The Man Emperor

Warhammer 50k: The Second Age of Strife

So hard to do long posts when it's just combat hahaha. Just feels like fluff, responding to events from other posts, and then a little of your own to add color without going too OP.

@Krash

Well, we'll be getting to the next part of the arc soon.

The Star-Breakers

Kelmandrar Hryoc

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"We will bring peace after we kill- I mean, shove the gun barrel of democracy down the collective throat of the current government."

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Name: Kelmandrar Hryoc

Nicknames/Titles: Kelmie, Bird Person, Nevermore, CAW CAW, Chicken, Birb,

Age: 97

Gender: A Man

Ship Role: Member. Could go to be a marine or fighter pilot, though he clearly likes to marine more.
Race: Kul'Zarrah - Translates to "Children of the Void"

My Hider

An enigma of the galaxy, it is said that this race of crowfolk came from a star system located within intergalactic space. Those who are present in the Milky Way are hypothesized to either be the survivors of some catastrophe, or a mercantile group that split off from mainstream society. The Kul'Zarrah are famously unforthcoming when it comes to their origins, instead speaking in convoluted riddles when asked about it. Or it could be that they themselves don't even remember.

They are divided into two subspecies. First are the Sarveli; biologically immortal, psychic, enigmatic, needlessly mysterious, possessing glorious wings, and some of the biggest racists you'll ever meet.

On the other hand are the humbler Hursar. The vast majority of them don't have psychic powers, and those who do are weaker than their Sarveli counterparts. The Hursar also lack wings, and aren't immortal (though they still live for around 500 years), but they have supremely perfect memory recall and a sweet disposition. In addition, they are far more numerous. It is unknown just what caused the divergence of the two, but rumors say that it was socioeconomic classes, with the Sarveli being the rich folk that thought dying of old age was cringe.

A high resistance to radiation is how they have inhabited the galactic core for at least five thousand years. It is thought that they genetically modified themselves during their journey from intergalactic space. They can walk around a leaking nuclear reactor without any ill effects.

A curious exception in this galaxy, the Kul'Zarrah practice democracy, with an elected Senate and Chancellor leading them.

The Kul'Zarrah average between 5'2" to 5'8" for the Hursar, while the Sarveli tend to be around 6'1" to 7'.

The Kul'Zarrah are an entirely voidborne race, living in scattered, continent-sized chains of titanic space stations orbiting stars. They are complete with their own ecosystems and geographical features, such as forests, plains, mountain ranges, and seas. Needless to say, these stations are self-sufficient. They're also warp capable, so good luck trying to commit war crimes on them.

Curiously enough, they are most common in the galactic core, forming the Convocation of Kul'Zarr as their united government.

Kul'Zarrah warships are renowned for high quality throughout the galaxy, and are regularly hired by other races to participate in planetary invasions, convoy raids, and full-blown Interstellar wars.

Personality: Kelmandrar is a pretty light-hearted kind of guy, often cracking jokes for no apparent reason other than… well, there's no reason, actually. Either way, being a Hursar Kul'Zarrah, he has what one could describe to be a chill disposition. He has been described as slow to anger, though that just means that pushing over the edge will be extra… spicy.

Nevertheless, having served in the navy as a marine over his long life, Kelmandrar is a fierce warrior. He often taunts and insults his enemies in the middle of a fight, goading them to attack without sufficient preparation. This tactic has been effective at times; sometimes, it's not.

In general, you'd want to keep this Kul'Zarrah around. He listens to the raging vents of other crew members, offers hugs when someone is sad, and will kill your enemies while calling them a bunch of weaklings. Who doesn't want that?

Biography: Kelmandrar hails from the Sar-Vantha Coalition, one of the many Kul'Zarrah station chains that lay within the deepest regresses of the galactic core. There, he lived in what was one of the most dangerous regions of the galaxy. Deadly stellar phenomena, such as gamma ray bursts, supernovae, nebulae, cosmic radiation, and so on were part of everyday life for the Kul'Zarrah of the Sar-Vantha.

Luckily, or unfortunately, depending on your perspective, Sar-Vantha shared the star system with a human colony planet. The humans of that world were descended from a fallen colony ship, which had been lost for years at that point. The Hursar Kul'Zarrah of the Sar-Vantha aided them in surviving on their new planet, while the Sarveli watched from afar with thinly veiled contempt.

And so, Kelmandrar was born into this whole affair. Having a normal childhood and adolescence aside (which, of course, included a 'phase'), he would grow to join the Sar-Vantha navy. He was a marine at first, defending the armed trade ship Solar Seeker from pirates as it travelled from the core to the galactic arms. After about two decades, Kelmandrar went on to become the marine chief of the cruiser Eye of the Storm, which would routinely sortie out to purge pirates and alien monstrosities. The Eye of the Storm also helped defend other worlds from invasions, for the right price, of course.

The turning point would be when the Eye, having been richly paid to participate in a planetary invasion, nuked several cities (probably killing a few million or so) at the behest of their employers. Kelmandrar despised that action, as their contract supposedly didn't have that in mind, but the captain wanted the extra money, either way. And so, Kelmandrar left the Eye of the Storm's crew, not even bothering to leave a letter of resignation. He just left aboard an FTL capable starfighter, wandering from station to station before eventually coming across the Star Breakers.
Powers/Skills:
Path of the Witch: Kelmandrar is one of the few psychics of the Hursar Kul'Zarrah. This isn't too apparent, though. Instead of flashy lightning or cackling pyromania, it consists of short term precognition and enhanced reflexes. He can see attacks coming in about 2 seconds before they hit, making him a menace in a duel. However, multiple opponents attacking at the same time can easily overwhelm this future sight.

Radiation Resistance: Just like the rest of his race, he doesn't give a damn about radiation. He can walk around Chernobyl and simply laugh at its feeble attempts to kill him.
Way of the Sword: Kelmandrar is great at melee. He just is.

The Gun: As a former marine, Kelmandrar is a decent marksman, though he's no sniper.

Starfighter Pilot: He's no fighter ace, but he certainly knows how to use one and dogfights reasonably well.

Equipment:

Chainsword: Kelmandrar's melee weapon of choice is a blade with superheated, revolving teeth. It can grind through most body armor, and will cauterize any wounds it inflicts (while grinding up the insides, because, well, teeth).

Blast Rifle: Versatile, reliable, and.. did I say it was reliable? This laser weapon has a rate of fire comparable to an assault rifle, and a high shot capacity. Shots could be concentrated for more penetration and damage, but it becomes a single shot rifle in this mode.

Powered Armor: The main benefit this has is making him taller than he actually is defence. It's a light variant of powered suits all things considered, with protection mainly derived from the shield generator built into it. It can shrug off quite a few rounds, but slower moving things, such as melee weapons, can simply bypass the shield.
Other: Kelmandrar is 5'4". Weight is around 58 kg.
My favored sci-fi works? Hmmm, The Expanse, Space Battleship Yamato, Warhammer 40k, and League of Legends Star Trek.

The Star-Breakers

Does the ship carry any starfighters?

The Wards: A Grimdark Teenage Superhero Story (Rebooted!)

Final version of my thing

Alman Kastrati, the Astromancer

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"Sometimes, the stars gaze back."

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Name: Alman Kastrati

Alias: Astromancer

Nicknames: Alms

Age: 17

Gender: A boi

Personality: Alman has a generally pleasant demeanor, and seems to be "chill" most of the time. He is noted to be highly enamored by ‘cute, fluffy animals’, and possesses a keen sense of intuition of trustworthiness. Alman is pretty protective of those folks he happens to like, though those that he had a bad experience of could expect to be suddenly abandoned in the middle of a fight.

Aside from that, Alman is incredibly petty. Ruin his day, or his property? He’ll do the same, but he’ll try to make it a bit worse for whoever pissed on his parade. He is pretty much the embodiment of karma in this regard; actions will come back around, so better be nice to the guy, or else you’ll find yourself randomly inconvenienced by small, but infuriating things. Rule of thumb with Alman, then, is that he always returns to sender.

Appearance:

My Hider

Alman is 5’3” in height, with markedly Caucasian features, though he gravitates to the somewhat tanner side. His pupils are amber in color, accompanied by black framed glasses. Those glasses are auto-darkening, and react accordingly whenever he summons stars. His clothing choices usually gravitate around cloaks and other comfortable, flowing garments. Apparently, he sees it as ‘liberating’.


As a Cape, he uses a suit that is shielded from the effects of his own stars, such as bright flashes and radiation. The cape on his back has a star pattern on it, which seamlessly blends into the starry sky at night. The vital areas are covered by protective kevlar, while a high grade helmet with a wide visor keeps his head safe. Overall, it is quite comfortable to be in, just as he prefers all clothes to be. It is not the most mobile of outfits, but it serves its purpose.

Biography: Alman wasn’t from Redline originally. Nor was he originally a citizen of the United States, either. His earliest memories, at least as far as he is willing to admit, traces back to their apartment in the city of Pristina, Kosovo, as the firstborn son of Selim and Jelena Kastrati.

Either way, Alman doesn’t remember all too much of his home country, as his family left it when he was five years old due to the highly volatile situation that it was in. They first arrived in New York City, and then moved up further north into Maine, where they finally settled down, somewhat. Now, they faced a whole new world.

As a child, he had the dream of becoming an astronaut, and reaching out towards the stars. Every night, he would look through the telescope, thinking of impossible dreams as typical for someone of such a young age. He knew every famous star and constellation, recognizing them as they shone in the night sky. Alman had quite a few difficulties with the English language, and was as such bullied for it in school, though that was simply the first reason. Other causes arose, namely because of his lack of aptitude for sports, and other generic reasons. He was passive though, and simply took it without telling anyone else, as he knew he couldn't fight back against the likes of them. Not like this. He would just get beaten even more. To make matters worse, his mother had been feeling unwell a lot of the time, but she always said that it was just her getting tired at work, which just made Alman worry to the point of being nearly physically sick. It seemed that the sorry state of everything was going to stay that way for a very long time.

One day, however, everything changed. Alman' mother had fallen ill. All those headaches weren’t just from the stress of work; it was a brain tumour. Alas, they didn't have the money to pay for the medication/medical bills to aid with her situation. She was, in all respects, dying.

In desperation, Alman’ father and uncle went to a dangerous, but deceptively friendly connection. They did not know what price they might pay in the process of getting the funds they required, but surely any sacrifice was worth it, if only her life was saved? By this point, Alman’ mother’s cancer was close to getting to a terminal stage, and there was little time left before it would begin to be difficult to dislodge.

That connection that they went to, it turned out, was a group for organized crime, who had them meet outside at night, where the Milky Way itself was visible in the sky. They were apparently willing to provide the money that the Kastratis needed, if only they would do something in return. That something, however, was heinous in its nature. Murderous, even. The boss wanted someone dead, and the assassination was their price. Alman father and uncle balked at this. They had expected something that would involve them and themselves alone, but it now seemed that this would be a life for a life. Now that they know who was the target, though, they cannot leave. Not until they say yes to the deal.

And so, the gangsters took hold of Alman’ father and uncle, and began to beat them to submission. The crime lord made him watch, forcibly keeping his eyes open even as he tried to look away. Here, he felt rage, and chaos. Rage at his father for believing that it was a good idea to plead the mafia for aid. Rage at the mafia for what they were now doing, and what they would make them do in exchange for a promise they may never carry out. He managed to close his eyes shut, if only for a moment, and heard only the chaos from his surroundings; the laughing of vicious thugs, the cries of pain, the sounds of blunt implements impacting against flesh. Rage. Disorder. They were all his to bear.

At that moment, an entity that skirted in the dimensions far above the ken of mortal perceptions found a suitable vessel. A shard unraveled, and in a split second, Alman was enlightened. He could now create the shiniest of lights, the fiercest of flames, the purest manifestation of starfire. And so, instead of his family being the victims that night, the gangsters were annihilated. Orbs of starlight burst into existence, setting clothing and flesh alight. The chaotic constellation that ensued wiped out the gangsters, purging them from the face of the earth. The gang were all dead, and the Kastrati clan still lived. The money, which had been in a suitcase as a fleeting proof of the deal they could have made, was now theirs for the taking. His mother will live, but at what cost?

Later in the morning, as the Kastratis recovered and spoke to one another about the events of last night, PRT investigations found traces of ionized gas within the area of concern, as well as charred bodies belonging to some of the most notorious gangsters in the state. Investigations pinpointed just who these gangsters were supposed to meet at the night, which led them to this moment. Self defense was cited as defensible cause for such wanton destruction, and the PRT didn't give chase.

That wasn't the end of it, however. Knowing that the expansive criminal network was never going to just let them go after this, Alman sought them out. One by one, the members of one of the great mafias in Maine were obliterated by undulating starfire. It took about a month of systematic annihilation, but in the end, they were wiped out. He would have thought that it was the end of the matter, with his mother cured and the gangsters purged from the face of the Earth, but he had to answer to someone else.

The PRT caught wind, and showed up in the Kastrati doorstep, having found that he had obliterated around a hundred or so 'people'. It was clear that Alman cannot remain in regular society like this. His parents were somewhat resistant to the idea that their only child is to go away from them, but they relented after about a week as the ultimatum became heavier. In exchange for around the clock protection for them, Alman was to enter the Wards Program.

Powers:
Classification: Blaster 6
Astromancy: Alman produces and channels plasma energy. He is as such able to create and maintain up to four miniature stars at a given time, with three distinct modes that operate in a sliding scale of heat and light. They can move at around 7 to 8 meters per second, with any turns requiring pauses in movement.

Mode 1 (Searing Star): Capable of melting through most metals, as well as turning sand into glass at physical contact. By far the dimmest, but the most potent in terms of destructive potential. These can immolate most materials that they may come across.

Mode 2 (Blinding Star): Little to no destructive capability, but the brightness emanating when it is created acts as a powerful flashbang, temporarily disorienting and blinding those who had not protected their eyes.

Mode 3 (Main Sequence): Seemingly unremarkable, these main sequence stars, as he calls them, are able to sear wood and stone, and can be difficult to look at for prolonged periods. This is the foundation from which the other two derive from in their creation.
Skills: When he was still unpowered, Alman was noted to be a great painter.
Other: No girlfriend since birth, sadly.

The Star-Breakers

Ah yes, the one place that hasn't been corrupted by capitalism: space!

The Wards: A Grimdark Teenage Superhero Story (Rebooted!)

You know the greatest power of all?

The power of GUN!

The Wards: A Grimdark Teenage Superhero Story (Rebooted!)

Alman Kastrati

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"Stars never align for anyone - except me, of course."

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Name: Alman Kastrati

Alias: Solar Lance

Nicknames: Alms, PRAISE THE SUN

Age: 17

Gender: A boi

Personality: Alman has a generally pleasant demeanor, and seems to be "chill" most of the time. He is noted to be highly enamored by ‘cute, fluffy animals’, and possesses a keen sense of intuition of trustworthiness. Alman is pretty protective of those folks he happens to like, though those that he had a bad experience of could expect to be suddenly abandoned in the middle of a fight.

Aside from that, Alman is incredibly petty. Ruin his day, or his property? He’ll do the same, but he’ll try to make it a bit worse for whoever pissed on his parade. He is pretty much the embodiment of karma in this regard; actions will come back around, so better be nice to the guy, or else you’ll find yourself randomly inconvenienced by small, but infuriating things. Rule of thumb with Alman, then, is that he always returns to sender.

Appearance:

My Hider

Alman is 5’3” in height, with markedly Caucasian features, though he gravitates to the somewhat tanner side. His pupils are amber in color, accompanied by black framed glasses. His clothing choices usually gravitate around cloaks and other comfortable, flowing garments. Apparently, he sees it as ‘liberating’. The flat cap seems to be a favorite of his whenever he doesn’t have to use the Cape costume.


As a Cape, he uses a suit that is shielded from the effects of his own stars, such as bright flashes and radiation. The cape on his back has a star pattern on it, which seamlessly blends into the starry sky at night. The vital areas are covered by protective kevlar, while a high grade helmet with a wide visor keeps his head safe. Overall, it is quite comfortable to be in, just as he prefers all clothes to be. It is not the most mobile of outfits, but it serves its purpose.

Biography: Alman wasn’t from Redline originally. Nor was he originally a citizen of the United States, either. His earliest memories, at least as far as he is willing to admit, traces back to their apartment in the city of Pristina, Kosovo, as the firstborn son of Selim and Jelena Kastrati.

Either way, Alman doesn’t remember all too much of his home country, as his family left it when he was five years old due to the highly volatile situation that it was in. They first arrived in New York City, and then moved up further north into Maine, where they finally settled down, somewhat. Now, they faced a whole new world.

As a child, he had the dream of becoming an astronaut, and reaching out towards the stars. Every night, he would look through the telescope, thinking of impossible dreams as typical for someone of such a young age. He knew every famous star and constellation, recognizing them as they shone in the night sky. Alman had quite a few difficulties with the English language, and was as such bullied for it in school, though that was simply the first reason. Other causes arose, namely because of his lack of aptitude for sports, and other generic reasons. He was passive though, and simply took it without telling anyone else, as he knew he couldn't fight back against the likes of them. Not like this. He would just get beaten even more. To make matters worse, his mother had been feeling unwell a lot of the time, but she always said that it was just her getting tired at work, which just made Alman worry to the point of being nearly physically sick. It seemed that the sorry state of everything was going to stay that way for a very long time.

One day, however, everything changed. Alman' mother had fallen ill. All those headaches weren’t just from the stress of work; it was a brain tumour. Alas, they didn't have the money to pay for the medication/medical bills to aid with her situation. She was, in all respects, dying.

In desperation, Alman’ father and uncle went to a dangerous, but deceptively friendly connection. They did not know what price they might pay in the process of getting the funds they required, but surely any sacrifice was worth it, if only her life was saved? By this point, Alman’ mother’s cancer was close to getting to a terminal stage, and there was little time left before it would begin to be difficult to dislodge.

That connection that they went to, it turned out, was a group for organized crime, who had them meet outside at night, where the Milky Way itself was visible in the sky. They were apparently willing to provide the money that the Kastratis needed, if only they would do something in return. That something, however, was heinous in its nature. Murderous, even. The boss wanted someone dead, and the assassination was their price. Alman father and uncle balked at this. They had expected something that would involve them and themselves alone, but it now seemed that this would be a life for a life. Now that they know who was the target, though, they cannot leave. Not until they say yes to the deal.

And so, the gangsters took hold of Alman’ father and uncle, and began to beat them to submission. The crime lord made him watch, forcibly keeping his eyes open even as he tried to look away. Here, he felt rage, and chaos. Rage at his father for believing that it was a good idea to plead the mafia for aid. Rage at the mafia for what they were now doing, and what they would make them do in exchange for a promise they may never carry out. He managed to close his eyes shut, if only for a moment, and heard only the chaos from his surroundings; the laughing of vicious thugs, the cries of pain, the sounds of blunt implements impacting against flesh. Rage. Disorder. They were all his to bear.

At that moment, an entity that skirted in the dimensions far above the ken of mortal perceptions found a suitable vessel. A shard unraveled, and in a split second, Alman was enlightened. He could now create the shiniest of lights, the fiercest of flames, the purest manifestation of starfire. And so, instead of his family being the victims that night, the gangsters were annihilated. Orbs of starlight burst into existence, before searing hot beams of annihilation set clothing and flesh alight. The chaotic constellation that ensued wiped out the gangsters, purging them from the face of the earth. The gang were all dead, and the Kastrati clan still lived. The money, which had been in a suitcase as a fleeting proof of the deal they could have made, was now theirs for the taking. His mother will live, but at what cost?

Later in the morning, as the Kastratis recovered and spoke to one another about the events of last night, the PRT showed up at their door. PRT investigations found traces of ionized gas within the area of concern, as well as charred bodies belonging to some of the most notorious gangsters in the state. Investigations pinpointed just who these gangsters were supposed to meet at the night, which led them to this moment. It was clear, however, that Alman cannot remain in regular society like this. His parents were somewhat resistant to the idea that their only child is to go away from them, but they relented after about a week as the ultimatum became heavier. In exchange for around the clock protection for them, Alman was to enter the Wards Program.

Powers:

Cosmogenesis (Blaster 6): Alman produces and channels plasma energy. He is as such able to create and maintain up to four miniature stars at a given time, which can then either operate as a source of light… Or a beam tower.

Solar Lance: Each star that Alman creates can fire one beam of light energy at a time, which is capable of melting metal upon contact. It has a range of around 100 meters before it dissipates.

The stars can combine their beams into one, extending the range to 400 meters in exchange for consuming a high amount of energy.

Skills: When he was still unpowered, Alman was noted to be a great painter.
Other: No girlfriend since birth, sadly.

Warhammer 50k: The Second Age of Strife

Silas Celeton
The Rogue Trader

Brandishing lasguns, stubbers, and assorted blades of all kinds, the mad followers of Chaos thundered against the Voidsmen. They held back the Cultists, but the attackers were tenacious and disciplined if anything. Still, many cultists died as they charged, dying before they could even approach the line.

Some of the Cultists didn't join the charge, though, instead remaining at range to fire their stubbers and lasguns at the Voidsmen. They were rebuffed by returning volleys of lasfire from the naval infantry, whose cohesion increased as Stukov began issuing his orders. These cultists didn't try to charge the Voidsmen, though, instead firing their weapons whenever the opportunity presented itself.

This was to be expected. After all, out of all the followers of the Chaos Gods, those who serve Tzeentch were the most orderly as Chaos could ever be. It wouldn't be too apparent at first, but some of the cultists would appear to be, in fact, Prosperine Spireguard. They were those mortal soldiers that hail from the Planet of Sorcerers, well trained and disciplined troops that serve directly under the Thousand Sons Traitor Legion. It's a relief that none of their Astartes masters were present, or else this situation might have been a desperate one.

Silas soon arrived in the battle, wielding the Eldar powerblade on one hand and an Ion pistol on another, dispatching one heretic at a time with the pistol. While the naval infantry managed to keep most of the Cultists pinned down, the beastmen, the Tzaangor, were not easily cowed. They emerged from the rear of the cultist's ranks, either pushing aside or simply trampling on the human Chaos worshippers when they were too slow to get out of the way.

The blasphemous chanting of massed Tzaangors rose to a crescendo as they charged forward, wielding jagged blades hued from metal and bone. Iridescent eyes glow with inhuman savagery, and the cruelly twisted horns that sprout from each Tzaangor's skull clattered together as they vie to be first into the fray.

Though some Tzaangors were cut down by lasfire, they were powerful and durable creatures. No less than twelve of them had broken into the first line of defending infantry, and promptly engaged them in close quarters. Behind them, a Chaos Sorcerer, a human acolyte, began chanting vile spells to throw at the Imperial remnants. It seemed only a fellow psyker could take him down in the middle of the battle…

A screeching Tzaangor brought its hateful blade down upon Silas, only to find a shimmering forcefield blocking the blow. Seeing its confusion, if only for a moment, the Rogue Trader cut off its blade arm with his own power blade, before shooting its brains out with the Ion Pistol.

"Foul creature, spawn of Chaos," the man hissed as he flicked the blood off from the sword. The forcefield was still working optimally, thank the Emperor-

Another Tzaangor slammed Silas, this time knocking him back. He landed just a few feet away from Grummore, dizzied. There, right before them, the Tzaangor began striding forward in a slow, deliberate manner as it ignored the wound on its side. It wielded a blade, like its compatriots, its bolt pistol apparently lost when the Harlequins attacked their fleet.

Outside, the Chaos vessels, damaged as they were, were still somehow functioning. The Eldar escort ship evaded the first chaos frigate as it slammed against the wall of the Webway tunnel after getting its engines completely destroyed by a volley of laser fire, exploding in a corona of purple flame. The other chaos vessel lumbered closer and closer, aiming to ram the Gladius frigate that belonged to one of the other Rogue Traders.

Noble Arms - The ASEAN War [Moved to New Thread]

Carroman Montenegro

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Carroman looked over the fallen soldier and whispered a prayer for the dead as medics carted away the body. He didn't know his name, but it made him sorrowful nonetheless that he had passed despite the efforts Carroman had expended. The light from his Noble Arm, the Dragon Staff, faded away as he found that the healing was insufficient. He had arrived too late to save him, as the man had already completely bled out. There was nothing he could do, not when an A rank was causing chaos on the beach and others were doing the same elsewhere.

It was the same story, over and over again. He had lost count of how many final rites he had to perform, how many men had their minds simply shattered by the horrific realities that these supernatural weapons, the Noble Arms, had brought into the theatre of war. Some whispered to themselves manically, reacting to every little movement from others as if they were an enemy seeking to slay them. Some had to be consoled as they found out that their comrades had been torn to shreds, or buried under debris.

Carroman banished the heavy thoughts for now, as he strode up the stairs of the auditorium overlooking the battle. He had switched over with another chaplain for the moment, as the burden of the things he had been seeing was beginning to weigh down on him. Maybe he was just tired, perhaps his ears will never get used to those sounds. But for now, he needed a moment of composure.

It didn't take him long before had noticed that one of the members of the Arms Masters present had taken residence in one of the vantage points. As he approached, it became clear that it was Hannie, the Australian girl who had that frosty knife as a Noble Arm.

"Ay, Hannie? Sleeping off, are we?"

As expected, she was indeed fast asleep. Carroman began to shake her gently, wondering for a moment if she was still in this world.

"Hannie? Hannie? Haaaaaaaaaaaaannie! You can't be dozing off in the middle of the apocalyse!"

Warhammer 50k: The Second Age of Strife

Silas Celeton
The Rogue Trader

"Sir, Gerard Stukov reporting. Seems like I've made it early as usual." Gerard would give a crisp, brief salute to the Rogue Trader before taking a seat, patiently waiting for the others who would be attending to arrive.

Silas nodded to the veteran Guardsman, a small smile finding its way onto his face. "That's good, Stukov, very good," the Rogue Trader answered, stabbing a piece of well grilled meat with his fork before eating it. "I’ve had the best meal prepared for us, to prepare us for the hard journey ahead."

Surely enough, the rest of his inner circle of advisors and important officers entered. The Chief Navigator came in with a covered third eye, as to gaze upon it is to invite absolute insanity. The Mechanicus Magos in charge of the engines appeared only as a hologram, as he would not care to go up to the bridge to partake in the act of consumption. Others of particular note were the primaris Psyker, Paolo, and the Hernkyn Pioneer, Grummore.

Silas eyed the psyker as he entered, remembering having hired him for his prodigious talents, as well as those Harakoni Warhawks that came along with him. Paolo having a personal guard all the time took some time for Silas to get used to, too. When he was informed that those guards were a failsafe in case demons overwhelm the psyker, it was... quite depressing to think about.

As for the Hernkyn Pioneer, Silas thought of him well, at least. The Kyn were a secretive bunch, but that was offset by their general industriousness. He used to have a Kyn brokhyr for the engines too, but he and the Magos argued far too often and he left on his own accord some time ago.

Anyway...

"Let us have a great banquet, shall we?" Silas raised a toast, bearing the wine upon a sculpted, golden chalice taken from an Ecclesiarchy office in a Shrine World that had been scoured by the New Devourer. It bore images of old Imperial saints, their visages glorious and beautiful. "Our journey ahead will be difficult. We may face foes beyond the deepest nightmares, but we have done so before upon many worlds that were. And so, may we find great treasure and glory in our path! We shall return to Macragge, bearing the artifact, and be exalted by the Lord Primarchs."

Eldar escort ship, the Seventh Sun
Sometime later

The Eldar escort ship and the human ships it led turned around a corner of the Webway, evading a branch that would have led straight into a dead end. However, their scanners came to life, and this time with definite results.

One of the Eldar bridge crew, adherents of the Path of the Mariner, had found an anomaly in the Webway tunnel. “Captain! We are detecting wreckage. Mon’keigh vessels, bearing symbols of the Changer of Ways.”

“Human,” the captain, a former corsair from Craftworld Iyanden, corrected, “Do not allow them to hear you call them that. As for these wrecks… they must have been destroyed by the Harlequins. That fool Ahzek Ahriman is still looking for the Black Library.”

“Energy spike detected from the wreckage! They’re powering up!

Too late did the warning come as a pair of Chaos warships emerged from the shattered wreckage. They were badly damaged, but they still had great compliments of Chaos cultists and Tzaangor beastmen that were sent forth in a great swarm of assault boats. To make matters worse, they still had some weapons online, and punctured the void shields of the Iaculum Tyrannis in some places, though these were quickly regenerated.

Of course, this had rudely interrupted the banquet of Silas Celeton and his inner circle, who were just about to finish their third course when the auspex scanners detected the incoming assault boats. Some of them, despite the Seventh Sun and Iaculum Tyrannis’s efforts, had successfully landed on the latter thanks to the attacks of the Chaos vessels.

Conveniently, or inconveniently, depending on one’s perspective, two of the assault boats had latched themselves just outside the Observation Gallery. That happened to just be a hundred or so meters from where the Rogue Trader’s inner circle had been dining, and so were the closest to stop the crazed Cultists and beastmen. Some of the Voidsmen had already gone there to defend it, but they were outnumbered...