Peik

Swords & Septims: Adventures in Tamriel (The Elder Scrolls)

Quiet, isn't it?

Beyond Civilisations Grasp... - A Rogue Trader (WH40K) RP (ON HIATUS, closed for now.)

‘’Omnisiah? Was he the guy that these wire-brains pray to?’’ Safi thought to himself as he walked towards the Hub that contained the Station Port, some high-up shops, and most importantly, his room. It was a nice room – it was a damn expensive room, and Safi was actually somewhat heartbroken about the fact that he would have to leave it so soon. And he had paid for the month, yet this was almost his second week here. But he knew how bad shit could get in the Hives, so he was not going to risk getting killed or robbed for a simple view. He could find that on any planet – his life, however, was unique, at least to him. He knew from experience that those walking chop shops, like the one following him, didn’t care at all about ‘mere humans’ like him. Safi knew that, and made a note for himself to not risk himself too much for it. Damn thing had a keen eye, though. But then again, if Safi had that sort of gear embedded into his body, he would be too.

And now it offered (it didn’t come off as an offer, but Safi thought that at least he could refuse if necessary) a job. ‘’Be a bodyguard in a Rogue Trader’s retinue? Sounds just like my sort of thing.’’ As… mechanic as its speech was, Safi appreciated the fact that mister Heavy Machinery was punctual about the information it gave. He admired that in a man, or xeno, or whatever the fuck this thing passed as. And it promised money. ‘’A ticket off this planet, a job, and coin. Nice.’’ He entered through the main entrance of the Hub, and after walking up some stairs, turned to the Enginseer in front of a metallic door. ‘’Give me two minutes. I need to pack up. Or keep going, I think I can catch up.’’ Safi did not wait for an answer, and unlocked the door with some sort of transparent card and quickly hurried inside. Light coming in through the window panes annoyed his eyes in a good way.

His clothing was already packed, since his ironing, folding and packing skills were also well-trained in his time in the Imperial Guard, and the constant training had eventually turned into an obsession with Safi. He quickly slipped into his armor which was somewhat similar to a Vostroyan Heavy Cavalryman’s, wrapped a sash around his waist, slung his lasrifle on his shoulder, opened his visor and got out of the room, holding a traveling bag in one hand. He was now definitely ready to leave.

Swords & Septims: Adventures in Tamriel (The Elder Scrolls)

Balen was used to labor – his natural constitution and strength allowed him to fare pretty well in the task, and pulling sarcophagi was no exception. Being helped by two warriors obviously had an effect. But nonetheless, he wasn’t tired by the time they finished desecrating all the graves in the chamber. ‘’Somebody’s going to be pretty pissed,’’ he thought to himself – it was like the equivalent of having some thieves come into your house and break your bed. Then again, the undead shouldn’t have been waking up, so at least it wasn’t just party who was in the wrong. Objectively speaking, both sides were faulty. But Balen was allied with one side, and he wasn’t going to start acting based on his moral judgment on grave robbing.

The group entered one of the tunnels based on a coin toss – while easy for the others to trudge through, Balen found himself deeply uncomfortable, as his tall stature made it hard for him to fit in. He had to hunch forward and lean his head to the side to walk without hitting his head on the ceiling. It was in times like these when he’d curse his height. It’s not like he was a warrior or a marksman – he didn’t have use for the extended reach or the point of view. But, he believed it was rude to complain about things that just are that way, so he decided to get this thought off his head.

Eventually the group reached what seemed to be a library – plenty of books everywhere, lots of scrolls, although the height was the same. He felt like a wandering giant having stumbled upon the secret dwellings of some underground civilization. No, not the Dwemer – they were far too sophisticated and, according to descriptions, tall for this small and cramped place to be theirs. Plus, their ‘houses’ were in good shape. Though the more important thing right now was the loot, and not Dwemer architecture.

Balen saw the ex-Legionnaire, Sibassius, pocket some jewels off one of the tables. Following him, the aspiring mage, Merci, grabbed some unrefined gold nuggets. Balen thought he could sell the dagger for a good price, but then stopped. He had no idea what the enchantment was, and he certainly wasn’t going to stab anyone or anything around to find out. Better to just go with the good stuff, he thought, and took some of the remaining amethysts. ‘’Would you people mind if I took a look at the scrolls here? There might be some information of value, or something to sell to a bookstore.’’ He did not want to trigger another trap and release walking corpses, not in this cramped space, so he waited for the approval of the others before actually touching anything.

Beyond Civilisations Grasp... - A Rogue Trader (WH40K) RP (ON HIATUS, closed for now.)

The ex-Guardsman sung to himself what he remembered of a jolly tune he had heard years ago to ease his mind as he walked the streets, moving with a brisker pace after having seen a bunch of gangsters arming themselves and the savvier traders closing shop. He was old, at least for an ex-Guardsman, and he could recognize trouble where he saw it. ‘’Better pack up,’’ he mused. He didn’t want to fight for nothing – at least with an employer he could get paid for his troubles.

After hearing a rather unsettling whirring voice not unlike what you’d hear from a Punisher Gatling Cannon preparing its deathly volley, Safi stopped and started to check his surroundings, standing in wait for a sudden burst of fire. He did not want to make a sudden movement and tip off whatever was preparing that. The sound came closer and closer, and as it did Safi was able to discern metallic thump-like footsteps. ‘’A servitor?’’ He thought to himself. But the truth was far worse. ‘’An Enginseer.’’

A rather disturbing mix of man and machine (although for Safi it was hard to see the man in it), robed in white, walked out from an alley, carrying some materials with the implants where his regular hands should have been, with a fifth limb, not unlike a metallic tentacle. Safi was able to deduce that the whirring came from the power tool attached to the fifth limb, since it seemed to buzz with energy. ‘’What the fuck does it want?’’ He thought to himself. Maybe he didn't want to know.

‘’YOU, GUARDSMAN. ESCORT ME TO THE STATION PORT.’’ The monotone sound of the ‘man’ was disturbing – then again, what wasn’t disturbing about this thing? At least it was going where Safi was going to go. Not wanting to disturb the walking horror, Safi decided to comply after a moment of pause. ‘’Yeah, alright, follow me.’’ And he started walking again. He figured he could drop the Enginseer by the entrance of the Station Port and get his things from his room before locking himself up in his room or leaving the planet.

Beyond Civilisations Grasp... - A Rogue Trader (WH40K) RP (ON HIATUS, closed for now.)

I'm writing a response right now.

Beyond Civilisations Grasp... - A Rogue Trader (WH40K) RP (ON HIATUS, closed for now.)

Sure thing.

Beyond Civilisations Grasp... - A Rogue Trader (WH40K) RP (ON HIATUS, closed for now.)

I think he could get along well with Safi, being all ''ESCORT, REMOVE THESE PEOPLE FROM OUR PATH'', or something like that.

Beyond Civilisations Grasp... - A Rogue Trader (WH40K) RP (ON HIATUS, closed for now.)

<Snipped quote by Peik>

So... Eisenhorn?

@Hank

I suppose you can say that. I'm afraid I've only read some Gaunt's Ghosts - WH40K books are hard to find where I live.

Beyond Civilisations Grasp... - A Rogue Trader (WH40K) RP (ON HIATUS, closed for now.)

On a normal day, Safi would tell you that eavesdropping is not his specialty. This was not a normal day, however, as for a man who had spent the majority of his life shooting at whatever the Galaxy had to offer, sitting in this… admittedly cozy bar and quietly sipping his drink was definitely unusual. And the situation was forcing Safi to explore his hidden depths, and learn just how capable he was at lending an ear to other people’s conversations. He would find out, as the conversation continued, that for a man whose eardrums were burst multiple times in the past to krak grenades, he was good at following a regular conversation, and not just barking orders. Interestingly enough, they were talking about the Imperial Guard. Something about how the average life expectancy of a Guardsman was only fifteen hours.

It made Safi stop and think for a moment, as he looked down, eyeing the eggs and bacon in front of him on the table. ‘’30 years is… how many hours?’’ He thought for a moment. He wasn’t a math guy. He couldn’t be bothered with calculating that. He quickly switched the topic to something more pragmatic. ‘’Did I eat any of this?’’ Safi wondered as he took another sip of his Ginvict, eyes still fixed on the dish in front of him. One strip of bacon was half eaten, so he assumed that he had taken at least a bite. He was hungry, and it looked better than what he had eaten for three decades. Putting down his cup, he grabbed the fork and took a greedy piece out of the meal standing in front of him. The scrambled eggs were fatalistic and simply slumped themselves on the fork, while a defiant strip of bacon was trying to free itself from the fork. Safi did not let it go. Following this first strike, Safi decided to follow up and finished his meal in about two minutes. Finishing his remaining Ginvict in a single sip, Safi left the bar.

For Safi, this Outpost was absolutely horrible. Whores, druggies, fags, thieves, all sorts of scum populated this place. Back when he was young, in the Planetary Defense Force, at least he could clean them out. But he was far away from ‘home’, and last he had seen it, it was a desolate ruin littered with literally millions of corpses. Deep down, Safi knew that he actually didn’t care about the scum around him. There was, somewhere in the Galaxy, a planet-sized mass of an alien hive mind, eating god knows how many humans, or anything else, right now. A man keeping himself intoxicated to forget how miserable his life is deserved no hate – he was irrelevant. Safi could, in fact, relate. A few years back, after his tour of duty, he had gone through the same things. Nowadays, he just tried not to think deeply about it.

He noticed a burly, leather clad punk fighting a bunch of thugs in an alleyway as he walked by. Halting his steps, he watched as the fellow, who seemed like he had participated in his fair share of battles, first fell, but eventually got the upper hand and started breaking bones. Safi guessed he’d win from then on and continued on his way to his admittedly expensive quarters, in a more respectable part of the Outpost – Safi liked to see the sun rise and set, as it gave him some comfort. High above him, the ship of a Rogue Trader had entered orbit. On a distant planet, a man who had once served alongside Safi commit suicide via a laspistol shot to the head upon witnessing a horde of Demons overwhelm his trench, and kill his men. Far beyond that, an immeasurably numerous host of eldritch horrors plotted to destroy all life. But Safi tried not to think about it. Instead, he clung onto the taste of eggs and bacon in his mouth, and hoped that he could get a nice view of the sky from the reinforced glass pane that covered the side of his quarters. He could not think of much better in life.

Beyond Civilisations Grasp... - A Rogue Trader (WH40K) RP (ON HIATUS, closed for now.)

Surely some of the Inquisition high-ups would keep records. Or not. But I really like the idea of an incredibly disillusioned Inquisitor who carries on the duty of things he doesn't believe in, for the sake of humanity.