Scene Listing

||

Scene Schedule

||

Scene Schedule RSS

Owner	Pose
Gilgamesh	NARSINE TOPSIDE, SIX HOURS AGO      It is a planet in chrysalis. The skyline remains choked by skyscrapers that do not glint or glimmer, cold iron constructions meant for functionality and grotesquerie over form and grandiosity, but there is a palpable sense of change in the air, a sense of a sudden infusion of some energy or life that has long been lacking. People are moving, rapidly and with purpose. There's construction work everywhere, with buildings being disassembled carefully, high-tech equipment that looks like it hasn't been touched in ages being roused from its slumber to perform staggering tasks of de-engineering.      The human tide ebbs and flows around the former governor's palace like blood through a pumping heart. It stands apart and above the skyline, though what was once a more squat Imperial manor has already been converted into a vast ziggurat, a temple of staggering size that towers over even the highest of buildings. It's vast enough to be seen from orbit, though only barely, and only because it is a gleaming golden structure amidst the endless ugly grey. The vast structure is surrounded by a small forest of exotic plants and trees, throughout which alien beasts sleep in pens - samples of the life that once was here before it was paved and bulldozed for the sake of humankind. Pathways full of people carrying heavy stone tablets and dataslates are threaded elegantly through the false-forest, but they all lead to the same place: the ziggurat's steps.      The climb is unbelievably long. It is impossible to make in one go without genuinely amazing superhuman powers. There are in fact checkpoints, rest-stops, and food stands along the way, set into sides to make the climb easier, and every one of them is packed full of aides and messengers with those heavy stone tablets. On more than one level there's almost fully-formed towns of people tapping water supplies from the palace pipes, harvesting food grown vertically on the walls, and set up exclusively around the industry of selling comforts to weary workers. At the top of the climb is a single room.      In that room is the King of Heroes.      He's dressed regally. He always is, no matter what he wears, but in this case he is wearing clothes befitting his imperiousness, a fine golden affair that leaves his flawless chest and abs exposed draped with the Imperial governor's robes of state. He stands at the center of the room, writing on stone tablets and passing them off to people as they come forward. Orders and mathematics fly past the party as they are forced to wait their turn. Several large black skeleton robots with gold trappings keep the line orderly, holding ceremonial weapons for the show more than the defense of a man who can kill an army by himself. Finally, they are brought before the King of Heroes, and he says simply, "Go down to the undercity and deal with it, fools! I don't have time to entertain you! Find out what impedes law and order in my slum and clean it up however you see fit! All that matters is that they don't get in the way of reconstruction!"
Gilgamesh	NARSINE UNDERCITY, RIGHT NOW      It's taken six hours to get to the undercity. The sheer density of the buildings that choke the life from the sky is inconceivable, and navigating them is doubly so. Elevators chain into elevators chain into elevators like a vertical metro, exactly as confounding, packed, and inefficient, as well as three times as unnerving when it bumps or jostles. The whole place stinks of human sweat, and every elevator is permeated by not only that stench but by sheer number of human bodies. The further down the party gets the more of them there are, and the more intense they become. Some of them have warpaint on. Some of them have set up tents inside the elevators. Every inch of space must be used, and those unlucky enough to be homeless have found a new calling.      Finally, after hours of riding the lifts, the party arrives in what can definitively be called *the undercity*.      It is *noxious*.      Fumes of sewage throttle the air. The stink of humanity is not only sweat, here, but urine and feces and all the discarded trash imaginable. It is fair to call this place a cancer that rests underneath a cyst; topside is bad beyond the Palace, a cramped container stuffed with humanity, but this is a horror show. This is a garbage dump where the unwanted dwell.      Still, even in the filth, there's life.      It's like walking into an old western town, but one buried deep beneath a sky of steel, a vaulting pipe-ceiling a mile high that stretches on as far as the eye can see. Buildings, made of refuse, abandoned rusted metal, and whatever can be scrounged up - in more than one case including /actual bone/ - stand inside walls made of scrap, squat and squallid. A sign in Low Gothic hangs over gates, reading WELCOME TO IMO DOLLI. A huge hulk of a man with a hood pulled over his face and a gun at his side stands outside. Beyond him, clustered around the walls, are makeshift tents of hide, bone, and paper, in which refugees sit unhappily. A man in a red robe is walking about tending to them.      In the distance, past the town, is what looks like an old factory. It pumps black smoke into the air, a cloud of smog mingled with the stench of the sewage. It probably hasn't been active for long, but it's certainly active *now*. More tents are arrayed around it. It's probably several miles away than the town, which is itself several miles away from the elevator, only visible because of the sheer stupid scale of the whole place.      Much closer to the elevator itself is a squat, grey building composed entirely of some form of concrete. It has no windows, only a heavy metal door, and it is manned with turrets that are certainly higher-quality than any of the makeshift trash in the area. Two men with sashes stand out front of it, arms at attention, obviously military-esque guards.      The Planetary Defense Force unit alongside the party - largely comprised of men in former Imperium uniforms, which have been hastily converted with Babylonian sigils and emblems and a golden trapping to show their allegiance - sets up a defense point near the elevator. They deploy turrets and makeshift walls somewhat inefficiently; there is the sense that this is the first real action they've seen in a very long time. The commander, Provost Gerard Marchand, informs the party politely that he will be setting up a more permanent base for further excursions, and that if they have any trouble, feel free to report to him.
Phobos	It's unusual for a Tech-Priest to wander the underbelly of a city without a crew or superiors, but not unheard of. The countless members of the Mechanicus can slave away on Imperium vessels, and the countless others who have gone rogue, heretical, or both, must often scrounge the bottom of the barrel for the right parts. Occasionally, for people who won't be missed, to become Servitors. And rarely, for the illicit goods ones can find on the black market.     Still, people never tend to question the passage of a red-robed Priest of Mars, at least, and if the robes weren't enough to give Phobos away, it'd be the many mechanical tendrils and arms sticking out of her back. Not that the robes leave enough to say "her" until she talks.     Disconnected from the King's efforts, she'd come here on her own - the movements of the Necrons had not gone unnoticed, and she believed she could retrieve one or two of them with care. If not them, she'd not checked the black markets of this planet in recent memory. And the services of a Tech-Priest are a currency of their own in such awful parts. The desperate would pay anything to have their precious technology examined and fixed.     Without hesitation, the heavy mechanical thumps of Phobos' obviously heavy boots take her towards the factory for a first stop, having been wandering the dark streets for hours already. Neither lack of light nor toxic smoke slows her pace, the glowing green optics under her hood the only feature that can be seen. What do they make, down here? Weapons? She could use a resupply.
Solomon Lau	Solomon Lau is present. He's quiet as various adventurers approach Gilgamesh in his palace (he's exhausted from the constant climb, actually), and doesn't really get a chance to say much before they're headed back down and on their way. The gunman is dressed in a suit with no tie, the type a Hong Kong gangster might wear, because old comforts die hard. He's armed, though his guns are hidden, and he's carrying a briefcase. The elevator ride is taxing on his mind. Six hours of elevators is new to him, and with how crowded it is, it's a nightmare. He's used to being in crowded spaces - he's from Hong Kong - but not like this. As they descended, Solomon mutters to whoever is on his side. "Hell of a ride, huh?" And then, he turns on his fancy MP3 player, puts it in his pocket, puts the earbuds in, and drowns out the world. Well, not quite. Even with the music, Solomon's senses are still sharp. Music doesn't dull them. He's listened to music in a fight long enough to be used to it. When they finally arrive, Solomon turns off his music, steps out, carefully clutching his briefcase, and pauses outside the gate. Imo Dolli... He has no clue what it means. Solomon continues into the 'city'. He's not going to bother with the military building. He's not a military man and wouldn't know how to interact with those that consider themselves military men. The hulk of a man is regarded with a polite nod, respecting that he's the enforcer. It's the man in the red robe tending to them that gets Solomon's attention. A priest or a monk? Solomon waits until the man isn't directly busy tending to someone, and approaches him. "Excuse me, sir. Solomon Lau. I'm new around here, and was wondering where I could find some information about this place. Who's in charge, who to avoid...if you can't help me, at least point me to someone who could?" His tone is tough, but it's more out of a lack of knowing exactly how to do this than actual rudeness. But it might make him sound like someone who fits around here, at least.
Mortimer Balman	It is not easy for Mortimer to move around without too much detection. Too much magic comes off of him, too much history. But he can fake it at least, eschewing his usual attire for a very long cloak and hood that obscures his face and features reasonably well. A few shadows can be altered to be cast longer than they ought to be. A few simple tricks and illusory spells and standing near the back and he's just a strange old man carrying a very sharp looking Astartes-style combat knife that looks to be of Necromundan design- the Imperials would see that as the sign of an aged mercenary, the way he hunches and stoops and smokes. Someone to be avoided. Old men in a profession not known for old men and all that. The rest.. Well, some of them can no doubt see past old Morty's tricks, some perhaps can't. Hopefully the ones that can know to keep it quiet.      After all, there is surely a very good reason the old badger is here, watching the Golden King's new world. And it most certainly would not be out of any sort of fondness or generosity on his part, would it? But that remains to be seen. Much like everything else.      The crooked figure descends into the crooked, twisting halls..
Sanary Rondel	Today has been awful for Sanary. Between climbing the ziggurat for way too long and the even longer elevator rides down to the Undercity, it's a wonder that the axe-wielder hasn't already gone mad and tried to cut someone in half yet. She may have punched a person or two, but that's par for the course for her. At least she's already used to the smell from her day job as a pig farmer and her past life as also a pig farmer. Still, the stench can be ignored for only so long, and being surrounded by it is already putting her into a sour mood by the time the crew can finally start moving about on their own again. "Damn... This place is really screwed up, ain't it? Gonna have our work cut out for us." Sanary comments blearily, one hand stuffed into her pocket while the other reaches around to scratch her neck. The one thing keeping her from just bailing on all this awful bullshit? The pay's great. She could afford to hire helpers or get the farm renovated with the proceeds from this job and then some. Sure, there's also the Watch's objectives of protecting the people, but who said protecting the people couldn't be done indirectly through getting herself some better gear or comforts first? Time is still something to consider, though, and that's why the axe-wielder heads for the closest point of interest: The gray building! Strolling right on up to the guards posted outside of it, Sanary lets out a half-blowing half-whistling noise as she looks up at the turrets. "Huh. What's all this up here? You got permits from the King for that?" She speaks with a questioning, yet tired drawl as her eye drifts from the turrets to the guards themselves. Inwardly, she still feels a little gross. This must be what those royal knights feel like.
Kotone Yamakawa	To say Kotone was concerned about this was an understatement. She had also done a lot of thinking about the King of Heroes? She had to put her money where her mouth was. Talk was cheap in the end. She had already grasped people were going to die, maybe just maybe? She could save a few from that number. She knew long ago she can't save everything but if she even saves a few people, right? It would be worth it to her. The state of the world is telling to her. It is already clear on this world to Kotone. There is life again, the people are moving with purpose and the baste bit of hope thought to have long died has reared its head. Getting up to the King of Heroes was quite the treck even with her abilities. She waw food actual honest to god food being grown locally much in the way some new or rebuilt cities on her world were doing urban farming. She's glad she knew about the Necrons Gil had under his control, or she'd have blue screened at seeing mechanical alien horrors. The orders were simple, direct and allowed for a lot of leeway in how to deal with it. She intended to try and talk or find what the people in that Emperor forsaken place might want. "Understood." She'll not delay long, she's kitted out for trouble sure but she's keeping almost all her combat hardware save a personal defence pistol stored in a matter manipulator which she hopes she'll not have to use. The scale of this city is not lost on Kotone, it's a city world plain and simple and she takes it all in s she travels the elevator chains down. "Good in heaven the scale of the engineering to make this place..." She felt small but motivated and she is rapidly aware of why the rebuilding is so badly needed the cities as they were? Machines of misery and death that will just eat up the people here generation after generation. Maybe there is hope for the future now and given Gil has not given kill orders, simply solve it orders? She's going to make use of that. She has enough experience with a moments' thought to translate the low gothic sign, bottom of the barrel. Very fitting when she thought about it With Gerard Marchand and his men holding the lift down here? They should have a way out and aid if they need it. She heeds his warning there might not be much to save here, yet? Humanity could have light in the damnest of places she'd seen it before and would dare to hold out hope here. Kotone would be heading for the factory as well and running here thermal imaging systems to keep an eye out for signs of life down here, after all, she's looking for people to talk it. Though Kotone and the stealth gear she's wearing? She looks like she could be some sort of Rogue Trader or at least an aid to one. She's intending to head to the tent city to check up on its state and search for someone of some power or at least who has an idea of what's up. Before she can do anything Kotone needs information!
Kirito	In Kirito's case, ascending the ziggurat wasn't any serious affair. With infinite flight time, it was just a matter of zooooooooooming all the way to the very top from the nearest warp gate. Of course, he did stop at one of the rest points and grab a snack to try on the way- justg to lighten the burden on his mind that he's trying to avoid thinking too much about just yet.     The boy is no fool. Despite his youth in the grand scheme of things, gazing upon the state of this planet and the changes being wrought fills him with a sense of dread and unease. Turmoil is coming. Lots and lots of turmoil. And there's not a damned thing he can do about... probably most of it.     It's the 'some of it' that remains which has him landing at the line and waiting with the others....     ... Only to hear a directive that he COULD'VE just received as an email. So as soon as he's out of the King of Heroes's sight, the Black Swordsman stretches his arms and makes a vaguely grumbly noise to himself.     He doesn't really have anything to grumble about though, it turns out. Not until the group reaches the Undercity. This feat is so laboriously lengthy that he's downright disgusted at the sheer scale of this supposed 'Hive World' and wondering how people CAN even live like this... or WHY they're living like this....     Not half as much as that stench, though. Kirito's so put off by it that he futzes with his Augmentged Reality Menu, pushing invisible buttons in the air... until a common air filter mask materializes from blue light and he fixes it over his mouth and nose. That probably looks a bit dumb, but he isn't likely to care.     Kirito is, if nothing else, highly pragmatic in a situation like this. It being as grim as it is, he assesses the points of investigation... and picks the closest one. The 'bunker' with the guards.     At the moment, the young man is not displaying his wings. Only his pointed ears are evidence of him being anything unusual... but then again, he's brash enough to carry a sword sheathed on his back. That may stand out down here...     And so he walks with purpose up towards the guarded entrance, halting either about fifteen feet away or if told to. "Yo. I know this is coming out of nowhere, but everyone living down here is in trouble and we're here to address that. Do you guys know who's in charge of the most people down here? Officially or unofficially."
Raziel	Priscilla was very clear in her orders, aid the King.  While his opinion on the King isn't low, he isn't a member of the Concord, nor one of his allies.  However, Raziel DOES remember the Christmas gift, and that is one reason why he has decided to put his strength into the King's hand.  When ordered, the man dressed in what might be described as an obscuring, but neo-medieval clothing. His hands and feet clawed, and his eyes points of light.  A swirl of something swirling down his arm, clinging to him like a parasite.  The man, while most of his worst features are hidden away, does not hold up to scrutiny if someone looks at him long enough.  He's too thin, his movements are hardly the ones that a human could make.  Nor does he seem to need rest, or get tired. Others seemed focused at wanting to go at this calmly.  Raziel could respect this, however, to him criminals are criminals.  Then again, he was not unkind.  Especially with the sights, he has seen moving into the underhive. 'Retched was the only words that came to mind.  Never in all of the Wasteland of Nosgoth had I seen such sights.  My brothers and their kin were grotesque, but this went beyond all of this. I was glad that I did not have to breathe, suddenly.  The smell was enough to even make my throat gasp.  It goes to show how tenacious humanity can be, to live even in the worst of places.  Those who survived here were cut of a different cloth of the ones above.  I wondered if that would make them deaf to reason, desperate to escape, or some measure of the two?' Raziel had decided to not manifest yet, instead he decided to look for the causes of the obstruction to the King's construction.  There was intelligence, but right now was a matter of confirming, and also keeping an eye on those who had come to aid, and those who had come to 'aid'.
Bedivere	Bedivere, much like the planet, was on loan to Gilgamesh from one his potential suitors. Upon hearing Gilgamesh's reconstruction plans on the journey up, he opted for one thing, collected from the guards: a gilded sash emblazoned with the King's sigil. It looks slightly off-kilter with his image as the White Knight In Shining Armor, his helmet and teal-feathered trimmings much more subdued than the golden sash, if anything it makes clear that he isn't some vagabond rogue, but an agent of the king. The King has sent a real White Knight down to the most wretched hive of scum and villainy, and Bedivere will play the part.     Once the elevators have reached the very bottom and he's had his short and curt conversation with Gerard, he summons his steed - a nameless white horse in armor - from golden motes. Rising into the saddle as easily as breathing, he offers those he sees around him are also the King's agents: "I, Sir Bedivere of Camelot, ride to Imo Dolli in order to see and be seen. If you desire, I may take one of you with me." And, once any negotiations are settled, he sets off at a punishing pace for the bottom of the barrel. Like any true Knight, he figures the quest will come to him.
Staren	Staren doesn't need to see The King just to confirm that he's taking a mission. It's a /posted bounty/, it doesn't say to come meet him for details! Staren has his own planet to oversee and has to manage the resurrection of dozens of people killed over the past few days; who gets new bodies, who waits for healing, who gets cybernetic replacements... He still asks each one personally what they'd prefer. If this keeps happening he may need to delegate that too, though...     Staren rendezvouses with the team as they descend towards the undercity, and is... kind of amazed at how long it takes. He hasn't seen anything of this scale since Njorun, but it's more cramped and troublesome to navigate. If Njorun had been built bit-by-bit over time, expansions added on with no forethought and with people using every square inch for housing, it might have become something like this...     At least he has plenty of videogames to play on his headcomputer on breaks in between double-checking his plans for various projects. When he arrives at the undercity, he finally has to turn on his air supply, because *pee-yew*. There's a hint of pity in his eyes as he looks over the PDF -- While the Imperial Lasgun is a fine piece of work, Staren finds their armor and (lack of) computer gear apalling for military forces. He makes a note to send this squad spares of the stuff he's designed for Amestris Majoris's Guard in return for their help if they survive this.     Well. The problem is in the factory, so in the factory is where to go, right? Staren heads onward with the others, although he sends a small quadrotor ahead to scout.
Sarracenia	After a long wait, Sarracenia stands before Gilgamesh. Even after all this time, she can't help staring at the King for a few moments. She may not be as magically regal as he is, but she thinks she is. And she is just about to open her mouth in greeting when he snaps at them and calls them fools! The princess's gloves creak as she clenches her fists, then she huffs loudly and stomps off. She has half a mind not to even go down into those slums now! But, she did say she would, and she is -trying- to be better than she has been in the past.      She starts to regret it as they take the long trip just to reach the undercity after such a long wait just to be yelled at. She regrets it even more as the stench of human effort in a cramped area gets stronger and stronger.      And she regrets it most of all when they reach the level in question. "Oh my god!" she exclaims, trying to cover her mouth and nose with a gloved hand. Of course, that does little to help. She quickly starts to look pale as she falls to her knees and just as quickly digs into her purse. She rummages around desperately before finally pulling out a full rebreather mask and slips it on quickly. She takes some deep breaths, then gags again. It isn't as bad as before, but she is still clearly digusted. "H-how can anyone live in such a place?! Much less build a town?!" she exclaims as she slowly gets back to her feet, then blinks as she looks down at the dirt and grime that is on her dress now thanks to her own dramatics.      "AAAAAAAAHH!"      "I-it is on my dress!" she whines in a rather piercing voice. She at least displays -some- common sense in that she is wearing her battle dress, which is designed to get dirty and be okay. But she certainly isn't happy about it. And her voice just might have echoed all through the cavern. All she does for now is follow the others, whining under her breath.      She spots Kirito and rushes to take his arm, perhaps thinking that the hero might somehow protect her from the horror of dirt and grime and filth.
S6	"Entering dangerous territory is what I am for," states a white-haired woman, directed to Provost Marchand. As she steps past him and beyond the makeshift defenses, she reaches up to her own face as if adjusting a pair of glasses. An opaque black visor appears, obscuring her eyes. The device floating beside her ascends to shoulder-level, emitting a pinging.     -INITIATING LOCAL SCAN.-     -THIS AREA IS OCCUPIED BY A LARGE NUMBER OF HUMANOIDS.-     -POINTS OF INTEREST MARKED ON HUD.-     -CAUTION: HUMANOIDS DO NOT POSSESS IFF TRANCIEVERS.-     S6 pauses, shifting her gaze upward slightly with a thoughtful noise. Yamakawa is headed there... The axe-carrying woman is going there... Magic readings suggest someone there... She resumes walking at a swift pace, approaching the village. It isn't long before she catches up to Kotone, and there she slows to match the woman's pace.     She feels out of place, here. Not just an android surrounded by countless humans, though. Taking in the surroundings she travels through, S6 can't help but feel like she's too clean to be here. And yet she is, at the behest of the King of Heroes and the recommendation of FANTOM.
Staren	Staren just sprays Sarracenia's dress with cleaning nanites. It takes much less time than listening to her whine.
Gilgamesh	THE FACTORY      Indeed, no one questions the tech-priest's presence. Actually in a very strange way - while normally the people of an undercity are completely disinterested in anything beyond their own squallid misery, here they give Phobos a remarkable amount of attention. More than one of them calls her "chaplain," which certainly isn't a title that belongs to her.      When she stops in the black market, however, the attention is *almost the direct opposite*. The market is heavily-guarded almost entirely by abhumans. Some of them hulk with tusks. Some of them are coated in scales with sharp teeth. And they give her no end of hostility. They bump her. They jostle her. One of them spits at her feet, accompanied by a warning of "Chaplain's lot aren't welcome here. Buy and get out. This is Skum territory."      But at the factory, Phobos receives an entirely different welcome. People in red robes sit around, ministering to a group of wounded and sick. They look up as she arrives and wave at her. None of them are cyborgs. None of them are converted. The welcome is, in fact, strangely...welcoming. "Ho there, Sister!" One of them calls, "Are you here to speak to the Chaplain?"      Phobos is already inside by the time Kotone arrives, but one of the red-robed people smiles at her. "Hello there! Have you come to hear the Chaplain's sermon? It won't start for an hour or so, but if you'd like to wait, you're welcome to. There's some filtered water nearby, and some processed food. It's as good as anything else down here. Or if you need some medicine, well, there's not much, but what we've got, we share."      Staren's drone gets an excited look from several of the red-robed men. One of them tries to tackle it. The other greets Staren eagerly as he arrives, giving him a similar speech to Kotone, with an addition of "that's mighty fine, though, sir. Who did you kill for it?" The same question is offered to Mortimer at the knife, which these people are far too uneducated to recognize.
Gilgamesh	IMO DOLLI      Solomon nods to the guard. The guard looks at him as he rolls up a cig. It's probably not real tobacco but it's certainly some kind of drug. He lights it, exposing canine teeth as sharp as a shark's. Abhuman. "You don't wanna deal with him," the guard says as Solomon goes to approach the red-robed man, "Chaplain boys. Weird bastards. Only allowed out there because it's too much work to fight 'em in all them tents. In here, though, this is Skum territory."      The red-robed man shakes his head and smiles at Solomon. His face is a mess - scratched and scarred from some horrible accident. "Pay the mutant no mind, child. The Chaplain has room for everyone. If you've any needs, go there to the cathedral, and he'll sort you out." He swings his finger towards the factory in the distance.      The mutant scoffs. "If you join his fucking cult."      "The faith of the Omnissiah-"      "It's a fucking cult. You're not Tech-Priests and it's a fucking cult. Get out of here before I blast you."      The priest scurries off amongst the tents. The abhuman holds out a hand to Solomon. "If you're new down here, mate, you want to talk to the Underlord."      Bedivere rides up just in time to hear as much, after tons of people stare at his horse like they want to eat it, and tons more stare at it like they've never seen such a beast. The mutant looks at him, laughs a big shark-toothed laugh, and waves them inside. "Lot of folk looking to meet Mr. Julius today." He doesn't even question the horse. It's a mutant. He's a mutant. End of train of thought.      S6 gets a hand held up and more of a look. "You more Chaplain trash? Fuck off back to that damned Cathedral." He scowls at her. Then he looks at the rest of the party and shrugs. "Ah, fuck it. Whatever. It's not my problem. Mr. Julius'll meet all of you. If you're not interested in paying homage to the Underlord, you can go hit the black market. We had another fucking Chaplainer come through here earlier and if one of them can do it so can you. Your money's as good as anyone else's."
Gilgamesh	THE BASE      Sanary, Kirito, and Sarracenia head for the squat mlitary building. Up close it is *definitely* a military building, though these men are barely in anything that can be called a uniform. It's sewn-together and scrounged, bits and pieces of leather. Sanary gets a sneer. "King? No King down here. Only the Lord-Commander. You want to talk to the Lord Commander, *you* need a permit." He rolls his shoulders at Kirito when Kirito asks basically the same question. When Kirito asks who's in charge of /most/ of the people down here, the man says, "Obviously it's us. First Narsine."      The man rolls his shoulders again, glancing at Sarracenia. The look of irritation gives way to a look of understanding. "You here to sell her? Can't pay your topside so you came down here for some scrape and scrounge, huh? She your wife? Your daughter? She doesn't look like military stock but we can fix that soon enough. Bring her inside and you can talk to the Quartermaster about your pay."
Gilgamesh	RAZIEL      Raziel floats, ethereal, among the smog and pollution. The whole place is an obstruction, really; trying to clean this place out would be a nightmare and a half. Any construction crews working down here would be under constant threat from the inhabitants. More than that, the First Narsine base appears *heavily* fortified, as does - now that he's flying - the Factory. There's a *lot* of guys with guns in the town, too, so the whole place looks like kind of a powder-keg. Actually...it's kind of weird. It reminds Raziel of dealing with vampire gangs - everyone is /super/ territorial and the areas are /super/ well-defined. There are big no-man's lands in between the areas, big enough to be noticable, and as the party moves around them, various guards start moving to reinforce the borders in subtle ways.
Kotone Yamakawa	Kotone Yamakawa finds that S6 is catching up to her and she smiles at the android as she joins up. "Good to have some company along for this, S6. Kotone is a bit out of place here, even today to she is clearly too clean. For the moment, give it a few hours and that will likely change. She sends a signal to S6. <<I suggest you have your partner play dumb.>> She will keep moving for the factory and Phobos is ahead of her at this point. She takes note of the local and Kotone is greeted by one of the people ion Red-Robes she smiles back politely. "I'm good on supplies I should leave those to those who need it. Mmm so you are short of medical supplies and Chaplain? I'd like to hear more about this I'm curious." She'd like to learn more about the situation down here and this could be a good chance. The food and water look far better than she might have expected this deep down but the red robes make her wonder she will check them over for any icons or symbols as she talks to them. "So this town is a cooperative to get by then?" Also at some point she's split off from S6, whose gone to check out the town while Kotone kept for the factory where she is now. "So there anything interesting going on down here as of late?"
Phobos	Chaplain sure isn't a title that belongs to her anymore.     But unlike her more insane brethren, Phobos has no qualms continuing the wear the iconography of the Adeptus Mechanicus. It gets her stuff. Usually free stuff. It get her places. It gets her ignored. It works out, as long as nobody can recognize her signature upside-down crescent optics.     And then sometimes it doesn't work out.     "Skum territory," she repeats, her completely synthetic voice droning flatly. "Is that so. I'll return later, then."     (?) Phobos will remember that.     The welcome at the factory is even more insulting.     They're getting their... FLESH... all over her robes.     Those disgusting bodies wear the colors of Mars and dare pretend to worship the Omnissiah. She would fume, if she still had the organs to. Instead her optics mimic a squint.     "I'm here to inspect, not play games. Talk to me once your devotion to the Machine God is apparent, until then, liberate my passage."     She doesn't stop for the weebs. Not for the guards. She heads inside - ever familiar with the layout of factories. To the director's office it is. Let's not waste time. The path should let her see just what they're making here, too.
Bedivere	Bedivere is thankful that he doesn't need to hide his displeasure with the nature of the situation, comfy behind the visor of his helmet. He sees the way people eye his horse, but is mostly thankful that he is at least amazing and dazzling the populace. It's somewhat embarassing for the humble man, but it's what the White Knight is *supposed* to do. "Thank you, good sir." He says, letting his beast rest freely as he climbs down from the saddle. It will come to him again when needed, and if anyone tries to stick a fork in it, they'll need a new solarplexus, which may be a good lesson for them.      He extends his hand to S6, though he doesn't know her name, offering to guide her inside as a counteraction toward her mistaken identity and near rejection. "We shall meet Mr. Julius together it seems." Or, well, it's at least a start.
Solomon Lau	Solomon listens lazily to the discussion between the massive guard and the chaplain. The others have the factory handled, so as everything's explained, Solomon just nods to the guard as the priest leaves. "Skum territory, got it. I'll find the Underlord, then. Got a direction?" Whether or not he gets it, Solomon heads in that direction. He keeps a tight hold of his briefcase does, and if S2 and Bedivere come forward, Solomon moves to walk along side them if they head the same destination. He talks under his breath. "They're criminals, alright. Probably every last one of them. This is the type of place I would have been frequently in the past, if I was from this world."
Kirito	THE BASE     On the way to the base, Kirito hears the unmistakable sound of a girl in considerable distress... following him. Not unfamiliar to this, he turns to look - just in time for Sarracenia to catch up to him and attach herself to him via arm-grab. Though rather wide-eyed at this sudden intrusion on his personal space, he nevertheless clamps down on his reflexes, and swallows the urge to pull away. Instead he manages a warm 'everything is ok' smile at her. "Hi, Princess."     Yeah. This is pretty awkward now. Incredibly awkward. Because he tries to keep a 'not taking any bullshit' hard look on his face with the guards and... they say things that should simply not be said. His teeth quietly begin to grind - though Sarracenia might hear that. She'll definitely notice the way his muscles tense with suppressed rage.     With Sarracenia on one side of him, and then Sanary over on the other... the young man hisses, barely repressing his urge to get violent, "It seems you guys aren't keeping tabs on what's happening topside. This world's under new management. Your undercity's gonna get bulldozed. And if that's the kind of... business you guys conduct down here, I'm all for it. So consider these weapons of ours permit enough."     Kirito reaches up with his free hand and draws Vox Unitas with as much of a grating, easily audible noise as he can, only to let it dangle loosely at his side. "By the way. I'd apologize. The lovely Princess here has a REALLY big hammer. And she--" He tilts his head Sanary's way, "Could take your heads off before you blinked with that axe."
Gilgamesh	FACTORY      Kotone gets a broad smile. "If you have medical supplies to share then please, we'd welcome them. We can give you a fair price for them, I'm sure. Repairs inside. The Chaplain's taught us well."      "Oh, yes," another pipes up eagerly, "The Chaplain has taught us the ways of the Omnissiah. Praise be the Great Machine." The others repeat this before the woman says, "The Chaplain is - hey, hold on!"      Phobos just walks past everybody and straight through the doors. The guards don't really even stop her.      Inside is a cathedral.      It's a cathedral in worship of production. Assembly-lines pump out not only makeshift weapons but filtrators, rebreathers, and recycled food products. They zig-zag every which way in a maddening jumble of repurposed works. In front of them all is a pulpit, at which a man in red robes stands.      He is /not/ unconverted. He is covered, heavily, in machinery. His arms are mechanical clickers. His back is covered in metallic octopus arms. His eyes are both mechanical, and he no longer has a mouth, only a whirring faceplate without even a speaker grille. His robes are proper and righteous, though old and faded. Phobos would guess they've been faded for a very long time.      The tech-priest stares at her.      Then he produces, from under his robe, a heavy lascannon. ++You won't take me back!++ He shrieks in a tinny, metal voice. ++I won't go back! Leave! Leave before I kill you!++      The voice can be heard all the way outside. The men in robes are already gathering hidden weapons from under their robes. They clearly aren't simply peaceful cultists after all.
Raziel	'From my vantage point, I could see the underside scurry around like rats.  This was a powder keg ready for an errant spark, intentional or otherwise, to set off a massive explosion and fire.  My thoughts turned to the King being underinformed of the severity of the problem.  I would include this into my report, so that the King may better surround himself with those who could better do their jobs.  Regardless, this was an issue I would see resolved.' Raziel leaps from his perch, aiming to use telekinesis to slow his fall and land nearby to those on guard around the base.  He simply would listen in on their plans.  Lips tend to be looser when they think nobody is around to hear them.   After some time he would also look around through the rest of the base, doing his best to stay immaterial and not in plain sight, mostly aiming to get a better look at what goes on behind the closed doors.  Deciding intelligence would be a good first step.
Sarracenia	The princess's whining and discontent evaporates immediately when the guard asks if she is here to be sold. Instead one can practically feel the waves of indignation, and if looks could kill he'd be laying on the floor.      "WHAT?!"      With her voice, that single shrieked sylable also echoes around the area. "Do you not see the CROWN?!" She gestures emphatically with both hands to the golden crown atop her head. "This is not merely for show!! I am Princess Sarracenia Sundew! Crown Princess of the Sundew Kingdom! If I ever WERE for sale, your entire Undercity would not be able to scrape together enough of a payment to purchase me!! In fact, I could likely purchase this entire Undercity and still have enough money left over to ensure you were tortured for the rest of your life as reward for your insolence!"      The princess takes a breath, but that is clearly only so she can keep yelling. "We were sent by your new King! King Gilgamesh! King of All, of Uruk, of Denmark, and of whatever he chooses to name this place! And if you are wise you will start considering how best to show your allegience in both attitude and practice!" She takes another deep breath...then coughs as the fumes get to her again. "Nnng..."      She coughs again, then glares again. "This does not need to be deadly, but as my friend Kirito says...we are well armed and ready to press the issue." she adds, reaching into her purse and pulling out the very hammer Kirito mentioned. A hammer as tall as the princess, who is no small figure at 6 feet tall. A hammer that looks like its head weighs much more than she does. And a hammer she steps back with to do a twirling flourish around herself, showing how easily she can wield the massive weapon before she levels it at the guard. "I -STRONGLY- suggest you apologize to me -and- start flying the banner of King Gilgamesh."
S6	"Mm," S6 pauses when addressed. The rudeness of how she's spoken to is more or less discarded. She simply offers a correction, "I am affiliated with no Chaplain. My name is S6." It comes out like 'Essix', the way Septette has been saying it, rather than clearly enunciating the letter-number divide.     Invited to speak with the apparent leader. This 'Julius'. Her Pod beeps, and she jerks her gaze towards it. It responds by increasing its altitude, largely to ensure it's out of reach of all but the most determined snatchers.     -IDENTIFICATION: SKUM TERRITORY. UPDATE COMPLETE.-     "Mm... And this Chaplain's Cathedral?"     -PROPOSAL: UNIT S6 SHOULD CONTINUE TO INVESTIGATE IMO DOLLI.-     -HYPOTHEOSIS: LARGE OBSERVED STRUCTURES ARE LIKELY TO HOUSE RIVAL FACTIONS.-     -INVESTIGATION OF THESE STRUCTURES IS SECONDARY PRIORITY TO IMO DOLLI.-     "Right..." S6 glances towards Solomon, then the wandering knight. Her presumed gaze lingers on Bedivere's outstretched hand for a moment. She doesn't appear to be apprehensive so much as she's not actually sure how to respond to the gesture. It takes a bit for her to tentatively reach up and meet the Knight's hand with her own, accepting the guidance, "Let's see what Underlord Julius has to say."
Sanary Rondel	Spotting Kirito and Sarracenia, Sanary chuckles at their antics what with the clothes and everything being rather disgusting. "Hey, Kirito. Sarra. Looks like we got the same place in mind this time. Don't get too excited now." Turning back to the guards, however, the healer scoffs lightly when he gives his answer. "Lord-Commander? Uh... Huh. Really." Sanary shakes her head and puts two fingers to her temple, muttering to herself after a moment. "And I thought Queen Exalt was a dumb name..." Spitting off to the side, she glances over at Kirito as he gets the same treatment, then at Sarracenia when they suggest selling the princess to them. Her grip tightens around the axe handle as she pulls it forward enough to rest on shoulder instead of her back, and then an eerily cheerful smile crosses the healer's face when Kirito draws his twin blades. It might also be a smidge self-conscious since her axe is decidedly less fancy. It's big, it's sharp, but it doesn't have the flash. "Y'know what? We already smell like shit. A little blood'll wash that right off, and I know just where we can get a lot of it." She spits off to the side again, smirking at the turrets as if daring whoever's manning them to fire. She breaks out in laughter when Sarracenia, too, pulls out that giant hammer of hers, lowering the blade to the ground to drag it beside her as she starts advancing on the guards. "So what's it gonna be? You gonna step aside and grovel, or will we need to walk over your corpses in a minute?"
Staren	Staren's drone is tackled. They can have it if they really want, he has plenty more. He considers the red-robed men. Techpriests. He's looked into the knowledge they claim to have about technology and found some 99.9999% of it to be bullshit, the other 0.0001% or so freak accidents that are generalized from. So he doesn't give them the same respect as true men of science -- but still, these ones seem friendly and Staren likes being honest. "We are here on behalf of the new planetary governor. We understand there are some problems making full use of the facilities down here to produce goods and soldiers for the use of the planet. What exactly is holding up production?"     And then there's shouting and people start reaching for guns. Staren just raises an arm and blasts a hole through the wall with particle beam cannons. "Think REAL hard about whether you want to fight. Because it will not go well for you."
Phobos	Phobos' optics gleam brightly.     A laugh escapes her synthesizer.     "Oh you poor, old fool. You don't remember me?" The upside down moon optics light up, intentionally. "No, no, that's right. You vanished before me. You couldn't possibly know."     A mechanical tendril whirls out of her robes. There's the distinct green hue of a Necron gauss rifle at the tip, heavily tinkered in place.     Another mechanical tendril whirls out of her robes. An Eldar Star Glaive is affixed at the end, a great glowing blade.     Another tendril whirls out. The wicked shape of a Dark Eldar Splinter Pistol is grafted at the end of that one limb.     "I'm not here to take you back. I'm here to work out a /deal/. You have a factory. I need a factory. And I'm paying a premium in /discoveries/."     The tone of her synth voice rattles into hostile as she hears Staren behind her, her head snapping to glare back in a jerking motion - completely unnatural, like her neck is a mechanism that made a single movement to turn rather than a fluid motion.     "Oh. It's you again. What luck."
Mortimer Balman	One of the cultists that was pulling out a hidden weapon to go help fight Phobos would suddenly be stopped. A gaunt hand rested on his shoulder. Strong as steel despite and almost large enough to wrap around his head. "Stop." The hooded head was beside his, breathing out a cold and unpleasantly sweet smoke. The voice is a rasping one with a hint of a French accent. "Listen to the strange boy. He speaks the Omnissiah's truth. If you listen to him, you will survive, and further serve the Machine God.." The hand is steadily forcing the man to sit in one of the factory-pews, slowly. He's absurdly strong, though trying hard not to let the others see that..
Gilgamesh	IMO DOLLI      Bedivere, Solomon, and S6 are ushered inside. Solomon immediately recognizes it as a criminal town; to Bedivere it looks a lot like those towns that lingered outside the range of Camelot, towns controlled by an upstart Knight or Duke. There are clearly people who *aren't* criminals here, men and women washing their clothes, but there's also a hustling and bustling black market, and pretty much everyone is armed. It's a frontier town for sure. The party is led through to the largest building, which is much more heavily-guarded than the rest, with several large abhumans out front. Actually there's a *lot* of abhumans here; a surprising number of animalistic mutants, though none of them full-animal, merely 'people with strange and disturbing features.'      The three are led inside, and up to a desk. Behind that desk is a gentleman.      There's no other word for it, really. A gentleman is what he is, and a gentleman is how he carries himself. His hair is cropped and smartly-combed despite the bits of filth that are unavoidable in the undercity. His suit, though torn, has been kept as clean as possible in this place. He has a cigar - a real one - in one hand, a sharp black beard, and a single cybernetic eye.      "New folk to Imo Dolli, are you?" He asks in a sharp, clipped voice, with all the precision of an oil baron. "I'm Mister Julius. I've been expecting your sort eventually."      He leans forward. "My watch saw you come down in the elevator with the PDF. If you're here to burn us out you can go fuck yourselves."      The abhumans in the room draw guns and point them at the group. Mister Julius takes a puff of his cigar. "If you're here for anything else, then we can do business."      "But I run this place. I run this sector. Are we clear on that?"      "Now then."      He sits back. "Can we do business? Or do we have a /problem/?"
Kotone Yamakawa	Kotone Yamakawa is trying to gather more information she's not had much experience with the Priests of Mars. Still, she knows that they are about as cybernetics happy as her homeworld is nad so far she's not seen any cybernetics on these people. So that raises some interest to her. She could get there might be a few recent converts but this? This set off a few alarm bells to her. "I'm afraid I do not have any medical supplies on me I would be curious to learn more about the situation down here. I'm good on repairs for the moment." She takes note of that, it is likely /rare/ as hell for anyone to be able to do that down here. "I'm also here on behalf of the Governer he wishes for the thing or things holding up the rebuilding handled, and I'm of the mind I'd rather work with the people down here to claw out of this life to something better. If your group has kept a factory up and running? That says you have something worth talking about." Staren goes bad cop it seems Kotone is going good cop. "Look I'm not looking for a fight nor are my friends here hwe are here to help." She's glad for Mort's sudden apperance, it might just help tip things in the favour of not fighting.
Gilgamesh	THE BASE      Kirito draws weapons. So does Sarra. So does Sanary. The guards look at each other nervously, wary. They're not sure what to do. One of them moves his mouth, probably sub-voxing something somewhere. Turrets train on the party.      "Th-The Lord Commander," one of the guards says, "Isn't interested in your new management. If w-we wanted to be managed we wouldn't be down here. Y-You can...you can take your King whoever and tell him to f-fuck off." He's stumbling, because he's obviously delivering someone else's message - someone who *isn't* staring down the barrel of a loaded sword, axe, and hammer. His nerves are fraying and it's clear that another push might get him to relent, but he's also been trained - though not very well.      "I think," the other guard says after a moment, "There's been a misunderstanding, sir. We're not slavers. We buy conscripts. We don't sell people elsewhere; it's just, we need numbers if we're going to bring the undercity under some semblance of order, what with the Skum and the Chaplain's Contingent down here."      "Look, I shouldn't do this, but..." He wavers. "I don't really want to die. Just tell them inside you're new recruits on your way to meet the Lord-Commander and it'll be fine. Just go down the stairs. You're not Skum and you're not Chaplain so..." He shrugs.      The other man looks at him. "Are you serious?"      "No reason, right? No problem."      "The Lord-Commander-"      "Won't care, Erek. Just let them go."      After a hesitant moment, a code is quickly keyed into a pad. The door hisses open, and the three are ushered inside. The door closes behind them, leaving them amidst an array of twisting, winding corridors - not military-precise *at all*. There's a turret in front of them, hanging from the ceiling, but it's inactive. It's probably why the guard didn't care if they went inside.      The way to the Lord-Commander is straight down the stairs to the front, but the other twisting paths lead to places like MESS, BARRACKS, QUARTERMASTER...
Gilgamesh	Raziel floats through the base's walls, invisible and inaudible. Most of what he hears is...well, it's military jargon. They're talking about operations. They're planning out paths. It's heavily-jargon-laden, full of unfamiliar terms and unfamiliar ideas, but he can get the basic sense - they're planning a large-scale attack on...it *sounds* like Imo Dolli. That'd make sense; the town's between them and the Factory.      After a bit, someone leaves the room, being told that 'Lord-Commander, there are new recruits heading to your room; we'll take it from here.' The sound of cybernetics moving through the building fills his ears, and following the Lord-Commander will end up in his office.
Bedivere	Bedivere had given S6 a warm smile as she took his hand. He doesn't fully know what her situation is, but the Knight of Generosity knows to help everyone if he can, even in small ways. He doesn't jerk her along or anything, and lets it drop when things move to professionality. He even lifts his visor to meet with this Mr. Julius, a sign of his respect to meet him face to face rather than as the Knight. Certainly, he knows how to deal with these situations now that he's seen it more up close. Ever Petty Duke with delusions of grandeur has the same levers, and it was his job to pull them at Camelot.     Guns are pulled, and tensions suddenly skyrocket. Bedivere is singularly unconcerned however. He instead speaks to Julius earnestly and directly: "Let's suppose you did kill us. There are other missions dispatched to the other factions of this underbelly, and they might succeed or die themselves. The more of us who die down here, the faster it will be clear to the King that a more aggressive solution is required, and he really will lead an army down here and burn you all out. He lacks the time for patience, which is why he sends us." He starts, sighing. "But that isn't our objective. Our objective is to see his authority acknowledged, and abuses ended. We are not above negotiating the specifics of your vassalization to the King's banner, but it will happen or your reign over imo dolli will end, one way or another. Understand me as a knight of my word, I mean you no harm."
Solomon Lau	Solomon enters. He's polite enough as Mister Julius begins, and tips his head. As Julius leans forward, though, he frowns. And then he picks up movement. Guns. Solomon reflexively reaches into his jacket and pulls out his own pistol. It's big, but not too big to be a metaphor for inadequacy. It's the type of pistol someone who knows his guns uses to ensure a job done well. Solomon doesn't point it at anyone, but it's drawn, as his eyes narrow. Mister Julius can probably tell that Solomon, himself, is a criminal. If he's had experience with professional killers, he can probably tell that Solomon is one, based off the fact that Solomon's scanning the room, has his gun at the perfect position to move and hit the guard most likely to strike him first based off firing trajectories. His briefcase is gripped, and the desk is eyed sharply as a place of cover, despite the person behind it. But Solomon does not attack unless attacked. Instead, his confidence actually /swells/ in this situation, instead of being anxious like he was before. "My name is Solomon Lau, and I work for the Paladins. Currently, my employer is King Gilgamesh, the ruler of Narsine. He told me I could solve this any way I want. But I know your type. You want to keep things orderly. You don't want chaos. You want respect." "I don't owe you that, yet, but I can work with you. I can do business. You have a cult problem. You have a military problem with that big base, too, don't you" You're going to need help to deal with that. There's a lot of us down here working with us. Now, here's my pitch." "Work with the man up above. Work with /us/. And we'll make sure your enemies here, the cult, the military men, they're dealt with. You can take the floor from here. After all, this is your show. But that's my offer." Bedivere gets a nod. What Bedivere is saying reinforces what Solomon's saying. If they shoot him right now for this, there'll be an army down here. So hopefully, they won't shoot him for drawing his gun.
Sanary Rondel	When the guard starts stammering, Sanary's laughter grows louder. She makes a beeline for that guard, but shoulders the axe instead of dragging it like some sort of shitty slasher movie villain. She shakes her head lightly, then reaches over to pat the guard's shoulder while nudging him downwards to make sure she can speak closer to his earpiece. "Hey. Hey. Whoever's feeding..." She snaps her fingers a few times, stage-whispering to the guard. "Name?" If he gives his name, she'll repeat it and follow it up with "lines" before snickering audibly. "This guy's got bigger balls than you! At least he's actually sayin' it to us instead of hiding." As for the other guard, he gets a slow nod while Sanary taps her chin. "See, you gotta lead with that. You say it like you did before, you coulda had your insides become your outsides. Doesn't hurt me one bit, but you probably like keeping them in there." She taps on her head, then starts heading right on inside when the path opens. She pauses, however, to look over her shoulder and from behind her axe at the guards. "Oh. If you hear any sc-" And the door shuts. Eye twitching ever so slightly, the healer sighs once more before pushing onwards. The turret gets a raised eyebrow, but she pays it little mind as she continues along the path. "Anyway. Let's find this Lord Assbag or whatever. Uhh.... Lordermaster." Quartermaster. That's the same thing, right? Right.
Kirito	The turrets moving don't go unnoticed. Kirito's doing his best to keep his attention focused on the guards, but his eyes do noticeably swerve to take notice of the distant movements and barrels pointing his way. His sword grip tightens slightly... but he listens calmly to the guards and their explanation.     It's at this point that Kirito realizes he's made a dreadful mistake of going at this problem without gathering more information. On the other hand... HOW was he supposed to gather any information in a decent timespan? He'll just have to follow his instincts and wing it.     And knowing that causes his gut to sink rather dreadfully!     Still, with the guards reluctantly acquiescing, he exclaims harshly, "That much is obvious. Now let's hope your Lord-Commander's willing to make a few compromises while there's still options to be picked."     He doesn't say anything further though. Just nods, sheathes his weapon across his back again... and marches on in.
Gilgamesh	FACTORY      Staren blows a hole through the Cathedral-Factory's wall. Inside, he sees Phobos and another, quite clearly older, tech-priest, who is pointing a heavy cannon at her. He must've been the source of the noise. The tech-priest's mechanical eyes whirr as he looks from Phobos to Staren. ++Are...are you?++ He asks, the weapon hesitating. ++I'm not...I'm not a heretek. I'm not.++      His hand wavers. He's staring at the Necron gear. At the splinter glaive. At the halberd. At Staren's weaponry. Old instincts are kicking in. His eyes whirr. He has the look of a man who wants to know more, or at least a very interested machine. He leans forward, clicking lenses zooming in.      ++...++      ++...very well. C-come in. No sense in...ignoring a hand outstretched. The Omnissiah says that all hands idle are all hands wasted.++      Thanks to Mortimer and Kotone, the men outside put away their weapons before they go running. The young priest looks up at Mortimer, squinting. "You're a mutant, aren't you," he asks, "Your hand feels strange. You shouldn't be here. The Chaplain...we don't like mutants here. The Skum might be recruiting, though. You want to see them? They're in the town. I..."      He looks around. "I don't think you're a bad person, so I won't tell anyone if you go now."      Kotone announces that she's here on behalf of the governor. The priest outside says, "There's a governor now? The old one died or something? About time, I guess. They sent kill-crews down here regularly, you know. Fire-teams. We had to arm up to defend ourselves, and eventually we had to defend ourselves from the Skum, too. First Narsine helped out from time to time in exchange for repairs but they don't much like our 'heresy' either. Like they're ones to talk."
Sarracenia	The men don't apologize, but at least one of them shows respect and explains the situation a bit. Sarracenia raises an eyebrow, then lowers her weapon and rests it over her shoulder. "...fine. I suppose this Lord-Commander is the one we should be talking to anyway, if he is your leader." She makes her way inside after that. "But you know...if your group is already hurting for recruits to keep order, imagine what could be done with the support of the actual ruler of this land. One who is by some measures akin to and by some measures much more powerful than the ruler of the Imperium. Perhaps you should be looking to join as his recruits, rather than following this Lord-Commander who is obviously having trouble down here."      And then...she hands them some business cards. "Or, if you get tired of living down here, you can always join the Sundew military." she adds. She seems to have calmed down for the most part. She also notes the turret, but doesn't even spare it a glance. And she definitely does not go to any place other than wherever the Lord-Commander is.      She blinks as Sanary heads toward the quartermaster, then coughs lightly to try and get Sanary's attention. "I believe it is this way, Sanary. Unless you are looking to...'aquire' some equipment again?"
S6	Brought before Julius, S6 settles reflexitively into an at-ease posture, her eyes still concealed. The man behind the desk is...unexpected. Given the disheveled nature of the rest of this town's occupants, a tidy gentleman in a suit is the exact opposite of expectation.     Soldiers draw guns. S6's response is instantaneous. The two swords she carries flip out of their scabbards, golden runes glowing around their crossguards. Immediately she's dropped into a battle-ready position, the weapons poised above and to either side of her.     Bedivere speaks, and the woman's posture loosens. Solomon addresses the mastermind with his obvious confidence, and S6's posture lifts into a more relaxed position. The swords flip around to point downward, sliding back into their sheaths-- and only then do the golden runes disappear.     "Standing down. ...My apologies. I am... 'jumpy'."     -REFLEX RESPONSE WITHIN PARAMETERS.-     She lifts her gaze briefly towards the Pod, then returns her attention to Julius.
Raziel	Raziel listens, getting a feel for what is going on.  So these guys are looking to take the central territory to expand their position, and eventually, take on the cult to give them access to eventually infinite guns.   These people seem to be amassing forces, it is obvious that their purpose is military in nature.  The powderkeg is likely here... However, there is a key to their fuse.  Raziel steps behind the Commander when he gets to his office, forcing himself to manifest with the utmost stealth.  The Reaver comes to activate, as he thrusts the soul-devouring weapon into the back and through the chest of the Lord Commander.   'It was a matter of time before this was going to be set off, and it was clear as day that these people were going to be the largest obstruction to the King's reign.  The Lord Commander seemed uninterested in following in line.  Let us see if his successor would be more inclined to do so.'
Phobos	"What?"     Phobos' head snaps back to the Chaplain.     "Did I process that correctly? My deal is for you. Look at you! Do you know what I hear, when I listen?"     Phobos steps closer to the Chaplain.     "I hear the creaks of your joints, unoiled and unloved."     "I hear the clicks of your optics in dire need of replacing."     "I hear the screw loose on the side of your weapon."     Phobos takes another step closer.     "I HEAR THE MACHINE SPIRITS WITHIN YOUR BODY, BEGGING TO BE RECONNECTED WITH THE OMNISSIAH! I HEAR THEIR CRIES, THEIR HUNGER, THEIR DISREPAIR! And it /hurts me/, 'Chaplain'. Oh how it hurts me."     Her tendrils fully extend, as if gesturing at the entire factory at once. "And don't get me STARTED on the state of this place! What've you allowed to happen here? Let /me/ help you. These people are a waste of both of our times, and our resources. You were smart enough to unchain yourself, too. Now let's reach for the Machine God together."
Gilgamesh	IMO DOLLI      Bedivere lays it on the table. The Underlord, Mister Julius, drums a finger on his desk, staring at the knight. "We have a King now?" He asks, taking a puff of his cigar. The smoke fills the room with a sharp and unpleasant scent. "The hell is a King? Like the God-Emperor? Listen, I'm as loyal to the God-Emperor as the next man, you don't need to tell me that. Probably more loyal than those fucking red-robes down the way, or those traitors. You know I served?" He taps his eye. "Former soldier. Served with that puffed-up jackass calling himself the Lord-Commander. /He/ ran. /I/ was left for dead."      "So you'll forgive me," he says, taking a drag, "If I don't love the idea of betraying my Emperor for some new governor. Governors come and go, my strangely-clad friend. If he wants to send more PDF down here, then he's welcome to. He can come down here and suck my cock if he likes; it'll probably make me more disposed towards him than the last fat fucker who ruled the place."      After a moment, though, of sitting there, listening, he waves his hand. The guns go down. "OK. Let's say you're authorized to speak about /vassalization/. Here's the thing. You know what we do here? We sell contraband. We sell drugs. We sell pleasures. We sell escape. We let the poor bastards down here have a few minutes of peace from the hell they're all stuck in. So what do we have to offer this King...Gilgamesh? What a stupid fucking a name."      "Still...you say he's willing to bring an army down here, huh? And you're willing to help us with the other two problems down here?" Mr. Julius eyes Solomon, then Bedivere.      S6 produces her weapons. It's fast enough that the men rear back in shock. Julius stares at her for a long moment as she sits down.      He points at S6. "You."      "I think I've got a job for you. And the rest of you, if you're interested. But I've never seen blades like that, and I bet those would be just the ticket to solving the Tunnel Trawler."      "Tell you what. You willing to do that? The Skum'd be grateful. I'll sit and listen to whatever the fuck you want if you can get home in one piece."
Staren	Staren listens to all this. He sighs at the bit about how the government used to send ATTACK SQUADS. "How does the Imperium expect you to make stuff for them if they're ATTACKING you? Ugh." He shakes his head and walks in at the offer.     "Heretek? Mutant? New management only cares that you do your job and do it well, or if you dream of a better world and work to make it a reality. This planet is full of people and there's aliens and demons and evil cults and shit out there that want to kill everybody. Narsine can't AFFORD to have its people fighting eachother -- those who would impede its survival and progress will be... dealt with." He nods at the hole in the wall for emphasis.     Staren claps his hands. "Now then! What is currently impeding the undercity from doing its best?"     He doesn't have any particular comment on Phobos offering to turn people into robots. It might be for the best but this generally is a subject that's only going to bog down more productive talks, in his experience.
Kotone Yamakawa	Kotone Yamakawa sees the men throw down their weapon and run, she lets them go and is thankful internally for this, she knows things are a mess down here but she's got farther than she hoped she thinks for a moment at what the man says to her. "Yes, the old one no longer a concern for anyone. The current government has started on a repair and restructuring program for the entire planet. We have been sent down here to solve a program something's been holding up the work here and the current one wishes it solved. He does not care how so only as it is solved and I for one would like to see thing improve for the people of the underhive. Your group also seems to be trying to keep things going, you have kept this Factory Cathdreal operational on some level. You know this floor of the hive better than we do and anyone willing to aid in the restoration would be of value. We need to find out what is holding up things and get the problem fixed."
Gilgamesh	++Yes,++ the old priest whispers, his voice quiet and tinny, staring at Phobos. ++I'll listen to you. I'm...++      ++I missed it. I missed the hum. The rapture. I just wanted to disappear. So many people down here, though. In need of help. In need of the light of the god. In need of...in need of so much. I just...++      ++...help me.++
Bedivere	Bedivere retains his sigh that the negotiation did not go as smoothly as he hoped. After all it could have gone MUCH worse. He stretches lightly, glancing back at the windows and outside. "I think you sell yourselves short and are needlessly disrespectful. the King brings order, food, and community. You /have/ people, commerce, organization. That you presently deal in some things that will have to go is not especially important. You can find new things to do. The King's public works are vast, and only some of them require skilled labor." He says.     Glancing to Solomon, to S6, Bedivere smiles. They presented enough force to show they're serious, he considers it a help. "Now, if you have a quest you need solved, I'm sure we could show our sincerity through its solution."
Mortimer Balman	"Yes. I am a mutant. But that's not important, my boy. What's important is *you*" Time to put some of those oratory skills to work, his voice takes on the tone of an authoritative elder. The hand gently releases the aspiring priest, dusts his robe off a bit. "A new dawn is coming. Take this.." He holds out a combead. It looks like any other combead, cheap and standard piece of technology you can't swing a dead ratling without tripping over. "I have no time to explain why, but keep this with you, keep it on at all times. Do this, maybe you'll save some more lives. Maybe even your own. You will not see me again, no fear. Be safe, and good bye."      He doesn't have Staren's resources, he doesn't have that magical glamour that Gilgamesh enjoys, he has to do things the hard way: charisma, authority, and blind dumb luck. Hopefully the young priest will do what he says. Maybe he can amass information, maybe he can't. All that matters is doing what he can.. Staren and Kotone have it under control now, or so he thinks. Next stop: the Base. If he's lucky he'll have time to visit the Town as well.
S6	"S6," the android responds when pointed at. Once again, she drags the syllables together so that it sounds like 'Essix'. A conscious decision. Given the hostility directed at her Pod outside, she figures it might not be a good thing to be forthright about her nature as a machine. Though, she suspects, her behavior will out her sooner or later.     Bedivere makes the offer plain, and so S6 simply raises her hand. Her Pod floats forward to hover above her palm, "Produce all data on this Tunnel Trawler. If it is monster extermination you want, this is one of my...specialties."     Somehow it feels dishonest to say that and not 'functions'. S6 pushes it out of her mind. It's not technically a lie. She is a highly specialized unit, after all.
Solomon Lau	As the guns are put away, Solomon puts his own away. He still holds the briefcase tightly. When Julius mentions what they do, Solomon looks up, and then glances at Bedivere, wanting him to handle that part of the plan. The part he's good at though... Is killing things. "We can tear things apart, yeah. What is this Tunnel Trawler? We'll get to it as soon as we can, if your word is true, and being a professional, I assume your word is true." Solomon's eyes narrow. The message he's sending is 'don't be lying to me'. "You know, Mr. Julius. I think you're the winning team. That's why it's best for us all to cooperate here, instead of the insane cultist bastards or, what'd you say, traitorous military men? Fuck that." Solomon feels strangely at ease in this situation. He despises it. He should arrest Mr. Julius. But this is the best plan to protecting the people, in his eyes. Working with the man who reminds him too much of people he's met, to the point that if Solomon drew his gun and blew his brains out, no good person would care. But he's got to try and do the job in front of them.
Phobos	"YES! EXACTLY!" Phobos exclaims. Her optics are so bright they illumine the rest of her face - or lack thereof. It's all machine under there, like a cobbled-together mess meant to look like a face, though the distinct shape of her voice synthesizer and respirator is easy enough to make out.     "Oh we're going to make great things together. Did you know the new manager upstairs has Necrons roaming about? Let's talk about that a bit later. For now..."     She whirls about, snaps back to facing Staren and Kotone, and the myriad weapons at the end of her mechanical limbs hum, already trailing at them.     "Let's ask these wonderful people to leave /our/ property, and then let's talk renovations. Let's talk expanding. For every home a conveyor belt, for every head a console, for every hand a tool! And those who refuse enlightenment can become one with the Machine God in death. Blessed be the Servitors, freed from life and the impulses of the flesh, directed by perfection."     She focuses on Staren and Kotone again. "You will leave, in one piece or in many. Choose. We will offer none tribute but the Omnissiah himself!"     A brief pause. She clicks like a hard drive. "Unless you have something to offer us?"
Gilgamesh	THE BASE      The guy almost wets himself as Sanary tells his superior officer that. He's probably going to be disciplined later. The other guard gives her a look as they pass in. "Most people already know it," he says, "So we figured you did, too. Sorry about the mix-up." When Sarracenia lowers her weapon, he says, "...I'm sorry. I didn't realize why you were here. Most people only come to us because we have food. Rations, you see. We can produce them and they last forever. Better food than that packaged recycled crap the Factory spits out. So they come to us, and we pay them in food or credits. The Lord-Commander...he's got a lot of money."      Mortimer rolls up to join them, still in his robes. The techpriest-in-training(?) took the combead; nothing stops Mort from entering. The soldiers just wave him in after Kirito and the others.      Sanary heads to the Quartermaster. It's a winding, unpleasant hallway. At the end of it is a desk, with a cage above it, and a bored-looking man in a similar stitched-together uniform waiting. Sanary enters, and the man looks at her and shrugs. "You new? Don't think we've got any uniforms that'll fit your chest, so you can just wait on that. I'll have somebody alter one when we've got more material. In the meantime, lasrifle and boots."      He presses a very, very old - almost derelict - lasrifle at her, and a pair of ratty boots. "Welcome to the First Narsine, sister. An historic brigade. We're gonna make history down here."      Meanwhile, Kirito and Mortimer and Sarracenia head to the Lord-Commander's office.      It is a *nice* office, which Raziel has already found out, as he's floating behind the man, hidden from view. The three are ushered inside a very nice door. A very nice desk sits in front of a CADIAN THIRD regiment flag that drapes over what would probably be windows but here are just crude drawings. An old lasgun hangs on one wall.      The Lord-Commander himself is a man in an Imperial Guard uniform. Unlike all the others, it's legitimate. It has a CADIAN THIRD emblem on the chest. His right eye is missing, his hair is white from stress, his beard is black with a skunk-trail through the middle, and he has a cybernetic arm and leg. A makeshift cape hangs around his back, and a Commissar's Hat - most assuredly purloined - sits upon his head.      "Welcome, new recruits. Always heartening to see new people ready to do the Emperor's work. He Protects, you know." The Commander smiles. "Tell me, what brings you here? Ready to get rid of those criminal mutants? Those heretical tech-priests? Ready to do your part for the God-Emperor?"
Sanary Rondel	"Wha? No, no.. Nooo. Maybe." Sanary can't help wanting to get shiny new weapons. They're new! And shiny! And... She keeps going. "It'll be fine. You two head to the Lord Bastardman, and I'll see if I can't get this quartermaster to turn over some... Uh. Tributes. For the King." Yes. That is totally what she was thinking about. Continuing along on her merry way, Sanary finds that even the hallway isn't putting her in the same sour modd that being in the elevator earlier had. She gets to move her feet this way, for one, and she's not crammed in with dozens of other people while she's at it. Upon reaching the quartermaster's room, the cage gets a curious look. Before she can ask about it, though, the uniformed man speaks, and she blinks her singular eye slowly as she just gets a rifle and boots. Rather than questioning him about the wisdom of arming someone with shitty depth perception with a firearm, she instead focuses on everything else he says. "Right. Er... History, eh? Glad to hear it." She puts on a villager's drawl as she speaks, sounding almost a little too natural at it for anyone else that might have followed her there. She even inspects the lasrifle, pointing it close to (but not directly at) her face while looking it over. "What /is/ the history we're gonna be makin', anyway? Who needs shootin'? And... Uh. What makes us any different from any other folks with a load o' these shooters?"
Gilgamesh	IMO DOLLI      Mister Julius rubs his chin at Bedivere. "You think so, huh?"      "We're mutants, mostly. Skum. 'swhy they have the name. Unwanted folk. Not welcome up there. The Emperor looks kindly on 'em, but no one else. I'm not, but they made me one of their own, so I feel responsibility to 'em. Last governor, he wasn't keen on having mutants walking about up there, so I'm a little leery of that proposition. Can you give me his word - in writing - that he'll protect them? If not, then no matter what you do for me, we're not gonna have a long conversation, you get my drift?"      Mister Julius snaps his fingers. "Iannus, go get the papers." A big shark-toothed man with fur on his hands walks out. Mister Julius leans back in his chair. "It's some kind of big bastard. I don't know /what/ it is, but it's big and ugly and it's immune to guns. It takes folk who go too far out, drags 'em off, and they're never seen again. Big, red hide. We think it's a mutant of some kind but if that's all it is I couldn't say. It doesn't sound like any shit we saw in the Eye." He makes the Sign of the Emperor in front of him at the mention of it. "I've never seen it myself but we've got some drawings. It's the best you're gonna get down here, Miss Essex."      Mr. Julius gives Solomon a broad grin. "Yeah, you're damn right we're the winning team. I'm glad you can see reason. Tell the rest of your spies the same."      He waves a hand at himself. "Like I said, we watch the elevator."
Raziel	Raziel pauses, it appears the others had arrived before he could completely manifest, so he stopped and waited.  He simply watches as the conversation goes on.  From his observation, the man seems to be a loyalist...which might only make this a more difficult situation. The faithful always seemed to have a touch of reverent behaviors that he found distasteful, however, right now he would take his measure of this man, and decide of execution was still the right means.   It would, at least, provide the information he could properly act on.
Kirito	Kirito is very well-aware that he's not exactly a very intimidating-looking young man. With his soft-featured face, well, at a distance one might mistake the FACE for a girl's at times. He's never really developed any obvious masculine traits...     That might be one of the reasons he's kept the black longcoat, and continues to stick with it instead of going to the Quartermaster for any gear. Nah, with Sarracenia, he goes straight for the Lord-Commander's office, arriving with his hands in his black longcoat's pockets and sword still sheathed.     But ah, the Lord-Commander. Kirito glances about the office, sees the man's clearly decorated... and briefly frowns. If he knew about half of the local military's insignias these things might mean more than 'guy definitely did some badass stuff at some point.'     Kirito's confident that should be enough to work with, though.     Which is why he takes a step forward. "Thanks, but I've gotta come out to you straight. We're not exactly new recruits, and as trying to get a planned appointment with you when we're on a tight schedule didn't go well we had to muscle our way in. Don't worry - nobody's been hurt." Thankfully, by now, his anger has cleared up - it seems that the conscript thing really IS legitimate... in a sense.     "My name's Kirito, and I'm not from this Galaxy." SLowly his voice warms, trying to be a hint friendly, but he glances around for anywhere he might be able to take a seat...     "So. You guys obviously know the planet's under new management now. The new governor - whether you accept him as legitimate or not, I don't really care - is bulldozing huge chunks of land to the ground and rebuilding something new. And he sent all of us down here to sort out this mess and keep the Everyone-Doing-As-They-Please thing from getting in his way. Lemme be clear about this. You guys have a TON of options and we wanna help guide the undercity towards making ones that DON'T result in King Gilgamesh setting everything on fire for getting in his way. Are you appraised of what's happening topside, Lord-Commander? Because when it makes its way down here, you're not gonna have time to worry about mutants and heretics."     Of course, he's fully aware this approach is a lot to take in, but his heavy gaze shows just how seriously he means this.
Bedivere	Bedivere smiles. "This sash and my status confer that we have unilateral authority to resolve the problem as we see fit. Frankly, I find mistreating people for matters beyond their control a disgrace, and would gladly agree to that protection. All you and your mutant kind would need do is do your best to integrate with the king's plans, and he and his whole apparatus will ensure you are protected by it. It's the old way of civilization, a chain of hands clasped in mutual aid. I can write it up for you right now, frankly, and even send it up for the King's signature in due time."     But the matter of the Tunnel crawler draws interest as well. "A giant in need of slaying? A classic. I once borrowed a man's spear to finish one off, but perhaps that isn't all there is to it. . ." He nods, self-assured. "Regardless, the matter will be settled, of that you can be sure."
Staren	...Aaaand the techpriestess attempts to lead a rebellion against Gilgamesh. Staren sighs. "You really don't get it, do you?" he points at Phobos. "YOU ran away last time people showed up, so don't pretend like you can fight us all off now." Then he looks to the other cultist. "I can turn people into robots without taking their wills, if it's really such a big deal for you. More importantly -- By working together, you can prosper together with the rest of this planet. If you have no interest in helping others, know at least that cooperation comes with new technology from outside the Imperium and, as long as the factory does its job, you can spend your offtime persuing the advance of science and technology and knowledge as you wish, rather than having to focus on defending against increasingly large and powerful hit squads sent by King Gilgamesh to reclaim this factory."
Sarracenia	Sarracenia actually smiles a bit when one of the guards apologizes earnestly. Of course, her smile is mostly hidden by her rebreather. "You are forgiven. It does seem as though we have both misunderstood the situation. Trying to contain the madness down here must be quite difficult."      The commander has lots of money? How did he manage that down here? As they head down the stairs Sarracenia also smiles to Kirito. She starts to take his arm again, then blinks as she remembers something and just puts that arm down on her purse. "I am glad we did not have to attack them." she says, just as idle conversation as they walk.      When they reache the Lord-Commander, it is not what Sarracenia was expecting. A nice office in stark contrast to the rest of the area and even this building. An actual military man. And one with manners to boot. She lowers her hammer from her shoulder to the floor, resting the head on the floor with a bit of a resounding thud. "Greetings, Lord-Commander. I am Princess Sarracenia Sundew, Crown Princess of the Sundew Kingdom and emissary for King Gilgamesh in this instance. We are not here to be recruited. Instead, we are hoping to recruit you. The new ruler of Narsine has empowered us to bring this mostly lawless area under proper control. Whether we have to 'get rid' of the mutants and tech-priests depends entirely on if they fall in line or not. And I am afraid that also applies to you. The God-Emperor has lost his hold on this world. Your loyalty is admirable, but if you wish to continue serving him you should probably find another world. On the other hand, if you accept King Gilgamesh's rule, I have no doubt he will be impressed by your attempts to improve this dreadful place and perhaps even route resources to you and the First Narsine."      She pauses here, considering things for a moment. "...but, it is as Kirito says. If you refuse to join him or leave the area, it is very likely that King Gilgamesh will destroy you if and when he visits this place. He...is rather strict."
Kotone Yamakawa	Kotone Yamakawa is quite disturbed by some of what she hears as she looks to the new master of the cult here. She does not back down not yet as she now finds herself with weapons turned upon her. "The King of Heroes now has this world and is rebuilding it. So long as you are part of the solution and not a problem." She narrows her eyes a bit at the strange tech-priest. She now sure how much of a fight she could handle right now, and she also needs to know just what her response to that is. She'll look to Staren for a moment then back to the Priest. She recalls the talk Paladin's side about the incident that Staren speaks of and a light bulb goes on to her. "My world also possesses the ability to do much the same thing, I'm an example of such a conversion." She notes tiling her head. "Aid the rebuilding of the world and you will able to reap the rewards of better access to new of world technology. Or it can be done the hard way, the choice is yours. Reap the rewards or do this the hard way, it is your choice."
S6	"Mm..." S6 nods once when Julius explains more about the Tunnel Trawler. Her Pod clicks a few times, storing the audio and transcribing it to text for easier studying later. It clicks again, and she speaks, "Images will be helpful. As will locational data-- where it has been sighted, especially recently. This will also be useful."     "Just present the images to my Pod. It will record them."     -IMAGE CAPTURE READY.-     Bedivere mentions a spear, and S6 lifts a hand to her chin, "...If it is truly large, I shall need to equip myself appropriately. The Knight's recommendation of a spear is sound. My current armaments will likely suffice, but are not the most effecient choice for a large bipedal enemy."
Gilgamesh	IMO DOLLI      Mister Julius gives Bedivere a long look. He's clearly trying to discern if this man in armor, this strange man who rode in on a mutant beast, is trustworthy or not. Old ways of civilization are something he has no context for; for twenty thousand years the galaxy has been shaped like this. But he understands mutual protection.      "Alright," he says, "Write me up something and send it up to your King and when it gets back down to me and you've killed the Trawler, we'll talk. Savvy?"      Iannus returns with the drawings. They're all different, though all of them do agree on a few details - it's /very big/, it's /scaled/, it's got /very big claws and tusks/, it has a stinger, it has horns. One of them thinks it has wings, another thinks it breathes smoke, but they're all basically agreeing on the important details.      "You're gonna walk up to it with a *stick*?" Mister Julius asks, looking between Bedivere and S6. "...who the fuck *are* you people?"
Mortimer Balman	In the middle of the Lord-Commander's desk, there is suddenly a very big knife, embedded nearly two inches into it. Most people know what that knife is, it's an Astartes-style combat knife. Fenrisian-pattern. For an average human, it would be a short sword. People don't carry those. Normal people, anyway. "What guides your faith in the Emperor.. 'Lord-Commander'? Ugh, I can't even keep up that nonsensical title." The hunched figure un-hunches a bit. Still keeping the elongated snout hidden from view, which is not easy, he's almost even height with the man now. "...I am not impressed by what I see. Time is being wasted and there is none to waste, 'Commander.' Answer this question and answer it swiftly: why do you get to live? The others may not recognize the signs, but I am not impressed by fancy words and prettied up clothes. The Commissar's cap is a nice touch, but out of place."      There's another exhale from the old hooded man, the room fills with that sickly sweet death smell of his breath. It's unpleasant and memorable and who exactly IS this strange old man who moves so damned fast that he's already wrenched the knife out of the table? The figure is waiting expectantly for an answer.
Solomon Lau	"We're the Paladins. Personally, I was going to bring a rocket launcher and the heaviest duty rifle my employers could provide me, as well as a pair of pistols." Solomon says, wryly. "Not much of a spear guy, personally." Solomon looks over the drawings. Stinger, scales, claws, tusks, horns. "Grip points." Solomon touches the horns and tusks on one of the drawings as he speaks to his two allies. "Yeah, we've got this once we can pierce the hide."
Gilgamesh	FIRST NARSINE BASE      Sanary looks down the barrel of a laser gun. The quartermaster just sighs. "Flip it around," he says, "Then pull the trigger. Not in here. Just point it away from your face and shoot, you'll hit something eventually."      "What do you mean, what makes us different? We're First Narsine. We're protecting the people down here from the mutant drug-pushers and the cultist brainwashers. We're legitimate, you know. The Lord-Commander, he's from Cadia. He fought on the Eye of Terror. Fought right alongside great men for all his life. We're lucky to have him."      Kirito says he's not from this Galaxy. The Lord-Commander fixes him with an intense gaze. "Xenos?" he asks, in the same tone one might say /monster/. But when Kirito continues talking, the Lord-Commander just relaxes a bit. "So you're here on behalf of the new governor and nothing more? My watch did say a PDF force came down here. I didn't realize you were with them."      Sarracenia introduces herself. The man stands up and offers a hand. "Lord-Commander Edmund Winchester. A pleasure...Princess? I've never heard the title before, but I'm sure I should be honored, if you represent the new governor. The old governor never took any sort of attention to-"      /The God-Emperor has lost his hold on this world/.      The man's eyes narrow.      "The Emperor protects," he repeats, firmly, "His hold is not lost on this world. His hold cannot be lost. His hold is-"      Resources.      He stops.      He sits back down, his fingers slightly trembling. "So if I join this new governor, this...what was it? King Gilgamesh? Odd name. Not Gothic. Is he also xenos? - no. No, I don't...I can't afford not to listen to something like that."      "Our guns are run-down and we need more men. We won't be able to cleanly take down the Skum or the Chaplain's Contingent like this. The Skum run drugs and slaves down here. The Chaplain's a blasted cult, offering people help if they swear allegiance to him. I hate the idea of that." His fist clenches. "There's only one god, and it's the Emperor. The Emperor Protects regardless of who you are. That's-"      THUMP. The knife comes down in the middle of the desk. The knife's very big, which draws a look from the Lord-Commander, before he looks back at Mortimer.      "I don't care what you're impressed by, xenos," he says, sneering. But when Mortimer mentions the Commissar's cap, he frowns and looks down, then sits down. "I'm not a Commissar, true, but everything else is real. Except the rank. It..."      He wavers a moment. "It belonged to my unit's Commissar on Cadia."      He says nothing more, just looking down at the desk.      After a moment, he says, "I get to live because I'm the last, best hope for this mad mud-pit of disease and despair. Have you *seen* this place? Have you looked outside? I have the Guard's ways on my side. I can bring it order. I can *fix* it for the Emperor. I can give these people hope, a job, three squares a day. Why shouldn't I call myself a Lord-Commander? It's a mythology, xenos; it makes people respect you. Listen to you. Why do I get to live? Because I have a heavily-armed squad of soldiers right downstairs and if my heart stops beating a signal will be sent from the augs in my arm to the men downstairs to come up and kill every single person in this base not wearing a uniform."      The Lord-Commander relaxes. "You think you get to barge in here and order me around? I've been working for this place for a decade. A /decade/, Emperor damn your eyes! Now if this new governor wants to send me the resources and manpower to make a damned difference, I might be willing to listen, but if you just want to walk in here and kill me then I'll be damned if I'm going to be treated that way after my years of service!"
S6	"I will need to be in visual range to identify weakpoints," S6 states evenly. However, her Pod is already analyizing the images provided.     -SUSPECTED WEAK POINTS IDENTIFIED.-     -ON-SITE SCAN REQUIRED FOR CONFIRMATION.-     The android nods once. Her head turns towards Julius when Solomon answers the question in a rather matter-of-fact fashion. She comes from a different angle, "It is more than simply 'a stick'. It is a finely tuned Magitech device designed for precisely this form of opponent." As for his next question, she simply repeats: "I am S6. Are you experiencing memory errors?"
Raziel	Raziel finally sees the truth behind the words of the 'Lord Commander'.  He says something over the radio and moves just right behind the man. His own size and talking easily drowns out the sounds of Raziel materializing himself.  Forcing himself through the spectral realm and into the real realm. On his hand, the Reaver blade comes to life, extending out from his hand like a blade, etherial.  A single step is made, as the blade comes upwards towards the back of the 'Lord Commander'. 'In stressful times, the truth that is often hidden behind the mask of society is often made bare for all to see.  This time was no exception, it was likely he would use the King's resources to try and make a rebellion, only hindering our efforts on this world.  A zealot is always a danger if left alone.  Let us hope the men beneath him are more reasonable.' The soul-devouring weapon would stick out the front of the man if he struck true.  Raziel does not speak, he does not taunt the man, he simply does what he feels is right to maintain the order Gilgamesh was setting up here.
Phobos	"I had nothing to gain by fighting you," Phobos corrects. "Now I do. This property is way more valuable than the trash I left behind back there."     Click. Whirr. "Kind of."     She considers, though.     "New technologies, though? And what do WE have to do? How tightly does this KING bind us?"     Phobos' heavy foot taps on the ground, impatiently. "Be thorough. I want the exact terms you're thinking of. And don't waste my time."     "And you'll need more than magical robot-resurrection tech to convince me. As -tempting- as that is," she looks at Kotone, curious. "I might be convinced if I can take a look at -you-, though. Hands-on, no restrictions. No killing you, of course. No ALTERING you. I'm not a barbarian. Just studying."
Mortimer Balman	Mort's illusioned, gaunt-looking hand gently pats the Commander's shoulder. "A xenos, carrying an an Astartes weapon? Instead of some silly ray-knife that runs on the tears of orphaned children? Don't be absurd. Mutant will suffice. Approved, obviously, or I would not be here, and certainly not bearing such a blade. Yes.. It's all very bad down here. It was bad before you, it may well be bad after you as well. But.." A near-skeletal finger lifts into the air. "You *care*, Commander. And that is enough to-"      And then Mortimer's eyes flare, bright blood red, seeing Raziel pull that shit and kill someone that old Mort had HOPED could be a useful pawn in the future. DOES THIS ASSHOLE NOT KNOW HOW HARD IT IS TO COME ACROSS USEFUL PAWNS WHEN YOU AREN'T MYTHICAL?! There's a furious hiss as Mortimer leaps at Raziel, grasping for the wraith's throat so he can choke the unlife out of him. "Wretch! Bastard! He was more useful alive!"
Bedivere	Bedivere nods in confirmation of Solomon's description. "That's right. And for the time being we are the king's agents. I'll draw up the draft and sign it for temporary value, and then have it sent up for proper wording and the final signature. Then we'll speak next after the Trawler is resolved, for better or worse." The matter of what and how they'll write it is a trivial problem, and Bedivere shan't be shopping for weapons. One third of the powder keg was resolved. For Now.
Sanary Rondel	Sanary does as instructed, flipping the rifle over and holding it away for a moment just in case it falls apart from that alone. "Eventually? Just how busted is this thing?" She doesn't wait for a response, instead taking a seat right on the quartermaster's table to level a skeptical gaze at him. The country drawl fades to an extent as well, although her tone shifts distinctly into one that's more chiding than anything else. "Okay. Look. I wouldn't be caught dead being one of the recruits for your First Narsine 'cause the whole... All of this?" She holds up the lasrifle, then sets it on the table before crossing her arms over her chest. "Where's your recruitment standards? An army's supposed to have training. Gear that isn't utter crap. I've /been/ in real and fake ones before, and this doesn't even come close to the worst." Another sigh. Sanary might have a breathing problem from the awful elevators. "I'm sure your Lord Commander was great back in the day, but this ain't gonna do any of that any justice. The new King sent me here to clean up the place, but this is just... Sad. Do you really think you're relive the glory days like this?"
Sarracenia	Sarracenia frowns lightly at the Lord-Commander's stubborness. "No, you are -a- hope for this world. The last best hope is-"      And then there is a sword through the Lord-Commander. Sarracenia is so surprise she actually flinches and jumps back a bit, then her eyes widen. "Wh-what...?! What did you do?! He was on the verge of accepting!" she practically screams at Raziel.      She reaches into her purse quickly and pulls out some very large green mushrooms with white spots and big cute black eyes, then she runs to the Lord-Commander and presses them against the sword wound. They disappear in a shower of sparkles which saturate the officer and attempt to close that wound up.
Staren	Staren considers. "I could get you a mechanical body to study, if you like. Civilian-grade, for now."     "As for what the king asks of you... Mainly not to rebel and make his work fixing Narsine harder than it already is. Don't make it any harder to bring the rest of the Undercity in line. It'd be nice if you could provide whatever this factory used to make for the Imperium, but..." Staren shrugs. "I guess as long as you're not making things /worse/, he doesn't really care what, specifically, this factory does."
Kotone Yamakawa	Okay things have not devolved into a fight just yet, so maybe there's some help here and it is better to keep an eye on Phobos after all. Given if she's who Staren implied they are? Better to keep them close then to let them run wild she thinks for a moment. Kotone seems quite concerned. She takes a deep breath. "I would be willing to accept those terms if your willing to play ball with the reconstruction." She doesn't like it, that much is clear but she has a job to do. She's going to damn well do what Gilgamesh hired her for right? "So I am willing to do this."
Kirito	Kirito seriously frowns at Sarracenia's explicit attack on the man's faith in his God-Emperor. This is not at all how he'd phrase ANYTHING and so his visible flinch is pretty dire. "Is he xenos..." Kirito echoes. "That's a little complicated. If you apply that word to anything that isn't human? Or from this galaxy particularly...? It doesn't really matter at the moment because unless the Emperor himself shows up here and casts him off that ziggurat, he's calling the shots. But the Princess is right. If you were to get with his program, you WOULD be getting resources. He IS trying to bring some order to this place. And hope. And you're gonna have to consider the possibility that maybe the God-Emperor would rather not throw him off the ziggurat if he's doing a good job. There's wars to be won here and a lot of bureaucrats NOT getting important stuff done! ... if that wasn't the case, you wouldn't be struggling down here in the dark and the filth. Sorry to say, the God-Emperor protects, but a plague's your worst nightmare down here, not xenos and culti----"     THUMP.     Kirito freezes instantly, hand going up to his sword and body tensing. He sees the knife's pattern though... and hears that voice. He frowns even MORE and looks over his shoulder. 'You know something I don't?' Is written all over Kirito's face...     And then RAZIEL. Kirito HISSES through his teeth. "What the hell...?!?!" Is there some kind of GHOST ASSASSIN? Having never seen Raziel in action before, he's pretty freaked out. And pissed. Because he slowly recognizes him as on the same mission... "Are we even working for the same goal...?!"     He.... isn't too terribly attached to this Lord-Commander... "... And if he's right, you just sicced the whole base on us without warning...!"
Gilgamesh	THE BASE:      Sanary gets a look from the Quartermaster. He sighs and taps his finger on the desk. "Look. I served with the Cadian Third, just like the Lord-Commander. I know this is all bullshit. We haven't got a Tech-Priest to fix anything. But hope, and brotherhood, and belonging? Hell. It kept Cadia alive. It gave men something to fight for and a dream to die for. A lot of them did. Me, I didn't have the good sense to. The Lord-Commander, he..."      He shakes his head. "Not my place."      "Anyway. It gives people a job, three squares, something to /do/ instead of be idle and curse their lot in life. And even a shitty gun can still kill a man down here. Nobody's got armor or anything. Numbers is enough. We just...we just need more numbers."      Raziel's blade goes in. Sarracenia, frantically, runs forward, applying her strange healing magic as Mortimer goes over the table, knocking the body (and the mushroom) on the floor. It's a simple patch, but then, it's a simple wound - just a stab through the chest cavity. Hell, men can survive that no problem. Right? That's fine. That's no problem.      There's a still, quiet moment.      And then the Lord Commander sucks in a sharp breath, opens his eyes, sits up, and pulls a pistol on Raziel, firing twice into the wall. It's an old-fashioned slugthrower, nothing more, but his instincts are *remarkable*. He's definitely Cadian. Only a Cadian could go from dead to shooting in no time flat, taking refuge behind his desk.      "You get that thing out of here!" He shouts, "That fucking daemon! You get rid of that and I'll do whatever you want! Emperor's eyes, I never want to see a fucking daemon again in my life!"
Phobos	Phobos considers.     She looks at the Chaplain.     They exchange... not words, exactly. Noises. Machine noises. Clicks and whirrs and noises that are clearly meant to be... maybe less a secret language and more a very specific-purpose language. It takes a minute or two.     Then Phobos, ever unnaturally, snaps back to Staren and Kotone. "Fine. That's acceptable. We'll provide weapons and equipment to the inhabitants of the city. We won't /oppose/ the new king. However, we retain freedom to handle the criminal elements of the city on our own terms. How we see fit. And the bodies are ours. In exchange, I'll study this beautiful specimen of a machine and one of your 'civilian bodies'. We'll renegotiate further terms if the situation develops."     Her mechanical limbs rattle a bit.     "How's that?"
Staren	Staren considers that. "I can't promise you exclusive domain over the criminal element in perpetuity no matter what -- But if you get it under control I see no reason for interference from the King to be necessary. He doesn't have time to care what you do with criminals. If you don't get it under control, then sooner or later another group like us is gonna show up to deal with it." If they find that acceptable, Staren nods, although he's nervous about what will happen to Kotone, and will stay to supervise that. Later, he will have a civilian-grade synthetic body sent down, like what he offers to those resurrected without the synthflesh covering.
Raziel	Raziel flicks the blade once, throwing the blood to the ground as the deed was finished.  Mortimer leaps over the desk at him, giving Raziel enough time to leap back with unnatural grace and lower the blade in a fighting stance.  He was not looking to fight... However, the gunshots from the 'Lord Commander' cause his blade to come up to deflect the shots with the blade.  His eyes narrow for a moment, open a bit wider, and then narrow again.  His eyes trace towards the Princess. He then releases his material body, fading once more to the immaterial and slipping through the wall to leave.  Well, this sure was a turn of events...however, at the end of the day, it's whatever works.
Mortimer Balman	The thing that stabbed the Lord Commander gets away just before Mort's hands can grasp at it. "DAMN YOU! NOT WITHOUT INCIDENT!" And he tears out of the room. Intangibility. It's dead, it's a ghost. It can go anywhere. But he's seen what it looks like. And he won't let it get away.. Not without incident. The 'daemon' will be found and this shit will not go unanswered. Not when he has work to be done!
Sarracenia	"It worked!" Sarracenia exclaims delightedly. Then has to hit the dirt as the man who was pretty much dead a moment ago starts shooting. "He isn't a daemon! A-at least, not of this universe!" she explains in a bit of a panicked tone. When Raziel is gone, she gets up again before letting out a sigh of relief. "Now...if you are agreeing to serve King Gilgamesh, you will need to start altering your uniforms to display his insignia. And it might not be a bad idea to put together something of a tribute. Whatever you have that is the best of what you have, along with a pledge of your allegience and an apology for being ignorant of his authority."
Sanary Rondel	"... 'least you're honest about it." Sanary shrugs lightly as she steps back onto her feet, pacing around back and forth in front of the table while listening to the quartermaster. She doesn't quite understand what he's saying completely, but she can at least understand the general thrust of what he's saying. Give them purpose, quantity over quality, regardless of how many die. The healer takes a deep, long breath as she relays information to her allies on the radio, hearing of what they're working on and the progress they're making. Or not making. Either or. Eventually, however, she turns back to the quartermaster once she starts putting everything together. Sanary is smiling. It's not a pleasant smile. It's more of a slasher smile, and she plants both hands on the desk as she stares right at the quartermaster. "I used to know nobles like that back home. You know. Before they bit their tongues off to get away from me. So! Here's what's gonna happen." She points towards the exit. "I'm gonna go talk to my guys with the PDF. You're gonna start flying the new King's banner and get these people sorted with some proper gear. Otherwise..." She raises her hand, and a green light cloud starts to waft out from it. "Healer. I'm good at making sure people don't die even if they want to." She lets that vague threat linger while heading towards the exit, not even bothering to look at the quartermaster any longer.
Kirito	Everything goes straight to hell in a handbasket here. Kirito rapidly attempts to coordinate over the radio, but here... here there's a desperately hurt man - healed or not - and being MURDERED IN COLD BLOOD, nonetheless.     The Black Swordsman draws his blades. "Sarracenia. No matter what, keep that guy alive. I'll handle this."     His gaze fixes on Raziel and he takes a step forward into a combat stance. There's very little actual hostility radiating from him - this might be just for show. "... You heard the guy. It's time to scram. The easy way or the hard way."     He's... hoping Raziel will catch on. Kirito ducks down and then -- ... and Raziel just kinda Ghosts away. He blinks. Ducks out for the corridors. Damn, how is he supposed to know that guy's really gone?     This entire situation's just too hectic. He ducks back into the room and exclaims, "All you've gotta do is get outta King Gilgamesh's way. It's not hard. I'm not carrying out anyone's crusades though. You can get off this planet. You can sign up with the King's program. Or you can stay here and that THING might swing by again..."
Gilgamesh	FIRST NARSINE BASE      Raziel flees, leaving Mortimer grasping at straws. The Lord-Commander gets up from his desk and dusts himself (and his hat) off, then looks at Sarracenia, Mortimer, and Kirito. "Alright. That convinces me. If there's daemons afoot, I need better soldiers. This King might be a xenos, but bigger problems abound right now than that. I can worry about him later." He holds out a hand. "For now, you've got a deal."      Sanary gives the man a grin. He holds up his hands. "I'm not really in charge here...but, honestly? If you can get us better gear, the Lord-Commander will probably agree. And he'll listen to me. So...sure, alright. For what it's worth I'll support your argument when he comes to ask me."