[IC] Siren's Call

[Ghost333]

2 minutes ago, SpaceHelicopters said:

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.

 

From where Hexer stood, he had three options.
One: Go back into the hangar with naught but a slow-firing railgun and a weak machine pistol versus a horde of teeming flesh that would make a certain Ancestor be thankful a certain mass of fetid caves and narrows was sufficient to contain the abominations he had wrought.

Two: Wander around for at least two hours and pray he could find something to get into so he could work on possibly jury rigging a communicator, or possibly repairing his own busted eyepiece.

Third and finally: simply suffocate and die. With the appendix of removing his helmet and exposing himself suddenly and painfully to a vacuum until he froze and boiled at the same time over the course of several agonizing seconds.

Given that there were additional ships docked, and that surely the Infestation can't have all of them breached, he decided to take the second one. Lining himself up, he disengaged the magnetic lock on his boots and jumped towards the furthermost ship he could see still docked - a Corpus vessel of some kind, with a thankfully visible airlock. Should be half an hour before he arrived, he reckoned. Maybe less if he didn't feel conservative with his ammo.

[Agent_Maine]

23 minutes ago, SpaceHelicopters said:

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…

 

10 minutes ago, IrishHades1798 said:

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."

Bornstella collapsed against the wall, alongside Kholdor. She could feel her heart pounding - they had managed to escape the Infestation. For now. She was lucky; her armor granted her oxygen so the thin air was not a problem for her. However, she was much more tired than she would have liked to say - running for such a long amount of time meant that she needed a good rest. Alexis floated alongside Bornstellla, beeping worriedly. She glanced to Kholdor. "We have to be quiet. One wrong noise and we'll bring the whole Infestation down on us." She managed to say, taking deep breaths to regain her composure. Bornstella sighed. "Honestly, what the f*ck is this place." She said. "It's like a nightmare."

[Daakjenaar]

48 minutes ago, SpaceHelicopters said:

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.

"Uh... Friend?" He managed to say after a few more moments of panic, which included sentences such as "OhmygodnoIjustwanttoliiiiive!" And "Pleasepleaseplease nononononono don't kill me!"

His Osprey struggled to get off the ground, not realizing the struggle was futile. It also moved the attached camera around, looking at the limited field of vision. It found the dropped Dera, and locked the camera onto it for a few seconds, showing Frez where it had fallen. It was within arm's reach, but Frez would almost certainly be killed reaching for it.

[GrimLandon]

46 minutes ago, SpaceHelicopters said:

 

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.

 

Grineer, of course its damnable Grineer. He couldn't count on the small chance that they were Steel Meridian, especially given their jargon. Wherever there is profit or conquest, the Grinner are there. His contempt for the queen's lackeys  is second only to the Orokin, and he would be happy to send a couple more to the grave.  He thought about jumping down in a unpractical fashion and giving some kind of greeting, immediately giving away his position as opposed to using the element of surprise. But who would do that? No, he still had a job to do. Not only that, but he would have to go looking for Takar. He hoped she instead had just stayed off derelict, but the odds of that were slim. More then likely she landed somewhere else. He would need to rendezvous with her as well after exploring for a bit. Giving the matters at hand. he decided to continue to follow the trail.

As he moved down the path, he takes a moment to try and repair his comms. Not stopping, its mostly looking at diagnostic information and deciding how feasible it is to repair it. If he could at least get short range comms working, then he could start send communications to Takar or anyone else. 

"For now, its just me and you Sluggy" Kastor said with a slight grin. Sluggy give some elated beeps and boops as they moved further down the trail. Despite the relative comfort, Kastor did not let his guard down. First a horde of infested, now apparently some Grineer scavengers. This had certainly turned into a more interesting mission then he could have hoped for.

"At least it's a target rich environment, eh friend?" Kastor said looking over to his faithful bot. 

 

[GrimLandon]

-

Edited September 27, 2017 by GrimLandon

[vodkacrepper]

He was standing inside that room for a good half an hour, it looked almost catatonic, with no signs of life protruding from the Ghoul, but this wasn't anything new for Thrak, he "shut down" all senses except sound, trying to decipher any sign of life inside that Corpus freighter, each minute passed silently as the rest of the ghouls went on to move inside the Station itself, leaving Hark finally alone, until he could hear it, movement!, it came from two directions, one was from the docking ports of the ship, and its echoes were too loud to be just one living being, meanwhile...  down, there was something else down.

"Let's pay a visit, yes... a visit"

And left, right, left, right, the Grineer started moving toward the first source of sound, and after some minutes, he could see them in-between the fading lights of the powered down ship, problem was, they both could see his eyes too if they paid enough attention, two bright, burning dots in the darkness of a hallway.

[InfiniumV]

7 hours ago, SpaceHelicopters said:

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.

Considering he may have made a fool of himself by ducking and weaving in an attempt to navigate around imaginative plasma cannon bolts, At least he was still in one piece, and not scattered atoms and molten slag.
Letting loose a relieved sigh, J'kotal turned his attention fully to the Corpus Freighter. The vessel was completely intact, and considering its condition, it only recently received visitors - The ship itself wasn't hard to navigate, so to that end J'kotal began trying to locate the ships primary cargo bay. Best place to start diggin' for shiny bits and equipment, if it wasn't a little obvious from the start.

As the Rustbucket hovered around to the posterior of the ship, it leveled its laser-based armament, before J'kotal decided against it - Sure, he'd get 'comparatively' easy entry, but he would also attract anything that happened to be living on board by virtue of the enormous racket of 'I'm-sawing-through-this-wall-like-a-twat', and promptly get molested by infested.
J'kotal didn't want to get molested. Especially by the Infested.

Bringing the Gox to bear around the left-most side of the Cargo bay, he began the process of anchoring the Rustbucket to the superstructure - The large craft made its belly parallel to the Freighter, he set the Rustbucket down, before flicking an orange switch next to the Void-Drive controls - As a response, Four hook like protusions on the corners of the Gox snapped downwards, fastening the ship to the Freighter.
Anyone with decent hearing would have heard a distant Thunk as it did so - It would likely be louder the closer one was to the landing site.

Getting up from the chair, he began to prepare for exo-atmospheric operations - The emergency exits could, and often were used as impromptu entry points as well - be it by pirates, mechanics, or Tenno. He found out about the last one after discovering the signature aftermath of a Tenno during one of his forays. But the less said about that small incident, the better.
Grabbing his trusty Sydon, he affixed it to his right backholster - His Cycron, to his left hip - His flamethrower, to the left backholster. A roll of Duct tape, to his right hip. As for his armor, well, he was already wearing it - But for safeties sake, he double checked to make sure it was on securely, and that its environmental detectors weren't on the fritz.

With everything in order, he was just about to leave the Rustbucket proper, before he remembered that he was missing an item - Hurrying back, he shuffled through the random shelves of junk until he found a roughly-arm-sized cylindrical container, with a few bits & bobs sticking out of it. Pulling a small little lever at the top of the cylinder, it revealed its purpose as little more than an advanced porta-plant-pot - Its charge, was a tiny sapling, A mulberry, free from any form of tampering - Orokin or otherwise. But to J'kotal, it was a gift for a job done well, back from when he still had his old Bombard gear. It brought a small smile to his weathered face, and memories of the good times when he was still a small-time guardsman.

Putting it in his lower spine holster, this time he was able to leave proper - Stepping up to the right wall of the Rustbucket, J'kotal tapped in the detach codes - In response, a thin energy screen was projected to where the wall once 'stood', as it slid backwards - The way was open now.
With a short hop, J'kotal was in open space before the suits maglev boots began to pull the Grineer to the superstructure of the freighter.
Moving towards the emergency exit, he took the liberty of looking around - One advantage of Nox-Class armor is that you have an excellent field of vision - And this was one of the times where the sense of scale became apparent to him.

He was an Ant in regards to scale - Every vessel was titanic in proportion to him, and the Fortuna et Ops made such vessels look like flies in comparison. The Corpus certainly didn't skimp on funding this titanic construct. Though, another thing caught his eye. Turning towards the Docking Ring, he noticed that some of these vessels had been visibly rammed with pods of a sort - He was familiar with the typical boarding capsules that Grineer Galleons utilized, but these looked...different, for lack of a better word - More crude, more expenda -
"Eh?"
J'kotal had unwittingly caught a glimpse of the General, more or less a gray-green splotch the size of a balled fist, hovering through the void to orokin-knows-where. Unwilling to be seen as just another contentious space prick, he threw the distant figure a wave. Whether he'd actually see the Grineer waving at him would be entirely dependent on circumstance, but for now J'kotal had a job to see to.
Walking up to the console, it was a simple cipher lock, one that J'kotal had plenty of experience in cracking open. These ones were especially simple - Merely there to make sure that the airlock wasn't accidentally opened and the resulting depressurization accident didn't waste any of the personnel or goods present in the hold.

There was a barely audible echo of a hiss as the door slid open on the rails, allowing the lumbering giant to enter the Freighter proper when another echo was heard. A distant Thunk, but it heralded doom for J'kotal who by reflex just lunged for the open door. By the time he reached the frame, he had managed to turn somewhat around and witnessed the Rustbucket abruptly disengage its landing hooks and begin takeoff procedure.
And by begin takeoff procedure, that means lurching forward full thrust, as if something just usurped control from the ship and sent it careening off into the distance. Pretty poorly too, as the poor sot watched his precious ship fly off to...Somewhere, its flight pattern was so erratic that it was more akin to a malfunctioning missile than a spacecraft, and it haphazardly disappeared underneath the docking ring.

J'kotal was just lying in the doorway slack-jawed. Nevermind that his normal ticket out of hell-holes had just disappeared, Nevermind that his closest equivalent to home had just buggered off to the arse end of nowhere, he was trying to process just WHY it did so. Gox Class craft were piloted, not autonomous! He was so utterly stupefied that he didn't acknowledge that the airlock door was closing on him. It eventually did so, the hiss off air rushing into the now vacuum sealed room did little to stir the Grineer from his stunned state. Only the sound of the opposite door opening brought him back to the real world, as the reality of the situation had dawned upon him.

Pulling himself together, he got up, straitened his posture, and began to venture into the cargo bay. Well, first things first, it was dark. Very dark. Ominously dark. Worse still, his environmental monitor was alerting him to a thinned atmosphere - The stale air would not only taste of mouldy arses, but it would seriously impact the effectiveness of his flamethrower. To that end, he had his other weapons - Half-handing his Sydon in the right-hand, and the Cycron in his left, J'kotal began exploring the mostly empty bay.

He instinctively went to get an idea of his surroundings - Notably, most of the cargo-boxes were unopened - just sitting there, ripe for the taking. But when you don't have a means of cargo transport, salvage becomes the least of your concerns - But still, he made a mental note to check their contents later. Even though he had managed to get his weapons modded for Ammo-Recycling, or independence in the case of the Sydon & Cycron, he still had limited supplies and no major rations on his person - He never anticipated the situation going as balls up as it did.

Now moving around the hanger, taking care to be as quiet as a lumbering giant of steel, cloned flesh and weapons could possibly be, he began looking around the cargo bay for means of leaving it. For the most part, the myriad of entryways seemed unresponsive or locked. Save one.
The Elevator at the back of the room was empty, but the gentle yellow light emanating from the console bespoke a potentially operable console.
But without any visible ways to open the thing, J'kotal was stuck for the time being.
With a small huff, he turned his attention once again to the containers - May as well see what they have on them while he's here, heck - he might even find a way to turn that elevator back on again.


 

[Ghost333]

Unfortunately for the surprisingly polite can of mouldy potatoes that had somehow achieved at the very least sentience if not the barest measures of sapience (at least where the system at large was concerned), Hexer did not see J'kotal's wave as he was focused entirely on the ship in front of him.

Probably a bad idea. Meant he could be blindsided by something. Like a Juggernaut charging out a window into the void by accident.

[WolfmanX9]

Minutes later, Thraks had cut a big enough hole for him to enter the vessel. He reattached the spectra to his shield Dargyn, turned on his carabus companion to then kick the cut wall of the ship open and enter the ship. When he was inside, he saw that the ship was corpus with smooth looking walls, square themed room with a high tech design that you couldn't miss (unless you were blind). Carabus did a quick scan for any life signatures, but it seemed to have failed that task as the radar seemed to be damaged before they came here.

"So much for that scan" he thought with a sigh, but he wouldn't let a failed scan discourage him from exploring the ship. Who knows, maybe he could find some supplies for the journey while he was in the ship that weren't rotten or rusted to the point of being useless. However, before he started his search, he checked his pouches to see if his stuff was still there, including his limited ration. He was relieved to find that they were still with him and all of his weapons was still on him (which is Buzlok, Kraken and Jat Kusar).

[Arunafeltz]

11 hours ago, SpaceHelicopters said:

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.

The airlock doors sealed shut behind him, just moments before he felt the soft reverberations through the walls of the old, crumbling freighter. The old man may have lived near his whole life in the forests of Earth, but could figure for himself that the disturbances were unlikely to be the ship's unseen machinery. With failed lighting and air that tasted like a dry ravine, he highly doubted the vessel's reactor was even still operational, let alone its life support systems. Likely it was that he was not the only new arrival. But with the next few steps he took, he felt more like an intruder than ever. The ambient noise that hung in the air, the fluttering - or buzzing, of wings? It was out of place enough that the old man was unnerved, if only slightly. But that wasn't all his old senses were picking up.

What was his friend's parting advice? To find the boarding area, where there'd very likely be a ramp that may or may not already be lowered for him to use. A sound plan, but at the moment there sounded like some movement in the path ahead, several rooms down. Normally he'd have minded his own business, given the uncertainty of his situation. But the overwhelming sense of caution that had kept him alive for so long was giving way to sheer curiousity, and an odd desire to explore that he had not felt in decades. How strange.

With a sweep of his cloak, the old man set off down the path ahead, the fluttering noises - now immediately identifiable as large insect wings, intensifying and echoing off the walls. That was not right, considering he was in a disused Corpus freighter. It was only when he heard a cold voice, tinged with contempt or perhaps desperation - that he broke into a run, deliberately slapping the soles of his fiber sandals upon the hard floor to forewarn his approach. Instinct told him that someone was in trouble, and personal safety aside - it was upon what remained of his honour that he would lend his aid.

Edited September 27, 2017 by Arunafeltz

[SpaceHelicopters]

Worthington

The sounds of an ancient Earth opera would be practically audible as General James Edgar Worthington continued his waltz among the stars; careening forth as his momentum remained constant on a course for the exposed rear airlock of a Corpus Plinth Class Cargo Hauler. By the looks of it, the ship’s cargo containers had broken away and floated off to void knows where, void knows how long ago. The absence significantly lessens the vessel’s size, meaning that passage through would be rather short lived and uneventful, however its distance from the rabble at the breach would be more than enough to promise a diminished chance of coming across any hapless undead.

As is beginning to be expected of all these drydocked ships, the hauler itself is dry on power and has most likely been as such for quite some time. Bypassing the sealed airlock wouldn’t so much be an issue of security, but one of creative leverage (or perhaps superior force). Whatever means the general may find through, over, or under the door, the insides of the metal beast at his mercy would prove cozy and claustrophobic. Moreover one large room rather than a proper quarters, he would be flanked at either side with a total of four beds set into the walls alongside a matching number of lockers. Investigation of their contents would reveal little more than long expired rations, moth eaten clothing, and a series of personal effects ranging from image projectors containing stills of assumed family members to several noggles of discontinued Index combatants.

In the center of the room sits a toggleable table beset by retractable benches; all locked in the raised position and consuming nearly 60% of the areas free space. A nook to the right houses a well-worn kitchenet featuring a long dormant mini-fridge whose contents would no longer be discernable. Finally, to the left of the kitchen appears to be the other airlock leading back into the “Fortuna’s” docking ring, and directly opposite the airlock he entered lies the pilot and co-pilot’s seats; facing a set of controls and displays whose lights have remained dormant long enough to accrue an inch-thick layer of dust.

Kastor

Investigation of his coms would reveal that the technology was fine, however repeated attempts to change frequency would reveal all channels filled with maddening static and garbled proxy language. It would seem that the deeper into the installation one traveled, the more scattered and invaded communications’ channels would become.

Continuing on the trail, the Rhino and his companion would exit the network of catwalks into a wide-open area. Far away from the dim lighting of the docking ring, this expanse of metal flooring reaches out in either direction nigh featureless in the near dark save for a few long defunct mag-lev shuttles and vehicles. The only source of light seems to be spilling in from a massive gateway about a hundred meters away as metallic groans echo about the cavernous reaches of the ceiling; their source being ancient cargo containers suspended by cabling anchored to rails connected to the ceiling.

Though none of the shambling masses could be heard, clustered groups meander the dark in erratic patterns. Navigating this stretch would prove difficult given the way every little sound carries, and casting a light would certainly draw an equal amount of attention as it carved a path in the vail of darkness cast over the room in its entirety. Regardless, it would seem there’s only one obvious exit from this room; locating another could take time he may not be able to afford. Roaming about the floor would put him in the most direct confrontation with the undead should he make the mistake of bumping into one, and while leaping from suspended platform to platform would be a safe way of circumventing the infested, such a heavy frame as his would definitely disrupt the fragile balance keeping said platforms aloft.

Corpus Freighter – Upper Decks

For a long moment, the insect woman seemed to consider the crewman at the end of her blade; casting invisible eyes about his form to gaze upon the very contents of his soul.

Finally, her voice once again shattered the near-silence, this time with a much gentler tone as she withdrew her curved blade from his throat. “If what you say is true, then I should inform you that I’m currently not in a position to refuse a potential friend. What’s more, I’m all but assured a Crewman such as yourself could not afford to make an enemy of the likes of me.” The woman releases the struggling Osprey from beneath her foot and lowers herself to offer the startled party a hand up. “Once again, you have two options: remain on your own, roam the bowels of this hellish installation, and most likely die on your own. Or lend me what aid you can, and most assuredly die, but know that I will be trying my damndest to prevent such a fate from befall – “

Her speech is cut short as multiple reverberations rock the ship, quickly followed by the sound of approaching footsteps. The female humanoid wastes no time in rising to stance; drawing from her hip a rather garishly colored pistol with an uneasy fluidity as she unknowingly turns her back on a pair of red, glowing eyes.

Speaking once more to the Crewman, she states flatly, “Turn on me now, and I shall tear your soul from your flesh and accept it as tribute.”

Corpus Freighter – Lower Deck

Thoughtful search of the crates before him would require a bit of physical strength and leverage; the personal access panels that operated them long dead and dormant. A quick dusting however would reveal that the entirety of the hold belonged to “Paype Corp.”: a once well-known Corpus fast food chain. Built on the old Earth mentality of quality food produced at a price affordable to the common man, legal loop-holes and several non-aggression pacts had allowed the chain to flourish nearly anywhere the Corpus could feasibly place one. Civilian ceasefire zones, neutral mining and salvage operations, human and Corpus colonies established on the outer terminus, and apparently the mythical “Fortuna” herself.

Nowadays the chain wasn’t nearly as widespread, the majority of their shares being liquidated to cover a series of grueling lawsuits carried out by a wealthy and vindictive rival chain owner, but those who still recognized the brand would recognize that the primary quality of their goods boasted was their ability to keep far longer than the body that took them in. All manner of corporate secret preservatives and complex shipping methods went into the food they worked tirelessly to engineer, as well as keeping the flavor of their meals as unaffected as possible.

Regardless of one’s opinion on the Corpus, they’d be hard-pressed to argue with the flavor of a quality burger. That is, so long as you weren’t too repulsed by the concept of eating one that could potentially be as old, if not older than yourself.

[Ghost333]

2 minutes ago, SpaceHelicopters said:

Worthington

The sounds of an ancient Earth opera would be practically audible as General James Edgar Worthington continued his waltz among the stars; careening forth as his momentum remained constant on a course for the exposed rear airlock of a Corpus Plinth Class Cargo Hauler. By the looks of it, the ship’s cargo containers had broken away and floated off to void knows where, void knows how long ago. The absence significantly lessens the vessel’s size, meaning that passage through would be rather short lived and uneventful, however its distance from the rabble at the breach would be more than enough to promise a diminished chance of coming across any hapless undead.

As is beginning to be expected of all these drydocked ships, the hauler itself is dry on power and has most likely been as such for quite some time. Bypassing the sealed airlock wouldn’t so much be an issue of security, but one of creative leverage (or perhaps superior force). Whatever means the general may find through, over, or under the door, the insides of the metal beast at his mercy would prove cozy and claustrophobic. Moreover one large room rather than a proper quarters, he would be flanked at either side with a total of four beds set into the walls alongside a matching number of lockers. Investigation of their contents would reveal little more than long expired rations, moth eaten clothing, and a series of personal effects ranging from image projectors containing stills of assumed family members to several noggles of discontinued Index combatants.

In the center of the room sits a toggleable table beset by retractable benches; all locked in the raised position and consuming nearly 60% of the areas free space. A nook to the right houses a well-worn kitchenet featuring a long dormant mini-fridge whose contents would no longer be discernable. Finally, to the left of the kitchen appears to be the other airlock leading back into the “Fortuna’s” docking ring, and directly opposite the airlock he entered lies the pilot and co-pilot’s seats; facing a set of controls and displays whose lights have remained dormant long enough to accrue an inch-thick layer of dust.

Opening the ship up was hardly an issue - for whatever reason, the cargo clamps allowed for interior access, a la a certain floating science lab overrun with horrific monstrosities. Were Hexer familiar with the latter situation, he would have laughed at the irony. Regardless, he didn't feel like falling prey to the void of space.

G.R.A.I.L. managed to catch up to him just before he closed the interior door. The sentinel-bound A.I. chirped in what seemed to be annoyance.

"Sir, you could have told me you were leaving!"
"What, you didn't hear me over comms?"
"No! Come to think of it, I can't establish contact with the transport either. And I can't seem to interface with your eyepiece, sir."
"That'd be because it's broken. Christ, I know the Infested have those disruptors but dear god, what the seven hells can knock out a room without even getting close?"
"No idea sir. Regardless, I suggest we find a way off. Even if it does mean moving through the belly of the beast."
The general sighed. "Right...F***, I should've brought a flamethrower."
"Actually, combat reports state they are only effective so long as a Healer-type ancient is not among the group. If there is a sort of super disruptor that managed to knock out your eye it isn't beyond the realm of possibility that a super healer is present elsewhere."
Hexer sighed again. "Really have to make me regret the fun stuff, don't you?"
"Well, you can still clear an entire hallway with your railgun, sir."
"Look, just...keep an eye on my back. Chirp if you see something human and not infested." He strode over to the main airlock and started working on trying to get the door open.
The sentinel let out a series of beeps that sounded like the audible version of a shrug and started playing a nifty synthwave song that was possibly not exactly thematic. Hexer filled in the lyrics in his head.

Spoiler

 

 

 

[IrishHades1798]

21 hours ago, Agent_Maine said:

 

Bornstella collapsed against the wall, alongside Kholdor. She could feel her heart pounding - they had managed to escape the Infestation. For now. She was lucky; her armor granted her oxygen so the thin air was not a problem for her. However, she was much more tired than she would have liked to say - running for such a long amount of time meant that she needed a good rest. Alexis floated alongside Bornstellla, beeping worriedly. She glanced to Kholdor. "We have to be quiet. One wrong noise and we'll bring the whole Infestation down on us." She managed to say, taking deep breaths to regain her composure. Bornstella sighed. "Honestly, what the f*ck is this place." She said. "It's like a nightmare."

"Not like, is.". Kholdor said, starting to stand. He began to stretch but quickly stopped after a loud series of popping noises emanating from his joints. After a brief moment of contemplation, he spoke.

"We can't stay out in the open like this. Horde or no horde, if we're caught in these tight spaces we won't stand much of a chance. Plus, I don't know about you, but I've got an empty stomach and could use something to eat." Kholdor looked over at his Kubrow companion. THis could be something in which Sunik could help them, but his sense of smell might be hindered by what little air the station had. 'Now would also be a good time to look over supplies as well', he thought. He began to look through his ammo for the Arca Plasmor and Lato, and looked for nicks or dullness on the blade of the Ceramic Dagger. He then checked to see what amount of water or food he left on his person, at least what little Sunik had yet to devour for his own satisfaction.

After sizing up their situation, he leaned up against the wall and lazily gazed upward, trying to think of a direction only to have a potential answer left right in front of him. "Hey," He said to Bornstella. "Do you think those things can get up into or fit in vents?"

[GrimLandon]

30 minutes ago, SpaceHelicopters said:

 

Kastor

Investigation of his coms would reveal that the technology was fine, however repeated attempts to change frequency would reveal all channels filled with maddening static and garbled proxy language. It would seem that the deeper into the installation one traveled, the more scattered and invaded communications’ channels would become.

Continuing on the trail, the Rhino and his companion would exit the network of catwalks into a wide-open area. Far away from the dim lighting of the docking ring, this expanse of metal flooring reaches out in either direction nigh featureless in the near dark save for a few long defunct mag-lev shuttles and vehicles. The only source of light seems to be spilling in from a massive gateway about a hundred meters away as metallic groans echo about the cavernous reaches of the ceiling; their source being ancient cargo containers suspended by cabling anchored to rails connected to the ceiling.

Though none of the shambling masses could be heard, clustered groups meander the dark in erratic patterns. Navigating this stretch would prove difficult given the way every little sound carries, and casting a light would certainly draw an equal amount of attention as it carved a path in the viel of darkness cast over the room in its entirety. Regardless, it would seem there’s only one obvious exit from this room; locating another could take time he may not be able to afford. Roaming about the floor would put him in the most direct confrontation with the undead should he make the mistake of bumping into one, and while leaping from suspended platform to platform would be a safe way of circumventing the infested, such a heavy frame as his would definitely disrupt the fragile balance keeping said platforms aloft.

 

 

It would appear that Kastor's luck with silently moving has finally come to a end. He certainly wouldn't be able to keep on those platforms without falling, and giving the amount in the room he wouldn't be able to sneak by effectively. But he saw the exist, and he saw the path before him, and that's really all he needs. Kastor took a moment to take a deep breath, focus in, ready himself for battle. He sat and figured how far he would get before alerting the others. If he could make it toward where it's more well lit at the end of the room, the worst would be over.

He drew his sword, feeling the weight in his hands. Many Tenno perfected more subtle and maneuverable weaponry. The nikana, the skana, and the like. Never Kastor. Back during the first war, the Galatine was his first mastered weapon. He's probably seen near a thousand battles with this weapon. Certainly here, now, will not be his last. As he drew the sword he brought the tip of the blade down to the ground in front of him. He took one last, deep, extended breather and then lifted the sword in defensive position.

"Stay close Sluggy. if more then five get around me activate dispersion procedure, otherwise conserve your energy and ammunition" Kastor whispered to his faithful sentinel.

As he looked towards his goal, time began to slow. He could feel his heart steadily beating. He knew not fear, only determination. Finally, with each movement well thought and deliberate, he moved forward.

Any infested in his path would be struck by his blade. No bothering with those not in his way, he movement was toward the door and the door only. Slash, run, slash, run. Each move was deliberate , methodical, like a fine tuned machine. Once the battle started, all thought of the hallucinations, the task at hand, the situation he was in, vanished.  He set about battle the way an artist would create a masterpiece, a writer his best novel. War was his craft, and he would not fall to these creatures. A part of him thought it inconvenient to have to fight these creatures, however the other part of him thought it was about damn time.

[Agent_Maine]

30 minutes ago, IrishHades1798 said:

"Not like, is.". Kholdor said, starting to stand. He began to stretch but quickly stopped after a loud series of popping noises emanating from his joints. After a brief moment of contemplation, he spoke.

"We can't stay out in the open like this. Horde or no horde, if we're caught in these tight spaces we won't stand much of a chance. Plus, I don't know about you, but I've got an empty stomach and could use something to eat." Kholdor looked over at his Kubrow companion. THis could be something in which Sunik could help them, but his sense of smell might be hindered by what little air the station had. 'Now would also be a good time to look over supplies as well', he thought. He began to look through his ammo for the Arca Plasmor and Lato, and looked for nicks or dullness on the blade of the Ceramic Dagger. He then checked to see what amount of water or food he left on his person, at least what little Sunik had yet to devour for his own satisfaction.

After sizing up their situation, he leaned up against the wall and lazily gazed upward, trying to think of a direction only to have a potential answer left right in front of him. "Hey," He said to Bornstella. "Do you think those things can get up into or fit in vents?"

Bornstella glanced over to Kholdor. "The Infested? Not likely." She responded. "They're too big." She sighed, also taking a look at what food and water she had left. Good. She still had a large amount - she wouldn't run out anytime soon. But it wasn't starvation which was the problem - it was the Infested. This was a massive space station filled with Infested, and they had just gone deeper into it. The chances of them surviving this experience were incredibly low. She slowly stood up, turning and looking at Alexis. The Nemes drone beeped once again - sharing Bornstella's own worries about their current situation. She then turned to Kholdor. "The ventilation system is our way out of this dead end without attracting those Infested towards us. The problem is, we have no clue what'll be at the end of the vents." 

[IceDragonofAmber]

The Tenno, hyperventilating in a mix of ecstatic relief and mental/physical exhaustion crawled over to her dormant Warframe, placing her hands upon it and recreating the Somatic Link. Re-established the Warframe stirred and slowly rose back to its feet, winching at the memories reconnecting had brought with it. Compared to everything else though, it was just mildly inconveniencing.

At this point Sab breathed, taking a few minutes to calm herself before rolling her head, cracking her neck and taking in her surroundings. A derelict Galleon leading into the station with Infested screeching in the distance. Great. And Greed was being sad as the Liset, which was currently in the process of being amalgamated into the station, would no longer be sellable on the black market. Double great.

Now Sab, being the supreme detective that she was, determined that this Infested hive wasn't just your average rash, and that SOMETHING big, probably some kind of higher lifeform like an ancient Ancient, had been f*cking with her head the moment she had set eyes on the station, and had probably caused her to get lost here in the first place. Meaning that whatever lived at the centre of this mouldy scrap heap was not only responsible for making her relive some of the most traumatic memories of her past, was not only responsible for making her lose sight of what would surely have been a lovely day spent genociding clones, but was ALSO responsible for the likely 10 year long lecture she was going to get due to the now destroyed Liset.

Splaying her palm Sab projected a holographic list titled the List of Slights and entered in the Infested Hivemind/Malevolent AI/Whatever-The-F*ck-Was-Controlling-This-Derelict right underneath whatever smhuck was currently running the Crimson Lotus.

Killing the projection Sab clutched her hammer, whistled for her Carrier and began walking into the bowels of the station.

She was going to f*cking kill this thing, blow this entire damn station to hell or die trying.

 

 

The Valkyr, rather comically, paused mid-step as she exited the Galleon. While rather inappropriate considering the rather dramatic declaration she'd just made, something'd just clicked in the whirring gears within her head. They were rather rusty, and in desperate need of an oil change, but click they did.

Turning slowly around, she wondered something that should'vr already been apparent.

"Why the f*ck is there a Grineer Galleon on a Corpus station?"

 

Just a momentary pause, she is still marching out into the station

Edited September 28, 2017 by IceDragonofAmber

[IrishHades1798]

56 minutes ago, Agent_Maine said:

Bornstella glanced over to Kholdor. "The Infested? Not likely." She responded. "They're too big." She sighed, also taking a look at what food and water she had left. Good. She still had a large amount - she wouldn't run out anytime soon. But it wasn't starvation which was the problem - it was the Infested. This was a massive space station filled with Infested, and they had just gone deeper into it. The chances of them surviving this experience were incredibly low. She slowly stood up, turning and looking at Alexis. The Nemes drone beeped once again - sharing Bornstella's own worries about their current situation. She then turned to Kholdor. "The ventilation system is our way out of this dead end without attracting those Infested towards us. The problem is, we have no clue what'll be at the end of the vents." 

"True, but we know what to expect if we stay out here. Not to mention we don't know if we can trust the other people on this station. We're all in a dire situation, I don't think it would take much for some to shoot one of us in the back of the head and make way with whatever we've got." Kholdor replied. He kept staring up at the ventilation, mulling over possibilities on what may lie ahead. It could be temporary safety, maybe a means to survive or a messy and horrific death.

"To hell with it, I saw we do vents. It may turn out to be the end of us but it's the end of us for certain if we don't. Come here, I'll give you a boost up." Kholdor said, cupping his hands to serve as a foot hold.

[-AoN-CanoLathra-]

As the vision ended, Takar found herself alone in the barren halls of the derelict. She looked around, trying to get her bearings.

She noticed a Corpus-style bootprint on the floor, seemingly tracked there recently, the infested guts still fresh.

Well, it's better than nothing, Takar thought. Hopefully it's Bornstella.

I just have to be ready for another one of those visions. The next one might not end so well. Who knows if I can even tell friend from foe when these hit.

With nothing else to go on, she holstered her shotgun, pulled out her pistol, and began following the bloody bootprints, scarce as they were.

15 minutes ago, IrishHades1798 said:

1 hour ago, Agent_Maine said:

Bornstella glanced over to Kholdor. "The Infested? Not likely." She responded. "They're too big." She sighed, also taking a look at what food and water she had left. Good. She still had a large amount - she wouldn't run out anytime soon. But it wasn't starvation which was the problem - it was the Infested. This was a massive space station filled with Infested, and they had just gone deeper into it. The chances of them surviving this experience were incredibly low. She slowly stood up, turning and looking at Alexis. The Nemes drone beeped once again - sharing Bornstella's own worries about their current situation. She then turned to Kholdor. "The ventilation system is our way out of this dead end without attracting those Infested towards us. The problem is, we have no clue what'll be at the end of the vents." 

"True, but we know what to expect if we stay out here. Not to mention we don't know if we can trust the other people on this station. We're all in a dire situation, I don't think it would take much for some to shoot one of us in the back of the head and make way with whatever we've got." Kholdor replied. He kept staring up at the ventilation, mulling over possibilities on what may lie ahead. It could be temporary safety, maybe a means to survive or a messy and horrific death.

"To hell with it, I saw we do vents. It may turn out to be the end of us but it's the end of us for certain if we don't. Come here, I'll give you a boost up." Kholdor said, cupping his hands to serve as a foot hold.

*thunk* *thunk* *thump* *clang*

What was that? Takar looked up, and saw an air grate in the ceiling. It would seem she heard an echo of something further down.

Well, I don't have much else to go on.

Takar used her pistol to shoot out the grate, then bullet-jumped up into the small passageway. Finding it too short for her warframe to fit upright, she crouched down.

Maybe this would be easier if I leave my warframe here. I don't think anything will notice it up here, and I can always recall it if I need to. Besides, if I go crazy during another vision and get too injured, I'll be sent back.

Takar exited her frame, taking her pistol and her rapier with her.

Time to see if I can follow that noise.

[Agent_Maine]

24 minutes ago, IrishHades1798 said:

"True, but we know what to expect if we stay out here. Not to mention we don't know if we can trust the other people on this station. We're all in a dire situation, I don't think it would take much for some to shoot one of us in the back of the head and make way with whatever we've got." Kholdor replied. He kept staring up at the ventilation, mulling over possibilities on what may lie ahead. It could be temporary safety, maybe a means to survive or a messy and horrific death.

"To hell with it, I saw we do vents. It may turn out to be the end of us but it's the end of us for certain if we don't. Come here, I'll give you a boost up." Kholdor said, cupping his hands to serve as a foot hold.

"Alright." Bornstella replied, walking over to Kholdor. She used his hands as a foothold, climbing up into the vents above. Alexis beeped as it floated up alongside her. Bornstella managed to turn around inside the vent, outstretching her hand. "Grab my hand." She said. "I'll pull you up into the vent." She was trying to be as quiet as possible - any wrong noise and the Infested would come. And they wouldn't be able to survive another prolonged attack. 

[IrishHades1798]

"Hold up, first things first," He said. He crouched down to his Kubrow companion, who visibly looked disgusted at his approach as he leaned down to pick him up. It scratched at flailed about until finally, Sunik settled down. "Can't leave this mangy mutt behind," Kholdor said as he lifted up Sunik. Once Sunik was settled inside the vent, Kholdor grabbed Bornstella's hand and moved inside the vent with his cohorts.

"I'll let you take lead here," Kholdor said. "Keep that gun trained forward, and I'll let you know if we have any of those... things coming up the rear."

[Agent_Maine]

6 minutes ago, IrishHades1798 said:

"Hold up, first things first," He said. He crouched down to his Kubrow companion, who visibly looked disgusted at his approach as he leaned down to pick him up. It scratched at flailed about until finally, Sunik settled down. "Can't leave this mangy mutt behind," Kholdor said as he lifted up Sunik. Once Sunik was settled inside the vent, Kholdor grabbed Bornstella's hand and moved inside the vent with his cohorts.

"I'll let you take lead here," Kholdor said. "Keep that gun trained forward, and I'll let you know if we have any of those... things coming up the rear."

"Alright." Bornstella agreed. She struggled again and managed to turn around, taking her Arca Plasmor off her back and aiming it in front of her. She then started to crawl forwards through the vent, ready to fire in case of an attack. Alexis beeped as it floated alongside her, its glowing blue eye watching as they moved through the vents. Bornstella sighed as they moved through the vents. 

[InfiniumV]

2 hours ago, SpaceHelicopters said:

Corpus Freighter – Upper Decks

For a long moment, the insect woman seemed to consider the crewman at the end of her blade; casting invisible eyes about his form to gaze upon the very contents of his soul.

Finally, her voice once again shattered the near-silence, this time with a much gentler tone as she withdrew her curved blade from his throat. “If what you say is true, then I should inform you that I’m currently not in a position to refuse a potential friend. What’s more, I’m all but assured a Crewman such as yourself could not afford to make an enemy of the likes of me.” The woman releases the struggling Osprey from beneath her foot and lowers herself to offer the startled party a hand up. “Once again, you have two options: remain on your own, roam the bowels of this hellish installation, and most likely die on your own. Or lend me what aid you can, and most assuredly die, but know that I will be trying my damndest to prevent such a fate from befall – “

Her speech is cut short as multiple reverberations rock the ship, quickly followed by the sound of approaching footsteps. The female humanoid wastes no time in rising to stance; drawing from her hip a rather garishly colored pistol with an uneasy fluidity as she unknowingly turns her back on a pair of red, glowing eyes.

Speaking once more to the Crewman, she states flatly, “Turn on me now, and I shall tear your soul from your flesh and accept it as tribute.”

Corpus Freighter – Lower Deck

Thoughtful search of the crates before him would require a bit of physical strength and leverage; the personal access panels that operated them long dead and dormant. A quick dusting however would reveal that the entirety of the hold belonged to “Paype Corp.”: a once well-known Corpus fast food chain. Built on the old Earth mentality of quality food produced at a price affordable to the common man, legal loop-holes and several non-aggression pacts had allowed the chain to flourish nearly anywhere the Corpus could feasibly place one. Civilian ceasefire zones, neutral mining and salvage operations, human and Corpus colonies established on the outer terminus, and apparently the mythical “Fortuna” herself.

Nowadays the chain wasn’t nearly as widespread, the majority of their shares being liquidated to cover a series of grueling lawsuits carried out by a wealthy and vindictive rival chain owner, but those who still recognized the brand would recognize that the primary quality of their goods boasted was their ability to keep far longer than the body that took them in. All manner of corporate secret preservatives and complex shipping methods went into the food they worked tirelessly to engineer, as well as keeping the flavor of their meals as unaffected as possible.

Regardless of one’s opinion on the Corpus, they’d be hard-pressed to argue with the flavor of a quality burger. That is, so long as you weren’t too repulsed by the concept of eating one that could potentially be as old, if not older than yourself.

Normally, it takes sophisticated machinery or ridiculous brawn to pry open crates. But, when one has a polearm such as the Sydon, it becomes considerably easier - By jabbing the Sydons tip into the connection between lid & crate, it became a matter of using the polearm as a lever, gradually inching off the lid of the box.
For Grineer weaponry, the Sydon was unusual for a melee weapon by virtue of the fact it was focused on Puncturing the opponent, and thus was an excellent weapon against armored targets. The fearsome Box-Kin stood no chance even against a mildly forceful thrust.

After prying the first box open, J'kotal put one hand on the edge of the opened crate, he peered in as far as his jar-helmet would allow him to do so. As for the contents, he was a tad conflicted.
Well, on the upside, at least he found food. Whether or not the strange vacuum sealed buns actually were safe to eat, or judging by how shriveled they appeared to be, how old the bloody things were in the first place. J'kotal weighed in his mind whether or not it was a good idea to even consider even holding one of the buns, before releasing a short sigh. Beggars can't be choosers, as they say - Even though he wasn't hungry as of the moment, he still took the liberty of stuffing seven of them into his knapsack for later - Only the Orokin would be able to guess as to how long he'd be here for.
The Downside? No power cells, no techy bits, not even any worthwhile salvage. Not even a little hint as to how

"Damn it."
Unfortunately, all of the other crates that J'kotal tried to pry open in the room shared the same contents, each teasing out a slightly more exasperated curse each time, for each time he tried, he may as well have turned up empty handed. After teasing the fourth one open, he just settled on the fact that he wasn't getting anywhere. Turning his attention to the elevator at the back of the room, he walked up to the contraption and began following the walls around the cargo bay.

There had to be a console in here somewhere? Maybe there was an old corpse with a security key? Maybe a ladder somewhere led to an upper deck? Perhaps there was a service stairwell somewhere?
J'kotal might have been born from the military machine of the Grineer Empire, but as his status at birth was a Fodder clone, he had only rudimentary conditioning, and a slight speck of worry was presenting itself oh-so-subtly in the sense that J'kotal was trapped here.

[Daakjenaar]

3 hours ago, SpaceHelicopters said:

For a long moment, the insect woman seemed to consider the crewman at the end of her blade; casting invisible eyes about his form to gaze upon the very contents of his soul.

Finally, her voice once again shattered the near-silence, this time with a much gentler tone as she withdrew her curved blade from his throat. “If what you say is true, then I should inform you that I’m currently not in a position to refuse a potential friend. What’s more, I’m all but assured a Crewman such as yourself could not afford to make an enemy of the likes of me.” The woman releases the struggling Osprey from beneath her foot and lowers herself to offer the startled party a hand up. “Once again, you have two options: remain on your own, roam the bowels of this hellish installation, and most likely die on your own. Or lend me what aid you can, and most assuredly die, but know that I will be trying my damndest to prevent such a fate from befall – “

Her speech is cut short as multiple reverberations rock the ship, quickly followed by the sound of approaching footsteps. The female humanoid wastes no time in rising to stance; drawing from her hip a rather garishly colored pistol with an uneasy fluidity as she unknowingly turns her back on a pair of red, glowing eyes.

Speaking once more to the Crewman, she states flatly, “Turn on me now, and I shall tear your soul from your flesh and accept it as tribute.”

"Y'know... I think I'll take door number two. Safety in numbers, right?" Frez responded, picking up his Dera. "Just... uh... please don't kill me?"

His Osprey was locked on to the woman, clearly doing the closest approximation to glaring an Osprey could do. It stopped after a few moments and began rotating slowly, providing Frez with a 360 degree view. He gripped his Dera shakily, trying to maintain his composure.

[Arunafeltz]

The old man halted on reaching the doorway, taking in the two taller figures in the room before him. A hovering, suited feminine form; and a man retrieving his firearm. A Corpus crewman from the looks of it, though perhaps someone more? And the fluttering, what he had fea- suspected, were oversized cockroaches - it was of metallic butterflies. Little doubt at this point that they were the entourage of the pixie that was pointing a gun in his direction.

"I say, hold your fire miss!" cried the old man, his voice betraying some hint of amusement... or masked relief. He threw his hands up above his head, his mouth widening into a cheeky grin amid his bush of a beard. "If you would just-"

His eyes narrowed as they caught the reddish glow behind the insect woman. Split-second but careful thought was placed into his next movements. He lowered his arms and swept aside his cloak in a deliberate movement, clearly exposing his weapon - a plain Nikana - to the pixie. His right hand closed around the grip of his blade, and he sank into a crouch, lowering his already short stature even further.

"-bear with me lass, for I mean you no harm. I beg you to trust this old man and duck!"

Edited September 28, 2017 by Arunafeltz

[WolfmanX9]

Thraks had spent some time looking around the room he was in, but he didn't find anything usefull, only some metal scraps and broken panels now and then. He thought he had searched the room enough for now as he started to walk to the next room. His carabus started to warn him about life signatures nearby, which worried him somewhat as he wasn't sure if these creatures were friendly or not. Just in case of a sudden attack, he grabbed his kraken with his right hand with a finger on the trigger as a safety precaution. If he was lucky, he wouldn't need to use it, but he can't be sure with the current place he was in.