[IC] Siren's Call

[InfiniumV]

~ Several days prior to departure ~
Built into a mountain on the Venusian Equator, the Hystruc Salvage Yards were snugly tucked into the rock, a canvas of greys, greens and white, only broken by the occasional landing platform, and the main Command & Control complex, neatly tied to the mountainside by support struts & elevators.

The command complex was one of three major parts, the main approach was built into a large canyon, running down the mountainside, whilst the main complex was hidden deep within the stones - As always with the Corpus, it was a fairly busy hub of activity - Mostly smaller transport vessels, and small groups of Gox class frigates flew to and fro, disgorging their bellies of steel and wire for reprocessing - or stocking up in preparation for salvage operations.
The facility itself was currently being inundated in rain - The salvage yard was positioned opposite a Venusian sea, and being tucked in the mountainside, the moisture from evaporating seawater lead to the almost constant rainfall, with the occasional sunny day bringing a reprieve to the lonely facility.

Perched in the executive office, were three figures - One was that of a Corpus Executive, donning an Opulas robe colored in darkened steel and viridian silvers, twirling a spoon in his cup of tea - Waiting for the other figure to respond, to what was arguably a most ridiculous request.

The other figure piped up, his voice a typical carbon copy as that of his gene-stock,

"So you're saying this, Fortuna Et Ops, isn't just some story told to rile up the foolhardy & daring among you lot? That it isn't some fancy little fairy tale told by drunkards near & far?"

Leaning on his personalized flamethrower, the Faux-Nox, J'kotal was trying to run it through his head what Bansenn Shurn-Hystruc was going on about. Sure, he'd heard about it here and there, the occasional rumor - the rare blasphemous boast - the offhand mention - the idle comparison, but now? Now he was being asked to go pay the damn thing a visit proper.

Bansenn leaned back into the chair, his wizened features easing into a soft smile as he set his cup of Tea back onto the table.

"Correct. Its no mere myth - Back when my greater grandfather was the Executive, we were one of the potential salvage corporations that could have had a go at it. Fortunately for the time, my grandfather had an uncanny ability to tell when something would go poorly - When the whole operation went dark, we were not among those who disappeared along with the station itself."

With a small wave of his hand across the table, Bansenn brought up the salvage yards Cephalon, York - The shape of whom was an aquamarine Torus, albeit shattered down the middle. Inwardly, both figures braced their ears, for York was unfortunate enough to have his voice modulation software damaged in whatever event made him the way he was.

The quiet patter of rain on the windows was suppressed by the booming voice of the Cephalon.
"EXECUTIVE BANSENN HYSTRUC. YOU REQUESTED MY PRESENCE?"

Bansenn quickly cleared his throat, and then motioned to the left-hand side of the office - A mostly dark room that housed a decent holographic suite. Perfect for when the company needed to provide a more in depth explanation of a situation, such as this.

"York, if you wouldn't mind - Could you bring up the data from our survey probes and intelligence operations? I'm going to need to explain the details to our friends here - This is not quite a situation we can afford to pass up, you know?" Bansenn picked up and finished his tea - He always preferred to move about when explaining the run-down of a situation. It got the point across much clearer, he found.

The darkened section of the room lit up with a flash of aquamarine light, before it began to take shape - A representation of the outer planets of the Solar System. As Bansenn walked towards the hologram, numerous yellow blips began appearing around the shadow of Pluto & beyond - A few of these, however, were tinted Red - an indication that usually implies something of a sort happened when the probe got there.

"We caught a trace of a large derelict roughly a month ago - As you all know, Derelicts aren't easy things to find, much less pinpoint - But for the last three weeks York has been working with our navigation team to try and find out what it was. As it turns out, its beyond what we could have imagined."

With another wave of his hand, Bensenn brought up images - They initially had nothing, and their timestamps were at random, at least, until York took the liberty of magnifying the zoom on them - Bringing up a pixelated mess that was vaguely in the shape of a star base. And by no means a small one, either. Even with the buggered details, the group could tell it wasn't something like a derelict Fomorian or defunct Obelisk.
This thing was Huge. Almost mind-bogglingly huge.

The Faux-Nox stood up, walking closer to the display himself - A feeling of wanderlust had gripped J'kotal in the recent years, and there was something...indescribable that seemed to draw his mind constantly to it. He turned to the Executive, an eyebrow raised in contemplation as to whether or not this was a haul-of-a-lifetime or something more threatening.

"And you want me to go poking around in this, This Fortuna Et Ops, Eh?"
"That is correct." Bensenn replied, folding his hands behind his back.
"Then why not send Hemlock over there? You may call me a reliable client, but I'm nothing compared to a Tenno." J'kotal stated, pointing in the direction of the main window - Leaning against it was a Vauban Prime - a mixture of Patinas and Teals, with accents of Copper-Brown.
"Hmm? You have need of me?" The voice echoed out from the Technocyte Golem - Far younger then what most people would expect, but Hemlock had been working with Hystruc for some time now - The people of the company were starting to see him as a common sight.
Bensenn crossed his arms - "Not quite, We need Hemlocks assistance with an, Ahem, Asset Redistribution operation - Besides, J'kotal - You're one of our most reliable surveymen to date. I have no reason not to trust your word on the matter."

J'kotal paused, running the idea through his head a few dozen times, each time it sounded more and more appealing. Riches, Adventure, hell - even the ability to boast conquering the feared derelict just made it seem to good to pass up.
"Allright, I'll do it - Now, this means we've a contract to draft don't we, Executive?" There was a slight fire to J'kotals voice, He was looking forward to this now.
"I'll get to setting it in paper - For the time being, You best make sure your Gox is ready for departure."
"Allright then - I'll get it set for tomorrow."
"Tomorrow?"
"What, you think I was going to piss-off immediately? We haven't even drafted a contract, and its Gumbo night tonight. I'm not missing out on a hearty dinner, now am I?"
"...Fair enough. By then, I'll have it all ready - J'kotal, You're dismissed until further notice - Hemlock, I have a few plans for you to go over for the upcoming operation."
"Acknowledged. Just tell me what you need me to do."

~ Now ~
"This is the Rustbucket to the Nymph Substation - Thanks for the Service."
"You've got a lot of guts, Grineer Dog - Good luck out there." The stay at the Nymph wasn't the worst place he'd been to, to be fair - But he'd gotten a lot of glares and nudges that he wasn't at all that welcome there. The departure was practically dripping with venom at that point.
T'was a wonder they didn't just blast him with the plasma cannons here and now. But as far as he knew about the Corpus, Business was Business, even if it is with people you don't like.

J'kotal turned off his comms tab, and brought the Rustbucket to bear, setting up the latest known co-ordinates of the Fortuna Et Ops.
"Love you too." He muttered sarcastically under his breath.

The rusty Gox was just leaving one of the many sub-stations dotting the outer reaches of Pluto, its fuel cells stocked up and its Void-Punch drive spooled up and ready to go when J'kotal felt something. Something...odd. Reaching for his navigation tab, he began to fiddle with the directions, unaware that his actions were not entirely his own.

Setting himself in his chair, he began flicking dials and safety controls that normally prevented a ship from Punching into the void unprepared, and waited for the final confirmation of readiness, before pulling a red lever and sending his ship hurtling into the void.
He wouldn't seem like it, but inwardly he was anxious, almost giddy even - The prospect seemed thrilling.

He had no idea what he had thrust himself into.

Meep, I hope this is passable - Apologies for the delay, was at College/TAFE/Whatchacallitnowadays

[(PSN)TheCrimsonTuckr]

"I see a potential use for those dropships, maybe a bridge to get in!" A pilot said in one of the 3 dropships, each containing 10 men. One was of course Evon, who still felt they weren't welcome but tried to think about the bright side, the literal bright side; all that possible wealth, gold, weapons, maybe even a weapon of mass destruction to show their true power.

"We'll use the jetpacks to get on that ship, we have enough." Evon said as each Crewman got geared up to fly over to the docking bay. When they were all ready the pilot bay doors shut so the vacuum of space wouldn't suck them out their seats, however the crewmen flew out the ships and flew over to the Docking bay to look for a good landing spot.

[Agent_Maine]

8 hours ago, IrishHades1798 said:

More people? Damn. Kholdor hated large crowds. It was too difficult to discern friend and foe in massive crowds, and Kholdor doesn't even know the faces of these other people. They could be rivals, people allied to aggressive factions or worse, Grineer. Regardless though, he would need to think fast and try to play nice.

"So it would seem, miss. So it would seem." In hopes of getting her to put the gun away and become a potential friend, Kholdor chose to break the tension first. He extended his hand forward and introduced himself. She seemed Corpus aligned at least, so surely she couldn't be all that bad. "My name is Kholdor, and that bag of fleas over there is Sunik. Nice to meet you miss."

 

2 hours ago, (PS4)TheCrimsonTuckr said:

"I see a potential use for those dropships, maybe a bridge to get in!" A pilot said in one of the 3 dropships, each containing 10 men. One was of course Evon, who still felt they weren't welcome but tried to think about the bright side, the literal bright side; all that possible wealth, gold, weapons, maybe even a weapon of mass destruction to show their true power.

"We'll use the jetpacks to get on that ship, we have enough." Evon said as each Crewman got geared up to fly over to the docking bay. When they were all ready the pilot bay doors shut so the vacuum of space wouldn't suck them out their seats, however the crewmen flew out the ships and flew over to the Docking bay to look for a good landing spot.

Bornstella quickly glanced out into space, seeing a large force of Crewman flying towards the docking bay. "No, the Origin Front!" She muttered. Alexis beeped in worry as Bornstella turned to the Human and Kubrow next to her. "Kholdor! My ship is failing, I can't use Comms, and now a large force of Corpus is heading straight here, to the docking bay." She said, charging her Arca Plasmor. She had to be ready. She didn't know why the Origin Front was here - perhaps they were simply searching for treasure. Or perhaps her control freak of a father had ordered them to find her and bring her back to Pluto. Bornstella sighed.

"Any ideas?"

[(PSN)TheCrimsonTuckr]

"I see a hole on the Fortuna, made recently. We should try and go through that!" A crewman suggested. Evon nodded. "Fly over there, and be careful." He said said, the 30 or so Crewmen flew over to the hole and slowly flew into it.

They turned the lights on their helmets when it was too dark.

Edited September 25, 2017 by (PS4)TheCrimsonTuckr
Meme

[WolfmanX9]

After searching the outside of the derelict place for quite some time, Thraks has managed to find two ways to enter; either by one of the docked vessel or by an opening that could be more deadlier than what it looked like. He went for the "safe" option and picked boarding one of the long abandoned vessels to enter the mysterious ship. However, with his radar going haywire for some strange reason, he couldn't get any reading of life signatures, so he had to slowly approach one of the vessel to not draw any attention.

Thanks to his small ship, navigating to one of the vessels was relatively simple with a few bumping on small debris now and then. Once he reached one of the vessels, he tried to find a way to enter the vessel while trying to make few noises as possible. He also had to find a relative safe spot to park his ship so it wouldn't drift into space, who knows if the hangar is still working or not.

Edited September 25, 2017 by WolfmanX9

[vodkacrepper]

Silence, that was the only sound, or lack thereof that was present in the prison Block, no guards to patrol the corridors, no sentries, nothing could be heard as the galleon moved through the space around the wicked space station; but this Silence wasn't to last.

"Von Khrek orders had been sent..."

This was the only sound, a crackling of a radio followed by the voice of the ship's communication officer, the following words would echo through the entirety of the ship, striking mostly doubt in the hearts of the simple lancers aboard.

"...the attack on the Fortuna Et Ops relic starts now, send the ghouls, glory to the kweens"

And after an extremely long sigh the cells bursted into life, each of them now shot as a pod through space, only to collide with the stations hull and try to penetrate it's external layer.

It's exactly inside one of said pods that our group of ghouls is set, spasming around as they shouted in unison.

"Yohoho and a bottle of skoom, Yohoho and a bottle of Skoom!"

Then their pod hit and there was darkness, and after said darkness, the dim light of the emergency lights activated at the same time the pod itself opened, sadly they strayed from the main course, and crashed inside one of the nearby ships... Sadly being the same ship were a certain captain and his crew decided to dock.

Now it was the time of chaos and murder, with each ghoul simply starting to run and wander around aimlessly like zombies searching for prey, with the exception of Hark, he just... Stayed there, looking at his sorrounding and with only the dim light of the pod above him with him.

 

[Daakjenaar]

Frez had his full Crewman's Uniform on, covering him up completely. He held his Dera, both of his arms shaking. He was sweating, not because it was especially warm, but because he was nervous. No, nervous is too mild of a term for this. He was terrified. Every fiber of his being told him this was a bad idea. However, he felt drawn into this place. This could cover him financially for the rest of his life.

His Osprey was directly overhead, the camera pointed in the opposite direction to where Frez was looking. His ship was docked securely, he was sure of that. He wasn't happy about docking with another ship that was, in turn, docked with a derelict station, but it was his only option at the moment. His ship would still be there when he got back, and he would hopefully find some kind of power source here.

Frez set off through the docking port, proceeding to the derelict...

[SpaceHelicopters]

Fudo

A plethora of potential ships to bridge would be available for the pilot to choose from; all of which long defunct and powerless making the whole process rather simple, albeit a bit taxing depending on the ship’s potential power output to operate the external processes. Ships ranging from galleons to freighters, to personal cruisers – suffice to say there would be no shortage of options within his immediate range. As an added bonus, even rudimentary scans would reveal these drydocked vessels to be all but entirely void of life, save some small rodent-like signatures, and a passable, albeit barely so, environment. Not quite functioning life support systems, but more accurately trapped air from a forgotten time.

Kastor

Given the uninviting atmosphere of the “Fortuna’s” docking ring, it would be more accurate to say twenty minutes and change as opposed to a full thirty minutes. Following the markings would take the Tenno on quite the winding journey throughout the docking ring. Quite often, he may lose the trail altogether and be forced to backtrack to pick it back up. They seem to be placed at awkward intervals; no set rhyme or reason and certainly difficult to pick out in the dim lighting of the ring. The trail itself took him through all manner of maintenance hallways, through holes in collapsed walls, and even into the ventilation system at least twice so far.

Though, that isn’t to say Kastor’s quest occurred without incident. Multiple instances of encountering large, roaming groups of humanoid entities; far too many to engage without significant recourse. Working in his favor, however, these masses seemed rather preoccupied with their destination. Moving quickly or simply waiting for the herds to pass should prove sufficient enough to bypass their attention.

After nearly an hour of navigating and close calls, it’s been roughly thirty or so minutes since he would have left the docking ring and moved into the interior hallways leading through maintenance and storage. The scratchings have since led him up to a network of intercrossing catwalks overlooking a massive warehouse. Massive, dust covered cranes on rails long dead lay to rest about like the mighty ribs of some long dead carcass. Far below lies a labyrinth of countless crates of unknown content stacked high upon pallets and industrial shelving reaching even higher than his current elevation.

From atop his lofty perch, he may begin to notice that some of the crates near the back wall seem to have been opened. As if on que, a metallic clatter rings out in their direction followed by what could be assumed to be some form of reprimand given the tone of voice. This high up, so long as he didn’t make any obvious movements, he could perhaps draw near enough to make out appearances, and if he really strained his ears, then he may even be able to pick up speech.

Takar

As distance to the derelict closed, seconds would begin to tick by slower and slower. Weeks, months, years spent meditating in preparation to face the titan force awaiting you with outstretched arms. By the time its whispers reach your ear, you would feel its presence in the room with you. It had been there, perhaps since even the beginning; content to merely watch as you unwittingly spent an entire lifetime in its presence. An eternity of silence passes, the behemoth in the room with you prepared to outlast you in a game of endurance. Stars streak by as celestial bodies wither and a reborn between labored breaths; all the while as the beast remains there across from you, forever unchanging. You die and relive a thousand lives between the deafening beats of your heart before the presence finally calls once more. Time and stars halt as a nostalgic tone soothes your weathered soul, sounding out with such crisp clarity, as though their lips were a hair’s breadth from your ear. She knows this voice intimately, and it understands the far reaches of her consciousness in turn.

A sonorous tone wells up and saturates every corner of the room as the presence envelopes you in a warm and inviting blanket of conversation. Understanding; so deep, visceral, and absolute. It speaks without the intent of being heard, and yet, how could you not? It hurts, and that hurts you. Despite the level of apprehension in your heart, you soon find that against your better judgement, you’re sharing in the discussion. Choice memories, ideals, believes, hopes, dreams; you share them all and come to find a common ground with this entity. Perhaps they aren’t as bad as you had initially believed? Given how forthcoming you’ve been, they’re hardly pressed to provide in turn. All of their fears and insecurities, first loves, wishes for the future. Rather amusingly, it would seem they’re quite the romantic.

They start a story, and your surprised to find you know how it ends. Looking back, you realize that whenever you needed her, she was there. Your bulwark in times of strife, your anchor amidst the storm, there unfailingly when you called her name. Her smile falters a moment and the warm light fades to cold dark. She was there, but, where were you? She gave so much of herself freely, and yet, could you remember a single time you were there for her?

By the time you recover from this intense line of internal questioning, you look to find you’re once again alone in your room. She’s gone, and in her place and crushing shadow of guilt and shame. A part of you aches so badly at her absence; the desire to hold her in your arms and apologize for all the lost time is immense and suffocating. If you reach out, though, you can feel her. You can make this right, you just need to see her again. You just need to go find her.

Irritum Sab

Golden light heralded her return to the waking world, but suffocating dark would not sit idly by as a precious morsel to tantalizingly drifted across its hungry maw. Freed from her crib of flesh and metal, an all-consuming torrent of deafening laughter would rise to smother the past; shattering her memory and casting talons and claws from their remains. A nigh unbearable weight throws itself against her subconscious in hopes that it may crush her will and force her out from the shell that was her body so that it may feast upon the remains.

Her somatic link torn from her clutched hands and cast aside to be consumed by the darkness as reaching tendrils rose to obscure her precious Valkyr from sight. A painful eternity passes before the shadows finally ebb, but their effects leave her extrasensory feelings dulled. And though the shadows have withdrawn, the presence still lingers at her back; watching her every move and waiting to strike the moment her reach extends beyond her physical limits.

J’kotal

And thrilled her would be as the entirety of the mythical “Fortuna et Ops” filled his view-port. Far more massive than the images would have suggested, the entirety of its form rivaling even the largest of Jupiter’s gas cities. Nigh countless ships fill the entirety of its docking ring in a myriad size and make; each long dry-docked and perhaps even holding the promise of treasures themselves. The installation itself, though clearly of Corpus design, matched no designs immediately recognized, and would prove quite the venture in exploring alone. However, given both its obvious grandeur apparent even under the years of age and the legends surrounding it, it was all but certain that there would be credits and renown to be made from this operation.

Frez

The interior of the freighter is dark, save a few stray beams of light leaking in through a nearby window. A thick veil of dust coats nearly every surface; hanging thick in the air and becoming displaced with every step further taken in. Local readings of the environment would show that while there was air present in the ship, it’s sub-optimal and potentially life-threatening for those with compromised immune systems.

Suddenly, a hollow thud rings out in the distance; rattling the floors and walls nearby and disturbing the still settling dust. His HUD suddenly registers an entity nearby, three rooms down. For a moment, the entity is still. Perhaps it was a software glitch? Such a hypothesis is quickly proven incorrect as the entity begins to approach, passing into the next nearest room as the grating sound of a pneumatic door being manually shifted on its rails reverberates out to Frez’s immediate right. Alarmingly, the entity seems to split into seven; multiple icons now fanning out in the next room with the aim of converging on him.

All of this is occurring within a timeframe of mere seconds, offering little opportunity to properly react to what was certain to end in the hapless Crewman’s untimely demise. Sound fills the air about him; fluttering, with an almost metallic resonance. Shadows dart about him and his proxy companion, targets far too small and quick to properly retaliate against. One of the entities grazes his arm, personal shielding registering significant damage nearing almost complete depletion from a single, fleeting moment of contact with one of the demon insects. One flutters right up to his visor and hovers there a moment, almost as though it were appraising him before it veered off to the left, heralding a shower of orange, ember-like particles that completely doused him and his proxy in their entirety.

Frez would suddenly find himself floating despite the artificial gravity of the station; helpless and listing as he and his robotic companion bounded off multiple nearby surfaces. The metal insectoids flitted about him; righting him a moment in his weightless careening as a different, but equally diminutive entity floated up and clutched to his visor. The thing was humanoid, yet possessed small, triangular wings mounted on their lower-rear abdomen. Three bright, burning flames rested in a small halo above its head, illuminating its form and revealing a long blade equal to the entity in size with its point aimed directly over his right eye.

A feminine voice; young, authoritative, and unequal in volume to the tiny humanoid broke the song of the metallic fluttering about him, “Corpus! State your allegiance!” Its tone was demanding; little hand readjusting its grip on its weapon in a show of dominant force as the tip dragged a small but deep groove in his visor.

In the Docking Ring

Shambling forms warped in the shadows of the dimly lit ring; the cries of damned souls wailing out at a volume so great it could shake bowels and rattle teeth. Infested, heading the call to feast stampeded into distant view. Sickly limbs brandishing claws of fragmented bone and chitin reached out hungrily from the dark, desperate to slake their throats, ever parched, with the warm, crimson waters of the still living. They moved as one; their numbers countless as the ever-shifting wave of flesh came careening forth without fatigue or loss of momentum. Some among the horde still brandished arms, firing their payloads aimlessly upon their desired targets in a hail of lead and superheated plasma. Once again, resonating from somewhere with the ranks of the shambling marauders came the thunderous pulse of energy; searing communications devices and bathing technology in the tides of chaos as complex machinery was drowned in a sea of useless language.

The infested were upon them now, and would converge in a mere matter of minutes. Such a force was beyond the capabilities of a few men with guns. If one were to survive such and encounter, they would need the sense of mind to flee away from the violent and churning horde of the damned. Unless one wished to succumb to the crushing void as opposed to the impending wave of violence, very little option remained other than to hide deeper within the hallways of the “Fortuna et Ops”.

[-AoN-CanoLathra-]

"Ordis?"

"Yes, Operator?"

"......Status Report."

"A heavily modified Grineer Ogma arrived, bearing marks of a Venus-based scrapyard. It has entered the derelict. Three Corpus landing craft have almost reached the hull breach. There have been no replies to any attempted radio transmissions."

"Distance to target?"

"We are within deploy range, Operator."

"Good. Deploy archwing."

Takar shot off into space, hitting the afterburners in an attempt to get there as quickly as possible. She could see flashes of light within the gaping hole left within the docking bay. She knew that there was fighting.

She had to get there.

She had to save her new allies.

She had to.....

She had to.....

SHE HAD TO GET CLOSER.

[Ghost333]

"Oh son of a *@##$!" Hexer shouted, immediately going back out the way he came. Hopefully the vacuum of space offered no purchase for their claws. Or, at the very least, he could pick a few off while he scoured the hull for another opening.

His eyepiece buzzed uselessly, grounding resistors built into the device preventing the static from being sent into the brain. He may not have been able to see perfectly for now, but at the very least he wasn't disoriented by his brain literally registering static. Should he find a reprieve from the infested EMP, his suit would tell him he had a little over two hours oxygen before he'd start suffocating.

"@(*()$ hell...where's Clarke when you need him!?"

[Agent_Maine]

15 minutes ago, SpaceHelicopters said:

In the Docking Ring

Shambling forms warped in the shadows of the dimly lit ring; the cries of damned souls wailing out at a volume so great it could shake bowels and rattle teeth. Infested, heading the call to feast stampeded into distant view. Sickly limbs brandishing claws of fragmented bone and chitin reached out hungrily from the dark, desperate to slake their throats, ever parched, with the warm, crimson waters of the still living. They moved as one; their numbers countless as the ever-shifting wave of flesh came careening forth without fatigue or loss of momentum. Some among the horde still brandished arms, firing their payloads aimlessly upon their desired targets in a hail of lead and superheated plasma. Once again, resonating from somewhere with the ranks of the shambling marauders came the thunderous pulse of energy; searing communications devices and bathing technology in the tides of chaos as complex machinery was drowned in a sea of useless language.

The infested were upon them now, and would converge in a mere matter of minutes. Such a force was beyond the capabilities of a few men with guns. If one were to survive such and encounter, they would need the sense of mind to flee away from the violent and churning horde of the damned. Unless one wished to succumb to the crushing void as opposed to the impending wave of violence, very little option remained other than to hide deeper within the hallways of the “Fortuna et Ops”.

Bornstella turned to face the horde of Infested revealing themselves from the innards of the Fortuna et Ops. Arca Plasmor charged up, she quickly glanced at the incoming Origin Front, and then to Kholdor. "Kholdor, we should probably hope that the Origin Front assists us in killing these Infested. Because if they do not, then we'll have problems. A lot of problems." She remarked, a blast from her Arca Plasmor firing at the incoming Infested. Alexis started firing its laser repeater rapidly at the Infested coming closer. She hoped that the Origin Front would help.

Because if they didn't, then Bornstella, Alexis, Kholdor and Sunik would die.

[GrimLandon]

20 minutes ago, SpaceHelicopters said:

 

Kastor

Given the uninviting atmosphere of the “Fortuna’s” docking ring, it would be more accurate to say twenty minutes and change as opposed to a full thirty minutes. Following the markings would take the Tenno on quite the winding journey throughout the docking ring. Quite often, he may lose the trail altogether and be forced to backtrack to pick it back up. They seem to be placed at awkward intervals; no set rhyme or reason and certainly difficult to pick out in the dim lighting of the ring. The trail itself took him through all manner of maintenance hallways, through holes in collapsed walls, and even into the ventilation system at least twice so far.

Though, that isn’t to say Kastor’s quest occurred without incident. Multiple instances of encountering large, roaming groups of humanoid entities; far too many to engage without significant recourse. Working in his favor, however, these masses seemed rather preoccupied with their destination. Moving quickly or simply waiting for the herds to pass should prove sufficient enough to bypass their attention.

After nearly an hour of navigating and close calls, it’s been roughly thirty or so minutes since he would have left the docking ring and moved into the interior hallways leading through maintenance and storage. The scratchings have since led him up to a network of intercrossing catwalks overlooking a massive warehouse. Massive, dust covered cranes on rails long dead lay to rest about like the mighty ribs of some long dead carcass. Far below lies a labyrinth of countless crates of unknown content stacked high upon pallets and industrial shelving reaching even higher than his current elevation.

From atop his lofty perch, he may begin to notice that some of the crates near the back wall seem to have been opened. As if on que, a metallic clatter rings out in their direction followed by what could be assumed to be some form of reprimand given the tone of voice. This high up, so long as he didn’t make any obvious movements, he could perhaps draw near enough to make out appearances, and if he really strained his ears, then he may even be able to pick up speech.

 

Kastor thanked whatever forces may be that let him travel so interrupted. Stealth and silence was never his style nor his expertise, yet the creatures seemed to be preoccupied with something much more important then him. He feared not battle, but he knew the odds. Hordes of these sizes would no doubt be too innumerable to slay. Not only that, he knew not what to expect from this strain. It had already surprised him once, and he would not be caught off guard again. More studying observation would be needed before a engagement. 

Upon hearing the voices, he quickly decided to find a way down and greet them. The way Kastor figured it was there was two scenarios. One, the voices offered no ill will toward him and their collective chances of surviving increased. Two, they are hostile and it is better to deal with them now then later. As he looked for a easy way down, he sent Sluggy to scout the people, get a better understanding of the situation. Once he made his way down, he would approach weapon drawn, planned to be ready for any of the two scenarios. A small part of Kastor hoped they were hostile. The visions had briefly unnerved him, and battle clears the mind like no other method.

[Daakjenaar]

15 minutes ago, SpaceHelicopters said:

Frez

The interior of the freighter is dark, save a few stray beams of light leaking in through a nearby window. A thick veil of dust coats nearly every surface; hanging thick in the air and becoming displaced with every step further taken in. Local readings of the environment would show that while there was air present in the ship, it’s sub-optimal and potentially life-threatening for those with compromised immune systems.

Suddenly, a hollow thud rings out in the distance; rattling the floors and walls nearby and disturbing the still settling dust. His HUD suddenly registers an entity nearby, three rooms down. For a moment, the entity is still. Perhaps it was a software glitch? Such a hypothesis is quickly proven incorrect as the entity begins to approach, passing into the next nearest room as the grating sound of a pneumatic door being manually shifted on its rails reverberates out to Frez’s immediate right. Alarmingly, the entity seems to split into seven; multiple icons now fanning out in the next room with the aim of converging on him.

All of this is occurring within a timeframe of mere seconds, offering little opportunity to properly react to what was certain to end in the hapless Crewman’s untimely demise. Sound fills the air about him; fluttering, with an almost metallic resonance. Shadows dart about him and his proxy companion, targets far too small and quick to properly retaliate against. One of the entities grazes his arm, personal shielding registering significant damage nearing almost complete depletion from a single, fleeting moment of contact with one of the demon insects. One flutters right up to his visor and hovers there a moment, almost as though it were appraising him before it veered off to the left, heralding a shower of orange, ember-like particles that completely doused him and his proxy in their entirety.

Frez would suddenly find himself floating despite the artificial gravity of the station; helpless and listing as he and his robotic companion bounded off multiple nearby surfaces. The metal insectoids flitted about him; righting him a moment in his weightless careening as a different, but equally diminutive entity floated up and clutched to his visor. The thing was humanoid, yet possessed small, triangular wings mounted on their lower-rear abdomen. Three bright, burning flames rested in a small halo above its head, illuminating its form and revealing a long blade equal to the entity in size with its point aimed directly over his right eye.

A feminine voice; young, authoritative, and unequal in volume to the tiny humanoid broke the song of the metallic fluttering about him, “Corpus! State your allegiance!” Its tone was demanding; little hand readjusting its grip on its weapon in a show of dominant force as the tip dragged a small but deep groove in his visor.

"Where am I?! What's going on?!" Was his response. He already sounded like he was crying, clearly panicking. He had dropped his Dera as the attack started, and didn't reach for any of his other weapons.

He didn't respond to the actual question, instead trying (and failing) to ask what was going on. He clearly wasn't expecting this, nor was he prepared for it. His Osprey tried to focus on anything in the room, providing Frez with a live feed of it.

[(PSN)TheCrimsonTuckr]

"Sir! I'm detecting more lifeforms!" A crewman shouted, Evon sighing and cursing to himself. "Where!?" He shouted. "The Docking Ring up ahead!" He shouted.

"Lets get out there then!" He shouted and they flew over to the Docking Ring, seeing the Infested and beginning to fire at them. "Focus fire on the Infested, if anyone else tries to get at us then finish them off too!" Evon commanded, firing at the Infested and killing a few of them with good accuracy 

Edited September 25, 2017 by (PS4)TheCrimsonTuckr

[IrishHades1798]

Ice. That's what ran through is veins. All blood was drained with a cruel and cold ice that left him rigid and frozen.  Never before had he heard such screaming. The sound of old and evil horror the likes of him had never even seen.  He only had one real tactic running through his mind at the sound of this monstrosity.

Run.

When Kholdor gained back his senses, he now looked to see the shambling horror making its way to him and his cohorts. Most of those who arrived had already started to make their way out of the situation, and Kholodr was hopeful to do the same. But that woman was trying to stand her ground!

'This is a good distraction. They'll be busy with her and Sunik and I can make our way out.' He thought. As he began to make his way away though, he noticed Sunik was not with him. The Kubrow was in a guarded stance, hackles raised and barking at the seemingly cohesive moving amalgamation of limbs. He ran back to pull Sunik away but the Kubrow kept barking and growling. It refused to budge. Kholdor understood at that moment his pet was just as scared as he was, and this was his way of handling it. Strapped for ideas, He picked his companion up. But he still could not leave. He couldn't just leave Bornstella behind like this. He moved over to her, put a hand on her shoulder and forced her to turn toward him.

"We need to go, NOW!" He shouted at her. "Everyone else has bailed, we can't fight this..." His voice trailed off as he turned back to see the horror. He peered into it, and felt it stare back. He screamed. "RUN RUN RUN" He shouted as he moved to get as far away as he could.

[Agent_Maine]

1 hour ago, (PS4)TheCrimsonTuckr said:

"Sir! I'm detecting more lifeforms!" A crewman shouted, Evon sighing and cursing to himself. "Where!?" He shouted. "The Docking Ring up ahead!" He shouted.

"Lets get out there then!" He shouted and they flew over to the Docking Ring, seeing the Infested and beginning to fire at them. "Focus fire on the Infested, if anyone else tries to get at us then finish them off too!" Evon commanded, firing at the Infested and killing a few of them with good accuracy 

 

16 minutes ago, IrishHades1798 said:

Ice. That's what ran through is veins. All blood was drained with a cruel and cold ice that left him rigid and frozen.  Never before had he heard such screaming. The sound of old and evil horror the likes of him had never even seen.  He only had one real tactic running through his mind at the sound of this monstrosity.

Run.

When Kholdor gained back his senses, he now looked to see the shambling horror making its way to him and his cohorts. Most of those who arrived had already started to make their way out of the situation, and Kholodr was hopeful to do the same. But that woman was trying to stand her ground!

'This is a good distraction. They'll be busy with her and Sunik and I can make our way out.' He thought. As he began to make his way away though, he noticed Sunik was not with him. The Kubrow was in a guarded stance, hackles raised and barking at the seemingly cohesive moving amalgamation of limbs. He ran back to pull Sunik away but the Kubrow kept barking and growling. It refused to budge. Kholdor understood at that moment his pet was just as scared as he was, and this was his way of handling it. Strapped for ideas, He picked his companion up. But he still could not leave. He couldn't just leave Bornstella behind like this. He moved over to her, put a hand on her shoulder and forced her to turn toward him.

"We need to go, NOW!" He shouted at her. "Everyone else has bailed, we can't fight this..." His voice trailed off as he turned back to see the horror. He peered into it, and felt it stare back. He screamed. "RUN RUN RUN" He shouted as he moved to get as far away as he could.

Bornstella snapped back into reality. She had been a fool - to think she could fight off an Infested horde. She had thought the Origin Front, which had landed in the docking bay, could help her. But they weren't allies. The Corpus were her enemies. Her ship was dead. And now she only had a few allies nearby - Alexis, Kholdor and Sunik. Takar was somewhere - she didn't know where. Bornstella hoped that Takar was okay - and that the Infested hadn't gotten to her. Bornstella turned to Kholdor, nodding. "Alright, let's get out of here!" She agreed.

She motioned for Alexis to follow her, and it did so, beeping worriedly as it watched the Infested and the Origin Front fight to the death. Bornstella followed Kholdor, firing her Arca Plasmor at any Infested which dared to follow the small group. They were heading deeper into the Fortuna et Ops - deeper into the haunted station of death. Bornstella knew that she probably wouldn't survive this. She sighed as she and Alexis followed Kholdor and Sunik. It was now the four of them - going deeper into the belly of the beast.

[WolfmanX9]

When Thraks heard the infested screams, he felt a small amount of fear. He threw out the idea of being silent as he decided to break into the vessel he was currently at by detaching a spectra he had found in a raided corpus outpost. He had a hobby of trying out new weapons that wasn't grineer origin. Were most grineer would struggle to use non-grineer weaponry, Thraks was brave enough to try and most of the time; he figured out how to use them. With the Spectra now in his hand, he used it to create a big enough hole for him to enter, along side his cerebus companion (that had been in standby mode during the trip to the installation).

Edited September 26, 2017 by WolfmanX9

[Arunafeltz]

On 9/25/2017 at 1:06 PM, -AoN-CanoLathra- said:

"Operator, a new ship has shown up. Communications with Bornstella have been terminated, and further attempts are met with static. Also, I am detecting a lot of movement within the target. It would seem the infested have noticed those aboard."

"Open a line of communication with the new vessel, and begin ploting a course for the last know transmission from Bornstella. At 500 meters, deploy Archwing. I'll fly into the crash site from there. Head back out after that. I'll send the Archwing back after I've landed."

 

A ping on his HUD. One of the several unknown vessels in the area was requesting a direct communications channel. The pilot ignored it, whoever they were. He was already closer to the derelicts that he'd ever have liked to be. He had been moving his vessel slowly all the while, hoping to imitate a fragment of drifting debris on the scanners of nearby ships by doing so. But it was evident enough that it had failed, considering that he had been detected and directly contacted despite his cloaking generator. Enough time was spent here. 

Zeroing in on a large, disused Corpus freighter, he guided his vessel to its unloading bay. Gaining access to the door and airlock controls was no problem, but from here the old man would be on his own.

"So this is where we part ways, eh young man?" The old man asked. The sword on his back was now worn securely by his side, and over his mouth was a simple filter mask. The only advice he had been willing to take from his pilot so far.

The pilot ran a finger across a set of controls. The access ramp lowered with a hiss of rushing air, opening the way to the backside airlock of the bridged freighter. "Look out for signs and directions. You'd want to find the boarding area, it should have a ramp that leads to the interior."

The old man chuckled. A high-pitched hyuk hyuk hyuk. "Noted. Thanks again, and fare thee well... friend."

With an agile leap, he was out of the vessel. The ramp rose up and shut behind him. Monitoring the old man, he waited until he was out of the airlock before resealing it so he could exit.

He was not his friend. A friend would not send a friend to die in some forsaken ruin.

[IceDragonofAmber]

It was, that for one fleeting moment, all was right. The world burned, the loved died, and the still wasted, but all was right. Even after the centre happened, and the extremes still occurred the girl had found companions, happiness in a world of ceaseless rage and gilded laughter. The floor a memory but, in fleeting moments, reality of communion in a world burned from spite and golden negligence.

Then the laughter. Cruel, digging laughter, burrowed into her flesh. In a flash of gold, communion gone, replaced with uncertainty, betrayal and regret. Guilt, seeped into her bones, composing her being. The girl, stained red, fading, gone. Lost, uncertain. Unguided, alone. Betrayal, regret, unforgiven. Guilt. Guilt! GUILT!

Sab screamed as she felt jagged hands digging into her brain, scraping, eating. Arms covered herself but still the hands fed, devoured, feasted. Why?! Why did I trust it?! Just made me me weak, vulnerable! Just to destroy, humiliate! A hand burned through the floors plating, a brilliant white blinding the senses, the Valkyr's teeth bared.

Lies, it was all LIES! Why, why should she believe, regret, when all it did was this!! Life, UNWORTHY! WHY DO THEY DESERVE?! WHEN ALL THEY DO IS-

"Beep"

Sab blinked, snapping back to her plane of reality. Above her the Carrier floated, slightly diagonal, as if inquisitive to a mildly unusual event that'd just occurred. Panting, and still clutching her aching head the Tenno struggled to her feet, being forced to use the nearby wall as a means of support. Her legs shook, and her breaths were rapid, it was a miracle she could so much as stand.

"Greed..." The voice was rasped, dry, coughing as it spoke for the first time in recorded history. "My frame, wh-where-" The Tenno coughed and fell to the floor, her atrophied limbs shaking from the  exertion. "Frame..." She wheezed from the ground. "M-My Warframe..."

The Carrier weighed the potential benefits of charging Sab for its services, determined a Void Beam would still disassemble it at the molecular level and promptly projected a light that attempted to pierce the shadows that surrounded them, searching for that which could put Sab's shattered mind to ease.

[(PSN)TheCrimsonTuckr]

"Keep firing!" A crewman ordered out loud, as Dera rounds flew into the wave of Infested. The noise was near deafening, however the helmets helped with everyone not becoming deaf as soon as they started firing.

Evon fired relentlessly into the beasts, and occasionally took out his Prova and smashing Infested that got to close to him. "We might need to retreat somewhere! There's too many for us to handle!" He shouted out, still concentrating on shooting.

[InfiniumV]

23 hours ago, SpaceHelicopters said:

J’kotal

And thrilled he would be as the entirety of the mythical “Fortuna et Ops” filled his view-port. Far more massive than the images would have suggested, the entirety of its form rivaling even the largest of Jupiter’s gas cities. Nigh countless ships fill the entirety of its docking ring in a myriad size and make; each long dry-docked and perhaps even holding the promise of treasures themselves. The installation itself, though clearly of Corpus design, matched no designs immediately recognized, and would prove quite the venture in exploring alone. However, given both its obvious grandeur apparent even under the years of age and the legends surrounding it, it was all but certain that there would be credits and renown to be made from this operation.

"...Well, they certainly weren't lying."

Just through the Rustbuckets preliminary sensor readings alone, the instillation was massive - The titanic station, born of greed and steel easily was larger than the Salvage yard - Likely even larger than the mountain it was fastened to. Heck, it was likely bigger than those gas-cities that hovered within the habitable zones of Jupiters atmosphere.

"Warning - Exiting Void Fold - T Minus, Five - Four - Three -"

With a grunt of acknowledgment, J'kotal gripped the edge of the control console, and made sure he was as securely positioned as possible.
Sure, he was in a Nox-Class suit of armor, but when you're exiting a Void-Punch every little bit counts between able to walk around a bit, and hurling up whatever you ate for breakfast, dinner or what-have you-eaten that day.
Still though, like most people, J'kotal hated the exit part.

" - Two - One - Zero - Exiting Void Fold"

With a rush of teals and blacks, the rushing entirety of the world in front of the Rustbucket seemed to cease "stretching" and pull backwards into a normal aspect ratio - That being said, the Fortuna Et Ops finally was finally revealed to J'kotal. Well, after he managed to prevent himself from chucking up his breakfast. Once he stopped his fit of coughing and dry-retching, he turned his view to the main window, and the sensor readings.

There was a few things that were immediately visible, it seemed.
First, as for the station itself, The damn thing was absolutely Massive - All around its superstructure was some form of docking ring - That separate structure alone was covered in starships of varying make in the same way a plant stem can be covered in parasitic insects - If J'kotal wanted to go in there, He knew he'd have one - No, maybe two options, because the stations docking apparatus was stuffed to capacity, he would have to dock with one of the docked vessels and use it as a bridge.

The other option? Something happened here, and one of the myriad Corpus ships had a shattered hanger, and looked like it had been the victim of a fabulous dynamic entry. It also brought attention to the second most notable thing about this place. J'kotal had company, it seemed.
Lots of Company.

 There were numerous sensor pings, indicative that the local space had active visitors - J'kotal was close enough to the station that if he strained his eyes, he could make out the many figures swarming the exposed hanger. But no, His attention was on one of the two, fairly large vessels hanging around in the local area.

The larger of the two ships was an imposing vessel - Likely a Cruiser or larger vessel, and it had the tell-tale markings of the Origin Front - A large Corpus paramilitary group - If they were here, then by all means he was in a fair bit of trouble! Not only were they becoming infamous for their mean-streak and pragmatism, but he'd just gone and announced his presence by punching out of the Void-Fold.
 
The second one was a smaller ship - This was probably a destroyer, but its war-paint and logo were not ones that J'kotal were familiar with, either because they were new to the aspect of being a paramilitary group, which was unlikely, or they were keen enough to cover their tracks when they went about their duty.
The Destroyer had all manner of minor damage - A tell tale scarring that bespoke experience in battle. This one was seemingly well equipped, and it was giving the station a wide berth - Another tell tale sign that this group had a keen idea what it was doing out here,

Though as much as he'd like to look at the scene as it unfolded, J'kotal knew he'd just announced his presence just by showing up - Only larger, dedicated vessels could subsume their void-echo as they dropped out of the fold, Smaller ships like his Gox had to let it flow forward like a small tidal wave of pure-screw-up. This was the moment that J'kotal decided to gun it - Grappling with the maneuver gear, the Rustbucket would lurch forward in a frantic burst of speed, its pilot trying to close the distance between him, the monstrous station and the behemoth that was probably eyeing him down with a plasma cannon or twelve.

As the Gox raced towards the Fortuna Et Ops, J'kotal began tucking & weaving as he went - Even if nothing fired upon him, he wanted to be safe rather than sorry - And to that end, he also set in his sights where he wanted to land - On the right section of the docking ring, snugly fitted in between a galleon and a larger Corpus ship, was a medium sized freighter - likely a cargo shipment, either to or from the station while it was in its heyday.

And so it was that the Rustbucket and its pilot sealed their fates.
But truth be told, it was already sealed the moment J'kotal heard the name of the lost, damned station, long before he departed on the cursed journey.

Edited September 26, 2017 by InfiniumV
Ghost333's Arbelest Union not given enough attention.

[-AoN-CanoLathra-]

3 minutes ago, (PS4)TheCrimsonTuckr said:

"Keep firing!" A crewman ordered out loud, as Dera rounds flew into the wave of Infested. The noise was near deafening, however the helmets helped with everyone not becoming deaf as soon as they started firing.

Evon fired relentlessly into the beasts, and occasionally took out his Prova and smashing Infested that got to close to him. "We might need to retreat somewhere! There's too many for us to handle!" He shouted out, still concentrating on shooting.

As Takar grew closer, she realized she could not see Bornstella or Kholdor anywhere. What she did see was Origin Front fighting valiantly against the rushing tide of Infested.

Hoping that the mercenaries could understand that the Infested were the far greater threat, she swooped in just behind them, her archwing detaching and returning to the orbiter. She quickly pulled her Arca Plasmor off her back and began jumping into the air to rain death upon the infested from above. During one leap, she used her meager energy reserves to activate her Metronome, hoping it could bolster the mercenaries below.

If only I could activate my Amp field as well, Takar thought, but I just don't have the energy reserves.

Just then, another interference wave jolted through her, removing what little energy she had left, and scrambling her HUD.

Well, this has gone from bad to worse. Were is Bornstella?

[Agent_Maine]

7 minutes ago, -AoN-CanoLathra- said:

As Takar grew closer, she realized she could not see Bornstella or Kholdor anywhere. What she did see was Origin Front fighting valiantly against the rushing tide of Infested.

Hoping that the mercenaries could understand that the Infested were the far greater threat, she swooped in just behind them, her archwing detaching and returning to the orbiter. She quickly pulled her Arca Plasmor off her back and began jumping into the air to rain death upon the infested from above. During one leap, she used her meager energy reserves to activate her Metronome, hoping it could bolster the mercenaries below.

If only I could activate my Amp field as well, Takar thought, but I just don't have the energy reserves.

Just then, another interference wave jolted through her, removing what little energy she had left, and scrambling her HUD.

Well, this has gone from bad to worse. Were is Bornstella?

The only sign of Bornstella Takar would be able to see was a trail of dead Infested leading further into the Fortuna et Ops, each Infested showing large signs of radioactive blasts from a large weapon - oddly similar to the currently wielded weapon of Takar herself. However, these bodies were far from the main Infested force which was fighting the Origin Front - obviously Bornstella had fled further into the Fortuna et Ops, and had killed any Infested that had dared to follow.

Edited September 26, 2017 by Agent_Maine

[SpaceHelicopters]

Takar

Aim. Fire. Rack. Turn. Fire. Dodge. Rack. Repeat. Each motion played in synchronous beat as the maestro on her center plinth raised her wand to coax a symphony of death amidst this epicenter of chaotic sound. The steady beat of percussive plasma fire at her back set the tempo for her work; however long it may be before it potentially turned against her, that is. Gaining no ground despite overwhelming numbers, the crowd before her roared in cacophonous displeasure as they tore forward with greater fervor.

As Takar leveled her weapon on another of the shambling mass, the image in her crosshairs shifted. Suddenly, the battlefield wasn’t as it was a moment ago; reverting to another time long forgotten. Warm light envelopes her form as a rallying cry echoes out at her front. Every entity about her radiates soft light, obscuring their forms but failing to prevent her from identifying friend versus foe in this instant.

A ramshackle gathering of earnest souls, trying their damndest to protect their home from the marauding force Takar had just broken from behind. Though they had the numbers advantage, the enemy possessed greater weaponry and superior training. However, their opponent had not foreseen the appearance of a warrior god, and were beginning to falter where the people’s faith had been bolstered. They called to their heroine, lauding her entrance and heaping thanks upon her. It would be nice to bask a moment in their gratitude a moment; but Takar was needed elsewhere. She could still hear her calling, further past these people on another battlefield altogether. The people here would win thanks to her intervention alone. She could and should move on to more pressing matters…

To any outsider watching, it would appear as though the infested gathered had suddenly ceased to bear an interest in the Warframe amidst the field; even going so far as to part their numbers to allow her passage through.

Hexer

Though his earpiece would remain fried, and potentially smoking given the environment in his suit, the effects of the electrostatic pulse would fade over the course of a few moments. Given his proximity at the beginning of the undead incursion, few if any of the marauding corpses would have had an interest in the General; and even those that did would quickly abandon him for the more readily available prey before them.

Depending on the chosen length of his spacewalk, multiple alternate options of entry would lay bare before him. Though there was always the prospect of returning to the gap in the docking ring and facing the merciless forces of hunger incarnate, there were also a number of vessels within walking distance to breach and bridge. Should he be more interested in seeking out a more direct entry into the “Fortuna” herself, roughly an hour of thoughtful scouring of the surface at his feet would reveal a structural weakness he certainly could take advantage of: a long defunct exhaust vent, probably used to vent useless gas-based biproducts of the station’s massive life-support system. However, there wouldn’t be any indication of where this short-cut might place him, and given the means with which he’d be entering, it may not be the most discreet of affairs should Lady Luck prove engaged in prior affairs.

Kastor

Upon approach, the affectionately named wyrm ‘Sluggy’ would be able to clearly make out the words spoken and identify the voices as male Grineer. Two, to be specific.

“-find us? This was supposed to be the easy job; just stay quiet! Ooof!”

“If they didn’t hear us before, they’ll definitely hear you!”

“Grrr… Out of everyone back home, why did I have to get paired with you?”

“Go off yourself. Were I not here, you wouldn’t have been able to get half as many of these crates open, lazy skoom.”

“At least the ones I did get open would probably have more than just tech-junk in them! You only want to go after the big crates! You realiz – Oof! WOULD YOU ST – Ufah!”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up! I’ll kill you myself before I let them tear me apart!”

In terms of getting down from his current position, multiple shelves were readily available nearby and looked relatively stable enough to climb down from. Then again, there was also the option to just leap over the railing and let gravity do the work for him. That said, given the maze-like construction of catwalks, it may not be so easy to relocate his given trail should he abandon it now.

Evon & the Origin Front

Though the corpus fought valiantly, for each infested felled, there rose another legion to replace it. Even this short an offensive hadn’t come without significant casualties; the return fire from those armed infested, though not near as accurate, rolled forth in a torrential rain of plasma, bullets, and venomous quills that tore through all manner of defenses through sheer quantity. Even then, the oppressive wave of ravenous hunger would not be stopped even by the piling corpses of their fallen brethren; clambering over them without even a second’s thought as they reached out with their claws and teeth to tear flesh from bone.

You wouldn’t have to be the captain of a paramilitary group to know that 30 men and falling was no match for 200 undead and mounting. For such a great man as Evon, to fall here would surrender his name to the wall of failed fools. Better to live and fight another day, and though surrounded, there was certainly a way for him to make it out of this one alive. He was the most important man there, after all; what crewman wouldn’t consider it an honor to die for his commanding officer?

Bornstella, Kholdor, & Gang

Though some infested did break for the fleeing party, not many chose to give chase over the noisier meal. Regardless, those that did pursue put up a valiant effort; storming after the group at a fevered, unbreaking pace with erratic movements. The labyrinthine bowels of the maintenance hallways certainly don’t make the flee easier or any more elegant. Collapsed hallways, floor grating weakened by years of entropy, fallen supports, unpowered doors, pitch darkness; all of these at nearly every turn and stretch, making it exceedingly difficult to keep a steady lead against the gnashing teeth and reaching claws of the untiring horde.

The only time a proper reprieve is granted is after nearly twenty minutes of undisturbed running leads the group to a darkened t-intersection. The left and right paths are made inaccessible by a collapsed ceiling and pitfall too long to jump respectively. It would seem that they’ve lost sight of the shambling corpses, but their hunting cries can still be softly heard in the distance. So long as they didn’t make any sudden, loud noises, they should be able to stop a moment and catch their breaths. Communications would still be fried, but other than that, all non-electronically-fatal effects of the electrostatic pulses suffered earlier would have faded. On the bright side, however, thoughtful inspections of their surroundings would eventually reveal that so long as they could find a way to reach it, their existed an entrance into the ventilation system that could get them through this dead-end. With that said, there are no guarantees that what could be found on the other side would be any safer…

Drydocked Corpus Freighter

The small humanoid loosed a sound of derision at the bumbling Corpus, pushing away from his visor as several of the metal insectoids fluttered in and out of his field of view. Gravity once again took hold over his body as he came crashing down all of three feet; landing prone as a full-sized foot comes to rest atop his proxy companion to prevent it from rising of its own volition. A curved blade, this one not as small as the last, is immediately thrust just below his visor where his throat would be. A hair’s breadth was all that lay between life and death as the blade slowly tilted upwards, drawing the crewman’s attention to an enlarged version of the diminutive humanoid that had just been accosting his face.

“I haven’t the time to play games,” the metallic insect harboring woman spat, her full form towering a good foot over even his standing height. “I will ask you once more: friend, or foe?” Her voice resonates clearly, conveying a tone of grim pragmatism that makes the consequences of this all-important question apparent.

At that moment, a series of gentle vibrations rocked the drydocked vessel as two ships, blind to the appearance of one another, came to rest at their ports of choice. Lacking power, security would prove no issue; merely whether or not the respective vessels possessed power-reserves capable of operating the necessary procedures in lieu of the freighter’s long dead reactor.

A certain old man would find himself exiting relatively close to the action currently occurring on the ship; about four rooms down to be exact. Given the rather still and quiet nature of this decrepit vessel, he would find no issue finding those nearest him even without a state-of-the-art HUD. And perhaps if his aged ears hadn’t come to fail him yet, he might make out the gentle sound of fluttering in the air; a noise no doubt familiar given his experience with the fauna of Earth.

J’kotal, on the other hand would find himself disembarking two floors down in the ship’s primary cargo hold. Oxygen would be a bit thinner down there, however given the thick layers of dust coating every crate, it would seem no one has yet to plumb the contents of this particular freighter. In the event he should not indulge himself in the remains of this long-dormant ship, he would come to find the unpowered lift that led into the cargo area his first obstacle to overcome. A humble first step, but one that would need to be overcome nonetheless.

Sab

Greed would find no difficulty in locating Sab’s coveted Warframe, though should the proxy be capable of worry for its ‘master’ (such a tricky term), it may come to do as such given that the Valkyr was still there beside her. Untouched; save for the self-inflicted and previous damage already suffered.

Given ample time to recover to the best of her ability among the fetid, stale air of the “Fortuna’s” docking ring, Irritum would come to find that through the course of her nightmare, she had managed to navigate the insides of the Grineer Galleon she’d docked with and was now currently resting at the threshold of where the two meet. Though the dim light of distant stars spilling in does little to properly illuminate the area, what she could make out revealed long stretches of metal flooring that stretch out to her left and right as far as she can see. An aged and decrepit wall littered with a series of entrances leading into various branching hallways lay roughly a hundred meters away. The idle sounds of entropy ring out in the cacophonous area without discernible source; ranging from metallic groans, dull impacts, and the odd, faint shriek that may or may not be organic in nature. For the time being, the only thing hostile seems to be the odd, jagged shadow played against the walls and floors; though given the overall atmosphere of this place, it would seem that minor tidbit could change at the drop of an especially heavy and noisy hat.

Edited September 27, 2017 by SpaceHelicopters

[IrishHades1798]

Kholdor collapsed on his knees after he felt sure he and his party were safe. He could feel his chest pounding and his legs were numb for the intense running. Feeling an unbearable pain, he gave in and regurgitated and food or drink he had prior to this unexpected sprint. He could hardly think straight, and flipped over onto his back, resting up against a nearby wall. Sunik, who was well built for intense runs and pursuits, was panting intensely next to his master, occasionally taking a moment to swallow excess saliva and lick its lips.

After a moment, he looked over to his new partner in horror. "I think they gave up for now. I don't know about you, but I could really use a breather." Feeling another imminent expulsion of his stomach, he took amount to steel himself and keep it down. He managed, but barely and with rather pungent burps. 

"Damn it!" He cursed. "The air is too damn thin, I can hardly breathe."