Damycles
Izurich
Vesuvius00
Noctis
TaintedMushroom
Theyra
xxjessicaxx
13org
KjbivinsThe human child you have armed with a weapon has a vocabulary best described as both impoverished and colourful. As I have set my own aside, we only ask the same for her and your anguilliform companion.
The stutter-rhythm of taps the vrexul sent back was for Salvator's eyes only. Given by how Husk glared at the lumbering creature, he was all but ready to get physical with Kleo and by the way shining pointed tips emerged from its fingers, the sole gealtirocht in the room had also earned their ire.
Husk's meat-on-bone lips but the mantis limb flicked in front of their face, stifling any words but from beneath his glare was certain. Glistening blade-point digits pointed at the digitigrade alien and then at a baton emerging from a storage compartment on his thigh, scraping against his fingers.
A challenge, a duel, but one that would have to wait after the raid on the Sargasso.
From what Rho-Hux's scans could make out, the majority of Husk's biomatter readings came out as some mixture of fungoid like semi-plant matter, similar to those of tarrhaidim but of a partially synthetic nature. It was similar to donated tissue from the fungoids but it came from a fairly small set of sources (maybe three or four) when it wasn't clearly synthetic. The cybernetics beneath such were difficult to get a read on due to some sort of ECM integrated within, but the way they fitted into its flesh suggested they were frequently replaced and upgraded.
Additional life signs were noted. Signatures pulsed back and forth from within its body and further scans revealed some sort of worm-like masses; whether machinery or actual, living, blessed worms of the tarrhaidim was difficult to discern.
Human; genetically and originally, it was a human. The amount of human biomass left was a mere fragment of the tarrhaidim biomaterial, but it was the core the rest was built around. A notable percentage was its brain, but that didn't appear to be stored inside of its head, at least not entirely, and the rest of it was deep in the core of its midsection and ribs. A large portion was bone but it was aggressively reinforced with foreign materials, much of which was organic, to the point initial scans didn't detect it as purely human in composition.
"They are animals, little teeming insects whose rock has been kicked over and now find a thousand eyes dumbly staring at them, prodding with stucks and hunting for rare specimens. The pirates and whomever pays them are fools; I trust you and the other voidwalker won't be of a similar stripe."
The Scielto, callsign "Flux", half-song voice wafting about as it turned its head to watch the diffusing confrontation with an amused chortle. In practice, akin to a series of chords roughly plucked on a stringed instrument. Its attention thent urned to Ilshar.
"A bold statement; are you a mystic of some sort? Which do you worship; the Spore-Moon or the worms that thrive inside of it? I've seen countless tarrhaidim come and go. I don't think I will ever truly understand the sorceries they employ and the force they worship."
He raised a finger at the tarrhaidim's mention of coordinates.
"Don't worry about being particularly accurate. Point where you want it, and we'll find a way to make an exit - you can just take a look at Harvest."
One of its tendril wings curled over its shoulder, pointing its tip at the walking tank.
"Take a guess as to how they plan to handle on-the-spot renovations. You wouldn't happen to have particle shields with you would you?"
Harvest turned one of its dome-eyes towards King, paused, then its head rotated left and right. A slow-motion rendition of a shaking head; something likely foreign to its native culture.
"Your coral-machine, it will be accompany us in its totality. The gunships themselves are modified transportation platforms. Anti-gravitational jets and an array of attached star junk to disguise them as drifting wreckage. Each one possesses a vrexul quartet, loaded for air-to-ground. Yours will bear a meaner bite; I have seen the specifications of the tank-body belonging to your Reverberation. Additional stabilizers will be attached to your gunship before our departure."
With little else to say, the teams made their preparations for an excursion into hard vacuum.
Two dropships approached the blot upon the solar horizon.
Two chunks of debris drifted behind them. The faint blue glow of anti-gravitational jets propelled them forwards.
The Sargasso was an uglier sight in person through hull-mounted camera feeds than it was through the recorded footage. There, it seemed almost a creation of perverse artistry with no respect for the boundaries between architectural design and bioethereal science.
Even with the blurs caused by particle-shielding distorting their view, the derelict station resembled a gigantic and severely infected pustule. Rendered with a mixture of metal and ethereal meat, there was as absolute disregard for any visual consistency. Harsh geometry had been conquered by the strange sides of deep space and deeper chasm, and what emerged and grew in size as they neared seemed ready to swallow all that ever was in its infested majesty.
The dropships themselves, sleek like diving beetles if less darting and abrupt in motions, began to diverge as the fields of debris got thicker. Dismembered chunks of hull passed precariously close yet even if none were in the way, the dropship would dip and bob. If their cameras swivelled back, pulsing masses of teal-white biomatter gunk would manifest then fade.
The source could be seen distantly ahead, growing in clarity and definition. Ramshackle vessels some at least as old as the Veiled wars, shaped like pitchforks and jutting with irregular refurbishings whether armor or equipment, blasted away at rampant vacuum-coral. The darkened growths the colour of burnt meat flared and rendered themselves transparent as they exploded into flickering messes of splatter and miasma. Innumerable symbiotes rushed out if not deeper into the bowels of the vessel, fleeing into or away from scouring cannon fire.
Dropships flitted in and out of makeshift ports a few clicks away, likely ferrying the wounded and bringing back fresh forces.
The cameras were overran with static and all feeds temporarily ceased. A sensation of gripping tension and coldness washed over the vessel as the membrane-like wall of degraded, qillatu-esque expended ether was pierced as were the mucus-like barriers it had gotten stuck to. All four vessels were shielded and as the feeds returned, those who hadn't had to tense up before the rush of malevolence would see them splitting off towards the massive towers rising proud and arrogant from the Sargasso's centre.
"Radio silence from this point onwards in 40 seconds. Area Of Interest markers have been put on all your HUD's, maps, and navigation data. Once the other team acquires tower control, we'll have secure channels."
The Invictoid's voice crackled over the built in speakers as the other two ships vanished behind a disgorged piece of station. Long veins like severed worms trailed purple gush behind themselves amidst a plethora of fragmenting junk. All of it bounced off against the lightly distorting blur-in-space that was the dropship's particle shielding.
"A word of advice; the combined firepower of the warform and four vrexul should be able to destroy most obstacles. It may also catch the attention of creatures and pirates alike. Be on your watch."
Through frontal camera feeds, a relatively unblemished area of the station loomed ahead. The shadow of a massive tendril-blanch lazily hung overhead as if providing some sort of shade in the empty depths of space. The mossy splotching and invasive moldering was lesser here, at most a few reddish veins strethced across fadeded greyish-white and green bulkheads and armor.
Already multiple entry points could be seen as the dropship neared its deployment point.
-
A large circular hatch near a wall of bulkheads jutting out in a sloping pattern tapering towards the station's edges.
A scarred spot of a station surface they would be standing upon where a flow of small particles wafted out, bearing the marks of some sort of energy weapon burning.
A large drone port built into the wall, seemingly untouched by any of the carnage and corruption the Sargasso had endured.
A bulbous orb made of a bio-ethereal film of sorts, pulsing and sinking but not able to hide the view of the station within. It had grown over a hole blown into the stop, this one by a solid round, and blinking electronics could be seen through its surface.
-
The doors of the dropsip opened as it hovered over a spot of the station roughly between all three. Their associated gunship hovered past, mimicking the drift of the debris and ambient ether-currents of the region yet never fully leaving their sight. The vessel awaited the team to depart and begin the operation.
The stutter-rhythm of taps the vrexul sent back was for Salvator's eyes only. Given by how Husk glared at the lumbering creature, he was all but ready to get physical with Kleo and by the way shining pointed tips emerged from its fingers, the sole gealtirocht in the room had also earned their ire.
Husk's meat-on-bone lips but the mantis limb flicked in front of their face, stifling any words but from beneath his glare was certain. Glistening blade-point digits pointed at the digitigrade alien and then at a baton emerging from a storage compartment on his thigh, scraping against his fingers.
A challenge, a duel, but one that would have to wait after the raid on the Sargasso.
From what Rho-Hux's scans could make out, the majority of Husk's biomatter readings came out as some mixture of fungoid like semi-plant matter, similar to those of tarrhaidim but of a partially synthetic nature. It was similar to donated tissue from the fungoids but it came from a fairly small set of sources (maybe three or four) when it wasn't clearly synthetic. The cybernetics beneath such were difficult to get a read on due to some sort of ECM integrated within, but the way they fitted into its flesh suggested they were frequently replaced and upgraded.
Additional life signs were noted. Signatures pulsed back and forth from within its body and further scans revealed some sort of worm-like masses; whether machinery or actual, living, blessed worms of the tarrhaidim was difficult to discern.
Human; genetically and originally, it was a human. The amount of human biomass left was a mere fragment of the tarrhaidim biomaterial, but it was the core the rest was built around. A notable percentage was its brain, but that didn't appear to be stored inside of its head, at least not entirely, and the rest of it was deep in the core of its midsection and ribs. A large portion was bone but it was aggressively reinforced with foreign materials, much of which was organic, to the point initial scans didn't detect it as purely human in composition.
"They are animals, little teeming insects whose rock has been kicked over and now find a thousand eyes dumbly staring at them, prodding with stucks and hunting for rare specimens. The pirates and whomever pays them are fools; I trust you and the other voidwalker won't be of a similar stripe."
The Scielto, callsign "Flux", half-song voice wafting about as it turned its head to watch the diffusing confrontation with an amused chortle. In practice, akin to a series of chords roughly plucked on a stringed instrument. Its attention thent urned to Ilshar.
"A bold statement; are you a mystic of some sort? Which do you worship; the Spore-Moon or the worms that thrive inside of it? I've seen countless tarrhaidim come and go. I don't think I will ever truly understand the sorceries they employ and the force they worship."
He raised a finger at the tarrhaidim's mention of coordinates.
"Don't worry about being particularly accurate. Point where you want it, and we'll find a way to make an exit - you can just take a look at Harvest."
One of its tendril wings curled over its shoulder, pointing its tip at the walking tank.
"Take a guess as to how they plan to handle on-the-spot renovations. You wouldn't happen to have particle shields with you would you?"
Harvest turned one of its dome-eyes towards King, paused, then its head rotated left and right. A slow-motion rendition of a shaking head; something likely foreign to its native culture.
"Your coral-machine, it will be accompany us in its totality. The gunships themselves are modified transportation platforms. Anti-gravitational jets and an array of attached star junk to disguise them as drifting wreckage. Each one possesses a vrexul quartet, loaded for air-to-ground. Yours will bear a meaner bite; I have seen the specifications of the tank-body belonging to your Reverberation. Additional stabilizers will be attached to your gunship before our departure."
With little else to say, the teams made their preparations for an excursion into hard vacuum.
Two dropships approached the blot upon the solar horizon.
Two chunks of debris drifted behind them. The faint blue glow of anti-gravitational jets propelled them forwards.
The Sargasso was an uglier sight in person through hull-mounted camera feeds than it was through the recorded footage. There, it seemed almost a creation of perverse artistry with no respect for the boundaries between architectural design and bioethereal science.
Even with the blurs caused by particle-shielding distorting their view, the derelict station resembled a gigantic and severely infected pustule. Rendered with a mixture of metal and ethereal meat, there was as absolute disregard for any visual consistency. Harsh geometry had been conquered by the strange sides of deep space and deeper chasm, and what emerged and grew in size as they neared seemed ready to swallow all that ever was in its infested majesty.
The dropships themselves, sleek like diving beetles if less darting and abrupt in motions, began to diverge as the fields of debris got thicker. Dismembered chunks of hull passed precariously close yet even if none were in the way, the dropship would dip and bob. If their cameras swivelled back, pulsing masses of teal-white biomatter gunk would manifest then fade.
The source could be seen distantly ahead, growing in clarity and definition. Ramshackle vessels some at least as old as the Veiled wars, shaped like pitchforks and jutting with irregular refurbishings whether armor or equipment, blasted away at rampant vacuum-coral. The darkened growths the colour of burnt meat flared and rendered themselves transparent as they exploded into flickering messes of splatter and miasma. Innumerable symbiotes rushed out if not deeper into the bowels of the vessel, fleeing into or away from scouring cannon fire.
Dropships flitted in and out of makeshift ports a few clicks away, likely ferrying the wounded and bringing back fresh forces.
The cameras were overran with static and all feeds temporarily ceased. A sensation of gripping tension and coldness washed over the vessel as the membrane-like wall of degraded, qillatu-esque expended ether was pierced as were the mucus-like barriers it had gotten stuck to. All four vessels were shielded and as the feeds returned, those who hadn't had to tense up before the rush of malevolence would see them splitting off towards the massive towers rising proud and arrogant from the Sargasso's centre.
"Radio silence from this point onwards in 40 seconds. Area Of Interest markers have been put on all your HUD's, maps, and navigation data. Once the other team acquires tower control, we'll have secure channels."
The Invictoid's voice crackled over the built in speakers as the other two ships vanished behind a disgorged piece of station. Long veins like severed worms trailed purple gush behind themselves amidst a plethora of fragmenting junk. All of it bounced off against the lightly distorting blur-in-space that was the dropship's particle shielding.
"A word of advice; the combined firepower of the warform and four vrexul should be able to destroy most obstacles. It may also catch the attention of creatures and pirates alike. Be on your watch."
Through frontal camera feeds, a relatively unblemished area of the station loomed ahead. The shadow of a massive tendril-blanch lazily hung overhead as if providing some sort of shade in the empty depths of space. The mossy splotching and invasive moldering was lesser here, at most a few reddish veins strethced across fadeded greyish-white and green bulkheads and armor.
Already multiple entry points could be seen as the dropship neared its deployment point.
-
A large circular hatch near a wall of bulkheads jutting out in a sloping pattern tapering towards the station's edges.
A scarred spot of a station surface they would be standing upon where a flow of small particles wafted out, bearing the marks of some sort of energy weapon burning.
A large drone port built into the wall, seemingly untouched by any of the carnage and corruption the Sargasso had endured.
A bulbous orb made of a bio-ethereal film of sorts, pulsing and sinking but not able to hide the view of the station within. It had grown over a hole blown into the stop, this one by a solid round, and blinking electronics could be seen through its surface.
-
The doors of the dropsip opened as it hovered over a spot of the station roughly between all three. Their associated gunship hovered past, mimicking the drift of the debris and ambient ether-currents of the region yet never fully leaving their sight. The vessel awaited the team to depart and begin the operation.
