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Eisenhorn male Member

Inquisitor of some Note

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In Warhammer 40k: Enigmas of the Warp → 6 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Stukov kept himself quiet, observing the man while continuing to run through his mental knowledge of the varying medals and uniform that the man was wearing. There were other negotiations and discussions going on, but the armsman kept his silence until it was time to depart, falling in step alongside the Celestian. She seemed certain he was no heretic, at least for now, and while he lacked the insight into others that she seemed to have, he would take her word for it for now. Which also meant keeping his peace, though the warning on the fact the safe house was different from most places among the vast Imperium. "Can't say I am surprised you have such a place funded and built up for yourself, and the Inquisition of course."

The armsman kept his peace otherwise, riding the shuttle and mostly resting. He may not have been a Guardsman, but he certainly adopted the approach that many of their veterans had of resting damn near anytime they had the opportunity to. Be it in a shuttle, transport, or otherwise having no control over a situation that he could reasonably exert. Of course, some could poke fun at him being the 'old man' of the group sleeping all the time, but constant time spent in warp transit had that effect at times. In time they would touch down at the safehouse, noting that they had traveled a fair distance to get here by how long they had remained airborne. It was...quite unlike anything the armsman could put to words or describe, very much an anomaly in the Imperial approach to construction and building. Maybe it was a style sufficiently rich planet dwellers favored when space was not at a premium?

"No wonder you saw fit to give us a warning..." It was all very strange, design wise, and he wasn't entirely sure whether he approved or not. Not that it mattered, mind, but it was still a consideration as they went through a decontamination type chamber and into the safehouse proper. Rather large and sprawling, the design continuing to prove to be very foreign to him, and not just because it was needlessly fancy and expensive looking to maintain. Not that such things mattered to the Inquisition, they simply made things happen as they saw fit, for better or worse. Either way the place seemed right up the alley, comfort wise, for damn near any nobility or high end agents that would be using the place. Not his cup of tea, mind, he preferred his quarters a bit more utilitarian, but he wasn't going to turn his nose up at any of it. Especially since this was their berthing for the foreseeable future.

Imagine his surprise though, concealed as it was, when a certain someone rounded the corner, and Stukov gave her a casual grin. Well that was a sight for sore eyes, he hadn't seen Aviza in quite a few years. He'd been rotated out to do a lot of work on void operations for the Inquisition, leading teams that were better trained, and nominally equipped, for those kind of unique circumstances. Now that he had been rotated back in, well, of course there was Smiles and now Sis, at least the one that normally got called Sis. "Been keeping myself busy Sis. Not surprised to see your still around causing trouble for anything with the slightest whiff of heretic."

Stukov would follow along with the rest of the retinue as they made their way to the kitchen, cocking an eyebrow at the lunch provided. Nothing like the paste served to the rank and file, even on Inquisitorial vessels. No cost spared in providing in this particular safe house. He wasn't picky, considering the mention of personal taste and preparing drinks. He considered it, there was an acquired taste he had picked up after dealings with Valhallans nearly twenty years ago. "Foods warm, and isn't some sort of recycled paste. That's enough for me, and got any Tanna brewing? Haven't had a good cup of that in years..."
In Warhammer 40k: Enigmas of the Warp → 6 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
"Remember I said after any delimbing incidents, Cogs. Throne willing, that won't be an issue anytime soon." Stukov very much preferred himself intact, he wasn't some fanatical zealot like Celeste, or those dour sodding Kriegsman, or the Cogboys and girls of the Mechanicus in their zealotry for the Omnissiah. Regardless of that, he had to mentally note that Cogs was probably the most unstable out of all of them, and that was saying something. Regardless, the remark on sanctioned terms of his like got a snort of amusement from the armsman. Tunnel rats, maintenance roaches, plenty of terms one could call those who were more familiar with tight, enclosed spaces than broad, open skies. Reminded him that he'd never be totally comfortable with boots on the literal ground, but that was a bridge to burn once they reached it, should it need burned.

"That's probably the most diplomatic term I've heard in quite some time, Smiles, though flattery will get you no where. Well, nowhere terribly interesting." Smirking to himself, Stukov considered the response to the array of trouble. Tzeentch wasn't one he had much dealings with, not to his knowledge at any rate. Khornate and Slaaneshi cultists and daemons were the ones he'd run afoul of before in his rather...turbulent career. Still, nothing a judicious application of force couldn't sort out once tracked down, though Khornate would have been by and far the most simplistic and easy to deal with. Meanwhile the Kid was having his own shock at meeting Smiles. Not too surprising, given her...unique stature, but as the Armsman was settling into a seat, roughly even distance between the Kid and Cogs, he chimed in after Celeste remarked on Khornate being boring.

"Good thing I don't knowingly take bets I'll lose, then. And I wouldn't call Bloodthirsters ripping through a bulkhead 'boring' by any stretch Celeste. Still, daemons are daemons, and those stupid enough to side with them need sorted out just the same." Stukov closed his eyes, seeming to relax and enjoy the trip in the transport, mentally bracing himself for the trouble to come planetside. He could feel their entry into atmosphere, subtle little things that larger ships would never experience. Well, not under any normal circumstances, and as the vessel settled down he kept resting his eyes, nothing he did would have any impact currently. The sound of additional engines, distinct to those of the transport, coming near before fading had the armsman opening his eyes again. Thunderbolts, he knew those engines anywhere. They weren't proper Fury interceptors, but he had to give begrudging credit. When it came to atmospheric operation, he'd prefer Thunderbolts holding the skies over the Lightnings any day of the week.

"Standard low count escort patterns usually put them behind the escortee. Nominally, this is to be able to either peel off or launch forward to intercept trouble. Of course, its also a prime place to be if the escort needs an unfortunate accident to occur. Unfortunately they aren't Lightnings, you could almost ignore them with the right atmospheric craft." Stukov spent enough of his life on Imperial Naval vessels to know his stuff when it came to commonly employed craft, and he'd brushed up on stuff that hadn't been available to him after his formal assignment to a retinue. He was no officer, mind, but knowing a Thunderbolt from a Lightning, from a Fury, was always useful. It gave him something else to consider as they diverted and touched down to deal with this Planetary Governor. Celeste was all business now, and Stukov was on his feet, smirk fading to his usual resting neutral expression. The Kid got a dressing down, which Stukov suppressed a chuckle at. Time and place for everything, he could rib the Kid later for that.

Following Celeste out of the transport, Stukov made a quick mental headcount of the well armed 'escort' present. Outnumbered, though he couldn't say outgunned given the nasty tricks they had, but the show of force was duly noted. Not as a concern, but what to expect should the Planetary Governor indeed prove corrupt, and his subordinates equally so. In due time they were admitted to the Governor's quarters, and Stukov found himself scanning the man intently. Armored, though it was of foreign make and model to him, and festooned with medals and commendations. Either had actually spent some time in service, or wanted to make a show of it. Still, the man was abnormally tall, which was discreet until he, of course, stood up and began babbling. Quarters were offered, lavish nonsense, and fortunately Celeste turned him down. She'd already arranged that, thank the Throne, and Stukov found himself reminded why senior officers and officials were avoided. Still, the question posed got a curt shake of the head.

"None here, the sooner we root out the heretic, the sooner they can be put to the torch." Stukov could have come up with various questions, mind, but he was focused on analyzing the varied medals and insignia on the armor, as well as the armor itself, seeing if he couldn't drudge up any sort of recollection of any of it. Asking after the man's 'glory days' would not have had any direct impact, perhaps he could do some digging later through records on the man, should they have time to do so. The attitude was, well, not surprising but not welcome, and he doubted this world was all that wonderful. That, however, would remain to be seen.
In Warhammer 40k: Enigmas of the Warp → 6 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Stukov had gotten used to Smiles and her manner of simply warping into places, as was her method arrival and moving around the place. He'd wonder how much that grated on the Navigator, but he typically left the mutant to his own devices. He had a job to do, and an armsman pestering him wouldn't do that any favors at all. Still, he gave the psyker a nod and a smirk as she commented on his apparent ability to arrive promptly before anyone else in the retinue typically. Producing the data slate and waggling it briefly, he made a deadpan remark and letting it hang just long enough to sound serious before shaking his head. He had no means of teleporting, and probably didn't want any either, he'd spent enough time in the warp to last him several lifetimes. "Teleportation, rigged to key locations. Joking, let's just say there probably isn't too many other people who could traverse this ship conventionally as fast as I can. Experience has its perks Smiles."

Returning the data-slate to his coat, Stukov noted as the tech priestess wandered in. She was trouble, he figured, you didn't see her kind wandering all on their own very often, least from what he'd heard and seen. Still, she was part of the retinue, and as she babbled on about being prank victims and asking after their 'advantageous statistical probabilities' and the idea of emergency modifications. Nah, he was mostly intact, last thing he needed was to willingly go lopping off limbs and body parts for augmentations of dubious origins. So watching her wander in, he chimed in idly to her remarks and considered the situation, was polite enough by most accounts. "Alive and well enough Cogs, I'll pass on the modifications. Save those for when something nasty enough to get a limb or three off me manages to do just that. Then we can talk modifications."

Celeste chimed back in, seemed since they were all here, they were ready to go. Looking back as a younger kid came up, stating that he was a scribe and was assigned to the retinue. Since when? And Celeste didn't go asking either? That was strange, one could almost consider concerning given that sort of last minute change was somewhat unusual. Still, he gave the kid a look over. Typical inquisitorial style coat, free of ornamentation fortunately, ceramite of some sort underneath, least he wasn't going to get perforated by a stiff breeze. Fancy looking sword on the hip, wonder if he knew his way around that kind of weapon or not. Regardless, seems he got stuck with this more than volunteered if he had to hazard the guess. "Welcome to the club, Kid. Keep your head down, and nerves steady, and you'll be alright. Eh, probably. Maybe. Nah, definitely probably. Throne willing."

Shrugging, mostly to himself, the armsman turned to follow the rest of the retinue into Celeste's personal little toy. He could make all sorts of jokes about that, really, but he saved those for another time. Settling into a seat and locking in, he seemed fairly comfortable hurtling through space, more comfortable than he would be on the ground to be quite frank. Still, he listened again as Celeste ran through the mission brief again. Local governor sent a call for help to the Inquisition, which still set off all sorts of red flags. Most sane folk don't go calling to the Inquisition for help, though he kept that to himself until at least the re-brief was done. Slaaneshi or Tzeentch forces, possibly working together. He wasn't sure which he hated more, though it didn't matter in the grand scheme of things. Both needed forcefully and thoroughly ground back into the warp, the more stunning their failures the better. Still, as the simple and brief, well, briefing wrapped up and the option for questions was given, Stukov chimed in.

"How much is the betting pool at that this 'Nickoli' is as corrupt as the rest, just not as bright and trying to make a name for himself? That aside, if things are that deeply corrupt, not sure I'd consider our informant, high up as he is, to be even remotely reliable, Throne forbid trustworthy. As for discreet, well, least we're subtler than an Astartes kill team." Smiles was...not what anyone would consider discreet, in form and function, and he doubted Cogs was much better, given her name for the others, himself included, was Prank Victim number. As for the Kid, well, at least he looked unassuming for the most part, but that didn't mean a thing in this line of work. He could pass as a merc or a body guard easily enough, the coat and non standard armor worked wonders there. Still, they'd no doubt see how long discreet lasted before things broke down into an open war.
In Warhammer 40k: Enigmas of the Warp → 6 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Alexei Stukov was doing rounds on the Black Ship, mostly to ease his own nerves. Warp Travel didn't sit too well with him any more, though he didn't speak on that matter much. So he did the rounds, patrolling even though he was under no obligation to, assisting the voidsmen assigned to the ship with his experience and extra hands, keeping himself busy whenever he wasn't tasked with formal duties as part of the Celestian's retinue. He was pretty much waiting for the call to arms, as it were, as they had to be approaching their destination soon. He doubted they would just careen the Black Ship right into view of anyone who would want to know the Inquisition had arrived, and sure enough, his waiting would be rewarded as the microbead buzzed and the Celestian's orders came over the comm. Finally, even though that meant he had to go have his feet on solid ground again, something he liked even less.

Turning on heel, Stukov took off at a brisk stride, stopping by his quarters on the way towards the named hanger bay. Entering, he grabbed his shotgun and stuffed his pockets with as much ammo as he could carry, including a pocket on the inside of his coat for the specialized ammo he carried. Never knew when you'd have some warp spawned horror barreling down on you and some Emperor blessed munitions wouldn't hurt to keep on hand. Along with some slugs, he could always requisition more specific munitions if the need arose. Checking his belt, the Chain-Cutlass rested securely, a familiar weight, and checking ensured his Naval pistol was in the holster under his left arm. Spare mags for that as well, and the grenades on his belt, also concealed by the great coat he was wearing. Making sure his other tools, data slate, grapnel launcher, and re-breather, were all in their places, he exited his quarters, locking them on the way out.

It wouldn't take him too long to reach the hanger bay, and he passed the cog boys who were leaving, probably finished up whatever Morgenstern had cooked up for them. If the Black Ship was impressive, and it was, that gun cutter of hers was even more specialized. It'd be a lot of lost resources if it got lost or shot down, but if he had to choose any small craft to get to the surface in, well, he could do a damn sight worse than that. He offered a brief nod to the Celestian as he approached, hands in his pockets as he found himself a spot to keep an eye on the doorway in while still mostly facing Morgenstern. "Got the call Celeste, have my kit sorted and ready to go stomping around on the surface chasing what's got your ire this time."

Stukov had changed his kit after assignment to the retinue, mostly in terms of coloration. The greatcoat and mix of carapace and flak were the biggest signs of that, the coloration nothing like a Voidsman would really prefer anymore, mostly picked for personal preferences at this point. Shotgun slung over his shoulder, chain-cutlass on his hip, and other toys hidden out of sight, the senior armsman was ready and able for the mission that Morgenstern had in mind. He also referred to her by one of two nicknames for her, and the less confusing of the two for those not familiar with his dealings with others, and beyond that he kept an eye on the entryway, listening to Morgenstern while keeping an eye out for the next folks to come answering the call.
In Warhammer 40k: Enigmas of the Warp → 6 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
In Warhammer 40k: Enigmas of the Warp → 6 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Alright, here's Stukov, cleaned up and revised and all the hair brained stuff retconned for review.

In Warhammer 40k: Enigmas of the Warp → 6 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
And I'll have mine put together over the next few days, when I have time after work.
In Veritas Lux Mea → 6 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Ansgar Staudinger


"Medical attention? You've got dead and dying on your tables, worry about them first. Triage ain't a word for your kind?" Any electrical damage that had gotten through his protective clothing, possibly concussive as well given the explosions he'd been near recently, paled in comparison to the condition of those who actually needed help in here. That was his way of saying no, he wasn't submitting to medical fiddling until pretty much directly ordered to. Of course, things always could get worse as the fookin' tin man decided to show up right then and there and start mouthing off about not having any actual tin inside him. Wisely, the deadpan death glare that the man was giving the machine right now ceased that line of talking. He was distracted by Kev declaring that it was time for him to leave and go clean up his mess. His expression softened slightly, from completely pissed to moderately irritated, when the man joking addressed him.

"You'll forgive me for not being in a joking mood, if any of those pirates are alive and I get my hands on them, I have every intent of beating them unconscious for every hour of work it takes fixing this ship. I won't have bastarding no lifes putting holes in m...our ship. I'll need a lot of drugs for that, to keep them alive, Doc. Also nothing for me, I have real work to do." There wasn't a joking tone in Ansgar's tone of voice right now, he was deathly serious that, he ever gets his hands on the pirates who attacked them, they'd be praying for a Judge to simply execute them. Having addressed the empty, hanging statement, he was paused by the Captain chiding him on being nice and reminding him that the tool mooching pink Ithlo was, apparently, going to fly them to the port. Well, he prayed to whatever God came through with them that that would at least go well.

Imagine his shock when, of all people, Teg revived and was all but swarmed by both the captain and doc. The man stared and shook his head in low disbelief. Able to revive the dead, apparently, what a universe they found themselves in. "How about you get Teg a drink instead of swamping her after coming back from Mr. Grim's parlor? I'd offer something of my own stash, but....Oh. IF THOSE FUCKERS BROKE MY STASH, I SWEAR I WILL PERSONALLY HUNT THEM DOWN."

The suddenly royally irate mechanic bolted from the med bay, storming down the way towards the engine room, having seethed through gritted teeth and stormed into the engine room, all but radiating pure rage. He stomped back to a corner, grabbing a fallen plate that, well, should have been lifted using mechanical assistance to avoid possible personal injury, and with a groan it was hauled up and slammed to the side. After some digging and more cursing, he produced an undamaged bottle and sighed in relief before stashing it away and spinning on heel, grabbing his tools again and glaring at the pink Ithlo for a few moments.

"Don't go fiddling with stuff outside that control panel, I won't have you shorting something out from not understanding the design layout." Despite the rather abruptness of the statement, anyone with a lick of social skills could see he was at least making the vague attempt to reign in his temper and general irritation when addressing Perse. He then, while the engines were going full blast, started clambering up into the guts of the engine itself, without the slightest regard for what was considered common safety practice to, well, shut down an engine or at least have it idling before crawling in to begin inspecting and applying repairs. But not Ansgar, oh no, he couldn't leave well enough alone even if it tried to bribe him.
In The Emperor's Duty: A Warhammer 40K RP → 6 yrs ago Forum: Advanced Roleplay
Clad in the colors that they were, it was still unforgivable for any sort of individual to miss the fact that the Skitarii were moving through the hive streets at their untiring, unyielding pace. RT-A-221 picked up the crowd on the omnispex, before the burst transmission from the Foundry-Foreman was received by the Magos. Normally, mere humans would have to pause and hold a conversation, however, blessed augmentations allowed them to converse in the span of what it would take others to even inhale to prepare to respond in kind.

"Cordial Reply. Situation noted. Investigation will be processed during siege breaking." The Magos was clipped and precise, even for the unfathomably fast method of communication that the Mechanicus employed when communicating among each other. The hive was to be purged, and these unaugmented humanoids certainly would not be loyalists of any sort. RT-A-221 employed the omnispex again to sweep the crowd, picking out any high value targets, be it weapons of note, figures of apparent authority among the crowd, identifying markings or other general information, being logged and processed for gathering intelligence and further computing an ideal route forward. The mob of unaugmented hivers would be a hindrance to the ultimate objective regardless, so they would necessitate removal.

Nominal firing patterns were uploaded and applied to the targeting of each Skitarii Alpha. Cognis Flamer would be utilized to prevent any from getting too close, Rotary Cannon would be applied to rapid numbers depletion, Volkite Caliver reserved for any potentially unusual targets. Galvanic Carbines would provide steady fire to prevent any gaps in the screen, and positions were taken up, all plotted out and ideal for the situation. Not a word or overt sound was made by the Skitarii Alphas, taking position and waiting patiently, unmovingly, for the kill command. The moment the Magos issued the command, the Ranger Alphas would open fire in perfect unison, Galvanic Carbines hammering in volley after volley in unison, Rotary Cannon roaring to life, under precise control of its augmented wielder, whilst the Cognis Flamer and Volkite Caliver remained ready, the former for any foolish enough to close into reach of the flames, the latter for anything noteworthy that necessitated specialized focus. RT-A-221 and the Magos, both wielding Phosphor weapons, also scanned for targets requiring illumination and priority targeting, should any such things exist.
In Veritas Lux Mea → 6 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
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