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About Rakawan

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    Silver Sage

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  1. No I was just busy and forgot to reply. Will get it tomorrow.
  2. “Any idea what weapon it was?” Trevor asks, pulling out a small scalpel and an interesting looking tool of corpus make.
  3. The Solaris goes limp as you approach, either playing dead or having fainted. The other Solaris part as you approach, but remain close by, unlike the rest of the patrons who very quickly find something infinitely more interesting in the bottom of their glasses. Rolling the rig jockey over, you find the Source of the sound. The box containing the wiring and sensor packs has been crushed. The wiring seems intact, but the cover is ruined.
  4. The assembled patrons scramble backwards the moment you begin to move. One particularly unfortunate Solaris jumps backwards.... Only to rocket into the wall as the augmentations on his legs malfunction, propelling him into the wall with a sickening crunch. He crumples to the ground with a whimper. The young woman who warned the masses, in the other hand, nearly falls off her stool, laughing uproariously.
  5. You wake to find a crowd gathered around you. One particularly brave, or particularly foolish, Solaris patron is gently poking you in the face with a long piece of scrap. “I think it’s dead.” Another patron says, hiding behind his friend. “Maybe we can salvage it?” ”Bad idea.” A voice says. The speaker is a young woman, her bare arms shaping marks from a whip, a clear indication of time spent in a Grineer mining colony. “Have any of you seen what one of those things can do when it’s angry?”
  6. Lucien nods. “Great idea boss.” He says sarcastically. “Just one problem. As I am not clairvoyant, I’m afraid it’s up to you to determine which path is the least hostile.” He inclines his head and the lights on one side of his helmet blink off and then back on, almost like a wink.
  7. ((Yes.)) ”Trevor.” Seven days. “Our friend requires medical attention.” A young man, in the robes of a medic, approach Aes hesitantly. The sleeve if the robes seems to hang looser around his left arm, and as he opens the kit, he seems to favor his right.
  8. A drone floats through the doors. ”Welcome traveler.” A voice says. “I am Cephalon Idri, I will be your guide. May I ask the nature of your business here?” The Nullifiers do not react as if they have noticed the weaponry.
  9. The guards do not react. The reason for their stoic demeanor becomes apparent as you approach and see the Corrupted control mechanisms on their heads. ”Greetings.” A voice says. “Our scanners have detected a Class B infectious life form in your vicinity. Due to recent updates to our policy all such creatures must be muzzled. Those possessing alternative methods of uncertain, such as spines, claws, and stingers, must be left aboard your vessel. Thank you for your compliance.”
  10. Seven is there to greet you, he slips out through the opening and moves to help you shoulder the weight of the Maw corpse. “Let me lend you a hand.” He says. “Folks like us gotta stick together. Unlike that Tenno who left you behind.” He sets the Maw corpse down and looks it over. “My daughter, Sam, she’ll give you a fair price for this.” He said. “Folks upstairs aren’t too interested in proxies, but you might be able to haggle for a bit more if you save the trimmings. Your choice.”
  11. The drone grows larger in your vision. Voices fill your mind. The first is easily recognizable as Executor Ballas. “Archimedean, I am happy to announce the Seven have reviewed your request and agreed to grant it. While your choice of donor did raise some... concerns, we cannot fault your reasoning. A smattering of Dax blood and influence, assuming the donor assists in the rearing of the infants, will no doubt produce scholars specifically suited to the current... circumstances. A Lorist and Gene Archivist will be dispatched to collect the samples and begin incubation. May your children b
  12. The picture shows Miriam and what can safely be assumed to be her children, two boys and a girl. All three children wear the robes of an Achimedian, but there is a distinctly military tone to their stance and expressions. As you touch it the image grows in your vision and you can hear voices. “Why can’t Father be in the picture with us?” This voice is feminine, clearly the daughter. ”Abram is a Dax, Namira, his place is standing guard.” Miriam sounds conflicted, as if she does not want to utter the words. ”But that is not fair.” Namira’s voice is not whiny, but form, as if sta
  13. The voices fall away as you dream, and you soon find yourself back in Miriam Tanis’ workshop. It is as you left it. The sword still propped against the wall, the holographic family picture still flickering on the table, the downed drone still sparking.
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