<Snipped quote by LustForDecay>
Would you allow a character that’s basically just there for comedic relief, If not that’s okay because i’m writing 2 more characters as backup just incase
No.
LustForDecay Member
Biomechanical Terror Perversion
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Most Recent Posts
In
The Evenomed: Violent Military SciFi Action Across A Post-War Expanse
→
17 days ago
Forum: Advanced Interest Checks
No.
In
The Evenomed: Violent Military SciFi Action Across A Post-War Expanse
→
18 days ago
Forum: Advanced Interest Checks
<Snipped quote by LustForDecay>
Indeed i have. CS should be done tmr night
When you're done, write us a sample of how you'd introduce your character.
In
The Evenomed: Violent Military SciFi Action Across A Post-War Expanse
→
18 days ago
Forum: Advanced Interest Checks
<Snipped quote by LustForDecay>
I'll Manage. Also almost done on the cs
Have you looked at the lore document?
In
The Evenomed: Violent Military SciFi Action Across A Post-War Expanse
→
18 days ago
Forum: Advanced Interest Checks
<Snipped quote by LustForDecay>
Probably half human half robot i'll Let you know tomorrow, Need to sleep
The level of writing we expect is pretty high. Have you seen the IC?
In
The Evenomed: Violent Military SciFi Action Across A Post-War Expanse
→
19 days ago
Forum: Advanced Interest Checks
This still open?
What kinda character do you have on mind?
In
The Envenomed: Military Science Fiction Deniable Operations
→
20 days ago
Forum: Advanced Roleplay
As the squad cautiously advanced into the room the smell that had greeted them embraced with a foul reek to any biological senses present. It was almost as if it had waited for them to step further from the threshold of the door.
Echo's drones would be the first to gain visual of something silhouetted against the floor behind the fallen tangle of roots and pulsing that lead upstairs. Behind the upwards ramp of fleshy growth, a faint aura of heat radiated outwards of a fallen form on the floor. If the drones spread out towards the room's walls, they'd gain an angle on and the sight of a body.
Oily black sludge of degraded biomatter spread itself outwards of semi-skeletal overgrowth of qillatuform bioforms. A coral of corrupting pulsation and segmented worm-mass colonizing the sludgey remains of a shape that as bipedal in nature but human only by convergent evolution. Bony crests coalescing symetrically across its face creating sharp ridges and flattened valleys, above a small mouth full of pointed teeth. What was left of its body looked like bone patterned as if it were corrugated metal, corrupted and having lost its armorlike rigidity from the corrupting filth that had taken over its remains.
Qillatu radiated albeit lightly, a dull flame or embers at best. The air around it blurred heat-wave like and ether-trails lead away from it. Its body or the qillatu itself had been a food supply for the other denizens of the Sargasso, explaining why it wasn't flooding the room with nauseating vileness.
It was a celaderaka perished of qillatu accumulation. The stench was strong but it was damp, aged, somewhat less overpowering strangely enough as if it had been reeking here for a while. In the sludge of rot surrounding it were bits of junk half buried under the seeping black. A lanyard with tag attached buried under a squirming pile of wormy forms. A labcoat stained black with the waste lightly pouring from the corpse. A handheld device attached to what was left of its left hip, buzzing lightly as in protest of the fluids dripping over itself.
Up in the yellow lighting of the room above, the projected sight of Ilshar saw that the squad was correct that they were not alone. Up through the gaping hole in the collapsed ceiling and there was far more space. Space that was well trodden and used, with ethereal concentrations being higher. Enough that true sight through his probe was blurred and unclear, making out long bridges connecting walls and a long corridor like space, broken up with withered trees and areas where debris had piled up along the floor.
That is what a scan would have unlocked but it would be the tarrhaidim's trained senses that detected something subtler and far more concerning. Movement in slithering patterns, breaking the dense concentration of supernatural miasma - like fish slithering between one's fingers. Shapes that initially seemed little more than clouds of debris gathering around manipulated anomalies of gravity unfurled and slithered through saturated air and-
Carpets of paddling limbs rippling waves of voidsong through consistently undulating forms flattened to hide and to explore trailing antennae like coattails of royalty their movements-
The influx of clarity abruptly stopped as one of them drifted close enough that ethereal senses could make out its shape, form, colour, even the deliberately suppressed pulse of its organs. It was a large creature, roughly 10 feet long and flattened, soft but not delicate and four others with it, slowing as Salvator's masking activated.
Not invisible to the naked eye but not yet close enough to the ceiling hole they would be able to see the translucent distortions of light. A worm-like chasm-creature, exact species difficult to determine but the spectral scent of qillatu not of its own was present trialing behind them. They had been feeding on those less fortunate but the sudden cessation of signatures within the room must have drawn their curiosity.
As Ilshar focused on the upstairs, the rest of the squad would hear a long, grainy groan. It sounded, no it was mechanical to an extent; the amount of ships and other stations the Sargasso had absorbed into itself and their conflicting gravities would cause parts to scrape, press, crush, and protest against one another.
Groans like that weren't so... modulated however, seemingly louder on the way here than when they rumbled through the doors. The flesh-vines holding them together shrivelled and tightened. Both doors struggled to close but ther correlating mechanisms crackled and cranked, long since broken from years of disrepair.
A chorus of such rickety machinery followed the groan from the doors. The teal light emerging from behind intensified then diminished. Whatever provided light struggled against what could be assumed to be the failing electronics and weak ethereal concentrations powering the ghostly glow peeking out at them.
Echo's drones would be the first to gain visual of something silhouetted against the floor behind the fallen tangle of roots and pulsing that lead upstairs. Behind the upwards ramp of fleshy growth, a faint aura of heat radiated outwards of a fallen form on the floor. If the drones spread out towards the room's walls, they'd gain an angle on and the sight of a body.
Oily black sludge of degraded biomatter spread itself outwards of semi-skeletal overgrowth of qillatuform bioforms. A coral of corrupting pulsation and segmented worm-mass colonizing the sludgey remains of a shape that as bipedal in nature but human only by convergent evolution. Bony crests coalescing symetrically across its face creating sharp ridges and flattened valleys, above a small mouth full of pointed teeth. What was left of its body looked like bone patterned as if it were corrugated metal, corrupted and having lost its armorlike rigidity from the corrupting filth that had taken over its remains.
Qillatu radiated albeit lightly, a dull flame or embers at best. The air around it blurred heat-wave like and ether-trails lead away from it. Its body or the qillatu itself had been a food supply for the other denizens of the Sargasso, explaining why it wasn't flooding the room with nauseating vileness.
It was a celaderaka perished of qillatu accumulation. The stench was strong but it was damp, aged, somewhat less overpowering strangely enough as if it had been reeking here for a while. In the sludge of rot surrounding it were bits of junk half buried under the seeping black. A lanyard with tag attached buried under a squirming pile of wormy forms. A labcoat stained black with the waste lightly pouring from the corpse. A handheld device attached to what was left of its left hip, buzzing lightly as in protest of the fluids dripping over itself.
Up in the yellow lighting of the room above, the projected sight of Ilshar saw that the squad was correct that they were not alone. Up through the gaping hole in the collapsed ceiling and there was far more space. Space that was well trodden and used, with ethereal concentrations being higher. Enough that true sight through his probe was blurred and unclear, making out long bridges connecting walls and a long corridor like space, broken up with withered trees and areas where debris had piled up along the floor.
That is what a scan would have unlocked but it would be the tarrhaidim's trained senses that detected something subtler and far more concerning. Movement in slithering patterns, breaking the dense concentration of supernatural miasma - like fish slithering between one's fingers. Shapes that initially seemed little more than clouds of debris gathering around manipulated anomalies of gravity unfurled and slithered through saturated air and-
Carpets of paddling limbs rippling waves of voidsong through consistently undulating forms flattened to hide and to explore trailing antennae like coattails of royalty their movements-
The influx of clarity abruptly stopped as one of them drifted close enough that ethereal senses could make out its shape, form, colour, even the deliberately suppressed pulse of its organs. It was a large creature, roughly 10 feet long and flattened, soft but not delicate and four others with it, slowing as Salvator's masking activated.
Not invisible to the naked eye but not yet close enough to the ceiling hole they would be able to see the translucent distortions of light. A worm-like chasm-creature, exact species difficult to determine but the spectral scent of qillatu not of its own was present trialing behind them. They had been feeding on those less fortunate but the sudden cessation of signatures within the room must have drawn their curiosity.
As Ilshar focused on the upstairs, the rest of the squad would hear a long, grainy groan. It sounded, no it was mechanical to an extent; the amount of ships and other stations the Sargasso had absorbed into itself and their conflicting gravities would cause parts to scrape, press, crush, and protest against one another.
Groans like that weren't so... modulated however, seemingly louder on the way here than when they rumbled through the doors. The flesh-vines holding them together shrivelled and tightened. Both doors struggled to close but ther correlating mechanisms crackled and cranked, long since broken from years of disrepair.
A chorus of such rickety machinery followed the groan from the doors. The teal light emerging from behind intensified then diminished. Whatever provided light struggled against what could be assumed to be the failing electronics and weak ethereal concentrations powering the ghostly glow peeking out at them.
The hatch itself wasn't rusted or broken. Electronics flickered and blinked as they were accessed with lights flicking around the manual access levers and grips hidden behind retractable or flipping components. The fogged-over slit stared back at them but they could see multiple mechanisms unlocking, hissing out smoke, sealing the chamber as the hatch's lights blinked red. Smoke billowed out of the edges as the portal opened to a dull teal room. Lights on the floor and ceiling peered at the squad as they entered and the hatch shut behind them.
Pressure readjusted, sanitizing gas filled the chamber, gravity stabilized as the door before them groaned, creaked, and retracted.
The Sargasso welcomed them to its depths.
The corridor itself was narrow and already crowded with a mixture of debris both artificial and uneartly in origin. If they entered the corridor they would find doors collapsed inwards, crushed like broken spines before rooms where collapsed ceilings lay meshed over by rampant growths. Growth reddish and fleshy, coalescing into bioluminescent bulbs complimenting the flicker of dying neon.
Oxygen was low but not absent, mixed in with a variety of strange chemicals likely from the creeping flesh-like growths. Gravity was low - bits of shattered furniture and fixtures hovered and slowly descended as if kicked up by a distant current. The room was chilly and cool with the only heat being faint from the bare electronics needed for functionality and milder still for the carpeting flesh that claimed whatever it could. If not stretching thinner and thinner across the floor, drifting lazily outside the windows.
Past a door sucked into a floor by a veiny mess of void-mold, they would come across a room where seeping flesh had long since conquered cold metal.
On their HUD's and augmented visual displays, markers superimposed themselves across the moldering terrain. Each was chased by a series of digital trails racing through the door being pried open by pulsing roots and the circular hole in the ceiling. A timer manifested as well.
TIME UNTIL COMMUNICATIONS RE-ESTABLISHED - EST. 30:00 MINUTES.
On their digitized map, they were still around the edges of the Sargasso, roughly two and a half clicks towards a point where the overlaid navigation trails diverged, offering roughly three visible paths towards the crashed ships. The path through the pried-open door appeared to present a longer, straightforward shot to the forking paths but the map data was incomplete. The ceiling hole featured more obstructions but data for it was more readily available.
The envenomed were on the far side away of the station from where pirate vessels had been spotted foraying into and blasting the derelict station. That did not account for prior incursions into the Sargasso however.
Nor did it account for the sounds already wafting into the room.
It was a dull ambience in the background at first, electronic and feeble - an inconsistent twittering buzz that followed them as they entered the first room and were able to see the full extent of the infestation. Feel and hear it squelch under feet and whisper in the residual echo of ethereosynthesized qillatu, the touch of ether lingering from years upon years of falling in and out of the Oneiric Chasm. Sounds that echoed not just in the very space they occupied but float like fragments of thoughts, intruding upon the conscious mind, hiding behind the clouds of their consciousness before vanishing.
For the voidhangers, Ilshar, and Rho-Hux there was something more. They could feel something, almost like viscous fluid of some sort, sliding along the surfaces as if even if not communing with them, nonetheless was overheard by senses attuned to the otherworldly. There were two streams of this liquid-like sensation, following to trails of creeping tendrils - the more powerful signatures stretched upwards into a room lit by faded yellowing lights and a comparatively feeble one through the door those growths kept pulled open.
Behind the collapsed ceiling that lead upstairs, a variety of blue-white computer screens faded and glowed as if they were eyes struggling to stay awake. The meaty growths did not crowd around or over them save for a few strands across their edges, silhouetted against their pulsing electronic blink. There was a smell that emerged from behind where the ceiling had fallen down, something rank and foul - finely rotted and by its strength, recent.
Of note was that the large hole in the ceiling appeared to be under a holographic display projector. A very dated model buried under the creeping void-filth but the ceiling-mounted image maintenance hardware was absent, not embedded into the gunk but seemingly removed. By the various indents along the branch-like masses that formred a bridge from the current floor to the one above, they had been used very frequently.
Very distantly, a sound like a wailing throb wafted through the corridors. The echo itself was not a series of paused phrases or tones but a single and long pulse uninterrupted and strangely clear. Little distortion could be heard but it diminished gradually as if patrolling the unseen passages above - from the map they were given, apparently some sort of larger hallway area or an environmental regulation chamber. Scanners detected a degree of fuel of some sort splattered about upstairs - possibly for shuttles or some of the older model thrusters on the aged station.
Pressure readjusted, sanitizing gas filled the chamber, gravity stabilized as the door before them groaned, creaked, and retracted.
The Sargasso welcomed them to its depths.
The corridor itself was narrow and already crowded with a mixture of debris both artificial and uneartly in origin. If they entered the corridor they would find doors collapsed inwards, crushed like broken spines before rooms where collapsed ceilings lay meshed over by rampant growths. Growth reddish and fleshy, coalescing into bioluminescent bulbs complimenting the flicker of dying neon.
Oxygen was low but not absent, mixed in with a variety of strange chemicals likely from the creeping flesh-like growths. Gravity was low - bits of shattered furniture and fixtures hovered and slowly descended as if kicked up by a distant current. The room was chilly and cool with the only heat being faint from the bare electronics needed for functionality and milder still for the carpeting flesh that claimed whatever it could. If not stretching thinner and thinner across the floor, drifting lazily outside the windows.
Past a door sucked into a floor by a veiny mess of void-mold, they would come across a room where seeping flesh had long since conquered cold metal.
On their HUD's and augmented visual displays, markers superimposed themselves across the moldering terrain. Each was chased by a series of digital trails racing through the door being pried open by pulsing roots and the circular hole in the ceiling. A timer manifested as well.
TIME UNTIL COMMUNICATIONS RE-ESTABLISHED - EST. 30:00 MINUTES.
On their digitized map, they were still around the edges of the Sargasso, roughly two and a half clicks towards a point where the overlaid navigation trails diverged, offering roughly three visible paths towards the crashed ships. The path through the pried-open door appeared to present a longer, straightforward shot to the forking paths but the map data was incomplete. The ceiling hole featured more obstructions but data for it was more readily available.
The envenomed were on the far side away of the station from where pirate vessels had been spotted foraying into and blasting the derelict station. That did not account for prior incursions into the Sargasso however.
Nor did it account for the sounds already wafting into the room.
It was a dull ambience in the background at first, electronic and feeble - an inconsistent twittering buzz that followed them as they entered the first room and were able to see the full extent of the infestation. Feel and hear it squelch under feet and whisper in the residual echo of ethereosynthesized qillatu, the touch of ether lingering from years upon years of falling in and out of the Oneiric Chasm. Sounds that echoed not just in the very space they occupied but float like fragments of thoughts, intruding upon the conscious mind, hiding behind the clouds of their consciousness before vanishing.
For the voidhangers, Ilshar, and Rho-Hux there was something more. They could feel something, almost like viscous fluid of some sort, sliding along the surfaces as if even if not communing with them, nonetheless was overheard by senses attuned to the otherworldly. There were two streams of this liquid-like sensation, following to trails of creeping tendrils - the more powerful signatures stretched upwards into a room lit by faded yellowing lights and a comparatively feeble one through the door those growths kept pulled open.
Behind the collapsed ceiling that lead upstairs, a variety of blue-white computer screens faded and glowed as if they were eyes struggling to stay awake. The meaty growths did not crowd around or over them save for a few strands across their edges, silhouetted against their pulsing electronic blink. There was a smell that emerged from behind where the ceiling had fallen down, something rank and foul - finely rotted and by its strength, recent.
Of note was that the large hole in the ceiling appeared to be under a holographic display projector. A very dated model buried under the creeping void-filth but the ceiling-mounted image maintenance hardware was absent, not embedded into the gunk but seemingly removed. By the various indents along the branch-like masses that formred a bridge from the current floor to the one above, they had been used very frequently.
Very distantly, a sound like a wailing throb wafted through the corridors. The echo itself was not a series of paused phrases or tones but a single and long pulse uninterrupted and strangely clear. Little distortion could be heard but it diminished gradually as if patrolling the unseen passages above - from the map they were given, apparently some sort of larger hallway area or an environmental regulation chamber. Scanners detected a degree of fuel of some sort splattered about upstairs - possibly for shuttles or some of the older model thrusters on the aged station.
The 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.
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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.
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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.
Can we port over factions from the last rp?
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