Hugon watched the carriage make its slow way through the crowds and the bleak city. The paladin was out of his plate armor, dressed in light furs to combat a chill he could not seem to shake, and armed with a dagger at his side. There was a symbol of the maker hung around his neck that he idly played with, partly out of habit and partly out of reassurance. He had arrived a few days earlier, exploring the town a little before making his way to the manor. It was a dark place. Hope was nowhere to be seen, faith in the Lochbornes was gone, and faith in the Maker was all but faded completely. The people were beaten down by the evil that had crept into the land, the air, the water, the very soul of Malacast itself. They felt, no , they knew that there was nothing to be done about the curse and that anyone summoned by Lord Lochborne would just be driven mad or cut down like all the others before had been.
Hugon had done what he could to ease the suffering, but there was only so much one man could do against such darkness, especially a man such as Hugon. His talents had never laid in healing or aiding those harmed by magic, but in cutting down the creatures and villains who had harmed them. The paladin's thoughts turned to the Hanged Man, and he felt a damnable, irrepressible, shiver go down his spine. He had only seen the cursed cadaver from a great distance, swaying gently from his tree on the hill, but he had been certain that the monster was looking right at him, cutting through his armor and demeanor to leer directly at Hugon's soul.
The paladin had made sure to avoid looking at the cursed creature ever since.
He looked on impassively as the crowd was ruthlessly dispersed by the guards. Fear lead to madness, and madness had to be repressed at any cost, or all would be lost. Hugon turned from the window and made his way back farther into the house to prepare for the meeting with Lord Lochborne and the rest. Hugon had not been told anything by Lochborne since he had arrived at the cursed city, simply told that he would be told more when the rest of the Lochborne family's friends arrived. That time had arrived, and despite a feeling of relief at finally being able to begin taking action against the curse that hung so heavily over Malacast, Hugon felt a growing sense of dread at what was to come.
The dining room only made the feeling worse. The symbols of the Maker, usually symbols that brought comfort, seemed to bring the hint of hysteria and despair by the sheer amount present in the room. To say nothing of how the books seemed to watch his every move with a disturbingly predatory gaze. Hugon entered the dining room right as the last of their number finished introducing himself, a young man covered in grime and dirt from the road with a heavy gaze and a scarred visage. The man seemed ready to leap out of his chair at any moment. At least he kept his gear well maintained and clean. That, Hugon supposed, was a small blessing. The other warrior of the group was a dwarf, one of the few Hugon had seen in his travels. A friendly face covered in wrinkles and a large white beard, with a stout frame and scarred face. Hugon hoped that the dwarf's age meant he was someone to be relied on when they undertook this cursed quest, for the Paladin didn't see things in the others that he trusted.
The other two were less reassuring. One was a human woman, with strange facial tattoos and jewelry on her clothing. Her clothes were at least practical, but something about her made Hugon's skin crawl. She looked like someone who had delved where she shouldn't, and that was someone to be wary of. The other was an elf, whose face and skin was as gnarled as the dwarf's was. Dressed in tattered clothes with a seemingly endless number of pouches and pockets, she seemed kind. What was more concerning was the bandages that could be seen, peaking out of her torn gloves.
Strange company the Lochborne family keeps.
"I am Hugon. I arrived here a few days ago at the same request of Lord Lochborne's as you all. He has told me nothing more than what he has told you all, I'm afraid, so we will simply have to wait for him to return."
Gender Male Age: 32 Race: Human Profession: Paladin of the Holy Order: The Maker's Fist.
DETAILS
Detailed Appearance: Hugon has a powerful build, sculpted by a life of war. Standing at six feet exactly, he holds himself tall and proud with his intense dark brown eyes almost constantly on the move, a habit he has picked up from his days of hunting rogue magic users. He keeps his beard neatly trimmed and his shoulder length hair typically tied back, ready for combat. He has relatively few scars, a few on his body, but the most notable are the burn scars on the palms of his hands. Hugon will absent mindedly rub them from time to time. A serious man, it is rare to see his expression shift from its usual focused and stern look. The only time it can be reliably predicted is when he is dealing with magic. When speaking against it he is passionate and driven his iron look replaced with one of fervent belief and conviction. When viewing it there is, at best, disdain on his face and at worst outright hate. When battling against it his face is twisted in rage, hatred, and a deep-set desire to kill and destroy the abomination he his facing.
When not in his armor, Hugon prefers practical, utilitarian, clothing. Leathers for warm weather, furs for cold, and always a pair of sturdy boots. He is always armed with his dagger.
Detailed Backstory:
Hugon was born to a family of farmers along the southern border of Baldock, next to the badlands. His family were serfs, having exchanged most of their freedom for the safety of that the local lord and his men provided. Hugon, his elder brother Leon, and his father worked the lord's fields, while his mother cleaned his castle. Hugon adored his older brother. They were thick as thieves, always together, always looking to cause mischief. Where there was trouble, there was the Goscelnius brothers. Truth be told it was always Leon leading the charge, and Hugon following. Leon had his brother wrapped around his finger, and they shared practically everything.
It wasn't a good life, but it was the life that they had and his parents were content with that. They were safe from the raids that plagued so many of the other border villages, and they had a roof over their heads. That was all they required.
Hugon and Leon felt differently. They hated being forced to work for the lord. Hated how he took so much of their own crops. Hated how his men would walk about, puffed up like roosters even though all they ever did was get drunk at the local tavern and jeer at the serfs. Hated how violent and cruel the lord was when he got into his drinks, and how on those nights their mother would come home hiding new bruises. They dreamed of a time when they would have the power to change all of that, to change the circumstances they lived in and make the lord and his men pay.
That time came when Leon turned 15, and discovered he had magic. It was completely by accident. Hugon, only thirteen at the time, and Leon were trying to fix the family plow, having accidentally broken it while sword-fighting with their wooden swords, and Leon shouted a curse and threw his hands in the air in frustration. Fire shot from his palms into the sky. Both Leon and Hugon froze and looked at each other. Then slowly to Leon's palms, then back at each other. Cautiously, Leon held a palm out and focused. More flames shot out. He jumped back in alarm, then did again and again, the smile on his face growing wider each time. "Careful Leon," Hugon begged, worry battling with excitement, "you don't want to burn the field, and besides remember what we know about magic? It always hurts you too!"
Leon laughed, waving a dismissive hand. "It doesn't hurt, Hugh! Those are just old wives tales, told by people afraid of what they don't know. If it was supposed to hurt me too, I'd already be burned. Like in the stories!" He crouched in front of Hugon and held out his palms. "Do I look burned to you?" When Hugon shook his head, Leon grinned. "This is our chance Hugh! We can finally make them pay for how they treat us, make him pay for how he treats mother! We finally have the power to do something about it!" Hugon, caught up in his brother's excitement and giddy about the idea of finally getting payback against the lord and his guards, didn't notice way Leon was a little too happy about his powers.
For the next year Leon, with the help of Hugon, trained his powers. He grew stronger and capable of more with each passing week, and also more aggressive and erratic. Their father and mother wrote it off as Leon simply being, 'that age' or perhaps they were too afraid to say anything. Leon was taller and broader than their father now, and much less of a passive man. Whenever Hugon would express his concerns at how Leon changed as he grew stronger, he would be soothed by his older brother. "It's just stress from what I have to do," Leon would reassure him, "there's a lot that they have to answer for little brother, and I want to make sure I make them pay for it all. When I'm done it'll be just like the old times, our family will be happy for once."
Hugon regrets those moments most of all, when he saw his brother slipping away but was always stopped from doing something by honeyed words, because when Leon finally 'made them pay' it wasn't at all like he promised.
The day Leon enacted his plans, Hugon would wake to the smell of burning flesh, wood, and fields, and the sounds of screams. He ran out of his families home, skidding to a stop and vomiting in horror at the sight in front of him. His mother and father, burned almost to being unrecognizable, lay on the ground in front of him. The village around was on fire, with burned bodies everywhere. People were running to and fro, either on fire, attempting to put out the fires, or simply trying to run away. In the center of it all was Leon, ranting and raving about payments and what he was owed and how they all deserved to burn as he unleashed blasts of flames at anything and everything.
That was when the old warnings were finally hammered home for Hugon. Magic always had a cost, and the cost for Leon was his mind and his humanity.
Hugon needed to do something. He had done this. He had helped create the monster that was now his brother, and now it was his responsibility to stop Leon before he hurt anyone else. Looking down Hugon saw the burned corpse of one of the lord's men. He had managed to draw his sword before being blasted with fire, and the burning hot weapon itself was on the ground.
The hilt burned Hugon's palms as he tightly grasped it, but he ignored the pain. He had to end this, no matter the cost. He sprinted at his brother and ran Leon through the back with the sword, yanking it out. Leon turned in surprise, blood beginning to pour from the wound. "Hughy? Why-" Hugon's next swing caught him the neck, catching on the bone and Leon gave a gurgled scream, falling to his knees. Hugon swung again. And again. And again. He didn't know how many times or how long he swung, stopping only when his strength failed him. He pulled his hands from the hilt of the sword, skin being ripped off where it had stuck to the heated blade, and then began walking, leaving the bloody mess of his brother's corpse and the devastation of his home far behind.
Hugon didn't know where he was going, didn't care, and truth be told doesn't remember all too clearly most of that time. Flashes of crying and grief, stumbling through woods and along roads, the aching burn in his hands, and the need to atone, to find purpose. The next clear memory Hugon has is waking up in a tent, bandages on his hands and a kind face over his. It was a healer, and Hugon had somehow stumbled his way into a Baldock military encampment. After explaining where Hugon was and how they had found him (nearly dead and incoherently weeping), the healer asked Hugon why he had walked all this way.
Hugon stared at him, dumbly, for a long moment before slowly responding, "To find purpose...I suppose." The healer nodded understandingly. "Well, there's plenty of purpose in the Kingdom's army and a need for men who desire purpose." Thus marked Hugon's start in the Kingdom of Baldock's military, and the path that would lead him to the Paladins of the Maker's Fist.
He was shipped off to a kingdom training camp, and threw himself into the training there with a single minded determination. It gave him something to focus on, other than the grief and the pain. He took well to the military life, the structure, camaraderie, and focus helping him forget what he had helped his brother do. He was convinced that his purpose was in serving the kingdom of Baldock.
Eventually he and the rest of his unit were shipped off to the Orcish Badlands in an attempt to push the barbaric orcs farther back. They were met with vicious resistance almost immediately, and every day became a fight against the fearless and ruthless Orcs. Hugon discovered two things during those times of nearly constant battle: 1) He was very good at killing things and surviving battle, and 2) His purpose wasn't in the army. He didn't feel anything while cutting down the orcs in the name of the Kingdom. It was just rote memory, reflex, and a desire not to die. There wasn't anything more too it. No passion or reason.
That all changed when he and a few others from his unit were assigned to aid the Maker's church in hunting down a magic user who had gone mad along the border with the badlands. The situation was disturbingly similar to Hugon's own experience six years ago. A young woman from a small village gone mad with power, destroying all those she thought had wronged her. Hugon finally had chance to redeem himself, to atone. He planned to be the one leading the mission, and slaying the girl, orders from his superiors be damned.
The paladins intimidated Hugon immediately upon their arrival, with only their presence.
He fell to the back of the group, bravado gone and speech about how he was in charge forgotten. Hugon followed the paladins in quiet awe, watching how they interacted with everyone and went about the business of hunting down the mage. Hugon realized he wanted what they had. The confidence and peace they had on their faces, the good will they exuded, and the iron behind their eyes. They knew that what they had to do would not be pretty, but had to be done and did not balk from their duty. These men had purpose, where Hugon had none.
It didn't take very long to find the mage. She had left a trail of destruction and chaos in her wake, and they came upon her as she was attacking another town. The paladins directed Hugon and his comrades to save what villagers they could, while they dealt with the mad mage. Hugon's fellow soldiers agreed and took off, while Hugon himself ignored the order and charged the mage himself. Rage pulsed through his entire being as he focused on the mage, her image being replaced by that of Leon all those years ago. He was going to redeem himself, before anymore lives were lost due to his inaction.
The woman whirled around at the sound of Hugon's heavy plate running at her. Lightning shot from her hands as she screamed something unintelligible, and Hugon barely dodged out of the way in time as the hair on his body stood on ends. He had to end this quick because he wouldn't be able to dodge everything, and then he would fail. He couldn't fail. He wouldn't.
Hugon put on a burst of speed and power, barely reaching the mage as she brought her hands up for another spell. His axe caught her in the side, nearly severing her in two. She screamed in agony, lightning crackling along her body. His vicious grin lasted only a moment, as she let loose a bolt of lightning square in his chest and he knew only blackness.
Hugon awoke in a bed with one of the paladins sitting vigil across from him. They were in one of the few standing buildings in the village, after the mage had been slain. "Don't worry," the paladin said as he saw the panic in Hugon's face, "the mage was slain. You dealt her a terrible blow, and we were able to cut her down because of it. That was very brave." His next words were curt, cutting Hugon's inflating sense of pride down. "And very stupid. Had we not been right behind you, you could've caused more unnecessary destruction with her death throes. The fact that your plan worked does not change the fact that it was stupidly risky and foolish."
The paladin paused as Hugon seemed to shrink in on himself at the words. "That being said, we can temper that foolishness and rage of yours, and the order could use someone like you to help curb those cursed with magic who are drawn away from the Maker's Light. If you want to leave the army, that is."
It took Hugon a moment to realize what was being offered, and then he stumbled over his words agreeing. The chance to have a purpose, and prevent what happened to his village from happening to others was right in front of him, and he wasn't going to let it slip by.
For the next ten years Hugon would train to be, and eventually become, a Paladin of The Maker's Fist, a holy order dedicated to destroying those who used magic for evil and discouraging all others from using magic. Hugon would go all across Baldock, hunting down magic users who harmed others with their unnatural powers, and marking others who needed to be watched. The Maker had decreed that magic was not meant for mortal hands, and those who dared use it despite those warnings needed to be watched and, occasionally, eliminated. Hugon was content and happy during those years. He had finally found his purpose, and he was helping the kingdom. Not by murdering barbaric orcs in the Badlands, but by purging those who would use their unnatural gifts for cruelty and evil.
During this time, tensions between Yolocto and Baldock rose. Yolocto had discovered gold in a series of heavily forested hills on the border with Baldock, and Baldock claimed those hills were actually on their land. A claim decried as false by Yolocto, for obvious reasons. There were a few border skirmishes when it was first discovered, but nothing major. Baldock didn't have the military resources to pursue a true war against Yolocto, and the mages of Yolocto were encouraged and actively recruited into the military for war.
The Maker's church was often denied access to Yolocto for this very reason, their doctrine clashing with the government's recruiting plan and cultural acceptance of magic as a necessary evil. Hugon and his order mostly ignored the tensions, aside from the occasional disdainful comment about the 'heretics to the east.'
The straw that broke the camel's back came two years ago when the Maker's church sent a delegation with Baldock to those hills to see about setting up a church in the area. The Yolocto military killed all but two, and when those survivors brought back word of what had occurred, fury was sparked across all of Baldock and the Church. It was one thing to kill soldiers who you believed were trespassing on your territory. It was quite another to murder churchmen who were on a mission of peace. The Church of the Maker called for a crusade against Yolocto, and Baldock was the first nation to rally to the call. More followed, and soon the crusade was on its way. The Maker's Fist was to be on the front lines of the crusade, cutting down the Yolocto mages before they could do damage to the crusaders and themselves.
Hugon and his brothers were in high spirits as they marched. They believed they would cut down the unholy heretics in the name of the Maker and drive them before the armies of the crusaders with righteous fury. They were convinced that the Maker was behind their cause and that no foe could stand before them. They were convinced it would be a route.
What actually happened was hell on earth.
Instead of rabbles of heretics fleeing before divine justice, they were met with legions of soldiers with iron discipline and cold resolve. Well trained men who defended their most powerful assets, the mages, with unflinching courage. Hugon and his brothers often had to kill dozens of men just to see the mage, and often times were driven back. No matter how many times Hugon cut down one of the Yolocto soldiers with his axe, another would appear to take his place and he would make no progress. Magic would crash into the battle all around him, and his brothers would be cut down as they struggled to stop the heretics from abusing powers they did not understand, and should not have had.
Hugon had thought the constant fighting on the border with the orcish badlands had been brutal. He had thought that he had seen all the evil humanity could achieve when hunting down rogue mages. He was wrong. The crusading armies pushed forward despite horrific losses, pushing the armies of Yolocto back through sheer numbers. Every time they took a city, they enacted a terrible vengeance upon the civilians and the city itself. Hugon's only light in those dark times was his faith, and he clung to the idea that what they were doing was right and just with all his might as his brothers were cut down and he witnessed monstrosity after monstrosity.
A year would pass before the crusade was called off, and peace was made with Yolocto. Yolocto agreed to give up their claim on the hills disputed with Baldock, and too allow the Maker's Church to set up missions in the nation itself. By this time, Hugon was the only survivor of the initial Paladins sent to Yolocto, and he was a changed man. The crusade had shown him what happened when you let magic infest a culture, allow them to be fooled into thinking that it was a gift rather than a curse and left him stern and cold. Joy, once a frequent guest on his face, was now rarely seen. All that was left was his conviction, his faith, and his hatred of magic.
It has been a year since the end of the crusade. Hugon had been patrolling the lands of Baldock for rogue mages once more, when the call from Lord Lochborne came. Hugon left immediately. He had not been planning on dealing with the curse, as Lord Lochborne had not sought help from the order with his problems, but he owed Lochborne an old debt that he plans to pay in full. Hugon also fears that if the Hanged Man is not cut down soon, what happened in Yolocto will happen in Baldock and he cannot let that happen. Hugon has decided that he is going to end the curse on the Lochborne lands, and prevent a catastrophe.
No matter the cost.
The Crusade was nothing more than a deal between Baldock and the church to get what they both wanted. The Kingdom wanted the hills with gold and the church wanted to convert the heretics, and the best way to do that was to convince all the other nations to attack Yolocto in a holy war. So they intentionally sent a group of Baldock soldiers and Priests of the Maker into Yolocto territory, provoking the desired response to call a crusade so they could steal land from Yolocto and force the nation to let priests of the Maker in.
Most people assume that the reasons the church gave (an unprovoked attack on men of the cloth) was the real reason, though a few who aren't close to the church of Baldock might have guesses as to the real motives.
Equipment
Weapons: Heavy two handed axe and two daggers, one at his side and one in his boot. Armor: Plate, mail, and leather usually worn together to maximize his protection. General Provisions: Flint and tinder, food for a week (grains, nuts, and dried meats), a book of the word of the Maker, supplies to maintain his weapons and armor, and a bedroll. Magical Items: TBD
Magic
Magical Affinity: Hugon has zero magic affinity and greatly prefers it that way. The mere idea of mortals possessing magic is revolting to him. Spells: N/A
OKAY. That took entirely too long and it isn't my best work, but I've got the CS up and ready for review @Lauder
Kopris opened his mouth to retort when the notification went across his omni-tool that he had been muted. He shook his head in minor disbelief. The Quarian's pettiness was blindingly stupid. "Sure, mute the only person here who is even remotely qualified to keep you alive when you get shot in this shithole. Makes perfect sense." The next few minutes were relatively quiet, without much of interest. The maintenance crew had scribbled graffiti and conversations along the wall, but none of it was anything helpful, like how many turns they had until they got out of the sewers. Kopris took the time to activate his visor, the Sirta Foundation scanner taking diagnostics of everyone as he turned to look at them and linking with their suits. Everyone's readouts were normal, and put to the side of his visor to be quietly tracked. If something major happened to any of them, physically, he'd know it almost immediately.
Kopris readied his Punisher as lights appeared and the order to slow down came from Koyla. It would appear that they weren't the only ones in the sewers. Not surprising, given their mark and the body they had found, but he had hoped at least that whoever had done it would be up causing chaos in the compound for them, rather than waiting for them in the sewers.
Kopris let out a quiet curse as the information that they weren't only facing a rival mercenary gang, they were facing a group of Eclipse soldiers. Cause of course one of the biggest three mercenary groups would be going after Sarsi as well, and of course they'd be in the way of the team. He was getting ready to head back out of the sewers, after all the bounty on Sarsi's head wasn't worth fighting through Eclipse with a bunch of people he'd only just met, when he read the rest of the message. A deep, frustrated, sigh escaped Korpis. They definitely had time to retreat. They could call in the Achilles and get the fuck off of the planet before the Eclipse even knew they were there. But no, the idiot boy of a captain had to cling to the Alliance's suicide idolization, and charge into a group of better trained, better equipped, more experienced, and better at working together mercs with this shoddy crew.
Blue biotic energy began to glow from Kopris' entire body as he readied himself to go support Koyla and his stupid charge. Various squad member's pulses began to increase, either from excitement or fear, as adrenaline began to hit them. Kopris had been in too many situations like this too get more than annoyed at Koyla's actions, as a blue biotic barrier began protjecting itself form his left forearm. He waited a heartbeat, letting Hann do the hacking she had so desperately wanted, and then raced forward with a burst of biotically enhanced speed. He couldn't travel as near instantaneously as Koyla could with his charge, but he closed the distance rapidly. His biotic shield raised, catching those shots that were properly aimed at him, and he hit decent cover behind a stack of supply crates in short order.
His shield turned into a lash of biotic energy and he threw it at the Eclipse member aiming at the recently turned sentry turret. The mercenary yelled in alarm as the lash wrapped itself around his leg and he was yanked towards Kopris. He slid across the ground, gun slipping from his hands, and was met with a blast of ballistic blades from Kopris' right omni-tool. His yelling was silenced as the fired omni-blades found purchase in his skull, and Kopris let the body slide past him as he began returning fire on the other Eclipse members, ducking down with a curse as a hail of bullets smacked against his shields.
"'Pay' is a strong word, I feel." Andrea muttered, their first mate having done little to reassure her that everything was going to be okay. Nevertheless, she dropped the discussion. If the captain wanted to be a damn fool and take a someone whose sole existence was to crack down on criminals and rebels onto the flagship of the rebellion, that was her business. Andrea just hoped that the captain's business didn't get everyone else killed, jailed, or worse. She glared right back at Socket as the narcissistic, nasty, troll began his almost unintelligible rant. It was bad enough he was stupidly arrogant enough to go fucking around in the ship's engine without any consideration on how the Lux would fly, but he could barely get two sentences out without sounding like a drunken Glao being dragged face first through a pile of mud. Her eyes narrowed and her fists clenched in fury as he threw the words 'taxi driver' in her face. Who did this ugly little illiterate goblin thing he was?
He only said one thing that made sense, and that was that the Judge was going to leave them alone until he decided that he wasn't. Ansgar might've been an arrogant bastard but he at least knew when not to do something as stupid as trust a Judge when they were the flagship of the human rebellion. As soon as she saw her chance to retort, Andrea leapt at it.
"Yes you should give up on the 'slightest repairs'," She made mocking air quotes at him, "when every other slightest repairs screws up the flight system so much that she goes from flying to tumbling through the sky and from turning like a spaceship to turning like a damn semi-truck being driven by a drunken cow, you stupid bastard! You should beg because your grasp of what happens to the Lux's flying when you make changes is so nonexistent a toddler's imaginary friend knows more! Go crawl back under your little troll bridge and try not to screw us up while we're flying." Andrea, her cape flaring behind her, and headed towards the cockpit with a huff, shooting one last insult back over her shoulder at Ansgar. "Jumped up, useless, plumber school reject!"
She only spared the Judge a quick dirty glance, before heading onward. The lawman wasn't her problem to deal with. If everything went right, she wouldn't ever have to acknowledge his existence.
Andrea's irritation faded as she saw Teg's childlike glee at the prospect of watching yet another take off. The mercenary's joy at flying rivaled Andrea's own, and Teg didn't even know how to fly a space ship. The majesty of the stars was something that they could both agree on.
Andrea sat down and touched her prized figurines one by one, and gave her lucky coin a rub. It was a ritual, when she had time, before flying. It brought good luck, and helped her focus. She saw Cookie running by and narrowed her eyes at the cat. "If you try to mess with my figurines again, I'm going flay you alive you mangy furball." She was certain that the little scoundrel had been trying to steal figurines from her room, as much as Maria claimed she was just being paranoid. Andrea waited until everyone was seated and buckled in (everyone in the bridge. She could care less about Ansgar and the Judge's comfort.) and began to take off. The Lux came to life beneath Andrea's fingers and she smiled, confirming that she was cleared to leave with Hub docking officials.
Sometimes the idiots tried to get more money from the crews that docked there, using their docking rights to try and bully smuggling crews. This time they seemed content to leave them alone, and Andrea began to take the Lux away from the Hub. The dull thrum of the engines became a small roar as they burst into life, the ship shaking slightly as it left the artificial gravity of the Hub. Stars began to whip by as they picked up more and more speed, the ship smoothing out and the roar becoming a consistent thrum once again. Andrea loved that feeling. The feeling of a ship coming to life beneath her hands and the knowledge that freedom was in her hands.
"We're on our way, Captain. No problems to report."
As the ship touched down Kopris was checking over his weapons and gear a final time, making sure to remove his chemical and incendiary rounds. He had declined Ardan's offer to store his weapon in the armory. It wasn't that he didn't trust the Turian, Ardan was an asshole but at least a professional asshole. The Turian wouldn't let pettiness get in the way of doing his job, unlike some of the other crew members. Old habits died hard, however, and the SIU had stressed the importance of self-sufficiency especially on operations that would see him with limited to no support.
Speaking of limited, Kopris looked around at the medbay with a scowl. He had finished his check over of their general medical supplies last night. Or rather, the lack thereof. The cabinets and drawers were either empty or had the bare minimum for medical supplies. He'd searched through them all to no avail. The tiny excuse for a medbay barely had anything and the search had only made the Batarian ever more glad he had brought his own general supplies. He'd be able to string them along till he could buy the actual supplies on Illium. That was assuming that the Matriarch didn't turn anyone to paste while they were trying to bring her in.
"Pathetic. Typical Ex-Alliance. More focused on the shooting than the aftermath." He muttered, standing up and activating his Enforcer gauntlets. The small area was illuminated in a bright orange glow as his fists were covered in an armored gauntlet covered in blades. Giving them a few practice punches, he nodded in satisfaction and deactivated them. He paused a brief moment, luxuriating in the increased heat and humidity. Kar'shan had been a hot planet, and it had been far too long since he'd been this warm. There was no time to waste, however. Kopris lit a cigar and headed down to the loading doors with the rest of the crew waiting for the Captain and listening to his synopsis when he arrived. It wasn't something he entirely agreed with.
Koyla seemed competent, but Kopris had to question the wisdom of a man who decided that the best first mission for a crew that had never worked together and had so much friction between its members was to take down an Asari Matriarch who had been fighting longer than any of them had been alive. He had to question that wisdom even more when the same man decided to give a delicate object like a syringe to a Krogan and entrusted that Krogan with the relatively delicate task of injecting the contents of said syringe into their target. Kopris gave a light shrug and put out his cigar as Koyla hopped off of his crate. It wasn't his job to plan the proper missions for the crew or worry about how well they'd work together. It was his job to put people back together when things went wrong. Kopris popped a piece of candy into his mouth, putting on his helmet and feeling his entire suit seal, and glanced over at Firu. Not that everyone seemed to want to be put back together.
He merely grimaced at the long climb into the sewers. It wasn't the first time he had climbed into a supposedly secure area through its waste removal system, but he had hoped never to do it again. The climb itself wasn't terrible. Plenty of handholds, secure lines. He went second to last, moving methodically and keeping an eye on the people above him. While Koyla may not trust him with anything, his biotic lash was far more likely to catch anyone who fell than Ardan was. They might have a dislocated limb at the end of it, but that was better than breaking on the ground below.
He barely spared the maintenance worker a glance, pulling out his Punisher. Of course there was someone else going for Sarsi. The Matriarch had a lot of credits on her head, and if they could get the information of where she was, so could anyone else. He snorted softly at Hann's complaint, taking Ardan's advice and allowing her to create some space before following her. "Would you prefer we knock on the front door? 'Hello, we're here to take the war criminal you're hiding illegally. Could you please hand her over?'"