The Setup | 2018 (IC)

[(PSN)qwerty1310]

Spoiler

On 2018-10-10 at 10:44 AM, Locky122 said:

Lucas turned to the newcomer, giving him a quick once-over as he faced him. 

"Jeez, talk about full kit - must either be paranoid or just thought it'd be convenient to have everything ready from the get-go", he pondered as he faced him fully. After a short while, he realized that he had yet to answer his statement about his ship, kicking himself for getting lost in his observations. 

"Hmm? Oh, that thing? Yeah, guess you could say that. It's pre orokin as far as anyone knows - stole it to escape from a corpus research facility I was contracted to sabotage about 3 years back. Takes a bit of getting used to - weight distribution is not what you'd expect if you're used to a modern ship, and those engines take a while to get to full power, so it can sneak up on you if you aren't careful. But it's built like a tank, reliable as all hell, low heat signiture, and since it doesn't use the void for FTL travel, or rely on rails, I can drop in anywhere in the system without setting off all but the most advanced sensors. So yeah it might be old, but like a prime weapon, it's still got a lot going for it."

After his little nerd out about his ship, he then noticed Falon's vessel, somehow recognizing the silhouette. 

"Actually, I think your ship isn't too much younger, if the corpus databases were correct. Must've had more extensive retrofits though - noticed that you still have a conventional FTL drive stashed in there..." 

Suddenly realizing that he hadn't introduced himself, he offered a handshake to the stranger. 

"Dammit, forgot to introduce myself - Lucas Edwards. Might have heard of me in your travels. I prefer not to make big impressions, but with my track record, it's hard not to get some sort of attention for your work." 

Falon Rust continued to eye the relic as the man continued.

"Pre-Orokin? That is old. And yeah, it's a flying tank, could make that out on first sight," Falon agreed, rushing his final words and hoping to steal more time to admire the obviously reinforced airship. The cockpit had been carefully plated with plates and the body of the ship visibly thickened by metal.

"Oh? My ship? I stole...sorry. Found. That baby on Neptune back when I was serving time in a Corpus jail. Turns out we both stole our ships from those pale-skinned asses. They call it the 'Mustang Gamma'."

A smirk could be seen forming on Falon's face as his eyes drifted into the past; remembering the jailbreak he had single-handedly led and caused. The sirens, the guards being pinned down by tons of inmates. Victory. A mess. Sometimes life really needs a bit of chaos.

"Compared to the more advanced Lisets and whatever ships flying out there; yeah, it's old. Hell, even some Grineer ships have tech more advanced than my ship. I think I've heard some people discussing an upcoming prototype, something called a er...RealJerk? That thing would make my ship obsolete...still love it."

The Mustang Gamma smiled back at its owner.

"Anyways, if you think my retrofits are something, I'd definitely say your retrofits are insane. To acquire Pre-Orokin and make it work? Now that's work of a gifted engineer right there," shaking his finger casually at the old ship again.

Falon Rust returned the handshake; gloved hands gripping firmly on Lucas's hand.

"Lucas Edwards huh? Heard of you before. You're that Steel Meridian schmuck that keeps sabotaging operations. One time the lights went out in the jail and I heard it was all your fault," Falon smiled lightly, appreciating the guts the operative in front of him had.

"Falon Rust. Might have heard of me as the other guy. Gunshot. And I agree..."

His guns seemingly glowed to life as he continued.

"It's hard not to get some sort of attention for one's work."

Spoiler

On 2018-10-09 at 10:12 PM, 404Cygni said:

Someone bearing a glyph (that of their host, if she remembered right?) pointed them all to the elevator. She made her way there, already feeling antsy. There had been a lot, and she did mean *a lot* of visible docked ships. Aria wasn't sure she had ever been in presence of so many people outside of relays. And considering that she went in those, dealt her business quick and went out as fast as possible...

Some people were already around, a strange and mismatched bunch. A human. A tenno and her Nyx, holding hands. Another human, bearing grineer weaponry...Wasn't he a known mercenary? Her memory of the details were sort of the fuzzy at the moment.

She smiled at the company and made her way to the elevator, waiting for an occasion to reach for the Dojo's bowels as instructed.

 

Falon Rust noticed the girl with her sword who walked towards the duo, then joined the duo.

"Careful now, we have a space ninja with us."

Edited October 12, 2018 by (PS4)qwerty1310
OOps

[Askaris]

8 hours ago, Arunafeltz said:

 

"Spirits? Oh yeah, spirits!" answered the low-effort Excalibur cosplayer. "The drinks of warriors! Give me uh..."

He glanced around as though expecting to find a recommendation somewhere in the hall. His curious gaze rested on the other patron seeking the Osprey's service, eyes squinting behind his helmet. "I'll have what they're having."

Narakis scanned the list of drinks until one caught her eye. "Frostburn Horizon. Old style." Her head turned to her companion. "Takar?"

@Arunafeltz: The woman appeared quite otherworldly; her skin was deathly pale, and you could just about make out the flickering green light tracing her veins. Dark scars spread out from behind the bionic covering her right eye, the remaining one glowing with the same green radiance. A pair of golden horn-like sensors protruded from her forehead, her ears replaced by a set of long, pointed augmetics. She looked young, but in a Tenno dojo that could indicate an age anywhere between late teens to over a millennia.

Spoiler

Frostburn Horizon: A premium Venusian spirit, taking its name from the boundary conditions on Venus between the icy cold of the terraformed regions and the scorching heat of the outskirts. A bizarre faintly luminescent blue drink that combines the burn of strong liquor with the inherent chill of the cryotic-mutated flora of the Orb Vallis. Traditionally set alight when served, burning with a pale purple flame.

 

Edited October 10, 2018 by Askaris

[Spikey844]

1 hour ago, MetroFallout said:

The gullwing doors on the Epoch Voyager opened with a hiss and a woman dressed extremely oddly in a white satin jacket with a scorpion insignia on the back and wearing aviators stepped out of the oddly-shaped landing craft. Reaching up to get to the inner door strap of the craft, she pulled down to get it low enough for her to use the normal exterior door handle to close the door. A hand rested on her hip while she gestured with her free hand at the craft. With a clunk, the doors locked and she started to walk backwards and turned around with a smile only to come face to face with an Excalibur Umbra petting his smeeta kavat.

"Huh-" she blurted out, barely managing to come to a dead stop before making contact.

Monty smiled politely on reflex, then mentally slapped himself. She couldn't see his face after all. He straightened up and nodded to the new arrival. "Here for the mission alert they sent out, or is this your clan?" He asked. Sara purred and rubbed herself against his leg, not quite demanding attention, but almost.

[Arunafeltz]

1 hour ago, Askaris said:

Narakis scanned the list of drinks until one caught her eye.

"Frostburn Horizon. Old style." Her head turned to her companion. "Takar?"

@Arunafeltz: The woman appeared quite otherworldly; her skin was deathly pale, and you could just about make out the flickering green light tracing her veins. Dark scars spread out from behind the bionic covering her right eye, the remaining one glowing with the same green radiance. A pair of golden horn-like sensors protruded from her forehead, her ears replaced by a set of long, pointed augmetics. She looked young, but in a Tenno dojo that could indicate an age anywhere between late teens to over a millennia.

The Excalibur-man had met many Tenno over the recent years, fighting alongside and even crossing swords with them in practice duels(and losing very honourably and still very heroically every single time). They came in all shapes and sizes, with different faces and names. But the greenish glow and... unwhole appearance of this one unnerved him somewhat. He could feel the hairs on his skin prickling up as the light flickered and danced over hers. Intimidated wasn't the right word to describe how he felt. Or maybe it was, a little. 

No it was not. More importantly, she had ordered an exotic sounding drink that he was not going to be outdone by. Especially not when she had a companion with her.

"Yes! Frostburn Horizon! That one, yeah I like the sound of that!" the man said with bravado. It was worth noting that the imitation Dex Excalibur helmet he was wearing had a voice modulator that sounded exactly like that of Corpus Crewmen across the system, an ugly grating contrast to the fine craftsmanship of the battleworthy hardware it was installed into. He eyed the pair ever more curiously, wondering if they were related. Sisters, perhaps? 

[Agent_Maine]

18 hours ago, IceDragonofAmber said:

Sab elicited a chuckle at mention of the death match. There's a reason she thought Red Veil were the most fun of the Syndicates. “Well let me just ask you this then, what do you think makes more sense for a Valkyr, known for their anger and bloodlust, to do?” Her voice wasn't patronizing nor aggressive, simply that of a friend holding casual conversation. “Sit quietly in a zen garden contemplating all the meanings of 42, or exorcise their fury by obliterating people in a virtual game of Techball?” 

“And you don't desire anarchy, it's just a side effect.” The Valkyr stayed leaned back in her chair as she spoke, arms casually crossed as she did. “What do you think's gonna happen when you shatter the two major power players and leave a bunch of little shards in their wake? Everyone's not suddenly gonna learn how to get along with each other. I might not remember anything, but from what I've heard the years directly following the Orokin's fall weren't exactly a fun time.” 

Sab took a crisp from her bowl and flicked it over at her Carrier at the other end of the room, who was currently attempting to scam people by trying to sell commodities that should have been offered freely. “With such a major power vacuum in place you should be scared that the Infested and Sentients don't just come in and eat everyone.”

Sanera shrugged. "True, though the Infested and Sentients don"t really possess the numbers or power to pose that kind of threat. Currently all we see of the Sentients are those drones on Lua, and the Infested have only managed to obtain Eris while any other attack or outbreak has been repelled." Sanera responded. She glanced over to where Sab had flicked that crisp, seeing the Carrier at the other end of the room.

"Is that Carrier Sentinel yours?" Sanera asked Sab.

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Spoiler

8 hours ago, Askaris said:

Narakis scanned the list of drinks until one caught her eye. "Frostburn Horizon. Old style." Her head turned to her companion. "Takar?"

@Arunafeltz: The woman appeared quite otherworldly; her skin was deathly pale, and you could just about make out the flickering green light tracing her veins. Dark scars spread out from behind the bionic covering her right eye, the remaining one glowing with the same green radiance. A pair of golden horn-like sensors protruded from her forehead, her ears replaced by a set of long, pointed augmetics. She looked young, but in a Tenno dojo that could indicate an age anywhere between late teens to over a millennia.

  Reveal hidden contents

Frostburn Horizon: A premium Venusian spirit, taking its name from the boundary conditions on Venus between the icy cold of the terraformed regions and the scorching heat of the outskirts. A bizarre faintly luminescent blue drink that combines the burn of strong liquor with the inherent chill of the cryotic-mutated flora of the Orb Vallis. Traditionally set alight when served, burning with a pale purple flame.

 

 

6 hours ago, Arunafeltz said:

The Excalibur-man had met many Tenno over the recent years, fighting alongside and even crossing swords with them in practice duels(and losing very honourably and still very heroically every single time). They came in all shapes and sizes, with different faces and names. But the greenish glow and... unwhole appearance of this one unnerved him somewhat. He could feel the hairs on his skin prickling up as the light flickered and danced over hers. Intimidated wasn't the right word to describe how he felt. Or maybe it was, a little. 

No it was not. More importantly, she had ordered an exotic sounding drink that he was not going to be outdone by. Especially not when she had a companion with her.

"Yes! Frostburn Horizon! That one, yeah I like the sound of that!" the man said with bravado. It was worth noting that the imitation Dex Excalibur helmet he was wearing had a voice modulator that sounded exactly like that of Corpus Crewmen across the system, an ugly grating contrast to the fine craftsmanship of the battleworthy hardware it was installed into. He eyed the pair ever more curiously, wondering if they were related. Sisters, perhaps? 

 

"I shall prepare two Frostburn Horizons then. What shall the third customer be having?" The Osprey said, turning towards Takar and awaiting her decision.

[-AoN-CanoLathra-]

16 hours ago, Askaris said:

Narakis scanned the list of drinks until one caught her eye. "Frostburn Horizon. Old style." Her head turned to her companion. "Takar?"

7 hours ago, Agent_Maine said:

"I shall prepare two Frostburn Horizons then. What shall the third customer be having?" The Osprey said, turning towards Takar and awaiting her decision.

"I don't drink much. A fuzzy mind leads to fuzzy sight, and that proves more true for me than it does for most others. I'll just have some sort of non-alcoholic fruit juice. Surprise me."

Takar looked around the room. The 'Excalibur' with them was...odd. He gave off an air of bravado, but his mind was full of fear and confusion. What's more, the helmet he wore was a somewhat rare variant, making her curious as to just exactly -how- he acquired it. He obviously wasn't a tenno, considering both his lack of Void energy and his apparent fear of Nakaris's constant radiation of it.

Interesting that he can tell. Or maybe the aura is so strong that it is actually visible. I wish I could tell.

Takar continued to scan the room, seeing a disturbingly familiar Valkyr talking to another tenno, along with a vaugely-familiar Mesa.

Hopefully that Valkyr won't be quite as....enthusiastic...this time. Other than that, it looks like another large crew.

Takar turned back to the ones standing near her, and addressed the Excalibur-head-wearing-man while 'looking' at him intently.

"Hello. I am Takar Lathra. What is your name?"

[InfiniumV]

In a lonely isolated facility at the equator of Venus, there stood a facility. Quiet and in most respects it was of no particular note. It took damaged goods and reprocessed them into other goods for other uses - Essentially a glorified recycling centre, the Hystuc Salvage Yards remained uneventful after taking a fairly hefty financial blow from funding a mostly dry foray into piracy. 

But that isn't important right now, even with the Obelisk slowly drifting into its mooring with coffers full and storage stacked with salvaged metals and equipment. Because in one of the many underground chambers resided the large form of an Orbiter. It remained unfastened or bolted down, because it was a visitor and provided a considerable mote of logistic support to the company and housed one of the most murderous beings in the system. 

A child of the Zariman. 

As the Orange-and-Grey Taxon that Aegrimon inhabited drifted up to the somatic pod, he wondered how his charge was faring now - having spent some time in good company by Corpus standards - Might have improved his mood considerably. "Operator!" He chimed, but to no response - nothing new to Aegrimon at this point considering the morose nature of Hemlock.
"Now, Hemlock - No need to shy away, come on out - It's almost time for your lunch and you haven't eaten today!" The Taxon chimed again, this time slightly more worried, considering the silence and overall lack of a reply.

"Oh for the love of- Open up allred-" A forced command to the Somatic pod revealed a startling sight to the Cephalon. Where his Star-Child would be, was a tuberculous, pustule ridden mass of red-to-grey fleshmetal, construed into a facsimile of Hemlock's own vital signatures. 

In short, before the looming realisation of everything else hit him - Aegrimon just realised something very very bad.

He'd been duped.
The resulting digital-screech incurred a fatal-exception error in anything less advanced than a railgun-moa, making the Techs sad and the MOA units very dead. 
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Look J'kotal, I know you and your kindred have a thing with honor or like drinking but please don't do that next time! This is the third time now that I had to reprimand you for challenging a full-blooded human or corpus individual when your dialiitic implants are out of commision." reprimanded the venerable Doctor Saijek, who was angrily venting at the Grineer for his escapades and love of alcoholic drinks.

And promptly rolled his eyes and groaned in discomfort, after all - When your liver implants stuff up and you're recovering from a drinking contest you tend to be forced into the uncomfortable experience that was Dialysis. "Gghn. Aight doc, but how was I to know they'd break then of all times?" J'kotal asked the man, only for the doctor to shoot him a glare with a free complimentary scowl. 

"J'kotal, no excuses - This is the third time need-I-remind-you, and you have neurological implants that should be able to keep track of all this! Look, I'm a busy man and I've other patients to see to, and you're all set for now. One week, no drinks, alcohol or drugs that I haven't given you the All-Clear for. Got it?"

"Got it. Thanks 'Doc." 

"You're welcome, now come along - There's more than a few people in the waiting line."
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------His walk to his respective 'Dorm' was uneventful as it was casual. With a grunt he turned the airlock-bulkhead-pressure-door-abomination and stepped inside, closing it behind him and entering the somewhat damp and dank cavern. Alas, it was not stone nor steel that was the common sight, but pots upon pots of plant specimens from all corners of the system. 

It would be a minor understatement to say that J'kotal considered himself a gardener. If he felt like it, chances are he could probably set up a decent plant nursery and turn a tidy sum but for now he was content to meander about his quarters and tend to the various greens that were potted, hung, potted-and-hung and anything else that escaped the criteria. 

As he sat down next to his pride and joy, a now rather healthy looking Mulberry tree, however small it was. He was in the middle of harvesting the latest crop of berries when his comm-unit fired up abruptly, startling him and causing him to crush the large handful of berries in his hand and eliciting a great deal of exasperation from the man. After cleaning said hand, he picked up his comlink and made the critical error of hoisting it to his ear.

"N'yello?"

And was almost deafened on the spot by the screaming Cephalon on the other side.
Erring on the side of caution, he remotely set the comm-link's sensitivity to 'Maximum', grabbed a megaphone and scampered to the other side of the room. 

What followed was a back and forth between a Grineer and a nigh-psychotic Cephalon as both parties would try bridge the gap between "Chillest-guy-on-the-planet" and "Digital-Exterminatus" over the course of an hour. By the end of it all, J'kotal knew what he had to do, and begrudgingly picked up the comm-unit again and went to his contact list. The man was the last person he wanted to talk to at the moment considering he drunk J'kotal under the table and left him nursing both a headache and an extended spell of sobriety.

"Hello? Lucas? Sorreh' to barge in on ya like this but-ah, We've a wee bit of a problem...You know where Hemlock is, by any stretch 'o the world?"
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The patina-stained Nidus sat in the control seat of what was arguably the most rickety ship he'd ever seen in his life. The only reason it was working now was because of his special friend tying it together with strands of metallic-meat-moss and technocarcinoma. Hemlock leaned back in his ship and looked upon the Helminth's masterwork of making this thing space-worthy again. 

'You did a good job here, Helminth, It's quite appreciated.'  The child mused, knowing that the body inside his body heard him clearly. The distant murmurs and groans in the back of his mind seemed to bely a degree of acknowledgement from the pestilent entity. It'd been a few hours ago that Hemlock had caught the signal dispatched by the Reaping Olympians and had known that Aegrimon would adamantly refuse to send him there, let alone give it a second thought. 

But Hemlock was bored out of his mind, and had been in a pretty bad spell - As far as he was concerned now, he may as well try improve his day in the same way as most Tenno do - By ruining the days of countless others by murdering the ever-loving-shiet out of them. The Gox was approaching the hangar bay, now being visible in the distance - The personnel would indeed be getting the right details and the invitation, but it would be standing out amongst a sea of technical gibberish and...groaning? The audio feed from the craft was awash with junk-data and all the sounds that screamed "Infested" and "Bad News" and most definitely "Nidus"

The only intelligible part was a guttural, wet, legionlike voice intoning two words.
"WwWeE CoMmE."

And then be able to realise that the Gox itself was only detected when it was too close to the hangar bay to actually be shot down or otherwise intercepted.

They would see that as the craft neared, it's lights and emission systems flickered constantly, and was covered in all manner of dust, rust and of course - Technocyte Meatmoss. Lots of it, holding the Gox together in a manner not unlike stitches and muscle tissue. It was also going quite fast and towards the hangar bay - Moving with a haphazard but purposeful course, it would indeed reach the hangar. But it certainly did not enter gracefully.

As the craft was ascending, one of the gun-arms would catch on the lower lip of the docking bay with enough force to send the Gox into a tumbling spiral. The next few seconds would involve the quiet of the hanger being interrupted as the ramshackle craft somersaulted into the bay, and began cartwheeling in a spectacular show of self destruction - As if each spin sent it into a faster-and-faster spiral that crumpled the ship like a can, scattering debris and steel left right and center as the ship shook itself to pieces - with the secondary-gun arm breaking off no more than 2 seconds into the scene.

For the savvy they could see that despite the seemingly uncontrollable cascade, the ship unnaturally steered away from any inhabited or otherwise full spaces - tumbling towards an empty area of the bay even as the ship burst into flames and became a hellish boulder of unreasonable rudeness as its primary weapon-arm broke off and set the ship into a now clockwise spin in regards to its bow. Finally stopping a good 75ft into the hangar, it sat there for a good few seconds - before a modest explosion ripped a section of the craft open, and consumed it in a blue-orange inferno of plasma-fire and, well, regular fire. 

It would seem like the ship was still, only for the signal of a Moros-Phenotype charger, adorned in its respective armor to lunge out of the burning craft - yelping in its distorted manner as a bit of its posterior was aflame, only for the flame to be smothered by its impressive regenerative capabilities. Didn't stop the thing for running around in circles for a few choice moments before it picked up a familiar scent. 

Whilst Falon wouldn't know who-in-the-damn-world this hell-mutt belonged to, Lucas on the other hand would almost certainly recognise it, and by proxy who it belonged to, as the Charger promptly forgot about everything and anything - confidently trotting up to him and began sniffing at his boot and trousers, tail wagging furiously and seemingly unable to contain its excitement or anticipation for scritches.

It was also at this moment that his comm-unit would begin buzzing with a call, and when a patina-and-grey arm launched one of the smouldering panels from the Gox, as "Mister-War-Crime" otherwise known Hemlock hauled himself from the Gox's mangled, burning remains and begrudgingly plucking bits and irregular pieces of shrapnel from his armoured carapace before locking his proverbial 'eyes' with the man and began walking towards him, still fishing out the metal fragments sticking out of the Warframe's body.

As for the Gox? It's earlier detonation wouldn't be anywhere near potent enough to harm the floor it crashed upon, save some scratches and scorch marks as the flames consumed the craft itself. Curiously, the earlier signs of Infestation were now dying off completely - Any visible bits that weren't obscured by flame lost their organic lustre, and any of the glowing, scale-like formations to dim entirely. 

Though on a more positive note, the cleaning staff wouldn't have to work *too* hard. Just had to clear the gradually-less-burn-y Gox in the bay. For dockworkers, they've probably seen worse. 
Probably.

 

[IceDragonofAmber]

On 2018-10-11 at 9:56 AM, Agent_Maine said:

Sanera shrugged. "True, though the Infested and Sentients don"t really possess the numbers or power to pose that kind of threat. Currently all we see of the Sentients are those drones on Lua, and the Infested have only managed to obtain Eris while any other attack or outbreak has been repelled." Sanera responded. She glanced over to where Sab had flicked that crisp, seeing the Carrier at the other end of the room.

"Is that Carrier Sentinel yours?" Sanera asked Sab.

 

"Ownership is a strong word." Sab remarked, launching the third crisp as someone actually paid the Carrier for a glass of Carbonated Dihydrogen Monoxide. "We exist in what is more akin to a mutually cooperative and mutually beneficial contractionally binding arrangement between two or more independant third parties, that both aims to and strives towards the betterment of all involved individual third parties' both independent and shared financial and monetary interests slash assets, as further outlined on page 24 paragraph 3 Section 47 forward slash b dash a."

Sab crossed her arms and watched the Sentinel approach a particularly inerberated and quite unaware man. "It picks up my sh!t for me during missions and I let Greed operate its illegal Tenno betting rings in my Liset." She watched as the Carrier so thoughtfully reacquired the person's credits before they had the chance to lose them.

"As well as launder whatever else the floating money sac gets its vacuum on."

Edited October 12, 2018 by IceDragonofAmber
I never took Chemistry forgive me

[Arunafeltz]

17 hours ago, -AoN-CanoLathra- said:

 

Takar turned back to the ones standing near her, and addressed the Excalibur-head-wearing-man while 'looking' at him intently.

"Hello. I am Takar Lathra. What is your name?"

"Well met, Takar. I am the famed Agent 1011, Morroc. Hans Morroc!" the Excalibur-man answered grandly, standing tall and folding his arms. In a well-rehearsed maneuver, he jerked his head to the side, causing the helmet's faceplate to retract and reveal the smirking face of an ex-Corpus arms dealer; while pulling back his shoulders, puffing out his chest and causing his crimson Asa Syandana to flow (magnificently) in an invisible breeze.

"You sisters must be here for the same reason. The fates have brought us together here against a common enemy!" he continued. "To this fateful meeting, let us drink!"

Edited October 11, 2018 by Arunafeltz
Typo

[IceDragonofAmber]

On 2018-10-10 at 3:44 PM, WilcotheWolf said:

Wilco chuckles sadly. "I'm not in the mood for parties anyway, still reeling from a mission that blew most of our group to dust. Its just three guys trying to survive after losing almost everything."

Phi pipes up, taking advantage of being unmuted. "Actually, your wrong there Wilco. Its three guys, me and the Orbiter." He then vibrates angrily as he was muted by Wilco, who chuckles nervously. "Phi doesn't understand the meaning of what I'm saying sometimes." He then looks away, embarrassed of what he did.

Sab rolled her head back in Wilco's direction. "I mean, that sounds like the perfect time to throw a party. You know, to cheer yourself up a little. Have a good time, meet some people, get the word out, maybe even start a fundraiser. Might get enough Tenno to pitch in to get some of your stuff back."

The Baset helm moved back in the direction of the Sentinel. "I'll even chip in and bring some food if you want, might be a bit spicy though."

[404Cygni]

Le 10/10/2018 à 15:51, (PS4)qwerty1310 a dit :

 

Falon Rust noticed the Mag who walked towards the duo, then joined the duo.

"Careful now, we have a space ninja with us."

Words have meaning. They bear power.The Oroking had kept grand libraries. Magnificient ones, bearing the knowledge of the past. It had hurt so much, seeing those troves of knowledge burn. The word 'ninja'...It dated back to the Old Earth. By the fall of the Orokin, it was already antiquated, but she knew what it meant, being the bookworm she was. Ninjas were ancient assassins of a nearly forgotten culture, living in the shadow and walking a path of bloodshed.
 

Words can hurt and kill as easily as any sword when wielded by someone smart enough. And hurt they did. Yet, she didn't feel they were meant to. What were the odds these two, short-lived humans were well-read on Orokin knowledge treating of a civilization long lost to the sands of sand?

Not to mention, if they did mean it, she could see where it came from. Their collective reputations came from somewhere. The Tennos were born drenched in blood, and most of them just kept themselves that way.

Yet, as her face went a deep red, she couldn't help but fumble through her words.

"We're not...All like that, you know? Many of us do terrible things, I know, but...Not all of us..."

Even to her ears, it seemed like a weak defense. Tennos were  children, groomed for war. Many of them likely couldn't remember anything but war. Was it so surprising they could only deal war?...So why did it feel like she was enabling monsters? It's hard, being the lost child of a violent and hateful civilisation. It's hard and nobody understands.

Edited October 11, 2018 by 404Cygni

[Askaris]

6 hours ago, Arunafeltz said:

"Well met, Takar. I am the famed Agent 1011, Morroc. Hans Morroc!" the Excalibur-man answered grandly, standing tall and folding his arms. In an well-rehearsed maneuver, he jerked his head to the side, causing the helmet's faceplate to retract and reveal the smirking face of an ex-Corpus arms dealer; while pulling back his shoulders, puffing out his chest and causing his crimson Asa Syandana to flow (magnificently) in an invisible breeze.

"You sisters must be here for the same reason. The fates have brought us together here against a common enemy!" he continued. "To this fateful meeting, let us drink!"

"Less than five minutes since I docked, and already I have a new sibling."

Narakis pulled out a chair, sitting across from Hans. She flexed the fingers of her left hand idly, as if testing their motion. Seemingly satisfied, she continued;

"Narakis Agni." Her eye flicked to Takar, that ghostly smile crossing her features before vanishing once again. "No relation." She looked at Hans, still striking his dramatic pose. "I can't say I've heard of an Agent 1011 before. I think I'd remember if I had."

Edited October 11, 2018 by Askaris

[Agent_Maine]

Spoiler

15 hours ago, -AoN-CanoLathra- said:

"I don't drink much. A fuzzy mind leads to fuzzy sight, and that proves more true for me than it does for most others. I'll just have some sort of non-alcoholic fruit juice. Surprise me."

Takar looked around the room. The 'Excalibur' with them was...odd. He gave off an air of bravado, but his mind was full of fear and confusion. What's more, the helmet he wore was a somewhat rare variant, making her curious as to just exactly -how- he acquired it. He obviously wasn't a tenno, considering both his lack of Void energy and his apparent fear of Nakaris's constant radiation of it.

Interesting that he can tell. Or maybe the aura is so strong that it is actually visible. I wish I could tell.

Takar continued to scan the room, seeing a disturbingly familiar Valkyr talking to another tenno, along with a vaugely-familiar Mesa.

Hopefully that Valkyr won't be quite as....enthusiastic...this time. Other than that, it looks like another large crew.

Takar turned back to the ones standing near her, and addressed the Excalibur-head-wearing-man while 'looking' at him intently.

"Hello. I am Takar Lathra. What is your name?"

 

8 hours ago, Arunafeltz said:

"Well met, Takar. I am the famed Agent 1011, Morroc. Hans Morroc!" the Excalibur-man answered grandly, standing tall and folding his arms. In an well-rehearsed maneuver, he jerked his head to the side, causing the helmet's faceplate to retract and reveal the smirking face of an ex-Corpus arms dealer; while pulling back his shoulders, puffing out his chest and causing his crimson Asa Syandana to flow (magnificently) in an invisible breeze.

"You sisters must be here for the same reason. The fates have brought us together here against a common enemy!" he continued. "To this fateful meeting, let us drink!"

 

2 hours ago, Askaris said:

"Less than five minutes since I docked, and already I have a new sibling."

Narakis pulled out a chair, sitting across from Hans. She flexed the fingers of her left hand idly, as if testing their motion. Seemingly satisfied, she continued;

"Narakis Agni." Her eye flicked to Takar, that ghostly smile crossing her features before vanishing once again. "No relation." She looked at Hans, still striking his dramatic pose. "I can't say I've heard of an Agent 1011 before. I think I'd remember if I had."

 

"Very well." The Osprey said, floating away. After about a minute, it returned with three drinks. "Two Frostburn Horizons for Agent 1011 and Narakis Agni." It said, putting the Frostburn Horizons on the table. "And one Apple Juice for Takar Lathra." It said, giving Takar the Apple Juice. "I hope the choice was appropriate - we did not know what kind of juice you liked so we went with something quite common."

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8 hours ago, IceDragonofAmber said:

 

"Ownership is a strong word." Sab remarked, launching the third crisp as someone actually paid the Carrier for a glass of Carbonated Hydrogen Monoxide. "We exist in what is more akin to a mutually cooperative and mutually beneficial contractionally binding arrangement between two or more independant third parties, that both aims to and strives towards the betterment of all involved individual third parties' both independent and shared financial and monetary interests slash assets, as further outlined on page 24 paragraph 3 Section 47 forward slash b dash a."

Sab crossed her arms and watched the Sentinel approach a particularly inerberated and quite unaware man. "It picks up my sh!t for me during missions and I let Greed operate its illegal Tenno betting rings in my Liset." She watched as the Carrier so thoughtfully reacquired the person's credits before they had the chance to lose them.

"As well as launder whatever else the floating money sac gets its vacuum on."

Sanera narrowed her eyes. "I see. So your Carrier gets stuff for you in missions, so you let it operate illegal Tenno betting rings, probably scam people, and steal things? I don't think I've ever seen a Tenno-Sentinel partnership like that before. You really are strange." She remarked. She threw her Rakta Dark Dagger into the air, before catching it as she sighed.

Edited October 11, 2018 by Agent_Maine

[WilcotheWolf]

9 hours ago, IceDragonofAmber said:

Sab rolled her head back in Wilco's direction. "I mean, that sounds like the perfect time to throw a party. You know, to cheer yourself up a little. Have a good time, meet some people, get the word out, maybe even start a fundraiser. Might get enough Tenno to pitch in to get some of your stuff back."

The Baset helm moved back in the direction of the Sentinel. "I'll even chip in and bring some food if you want, might be a bit spicy though."

"I'm just not in a party mood. At all. Just here to do a mission, do what I gotta do, get rewarded. Plain and Simple." His tone of voice had turned gruff before he became silent, signifying that trying to convince him further would most likely end up badly. His Taxon makes an angry noise at the valkyr before hovering around, being a Taxon. Plain and Simple. Again.

[Locky122]

On 2018-10-10 at 11:51 PM, (PS4)qwerty1310 said:

  Reveal hidden contents

 

Spoiler

 

Falon Rust continued to eye the relic as the man continued.

"Pre-Orokin? That is old. And yeah, it's a flying tank, could make that out on first sight," Falon agreed, rushing his final words and hoping to steal more time to admire the obviously reinforced airship. The cockpit had been carefully plated with plates and the body of the ship visibly thickened by metal.

"Oh? My ship? I stole...sorry. Found. That baby on Neptune back when I was serving time in a Corpus jail. Turns out we both stole our ships from those pale-skinned asses. They call it the 'Mustang Gamma'."

A smirk could be seen forming on Falon's face as his eyes drifted into the past; remembering the jailbreak he had single-handedly led and caused. The sirens, the guards being pinned down by tons of inmates. Victory. A mess. Sometimes life really needs a bit of chaos.

"Compared to the more advanced Lisets and whatever ships flying out there; yeah, it's old. Hell, even some Grineer ships have tech more advanced than my ship. I think I've heard some people discussing an upcoming prototype, something called a er...RealJerk? That thing would make my ship obsolete...still love it."

The Mustang Gamma smiled back at its owner.

"Anyways, if you think my retrofits are something, I'd definitely say your retrofits are insane. To acquire Pre-Orokin and make it work? Now that's work of a gifted engineer right there," shaking his finger casually at the old ship again.

Falon Rust returned the handshake; gloved hands gripping firmly on Lucas's hand.

"Lucas Edwards huh? Heard of you before. You're that Steel Meridian schmuck that keeps sabotaging operations. One time the lights went out in the jail and I heard it was all your fault," Falon smiled lightly, appreciating the guts the operative in front of him had.

"Falon Rust. Might have heard of me as the other guy. Gunshot. And I agree..."

His guns seemingly glowed to life as he continued.

"It's hard not to get some sort of attention for one's work."

  Reveal hidden contents

 

Falon Rust noticed the Mag who walked towards the duo, then joined the duo.

"Careful now, we have a space ninja with us."

 

 

 

14 hours ago, 404Cygni said:

Spoiler

 

Words have meaning. They bear power.The Oroking had kept grand libraries. Magnificient ones, bearing the knowledge of the past. It had hurt so much, seeing those troves of knowledge burn. The word 'ninja'...It dated back to the Old Earth. By the fall of the Orokin, it was already antiquated, but she knew what it meant, being the bookworm she was. Ninjas were ancient assassins of a nearly forgotten culture, living in the shadow and walking a path of bloodshed.
 

Words can hurt and kill as easily as any sword when wielded by someone smart enough. And hurt they did. Yet, she didn't feel they were meant to. What were the odds these two, short-lived humans were well-read on Orokin knowledge treating of a civilization long lost to the sands of sand?

Not to mention, if they did mean it, she could see where it came from. Their collective reputations came from somewhere. The Tennos were born drenched in blood, and most of them just kept themselves that way.

Yet, as her face went a deep red, she couldn't help but fumble through her words.

"We're not...All like that, you know? Many of us do terrible things, I know, but...Not all of us..."

Even to her ears, it seemed like a weak defense. Tennos were  children, groomed for war. Many of them likely couldn't remember anything but war. Was it so surprising they could only deal war?...So why did it feel like she was enabling monsters? It's hard, being the lost child of a violent and hateful civilisation. It's hard and nobody understands.

 

 

 

18 hours ago, InfiniumV said:

Spoiler

In a lonely isolated facility at the equator of Venus, there stood a facility. Quiet and in most respects it was of no particular note. It took damaged goods and reprocessed them into other goods for other uses - Essentially a glorified recycling centre, the Hystuc Salvage Yards remained uneventful after taking a fairly hefty financial blow from funding a mostly dry foray into piracy. 

But that isn't important right now, even with the Obelisk slowly drifting into its mooring with coffers full and storage stacked with salvaged metals and equipment. Because in one of the many underground chambers resided the large form of an Orbiter. It remained unfastened or bolted down, because it was a visitor and provided a considerable mote of logistic support to the company and housed one of the most murderous beings in the system. 

A child of the Zariman. 

As the Orange-and-Grey Taxon that Aegrimon inhabited drifted up to the somatic pod, he wondered how his charge was faring now - having spent some time in good company by Corpus standards - Might have improved his mood considerably. "Operator!" He chimed, but to no response - nothing new to Aegrimon at this point considering the morose nature of Hemlock.
"Now, Hemlock - No need to shy away, come on out - It's almost time for your lunch and you haven't eaten today!" The Taxon chimed again, this time slightly more worried, considering the silence and overall lack of a reply.

"Oh for the love of- Open up allred-" A forced command to the Somatic pod revealed a startling sight to the Cephalon. Where his Star-Child would be, was a tuberculous, pustule ridden mass of red-to-grey fleshmetal, construed into a facsimile of Hemlock's own vital signatures. 

In short, before the looming realisation of everything else hit him - Aegrimon just realised something very very bad.

He'd been duped.
The resulting digital-screech incurred a fatal-exception error in anything less advanced than a railgun-moa, making the Techs sad and the MOA units very dead. 
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Look J'kotal, I know you and your kindred have a thing with honor or like drinking but please don't do that next time! This is the third time now that I had to reprimand you for challenging a full-blooded human or corpus individual when your dialiitic implants are out of commision." reprimanded the venerable Doctor Saijek, who was angrily venting at the Grineer for his escapades and love of alcoholic drinks.

And promptly rolled his eyes and groaned in discomfort, after all - When your liver implants stuff up and you're recovering from a drinking contest you tend to be forced into the uncomfortable experience that was Dialysis. "Gghn. Aight doc, but how was I to know they'd break then of all times?" J'kotal asked the man, only for the doctor to shoot him a glare with a free complimentary scowl. 

"J'kotal, no excuses - This is the third time need-I-remind-you, and you have neurological implants that should be able to keep track of all this! Look, I'm a busy man and I've other patients to see to, and you're all set for now. One week, no drinks, alcohol or drugs that I haven't given you the All-Clear for. Got it?"

"Got it. Thanks 'Doc." 

"You're welcome, now come along - There's more than a few people in the waiting line."
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------His walk to his respective 'Dorm' was uneventful as it was casual. With a grunt he turned the airlock-bulkhead-pressure-door-abomination and stepped inside, closing it behind him and entering the somewhat damp and dank cavern. Alas, it was not stone nor steel that was the common sight, but pots upon pots of plant specimens from all corners of the system. 

It would be a minor understatement to say that J'kotal considered himself a gardener. If he felt like it, chances are he could probably set up a decent plant nursery and turn a tidy sum but for now he was content to meander about his quarters and tend to the various greens that were potted, hung, potted-and-hung and anything else that escaped the criteria. 

As he sat down next to his pride and joy, a now rather healthy looking Mulberry tree, however small it was. He was in the middle of harvesting the latest crop of berries when his comm-unit fired up abruptly, startling him and causing him to crush the large handful of berries in his hand and eliciting a great deal of exasperation from the man. After cleaning said hand, he picked up his comlink and made the critical error of hoisting it to his ear.

"N'yello?"

And was almost deafened on the spot by the screaming Cephalon on the other side.
Erring on the side of caution, he remotely set the comm-link's sensitivity to 'Maximum', grabbed a megaphone and scampered to the other side of the room. 

What followed was a back and forth between a Grineer and a nigh-psychotic Cephalon as both parties would try bridge the gap between "Chillest-guy-on-the-planet" and "Digital-Exterminatus" over the course of an hour. By the end of it all, J'kotal knew what he had to do, and begrudgingly picked up the comm-unit again and went to his contact list. The man was the last person he wanted to talk to at the moment considering he drunk J'kotal under the table and left him nursing both a headache and an extended spell of sobriety.

"Hello? Lucas? Sorreh' to barge in on ya like this but-ah, We've a wee bit of a problem...You know where Hemlock is, by any stretch 'o the world?"
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The patina-stained Nidus sat in the control seat of what was arguably the most rickety ship he'd ever seen in his life. The only reason it was working now was because of his special friend tying it together with strands of metallic-meat-moss and technocarcinoma. Hemlock leaned back in his ship and looked upon the Helminth's masterwork of making this thing space-worthy again. 

'You did a good job here, Helminth, It's quite appreciated.'  The child mused, knowing that the body inside his body heard him clearly. The distant murmurs and groans in the back of his mind seemed to bely a degree of acknowledgement from the pestilent entity. It'd been a few hours ago that Hemlock had caught the signal dispatched by the Reaping Olympians and had known that Aegrimon would adamantly refuse to send him there, let alone give it a second thought. 

But Hemlock was bored out of his mind, and had been in a pretty bad spell - As far as he was concerned now, he may as well try improve his day in the same way as most Tenno do - By ruining the days of countless others by murdering the ever-loving-shiet out of them. The Gox was approaching the hangar bay, now being visible in the distance - The personnel would indeed be getting the right details and the invitation, but it would be standing out amongst a sea of technical gibberish and...groaning? The audio feed from the craft was awash with junk-data and all the sounds that screamed "Infested" and "Bad News" and most definitely "Nidus"

The only intelligible part was a guttural, wet, legionlike voice intoning two words.
"WwWeE CoMmE."

And then be able to realise that the Gox itself was only detected when it was too close to the hangar bay to actually be shot down or otherwise intercepted.

They would see that as the craft neared, it's lights and emission systems flickered constantly, and was covered in all manner of dust, rust and of course - Technocyte Meatmoss. Lots of it, holding the Gox together in a manner not unlike stitches and muscle tissue. It was also going quite fast and towards the hangar bay - Moving with a haphazard but purposeful course, it would indeed reach the hangar. But it certainly did not enter gracefully.

As the craft was ascending, one of the gun-arms would catch on the lower lip of the docking bay with enough force to send the Gox into a tumbling spiral. The next few seconds would involve the quiet of the hanger being interrupted as the ramshackle craft somersaulted into the bay, and began cartwheeling in a spectacular show of self destruction - As if each spin sent it into a faster-and-faster spiral that crumpled the ship like a can, scattering debris and steel left right and center as the ship shook itself to pieces - with the secondary-gun arm breaking off no more than 2 seconds into the scene.

For the savvy they could see that despite the seemingly uncontrollable cascade, the ship unnaturally steered away from any inhabited or otherwise full spaces - tumbling towards an empty area of the bay even as the ship burst into flames and became a hellish boulder of unreasonable rudeness as its primary weapon-arm broke off and set the ship into a now clockwise spin in regards to its bow. Finally stopping a good 75ft into the hangar, it sat there for a good few seconds - before a modest explosion ripped a section of the craft open, and consumed it in a blue-orange inferno of plasma-fire and, well, regular fire. 

It would seem like the ship was still, only for the signal of a Moros-Phenotype charger, adorned in its respective armor to lunge out of the burning craft - yelping in its distorted manner as a bit of its posterior was aflame, only for the flame to be smothered by its impressive regenerative capabilities. Didn't stop the thing for running around in circles for a few choice moments before it picked up a familiar scent. 

Whilst Falon wouldn't know who-in-the-damn-world this hell-mutt belonged to, Lucas on the other hand would almost certainly recognise it, and by proxy who it belonged to, as the Charger promptly forgot about everything and anything - confidently trotting up to him and began sniffing at his boot and trousers, tail wagging furiously and seemingly unable to contain its excitement or anticipation for scritches.

It was also at this moment that his comm-unit would begin buzzing with a call, and when a patina-and-grey arm launched one of the smouldering panels from the Gox, as "Mister-War-Crime" otherwise known Hemlock hauled himself from the Gox's mangled, burning remains and begrudgingly plucking bits and irregular pieces of shrapnel from his armoured carapace before locking his proverbial 'eyes' with the man and began walking towards him, still fishing out the metal fragments sticking out of the Warframe's body.

As for the Gox? It's earlier detonation wouldn't be anywhere near potent enough to harm the floor it crashed upon, save some scratches and scorch marks as the flames consumed the craft itself. Curiously, the earlier signs of Infestation were now dying off completely - Any visible bits that weren't obscured by flame lost their organic lustre, and any of the glowing, scale-like formations to dim entirely. 

Though on a more positive note, the cleaning staff wouldn't have to work *too* hard. Just had to clear the gradually-less-burn-y Gox in the bay. For dockworkers, they've probably seen worse. 
Probably.

 

Before he could either respond to the tenno OR rip into Feron for his lack of tact, the rickety gox craft decided that now was a good time to crash the gates and make what could be described as the worst landing that Lucas had ever seen. Any worse, and he'd be wondering if the crew even survived impact. 

However, the sight of a very familliar infested doggo quickly announced who just pile-drived docking Bay 40.

As Scab walked up to him, wagging its tail, Lucas couldn't help but give the cute little mass of mutation a quick scratch, resulting in the charger rolling over to get a belly rub, obviously delighted in the fact that scratches were being dispensed.

"Heya, scab! What brought you here?", Lucas said as he intensified his belly rubbing, only then noticing the ring tone coming from his comms unit on his sleeve, looking to see who it was. 

"J'kotal? What's he ringing my sorry ass for?" 

Picking up the call and routing it through his earpiece, he motioned to the others to wait for a bit. 

"Hey, Jacko - what's up..."

He started pacing, Scab following closely behind - head cocked in confusion as to why this human was talking to himself. 

While he waited for J'kotal to continue, he eyed a certain nidus crawling out of the wreckage, plucking God knows what out of his chassis, while slowly making his way towards him. 

"... Funny you should mention that, because I'm at the Reaping Olympians' dojo, watching none other than hemlock himself drag himself out of a burn out gox he pile-drived into the blacktop. Doesn't look too happy either..."

As he said that last line, his hand instinctively reached for the grip of his lex, popping the catch off while he eyed the Nidus as he lumbered towards the group. 

Edited October 12, 2018 by Locky122
actual formatting - mobile site sucks ass

[Arunafeltz]

5 hours ago, Agent_Maine said:

"

Very well." The Osprey said, floating away. After about a minute, it returned with three drinks. "Two Frostburn Horizons for Agent 1011 and Narakis Agni." It said, putting the Frostburn Horizons on the table. "And one Apple Juice for Takar Lathra." It said, giving Takar the Apple Juice. "I hope the choice was appropriate - we did not know what kind of juice you liked so we went with something quite common."

 

7 hours ago, Askaris said:

"Less than five minutes since I docked, and already I have a new sibling."

Narakis pulled out a chair, sitting across from Hans. She flexed the fingers of her left hand idly, as if testing their motion. Seemingly satisfied, she continued;

"Narakis Agni." Her eye flicked to Takar, that ghostly smile crossing her features before vanishing once again. "No relation." She looked at Hans, still striking his dramatic pose. "I can't say I've heard of an Agent 1011 before. I think I'd remember if I had."

The man named Morroc seemed unfazed that the Tenno, or most probably nobody in the entire Dojo for that matter, knew of him. He took his seat as Narakis took hers, and continued unapologetically.

"Well, we're all brothers and sisters in arms now."

He looked down at the little purple flames in their Frostburn Horizon glasses, his bright brown eyes betraying a hint of uncertainty. The fumes and strong alcohol vapours wrinkled his nose as he sniffed, then looked up at his companions.

"Now then." he began, raising his glass after the girl Takar was ready. "To our meeting, our good health, and glory! Mostly the last bit."

[-AoN-CanoLathra-]

8 hours ago, Agent_Maine said:

"Very well." The Osprey said, floating away. After about a minute, it returned with three drinks. "Two Frostburn Horizons for Agent 1011 and Narakis Agni." It said, putting the Frostburn Horizons on the table. "And one Apple Juice for Takar Lathra." It said, giving Takar the Apple Juice. "I hope the choice was appropriate - we did not know what kind of juice you liked so we went with something quite common."

"Well, I did ask you to surprise me. And choosing the blandest juice in the system certainly was a surprise. Thank You."

10 hours ago, Askaris said:

"Less than five minutes since I docked, and already I have a new sibling."

Narakis pulled out a chair, sitting across from Hans. She flexed the fingers of her left hand idly, as if testing their motion. Seemingly satisfied, she continued;

"Narakis Agni." Her eye flicked to Takar, that ghostly smile crossing her features before vanishing once again. "No relation." She looked at Hans, still striking his dramatic pose. "I can't say I've heard of an Agent 1011 before. I think I'd remember if I had."

2 hours ago, Arunafeltz said:

The man named Morroc seemed unfazed that the Tenno, or most probably nobody in the entire Dojo for that matter, knew of him. He took his seat as Narakis took hers, and continued unapologetically.

"Well, we're all brothers and sisters in arms now."

He looked down at the little purple flames in their Frostburn Horizon glasses, his bright brown eyes betraying a hint of uncertainty. The fumes and strong alcohol vapours wrinkled his nose as he sniffed, then looked up at his companions.

"Now then." he began, raising his glass after the girl Takar was ready. "To our meeting, our good health, and glory! Mostly the last bit."

After raising her glass and gulping down a swallow, Takar spoke once again to the strange man before her.

"Agent Eleven? An interesting designation. How did you acquire it?"

[(PSN)qwerty1310]

Spoiler

19 hours ago, InfiniumV said:

In a lonely isolated facility at the equator of Venus, there stood a facility. Quiet and in most respects it was of no particular note. It took damaged goods and reprocessed them into other goods for other uses - Essentially a glorified recycling centre, the Hystuc Salvage Yards remained uneventful after taking a fairly hefty financial blow from funding a mostly dry foray into piracy. 

But that isn't important right now, even with the Obelisk slowly drifting into its mooring with coffers full and storage stacked with salvaged metals and equipment. Because in one of the many underground chambers resided the large form of an Orbiter. It remained unfastened or bolted down, because it was a visitor and provided a considerable mote of logistic support to the company and housed one of the most murderous beings in the system. 

A child of the Zariman. 

As the Orange-and-Grey Taxon that Aegrimon inhabited drifted up to the somatic pod, he wondered how his charge was faring now - having spent some time in good company by Corpus standards - Might have improved his mood considerably. "Operator!" He chimed, but to no response - nothing new to Aegrimon at this point considering the morose nature of Hemlock.
"Now, Hemlock - No need to shy away, come on out - It's almost time for your lunch and you haven't eaten today!" The Taxon chimed again, this time slightly more worried, considering the silence and overall lack of a reply.

"Oh for the love of- Open up allred-" A forced command to the Somatic pod revealed a startling sight to the Cephalon. Where his Star-Child would be, was a tuberculous, pustule ridden mass of red-to-grey fleshmetal, construed into a facsimile of Hemlock's own vital signatures. 

In short, before the looming realisation of everything else hit him - Aegrimon just realised something very very bad.

He'd been duped.
The resulting digital-screech incurred a fatal-exception error in anything less advanced than a railgun-moa, making the Techs sad and the MOA units very dead. 
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Look J'kotal, I know you and your kindred have a thing with honor or like drinking but please don't do that next time! This is the third time now that I had to reprimand you for challenging a full-blooded human or corpus individual when your dialiitic implants are out of commision." reprimanded the venerable Doctor Saijek, who was angrily venting at the Grineer for his escapades and love of alcoholic drinks.

And promptly rolled his eyes and groaned in discomfort, after all - When your liver implants stuff up and you're recovering from a drinking contest you tend to be forced into the uncomfortable experience that was Dialysis. "Gghn. Aight doc, but how was I to know they'd break then of all times?" J'kotal asked the man, only for the doctor to shoot him a glare with a free complimentary scowl. 

"J'kotal, no excuses - This is the third time need-I-remind-you, and you have neurological implants that should be able to keep track of all this! Look, I'm a busy man and I've other patients to see to, and you're all set for now. One week, no drinks, alcohol or drugs that I haven't given you the All-Clear for. Got it?"

"Got it. Thanks 'Doc." 

"You're welcome, now come along - There's more than a few people in the waiting line."
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------His walk to his respective 'Dorm' was uneventful as it was casual. With a grunt he turned the airlock-bulkhead-pressure-door-abomination and stepped inside, closing it behind him and entering the somewhat damp and dank cavern. Alas, it was not stone nor steel that was the common sight, but pots upon pots of plant specimens from all corners of the system. 

It would be a minor understatement to say that J'kotal considered himself a gardener. If he felt like it, chances are he could probably set up a decent plant nursery and turn a tidy sum but for now he was content to meander about his quarters and tend to the various greens that were potted, hung, potted-and-hung and anything else that escaped the criteria. 

As he sat down next to his pride and joy, a now rather healthy looking Mulberry tree, however small it was. He was in the middle of harvesting the latest crop of berries when his comm-unit fired up abruptly, startling him and causing him to crush the large handful of berries in his hand and eliciting a great deal of exasperation from the man. After cleaning said hand, he picked up his comlink and made the critical error of hoisting it to his ear.

"N'yello?"

And was almost deafened on the spot by the screaming Cephalon on the other side.
Erring on the side of caution, he remotely set the comm-link's sensitivity to 'Maximum', grabbed a megaphone and scampered to the other side of the room. 

What followed was a back and forth between a Grineer and a nigh-psychotic Cephalon as both parties would try bridge the gap between "Chillest-guy-on-the-planet" and "Digital-Exterminatus" over the course of an hour. By the end of it all, J'kotal knew what he had to do, and begrudgingly picked up the comm-unit again and went to his contact list. The man was the last person he wanted to talk to at the moment considering he drunk J'kotal under the table and left him nursing both a headache and an extended spell of sobriety.

"Hello? Lucas? Sorreh' to barge in on ya like this but-ah, We've a wee bit of a problem...You know where Hemlock is, by any stretch 'o the world?"
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The patina-stained Nidus sat in the control seat of what was arguably the most rickety ship he'd ever seen in his life. The only reason it was working now was because of his special friend tying it together with strands of metallic-meat-moss and technocarcinoma. Hemlock leaned back in his ship and looked upon the Helminth's masterwork of making this thing space-worthy again. 

'You did a good job here, Helminth, It's quite appreciated.'  The child mused, knowing that the body inside his body heard him clearly. The distant murmurs and groans in the back of his mind seemed to bely a degree of acknowledgement from the pestilent entity. It'd been a few hours ago that Hemlock had caught the signal dispatched by the Reaping Olympians and had known that Aegrimon would adamantly refuse to send him there, let alone give it a second thought. 

But Hemlock was bored out of his mind, and had been in a pretty bad spell - As far as he was concerned now, he may as well try improve his day in the same way as most Tenno do - By ruining the days of countless others by murdering the ever-loving-shiet out of them. The Gox was approaching the hangar bay, now being visible in the distance - The personnel would indeed be getting the right details and the invitation, but it would be standing out amongst a sea of technical gibberish and...groaning? The audio feed from the craft was awash with junk-data and all the sounds that screamed "Infested" and "Bad News" and most definitely "Nidus"

The only intelligible part was a guttural, wet, legionlike voice intoning two words.
"WwWeE CoMmE."

And then be able to realise that the Gox itself was only detected when it was too close to the hangar bay to actually be shot down or otherwise intercepted.

They would see that as the craft neared, it's lights and emission systems flickered constantly, and was covered in all manner of dust, rust and of course - Technocyte Meatmoss. Lots of it, holding the Gox together in a manner not unlike stitches and muscle tissue. It was also going quite fast and towards the hangar bay - Moving with a haphazard but purposeful course, it would indeed reach the hangar. But it certainly did not enter gracefully.

As the craft was ascending, one of the gun-arms would catch on the lower lip of the docking bay with enough force to send the Gox into a tumbling spiral. The next few seconds would involve the quiet of the hanger being interrupted as the ramshackle craft somersaulted into the bay, and began cartwheeling in a spectacular show of self destruction - As if each spin sent it into a faster-and-faster spiral that crumpled the ship like a can, scattering debris and steel left right and center as the ship shook itself to pieces - with the secondary-gun arm breaking off no more than 2 seconds into the scene.

For the savvy they could see that despite the seemingly uncontrollable cascade, the ship unnaturally steered away from any inhabited or otherwise full spaces - tumbling towards an empty area of the bay even as the ship burst into flames and became a hellish boulder of unreasonable rudeness as its primary weapon-arm broke off and set the ship into a now clockwise spin in regards to its bow. Finally stopping a good 75ft into the hangar, it sat there for a good few seconds - before a modest explosion ripped a section of the craft open, and consumed it in a blue-orange inferno of plasma-fire and, well, regular fire. 

It would seem like the ship was still, only for the signal of a Moros-Phenotype charger, adorned in its respective armor to lunge out of the burning craft - yelping in its distorted manner as a bit of its posterior was aflame, only for the flame to be smothered by its impressive regenerative capabilities. Didn't stop the thing for running around in circles for a few choice moments before it picked up a familiar scent. 

Whilst Falon wouldn't know who-in-the-damn-world this hell-mutt belonged to, Lucas on the other hand would almost certainly recognise it, and by proxy who it belonged to, as the Charger promptly forgot about everything and anything - confidently trotting up to him and began sniffing at his boot and trousers, tail wagging furiously and seemingly unable to contain its excitement or anticipation for scritches.

It was also at this moment that his comm-unit would begin buzzing with a call, and when a patina-and-grey arm launched one of the smouldering panels from the Gox, as "Mister-War-Crime" otherwise known Hemlock hauled himself from the Gox's mangled, burning remains and begrudgingly plucking bits and irregular pieces of shrapnel from his armoured carapace before locking his proverbial 'eyes' with the man and began walking towards him, still fishing out the metal fragments sticking out of the Warframe's body.

As for the Gox? It's earlier detonation wouldn't be anywhere near potent enough to harm the floor it crashed upon, save some scratches and scorch marks as the flames consumed the craft itself. Curiously, the earlier signs of Infestation were now dying off completely - Any visible bits that weren't obscured by flame lost their organic lustre, and any of the glowing, scale-like formations to dim entirely. 

Though on a more positive note, the cleaning staff wouldn't have to work *too* hard. Just had to clear the gradually-less-burn-y Gox in the bay. For dockworkers, they've probably seen worse. 
Probably.

 

 

Spoiler

15 hours ago, 404Cygni said:

Words have meaning. They bear power.The Oroking had kept grand libraries. Magnificient ones, bearing the knowledge of the past. It had hurt so much, seeing those troves of knowledge burn. The word 'ninja'...It dated back to the Old Earth. By the fall of the Orokin, it was already antiquated, but she knew what it meant, being the bookworm she was. Ninjas were ancient assassins of a nearly forgotten culture, living in the shadow and walking a path of bloodshed.
 

Words can hurt and kill as easily as any sword when wielded by someone smart enough. And hurt they did. Yet, she didn't feel they were meant to. What were the odds these two, short-lived humans were well-read on Orokin knowledge treating of a civilization long lost to the sands of sand?

Not to mention, if they did mean it, she could see where it came from. Their collective reputations came from somewhere. The Tennos were born drenched in blood, and most of them just kept themselves that way.

Yet, as her face went a deep red, she couldn't help but fumble through her words.

"We're not...All like that, you know? Many of us do terrible things, I know, but...Not all of us..."

Even to her ears, it seemed like a weak defense. Tennos were  children, groomed for war. Many of them likely couldn't remember anything but war. Was it so surprising they could only deal war?...So why did it feel like she was enabling monsters? It's hard, being the lost child of a violent and hateful civilisation. It's hard and nobody understands.

 

Spoiler

6 hours ago, Locky122 said:

 

 

Before he could either respond to the tenno OR rip into Feron for his lack of tact, the rickety gox craft decided that now was a good time to crash the gates and make what could be described as the worst landing that Lucas had ever seen. Any worse, and he'd be wondering if the crew even survived impact. 

However, the sight of a very familliar infested doggo quickly announced who just pile-drived docking Bay 40.

As Scab walked up to him, wagging its tail, Lucas couldn't help but give the cute little mass of mutation a quick scratch, resulting in the charger rolling over to get a belly rub, obviously delighted in the fact that scratches were being dispensed.

"Heya, scab! What brought you here?", Lucas said as he intensified his belly rubbing, only then noticing the ring tone coming from his comms unit on his sleeve, looking to see who it was. 

"J'kotal? What's he ringing my sorry ass for?" 

Picking up the call and routing it through his earpiece, he motioned to the others to wait for a bit. 

"Hey, Jacko - what's up..."

He started pacing, Scab following closely behind - head cocked in confusion as to why this human was talking to himself. 

While he waited for J'kotal to continue, he eyed a certain nidus crawling out of the wreckage, plucking God knows what out of his chassis, while slowly making his way towards him. 

"... Funny you should mention that, because I'm at the Reaping Olympians' dojo, watching none other than hemlock himself drag himself out of a burn out gox he pile-drived into the blacktop. Doesn't look too happy either..."

As he said that last line, his hand instinctively reached for the grip of his lex, popping the catch off while he eyed the Nidus as he lumbered towards the group. 

 

The weak defenses of the Tenno's words made the killer soften a bit.

Just a bit.

"Yeah, well, all of us do terrible things. No matter who you are, what you do; in this system, no one gets away clean," Falon sighed, his pearly eyes staring at the younger girl. He didn't mean what he said when he foolishly called the girl a 'ninja', but these words carried a sense of...experience. As if the man had just killed someone.

"Well, I learn that the hard way. I'm a..."

Swirling noises of a ship crying in distress could be heard as Falon was interrupted rudely. He instinctively swung his hand on his Rogga handgun, the familiar tension within his body started to ring again; yet relaxed. What could go wrong in such a highly guarded base?

Something went wrong.

An aircraft twirled its way past the three, spiraling and crashing into the ground, scratching the floor beneath it, sending off a series of shrilling noises that reverberated through the docking bay. A deafening silence ensued as the ship remained still, teasing what was next to come; an audible explosion sounded off, consuming the craft alive with flames and shrouding the scene in smoke.

"What the hell?"

Falon advanced slightly; the hand on his Rogga handgun now gripping firmly. For a moment, the man smirked. Killing. Familiar.

His thoughts were cleared when what emerged from the crash site was not a Corpus, nor Grineer, nor Tenno.

A dog.

A f@cking dog.

The Infested mess made its way to Lucas, recognizing him as it merrily enjoyed every moment it had with the man. Falon pointed his Rogga at the Helmnith charger jokingly, then keeping it away safe in his holster.

"Can't do it. Too cute."

Falon folded his arms; noticing that Lucas had to step away for a moment for his rather important call, the mutated dog following him as he did.

"What happened...that beast was piloting that thing?" Falon muttered, confused.

Sounds from the crash site drew Falon's attention. A man had crawled his way out of the burning steel bars as he emerged from the depths of hell. The burning man strolled victoriously towards the three; flames still gnawing on him. Lucas's movement caught Falon's eyes as he noticed the man's hand reach for his Lex.

Falon frowned, gesturing his hand to signal the girl he was talking to earlier to put that lethal Dakra blade of hers to good use.

Falon drew his Buzlok rifle to his chest, the killer's finger lying comfortably on the trigger.

Whoever Lucas was talking to, whatever that dog was, didn't matter anymore.

Whoever had crawled out of the crash site...

That mattered.

[404Cygni]

There was no need to tell her. The moment the helminth had been out, Aria's blade had been in her hands, ready to defend the two squishier humans. Except nothing happened. The charger seemed...Happy? Playful?

"That's a...Pet? What kind of madman keeps an infested as a pet?"

That came out as barely a thoughtful murmur. It wasn't very important, anyways, everything becoming secondary as something came from that ship. It looked like a Warframe, the Nidus model to be exact, except everything about it felt wrong and unnatural and dangerous. Before she even knew it, she had shifted to the front of the group, her blade out in one hand,the other quickly signing a clear message: 'I'm covering you.'
 

Maybe she was wrong. Maybe this wasn't going to be the fight of their lives, or a fight at all. But she had this gut feeling, and her gut had a pretty good track record so far, as unscientific as it was.

[IceDragonofAmber]

17 hours ago, Agent_Maine said:

Sanera narrowed her eyes. "I see. So your Carrier gets stuff for you in missions, so you let it operate illegal Tenno betting rings, probably scam people, and steal things? I don't think I've ever seen a Tenno-Sentinel partnership like that before. You really are strange." She remarked. She threw her Rakta Dark Dagger into the air, before catching it as she sighed.

 

"Should see my Cephalon, rust bucket nearly killed me just cause its body was slightly below average." Sab wasn't even looking at Sanera, nor Wilco, at this point, instead closely eyeing the Carrier as it attempted to "service" a table right as one of the actual Ospreys arrived. "Though you're not that usual yourself." The Valkyr began to flex her fingers, white smoke eminating from her palm as energy was channeled.  "I'm used to Red Veil operatives being a bit less casual and a lot more mentally scarred, no offense. Fun during the mission, not so much during the debriefing, not that those could get any worse. Honestly surprised you didn't try to gut me when I bad mouthed your Syndicate."

 

 

16 hours ago, WilcotheWolf said:

"I'm just not in a party mood. At all. Just here to do a mission, do what I gotta do, get rewarded. Plain and Simple." His tone of voice had turned gruff before he became silent, signifying that trying to convince him further would most likely end up badly. His Taxon makes an angry noise at the valkyr before hovering around, being a Taxon. Plain and Simple. Again.

The Warframe simply shrugged its shoulders. "Alright,  suit yourself." The Taxon's noise momentarily gripped Sab's attention away from the floating vacuum, Sab only speaking when she returned to looking back at Greed. "Your Taxon shouldn't do that. It's rude."

Edited October 12, 2018 by IceDragonofAmber

[MetroFallout]

On 2018-10-10 at 11:36 PM, Spikey844 said:

Monty smiled politely on reflex, then mentally slapped himself. She couldn't see his face after all. He straightened up and nodded to the new arrival. "Here for the mission alert they sent out, or is this your clan?" He asked. Sara purred and rubbed herself against his leg, not quite demanding attention, but almost.

"The former. I'm trying to regain my memories and I got a tip that they might be able to help with that." said Farah, taking a step back from Monty to actually talk properly with him and looking down at the kavat. "Ooh, what's the cutie's name?"

[Arunafeltz]

12 hours ago, -AoN-CanoLathra- said:

After raising her glass and gulping down a swallow, Takar spoke once again to the strange man before her.

"Agent Eleven? An interesting designation. How did you acquire it?"

Morroc's brows furrowed for a moment as he realized he hadn't thought of a good story for his handle name's origin. So he said the truth, which he thought wasn't bad at all.

"I've fought countless daring and dangerous missions alongside Tenno warriors like yourself. It seemed fitting that I name myself similarly. Ten-Eleven just sounded like a cool number." he explained.

The Horizon drink continued to sizzle, filling his nostrils with a burning sensation. His eyes returned to Narakis and he suppressed a gulp. Determined not to let himself be outdone, he raised the glass to his mouth and swallowed the little flame, then chugged down the rest of the drink in a hurry.

[Askaris]

57 minutes ago, Arunafeltz said:

Morroc's brows furrowed for a moment as he realized he hadn't thought of a good story for his handle name's origin. So he said the truth, which he thought wasn't bad at all.

"I've fought countless daring and dangerous missions alongside Tenno warriors like yourself. It seemed fitting that I name myself similarly. Ten-Eleven just sounded like a cool number." he explained.

The Horizon drink continued to sizzle, filling his nostrils with a burning sensation. His eyes returned to Narakis and he suppressed a gulp. Determined not to let himself be outdone, he raised the glass to his mouth and swallowed the little flame, then chugged down the rest of the drink in a hurry.

Narakis raised an eyebrow as Hans downed his drink, fire and all. There was a brief silence as the flaming-ice-liquor made its painful way down his gullet before she picked up her own glass, blew out the flame, and took a sip.

"Traditionally, Frostburn Horizon is lit to add a toasted flavour, and to take the edge off the chill. Downing it while it's still alight is known around Venus as the Frostburn Suicide Shot." She raised her glass in salute. "Not something done by the faint of heart. Impressive."

[Agent_Maine]

14 hours ago, IceDragonofAmber said:

"Should see my Cephalon, rust bucket nearly killed me just cause its body was slightly below average." Sab wasn't even looking at Sanera, nor Wilco, at this point, instead closely eyeing the Carrier as it attempted to "service" a table right as one of the actual Ospreys arrived. "Though you're not that usual yourself." The Valkyr began to flex her fingers, white smoke eminating from her palm as energy was channeled.  "I'm used to Red Veil operatives being a bit less casual and a lot more mentally scarred, no offense. Fun during the mission, not so much during the debriefing, not that those could get any worse. Honestly surprised you didn't try to gut me when I bad mouthed your Syndicate."

"Mentally scarred? Well, I guess you could say my mental fortitude and sanity is better than most of the other Veil members. I've been in a death game, had to fight a practically undead infested version of my friend alone, and so much more, and yet I haven't devolved into edginess like the other 75% of the Red Veil. And the reason I didn't try to gut you is because I'm actually sane and can tolerate criticism of my very flawed Syndicate." Sanera responded.

"No offense taken, either. I recognize the problems within my Syndicate."

Edited October 13, 2018 by Agent_Maine

[InfiniumV]

^{"Jacko?! Excuse me what-the-fu"} 
As the rickety goxcraft continued to burn out, the Nidus became more and more visible - And though the stance betrayed something on edge, it was likely because Hemlock was on fire, and had a dozen or so bits of shrapnel and debris poking out of him. 'Course, that'd fail to stop a Nidus-type warframe in the first place, but that part isn't important. 

The actual important bit was that all three figures ahead of him -Scab aside- were now readying themselves as if he was about to do something violent - Fortunately for everyone here, violence was the last thing on Hemlocks mind. Raising his arms in a mock surrender pose as he continued to stride towards the rag-tag group of independents ahead of him. 

"Easy now, I know I made a less then acceptable entrance but I can assure you-" Intoned the technocyte-golem as it paused mid stride, casting its sight back upon the burning ruin of the Gox before returning his eyes to the party in front of him. "-My intentions are very much far from hostile." Hemlock resumed in a concise and curt manner, as he kept moving forward. "If I was hostile and had an intent to harm, I'd have my gun upon you by now not sooner, right Lucas?" he asked, remembering that one situation back at the hanger of the salvage yards. 

Hemlock would join the group proper - If any tried to threaten him he'd just look and give a dismissive shrug at the notion, coming towards Lucas himself. 
And would extend his hand in anticipation of a handshake, only to cast a glance at at the blood-covered appendage, pull it back and wipe off the blood onto his right thigh and extend his hand again. 

"Considering our situation it is nice to see a familiar face. Barring your little nickname for him, I imagine J'kotal would be rather stoked to hear you are well. How have you been, and who are your new friends here?"

He'd turn his head to look at the two present. 

"Would you be so kind as to introduce me?"
 

Edited October 15, 2018 by InfiniumV