Eisenhorn

Veritas Lux Mea

Ansgar Staudinger

"BASTARDING PIECE OF SHIT!" Ansgar roared as he lobbed another broken piece of electronics at the modest pile of scrap that was currently in the center of the engine room. He'd at least been considerate enough to start the pile, that had of course came from him lobbing a piece of broken machinery in that direction, away from their temporary pilot and navigator. He was digging through the running engines and finding the parts that were completely shot so he could finish putting together a manifesto of parts and replacements he would need, starting from ideal and running down to workable. He didn't expect any of the ideal replacements to be practical, given their recent luck, but a man could dream damn it. At least he was about as far from family as he was going to get in this universe, which was a small mercy at least. The comm buzzed and he caught something about meeting down to prepare for docking. Fuck.

He crawled and disentangled himself from the engine and side stepped the pile, all but storming down to the cargo bay before pausing, he thought, out of sight and taking a deep breath. This was going to be an annoying argument, since no doubt the Lass wanted him to relax and unwind, and that was just not an honest to god option. Steeling himself mentally, he walked down into the cargo bay proper. He still had his protective overalls on, somewhat more singed now than before, and he made a point of unzipping the top, all but drenched in sweat from the work he'd been doing, and tying it off around his waist to at least get a brief breather before returning to the engine room. "Hope this won't take long, Boss, I've almost got the engine room's part list together and then I can start preparing to get invasive systems replaced, including the bridge. That's a lot of work that can't wait, and that's before the replacement parts start arriving."

Warhammer 40k: Enigmas of the Warp

Stukov offered a nod to the rest of the group as they filed in to begin the briefing, and he turned back to focus on the briefing once it began proper. The longer the brief went along, the more trouble he expected this mission to be. Sure, it was probably their best approach since none of those present were exactly going to be, well, able to undertake quiet or subtle operations easily. Crossing his arms, he was about to speak up with Smiles beat him to it, asking if there was backup when it came to rapid response forces. A squad of stormtroopers on standby would be a huge relief should things go poorly, being able to have an escape option is always good.

"Took the words right out of my mouth, Smiles. Having an escape option in terms of backup would be extraordinarily useful. How much resistance are we expecting from these individuals that we're...paying visits to? Element of surprise should be on our side for the first few, but bad news is one of the fastest things in the galaxy. And for heretics? An inquisitorial retinue is some very bad news indeed." What would concern him would be that, should the first of those visited would already be ready for them, that would give away the fact that someone high up in the chain tipped them off that trouble was heading there way. Nothing that couldn't be sorted out with a shotgun, just need the right ammunition. Still, he was waiting to hear the word on any potential backup, as well as the targets in question and their readiness for intrusions.

Warhammer 40k: Enigmas of the Warp

<Snipped quote by Eisenhorn>

A fair point! ;D

I mean, isn't he a pure fighter type character whilst also being one of the weakest members of the group?

@Rithy

I mean, in a group with power armor, mechanicus augmentations, defensive fields and the like, he's just a dude with some halfway solid armor and a shotgun. I'd say he's got luck on his side, but luck only holds for so long!

Warhammer 40k: Enigmas of the Warp

Given Stukov's track record? Probably him. He needs them cybernetics to really start throwing his weight around!

The Emperor's Duty: A Warhammer 40K RP

The conditions of the augmentation among those who bore even junior titles was a sorry thing indeed, however, the Magos did not interfere with the rituals and soothing of machine spirits present, allowing the foundry personnel to handle their operations. Moving down into the depths of the foundry, it was clear that production had been undertaken regardless of orders, altering mission parameters appropriately and noting the subtle details and specifics of the rituals. The lack of proper attire was also noted, though given its a hiveworld foundry and a far cry from the glory of the Omnissiah's explorator fleets, let alone the Forge Worlds themselves, it was likely a byproduct of their resources.

Finally, they reached the most secure depths of the foundry, and the weapons were brought forth for his personal inspection. The subtle clicking and ticking of built in counters would announce what these blessed munitions were before even visual data could be collected and gathered. If such munitions had been known to be here, instead of mere melta munitions, Vanugard forces would have likely been tasked with deployment. Still, the weapons would surpass any dreams the Inquisitor might have had, though she likely would have preferred melta torpedoes instead. It was...unlikely the location being secured could safely store atomics, given the ticking of the counter already, and inspection would commence with such things in mind. He was no Vanguard, but radiation meant little to the Magos who had so little flesh left. "Praise be unto the Omnissiah, such blessed munitions will serve well."

"How soon can the blessed atomics be prepared for relocation? Reports and plans must be made to accommodate these armaments, and what status is your foundry in?" Once sufficient information and time tables could be gathered from the Foreman, the Magos would have to see to contacting the Inquisitor and ensuring she was aware of the new development and resources that had been put at her fortunate disposal. Should the shielded depths of the foundry prevent communications, the Magos would relocate as necessary to inform the Inquisitor of current goings on and status of the foundry mission. The mechanicus forces present had not proven heretical in nature, despite their lack of augmentation, and would prove useful. Doubly so should the foundry be able to remain secure and continue producing munitions and armaments for the Omnissiah.

Warhammer 40k: Enigmas of the Warp

The armsman laughed at the question of whether or not they were being fattened up before being thrown to the wolves. Oh no, if they were being treated well before suicide, they'd have broken out the liquor. You didn't waste expensive food on grunts, liquor was cheap and the rank and file wouldn't know the good shit from what got them drunk, for the most part. Some regiments that came from jumped up nobility might know, but they were the relative minority, far as he was concerned. "We're fine Kid. It's when they break out the strong booze that you should start worrying. Good food? You'll be fine, hell, that's a reward if anything else."

Stukov had laughed, but he was honest in his words all the same. Kid needed an eye kept on, but at least he wasn't maladjusted or otherwise unable to work with others, he suspected whatever had caused that little dressing down that Celeste had given was, well, an anomaly rather than a standard. Well, he hoped that was the case at least, he would save his prayers for more dire straits. Another relative unknown, though a far more dependable one from profession alone, had offered him a nod when setting up to work on his kit. The armsman returned the nod politely, not having much to discuss given the fellow had been relatively silent during the tour and such leading up to now. Guard kit, looked like a pressure helmet was kept on hand, probably Guard that deployed from Valkyries and the like. Good men, those, finding folk who could stomach deploying like that were rare, and he'd have to keep half an eye on Icarus there to make sure he didn't end up dead too fast. "Good to see someone else cares about keeping their kit in order. Sound off if you need to borrow any tools I ain't using."

In due time, as he finished maintenance and fine tuning his kit, the alert came to report for duty. Stukov nodded to the Guardsman, assembling his kit and slinging it before making his way to the meeting point. The Kid had beat him here, that was surprising, while Celeste and Sis had also been here already. Those two were less surprising, mind, but he gave the Kid a joking tone as he remarked on him. "Beat me here Kid, good on you. Always was faster on voidships, though. Alright Celeste, once our merry band of misfits has formed up, what're we looking to do? Kick some doors down, hopefully nothing subtle, Throne willing. I don't think our skills lend themselves well to subtle."

Warhammer 40k: Enigmas of the Warp

Stukov took the good natured ribbing over his preferred brand of suffering, as they called it, in stride. Let them lack the taste for something a bit finer in life. Bold thoughts for an armsman, of course, but he wasn't going to argue the fact the drink was strong at the best of times. Brewed poorly, and one could all but strip paint with it. Fortunately it was brewed well, and wouldn't take the lining of his throat with it as he drank. Having finished his food, he casually nursed and took his time while the discussion on this place, in response to his own question, was made. A stronghold should the planet be assaulted, from within or without, and of course a rare monument to the activites and glories, indirect as it may be, of Celeste's accomplishments. He'd not say that out loud, of course, but he finished his drink in a timely manner, sighing quietly in a rare content. Smiles and Cogs got up to discuss Throne knows what, and he glanced at the Kid. "You've been quiet, Kid. Relatively speaking, what's rattling in that head of yours?"

The Kid was an unknown, literally and figuratively. Sure he carried fancy kit, but that wasn't any promise that he knew how to use it. Cogs might have written him off as another Prank Victim, and Throne knows what Smiles thought, he didn't pretend to, but he didn't like unknowns. No sense being a prick about it though, might as well offer him a chance to speak up. He'd spent enough fights being the odd one out, a mad bastard with a shotgun surrounded by faceless Inquisitors, seasoned veterans, irate Bolter Bitches, obscenely powerful psykers, and that was just to name a few. Kid was probably going to need an eye kept on so he didn't get his head removed not so neatly from its neck. He'd rather know he can't rely on the Kid than have it come up as a rude shock, if he was lucky the Kid might be salvageable. Sure, he'd gotten a dressing down from Celeste, but he'd butted heads with her before as well. And now she was in charge. Such was life in the Imperium.

Celeste decided it was time for them to go on the grand tour now, and Stukov offered a nod to Sis as he stood up and made sure his kit was slung properly. Moving in step with Celeste, he quietly considered what she said as they moved. It reeked of Rogue Trader tastes, near as it was to his encounters to compare to. Moving down a corridor of artwork, of varying...interest, and he couldn't help but make an offhand remark, directed at no one in particular. "Long as you aren't keeping a corridor of statues, I won't have any comments to make..."

Smiles probably would remember that one, but Stukov didn't elaborate for anyone who didn't. Striding along into the medical wing, another Bolter Bitch was working the place. It wasn't surprising, mind, but he still was going to make a mental note of it. Drawing from old postings was smart, it ensured loyalty, doubly so beyond the whole Inquisitorial authority business. Still, given the fact she'd be the one stitching them up when the injuries began mounting, no sense being rude. Of course, not rude by Stukov's means was, well, still nicknames and offhand commentary. "Honor indeed, Sawbones. I'll try and keep the internal lacerations to a minimum after nasty brawls."

The tour continued, and Stukov made mental notes of each location. A swing by the armory would be in order, he wanted to grab a mono knife to serve as a last ditch backup weapon, do some digging to see if any other toys stuck out to him before heading for the engineering bay to do routine maintenance on his kit. The shotgun was going to be the quick one, and if the opportunity arose, he would have to see what Cogs could do to make it hit harder. He wasn't quite as, what was the word, twitchy over 'inventive' modifications. But that would have to wait, no doubt Smiles roped her into some madness or another. The last thing to be shown was a swimming pool, which was apparently just for show. He...didn't know how to swim, it wasn't something an armsman really needed to know. Sure, he could probably figure it out if it was swim or drown, but that wasn't something he was going to engage in for his own amusement. Booze served that well enough.

"We'll see how long that lasts, knowing our luck. Right, have fun you lot, I'm flagging a room for myself, doing an inventory of the armory, then going to put some elbow grease into my kit in engineering. Make sure its all shiny and good to go, you know where to find me." Stukov would first make his way to the Armory, true to his word, finding himself a mono knife to strap to his boot, buckling it in place and giving it a few experimental weighs and basic motions. It would do nicely for a 'Fuck me' moment. He then took some time to inventory the armory, doing a count of what was around and available just in case he was in a hurry coming through here at some point. Next was flagging the least gaudy room available, not that he suspected there was much difference, and then he was off to engineering. He'd find himself a bench to start field stripping and working on his shotgun, and over the next remaining two and change hours would be other weapons and such, chain-cutlass included. If anyone needed him, well, they knew where to find him by his own admissions.

The Emperor's Duty: A Warhammer 40K RP

The magos noted the alterations and additions of secondary shooting patterns and lanes of fire, altering the Skitarii patterns to account for this as well, and as the well timed forge workers, servitors, and Foreman struck outwards, the practiced, focused fire of the Skitarii Alphas made mincemeat of the gangers. Typical of unaugmented scum, unaware and unready for an unrelenting, unannounced strike of overwhelming force. The appropriate protocol for the task leads to appropriate results, and once the gangers were dead and their blood pooling in the street, the Skitarii reformed ranks. From firing positions and locations to a moving pattern once again similar to prior. Volkite Caliver to the Magos' left, Rotary Cannon to the right, ranks filling out to the left and right respectively. The Magos was taking the lead now, with the Ranger Alpha Primus filling his spot between the Rotary Cannon and Volkite Caliver wielding Skitarii Alphas.

"Well met, Foreman. Lead the way, and show what is needed to be shown." The Skitarii would fall in behind the Magos without a word or single unnecessary sound. They were on constant vigil, as was RT-A-221 with his Omnispex, whilst the Magos would focus most of his non occupied resources on the Foreman and the situation at hand. It was not a leap of logic for a servant of the Omnissiah to divine the purpose of the Rangers and Magos here, probes for heresy had returned nothing of note, and as such the usefulness of the Foreman and his, albeit far less blessed, troops had been noted. Once the primary objective had been located, secondary objectives could be generated and logged as appropriate. That would come upon securing of Primary Objective, however, and it was likely this was one of the things the Foreman wished to show. Ideally, means to move the munitions would be available as well, and should be, but given the state the forge had been in when approached by his Skitarii, he could not operate under standard operating information with acceptable accuracy.

Fire Emblem: Golden Sun.

Wall of text was a good read, you have my interest as well. Got an idea for a Black Eagle lad already, to be honest, so here's hoping to see enough interest to run this.

Warhammer 40k: Enigmas of the Warp

Stukov chuckled in response to the 'Tannan Suffering' he preferred. Sure, it was an acquired taste, but if anything was going to keep you awake and alert, it was that. Plus, better than the recaff that he had to rely on most of the time, and given how unnervingly nice this place was, he suspected he could afford an indulgence as mild as Tanna. The others were quick to make their own requests, and making jokes at his choice aside, he shrugged when even Aviza had her laugh as well. Smile's rather unusual offhand comment got a sideways glance from the Armsman before returning focus to what was going on in responding to the teasing on his choice of drink. "What can I say? Even I have my indulgences. Better than galley recaff, I'll tell you that much."

Cogs was going about her rather, well, unusual mutterings and chatter. He'd dealt with those of a mechanical inclination before, mind, but this one was a special kind of touched, even among her own kind. Not that he had the lack of intelligence to say that out loud or to her face without damn good reason, mind, but it was still a consideration he made all the same. Though the mention of other members got a cocked eyebrow of curiosity aimed at Aviza as she went about her work. "Who else did I miss while I was off on other assignments? Sounds like an even merrier band of misfits than usual, to be frank."

Andromedai finally chimed in after sufficiently stuffing her face with food, Stukov glancing over as he listened. After lunch, it was tour time, then picking out lodging and downtime to do whatever prior to heading out onto the first mission proper. The usual warning of 'enjoy your time while you can, for tomorrow you may be dead' line of thinking. There was always time for a quick nap or a quick break, whether those of her status believed so or not. Sneaking in micro naps and breaths of, usually figurative, fresh air was important in not going insane. Or getting killed, but those two tended to go hand in hand. "Should I avoid asking about how long it took you to assemble this little slice of decadence here, Celeste, given how jarringly different this is from even typical Inquisitorial fare?"