Fire Emblem, how could I say no? And it is certainly good to cross paths with you again, Apollo.
Eisenhorn
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Most Recent Posts
Right now, Stukov decided, there was far too much going on for having just effectively hopped off an operating table and rode over here. Sis was bombarding him with info, then Boss waltzes in and the medical Sororitas was going a mile a minute. Coupled with Smiles teleporting, and the sharp increase in grating noise in his head that it generated, a low level of painful feedback kicked in, and he suppressed a pained expression while trying to keep up with everything that had gone on. Some sort of high form party, far above his paygrade (very much like most of this pleasure world had proven to be), and probably requiring some uncomfortable variety of formal wear. Great, and here he thought he could avoid doing that? Before anything else, he turned to Boss and reported, the mechanical tones in his voice breaking up the neutral tone he had before, giving him an odd sort of accent now. "Morning Boss, medicae center got the damage repaired, or replaced what they couldn't fix. Vocal cords included. If I might request, don't put me in any sort of formal wear. The augmatic leg tends to stand out rather sorely. Some fancy place like that would expect fancy replacement parts. Not my brand of repair work, I'm afraid."
Stukov had replaced his breastplate and, as some form of good will gesture from the Sisters, he had a more complete set of Carapace now, including greaves and bracers as well as a more well built breastplate. No helmet still, rebreather hanging around his neck whenever it wasn't in place, and the Galvanic Rifle looped over his shoulder in a carry position. The coat concealed his Naval pistol, which somehow was not only still on him but undamaged, which the Armsman was relieved about. Overtly, very little stood out about his treatments as most of it was internal. His leg needed rewired, apparently something had surged and damaged the connection between replacement limb and flesh. It was still the rather crude twin pieces of metal and a boot like ending, but the Armsman refused anything fancy or elegant. He had put kicks through far tougher material than one would normally consider with that foot, and he wasn't going to pass it up for some fancy thing that fell apart under the slightest level of stress. All the work done was functional over aesthetically pleasing, so it might certainly dehumanize him in the eyes of some, but if it meant still doing his job, perhaps even better than before, all the better for him then, right?
Smiles teleporting created a rather interesting effect in his mind, the residual energy from the move setting off what felt like an ice shard jammed into his brain, numb and painful at the same time. So he only caught bits and pieces of what the medical sister said about food and cooking, barely suppressing the urge to allow a pained expression to bleed through onto his face. Instead he made a beeline for the stairs, making an offhand comment as he walked away, sounding more distant as an subconscious driven aura of cold seemed to form around the Armsman. "Not hungry. Appreciate the gesture though. Sound an alarm if you need me, Boss." Stukov quickly found a room as far away from the rest of the retinue as possible, as far as he was able to tell at any rate from the state of occupancy found by the others. Place was too fancy, too nice, for his tastes. Seems he had found a servants quarters of some sort or another. Far more spartan, utilitarian, and didn't have all the needless fancy garbage. Unslinging his rifle and setting it against the wall before throwing his coat onto a wall hook, he all but collapsed into a chair in front of a bare desk, burying his head into his hands. He was scowling, a low hiss emitting from his throat as he held his head, pushing away the pain and noise through brute force. It was not efficient or effective, really, so it was hard to consider it being any sort of long term solution.
The man was unsure if he had been truthful about not being hungry or not, Stukov knew he hadn't eaten since well before the foundry, but he didn't feel any sense of hunger. Shock, maybe? Not good if it was, he thought grimly, shock would make him far less useful or effective in a combat scenario. Looking up from the desk, and his hands, at the mirror, a thin layer of hoarfrost had formed, and the room felt frigid, well below freezing. No one outside the room, even if they leaned on the door, would notice the temperature shift, but it wasn't the temperature that caught him off guard. It was the feint sapphire glow in his eyes, the ones looking back at him from the mirror, and with a growl his fist slammed into the mirror, thoroughly shattering it and cutting his hand up something fierce. Breathing hard, he withdrew his hand from the now destroyed mirror, the temperature warming up some but still well below the norm for the given area. He needed sleep, food probably, but he was going nowhere right now. Binding his hand, he stood up and crashed on the bed, grunting from the impact. He couldn't sleep, but he stared at the ceiling anyways, avoiding the questions that part of him wanted to ask. Something residual from such a heavily warp infested place was haunting him, he would have to seek out a priest's aid before subjecting himself to that again. That was what he told himself, at any rate, the image of his face, sapphire energy burning in them, refusing to remove itself from his mind, lurking at the back at best.
Stukov had replaced his breastplate and, as some form of good will gesture from the Sisters, he had a more complete set of Carapace now, including greaves and bracers as well as a more well built breastplate. No helmet still, rebreather hanging around his neck whenever it wasn't in place, and the Galvanic Rifle looped over his shoulder in a carry position. The coat concealed his Naval pistol, which somehow was not only still on him but undamaged, which the Armsman was relieved about. Overtly, very little stood out about his treatments as most of it was internal. His leg needed rewired, apparently something had surged and damaged the connection between replacement limb and flesh. It was still the rather crude twin pieces of metal and a boot like ending, but the Armsman refused anything fancy or elegant. He had put kicks through far tougher material than one would normally consider with that foot, and he wasn't going to pass it up for some fancy thing that fell apart under the slightest level of stress. All the work done was functional over aesthetically pleasing, so it might certainly dehumanize him in the eyes of some, but if it meant still doing his job, perhaps even better than before, all the better for him then, right?
Smiles teleporting created a rather interesting effect in his mind, the residual energy from the move setting off what felt like an ice shard jammed into his brain, numb and painful at the same time. So he only caught bits and pieces of what the medical sister said about food and cooking, barely suppressing the urge to allow a pained expression to bleed through onto his face. Instead he made a beeline for the stairs, making an offhand comment as he walked away, sounding more distant as an subconscious driven aura of cold seemed to form around the Armsman. "Not hungry. Appreciate the gesture though. Sound an alarm if you need me, Boss." Stukov quickly found a room as far away from the rest of the retinue as possible, as far as he was able to tell at any rate from the state of occupancy found by the others. Place was too fancy, too nice, for his tastes. Seems he had found a servants quarters of some sort or another. Far more spartan, utilitarian, and didn't have all the needless fancy garbage. Unslinging his rifle and setting it against the wall before throwing his coat onto a wall hook, he all but collapsed into a chair in front of a bare desk, burying his head into his hands. He was scowling, a low hiss emitting from his throat as he held his head, pushing away the pain and noise through brute force. It was not efficient or effective, really, so it was hard to consider it being any sort of long term solution.
The man was unsure if he had been truthful about not being hungry or not, Stukov knew he hadn't eaten since well before the foundry, but he didn't feel any sense of hunger. Shock, maybe? Not good if it was, he thought grimly, shock would make him far less useful or effective in a combat scenario. Looking up from the desk, and his hands, at the mirror, a thin layer of hoarfrost had formed, and the room felt frigid, well below freezing. No one outside the room, even if they leaned on the door, would notice the temperature shift, but it wasn't the temperature that caught him off guard. It was the feint sapphire glow in his eyes, the ones looking back at him from the mirror, and with a growl his fist slammed into the mirror, thoroughly shattering it and cutting his hand up something fierce. Breathing hard, he withdrew his hand from the now destroyed mirror, the temperature warming up some but still well below the norm for the given area. He needed sleep, food probably, but he was going nowhere right now. Binding his hand, he stood up and crashed on the bed, grunting from the impact. He couldn't sleep, but he stared at the ceiling anyways, avoiding the questions that part of him wanted to ask. Something residual from such a heavily warp infested place was haunting him, he would have to seek out a priest's aid before subjecting himself to that again. That was what he told himself, at any rate, the image of his face, sapphire energy burning in them, refusing to remove itself from his mind, lurking at the back at best.
<Snipped quote by Andromedai>
You know what would break the silence?
A post from you xD
You know what would be better then that? A post from me xD
Speaking of, sorry for the delay, in the midst of moving, I will try to have on up tonight though.
Stukov had, alas, not been resting nearly as comfortably as the rest of the retinue had during their treatment. Upon being escorted to transport the armsman had collapsed fully, no longer running on adrenaline and sheer determination coupled with a feverish obsession with his job. It was at that point that he had flatlined for the first of quite a few times which, if it were not for the timely intervention of the escorting and attending medical personnel, would have been his end. On some world far from where he was comfortable, let alone what could be considered home. But he would not die walking out of that Emperor forsaken place, and he was hauled off to the largest medicae facility the Sisters maintained, noting the importance of an Inquisitorial acolyte, or presumed as such since his formal standing with Zhevon had never been clearly defined. Upon casual examination during the trip, it seemed that he had merely undergone blunt force trauma and complete evisceration of his vocal cords. The latter would only be repairable via bionic augmentation, and the implants were on standby upon arrival at the medicae facility. However, once under more formal investigation, it was apparent more invasive bionic replacements and medical treatments would be necessary to restore him to functioning order. With local tech priests preparing the bionics, a more thorough list of issues and problems to be mended were made.
Despite numerous blood leaks from his head, no overt augmatics were required besides reinforcement to his skull do to numerous blunt impacts and spiderweb fractures along his skull. It was considered a miracle his skull hadn't caved in prior to that, unaware of the possible alternatives as to how he was still effectively in one piece. But the bionics were put in place, reinforcing his skull from the damage sustained by it as they registered that large portions of his skeletal structure were fractured or outright broken and they were set and, as necessary, replaced as well as several internal organs, including lungs as one was collapsed and the other barely functioning still. The surgery itself took quite a long period of time before the armsman was allowed to even awake and be informed as to what happened. Needless to say, his vocal augmentations were temporarily shut off to properly explain what was going on after they sedated him again, the armsman panicking due to the fact that he, last he remembered, was still in a hostile environment with allies, not in a medicae facility being repaired.
Once it was properly explained what was going on, Stukov calmed down and underwent the remainder of his surgery in cooperative peace, lost in thought when he was still allowed to be awake. He couldn't fathom what had been going on, not in its entirety, back at the factory works they had stormed, but in due time the Armsman was discharged from the medicae facility, in one piece again and finally not in some degree of pain. Several Sisters of Battle and a Rhino were waiting for him as he marched up the walkway and the vehicle tore off for parts unknown. While on the way to the safehouse he was briefed on what was going on, in the form of a dataslate, and by the time he had arrived at the Safehouse, he was effectively up to speed as he was marched into a lift and sent up to the safehouse proper. It was not a long ride, either a fast elevator or the building had not been nearly as tall as he had imagined before reaching the safehouse itself, walking in just in time to hear Sis calling for both him and Smiles. He caught what she said and a smirk was on his face as he spoke, having been moving quietly before that point.
"Not words I expected out of a Sister of Battle's mouth, anything being considered good enough for the Emperor in mortal terms." The armsman paused, surprised by the inhuman, mechanical tone his voice now carried due to the mechanical bionics that now replaced his vocal cords, and would be obvious to the rest of the retinue as well. Well, long as he could yell and make himself heard, that was all that really mattered. A bunch of the bionic work that had been done and, afterwords, explained to him certainly upped his odds for survival in most cases. Lot less to go wrong from biology failing, that much had been made clear by the tech priest explaining the installed parts. But, leave it to the Armsman to not just say hello or greet them, but be snarky. He had lost most of his patience at this point, and some semblence of R&R was quite necessary at this point. That, and this residual pressure and weight sat on him, giving him a constant, throbbing headache while a previously unheard background noise was now constantly buzzing. Unable to filter it out, he was forced to deal with it, making him far more irritable and less friendly then usual. Which wasn't necessarily saying a lot for the man, but it was notable to most.
"Everyone made it back in one piece, I hope?" He could see both Sis and Smiles, but he had yet to lay his eyes on Boss yet. Stukov highly doubted anything happened to the Inquisitor, but things would certainly be going to shit if something had after he had collapsed and passed out. He couldn't help but think back to what had happened at the factory, and lied to himself thinking it was just the interference of the warp there, and nothing more. It would take another member of the retinue to convince him otherwise, at this point.
Despite numerous blood leaks from his head, no overt augmatics were required besides reinforcement to his skull do to numerous blunt impacts and spiderweb fractures along his skull. It was considered a miracle his skull hadn't caved in prior to that, unaware of the possible alternatives as to how he was still effectively in one piece. But the bionics were put in place, reinforcing his skull from the damage sustained by it as they registered that large portions of his skeletal structure were fractured or outright broken and they were set and, as necessary, replaced as well as several internal organs, including lungs as one was collapsed and the other barely functioning still. The surgery itself took quite a long period of time before the armsman was allowed to even awake and be informed as to what happened. Needless to say, his vocal augmentations were temporarily shut off to properly explain what was going on after they sedated him again, the armsman panicking due to the fact that he, last he remembered, was still in a hostile environment with allies, not in a medicae facility being repaired.
Once it was properly explained what was going on, Stukov calmed down and underwent the remainder of his surgery in cooperative peace, lost in thought when he was still allowed to be awake. He couldn't fathom what had been going on, not in its entirety, back at the factory works they had stormed, but in due time the Armsman was discharged from the medicae facility, in one piece again and finally not in some degree of pain. Several Sisters of Battle and a Rhino were waiting for him as he marched up the walkway and the vehicle tore off for parts unknown. While on the way to the safehouse he was briefed on what was going on, in the form of a dataslate, and by the time he had arrived at the Safehouse, he was effectively up to speed as he was marched into a lift and sent up to the safehouse proper. It was not a long ride, either a fast elevator or the building had not been nearly as tall as he had imagined before reaching the safehouse itself, walking in just in time to hear Sis calling for both him and Smiles. He caught what she said and a smirk was on his face as he spoke, having been moving quietly before that point.
"Not words I expected out of a Sister of Battle's mouth, anything being considered good enough for the Emperor in mortal terms." The armsman paused, surprised by the inhuman, mechanical tone his voice now carried due to the mechanical bionics that now replaced his vocal cords, and would be obvious to the rest of the retinue as well. Well, long as he could yell and make himself heard, that was all that really mattered. A bunch of the bionic work that had been done and, afterwords, explained to him certainly upped his odds for survival in most cases. Lot less to go wrong from biology failing, that much had been made clear by the tech priest explaining the installed parts. But, leave it to the Armsman to not just say hello or greet them, but be snarky. He had lost most of his patience at this point, and some semblence of R&R was quite necessary at this point. That, and this residual pressure and weight sat on him, giving him a constant, throbbing headache while a previously unheard background noise was now constantly buzzing. Unable to filter it out, he was forced to deal with it, making him far more irritable and less friendly then usual. Which wasn't necessarily saying a lot for the man, but it was notable to most.
"Everyone made it back in one piece, I hope?" He could see both Sis and Smiles, but he had yet to lay his eyes on Boss yet. Stukov highly doubted anything happened to the Inquisitor, but things would certainly be going to shit if something had after he had collapsed and passed out. He couldn't help but think back to what had happened at the factory, and lied to himself thinking it was just the interference of the warp there, and nothing more. It would take another member of the retinue to convince him otherwise, at this point.
Welp, finally getting my post up, since I am settled into a temporary place to crash for a few weeks before I continue moving.
Well, I am in the process of moving so apologies for a delayed response thus far.
<Snipped quote by Eisenhorn>
We barely managed to kill that one. Would probably have been close to a total party wipe if Stukov had turned into a second daemon unless Zhevon had some trick up his sleeve xD
Yea, and might as well save the TPK for a better time than right at the beginning, relatively speaking.
<Snipped quote by Eisenhorn>
Or worse, he might have done an Astrid ^_^
Hah, entire body exploding into a monstrosity of a daemon? Yea, that is worse than a 'eadbang, that is for sure.
@Skyrte Timeskip sounds like a good plan at this point.
That teeeends to happen with untrained, near uncontrolled use of psyker powers. All things considered, it is fortunate that ol' Stukov did not go the way of the Weirdboy (ala the 'eadbang).
Should probably drop by a medical station on the way to let Stukov get his voice augmentation, seeing as he's currently resigned to communicate purely through hand gestures and various facial expressions, as if he had just starred as the vocalist in half a dozen death metal concerts xD
That teeeends to happen with untrained, near uncontrolled use of psyker powers. All things considered, it is fortunate that ol' Stukov did not go the way of the Weirdboy (ala the 'eadbang).
Stukov was still kneeling on the ground, having managed to inform Boss about the captured heretic leader Maltheus. As soon as he could speak he would continue to inform Boss about what he had discovered down here. The important fact, though, was that the cult leader was in their hands now. His head throbbed painfully, and he could still hear more voices than speakers were present in the room, but he could not say a word about it. Damn warp spawned place like this probably was affecting everyone like he was being affected, unaware that this was most certainly wrong. Only one other person would have noticed but they had training he did not. But he was doing the best to shut out the voices as the two medical Sisters walked over, offering their services to get him out of the room and patched up. He slowly forced himself onto his feet, leaving a fair amount of his own blood on the ground as he stood. Between that last ditch effort by the daemon to sap all their blood, and his own exertions drawing far too much blood from the internal damage, the Armsman was lucky he was still standing. Add in the internal trauma, fractured and probably broken bones, and stress from the exhaustion, it was a miracle in and of itself that the man was able to stand under his own power at all. Far too stubborn for his own good, that much was apparent to the fellow Sisters of Sis's order.
When the cry went out about the Prisoner escaping, he was aware it wasn't Maltheus since he was still securely right here. He tried to run out after the prisoner, but not a half dozen steps did his body finally force him to collapse, dropping to his knees and wheezing, blood and bits of more solid material left on the ground. Boss decided that it was time to get back to a safehouse and recover. He would be detouring to a medical facility to have an augmatic voice box and his injuries bound and set properly. Say what you will about the Inquisition, the Armsman thought, he had heard rather legendary tales of the amount of equipment available to not only extend their lives, but maintain bodies in the primes of their lives. Glancing down at his crude augmatic lower leg, the fighting had torn his trousers enough to reveal that much, he slowly stood up under the firm grasp and care of the two nurses, power armor would ensure he had not tried to run off again as they carefully marched him off for treatment. Boss would have to send coordinates to the Armsman so he could catch up later, after treatment.
When the cry went out about the Prisoner escaping, he was aware it wasn't Maltheus since he was still securely right here. He tried to run out after the prisoner, but not a half dozen steps did his body finally force him to collapse, dropping to his knees and wheezing, blood and bits of more solid material left on the ground. Boss decided that it was time to get back to a safehouse and recover. He would be detouring to a medical facility to have an augmatic voice box and his injuries bound and set properly. Say what you will about the Inquisition, the Armsman thought, he had heard rather legendary tales of the amount of equipment available to not only extend their lives, but maintain bodies in the primes of their lives. Glancing down at his crude augmatic lower leg, the fighting had torn his trousers enough to reveal that much, he slowly stood up under the firm grasp and care of the two nurses, power armor would ensure he had not tried to run off again as they carefully marched him off for treatment. Boss would have to send coordinates to the Armsman so he could catch up later, after treatment.
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