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    1. TemplarKnight07 9 yrs ago

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Also as for turn orders, do you want us to wait until everyone posts for a given sections, or for example shall Vor and I continue with our interactions within the section we're in until the others show up?
Welp, yet another question for me - do you guys insist on colouring dialogue? I mean, I don't normally do it, but if everyone else is going to, I might as well for uniformity.


I usually don't actually, though it could prove useful for collabs just to keep track of who is saying at a glance, and I feel unless we shorten up the posts (which I feel we probably will, but all the same), we'll be doing a bunch of collabs.
Pretty sure you know I'm here, and otherwise you know where else to find me.
I also wrote my scene with the potential intent that some of the others might stumble upon him on the way to Comms, actually have Malkath show off some interaction beyond interacting with his own mind . . . even though he'll be a bloody mess. lol
Still here, just considering how to proceed.
Balthier likewise to Lethodus took the opportunity to turn away from his professional rival, business with him could wait, he wished to see as well which other Hunters had received word to come here.

The Hunter Carlo Battio had been the first to reach them, a native Revossan and career soldier, though nowhere near as overbearing as the Knight Lethodus who was known for his ability and his joviality. He got along with the Hunter, though they hadn't had many opportunities to work together professionally. He inclined his hat as he addressed Carlo's comment.

"Long, but the road always leads one to cross paths again eventually."

The younger Huntress Yin Liu was an enigma to Balthier, he knew so little about her other than that she had made a name for herself as a "Fire dancer", as he was busy travelling most of the time and hadn't really been acquainted with her, much like Carlo, but she seemed nice enough, so he gave her a casual greeting. Her companion, the banished Hunter Asychis Nefer whom had now apparently become a monk was another story. Though he was prone to travelling a lot and didn't hear much of the internal actions within the House of Fire, he had heard of Nefer's banishment, as the cause of it had travelled with the wind. He didn't begrudge Nefer his decision, Balthier knew that if it would do any good, he would have done the same to get vengeance on the crimes the Lornitines had exhibited upon his own family and people. What he did begrudge was how Nefer had done it, the man had let his rage consume him, and turned the powers the Order had given him upon beings who were not Undead, a grave offence. But then, perhaps the Monks dealt with that as well judging by his current demeanour, and Gods knew that if Lethodus spoke truly, they'd need all the help they could get. Thus, Balthier decided to be cordial with the former Hunter, he didn't even bother looking at the letter, Lethodus would know if it was a forgery.

"Nonsense, I'd say even if Master Lydic hadn't requested your presence, it'd still be welcome. I'll leave it to Lethodus to explain since I don't fully know myself, but matters may very well have lent towards us asking for your assistance regardless."

Hunter Xho Sulune's appearance was a welcome sight, he and Xho had crossed passed several times on the road and had worked together a few times on occasion, they got along quite well. They had shared life experiences despite their drastically different origins which lent themselves well to make them a good pair when they did meet. He replied to Xho's remark as they started walking into the palace.

"Honestly, fairly rough lately, though the road giveth and taketh away as you well know, and I was rewarded in equal measure to the challenge I was posed just recently. I'll tell you later."

Speaking of which, that "reward" might as well have been burning a hole in his coat pocket, but Balthier refused to talk about until Lethodus had outlined the situation. No point in getting ahead of themselves, or stealing away his thunder. That'd likely just make him more pissed than he was likely to be anyway.

@Argetlam350@Cubix@Aristo@Rekaigan
@TemplarKnight07

Just pondering, but you do realise that the entire point of a Kroot Shaper is to lead their charges down a certain path/to a certain shape?

If a Kroot, such as Malk appears to be doing, just takes on DNA here-and-there from multiple kills/prey/doners...well...he'll end up like a Knarloc, a Krootox or a Chaos Spawn AKA twisted into something without shape.

As I say, I'm sure you know this, but thought I'd check anyway.

Excellent posts from everyone! I'll get my own up soon.


Yeah, I know that's the role of Shapers, and how Malkath isn't one nor possesses one's guidance its why he has the MPD, he's already consumed too many divergent species and the early stages are their different personas are playing with his head, and (for the moment at least) giving him considerable abilities.

I'm thinking almost like an early The Fly scenario, where at his current stage there are more benefits to his condition than drawbacks, but left unchecked, yeah he'll reach an evolutionary dead-end.
Very bloody section for me, but I figured Malkath was due some action.
Malkath kept running through the halls, he heard the sounds of fighting around him in the facility, and desperately wished to find a quarry of his own to kill.

He did not have to wait long, just three more bends in the alarm-blaring halls led him to an antechamber of sorts, with multiple stair ways and paths leading to different parts of the facility or different rooms. Several pirates had gathered there in the panic of the initial strike and were planning their next move forward, until Malkath came upon them.

The Kroot charged them, firing two quick shots with his Kroot Rifle, the shots taking one of the humans in the torso, with the pulse rounds burning neat holes through him. The other two panicked and fired about with their respective las and stub guns. Malkath lept into the air, easily hitting the roof, and using it to increase his momentum, lept down straight at them with a roar. He landed into the pair, knocking both of them down with his frame. Making quick work of the one to his left, he sliced the man's throat open in one swipe with his taloned claws on his left hand, the human dropped his gun and clutched at his throat, croaking hoarsely as blood pumped out of his throat and onto himself and the ground.

Quickly turning to remaining pirate in front of him, Malkath crawled on top of him and using the butt of his Kroot rifle, beat the pirate's face in. Within 3 strikes, the man's face was a mess of crushed bone and blood. Pathetic . . . none of these three had been prey worthy of note. They were . . . what was the human expression? "Lambs to the slaughter."

A fresh growl from behind him immediately caught his attention. A Kroot, evidently one of the pirates, had evidently come to the same meeting place, though arrived too late to help his friends. The fellow Xeno snarled predatorily at Malkath, and Malkath returned the snarl. This Kroot had evidently feasted mostly on humans lately, his body type were exhibiting even more features of humans than Malkath, though he still possessed the characteristic beak and some of the quills of his species, most were in his hair and none were on his body. His talons had mostly become nails, and his frame was bulkier.

The Kroot Pirate put down his own Kroot rifle carefully, and crouched down in a fighting stance before issuing a sharp taunt in the Kroot language (albeit now highly convoluted in its accent), an obvious challenge. Malkath pulled off the Kroot equivalent of grinning, his hair quills stood up straighter and pointed out the back of his head like spikes, and he carefully laid down his own rifles before getting into his own stance and issuing his own challenge.

Within moments the two charged at eachother and were engaged in a brawl. The two of them trying to scratch the other with their claws, or to tear at each other with their beaks, and each possessing fairly considerable speed. Malkath took several slices across the exposed areas of his chest, and narrowly missed having his ear bitten off during a brief clinch. And although both were strong, Malkath was the stronger, likely on account of some of his greenskin DNA. Seizing a break in his opponents defence, he did a swift double kick with his taloned feet that threw him forward and his opponent backward into the steps. Pulling off a quick roll that turned into a lunge at the fellow Kroot, Malkath managed to land on to of him and get him pinned. He quickly plunged his beak into his opponent's neck, tear through muscle, a thin layer of fat, and tearing our arteries as blood spilled out onto him and face and filled his mouth. He let go and leaned back as his opponent cried out in pain, using own hand to try and staunch the flow, the other he swung about wildly desperately trying to get Malkath off of him, to which the Kroot Mercenary simply grabbed the hand and neatly sliced all five of his fingers off in a swift motion.

He then plunged his talons into the chest of the heavily wounded and bleeding Kroot, seeking to penetrate its vital organs and finish this. He stabbed his claws in like knives and worked himself into a frenzy as he slashed, tore, and maimed his opponent until finally he stopped moving. By that point, the stairs were a mess, and his victim's torso was a gore-filled work of art. Calming down, he looked down upon his now dead opponent. Now he was a capable adversary. Do him his honors and make him part of your collection!

Licking his already blood-soaked beak and relishing the more human but still mixed xeno-blood taste, he delved into his opponents torso, eating out his heart, the precious eagle cactus fruit as some ancient humans who had a similarly understanding of such things as Kroot did had apparently once called it, and setting to work consuming his prize like a predator would over its latest catch . . .



Eadoin Kyros


Early in the morning, a delivery boy came to Eadoin Kyros' cramped apartment complex and dropped off his mail like every other morning, though in flipping through the mostly garbage mail, a notice informing him that his rent was two months past due, and some flyers advertising goods from the local market, he found an uncharacteristically small square envelope with no postage stamp and completely blank slip out from amongst the larger set of mail.

Opening the small envelope, he found that it was actually merely a single sheet of paper folded quite carefuly in mimicry of an envelope. Careful not to break the small sheet as he unfolded it, he laid it out and read the small writing upon it.

"Business prospects reviewed, found adequate opportunity for employment, would like to hold an interview immediately and in person at residence, post haste. M & B"

After reading the note, Eadoin then quickly ripped the small note into a couple pieces and ate them. He knew enough to know that his new . . . employers? No, comrades may be the better word now, would appreciate his discretion as much as the Tan'Raga did. Though the note itself was very cryptic in its content, Eadoin knew exactly what it meant, Malcador and Berrick had finally found an opportunity to begin their revolution, and they were offering him a chance to come in on it.

He was both excited and a little anxious for it to begin himself, ever since Tyberia's occupation, the Tan'Raga had retreated in on themselves to the underworld as they planned out how to best take advantage of the occupation. Subsequently, most Gat-men were, for the moment, out of work outside of working as personal security for the Bosses themselves or their properties, and those positions were filled pretty quickly. Hence, explaining Eadoin's current situation. He was left an unemployed former Reaver with neither legal nor illegal work to do, and was left to slowly drain his small amount of funds away. Thus, the opportunity to work and actually find purpose again rather than just wasting away under the Asgardian occupation came as a good surprise to him.

He already had his gear ready to go, his mask, rifle, handcannon, and cutlass stowed away inside a large duffle bag full of spare mechanic's clothes and tools to work on Steam-engine tech. Eadoin took a quick look outside his tiny window at the weather outside, almost complete shit with its oil-sleet fog, so he settled on wearing his old Reaver uniform, the official patches long-since removed, it was merely a worn black overcoat and hat. It would have looked almost gentry-like, had it not evidently seen decades of usage and repair.

He threw the coat on, and then the dufflebag full of gear over his shoulder and across his back, adjusting the strap with all of the gear clinking behind him. He really hoped the oil-sleet didn't get into the old bag, but then he'd done the best he could to ensure it wouldn't. He didn't bother locking his door, since there's nothing in his apartment he'd fret over being stolen anyway, and set off on the path towards the noble district.

It took him several hours of trudging through crummy conditions in the streets to get from his apartment in the lower quarters to his destination, most people he came across were downcast despite the new year having only been two days ago, partly on account of the weather, but also likely on account of the occupation. The Asgardian patrols he did come across seemed more concerned about making sure their own gear still worked and didn't get covered in the oil-sleet than anything else. Eadoin wasn't too worried about being stopped right now though, the Asgardians currently were mostly just there for show at the moment. Sure, they wanted to find Malcador, but they already had a public speaker . . . what was his name? In custody for some trumped up charge and set for a show trial to let everyone know who was now running this city, as well as having a fair number of troops just out walking around as a show of strength. They likely weren't out with any purpose besides: "Look tough.", Eadoin had seen the routine a dozen times before as a Reaver and as as a Gat-man when working with gangsters, and a lot of military men who weren't officers often were just better equipped, and legalized gangsters. Eadoin knew this from experience, he was one.

At the end of his hike, he finally found his goal: the manor house which he'd been told to look for should he get the message. He had no idea who owned the manor beyond the obvious fact it was a noble with money, and that said noble was a sympathizer to the cause.

Eadoin walked up to the front door of the manor, and knocked on the well-finished door with his right hand and yelled inside.

"Eadoin Kyros, Steam-mechanic extraordinaire, I've been summoned for a repair job?"

Eadoin's cover-story was only partially bullshit. Sure, he didn't WORK as a Steam-mechanic by trade since he found the daily work involved boring, but he certainly had the skills to pass off as an adequate one. Another handy skill he'd learned from his Reaver days. Gods, he missed the Raven and his old life, but there was no getting that back now. Time to focus on the now, and see why M & B had called him up.
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