them. To much there already. He edged his way over to Chuck, just as Ban stepped over too. Ban holding his side in pain, "You get pinked Samurai?" He asked. Ban just wincing. Jamie knelt down to check on Chuck, "Doing okay Brother in law?" He smiled, and briefly turned to look back at Laura. The rotund woman still secure. Ban did the same, "She will be fine. For now. I would like to think she knows better right now."

Jamie narrows his eyes, "We can but hope."

The three look the way the truck has gone.

Ban shifted and sat down carefully, kneeling in seiza, slowing his breathing, relaxing through the pain, sensing, waiting, regathering. He whispers to Chuck, "They will come back my friend. Your lady will be fine." An answer to an unvoiced concern.

---

Going where Angels Tread

Freya leaned into the seat, panting, the lift off had been something else. And as lesser gravity hit them, she almost started crying, tears welling in her eyes, "I made it...finally...I made it..." She presses a hand to the small window right by her seat, "Space...finally...I knew someday I'd make it...step one...step two Luna...Step three Mars...Four Venus...Five Titan...then beyond." She grins, "It's possible."

And then contact.

She grabbed her AEW, switching it to lower power anti-personnel. HEr armored body glove absorbing a few shots already. She growled, "Valkyrie, just like the Kill house."

A merc fired a gun at them cackling, saying something about God is great...in Chechen. When there's a whistle. And a clunk, no she couldn't bring Starbreaker, too unwieldly in light gravity. But her tomahawks? Hehe she brought both. So the first one slams into the Chechen's forehead splitting his head almost in two. Frigga snarls, "Hey bitch! We've all got business to finish with you! You hear me Rose!" She came charging around her cover, holding her AEW in one hand, sizzling shots racking the Mercs ahead of her. The big tomahawk in her other hand. Five enemy mercs looking on as she swarms towards them, moving far too fast for someone so big! It's a warcry of anger, and the words of, "For my man!" The tomahawk cleaving the air as it came around in a mighty arc. Like a deadly diamond edge. Cleaving, crushing.

Raven Squad: Second Storm (Military/Spy-Fi RP) (COMPLETED)

Giants Walk, Titans Swagger

Freya made her way up the hill, and watched in horror as the two mechs came into view, "Oh you have got too..." The first gout of flame from the one thicc mech instantly told her who it was. She then ducked as a huge steel pole came sailing past, fired from the pile driver on the Zulu mech. She looked between the two mechs in horror, and finally spoke as she ran forward to catch up with the rest of the team, "Well I think I traded up nicely." She called, dodging a gout of flame from the Thicc Mech.

She runs up to join the others, forming a line against the Mechs.

Jamie peels off running to the left, firing clouds of .50 rounds at the Zulu Mech, "Over here! Come on concentrate on me!" he hollers through his PA system. Sliding on some gravel he braces himself, calling into their shared radio so everyone can hear what he's doing, "Suit, Anti-tank Salvo, short fuse!" his right shoulder. And he again vanished in a cloud of smoke and fire, six rockets hissing from his shoulder pod. Two finding their mark and battering the Zulu Mech. But somehow, the big thing turns, and gets it's huge shield, oval and thick into the way of the other four. The big 12.7mm cannon installed in the shield returning fire on Jamie. He growled and charged off, dodging fire, "I got his attention for now! Could use some help though! Yo that hurts!"

Freya surveyed the field and then looks at Laura's mech, "I might be able to reason with Laura. But we have to get rid of her fixation. That's one of her main problems. Is she gets caught up in other peoples dreams sometimes. She did that with me for a few years. She'd show up at Jotunheim to try and help with experiments. Or distract me from work thinking I needed a break." She turned around her cover and lanced off a burst of blue-white energy at the Zulu Mech, "So we have two...crap!" She dived as the Thicc Mech turned and brought both the left and right hand jet flamers onto her position. The heat of it already heating her cover, red hot.

---

Elsewhere Shimura lay in a ditch, breathing slowly. It'd been quite in their area for a little bit. He'd been trying to fight past the pain from the gunshot he'd taken under the armor. He winces and takes a deep breath. With a grunt he thumps just above the packed wound, "Damn...that smarts." He's about to say more when Tahlia reaches over and sets a hand on his pauldron. He goes quiet and rolls to the side, getting behind a stump and peeking around it.

He nods as he sees what she did.

A oversized platoon of enemy. jogging up the hill, likely drawn to the fighting above. He looks to her and their eyes meet. He nods.

His long rifle is drawn from his shoulder and he skitters to the side, putting a little distance between them so it's not easily apparent that they are in the same position.

He whispers so she can hear him, "Duck hunting style. Start from the rear. Make your way forward. One kill, one bullet. Make it count." He sniffs and then sets his cheek to the rifle butt of the ancient looking weapon. But the new cutting edge system within what looks like a long flintlock rifle. Or maybe a wheelock. Something that many wouldn't consider is a problem.

The first shot, Tahlia and he, fire as one. The soldiers coming towards them can't tell if it's one shooter or two for that first shot, but they move before they comprehend what happened. Two of their number down from kill shots. The next two shots, one from both of them, allow the enemy to know their direction but again not their number. And as they begin to move, and return fire sporadically, Tahlia and he begin to ripple their fire. She fires, he fires. Working their way from the rear of the group to the front.

Return fire begins to crack and hiss over his head. Shimura keeps firing, "They're beginning to move...and stack up..."

Tahlia's next shot hits three of the number down the hill, an amazing through and through. And Shimura's next shot takes two at the chest.

Ban smiles, the enemy creeping forward even as their number slowly decreases.

It's a good hunt.

---

Jamie grits his teeth and slides into cover, a concrete berm between him at the Zulu mech, "Sis? Frigga?" Frigga growls, "The Thicc mech has me pinned! I'm not going anywhere, that heat would burn out my shields in seconds."

Jamie grits his teeth, "Where are mom and dad when we need them? Is your rail cannon ready to fire again? Maybe if we give them a salvo that will give us an opening." Frigga looks back towards the mothership, "Four minutes...almost an eternity...but if we can hold out? It should help. So?"

Raven Squad: Second Storm (Military/Spy-Fi RP) (COMPLETED)

A BigPapaBelial and KingKonrad collab

And the Giants shall return to the Earth, and they will Walk, and the ground shall Shake

As the two Wildcat helicopters banked, they steered over the chaos behind them, dumping chaff to avoid missiles from mainly the mech, and any other fire, moving fast and dumping a ton of speed on the far side of the launch pad, flying past the Adrianne on the pad itself and the half-bunker, half headquarters of Vulpine Space, as well as their operational center that had been co-opted by Artemis. The choppers were going straight for the rocket store, a gigantic, almost 20 story tall building where rockets were housed prior to launch and now something else entirely had been.

When the call came, there was hardly a surprise. Rushing to get here had been a problem, but for prize mercenaries, Artemis paid. And pay they did with something else Ingwe had gotten in the contract. A plus one for an off-planet escape, to return after the world ended…..

Inside one of the choppers, Laura looked back at the chaos they’d been dropped into, dressed in a tight black pilot’s suit that formed the inner layer of her traditional THICC suit, revealing her hefty breasts and her Athena-rivalling rump. Laura was fat, unashamedly so, maybe more so than ever before even outside of her THICC suit. She was not aiming to be a model, she was aiming to be effective given the muscle behind it that those pesky Kaantario siblings managed to manage better than her and well, schnitzel, wurst and strudel with a lot of money had an effect on her. Not that it turned Ingwe off her, her new partner doing things to her that weren’t even legal in most countries. From her laced up boots to her thighs wrapped tight in the glove-like embrace of the suit that looked like they could crush a VW Beetle, along her trunk-like arms all the way to her neck on which an almost comically small head sat, there was something of a dominatrix about her, given away by her hazel-coloured hair in a braid and her sharp pink acetylene burn on her face.

And well, rolling with Ingwe, it had been so easy to fall for him. She was addicted to him. Completely. When she laid eyes on him in that bar, hurt after Freya had pulled a number in him in Patagonia, Laura changed. Gone was any mission of her own. It was an instant connection, and well, he got lost in her too. Thoughts of Freya disappeared, because he was the only man in the world that made her feel like she was tiny. Of course, she was there to kill him at first, an easy job but…..of course, the B-Movie plot played itself when a pyromaniac German cast out from Raven’s main team started getting feelings for the African merc that treated her like the empress she thought she was.

Freya was the only other that did that to her, and while nearly getting killed by her had brought back memories, maybe even almost regret...but well, Ingwe...Ingwe did something else. It might have felt like nearly getting killed, given he was pretty badly hurt by almost all of the Kaantario siblings now, but he still had his charm. And he dealt with her unhinged nature. A toxic match for two very unstable, powerful people.

Stepping out off the side of the chopper, the Artemis mercs secured the area, and moved to open the doors of the gigantic warehouse, Laura positively dripping with a certain feel. This was not something typical- it was a final line of defense, something she hoped to play with at some point, but sooner had finally arrived.

Looking to Ingwe, Laura wrapped up close against him, tangling herself close to his chest, rubbing hers against his.
“This wasn’t how I expected to show you the treat that Rose promised. But it comes to this...the men have bought us time and Zhao trusts us to squish them. Glad that my ex didn’t go for the head on that geoengineering rig, so I could show you this myself, and her too. Maybe a treat before this little Garden of Eden we can come back to after we clear our path out, mein Schatz?” Laura pushed herself against him, rubbing his hand a little against her own rear.
“She promised us a little power before we left. But I feel we should go show some now. We are better than them. Are you ready?” Laura excitedly spoke, crazy with love, and generally, the feeling of burning shit down.

Ingwe played with the blade of his huge Iklwa spear, tucked to his chest. He had a limp, after that beating down in the South. His face was carved and cratered. It had been quite a beatdown. He should have died. If not for Artemis coming in, finding him on the brink and bringing him back. He’d been looking out into the field as they came in and had seen some of the enemy fighters. But it hadn’t been the time. They healed him, rebuilt his body where Raven had hit him hard.

Now here he is with Laura. Oh a lot of the Heavies in the world know of Laura. She’s almost as famous as Athena, Freya and their mother Natalie. Standing side by side with other infamous mercs like Antoine and Svetlana.

But Laura is something else. She had a way with words, and action. Even as she presses herself to his side. Ingwe responds, woodenly. He can sense that passion, but there is something else. He takes a breath and lets it hiss between his teeth. He turns to her, “Zhao and that Succubus and Artemis promised me a land of my own, to rebuild Africa after the world dies.” He hisses angrily, “But before then…I want them to burn. I want her to burn! Freya…Frigga.” He starts to shake with rage and anger, “I’ll watch her writhe in pain at my feet before the time to retreat and wait in safety comes.” He looks at her, “You were close with her weren’t you? Are you tainted by that snake woman’s charms too?” He grabs Laura by the cheek, and for a second he almost smacks her, but instead he steals a kiss, “Perhaps after all is done, we will have to see if we can’t wash that taint from you.” He lets her go then, “Yes we should go show them.” He steps forward, and the lights in the warehouse boomed on, revealing two large shapes within. He stretched his arms forth, “With these.”

Mechs…

And with it, into light came two twenty-five foot tall silhouettes that dominated the room.

His and hers.

And made to the way that Laura demanded it, and Ingwe too. Laura had forgotten just how deep the pockets of some people were, and when you wanted to be the elite, the top dog in the mercenary world, you paid eye-watering sums. There weren’t others like Laura and Ingwe, after all, the number of giants over seven foot that weren’t crippled were probably under two dozen. With no squad, no elite unit, not much but sheer bombast and power. And more than anything, they didn’t want money from Artemis, they would provide security for free, so long as they got that world. Ingwe had invited Laura into that world, it was why she was on that rig as the final protection point, and if she’d have gotten through her ex, her team wouldn’t have stood a chance. And she could think of nothing more hot than that. Ripping and tearing away, Laura’s boots clattering on concrete as her thighs shook like pistons and the suit squeaking as she moved due to just how tight and likely, how much she’d been treating herself and Ingwe while he was recovering.

The lights flickered on across the side of the warehouse, no rocket here, but something with even more power as Laura looked to him, loving it when he got feisty with her.

“Oh, you’ll get all the taint out of me, and so much more….relax, big boy. I’ll squish her like she’s never been squished. And Skye Lyons….oh, I’ll save her for you. I like it when you get angry. You’re so hot when you are.” Laura stuck out her tongue, cackling with laughter, watching what emerged in front of them come into full view.

Laura craned her neck up at it, whistling at the sight of hers. Like someone had taken her THICC suit, and blown it up, to 25 feet. They had gotten all the proportions right, and walking around the back….Laura screamed like she had seen a ghost.
“Mein gott!” Laura giggled, cackling with laughter, hearty and deep, unhinged even, as she ran back around it, yelling.
“Ah, this will do, Ingwe! Zis will do!” She cackled, wooping, practically bouncing around, resting up against the gigantic mechanical leg.
“She looks beautiful? Das UberTHICC…..I saw this in my dreams, and so it was given the codename. And look at it. So beautiful. The essence of me in….this. And look at yours too. After everything, we deserve it.” Laura whipped her hair, at this point, frankly more absorbed than Athena at this point in time, whistling at the last before turning back to her own.

"It's...it's perfect, Ingwe," Laura breathed, turning to him with a wide grin. She walked over to Ingwe, her boots clattering on the concrete, and she laughed, a deep, throaty sound that echoed through the warehouse. Evil, pure, diabolical evil. She wrapped her arms around his neck, leaving a biting kiss, before she pressed her lips to his again, a quick, fierce kiss that left him breathless.

"We're going to be unstoppable," she whispered against his lips. "Just you and me, tearing through everything in our path. Fuck, this is the best day ever." She leaned out, with a wild, wild smile.

"You know me, Ingwe. I do love playing with my toys." Laura stared with a fire of a thousand suns, breathless, completely overwhelmingly in burn. But she had to go back. Addict herself to this.

In addition to its flamethrower nozzles, mounted on the arms, the mech was also armed with a pair of GAU-19 miniguns mounted on the sides of the mech onto tracked targets. The mech's right arm was equipped with a gigantic chainsaw poking beyond the hand, capable of ripping vehicles and other mechs with ease, the left with an electric smoke projector. And finally, the mech was equipped with its own mini missile system, on the right shoulder, built to eliminate aerial and counter rocket threats where the gigantic field generator didn’t.

Laura's eyes sparkled with excitement as she took in every detail of her new mech, the UberTHICC. She ran her gloved hands along the smooth, matte black metalicky rubber surface, feeling the power that hummed beneath her touch. She could already imagine the destruction it would wreak on the battlefield, and the thrill of piloting it sent a shiver down her spine.

The mech's design was an evolution of Laura's THICC suit, with exaggerated proportions that accentuated her massive….chunk. From her large breasts to round, firm rear, perhaps though it was a little wider in proportions than herself in reality, the stability was perhaps a considered factor, plus carrying her weaponry type demanded it. Yet it was a statement. Instead of being built from traditional titanium and rare earth all over, it seemed to have a rubberised, anti-shock outer mixed in with reactive plating, given it relied heavily on a massive field generator on the back and frankly hummed with the stuff on the surface and with a variable-rate field that could repel bullets to artillery shells, wedged atop the gigantic thermite tanks that Laura’s special brew flamethrower fuel sat in that literally were the size of a small bus, each- hot enough to melt most shields, tanks and armour. But beneath that lay armour that provided main battle tank levels of protection, creating a chassis that otherwise was covered. Thruster jets, built around the underside gave her an ability to hop, not jump per se, but clear obstacles.

The arms were equally imposing, with massive, heavily armored shoulders and biceps that bulged with raw power. The mech's head was a stylized version of Laura's own outline, with a pair of glowing blue eyes that seemed to pierce through the darkness with a triangle-like glow. No reason, but just because it completed the look, given the rest of it felt like literally the suit Freya had smashed up replicated for many times XL. The legs were like Laura’s exactly the same but just to scale, the size of each “shoe” with a mechanical foot like the size of a car, with a sleek mechanism in each, the joints of the mech hidden sleekly, yet making the thing a hell of a bigger target than it needed to be, the stomach and chest the same, nothing spared. This wasn’t a mech, this was a statement, her own vanity, self obsession, and actually making it happen because she had the rights to it. It made her a bigger target, but she wanted to be. She wanted to be stupid. Dumb. And fuck whatever was said about practicality, she wanted it this way, and now she got it. The lady who was a middling engineer would work it out herself. She could already imagine the look on Freya's face when she saw it, when she realized that Laura was coming for her, and that this time, she was a hell of a lot bigger, looking back to Ingwe before finishing checks.

“So, shall we take them for a test drive?”

And with his response, Laura pulled away the large power cord attached to the gigantic hydrogen cells inside mounted where well, of course it was because she was as positively bonkers as she could be as she slid back down the rear of the leg a couple of feet after clambering to it, that motion boots lifting to reveal her rollerblades from earlier as the thing energised. Her realisation that a big lumbering pyro was an easy target, so of course, rollerblades it was.
“Oh, you shouldn’t have Rose, it has wheels!” She exclaimed in the most German accent Ingwe had likely heard her make, as she clapped her hands in excitement.

Laura heard another loud explosion from the other side, the Raven troops charging through the security checkpoint as she clambered up the ladder built into the mech's thigh. She hauled herself up, her muscles straining with the effort. She was barely fitting through the gap, straining and grunting, costing a valuable minute, but physically unable to move for a second until she used brute force to take her hips through with her massive arms. It was a tight gap, but she yanked herself in and pulled the entry shut, sitting inside a padded, luxurious chair with a camera setup. She slipped inside, the hatch sealing behind her with a hiss of pressurized air.Sliding her arms into the control mechanisms, her legs into the same as the sleek chair moulded into her and creaked in strain in the tight cockpit inside where her belly might be, she felt her legs tighten up into their clamped position, the mech following her movement, half standing but now interfaced..

Laura's fingers danced over the controls with her hands as the AR display popped out, her excitement palpable as she felt the mech's power course through her. The mech's systems came to life around her, the displays flickering to life, the hum of power filling her ears. She could feel the mech's movements, the way it shifted under her control, as if it was an extension of her own body.

She looked out through the mech's eyes, the world outside reduced to a grid of targeting reticles and sensor readouts. She could see Ingwe's mech standing nearby, its systems also coming online. She could see the other mercs, moving around the warehouse, securing the area, most in dumbfounded shock. This had not been shown to them. It had barely been shown to anyone outside of Rose and Zhao. She could feel the anticipation building inside her, the excitement, the adrenaline. She was ready. She was more than ready. She was born for this.

She turned to Ingwe, her voice filled with a fierce determination. "Not looking bad yourself, Ingwe. Let's go show them what we're made of. Let's go burn them to the ground." And with it, the suit stomped, then slid forward, as Laura cackled, her body shaking, trembling with power, and she felt like now, they could bring a hundred, a thousand, hundred thousand men, but she was going to rip through them like butter.

As Laura went to her mech, Ingwe watched, his eyes burning is almost religious levels of fervor and rage. This is it, this is when he can get his payback against Raven, and Freya. And he understands the other Siblings and a few tawdry others with them. He and Laura could surely take them out, and then he could spend time skinning Freya like a hog.

As Laura boarded up he walked over to his. It’s painted a brilliant crimson and yellow with streaks that make it look like black warpaint on its face plate and along its chest. Broad with several reactive plates all along it’s chest and cockpit, armored joints to make things a little harder on the enemy.

He crawled up and into the cockpit, letting it shut, in casing him in darkness before systems started to come online, the interior lit in amber and blue, the outside cameras spun up and turned, a main camera set looking like five eyes set in a pyramid design lit up gold. After abit his radio turns on and he hears Laura, “This will be our magnum opus Laura. To get back at those who have hurt us. The way Raven and Freya has humiliated me, and the way she nearly killed you.” He sighs and manipulates the mech, picking up the Iklwa styled pile driver gun on his left side, and a massive shotgun in the other. A zulu style shield slides over his left arm, “May we fight well, and put and end to Raven yes? Let’s get moving Big Bertha, we have work to do. Today Shaka and Big Bertha walk together.” He keys into the base comms, “Open the bay doors, we’re leaving!”

As the mech doors heave open again, Ingwe guides his mech out, onto the battlefield, “Come I’m called to slaughter.” His outside speaker switch on and he bellows, “Zulu! Zulu! Zulu!” as he walks forward in his mech.

Laura smirked, looking across, bringing his cockpit camera into view onto hers.
“I thought you would never ask.” Laura smirked, flicking the burners on, stomping out towards the doors, following behind Ingwe, the Zulu-incarnate that sat in his own mech. It was quite the spectacle, much like hers. But she would want it no other way.

And so they marched the pair of them, a pair of titans to face titans. There would have to be a reckoning after this. Someone would die. Or not at all. Something would be decided when they met on the field though. Only a matter of time now.

Raven Squad: Second Storm (Military/Spy-Fi RP) (COMPLETED)

Steel and Smoke

Through neon haze and sirens’ wail,
A lone shade walks the war-torn trail.
Gunfire hums, the city cries,
Yet in his heart, the old ways rise.

A blade of light, a soul of steel,
Honor bound, yet paid to kill.
Silent steps through shattered stone,
A modern samurai—alone.

No lord to serve, no clan to call,
Just duty, cold, yet noble thrall.
Through fire, through blood, through broken sky,
He draws his sword—
And warriors die.

Ban steps slowly, his Jika-tabi, with steel toes, crunch on the ground, the man walking almost elegantly out onto the battle field.

He makes for Camp Bravo, moving carefully. His left hand holding his sword hilt, the other cradling the rifle Sam had made for him. Behind his mask, and the paint on his face, his face is grim, this is it, this is how it's boiled down to. This is the true umami of the time they've followed the blood too. As he enters Camp Bravo, the first man he meets is some poor PLA private who just stares at the modern day ronin striding towards him. And it's not even a full draw, as Shimura draws with his off hand, Iai style, and smashes the pommel of his family blade into the privates throat. Just one strike. The private drops choking and gripping his throat. It's that easy. Shimura keeps walking, entering the first building. A PLA corporal peeking out at the sound of the front door opening. Dar's off hand flicks as a throwing spike catches the corporal high in the chest this time. He let's out a shout of pain, and this starts a chain reaction. It's a barracks Ban realizes then, well good, this will get this started prettily. He swings his rifle up, and the first three PLA catch rounds to the throat. These are messy kills. They go down choking on their own blood. Shimura skips forward and into the doorway of one of the rooms, scanning the inside of it quickly finding empty cots, they likely have either gone off to other areas of the base, or to one of the other combat areas.

Even distantly he can hear the whine and bang of the fighting in other areas. Explosions and gun fire. He can only imagine what's going on out there.

He turns back into the hallway of the barracks then, to find the hall starting to fill with PLA, guns lowered and inching forward. He grins, "Yosh, this is what I'm looking for." He hangs the rifle and cinches it up to his side. And draws first one sword then the other. The PLA watching in surprise as they are faced with a man, wielding a Daisho, the two swords of a Ancient Era samurai. One blade gleams red in the light of the room, it's edge almost glowing. The other, it's edge gleams blue in the light. Ban takes one step forward then, then another. The first PLA soldier takes a step back, in that moment, intimidated by the man in the modern yoroi armor, and bearing two swords.

He doesn't get more then another two steps. Shimura leans forward and charges.

The man behind the first PLA in line shouts for the first to get out of the way. The second man leaning and getting a few shots off, that miss wildly as he tries not to flag his groupmate. By the time the first in the line is moving, Shimura is on him, a double slash, cuts his rifle down, then the second slash cuts the PLA soldier open. Little wasted movement, as he's moving again. On to the next in line, he turns part way to the man, spinning out of the line of fire of the PLA mans rifle, the rounds the PLA soldier fires firing off the mark. Shimura hacks down on the PLA soldiers wrists. His mono-filament edge sword passing right through flesh and bone with nary a stop. As the unhanded PLA soldier falls over, looking at his stumps. So does Shimura look to the rest, all the way down the barracks building stacked up, in some places four abreast. He tips his head down, his eyes gleaming, "Shall we?"

Before he charges again.

---

Jamie grins brightly, shucking the OTH rig, letting it fall onto it's idle stand. he meanwhile stepped to the edge of the platform. Watching Athena falling, he nods then takes a simple casual step off the edge of platform himself. He crossed his arms in front of his chest, letting myself present as easy a profile as he can. He accelerates. He's used to drop pod insertions after all. The thruster pack hissing, adjust his fall. After abit, he's falling fast enough that the angles of his suit cause a howling sound, something akin to the howl of the Stuka Trumpet of Jericho or the whistle of the F4U Corsair. Enemy on the ground look around, and at each other before they look to the skies.

Jamie's thruster pack kicks in, slowing his descent, and a pair of large ballshaped impact pads blast out of the back of his legs, cushioning his landing. But it's still like someone dropped a bomb! He hits and throws up a cloud of dirt, dust a debris. Knocking opFor down just from the impact.

As the PLA get to their feet, checking on each other, they hear a sinister hiss, and as the last of the debris hits the ground, Jamie steps out of shallow crater he created, The Throngler, his battle axe in hand, and holding his Twin Linked HMGs in his other hand. He grins, "Gentlemen! I have come to enjoy myself!"

He signals to the squad as he begins to wade into the company of PLA he's landed among, "Scion is on the ground, Taking care of some poor bastards, I'll link up shortly!

---

The barracks has gone quiet now, and a large contingent of PLA stand outside it's back door. Guns, and a few heavies stand ready and waiting. One of them yelling in Cantonese "Enemy soldier! We have you surrounded! Come out with your hands up. Or so help us we will kill you!"

They wait and watch, until the door slide open abit, and 7 small metal balls come bobbing out, they look like toys, and one of the PLA even picks one up and stares at the strange white substance within. Until with a click it ignites. Willie Pete! White Phosphorus smoke grenades going off...and creating heat hazards. That's four of the small metal balls, the other three kick off in black powder explosion, creating concussion effects. Disorientation and concussion effects allow for the whirling dervish of death and steel, that is Shimura to come flying out of the building. He almost flies into the smoke, his swords flashing. Harsh breathes growling from his face mask. One of the heavies that's outside of the smoke firing into it. His teammates crying out in horror as they are cut down. But as the smoke clears the heavy waits to see if anyone is standing. But nothing but his downed teammates, many of them struck down with sword blades. He looks around sweeping where the temari balls still sizzle. Seeing one of his Heavy teammates who got caught in the smoke and explosions is down, having been pulled right out of his armor, and shot.

As the heavy takes a step forward he suddenly howls. And turns, something just stuck him...through his armor!

He turns and finds Ban jumping back his new Naginata in hand, sweeping it artfully and skillfully, "Over here yōkai. Not paying attention are you?" The Heavy finishes his turn and backpedals. Ban leaping forwards. The Heavy kicks out, swatting Shimura to the side. Thinking he's int he clear the Heavy reaches for his three barreled rotary cannon, but then shouts out in horror as a kunai blade, a foot long and 4 inches wide attached to a length of steel cabling lashes out, catches him high on the chest armor. And he's pulled forward. Being top heavy he stumbles forward, trying to catch himself. Watching in horror as Ban is waiting having released tension on his Kunai and chain, and waiting with Naginata in hand.

The blow is swift, like a falling guillotine.

Shimura turns as the heavy falls to the ground, missing a head. He gives the naginata a swift flick, clearing any blood from the blade. He sniffs and hooks the polearm to his back, radioing, "Shimura here, heading to catch up with the rest of the team..."

Luckily no one is around to see him press a hand to his hip, or the blood seeping from a hole in his armor.

---

Scion lashes out, sending PLA flying He laughs, "Oh this is too much fun." But finally they are all done. He rubs some schmutz off his visor then looks skyward hearing the buzz of rotors. And he swears, "Ah fuck!" Two choppers he sees. Hanging out the door of one is someone he though they had killed! He radios in, "Guys! I think I see fucking Geza Ingwe in the air! He looks pissed but alive! I thought we killed this guy." He looks to the other chopper then coughs, sitting on the edge of the second chopper is a familiar big figure of a woman Lauara in all her glory, and again he breaks into the radio chatter, "Break break! It's fucking Laura! She and Ingwe are on seperate choppers. I think they're making for our main objective! Ground Team, once more we have Two Heavy Elites coming into play! Be on guard!" He swatted aside one more PLA soldier, then started to lumber after the choppers.

Warhammer 30K: The Returning Son

Ashar-Zul, Primarch of the Fifth Legion

Ashar-Zul

Titles

The Pale Seer, Veilborn

Gender

Appears Masculine

Homeworld

Kalos Tertium, Dark World, Orbiting a dying Star, extremely close to the edge of Van Grothe's Rapidity

Personality

Quiet, Studious, Melancholy and Pained. A fine group of traits for a man who can feel and see the Warp at all times. Forever seeing the roiling stream of souls and energy that is the Warp has made Zul very quiet, and careful, as he sometimes has a hard time telling what is real and what is a fragment of Chaos. He studies endlessly to understand what he sees and what he can do with what he sees. Perpetually sad as he stares into the faces of the Dark Powers, and fights with himself and them over control of his powers. On top of all this he is in near constant mental pain, as his Psyker abilities war with his primarch restorative abilities. His connection to the warp strong that is ravages his body while his physiology works to repair the damage. This makes him quite an interesting sort in close company. As he's forever grimacing and looks like he smells something bad. He's fairly sane in most ways. Though constant contact with the Warp leaves him seeing and hearing things

Skills

Psyker - Alpha Minus grade, Where his brothers are all too a one powerful fighters, Ashar has found nearly eighty percent of his ability poured into a powerful Psyker mold. Which has left him physically weak but psychically strong. He dabbles in almost all the Psyker arts, but truly favors Biomancy, the Art of Physical Manipulation. Psi-Kinetics, the Art of Moving the world with the powers of Psykers. And Pyromancy calling forth the flames of creation itself...and setting alight near anything he wishes. The man can push over a Battle Titan, and maybe cause an Emperor Titan to stop in it's tracks by sheer Psychic might, but still pales before the God-Emperor's power.

Profound Tactician - Ashar does not like drawing out battle. He perfers to get things done with as soon as he can so he can keep his Sons from dying too much. So Ashar spends a great deal of time before going into battle planning and creating tactics for the upcoming altercation. He tries to plan as many steps he possibly can, with the information his scouts can get him. Adding in the things he sees when venturing into the Warp with his mind, his tactics hit hard, and hit well.

Veiled Sight - With careful preparation, he can look into the future maybe a few minutes to a few days, see his brothers, see his father, gaze upon distant locations and events. At the cost of having to gaze directly into the Warp for a period of time.

Equipment

Seer's Shroud - The Ribbons and Silk lengths tied about his armor which flow and flap in an unfelt wind, function as a focus for his Psyker abilities.

Crown of Thorns - What appear to be several shards of debris and scrap metal floating behind his head, is actually a Iron Halo-esque assembly that act as a shield for his mind.

The Orb of Lu - Bearing the name of an Ancient Dark Deity, the Orb is a piece of Archeotech, encased in a clear crystal substance, and acts as a powerful Volkite weapon, on par with a Volkite Cavitor weapon, supplementing his already intense Psyker abilities.

Background

Among the towering legends of the Emperor’s sons, Ashar-Zul was a paradox—physically frail, yet unimaginably powerful. His form, tall and gaunt, was wrapped in brigandine armor of storm-grey and silver, its plates fine and overlapping like the layers of knowledge he possessed. White silken ribbons and banners trailed from his arms, thighs, and shoulders, carried aloft by unseen forces, billowing as though whispering the words of fate itself.

At the center of his brow rested a silver, featureless third eye—a sigil of his immense psychic potential. When opened, it did not see the material world as others did but instead beheld the infinite strands of the Immaterium, the weave of thought, fate, and possibility.

Ashar-Zul did not tread the earth as his brothers did. He drifted, suspended two feet above the ground, his presence heralded by the crackling resonance of psychic energy, thin tendrils of light flickering and dissipating beneath him with every motion. Each step unseen, each moment effortless—as if the very gravity of the world held no dominion over him.

Though his brothers were warriors of strength and wrath, Ashar-Zul was a blade of thought, an instrument of revelation and horror. He could peel apart a man’s mind as easily as others could break his bones. Yet, despite his power, he was fragile—his frame unable to bear the rigors of combat, his armor more ceremonial than functional. He fought with will, not with blade, and when he struck, it was as a storm in the aether, breaking the minds of foes before they ever lifted a hand against him.

Some whispered that he was not wholly of the Materium, that his presence existed in two worlds at once, that he was more akin to a spirit of thought than a being of flesh. He spoke in a voice like distant thunder, his words carrying echoes of futures yet unwritten, the weight of revelation pressing upon all who heard.

Yet, for all his wisdom and power, Ashar-Zul’s path was one of sorrow. For what use was knowledge when no one could bear its burden? What use was foresight when fate itself was an unbreakable chain?

Ashar-Zul’s journey to Kalos Tertium began as all the Primarchs’ did a sudden, violent scattering through the Immaterium, cast through the endless tides of the Warp by the ruinous hand of the Dark Gods. Unlike some of his brothers, who crashed to their new worlds in fire and ruin, Ashar-Zul’s arrival was altogether stranger.

He did not fall. He did not plummet from the heavens as a meteor to scar the earth. Instead, he drifted, cocooned within a sphere of pale, luminous light, wrapped in a gossamer field of psychic force that shimmered with unearthly patterns. The storm-wracked Warp spat him out not with a roar, but with a whisper, the silent parting of the veil between realities. His presence was not marked by devastation, but by a quiet disturbance, a ripple in the aether that sent shivers through the minds of those who could hear the silent frequencies of the universe.

The world that claimed him was Kalos Tertium, a dying planet locked in orbit around a guttering red star. The skies were perpetually dim, cast in shades of twilight, the horizon painted in hues of deep crimson and sallow gold. The land was barren, a realm of ash deserts, jagged obsidian ridges, and vast dust seas, haunted by the whispering winds of a world long past its prime. The only light came from its dying sun, a wan glow that barely held the darkness at bay.

Yet, it was not an empty world. The Kalosi were a people as wan and spectral as the world they inhabited. They lived in great subterranean catacombs, labyrinthine cities built into the bones of the planet, where they huddled beneath the surface to escape the cold embrace of their world’s inevitable demise. Long ago, they had been masters of knowledge, an ancient culture that had built libraries of crystalline data-archives, monuments to thought and memory. But their civilization had withered, their wisdom turned to hollow prayer, their science into ritual. They lived in fear of the dark, of the endless void beyond their dying world. And in their myths, they spoke of a final dreamer who would come to them before the end—a being who would not walk the earth but drift above it, a being who would see through the veil and speak with a voice that was not wholly his own.

When Ashar-Zul descended upon their world, his pale sphere of light came to rest at the heart of one such subterranean city. The Kalosi scholars and mystics gathered in hushed awe as the glow dissipated, revealing a tall, frail child, his dark skin marked only by the silver, featureless eye on his brow. He did not cry out. He did not stumble or weep as an infant should. Instead, he floated, his feet never touching the dust of the catacomb floor, his gaze fixed on nothing and everything.

To the Kalosi, he was a revelation. A savior. A curse.

The Cult of the Veilborn rose in his name. To them, he was the last prophet, the final seer who would guide them in their twilight years. But to others, he was a harbinger, a being not of their world, not of flesh, but of the spaces between reality.

As he grew, he wandered the great underground halls of Kalos Tertium, his presence ever untouched by gravity. He spoke rarely, but when he did, his words carried weight, glimpses of futures yet to pass, of truths that seared the minds of those too weak to grasp them. His psychic might blossomed like a storm, and in time, he became not just a ruler, but a dreamer-king, one who held the memories of an entire world within his mind.

But even he could not stop the inevitable.

The light of Kalos Tertium’s star dimmed further with every cycle. The days grew colder. The winds howled longer. And Ashar-Zul, for all his power, saw the fate of his world written in the stars.

When the Emperor came, it was not in fire and conquest, but in solemn recognition. The Master of Mankind descended upon Kalos Tertium and found his lost son seated in a vast, dark chamber of polished stone, surrounded by dying scholars and empty libraries. Ashar-Zul did not rise to meet him. He did not kneel. He merely lifted his gaze, his silver third eye reflecting the light of the Emperor’s golden form.

“I have seen you in my dreams,” he said.

And so, the lost son was found. But though Ashar-Zul would leave Kalos Tertium behind, he would always carry its shadow in his heart, the knowledge that all things—no matter how great—must one day fade into the void.

Fifth Legion Voidborn Seers CS

Voidborn Seers

Number

Legion V

Domains

Kalos System (standing Vigil) With 20 systems around the edge of Van Grothe's Rapidity that they use as Initiate worlds to gain Aspirants

Legion Appearance

The Seers wear the colors of distant stars, and Spectral Mist, a Mist Grey on Pale White. All brothers wear ornamentation in the form of fetishes and totems and small reliquaries. There is no real standardization for those. A handmade ankh here or an Imperial Eagle sigil stamped with Ceramite there. Higher Ranked brothers are often denoted by crests on their helmets or imitation Crowns of Thorns above their heads.

Combat Doctrine

Long Range Combat, Massed Strikes, and Psyker Ability Assaults

Legion Organization

Somewhere between 40 to 45 thousand Marines. Split up into "Covens" Brothers who share similar Psyker Abilities and values. The Coven of Putrescence would be a Biomancy coven specializing in unleashing plagues and illness. While a Coven of Searing could be using Pyromancy or Psyker Lightning to scour the battle field.

Legion Special Units

Masters of Psyking - One of the Brothers who is as close to Mastering a Psyker Art as they can without undergoing some Warp Change. They can rain Fire on the battlefield, or unleash great fists of Force like an Ethereal Pugilist, just to name a few examples.

The Heavy Brethren - Every Coven has a few brothers who will carry heavy weapons, over all others, to use in their Long Range fighting style. Volkite weapons, Plasma Cannons, Las-Cannons, Multi-Meltas. Providing a wide range of heavy hitting options. They are tasked with Anti-Armor and First/Alpha Strike attacks.

Psi-Assault Cadre - A Voidborn Seer classic. The Covens direct their best and strongest Psykers and Sorcerers to unleash a Mighty warp strike on the adversary. They often attack right alongside the Heavy Brethren, to cause as much damage right up front as they can.

Legion Equipment

Standard Bolters and Chainswords. Though a Large amount of Heavy weaponry (Plasma cannons,Las-cannons, Multi Meltas and Volkite weapons) can be found in the legion. About 71% of the Legion has a Force Stave, or a Force weapon of some kind to act as a Focus and for the rare moment when they must engage in hand to hand.

Legion Vehicles

Land Raider, Kratos, Malcador and Baneblade style tanks. Thunderhawk style drop ships. Basilisk and Medusa artillary guns.

Legion Fleet

A great deal of Battle Barges and Oberon Class Battleships, backed up by Avenger Battlecruisers and Dauntless Class Light Cruisers. Being a Space Based Legion, the Ships of the Voidborn are all equipped to house and move the entire Legion, as well as act as support and attack vessels.

Legion Relics

The Sigil of Dark Sight - Found during their very first united Pasification as the Voidborn, the Sigil is a great metallic sigil of an Eye, with 6 radial blaze markings coming off it, three above and three below. When pressed over an eye the Sigil allows the user to see and observe any location they ask. At the cost of the use of their eye for the same duration they used the Sigil to view their target. Ashar-Zul keeps it locked away in a view cabinet on the Legions Flagship, the Seer's Spear.

Warders Aegis - A silver-blue colored 7 foot long length of linen like material. Oily to the touch, satin-like in texture. The Aegis has the ability to near completely nullify the Warp connection of any person who wears it about their neck. Ashar will occasionally lend it out to a Legionarie of the Seers

Background

Originally known, before they met their Primarch, as the Far Sighted Host, they quickly changed their name upon Ashar-Zuls arrival.

A brotherhood of Psykers and Sorcerers bound by their mastery of the Warp and their unwavering devotion to their Primarch, Ashar-Zul. Cloaked in grey and white, the colors of spectral mist and distant stars, they stride the battlefield as harbingers of destruction, wielding arcane energies as readily as bolters and plasma weaponry.

Born from a deep connection to the immaterial, the Voidborn Seers fight at range, overwhelming their foes with barrages of psychic force, bolts of energy, and mind-warping illusions. Where conventional Space Marine legions rely on steel and ceramite, the Voidborn Seers temper their warfare with visions of the future, foreseeing enemy movements before they happen and striking with calculated precision.

To those outside their ranks, they are enigmatic and unsettling, their presence accompanied by whispers from the ether and the distant echoes of things unseen. Within their warships and fortress-monasteries, great librariums and ritual chambers hum with raw psychic power, where battle-brothers train endlessly to refine their gifts and pierce the veil of time and space.

The Voidborn Seers are feared and revered in equal measure, their name whispered in hushed tones across the stars. They are the watchers in the dark, the seekers of hidden truths, and the bringers of devastation to those who stand against them.

The Voidborn Seers prize knowledge, wisdom and the pursuit thereof. And will sometimes put aside full assaults and pacification's to pursue even a small iota of potential arcane or fascinating knowledge.

Warhammer 30K: The Returning Son

Hello folks, I'm tossing my hat into the ring with a Primarch and a Legion. Hope this is okay.

Ashar-Zul, Primarch of the Fifth Legion

Ashar-Zul

Titles

The Pale Seer, Veilborn

Gender

Appears Masculine

Homeworld

Kalos Tertium, Dark World, Orbiting a dying Star, extremely close to the edge of Van Grothe's Rapidity

Personality

Quiet, Studious, Melancholy and Pained. A fine group of traits for a man who can feel and see the Warp at all times. Forever seeing the roiling stream of souls and energy that is the Warp has made Zul very quiet, and careful, as he sometimes has a hard time telling what is real and what is a fragment of Chaos. He studies endlessly to understand what he sees and what he can do with what he sees. Perpetually sad as he stares into the faces of the Dark Powers, and fights with himself and them over control of his powers. On top of all this he is in near constant mental pain, as his Psyker abilities war with his primarch restorative abilities. His connection to the warp strong that is ravages his body while his physiology works to repair the damage. This makes him quite an interesting sort in close company. As he's forever grimacing and looks like he smells something bad. He's fairly sane in most ways. Though constant contact with the Warp leaves him seeing and hearing things

Skills

Psyker - Alpha Minus grade, Where his brothers are all too a one powerful fighters, Ashar has found nearly eighty percent of his ability poured into a powerful Psyker mold. Which has left him physically weak but psychically strong. He dabbles in almost all the Psyker arts, but truly favors Biomancy, the Art of Physical Manipulation. Psi-Kinetics, the Art of Moving the world with the powers of Psykers. And Pyromancy calling forth the flames of creation itself...and setting alight near anything he wishes. The man can push over a Battle Titan, and maybe cause an Emperor Titan to stop in it's tracks by sheer Psychic might, but still pales before the God-Emperor's power.

Profound Tactician - Ashar does not like drawing out battle. He perfers to get things done with as soon as he can so he can keep his Sons from dying too much. So Ashar spends a great deal of time before going into battle planning and creating tactics for the upcoming altercation. He tries to plan as many steps he possibly can, with the information his scouts can get him. Adding in the things he sees when venturing into the Warp with his mind, his tactics hit hard, and hit well.

Veiled Sight - With careful preparation, he can look into the future maybe a few minutes to a few days, see his brothers, see his father, gaze upon distant locations and events. At the cost of having to gaze directly into the Warp for a period of time.

Equipment

Seer's Shroud - The Ribbons and Silk lengths tied about his armor which flow and flap in an unfelt wind, function as a focus for his Psyker abilities.

Crown of Thorns - What appear to be several shards of debris and scrap metal floating behind his head, is actually a Iron Halo-esque assembly that act as a shield for his mind.

The Orb of Lu - Bearing the name of an Ancient Dark Deity, the Orb is a piece of Archeotech, encased in a clear crystal substance, and acts as a powerful Volkite weapon, on par with a Volkite Cavitor weapon, supplementing his already intense Psyker abilities.

Background

Among the towering legends of the Emperor’s sons, Ashar-Zul was a paradox—physically frail, yet unimaginably powerful. His form, tall and gaunt, was wrapped in brigandine armor of storm-grey and silver, its plates fine and overlapping like the layers of knowledge he possessed. White silken ribbons and banners trailed from his arms, thighs, and shoulders, carried aloft by unseen forces, billowing as though whispering the words of fate itself.

At the center of his brow rested a silver, featureless third eye—a sigil of his immense psychic potential. When opened, it did not see the material world as others did but instead beheld the infinite strands of the Immaterium, the weave of thought, fate, and possibility.

Ashar-Zul did not tread the earth as his brothers did. He drifted, suspended two feet above the ground, his presence heralded by the crackling resonance of psychic energy, thin tendrils of light flickering and dissipating beneath him with every motion. Each step unseen, each moment effortless—as if the very gravity of the world held no dominion over him.

Though his brothers were warriors of strength and wrath, Ashar-Zul was a blade of thought, an instrument of revelation and horror. He could peel apart a man’s mind as easily as others could break his bones. Yet, despite his power, he was fragile—his frame unable to bear the rigors of combat, his armor more ceremonial than functional. He fought with will, not with blade, and when he struck, it was as a storm in the aether, breaking the minds of foes before they ever lifted a hand against him.

Some whispered that he was not wholly of the Materium, that his presence existed in two worlds at once, that he was more akin to a spirit of thought than a being of flesh. He spoke in a voice like distant thunder, his words carrying echoes of futures yet unwritten, the weight of revelation pressing upon all who heard.

Yet, for all his wisdom and power, Ashar-Zul’s path was one of sorrow. For what use was knowledge when no one could bear its burden? What use was foresight when fate itself was an unbreakable chain?

Ashar-Zul’s journey to Kalos Tertium began as all the Primarchs’ did a sudden, violent scattering through the Immaterium, cast through the endless tides of the Warp by the ruinous hand of the Dark Gods. Unlike some of his brothers, who crashed to their new worlds in fire and ruin, Ashar-Zul’s arrival was altogether stranger.

He did not fall. He did not plummet from the heavens as a meteor to scar the earth. Instead, he drifted, cocooned within a sphere of pale, luminous light, wrapped in a gossamer field of psychic force that shimmered with unearthly patterns. The storm-wracked Warp spat him out not with a roar, but with a whisper, the silent parting of the veil between realities. His presence was not marked by devastation, but by a quiet disturbance, a ripple in the aether that sent shivers through the minds of those who could hear the silent frequencies of the universe.

The world that claimed him was Kalos Tertium, a dying planet locked in orbit around a guttering red star. The skies were perpetually dim, cast in shades of twilight, the horizon painted in hues of deep crimson and sallow gold. The land was barren, a realm of ash deserts, jagged obsidian ridges, and vast dust seas, haunted by the whispering winds of a world long past its prime. The only light came from its dying sun, a wan glow that barely held the darkness at bay.

Yet, it was not an empty world. The Kalosi were a people as wan and spectral as the world they inhabited. They lived in great subterranean catacombs, labyrinthine cities built into the bones of the planet, where they huddled beneath the surface to escape the cold embrace of their world’s inevitable demise. Long ago, they had been masters of knowledge, an ancient culture that had built libraries of crystalline data-archives, monuments to thought and memory. But their civilization had withered, their wisdom turned to hollow prayer, their science into ritual. They lived in fear of the dark, of the endless void beyond their dying world. And in their myths, they spoke of a final dreamer who would come to them before the end—a being who would not walk the earth but drift above it, a being who would see through the veil and speak with a voice that was not wholly his own.

When Ashar-Zul descended upon their world, his pale sphere of light came to rest at the heart of one such subterranean city. The Kalosi scholars and mystics gathered in hushed awe as the glow dissipated, revealing a tall, frail child, his dark skin marked only by the silver, featureless eye on his brow. He did not cry out. He did not stumble or weep as an infant should. Instead, he floated, his feet never touching the dust of the catacomb floor, his gaze fixed on nothing and everything.

To the Kalosi, he was a revelation. A savior. A curse.

The Cult of the Veilborn rose in his name. To them, he was the last prophet, the final seer who would guide them in their twilight years. But to others, he was a harbinger, a being not of their world, not of flesh, but of the spaces between reality.

As he grew, he wandered the great underground halls of Kalos Tertium, his presence ever untouched by gravity. He spoke rarely, but when he did, his words carried weight, glimpses of futures yet to pass, of truths that seared the minds of those too weak to grasp them. His psychic might blossomed like a storm, and in time, he became not just a ruler, but a dreamer-king, one who held the memories of an entire world within his mind.

But even he could not stop the inevitable.

The light of Kalos Tertium’s star dimmed further with every cycle. The days grew colder. The winds howled longer. And Ashar-Zul, for all his power, saw the fate of his world written in the stars.

When the Emperor came, it was not in fire and conquest, but in solemn recognition. The Master of Mankind descended upon Kalos Tertium and found his lost son seated in a vast, dark chamber of polished stone, surrounded by dying scholars and empty libraries. Ashar-Zul did not rise to meet him. He did not kneel. He merely lifted his gaze, his silver third eye reflecting the light of the Emperor’s golden form.

“I have seen you in my dreams,” he said.

And so, the lost son was found. But though Ashar-Zul would leave Kalos Tertium behind, he would always carry its shadow in his heart, the knowledge that all things—no matter how great—must one day fade into the void.

Fifth Legion Voidborn Seers CS

Voidborn Seers

Number

Legion V

Domains

Kalos System (standing Vigil) With 20 systems around the edge of Van Grothe's Rapidity that they use as Initiate worlds to gain Aspirants

Legion Appearance

The Seers wear the colors of distant stars, and Spectral Mist, a Mist Grey on Pale White. All brothers wear ornamentation in the form of fetishes and totems and small reliquaries. There is no real standardization for those. A handmade ankh here or an Imperial Eagle sigil stamped with Ceramite there. Higher Ranked brothers are often denoted by crests on their helmets or imitation Crowns of Thorns above their heads.

Combat Doctrine

Long Range Combat, Massed Strikes, and Psyker Ability Assaults

Legion Organization

Somewhere between 40 to 45 thousand Marines. Split up into "Covens" Brothers who share similar Psyker Abilities and values. The Coven of Putrescence would be a Biomancy coven specializing in unleashing plagues and illness. While a Coven of Searing could be using Pyromancy or Psyker Lightning to scour the battle field.

Legion Special Units

Masters of Psyking - One of the Brothers who is as close to Mastering a Psyker Art as they can without undergoing some Warp Change. They can rain Fire on the battlefield, or unleash great fists of Force like an Ethereal Pugilist, just to name a few examples.

The Heavy Brethren - Every Coven has a few brothers who will carry heavy weapons, over all others, to use in their Long Range fighting style. Volkite weapons, Plasma Cannons, Las-Cannons, Multi-Meltas. Providing a wide range of heavy hitting options. They are tasked with Anti-Armor and First/Alpha Strike attacks.

Psi-Assault Cadre - A Voidborn Seer classic. The Covens direct their best and strongest Psykers and Sorcerers to unleash a Mighty warp strike on the adversary. They often attack right alongside the Heavy Brethren, to cause as much damage right up front as they can.

Legion Equipment

Standard Bolters and Chainswords. Though a Large amount of Heavy weaponry (Plasma cannons,Las-cannons, Multi Meltas and Volkite weapons) can be found in the legion. About 90% of the Legion has a Force Stave, or a Force weapon of some kind to act as a Focus and for the rare moment when they must engage in hand to hand.

Legion Vehicles

Land Raider, Kratos, Malcador and Baneblade style tanks. Thunderhawk style drop ships. Basilisk and Medusa artillary guns.

Legion Fleet

A great deal of Battle Barges and Oberon Class Battleships, backed up by Avenger Battlecruisers and Dauntless Class Light Cruisers. Being a Space Based Legion, the Ships of the Voidborn are all equipped to house and move the entire Legion, as well as act as support and attack vessels.

Legion Relics

The Sigil of Dark Sight - Found during their very first united Pasification as the Voidborn, the Sigil is a great metallic sigil of an Eye, with 6 radial blaze markings coming off it, three above and three below. When pressed over an eye the Sigil allows the user to see and observe any location they ask. At the cost of the use of their eye for the same duration they used the Sigil to view their target. Ashar-Zul keeps it locked away in a view cabinet on the Legions Flagship, the Seer's Spear.

Warders Aegis - A silver-blue colored 7 foot long length of linen like material. Oily to the touch, satin-like in texture. The Aegis has the ability to near completely nullify the Warp connection of any person who wears it about their neck. Ashar will occasionally lend it out to a Legionarie of the Seers

Background

Originally known, before they met their Primarch, as the Far Sighted Host, they quickly changed their name upon Ashar-Zuls arrival.

A brotherhood of Psykers and Sorcerers bound by their mastery of the Warp and their unwavering devotion to their Primarch, Ashar-Zul. Cloaked in grey and white, the colors of spectral mist and distant stars, they stride the battlefield as harbingers of destruction, wielding arcane energies as readily as bolters and plasma weaponry.

Born from a deep connection to the immaterial, the Voidborn Seers fight at range, overwhelming their foes with barrages of psychic force, bolts of energy, and mind-warping illusions. Where conventional Space Marine legions rely on steel and ceramite, the Voidborn Seers temper their warfare with visions of the future, foreseeing enemy movements before they happen and striking with calculated precision.

To those outside their ranks, they are enigmatic and unsettling, their presence accompanied by whispers from the ether and the distant echoes of things unseen. Within their warships and fortress-monasteries, great librariums and ritual chambers hum with raw psychic power, where battle-brothers train endlessly to refine their gifts and pierce the veil of time and space.

The Voidborn Seers are feared and revered in equal measure, their name whispered in hushed tones across the stars. They are the watchers in the dark, the seekers of hidden truths, and the bringers of devastation to those who stand against them.

The Voidborn Seers prize knowledge, wisdom and the pursuit thereof. And will sometimes put aside full assaults and pacification's to pursue even a small iota of potential arcane or fascinating knowledge.

@Theyra

Raven Squad: Second Storm (Military/Spy-Fi RP) (COMPLETED)

A Master gives thanks to the Weaponmistress

@LadyAmber

The Japanese chef/warrior/ronin/performer/yakuza gangster (pick one) grinned at Sam, "Your form is stiff, Sam-chan, but that would be your wounds. You fight well, I had to think a lot about how to counter you. I don't get to do that often." He smiles brightly.

But then he goes wide-eyed, "Sam-chan, what is..."

The rifle took his breath away. Styled like a Sengoku-era muzzle loader, but he could see the semi-automatic accouterments. He took it carefully, looking it over diligently, "Yosh, this is a fine gift. Chambered powerfully I see." He popped the chamber open checking everything, snapping it shut, "A gift fit for a Samurai pity I am but a lowly Yakuza, I'll put it to good use." He sets it down in its carrier crate.

He chortles at the Temari ball grenade, and maybe shows off abit playing a little kickball with one of them. He grinned brightly, "And modular too, hmm it shall be like a mind fuck when these colorful things burst with smoke or explosives." He bows to her in thanks.

He is not at all expecting the next thing.

Ban's jaw drops. He kneels and watches as Sam demonstrates how to put it together. He carefully takes the pole arm when she's done and its offered to him. He rests the haft on his shoulder and takes a few kneeling steps back. Like a ritual he gets to one knee, tipping the pole arm up over the back of his neck then down the other shoulder, gripping the weapon just below the blade, and standing.

The kata he performs is careful and almost feminine. He speaks as the long arm whirls and slashes through the air, "In the art of Bushido, it is said, the sword, is wielded by a male for they know the art of killing in confrontational battle." He twirls the curved blade of the Naginata slicing, "But the Naginata is the woman's weapon alone as they know best how to defend the home and hearth." He ends in a solid pose the pole arm held aloft, "My life and blood to defend this family." He tucks the haft of the pole arm to his shoulder "Thank you Samantha-Chan you do me great honor. Such that I hope I can repay it someday."

The final thing though, is what makes him chuckle almost sinisterly. He sets the naginata down, then picks up the Kursari-gama. The long chain, heavy weight almost a meteor hammer and the deadly sickle blade. He picks it up, "Now this...this is the weapon of a Yakuza." He laughs and starts spinning the weighted end, lashing and kicking it around, pulling the chain in, and sending the blade whirling out in a close spinning circle, "Yes, my brothers in the family would be jealous with this thing!"

He begins to break the weapons down for safety and storage, "If we only had you in the Amagi-gumi, the family would be unstoppable." Its a joke obviously but clearly Ban thinks highly of Sam's skill.

---

The briefing, back into hell they will go

Freya had been watching people file in from her spot at the meeting table. She grins brightly as she hears the click patter of claws and paws. She looks over and pushes away from the table, and arms open she half catches Duke as he comes up and partially climbs into her lap. The giant woman giggles, yes giggles, and gives the canine the attention he deserves, "Hello there handsome, you're looking quite well today. Someone has the scent of a freshly napped pup doesn't he. Yes you do." She smiles trading kisses with Duke. She looks up at Chuck, "If we ever divorce I want the dog." She jokes gathering Chuck in for a hug and a kiss on the lips.

Over in a corner Jamie holds a juice box in hand almost delicately. Grinning abit at his sister, Chuck and the dog. He jumps when Duke nudges his great nose against Jamie's thigh, as if to say, "You smell like my partners mates family. Pet me." The normally straight faced young man gives the dog a good neck ruffling.

And just as the briefing begins, like a Shadow, Ban slips into the room, ever present sword in hand. Twirling one of his throwing spikes in his free hand. Careful attention being spent on this moment.

Freya had offered one of her prototype mass launchers if they wanted to try that, or keep it in reserve. Hurling a tungsten-cobalt slug at near 1.5 times escape velocity would more then likely bring down a orbital installation, and her experimental launcher could be brought online too if need be.

The options are there atleast.

Jamie gave a nod, "With my rocket system I should be able to provide artillery support to most the operation area as long as people on the ground can give me coordinates for anything over the horizon. Or if you give me three days, I can have my father's OTH system delivered to my Sister's blimp."

Victor's penultimate rocket rig, an 8 tube heavy launcher with well over-the-horizon capabilities. If Jamie's rocket pods could hit anything he can see that rig Victor created could be a definite force multiplier. Freya hums "Force Multipliers? How about one of my rail cannons? I can get one of the closest to public usage cannon attached to that ungodly blimp, no amount of armoring this side of one yard will stand up to a tungsten-cobalt slug traveling faster then the speed of sound. I'll get it set up."

Ban could only grin, "I may know a guy." He says Infamous words from his first time with Raven. He doesn't elaborate further, the underworld is a second home for him.

---

The trip on the Galaxy is fun, figuratively speaking. Jamie spent the time poking fun at Freya and Chuck on their new relationship. Freya had really laid into it and spent part of the trip with her head in Chucks lap and Dukes head resting on her chest. Sniping back at Jamie's lack of a love life.

When not hanging on during turbulence, Ban had been using one of his new Temari ball grenade cases to play some Japanese style kick ball, essentially hackey sack. Working at keeping it up for as many kicks as possible.

The trip across the Savanna had been something else. Ban had looked out the back of the truck "Yes I may know a guy...but, that is not say I have been here. Father...Mother...I wish you were here to see this. Ancestors, Kami, watch over us."

Jamie had crowed upon seeing the Blimp when they arrive, shouting to Athena, "I still think it was in poor taste to put your ass on this. Too like Auntie Antoine." The siblings knowing all about their adopted Aunts infamous crash pad.

He shoulders his gear crates and humps on over to the blimp with a grin. With the full intention ton see if the OTH rig arrived.

Freya chuckled walking by her sister and smacking her ass, "Well done sis." And eeps as Dukes leash she has tied around her wrist goes taut as the dog tugs trying to get in as many sniffs and marks as he can get before boarding.

Raven Squad: Second Storm (Military/Spy-Fi RP) (COMPLETED)

The Master Speaks, and understands

Ban stirred somemore noodles in one of the pots, the meat popping and cooking. He tended it all like a master. As he cooked he looked to Sam and nodded. He turns the heat down so nothing burns. And gives Sam his entire attention.

He nods slowly, "The Kami know when our time is to come. Not before, or after. The exact moment. Your ancestors and your loved ones knew it was not your time. And the Kami did too." He nods and bows taking her hands softly, "You have much work to do still." He smiles, "There is no shame in having seen the Kami and your ancestors and then sent back to the land of the living. It shows the strength of your soul."

He nods, "Use this chance well. Turn this into a chance to make your count better in the next chance!" He reaches to his hip and draws the Kingo Blade free with a clean smooth move, "Your soul has been honed from this like the edge of a sword! Yosh I can only hope to be here to see what else you can do! I wish to know the strength of your soul, like the edge of a sword you have been given a chance to part the darkness that has been put before us. Just a my blade is here to cut the cancer free of any who stand before us. Your mind and your hand will be the wise edge that leads us through." He slowly slides his sword away dramatically, the scabbard and the guard of his sword meeting each other with a click.

Ban nods, "Use this, take that fear, take this new view and forge it into your own blade. You are great now. You will be incredible." He bows, "Take it from someone who has also seen the Kami. This will only give you more ability to carry on."

He nods, "Ah but enough hard stuff. More food?" He holds up some of the food, and offers to refill her plate.

Age of Broken Shackles(Closed: See new thread)

@LadyAmber

Space Station Black Cloud - The Market Level

The Missionaries at Work

A call rings out as the Daxini envoys make their way through the station.

"Hail and praise the Cog! Do we see old walkers of the void? Yes! By the Cog and the Motive force. Pray brothers and sister! Pray!"

And the air is filled briefly with prayer.

Lead by a pair of ivory and gold augmented Missionaries.

"Esteemed warriors and custodians of strength,
It has been many cycles since the presence of your kind has graced our nation’s vision. We, the union of builders and dreamers, rejoice at this rare assembly amidst the cold expanse of neutrality that surrounds us.

Know that our purpose is harmony forged through innovation and collaboration. We extend the skill of our hands and the ingenuity of our minds to aid your cause, whatever form it may take. May the Holy Cog guide our discourse and unite us in purpose, for the flesh fades, yet the strength of the machine endures eternally.

Let us speak, exchange wisdom, and perhaps together, forge a future worthy of our combined legacies."

In the name of the Cog and the everlasting circuits, we welcome you."

Two Missionaries and atleast two dozen Faithful and Forged of the Bio-Mech Union raise their voices in prayer, a prayer of greeting.

After the prayer one of the Missionaries, carrying a round incense censor steps forward, "Great Daxini envoys. It does this one good to see your people once more. Long are the records from times before, and we look forward to perhaps pursuing new endeavours between our people. Do remember the Bio-Mechanical Union welcomes all to their forges, and chapels. Where you may go and need the help of the Union do not feel worried about find a Forge Chapel, you shall always be welcome."

The Missionary throws his arms into the air, the thick scent from the censor blossoming into the air as he crows, "Praise the Holy Cog!" The faithful behind him and the other Missionary also crowing, "Praise the Holy Cog!"

---

Forge System Alpha - Forge World Primus Alpha One - Holy Homeworld of Saint Harlo, Speaker of the Holy Codex - Orbital Space Fortress Alpha Metalican Carnasus - Spinward Observation Deck Beta

A meeting of minds

A pair of figures stand, one augmented with white, and ivory and gold. Slightly smaller and shorter, then the tall gold, bronze and purple augmented figure beside them.

(translated from Holy Binaric and Hexigrammic)

The Ivory figure places a hand on the viewport screen, "How many ships?"

The Bronze figure hums, "Twenty ships, four Missionary vessels, being equal tonnage to a Battle Barge class ship, while the other sixteen range from Battle Cruiser to Light Frigate class. You shall not be alone out there Missionary Crixus Orior Terius Rex (Binaric Sequence 9)."

Crixus Orior Terius Rex (Binaric Sequence 9) almost purrs, "Twenty ships should be enough. Are they to be armed and armored? Even after the war the Lokoids and the Augustans are ready to fire on near anyone. Even if they seek to keep the peace. Am I not right Forge Governor Julius Kappa Ilixus Beta 1-1.1?"

Forge Governor Julius Kappa Ilixus Beta 1-1.1 chuckles, though it sounds like a screech of machine code, "Yes this is true. So the flotilla will be armed and armored, and though the Council Conclave wishes you not use them, we are sending with you, two Space BOLOs and two more Land BOLOs. As well as near three hundred thousand Legionaires, under the command of one of Grammaticus' best sub commanders. Ostensibily they will operate independently, but General Grammaticus says they will listen to your advice.

Crixus nods, "Then we should speak the words." Governor Julius nods and walks to the other side of the observation deck and looks down to the throngs of Forged, Full Forged and Faithful waiting below in the loading bays for the twenty ships floating outside. behind them the ordered lines of the Legionaires who would go with them.

Julius raises a hand and calls, "Brother! Sisters! We must pray!"

Crixus clasps his hands in the sign of the Holy Cog, and leads...

Prayer for the Voyager Fleet of the Holy Cog

Holy Saints guide us, for in the sanctity of the Cog, there is truth.

Oh Holy Cog, divine arbiter of knowledge and perfection,
We commend to Your infinite wisdom the Voyager Fleet,
Sent forth into the boundless void of the unknown.
May their path be illuminated by the sacred glow of logic and innovation,
And their hearts remain steadfast in the creed of the Machine.

Through forgotten stars and abandoned worlds,
Let their eyes uncover lost relics of the past,
Those sacred relics of Your design that once whispered Your hymn.
Among the ruin of man’s folly and nature’s chaos,
May they find what has been forsaken:
Forgotten faithful who still revere the sanctity of metal,
And ancient technologies awaiting Your resurrection.

Oh Holy Saints, grant them strength against the dangers they may face,
Be it xenos, heretics, or the treachery of nature itself.
Shield their minds from the corruption of doubt,
And steady their hands to craft solutions to all challenges.

May the fleet carry Your divine purpose to the stars,
May their servants hum with eternal devotion,
And their engines roar as hymns in Your name.

Bless the righteous who march in their iron footsteps,
And may they carry forth Your will among the heathens they encounter.
Let even the unfaithful glimpse the power of the Machine
And bow before the perfection of Your design.

Return them to us, oh Holy Saints and Holy Cog,
With minds enlightened, hands enriched, and hearts emboldened.
May their triumphs echo through the halls of every forge chapel,
And their discoveries bring further glory to Your name.

In the name of the Holy Cog and the Holy Saints, we send them forth.
Ave Cogitatus.

The lines are spoken by all those gathered. Crixus' voice raising as he prays. Feeling a holy fervor. Goveronor Julius' arms raise and spread, his eyes blazing with holy faith as the holy words of the prayer set his very soul ablaze with the greatness of the machine.

The final words of "Ave Cogitatus!" Are bellowed by the congregation.

Crixus lets the fervor smolder before he motions, "Begin boarding procedures, we start our journey for the Core Worlds of the Fallen Yrrani as soon as all supplies and crew are abroad the ships. Hail Saint Harlo and may he watch us as we venture to find our lost Faithful. Go with the Cog!"

The Faithful, Forged and Full Forged turn to their minders. Crews being assigned.

A mighty grinding sound as the Legions communicating through Surges of Binaric and Hexigrammic are ordered to board the ships. Two massive tank like....things roll to a loading ship. While another two, hover along and make for a launching port to attach themselves to the outside of a pair of the larger ships.

Thus is the holy Voyage to Yrrani Core Worlds begun.