Member
Zeus23
Not a Sayan
Fading Memory
CrypticMeaning
Lurking Krog
Ariamis
Lunamaria HawkeStukov listened to first the shifting of responsibility from Smiles should anything go wrong, and before he could get a word in edgewise, Watchman snapped on the psyker as he spoke on very harsh truths, but they were truths. Men like him and Watchman were not typically at liberty to be able to ignore the rules and do their own thing. The military structure of an Armsman and Guardsman, respectfully, didn't allow for that kind of thing. It was something that he had intended to try and explain later, under less pressing circumstances, but the veteran had not wasted time beating around the bush about it. And Stukov could not blame him, not with the results he had seen so far. But he never had a problem with psykers as people, it was their powers that worried him. But when one faces the raw face of the warp, belching unending waves of death and destruction into the ship carrying you through its domain, that tends to ingrain itself in one's psyche. But as the veteran entered the hallway, he was noticing the increased attempts by Smiles to find a way that would not make her walk through there, and he could hazard a guess why. "I won't be as blunt as Watchman was, but he isn't wrong about one thing. Cannon fodder like us never typically make it far disobeying orders. But I can tell you none of us want to go through there, but part of our job is to go where no one else wants to. That is what makes us soldiers, we do what we don't want to, for the sake of others. I won't tell you what to do, I ain't your boss, that's the glorious leader's job. But if this is anything like raw exposure, they won't discriminate, and setting off a beacon like that, doesn't seem wise. But I have never left someone behind who's on my squad, not as long as they kept drawing breath. Something goes wrong, you ain't going to be ditched. My problem and concern is always with the warp, not the ones 'gifted' with wielding the power. You have my word on that."
Stukov sighed, his ten seconds prior to entering the hallway was about to tick over, his normal manner of speaking accelerated to get everything he intended to in. He gave Smiles a nod, turning to face the corridor and, right before crossing the threshold said his last bit. "Sound off if you need a hand, I'll drag you out if I have to. But if you intend to warp anyways, or need to out of necessity, grab me before hand. It would be rude for a lady to go without escort. That's how that works, yea?" Weak humor interjection aside, he would begin moving. He swallowed once and walked into the corridor, and kept his eyes locked on the back of Watchman's head, peripheral vision immediately aware of the dancing, laughing, pink eyed statues as the whispers grew louder in his ears, more so than Boss or Watchman had heard. "Stukov, why do you turn from us again? The warp would have welcomed you and your brothers, had you not resisted. You could have saved them all, with our gifts..." It took all of the Armsman's will not to open fire on the statues, focusing on past experience in resisting the warp. A Daemon always lied, whatever it had to say or promise to condemn a man. He focused on this truth, not allowing himself to even consider what the possessed statues were saying. "A daemon only lies until the truth hurts more, Armsman..."
The whispers were insistent, nearly drowning out anything else he could have heard from his surroundings. About all that would pierce the veil of noise was the vox link should it go off. But, no matter what promises, from stealing back the souls lost to the Dark Eldar, restoring his leg, or any powers to prevent any more to be lost to the currents of the Warp, the Armsman kept marching forward. The weight was heavy on his shoulders, guilt gnawing at him as the whispers went from bargaining, soothing, to accusing and damning. He had a job to do, and if he could resist as a green, rookie Armsman so many years ago, there was no way in HELL he was giving in now. His grip on the shotgun tightened to white knuckle, but he kept the barrel firmly pointed at the ground. There was no way it could be taken as menacing, and as much as his instincts screamed shoot them, even that small part of the mind that wanted to yield and agree, he kept marching without a word or even acknowledging their existence. He was mouthing prayers to the Emperor, not a word coming out, and he kept his mind filled with the very same litany, over and over again. The one he intoned before walking into the corridor, attempting to mentally drown out the whispers the best way he could without resorting to violence, and his own mental focus clarified with the reasoning that came with it.
Stukov was no hero or war veteran, just a survivor of extraordinary circumstances. And his sheer, he wouldn't lie, fear of the warp helped prevent any thoughts of taking up the daemons offer's or submitting to their condemnations from taking hold as the prayer looped. He had stared the warp in the eyes, and it haunted him to this day. That haunting fear, the old scars that never healed, the pain of watching so many better men and women, from fellow armsman cut down like so many weeds to the Navigator as he was ripped to shreds by raw warp power, that took over in time with the praying. Each word hurt, and it kept him focused now, and while some would focus on rage, pride, or purity, Stukov was not that kind of man. The pain and fear of what the warp would REALLY do to him kept him going long after any will to disobey Boss would have faded, and while he wanted to bolt and just escape like nothing else, he kept going. Emperor willing it would all end before he knew it, and would be out of this DAMNED corridor.
Stukov sighed, his ten seconds prior to entering the hallway was about to tick over, his normal manner of speaking accelerated to get everything he intended to in. He gave Smiles a nod, turning to face the corridor and, right before crossing the threshold said his last bit. "Sound off if you need a hand, I'll drag you out if I have to. But if you intend to warp anyways, or need to out of necessity, grab me before hand. It would be rude for a lady to go without escort. That's how that works, yea?" Weak humor interjection aside, he would begin moving. He swallowed once and walked into the corridor, and kept his eyes locked on the back of Watchman's head, peripheral vision immediately aware of the dancing, laughing, pink eyed statues as the whispers grew louder in his ears, more so than Boss or Watchman had heard. "Stukov, why do you turn from us again? The warp would have welcomed you and your brothers, had you not resisted. You could have saved them all, with our gifts..." It took all of the Armsman's will not to open fire on the statues, focusing on past experience in resisting the warp. A Daemon always lied, whatever it had to say or promise to condemn a man. He focused on this truth, not allowing himself to even consider what the possessed statues were saying. "A daemon only lies until the truth hurts more, Armsman..."
The whispers were insistent, nearly drowning out anything else he could have heard from his surroundings. About all that would pierce the veil of noise was the vox link should it go off. But, no matter what promises, from stealing back the souls lost to the Dark Eldar, restoring his leg, or any powers to prevent any more to be lost to the currents of the Warp, the Armsman kept marching forward. The weight was heavy on his shoulders, guilt gnawing at him as the whispers went from bargaining, soothing, to accusing and damning. He had a job to do, and if he could resist as a green, rookie Armsman so many years ago, there was no way in HELL he was giving in now. His grip on the shotgun tightened to white knuckle, but he kept the barrel firmly pointed at the ground. There was no way it could be taken as menacing, and as much as his instincts screamed shoot them, even that small part of the mind that wanted to yield and agree, he kept marching without a word or even acknowledging their existence. He was mouthing prayers to the Emperor, not a word coming out, and he kept his mind filled with the very same litany, over and over again. The one he intoned before walking into the corridor, attempting to mentally drown out the whispers the best way he could without resorting to violence, and his own mental focus clarified with the reasoning that came with it.
Stukov was no hero or war veteran, just a survivor of extraordinary circumstances. And his sheer, he wouldn't lie, fear of the warp helped prevent any thoughts of taking up the daemons offer's or submitting to their condemnations from taking hold as the prayer looped. He had stared the warp in the eyes, and it haunted him to this day. That haunting fear, the old scars that never healed, the pain of watching so many better men and women, from fellow armsman cut down like so many weeds to the Navigator as he was ripped to shreds by raw warp power, that took over in time with the praying. Each word hurt, and it kept him focused now, and while some would focus on rage, pride, or purity, Stukov was not that kind of man. The pain and fear of what the warp would REALLY do to him kept him going long after any will to disobey Boss would have faded, and while he wanted to bolt and just escape like nothing else, he kept going. Emperor willing it would all end before he knew it, and would be out of this DAMNED corridor.