Eisenhorn

Warhammer 40k: Enigmas of the Warp

@Andromedai She's always been tall, and blame the 4th degree interdimensional warp fuckery. Tall is good though, to be fair.

The New Pride: A Second Founding RP [A 40K RP]

I reckon I can go on and fill in the Grand Master of Librarians position, sure as sure.

Veritas Lux Mea

Ansgar Staudinger

Ansgar was, for once, not busy in the engine room. Things were mostly sorted, though he couldn't check the fuel lines before they launched due to the crate duty. Normally he would sweep the lines with a scanner he kept in the engine room, which looked for unknown materials, especially solids, since they were on a ship that would likely be targeted. Normally while they were flying, it wasn't easy to do, but he decided he would go about that now. With a low groan he resuited up fully, part of his usual precautions in case he did find something, and started checking the lines. Crawling among the running machinery might be concerning to some, but Ansgar was so used to it by now that it really didn't bother him none. He was able to move quickly about it, and like normal, he wasn't finding anything in the lines. Well, normally until the scanner started pinging like mad, and the mechanic blanched and opened the comm to the bridge as he launched himself towards a recently installed valve that would secure the section of piping from the fuel system. Downside being... "YER ABOUT TO LOSE 'ALF YER ENGINES!"

He slammed the valve shut, and threw himself out from below the fuel line since he could hear the sudden loss of flow dislodge the metallic object in the line, and Ansgar had the rebreathing mask and helmet on and secured when the metallic object detonated, blowing out the fuel line and sending flaming fuel outwards, sending the mechanic scrambling for the nearest extinguisher that he kept handy, designed for fuel fires. The automated safety systems locked down the engine room, ensuring that nothing could spread outwards should the mechanic be dead, or unable to contain the flames and damaged system. The detonation did, of course, rattle and shake the ship as well the fact the engine power was, at least temporarily, halved until the mechanic could install temporary fuel lines to allow the half of the engines that lost power to start up. Fortunately he rerouted fuel lines during one extended port stay, setting it up so that half the engines being lost was split between port and starboard.

"Lass, ah' need ye' down 'ere at the engine room!" That was directed at the Captain, who would no doubt either be on her way or recovering from the explosion and shuddering. It would take somewhat longer as he tried to get the last of the burning fuel under control, eventually wrestling control of the engine room back under his control which, after ventilation kicked on, allowed him to get the rebreathing mask and helmet off, watching the engine room doors unseal and open, stepping out into the much cooler and less stressful, for the moment, corridor while waiting for the Captain. He would also be actively blocking any attempts to enter the engine room for now, he planned to keep it off limits until all the repairs were done to the damaged fuel line plus anything burned by the fuel fire. As tempting as it was, he resisted the urge to light a smoke up right now, though he could use it. Better wait until the captain got here first, then do so, lest he be accused of being stupid.

Warhammer 40k: Enigmas of the Warp

Ansgar Staudinger

Theme Song

Name:
Ansgar Staudinger

Death Korp Trooper Number:
Trooper 17431

Appearance:


Height:
5'6"

Age:
27

Sex:
Male

Class:
Death Korp Engineer

Equipment:
- Lucius Pattern Mark 22c Shotgun -
Standard issue weapon of the Death Korp Engineers, Ansgar is fond of it and continues to carry the same, well worn and well used one that he has had since first departing Krieg to fight for the Imperium of Man at large. Infamous for its recoil and high gauge shells, one can fire all sorts of munitions from its eight shell revolving magazine. Normally utilizing a gas operated mechanism to rotate it, Ansgar can manually work the mechanism should it happen to fail in the fight. Besides buckshot, Ansgar carries a number of solid slugs and flares for signalling purposes.

- Carapace Armor -
Like the Grenadiers, Death Korp Engineers are issued Carapace Armor, which helps with the fact that most Engineers tend to be in pitched, close quarters combat. The armour makes use of the standard issue Mark IX helmet, rebreather mask, shoulder guards, breastplate and additional abdomen plates. The standard Krieg uniform shin guards are not used, and are replaced by kneepads, as most engineering work must be done crouching or kneeling within the tunnels of a Krieg trenchline or tunnel. Each breastplate mounts a powerful flashlight for use whilst working in the darkness.

- Explosives -
As his former squads Demolitions expert as well as Engineer in general, Ansgar carried the standard explosives load out alongside extra tools. Besides several Frag and Krak grenades, Ansgar also has several demolition charges, rated for taking out hardened bunkers when put in place. Ansgar modified the charges so that, in a hurry, he can pull a detonation cable and heave the charge at a target, the normally delicate and precise procedure for arming the charges ditched in favor of emergency target removal. And, as a Krieg Engineer, he has learned to build improvised explosives that served him well in the trenches when supplies on conventional explosives were running short, as well as utilize Chemical weapons safely.

- Melee Gear -
Ansgar carries two weapons for melee combat, one obligatory and the other actually used. The obligatory is his bayonet, which the Lucius Pattern Mark 22c shotgun lacks a lug for, though Engineers often enjoy keeping them on hand as they make for a good alternative in a melee during trench or tunnel clearing, and typically serves as much as a tool and last resort weapon than anything else. His actual go to is a Entrenching Tool, edges sharpened to allow him to carve through hostiles as well as bludgeon them, and retain the intended purpose of digging trenches and other necessary fighting positions. Notably, he also has a pick axe for entrenching and sapping that, in a pinch, he could use to make some heretic or xeno life real difficult.

Notable Deeds:
- Tyranid Assault on Thresis IV -
Raised from birth to be a Death Korp Engineer, Ansgar Staudinger, or known by his Trooper designation 17431, will never state when he was sent to war, something that tends to bother people who ask that are outsiders to Krieg and their necessary methods of providing the Imperium the soldiers it needs. Assigned fresh to an Engineering Platoon, Ansgar would spend a great deal of time digging trenches and laying mines in the defense of a Shrine World, Thresis IV, directly in the path of a Tyranid Hive Fleet Splinter. The Tyranids, despite being vastly reduced in numbers compared to a true Hive Fleet, descended like mad locusts, slaughtering over 90% of the Death Korp forces deployed on the planet. Of that 10%, Ansgar Staudinger was one of the survivors, the only from his platoon, found near death after turning an entire trench line into a raging biochemical inferno, equal parts fire and chemical weapon that was effective on the Tyranids. Sharing the compound make up with other Death Korp Engineers, the biochemical fire was used to great extent to halt and drive back the Tyranids, making the then rookie Staudinger's trial by fire a literal, and resounding, success.

- Nightmares Beneath Thrasis II -
As part of the Thrasis campaign his regiment was assigned to, and the arrival of Tyranid complicating greatly, Ansgar Staudinger was deployed with a fresh Engineering platoon to assist in the breaking of a siege on Chaos held factories on the system's forge world, Thrasis II. Utilizing conventional tunneling and, when they detected they were almost at the entry point, Hades Breaching Drill, to punch into the Chaos held Foundry, Ansgar and his fellow Guardsmen stumbled into something straight out of the most feverish of a heretic's nightmares. The Warp had bled over into the belly of the foundry, with daemons and mutants in equal measures assaulting the woefully unprepared Krieg Guardsmen. However, they had a job to do, and they were able to hold their ground, keeping a secure tunnel long enough for support to arrive and push deep enough into the Chaos corrupted foundry, to the dark heart and plant enough explosives for the resulting explosion spotted from orbit. Whether it was the sheer amount of explosives put in place, or partially due to Chaos corruption was never decided.

- Hellscape of Thrasis I -
Nearing the end of the Thrasis System Campaign, Ansgar found himself leading a team of Engineers as he had the experience to do so now, though he still carried the explosives he always had. However, upon touching down on Thrasis I, the Kriegers found something unlike anything anyone could be prepared for. The Foundry was merely a foretaste of what was to come, as planet spanning rituals had allowed the Warp to taint and corrupt great stretches of the planet, forcing Guard forces to struggle through conventional defenses one day, and make a mad dash through Daemon infested hellscapes that should not be the next. What Ansgar refuses to mention to a soul, due to an oath he was put under at the end of the conflict, was the arrival of Grey Knights, of the Emperor's most holy Ordos Malleus. Alongside Adeptus Sororitas support, which Ansgar learned to have a deep, healthy respect for, the combined arms forces stormed the capital of Thrasis I, a den of pure evil and corruption that made the rest of the planet look like a Shrine World in comparison. Once again, whether by luck or the Emperor's own intervention, Ansgar found himself as one of the only Engineers, and Krieger's period, to survive the assaults into the city, arriving at the Hall of Governing as it had been christened during Thrasis I's founding as a colony, only to find horrors so unspeakable even the Krieg born Engineer refuses to speak of them now. But, between the Grey Knights and Sisters of Battle alongside his own humble contributions at that point, which mostly consisted of survival, Ansgar lived to see the end of the hellish campaign on Thrasis I. With literally no regiment to return to, and having become aware of the most secretive of Space Marine chapters, it was decided to induct him into the Inquisition, sending him to serve where needed most.

Fire Emblem: Sword and Sail

Weiland Voss - Eyes ever Forward

---

The blistering, whipping winds of the storm were a reminder of Weiland's first trip over to the new world, ironic considering the new life he had now found as a pirate. The barking order of preparing the port side guns brought others to action, though Weiland was far too forward to readily assist with the cannon fire on the Royal Navy vessel, he did bring his musket to bear, moving with the shifting and stormy seas to get off a relatively decent shot, helping buy his crew time to get the volley off. He was busy reloading his weapon, not simply standing idle as the volley found its mark and crippled the opposing vessel. Having finished loading his weapon, the cry to brace for impact got a sideways glance towards what they were about to collide with, a bloody iceberg of all things. Maybe he should have stuck to keeping his feet planted firmly on solid ground, after all, and he grabbed the most solid piece of ship he could get his hands on, though the details from here on out would be a blur, at best.

---

Coming to later, Weiland stifled a groan in case there was trouble around the area he would find himself waking up. Rather than outright jump up to his feet, he was slow to pick himself up, checking himself over for injuries that weren't readily apparent after only just waking up. Nothing broken or lacerated, he'd gotten lucky. Or blessed, as some of his comrades from the tribe would put it, though he would start moving about what was left in the immediate area, the cloaked and hooded figure offering a brief nod to the captain as she spoke on the rough start. With little time to breath, more Pirate Hunters engaged the battered and weary survivors of the pirate crew. The one leader of their surviving band took a nasty shot from his pistol, while other members of the crew went to ground and returned fire wherever possible. Lifting his musket and firing a shot of his own, starting to reload when the one man yelled out about getting some help getting closer, and the silver eyed tribesman ducked forward, moving low and fast and appearing by his side.

"Stay close, watch where I step, and keep up, we're taking the low path to give you a way to hit their flank from 'impossible' terrain. Lack of caution will leave you wishing you'd sat here being shot at, that black glass will ruin your feet if you don't do this right. Ms. Faulkner! We are taking to the flank, we shall return." Weiland would have to make sure that the Brigand, since the man's name eluded him, was keeping up. While a direct line of sight was not going to be as readily apparent from the lower ground, they were out of sight and, at a casual glance, unable to interact with the fighting. A close enough sweep, however, revealed one shallow cove like structure that would lead behind the position of the hunter's current position. Weiland would start making his way up there, and should the brigand have chosen to follow, he would make sure the man was aware of how to ascend as well. Near the top he would shift sideways, almost wedging himself into a crook to give the brigand space to pass him and strike first, as the man's lack of ranged firepower was noted before.

Bracing himself at the top afterwords, Weiland would observe the backs of the hunter bastards and a rare grin crossed the silver eyed man's face. He would, after allowing the brigand time to act if need be, open fire from the position, ready to either drop back down or swap to his pistols instead of reloading, the cross fire position would likely catch them off guard since both advancing and ascending up to this position was likely not something they would have concerned themselves with. His current plan was to cover the Brigand, barring that though, the crossfire position would leave the hunter's backs terribly exposed regardless who they chose to go after, be it the flanking attack or the original targets at all. This was where things got interesting, approaching problems with non standard solutions, this was something he could get behind, as it were.

Fire Emblem: Sword and Sail

Weiland Voss

Portrait

Name:
Weiland Voss

Alias/Nicknames:
Wei (Among Friends), Arak'tur (Noble Storm in his adopted tribes name), Silver Eyed Devil (Mostly family and those unfamiliar with him)

Date of Birth:
April 22nd, 1751

Gender:
Male

Sexuality:
Heterosexual

Class:
Nomad

Stats:
Strength: 13
Willpower: 13
Dexterity: 14
Speed: 13
Toughness: 13
Luck: 1

Skills:

Class Skill: Awareness

Deft Hands - When it comes to dexterity and working with fine motor skills, Weiland has an unusual knack for it. Be it reloading a musket or pistol at speed, assembling or disassembling traps, or other fine detailed work, the nomad is capable of doing so fast and accurately beyond what his peers normally would expect.

Close Quarters Combat - Despite the musket and pistols he carries, Weiland is a deft and fast hand in a brawl, preferring the knife he earned from his adopted tribe many years ago, coupled with employing leverage and putting people off balance to leave them vulnerable to finishing blows with said knife or to create enough distance to shoot them instead, employing the fast, brutal style of his adopted tribe's fighters.

Light Footed - Coupled with the dexterous hands, Weiland is able to not only cross most difficult terrain faster and more easily than normal, employing a variety of fast movement and, at times, brute force, but also tends to walk lightly enough to avoid tripping pressure plate traps, though tripwires will still trigger if he isn't paying attention for obvious reasons. He can also guide others, though he is limited to their speed to ensure they can safely traverse the hazards.

Trapper - Weiland has grown familiar with traps, to the point of not only using his personal kit to set them up when being pursued or protecting a camp, but also in identifying them as well as putting them to a newer, maybe less honest, purpose. After all, traps are for all sorts of prey, sometimes a little bigger than your average beast.

Equipment:
Musket
Khukri Knife
Trapper's Toolkit
x2 Flintlock Pistols

Appearance:
It is hard to tell that Weiland came from one of the Fioretza merchant families, having gone native shortly after being sent to oversee family holdings in the new world. This is mainly due to his stance and attire, always wary and expecting trouble, and dressed like the wanderer traders that still operate in the province of Peruzia. Standing at a meager 5'9", with a mess of dirty brown hair often times covered by the hood, one can be caught off guard by the steely silver of his eyes, a trademark of the Voss lineage and by product of constant and controlled breeding.

His attire is that of the tribe that Weiland both adopted, and was adopted by, hood and cloak worn and faded from long travel, the only real color being the red and gold colored scarf wrapped around his neck and dangling loose. Under the cloak and hood is the faded remenants of his old noble's garb, broken in and far more serviceable than new, prettier attire. One could even place the almost knee high boots, worn and faded with use and age, in a noble's court once upon a time.

Personality:
Even before abandoning the family he was firstborn to, Weiland was a stubborn soul, determined to do as he saw fit with his life. That bloody minded stubborness ran in the family, though unfortunately it was poised against pretty much everything the Voss merchant family had stood for. This gave the young Weiland a devil may care, flippant attitude that he carries with him casually to this day, coupled with a world weariness that really should not have been in a man so young. This was lessened to a degree by his time fighting alongside the tribe he was supposed to bring to heel and prevent the undercutting of profit for, giving him a more balanced, yet pragmatic, view of the world. Wanderlust is an eternal battle for Weiland, however, as it had driven him to agree to his family effectively kicking him out to the New World, driven him to abandon his entire life in favor of a chance at something new, and drove him to seek fortunes outside the tribe.

In short, Weiland is quick to deconstruct things as they are, being blunt and to the point with little regard for authority, though shows sometimes uncharacteristic excitement when faced with something new, or the potential for facing the new and unknown. Add in a dash of that well known Fioretzan spirit, which still rings true in Weiland, and you have a rather rough and tumultuous bundle to deal with, though invaluable for what he brings, and he knows it.

Biography:
The Voss Merchant House of the Social Republic of Fioretza, as the full, formal title on the coat of arms reads, is an old and established family, though one that is known for its risk taking and willingness to dig their heels in and push back hard. Founded and centered in Ocella, the capital of Fioretza, would maintain a tradition of the firstborn taking the rightful place that the father, and current Patron, of the house would leave in his wake after his passing. Weiland was born into such expectations, and was expected to learn everything deemed necessary, and many things that would improve upon what was already built by his father's hands. What none of them were ready for, Weiland included, would be how he responded to these demands and expectations.

Eventually, at the age of sixteen, his father and family Patron gave him an ultimatum. Fall in line, or head to holdings in the New World and see to sorting out recent problems with local tribes refusing to work within their lawfully given roles. For the Voss Merchant House, being forcibly sent to the New World was an exile, and it was expected to either scare him straight, or at least give him practical experience before he was called back. Weiland walked out, heading for the family docks with his meager belongings, a pair of pistols given to him for protection in the New World, and set sail for the province of Peruzia. It would not be an easy trip, the weather seeming to oppose the merchant ship at every turn, though they were fortunate enough to not run afoul of privateers or pirates targeting Fioretzan vessels.

Weiland would arrive and, much to the surprise of the aging aunt who had been running things and sending routine complaints about the tribals not falling in line, demanded to be given a means to meet with this tribe. With a local interpreter hired on, Weiland would spend the next two years meeting with and negotiating with the Glin'tur tribe, Silvered Storm tribe, though he grew to spend more time learning about them and their ways instead of actually working out how to fix the issues between his family holdings, and the tribal needs and desires. By his eighteenth birthday, he was fluent in the tribal language the Glin'tur shared with many others like them, and was made an offer by the tribe Matron, to join them and live a life he clearly was seeking and sorely needed.

Much to the shock of his bodyguards, who had been assigned to partially make sure he didn't go native and escape, Weiland simply turned up missing one day. Patrols were sent out, bounty hunters hired, and for awhile the Voss Merchant House searched for their missing firstborn. Rumors of a "Silver eyed tribal" always brought them running, though after several years they had given up spending concerted efforts, only sending the odd, dedicated parties and bounty hunters were only promised pay should they actually find and return him alive and well. Weiland would learn that his younger sister of several years would be taking over in his stead, a rare break of tradition due to his refusal to fall in line with his family desires. He would spend ten years with the Glin'tur tribe, wandering and learning to fight and move as they did.

Shortly after Weiland's 28th birthday, the wanderlust and desire to roam settled in again, much to the chagrin of a tribeswoman only a few years his junior. Such things were not unheard of, and even encouraged at times, as it allowed diversity and experience to be shared among the tribes, strengthening them all. Weiland was given his musket and the signature blade of the Glin'tur, a large, curved knife that functioned both as tool and weapon, as well as being allowed to keep his trappers kit and some basic supplies, before he set out. This whole time he had also kept and maintained his paired pistols, sturdy, well made flintlocks that lacked the fanciness or complexity of some weapons, and departed into the northern most portion of Peruzia. Operating out of Fernetti's Horn, he would sell his services as a guide and fighter, putting to good use both the formal training he received growing up, blended with the brutal and vicious tribal fighting of the Glin'tur.

Two years would pass like this, earning the nickname of the "Silver Eyed Devil" for his downright underhanded fighting tactics, when much to Weiland's surprise, a Letter of Marque made out for him would find itself finally delivered to him.

Fire Emblem: Sword and Sail

Portrait

Name:
Weiland Voss

Alias/Nicknames:
Wei (Among Friends), Arak'tur (Noble Storm in his adopted tribes name), Silver Eyed Devil (Mostly family and those unfamiliar with him)

Date of Birth:
April 22nd, 1751

Gender:
Male

Sexuality:
Heterosexual

Class:
Nomad

Stats:
Strength: 13
Willpower: 13
Dexterity: 14
Speed: 13
Toughness: 13
Luck: 1

Skills:

Class Skill: Awareness

Deft Hands - When it comes to dexterity and working with fine motor skills, Weiland has an unusual knack for it. Be it reloading a musket or pistol at speed, assembling or disassembling traps, or other fine detailed work, the nomad is capable of doing so fast and accurately beyond what his peers normally would expect.

Close Quarters Combat - Despite the musket and pistols he carries, Weiland is a deft and fast hand in a brawl, preferring the knife he earned from his adopted tribe many years ago, coupled with employing leverage and putting people off balance to leave them vulnerable to finishing blows with said knife or to create enough distance to shoot them instead, employing the fast, brutal style of his adopted tribe's fighters.

Light Footed - Coupled with the dexterous hands, Weiland is able to not only cross most difficult terrain faster and more easily than normal, employing a variety of fast movement and, at times, brute force, but also tends to walk lightly enough to avoid tripping pressure plate traps, though tripwires will still trigger if he isn't paying attention for obvious reasons. He can also guide others, though he is limited to their speed to ensure they can safely traverse the hazards.

Trapper - Weiland has grown familiar with traps, to the point of not only using his personal kit to set them up when being pursued or protecting a camp, but also in identifying them as well as putting them to a newer, maybe less honest, purpose. After all, traps are for all sorts of prey, sometimes a little bigger than your average beast.

Equipment:
Musket
Khukri Knife
Trapper's Toolkit
x2 Flintlock Pistols

Appearance:
It is hard to tell that Weiland came from one of the Fioretza merchant families, having gone native shortly after being sent to oversee family holdings in the new world. This is mainly due to his stance and attire, always wary and expecting trouble, and dressed like the wanderer traders that still operate in the province of Peruzia. Standing at a meager 5'9", with a mess of dirty brown hair often times covered by the hood, one can be caught off guard by the steely silver of his eyes, a trademark of the Voss lineage and by product of constant and controlled breeding.

His attire is that of the tribe that Weiland both adopted, and was adopted by, hood and cloak worn and faded from long travel, the only real color being the red and gold colored scarf wrapped around his neck and dangling loose. Under the cloak and hood is the faded remenants of his old noble's garb, broken in and far more serviceable than new, prettier attire. One could even place the almost knee high boots, worn and faded with use and age, in a noble's court once upon a time.

Personality:
Even before abandoning the family he was firstborn to, Weiland was a stubborn soul, determined to do as he saw fit with his life. That bloody minded stubborness ran in the family, though unfortunately it was poised against pretty much everything the Voss merchant family had stood for. This gave the young Weiland a devil may care, flippant attitude that he carries with him casually to this day, coupled with a world weariness that really should not have been in a man so young. This was lessened to a degree by his time fighting alongside the tribe he was supposed to bring to heel and prevent the undercutting of profit for, giving him a more balanced, yet pragmatic, view of the world. Wanderlust is an eternal battle for Weiland, however, as it had driven him to agree to his family effectively kicking him out to the New World, driven him to abandon his entire life in favor of a chance at something new, and drove him to seek fortunes outside the tribe.

In short, Weiland is quick to deconstruct things as they are, being blunt and to the point with little regard for authority, though shows sometimes uncharacteristic excitement when faced with something new, or the potential for facing the new and unknown. Add in a dash of that well known Fioretzan spirit, which still rings true in Weiland, and you have a rather rough and tumultuous bundle to deal with, though invaluable for what he brings, and he knows it.

Biography:
The Voss Merchant House of the Social Republic of Fioretza, as the full, formal title on the coat of arms reads, is an old and established family, though one that is known for its risk taking and willingness to dig their heels in and push back hard. Founded and centered in Ocella, the capital of Fioretza, would maintain a tradition of the firstborn taking the rightful place that the father, and current Patron, of the house would leave in his wake after his passing. Weiland was born into such expectations, and was expected to learn everything deemed necessary, and many things that would improve upon what was already built by his father's hands. What none of them were ready for, Weiland included, would be how he responded to these demands and expectations.

Eventually, at the age of sixteen, his father and family Patron gave him an ultimatum. Fall in line, or head to holdings in the New World and see to sorting out recent problems with local tribes refusing to work within their lawfully given roles. For the Voss Merchant House, being forcibly sent to the New World was an exile, and it was expected to either scare him straight, or at least give him practical experience before he was called back. Weiland walked out, heading for the family docks with his meager belongings, a pair of pistols given to him for protection in the New World, and set sail for the province of Peruzia. It would not be an easy trip, the weather seeming to oppose the merchant ship at every turn, though they were fortunate enough to not run afoul of privateers or pirates targeting Fioretzan vessels.

Weiland would arrive and, much to the surprise of the aging aunt who had been running things and sending routine complaints about the tribals not falling in line, demanded to be given a means to meet with this tribe. With a local interpreter hired on, Weiland would spend the next two years meeting with and negotiating with the Glin'tur tribe, Silvered Storm tribe, though he grew to spend more time learning about them and their ways instead of actually working out how to fix the issues between his family holdings, and the tribal needs and desires. By his eighteenth birthday, he was fluent in the tribal language the Glin'tur shared with many others like them, and was made an offer by the tribe Matron, to join them and live a life he clearly was seeking and sorely needed.

Much to the shock of his bodyguards, who had been assigned to partially make sure he didn't go native and escape, Weiland simply turned up missing one day. Patrols were sent out, bounty hunters hired, and for awhile the Voss Merchant House searched for their missing firstborn. Rumors of a "Silver eyed tribal" always brought them running, though after several years they had given up spending concerted efforts, only sending the odd, dedicated parties and bounty hunters were only promised pay should they actually find and return him alive and well. Weiland would learn that his younger sister of several years would be taking over in his stead, a rare break of tradition due to his refusal to fall in line with his family desires. He would spend ten years with the Glin'tur tribe, wandering and learning to fight and move as they did.

Shortly after Weiland's 28th birthday, the wanderlust and desire to roam settled in again, much to the chagrin of a tribeswoman only a few years his junior. Such things were not unheard of, and even encouraged at times, as it allowed diversity and experience to be shared among the tribes, strengthening them all. Weiland was given his musket and the signature blade of the Glin'tur, a large, curved knife that functioned both as tool and weapon, as well as being allowed to keep his trappers kit and some basic supplies, before he set out. This whole time he had also kept and maintained his paired pistols, sturdy, well made flintlocks that lacked the fanciness or complexity of some weapons, and departed into the northern most portion of Peruzia. Operating out of Fernetti's Horn, he would sell his services as a guide and fighter, putting to good use both the formal training he received growing up, blended with the brutal and vicious tribal fighting of the Glin'tur.

Two years would pass like this, earning the nickname of the "Silver Eyed Devil" for his downright underhanded fighting tactics, when much to Weiland's surprise, a Letter of Marque made out for him would find itself finally delivered to him.

Veritas Lux Mea

Ansgar Staudinger

Glaring at Andrea with a evil eye when she dared to mention trying to keep him from doing anything on the ship without talking to her first, his remark was rather pointed and blunt given the idea itself was absolutely absurd. That would be like expecting a cook to talk to the person who drove supplies to the kitchen before cooking, or the doctor to discuss the procedure with the damned janitor. The day he willingly went groveling to some jumped up flightstick fiddling, egotistical tosser like her, he'd swallow his own gun. "Oh, aye, ah'll jus' soddin' giv' up e'en t'e slig't'st o' repair's 'till ah've begged fer yer blessin'. Go stroke yer ego s'me mo'e, bitc', an' stic' to all yer good fer, ferryin' the adults w'ere t'ey need t' be. Glor'fied, 'xpend'ble taxi driv'r..." *

The discussion on the Judge, who apparently was already on board the ship, continued as others arrived from their shore leave, bringing supplies and the like, mainly the point that the Judge would prioritize his mission over their little operation. As much as he didn't trust or enjoy having a Judge on board, it was a good point, though he had to offer a slight rebuttel, taking a minute to fish a coffin nail out from one of his pockets and light it, taking a long drag and blowing the smoke up into the air. He wouldn't just go trusting this Judge, even if he ended up aiding them along the way, government figures tended to not be the most reliable sort. "Aye, 'e'll not bot'er us, rig't 'till it suit's 'im to bot'er us. A'd keep 'least one good ey' on 'im, jus' t' be sure, savvy?" **

The Captain's remark on his home brought a snort, whether of amusement or annoyance was hard to say as Ansgar got the last crate he had assigned to him loaded up, turning back to smirk rather off puttingly for a few moments, half smoked cigarette hanging from his mouth as he rebutted on her remark. Whether he was purely jesting or took offense to the remark was hard to say, though odds were he really didn't and was just mouthing off again. "O' aye, tras' talk me 'ome away from 'ome, ah'll not mind. Not at soddin' all Lass. T'is 'eap resupplied t'e s'ip, so ah' wouldn't be t' quick to disparage, aye? Ah'll be in t'e engine room if'n ye need me." ***

With that, Ansgar took another drag, blowing the smoke outside before marching inside of the ship, making a beeline back towards the engine room, which was where he all but lived while they were in transit. He preferred being back there during transitions from space to docks, especially ground based ones, though fortunately the Hub wasn't by far one of the less rough exits for most ships that weren't strapped to it for long term stays. Barring corrupt or greedy 'officials' trying to bribe or steal what they can off those too stupid to know better, but that wasn't them. Once back in the engine room, he'd undo the top half of his heavy attire, tying it off like a waistband using the sleeves, leaving the tank top, and arms covered in tattoos, exposed. It got warm in the engine room, and he'd rather have the flexibility and dexterity of a tanktop and exposed arms than the dubious protections of the heavy attire he wore outside the engine room.

Translations

* "Oh, aye, I'll just sodding give up even the slightest of repairs until I've begged for your blessing. Go stroke your ego some more, bitch, and stick to all your good for, ferrying the adults where they need to be. Glorified, expendable taxi driver..."

** "Aye, he'll not bother us, right until it suits him to bother us. I'd keep at least one good eye on him, just to be sure, savvy?"

*** "Oh aye, trash talk me home away from home, I'll not mind. Not at sodding all Lass. This heap resupplied the ship, so I wouldn't be too quick to disparage, aye? I'll be in the engine room if you will be needing me."

Veritas Lux Mea

Ansgar Staudinger

Ansgar was moving crates at a brisk pace, seemingly unbothered by the smell that was no doubt getting to the others. The Hub was home for him, well home in this new place humanity had found themselves in, and he'd grown up with the stench and culture that humanity that had drifted into the Hub had found themselves in. He was all but grinning and humming to himself, comfortable at home despite having been disowned by his family. He'd been catching up with old gang members during his free time, putting his ear to the ground as it were and digging around for information as to current rumors and goings on. The arrival of the Veritas Lux Mea had indeed generated a lot of rumors and discussions as to why that ship was here. He'd not divulged his position on board said ship, of course, he was gathering information not handing it out, but it gave him some interesting thoughts as to what was going on at the Hub.

His attention was dragged over to his current superior as she muttered complaints about where their passenger was supposed to be. Ah, yes, the Judge, Ansgar was not looking forward to that. Anyone who'd any experience in the criminal in this new place knew about Judges, and the amount of trouble they tended to bring along with them. And yet, here they were, about to shuffle one to wherever the sodding hell the bastard wanted to be. He did speak up in response to the captain, in his own manner of speaking of course, hefting up another crate as he spoke, continuing to work while remarking on the situation at hand. "Well shite lass, th' sodding wanker doesn' show, tha's less stress. Tosser's are nothin' but trouble. Least got ye'self a down payment, jus' in case?"