Commissar Farzi
New member
- Joined
- Nov 4, 2021
- Messages
- 19
- Reaction score
- 5
Morris sighed as he took a swig from the tankard; the mission to bring down Euis, or Fusi or whatever the fuck he was called had been, at least to command a success. Even with the near thing involving the Royals and him suiciding; he personally has been hoping to get a hold of the bastard. The Ale went down smooth. Versian Stout - a not-unwelcome surprise after all these years. It had a nutty flavor with a peppery aftertaste. Back in the Crimson Abyss, or the Scarlet Maze as the NDC called it, a stock of the stuff had been found and some of it shipped to the Station. Unfortunately, it was all they had, as the planet had been glassed-and therefore the stuff was at a premium as no one could make it anymore. At least until someone found a way to do so...
Though with the marks he’d gotten from the mission...he grimaced as it leant a certain bitterness to the taste of his drink-most of that combat bonus was supposed to go to his squadmates and the others-and of course those had a family had their share of the payout sent to them-no doubt ensuring they’d be well off for a while-for those who didn’t it’d been added to his own and the pilots’ bonus. He felt guilty spending it, but quickly quashed it down; wallowing in guilt was not their way-they were dead, gone and honored. The funerals had gone as well as you could expect-those with enough to send home were, and those who didn’t were sent home as ashes in an urn.
With a sigh, he cracked his neck-the crick had come back again-more annoying than ever. Ordering another tankard after quaffing the rest down. He’d sent a transmission to the ‘kidnappers’, inviting them to the cantina and offering a few drinks to hopefully smooth things over with them-after jumping through a few hoops to get the permission to do so. It’d been a few months since he’d last seen them, and hopefully they were at least in a semi decent mood-that and he wanted to let the genemod know the fucker was dead.
-----
Asteri scowled as she yanked out a brush from her satchel. She had long since gotten into a habit of bringing her brush around now that she was traveling with Gale and Heinrich. But she was irritated. Very irritated. This Iron Company had demanded that they pat her down after they found her cybernetics. It wasn’t her fault that she had a syringe injector at the base of her neck! But what was most irking was that they had messed up her tails! Asteri huffed as she began trying to brush out any potential burrs in her tails.
It had taken every ounce of willpower not to snap at the idiot who had so roughly treated her tail. Didn’t he know it was rude to mess up something so beautiful as what she had? She huffed to Heinrich and Gale: “So, why are we here again?”
Gale shrugged. "Apparently the guy who had led the team that nearly shot us in the hangar when we were leaving invited us to drink with him. As an apology I guess?" Gale said. If Asteri thought she'd had it bad, well, Gale was sure the Iron Company were busy revising their combat plans for dealing with Vaigarin.
When they had gone through the security checkpoint, they'd been asked to declare and secure all weapons they had. Gale had requested access to a hanger. When asked what she could be carrying that'd require it, she stated simply that she'd need the room.
After stripping and handing Heinrich her clothes and piercings, while other members of security were dealing with Asteri’s grumbling, she had shifted from her humanoid form into her full draconic glory. Standing at 5 meters in height at the shoulder while standing on all four paws, with her full length of about 30 meters from snoot to tail tip. Don't even ask about the wingspan. And then coughed up a pair of flintstones the size of a fist each. Then presented her claws and teeth. And tail. And wings. The guy doing the check was left with a pinched nose bridge and writing down a few things on his pad. After they were sure she wouldn't go on a rampage on the station, she'd returned to her usual human form and gotten dressed once more, and the only other thing that popped on her being checked had been her Geist implant. Which seemed to make the security team just that much happier since they had an easy part to track.
Heinrich had a much easier time compared to the other three, but was still processed like the others, having unholstered his pistol. Locking the slide back, and dropping the mag on the counter, it was the only thing he had outside of the two spare mags for it. Otherwise, it was the geist that was the only other item to be noted, as he was given a quick brisk before taking the sidearm back.
The prince wasn’t dressed formally today, simply not feeling it for the formalities, dressed much like he had been when they left last time. Jeans, t-shirt, hoodie, and converses just making an outfit for a usual day out. “They wanted to make up for the misunderstanding, which is very noble of them, and it is a courtesy to respect that. Live and forgive, then die and forget, is what my father always says.”, was Heinrich’s reply as he offered Asteri an apologetic smile.
Nora on the other hand, well, she was a lot louder of a security check. She carried no guns, having come in good faith, dressed rather casually herself. Though her attire was not the part that turned heads as she walked through a metal detector, the machine practically screamed in as much surprise as the operator felt.
On the display as she stepped into the x-ray next, was an image of a fully metal reinforced skeleton, with cybernetic enhancement to further reinforce it at the major joints and spine. “And before you ask, no, it doesn’t come out.”, was all the noble said, hands on her jeans covered hips as her flannel button up rustled, hanging open over a black t-shirt like she had just left a visit to a woodland cabin.
“I see,” The Yeoman replied, and with a sigh presented the four of them with the security badges with a picture and name on them while the soldiers spoke in a harsh, broken language that one could easily mistake for a form of eldritch spellcasting. Most likely grumbling about the NDC and their fancy high tech crap. “Alright, you’ve got a general access pass-yes that means for you two as well-” The yeoman nodded to Heinrich and Nora as he spoke in an accented voice “-means you have access to the Cantina, Commissary, Medical, and Hangar. Since this is your first time here, we’ll be assigning you a guide.”
As he handed them each a badge, he continued. “Do not lose these, as they’ll be what keeps you from getting thrown into a brig. Understand that any criminal activity will be dealt with harshly and to the fullest extent of Company Law.” He paused for a moment, and then walked back to the station, sitting in the swivel chair as he adjusted the midweight body armor given to most security personnel. “Enjoy your visit to Orion station.” Swiveling back around, the soldier began typing in a report for the recent...arrivals.
A man in the usual heavy armor that was issued to CQB troops gestured to them. “Foh-low.” His voice was thickly accented as he shifted the heavy bore shotgun that was standard to space personnel from one hand to another, turning and eager to get the task at hand done.
Asteri basically gave a blank stare as the man tramped off ahead. It was a look filled with Why do we make such bad decisions? She sighed, and just followed along, distractedly brushing her second tail as she followed along behind.
Nora followed closely behind Asteri, another brush in one hand, as she helped the fox girl brush her tail with a happy hum. It would be an odd sight to say the least, in this high security militant space station, as the two girls simply went along. Nora was more then happy to help, knowing how annoying it was just to brush normal hair as it was.
Heinrich just eyed the girls oddly, finding the display an odd sight indeed. “Right, please lead the way sir. I’m assuming our main destination is the cantina, and for one, am looking forward to a drink.”, he said, trying to sound as calm and casual as possible as the group followed. The crown prince was one for being casual, but he almost thought they were being too casual, but figured it was best just to go along with it.
Offering his best smile, Heinrich slipped his arm around Gale’s waist, happy to have this break from things. Much more so with lovers, family, and very good friends. After recent events, he hoped that the company and the NDC would only continue to hold a very good standing going forward in the future.
Gale smiled as she felt Heinrich's arm around her waist. "I swear, those two are almost like clutchmates." She said, gesturing to Nora and Asteri as the four of them followed the guard to the Cantina.
The guard nodded and led them through a corridor, and pausing long enough at another checkpoint for a yeoman to scan their security badges, nodded to a man in a booth behind several inches of bulletproof, shielded glass, and armor plating, to which he hit a button on a console. There was a loud buzzing noise followed by the heavy automated door sliding up opening up into a wide corridor. Scrawled in several different languages, including trade on a sign was the word “Commissary”, though apparently words Commissary and Bazaar were interchangeable to the mercenaries; a series of stalls and venues were aligned along the sides, forming several rows of them. The merchants were dressed in a wide variety of garb, ranging from loose fitting robes to more contemporary garb, shouting what were likely advertisements for their goods.The goods themselves were as varied as the merchants themselves-from strange fruits, bolts of cloth both coarse and fine, and even the hamming of a blacksmith as they passed his stall, a wide variety implements from war to tools. Patrons, be they the company soldiers, as well as women and children-most likely the families of those stationed long term aboard-moved around them, most paying little more than a passing glance to the bunch being led by an armored guard-whether it was a common sight or just simply they had better things to do with their time than watch a bunch of strangers.
As they walked past another stall-they saw a lean, bare chested man with a shaved head, red faced and clearly having had more than his share with way he swayed, covered in elaborate tattoos arguing with a woman who seemed to be selling sausages and various other meats-he was hold out a bit of one in a handkerchief. The trooper held up his hand and motioned for them to stay.
Approaching the pair, the yeoman said something, to which the woman responded. The man seemed even more furious after the yeoman examined the sausage, taking a whiff of it, and shook his head. The man began to argue, his posture becoming ever more aggressive as the yeoman sighed and responded as calmly as possible. This seemed to infuriate him further. Whatever had been said; the end result was obvious-a brief, vicious brawl had broken out-or what may have amounted to one had the man not been drunk-with the fight being ended with a swift buttstroke to the jaw from the yeoman’s gun. He was being half-led, half dragged as he spat several teeth out by two more guards, likely spitting out curses, with the woman looking incredibly smug, to which the yeoman said something that made her face instantly change to a look of concern. She nodded, and dropped a thick canvas over the front of her stall.
He gestured with a “Foh-low” as he cleaned the stock of his weapon. As they neared what seemed to be yet another guard post, the man stopped and asked something from one of the others, and he pointed left, and said something. Their guide nodded, and motioned again. They were led to a door with a sign of a half-naked woman with pointed ears that seemed to be dancing in the middle of a forest clearing. Entering, they were greeted with a sight that would be more akin to a Pub than a cantina-fine wood paneling with a variety of tables and booths, bathed in soft, warm lighting while the smell of cooking food and wood smoke hung in the air Patrons joked, ate, diced and drank. Some were alone and nursing whatever drink they’d had, while others were chatting, likely comparing scars or swapping stories, a few had a pretty girl in their lap, with severs going between them. “You meet here, I leave, enjoy.” The yeoman said, stepping between them as he went out the door.
“Oi, you four, over here!” A burly man in a booth waved them over, his accent wasn’t near as bad as some of the others, trade actually passible-his face was heavily scarred-burn marks across the left side of his face while three, puckered claw marks were across the left side across his eye.socket. His hair was the typical close-cropped style of most company troopers. Dressed in the typical uniform-though rarely seen outside of a base-a dark blue and grey button up jacket, though it was left open exposing a white T-shirt beneath, multi-pocket khaki pants of a similar color and boots with a leather covering along the front. His field cap was currently sitting on the table as he stood, his massive seven foot frame forcing him to duck under a light fixture. Walking over to them, tankard in his hand and placing his field cap on his head, Senior Yeoman Morris gestured around, his grey eye twinkling, though with drink or actual merriment one couldn’t tell. “Welcome to the Dancing Nymph,” He said as he led the four of them back to the booth, “The company is good, the drink is good, the food delicious, and-” He sat back in the booth, his voice dipping a tone lower “-the whores are clean.” He knocked back another swig of the stout he’d been drinking. “Have a seat, and we’ll see about getting some good ale in you.”
Gale smiled at the comment about the whores, having paid attention the whole way. "Why yes, I am, thank you very much." She said with a shit eating grin. "I do try quite hard to avoid such issues. It's bad for business."
“Oh-ho?” Morris tipped his tankard towards her in salute, “A wise practise-you must be popular with the lads, though if you're feeling so inclined you could likely find work here as well, though I don’t know how well that would go over with the other girls.” He took another pull and indicated the booth around him. “Still, crass humor aside, I believe we have come here to do more than flap our gobs-especially when there’s drinking to be done.”
Gale snorted as she settled into the chair across from Morris. "50 script'll get you a lay if you're so inclined. My Madame would bitch at the prices, but I get enough traffic that it more than makes up for it. Then there's the special occasions where the price is something akin to, oh, at least a thousand." She said, completely serious, but with a hint of mirth at the amusement of his not realizing that Gale really did sideline as a whore. Well, 'courtesan' if you want to get technical about it, but Gale was honest about what she did.
“I see,” Morris realized as a trio of girls turned and one of them hissed something as she pointed at the woman that perhaps she was actually being entirely serious, “Well I’m afraid here script won’t do much here-it’d be either Marks or hacksilver.” He motioned to one of the servers to come over “So, what’ll it be?”
“Preferably some form of whiskey, or rum if you have something comparable. Just to distract before the local ladies feel any more territorial.”, Heinrich said idly, hiding his annoyance at the exchange. He was not one to let such things bother him to the point of letting them cause him to act rash. Talking even passively ill of his favorite people, however, still rather chafed him emotionally.
“Wow, stuck your boot in mouth for that one bud. I just hope you keep them cleaner than your humor with a tactless attitude like that.”, Nora said bluntly yet still casual, not letting her status stop her from giving her own jab back. She gave a small giggle, “At least they can recognize legitimate clients. And not make an incident out of things.”
“Well then I suppose you should have no problem securing a warm body for the night.” He said something in the language followed by the woman nodding and walking away, “Though honestly I wouldn’t recommend it-while they’re plenty clean, they tend to bite harder than rats and only aim to get your purse.” Morris took another sip from his tankard as the woman came back with a pint of amber colored liquid in front of Heinrich. Morris nodded and pressed a pair of coins into her hand.
“Thankfully I don’t need to, my knight is the only body I currently need at night, and I don’t even need to pay him. Relationships tend to be kind of weird like that ya know.”, Nora added with another giggle, quite enjoying the back and forth rebuttals despite annoyances. “I’ll have the same as my cousin by the way, I can smell the strong content from here, which is perfect for my strong metabolism.”
Morris grinned. “Well if that’s the case…” He said something to the woman, who looked at Nora, followed by Morris nodding, “We’ve actually got something a little stronger than that if you're feeling brave enough.” The server came back with a lighter gold liquid in a shot glass along with a similar amber liquid in a pint mug to her cousin. “I’d start with the lighter stuff, then hit the rum. Trust me.” He actually leaned back slightly-mainly to avoid a flare up if the stuff ended up igniting spontaneously as the server set them down.
Asteri cocked her head at the bustling activity around them, looking this way and that; she studiously ignored the conversation about whores, and instead just focused on the various baubles and people surrounding them. Though, first. Drinks. Grabbing the attention of the server, she asked, “D’you have miodh- er.. Mead?”
Asteri, after scanning through the room, ears twitching this way and that in curiosity, turned back to the others, and smiled at them. “Whiskey? Rum? So, what, is this a tavern on the high seas now?” Asteri giggled. “I’m honestly surprised I haven't seen a dartboard with knives stuck to it yet.”
Morris chuckled at her comment as a loud THOCK could be heard behind them. He glanced over the edge of the back of the booth’s seat-a trio of men were gathered around a sturdy wooden target at the back of the room, with a good bit of space set apart, set against of trio of poles lashed together with strong hempen rope. A cheer went up as a well-worn throwing axe hit dead center, and one of the man-a short, stout fellow in leather breeches and bearing similar elaborate tattoos to the man in the bazaar who’d lost a few teeth grinned and gestured to a tall fellow in a company uniform. He turned around as another THOCK could be heard followed by more cheers.
“There’s yer answer lass.” He said, as he ordered the mead and placed more coins on the table. A wooden pint mug was set in front of Asteri a moment later. His concern however was the tattooed man. ‘Ancestor’s-Damned Eradani.’ He thought as he took another pull of his tankard, a dark look coming over his face, ‘What the hell are they doing on the Station?’
Galestrix glanced back, and smiled. "Seems to be going in good faith. At least so far." She mentioned. "Oh, and I'd take a barrel of rum, but I didn't see anywhere outside the hanger to fit to enjoy it properly. So a pint of it will do." She said.
“Right.” A similar mug to what was given to Heinrich was set in front of her a few moments later. Morris leaned back further into the booth bench as another hit on the target was heard, followed by cheers and grumbles as individuals won and lost wagers. ‘Just keep calm, he ain’t gonna start a fight...I hope.’ He cracked his neck. “So, how are you all liking your first visit to Orion Station?” He inquired, hoping to distract himself from the noise behind them.
“It has certainly been educational, and a bit of a flashback episode if I’m honest. I haven’t seen gatherings like this since the war. So many soldiers are just cutting loose on down time.” Heinrich said with a thoughtful reply, his attention not having missed the trio that Morris had looked at. He also hadn’t missed the brief change in expression either, and figured that they were ones to keep an eye on.
The prince had a question that was linked to the reaction, bringing his thoughts to what they had seen earlier of the man with similar tattoos in the market. “So with so many, and considering the culture of your group, do you have…. altercations often? I ask because of the slight disagreement one of your security had to deal with in the bazaar on the way here. I don’t suppose you have some more rowdier types among the ranks do you?”
“Oh?” Morris leaned forward and sighed, setting his tankard down. “Mind if I inquire as to who it was he had to deal with before I answer that-though if I’m right about who it was, it means security’s about to get a lot nastier than usual.”
“Beats the hell out of me, I don’t know any of your people other than you man.” Heinrich replied at first with a look of how would he fucking know, before adding to that. Taking a dreg from his mug, he thought of what they saw as the burn set in, “All I know is he had very similar markings on him to the guy you glanced at a moment ago. Something at a butcher shop, over the matter of what was presumably meat sold to him. Ended in him having less teeth then he started with as far as I can tell, but other then that, I know nothing without the understanding of your language to have understood what was said.”
Gale seemed to be completely unfazed as she chugged the drink. "Tingles a bit." She mused, putting the empty mug down. She was giving a small smile as she did, only now glancing behind her to see what was going.
Asteri had already turned to pay attention, sipping idly away at the mead as she watched the competition and listened in on the conversation, before she eventually piped up, “This seems like what Aodh told me; he visits a lot of different spaceports, and occasionally he visits the bars there. Granted, I think he somehow manages to get away with his vibroaere knife.” ...Which I can take a guess and say that he also manages to curve the knife into the center.
Aodh had always been a sly cheater.
But her thoughts turned away from family and towards more current matters as Morris became even more jaded than usual. “If I may…” She cleared her throat. “For one, he didn’t have any hair on his head. Bald as can be, and no facial hair, either.” She put a hand on her chin, thinking. “He had a couple of scars on him- he was bare-chested.” She flicked a tail, forestalling any reply Heinrich could come up with. “And no, he’s not my type, Belmes. Brutes-” At that, she looked at Morris. “-Sorry-” She looked back at Heinrich. “-Like that aren’t my type.” She sniffed. “Most often people who try to pull off that look are usually egotistical maniacs.”
She coughed again. “A-anyways. He had a couple of scars on him- There was a definite set of bullet scars located on his lower-left torso. Three separate instances, in a loose triangle shape. And then there was this rather nasty scar on his right arm- it looked like a stab, but then it turned into a sliding scrape, based off of the positioning. And finally, a scar on his hand- also from a cut.” At that, she shrugged. “Nothing else I could see. Those tattoos were even more obscure than Doire markings on a summer solstice night, back home.” Which, granted, they would be obscure to her, because they were of a completely different culture, but..
Morris glanced at Gale, and simply shrugged at Asteri’s comment, but paid little mind to either as he called out to a server. [“My friends and I would like to move to a quieter section of the bar-is a parlor available?”] He asked, to which she nodded. [“Yes, but you’ll have to buy a wee bit more than a few mugs.”] Morris nodded, and a few moments later pressed a handful of coins into her hand. [“We’ll more likely than not be needing food and more drink before the night is out.”] She nodded, and a few minutes later the four of them were seated in a small parlor, the severs having brought in a few pitchers and bottles of drink. Morris had taken the liberty of ordering them some food-a few exotic stews, breads of varying colors and textures, all steaming hot. Meats, cheeses, fruits, etc.. He himself had snagged a second tankard of the stout he’d been drinking.
“Alright, I figured this is a conversation best had out of earshot.” He said, taking a bowl of creamy white stew with chunks of various vegetables, meats and what seemed to be some kind of citrus fruit. Cutting a slice of a darker bread, and applying butter. “Alright, first things first-to answer your question Heinrich-we do have our fair share of problems much like any military organization.” He dipped his bread and took a bite, letting the texture of the softened bread and stew roll over his tongue as he chewed, “But I should also like to point out that we are not a monolithic entity-case in point the man downstairs.”
“He’s one of the members of the Eradani-bunch of technobarbarians the Grandmaster picked up a while back-those tattoos are usually indicative of what tribe they belong to-not to mention their achievements. So believe me when I say that-” He looked at Asteri, fixing her with a hard stare “-those scars and that build are likely earned through combat and a lifetime of hard lessons.” A pause as he took a pull from his tankard. “My advice-I don’t know what tribe he belongs to, but I’d steer well clear of them-security usually has to crackdown, and hard on these guys to keep 'em’ in line. Their good scavengers and better fighters-but given all the trouble they bring I don’t know why the Grandmaster thought it was a good idea to bring em with us, but-” He let out a sigh as he leaned back in his chair as it creaked under his massive frame “-they're here and for now we have to deal with them-hopefully they’ll be recalled soon.”
Gale wasn't too worried about what she'd seen, instead focusing instead on Morris and the rest present. As they moved from the booth to the private parlor, she relaxed a bit more. Sure, she didn't have a weapon on hand, but being that close to that many people who were not exactly immediately on their side gave her some room for concern over Heinrich's safety.
As it was, she opted to lounge against the wall, smiling. "In short, they're the kind of folks you keep around because they're useful, but would rather do without because of the troubles they bring with them. I can't say I'm immediately familiar with the sort, but the Tumnisians that hail from the old Lobah lands are a pretty militarized group, and tend to be the ones who form Vaigarin bodyguards." She mused aloud. "Capable, but often causing problems."
She nibbled on the slice of bread she'd grabbed before she'd taken her place. She figured Asteri, Heinrich, and Nora more deserved the seats. Especially since Gale, alas, took up a lot of room as it was. She couldn't make her wings and tail go away like a damned Quetzo who often could completely blend into whatever group they wanted. Cheap, long training bastards.
“Pretty sure every civilization has those of their own. For us, it would be the Onikari, a very old and originally war like race. They still have some aggressive tendencies, but they are culturally some of our best officers and warriors.” Heinrich chipped in on the sharing of each group’s resident competent beef sticks of people they knew. He actually chuckled a little, “We’ve actually had to develop mechanized power armor just to keep up with them, and police them if need be.”
The prince took another drag of his tankard, suffering the burn to enjoy the surprisingly rich flavor of his drink. He also took a plate of breads, meats, cheeses, and fruits as he figured he would start with the simplest of basic foods first. Just to avoid anything that may be too strong, or rich if the ale was anything to go off of.
“I don’t know if me not being surprised at the statement is a sign I should be worried about my the state of my sanity,” The yeoman, rolling his shoulders-he felt his joints creak and pop, “Or if it’s just a sign I’ve been in the Company too long.”
“Anyways, like I said, just steer clear of em’ especially when their in those deathtraps they call power armor,” He pointed to the vicious scars across his face, “got that trying to pull one of em out during a hunt that went bad-damn fool was trying to prove something and still wound up catching on fire when the engine in his suit went, and one of the critters we were dealing with thought I’d make a good meal when I was getting him out of it.”
“He not only managed to survive all that, but got at least three of ‘em before-” He cut himself short and shook his head. “Suffice it to say, we’re both alive, and he got treated like a hero and I got six months of extra duty for that stunt. Bastard.” Even three years later he was still sore about that-the fact that a Dragoon had to get involved before they got overrun had not gone over well.
“So, aside from that-yea, we’ve got some rowdier Company guys too, though they're usually smart enough to not to cause too much trouble, and chances are they’ll be toeing the line a lot more carefully than usual now.” Taking a moment to eat some of his stew, he continued “But that’s enough talk of that.”
“So...I suppose I should get to the other part of why I called you all here-you in particular.” He pointed to Asteri, “You’ll be pleased to know if you haven’t been informed yet that the bastard’s dead-suicided when we went to breach his safe room-took a few of our guys with him, but the important thing is he’s dead and gone. So Ancestor’s forbid that he had some trick of his sleeve, Fusil won’t be a problem anymore.”
He debated whether to broach the subject in regards to the tech-thralls, and decided to best leave it be-he might ask Nora when he got a moment and see if she knew anything.
Asteri was a bit cowed at the much larger man’s serious demeanor, especially regarding these Eradani folks; she couldn’t help it that her ears flattened against her head a bit! Unfortunately, she stayed quiet as the others began swapping stories about other troublesome peoples, and the measures that they took to ensure at the very least, an uneasy peace.
...Asteri felt a little put out, all in all. Andraeste was a relatively quiet place!
Nevermind that there were always the occasional giant cow- Aurochs, they were called- that went crazy and starting rampaging around the place, and that Asteri was called from time to time to put them down- or rather, Asteri was designated as the one who was to examine what exactly went wrong with the genes of said rampaging auroch.
She was interrupted by Morris’ statement about what happened to….
“Er, you mean Eius?” ...She didn’t know why, but she guessed she should expect that from this mercenary. She sighed internally. “But… suicide? That doesn’t sound like him at all. He normally would do anything to try not to die. Granted, there never have been ways that tested that, but from all of the various life-extensions and paranoia security measures he’s put in place…” At that, Asteri stopped for a moment, placing a finger on her chin. “-And yes, we knew about the security force. ...And the maids, somewhat? We didn’t know they were weaponized. ...We also didn’t know about the mecha. Or the safe room with the hallway of electrical zaps.” ...Point being, Eius had them all fooled. ...Well, except maybe Dad. “But, anyway. That seems very unlike him, to just… throw away all that work he did?”
Gale shrugged. "Not gonna say a lot on this subject myself. We're, meaning Vaigarin, aren't afraid of running if it seems like we're in a bad place. But we're not gonna go down without a fight. Just ask some of the Pack Roach herds back home. Not that they haven't managed to bring us down either. So it's a two-way road on that bit."
“Good, he got what was coming if that is all true. He went through a lot of trouble to piss me off, only right he get rewarded for such a milestone.”, came Nora’s pleased reply, having gone half way through her pint already. She was grinning quite proudly, “Too bad I didn’t get to pull his head from his body, but I make a note to not reach into the pants of dick heads.”
Heinrich only raised an eyebrow at that colorful boast, “I guess… that’s one way to put it. I just hope collateral was kept to a minimum around the estate. Also that any relevant intel had been gathered if salvageable from the rubble.” He continued to sip his rum, still enjoying the taste so far, though not really feeling it yet. Most likely do to the nanoes in his bloodstream increasing the efficiency of processing the alcohol, but it still has its limits. It would hit him eventually, he just needed to keep drinking is all. “Something tells me he’s the cliche scheming sort, like some terrible Jim Brund film. Even if he’s dead, I wouldn’t be surprised if he left something in place.”
The yeoman swallowed his ale and sputtered, nearly choking on it as he broke into a coughing-laughing fit. “That is definitely good advice, though there wasn’t much left of him after the bomb went off.” He shook his head as took a bite of stew. “And...we’ll go with the collateral at a minimum.” As for intel...he’d need to talk with one of the Nightmen for that.
Morris sighed at that comment about him leaving something in place-he’d planned to talk to Nora about it, but figured the prince would likely want to know as well-and likely wouldn’t end up with him in front of a firing squad given that they were likely cleared for it.
He hoped, and drank deeply from his tankard before speaking.
“About that...uh...we ran into a bunch of tech-thralls.” Another swallow of his ale. “Word’s unfortunately gotten out around the station about it, so people are getting a little jumpy-and the Eradani aren’t gonna help either, though it could be why they were sent.” He said, starting to regret telling them about it. “That means we’re probably going to be dealing with a bunch of Flesh-shapers in all likelihood.” He repressed a shudder, there were things that even they dreaded, and those monsters…
He’d sooner eat one of his own grenades than get taken by one of them.
Gale tilted her head. "Tech-thrall? What is that, like a mechanical person?" She asked, not immediately familiar with the term. She'd gotten the hang of robot, synthetic, even android and gynoid's. But 'tech-thrall' was a new one.
“That’s...that’s some bad business right there.” He looked towards Gale, a look that one couldn’t quite identify on his face, “As the NDC is more than aware, Cybernetics are useful tools, if a little hard on logistics. They can be used to help someone walk again, survive diseases that would otherwise be fatal and the like.”
”And then there are medical techniques that can remove deficiencies in one’s body, regrow limbs, etc,” His voice was steady and even, no doubt the stout he’d been drinking was helping, but it didn’t help the old memories, “Healing is an honorable and much valued profession, and then there are those who turn such trades to darker ends. Individuals who seek to twist and break and mold, creating abominations of Nature in the process. These are what we call Flesh-Shapers. The Tech-Thralls are one such result-they often snatch the dead from the battlefields for their experiments, hence another nickname they have-Corpse Snatchers..”
“More often than not, they use cybernetics to create lumbering abominations from rotting flesh and steel, mostly as means to inflict terror upon anyone unfortunate enough to happen upon them. But then,” Another sip, followed by a sigh, “But then their victims aren’t always dead-sometimes they use their legions to bring them fresh....materials-twisting genetic material and augmenting with machinery. And the worst part is? Their victims are far too aware of it...inhibitor chips placed into the back of their neck that force them to do their bidding, going slowly mad in the process...with no way out but death.”
His voice cracked at that statement, but he pressed on. “Thankfully the technology to do that, especially the inhibitors is fairly rare,” Morris let out a weak chuckle, and continued, “So more often than not they make due with second hand equipment and whatever they can scavenge to make the cybernetics-and you can be damn sure that everyone, even the civilians monitor for that kind of activity.” His expression changed-something dark came on his face, “And it’ll be a toss up as to who gets to them first-us or the people living wherever they decided to practice their trade on.” His voice was sharp, and for a moment a cloud of anger seemed to gather around him, then as if though remembering where he was, he relaxed and the anger evaporated
“While that’s the basic explanation, you can understand why a lot of people would be a bit nervous about it.” He exhaled and once again leaned back. “Err, perhaps this wasn’t the best time to bring it up…” He trailed off, deciding to focus a little more on his stew-preferably while it was still warm. “Sorry.” The yeoman finished lamely.
“Well I don’t know about any inhibitors, such practices in some form or another, are far from new in concept. The reviving the dead part is definitely a new extreme for sure. Though I hope you aren’t lumping anyone with full cybernetics as abominations?” Nora was calm, though kinda bored, only finding mild interest in such B horror flick ideas. The noble was also gauging his meaning behind his opinion, in an admittedly slightly prodding manner.
“I myself have gone under the knife for majority conversion, not really by choice, but by some scheme they thought would win the war. It’s the reason I said not even a 9mm would get past my skull, because it’s metal now, which your security saw.”
Heinrich was far less inclined to talk on the subject, for a few personal reasons, one being the memories of said war. He was far from fond of some of the extreme measures that were willingly engaged during the height of conflict. “I’d heard stories, and seen things…. But this sounds like some serious Frankenstein knock off bullshit.”, the prince grumbled, a bit sheepish at the image they had been offered.
“No Lady Nora, I’m not.” Morris retorted, perhaps a bit more sharply than he intended, “And I’m not sure what this ‘Frankenstein’ is, but these things are no joke, especially when it comes to the live ones-they often take the firepower of a full squad to bring down-or a mechanized cohort if you’re fortunate enough to have the support on hand.” He took a sip of his ale, “Of course, tech-thralls are usually the least of your problems if the Shapers have been settled in long enough.”
Asteri’s brow furrowed as she went deep into thought. “Besides; Andraeste really doesn’t sponsor anything relating to, well, extensive tech-modding that’s against a person’s will, or remove their own sense of… sentience? This also extends to the dead- Andraeste really looks down on anything that could be constituted as… ‘necromancy.’ Basically, what you’re describing , I don’t think any company would really do, as the last incident where we had a company attempt to ‘raise the dead,’ was met with… well, let’s just say Andraeste managed to dissolve them, despite the fact that they were based in Sirris.”
Asteri then continued on: “So, if anything, no company in their right mind would do this. I don’t think even Eius would do this; something like this is too great a risk for him and his… reputation. ...Then again, I could be wrong. Eius decided to kill himself when you invaded him. Clearly, he’s a bit more unhinged than what we originally thought.”
Asteri shook her head. “Anyways, I’m so sorry for what happened to the men under your command. What Eius did.. It went against everything dad had profiled about him…” Asteri remained quiet a moment after that statement, before she gave a strained smile at him. “So, enough about this! Did you manage to get any free time on Andraeste? I’d love to hear your opinion on our lovely little farmer’s paradise.”
“Don’t feel bad about it Asteri,” The old mercenary replied, polishing off what was left of his stew and setting the bowl in front of him, “Unfortunately these kinds of things are part and parcel of the job-not the first time some jackass pulled a stunt like this.”
“And I’m afraid I haven’t.” He took another pull from his tankard and realized it felt unusually light, “We don’t go off station unless we’re on the job or being sent back to the Abyss. Though from what I’ve seen during most missions, and no offense to any of you,” Morris said dryly, checking his drink and realizing that someone must have drilled a hole in the bottom, “But it looks like any other bread basket world I’ve seen-green and keeping bellies full. Can’t ask for much more than that.” He saluted Nora at that statement. “Looks like you’ve all done well for yourselves here-lot of folk would kill to have a chance to have a planet like this one.” And realized that may not have been the best choice of words, but he’d already stuck his foot in his mouth once today, and kept going. “Nicer than some of the other places I’ve been-and aside from the occasional scrap between nobles, no one’s shooting at you. So that’s always a plus.” He set the now sadly empty tankard down and examined one of the others. He smiled as he smelled the mead and poured himself a mug.
“That and the odd corp’ation,” He let loose a belch as he spoke, covering his mouth briefly and murmuring an apology before continuing, “Deciding they need to make things ‘better’ so to speak-but yeah, nice place as far as most planets go.”
Gale chuckled. "Honestly, to me, Andreste is so tame as to be quite relaxing. Even with the odd mishap going on. But I also know plenty of NDC folks have found Sirris II just too wild for them." She said, smiling. "To each their own I think. Though, I will admit, for me, I'd rather something between if I had a choice. Wild enough to keep it interesting, but tame enough to allow for plenty of calm spells."
There was just so much info dumping and conversation about economics, along with whatever else. Even Heinrich found it quite dry, and just glancing at Nora, told him that she felt the same about the situation. “I do the best with what I can, and as much as I would love to minimize corporate involvement. The economy has just become too entangled with them, in how they are essentially now a driving force in magic studies. That being said, I always have aid to call on if things were to tilt into bad.”, Nora replied before taking a deep drink of her alcohol.
Heinrich couldn’t fault that view, and he honestly didn’t want to add to it, for fear of only prolonging the lengthy conversation. It would have been nice to more casually chat with Morris, and less about the affairs of things, or some sort of culture topic to at least learn more of these people.
“I was referrin’ to the mutant cow from two months ago m’lady.” Morris responded, briefly kicking himself for not clarifying. “And, no, there's not much else to say about it.” He stated before anyone could ask. “Anyways…” He trailed off, gathering his thoughts for a moment, attempting to clear his head, and realized that more like than not, the unintentional itopic change had likely put a damper on things “Anyways, you mentioned something about being on the station being ‘light-shedding’ or something?”
Asteri glanced up at that, letting loose a confused 'Huh?' before her face brightened and she exclaimed, "Oh! You're talking about the Aurochs, not... Anyways.... Yeah, corporations can be weird sometimes." She shook her head, before querying with a confused twitch of her ears: “Light-shedding? What do you mean by that?”
“Henrich said something about the visit being light shedding-enlightening?” He replied, taking a bite of a thick piece of bread with beef and cheese, “Just curious what ya meant by that?”
Morris never did get his answer, as a sudden commotion downstairs interrupted them. “Well shit.” He stood as the woman came in, leaning in the doorway and saying something, leading the burly merc to sigh and nod as she came in with another of covered metal containers. “Alright, looks like we got to clear out.” As the server grabbed the food and deposited it in them, he held the door. “We’ll continue this conversation at a later date-I’ll have some of the food and booze sent with you.” Rapidly hurrying them despite being half drunk, he spotted at least a dozen security officers trying to break up a fight-it didn’t take much of a genius to figure out what had happened as he caught a glimpse of a tattooed arm crack one of the troopers across the jaw as the rest piled in.
A few minutes later they were at the security checkpoint, the four of them turning their badges in and saying their goodbyes, food and booze securely loaded aboard.
He was still kicking himself as they left. ‘Need to really work on my conversation skills.’ A missed opportunity on both sides.
Ah well-at least he still had a tankard of that stout he’d managed to snag, or at least did until he realized he’d forgotten it on board their vessel.
“Damn it.”
Though with the marks he’d gotten from the mission...he grimaced as it leant a certain bitterness to the taste of his drink-most of that combat bonus was supposed to go to his squadmates and the others-and of course those had a family had their share of the payout sent to them-no doubt ensuring they’d be well off for a while-for those who didn’t it’d been added to his own and the pilots’ bonus. He felt guilty spending it, but quickly quashed it down; wallowing in guilt was not their way-they were dead, gone and honored. The funerals had gone as well as you could expect-those with enough to send home were, and those who didn’t were sent home as ashes in an urn.
With a sigh, he cracked his neck-the crick had come back again-more annoying than ever. Ordering another tankard after quaffing the rest down. He’d sent a transmission to the ‘kidnappers’, inviting them to the cantina and offering a few drinks to hopefully smooth things over with them-after jumping through a few hoops to get the permission to do so. It’d been a few months since he’d last seen them, and hopefully they were at least in a semi decent mood-that and he wanted to let the genemod know the fucker was dead.
-----
Asteri scowled as she yanked out a brush from her satchel. She had long since gotten into a habit of bringing her brush around now that she was traveling with Gale and Heinrich. But she was irritated. Very irritated. This Iron Company had demanded that they pat her down after they found her cybernetics. It wasn’t her fault that she had a syringe injector at the base of her neck! But what was most irking was that they had messed up her tails! Asteri huffed as she began trying to brush out any potential burrs in her tails.
It had taken every ounce of willpower not to snap at the idiot who had so roughly treated her tail. Didn’t he know it was rude to mess up something so beautiful as what she had? She huffed to Heinrich and Gale: “So, why are we here again?”
Gale shrugged. "Apparently the guy who had led the team that nearly shot us in the hangar when we were leaving invited us to drink with him. As an apology I guess?" Gale said. If Asteri thought she'd had it bad, well, Gale was sure the Iron Company were busy revising their combat plans for dealing with Vaigarin.
When they had gone through the security checkpoint, they'd been asked to declare and secure all weapons they had. Gale had requested access to a hanger. When asked what she could be carrying that'd require it, she stated simply that she'd need the room.
After stripping and handing Heinrich her clothes and piercings, while other members of security were dealing with Asteri’s grumbling, she had shifted from her humanoid form into her full draconic glory. Standing at 5 meters in height at the shoulder while standing on all four paws, with her full length of about 30 meters from snoot to tail tip. Don't even ask about the wingspan. And then coughed up a pair of flintstones the size of a fist each. Then presented her claws and teeth. And tail. And wings. The guy doing the check was left with a pinched nose bridge and writing down a few things on his pad. After they were sure she wouldn't go on a rampage on the station, she'd returned to her usual human form and gotten dressed once more, and the only other thing that popped on her being checked had been her Geist implant. Which seemed to make the security team just that much happier since they had an easy part to track.
Heinrich had a much easier time compared to the other three, but was still processed like the others, having unholstered his pistol. Locking the slide back, and dropping the mag on the counter, it was the only thing he had outside of the two spare mags for it. Otherwise, it was the geist that was the only other item to be noted, as he was given a quick brisk before taking the sidearm back.
The prince wasn’t dressed formally today, simply not feeling it for the formalities, dressed much like he had been when they left last time. Jeans, t-shirt, hoodie, and converses just making an outfit for a usual day out. “They wanted to make up for the misunderstanding, which is very noble of them, and it is a courtesy to respect that. Live and forgive, then die and forget, is what my father always says.”, was Heinrich’s reply as he offered Asteri an apologetic smile.
Nora on the other hand, well, she was a lot louder of a security check. She carried no guns, having come in good faith, dressed rather casually herself. Though her attire was not the part that turned heads as she walked through a metal detector, the machine practically screamed in as much surprise as the operator felt.
On the display as she stepped into the x-ray next, was an image of a fully metal reinforced skeleton, with cybernetic enhancement to further reinforce it at the major joints and spine. “And before you ask, no, it doesn’t come out.”, was all the noble said, hands on her jeans covered hips as her flannel button up rustled, hanging open over a black t-shirt like she had just left a visit to a woodland cabin.
“I see,” The Yeoman replied, and with a sigh presented the four of them with the security badges with a picture and name on them while the soldiers spoke in a harsh, broken language that one could easily mistake for a form of eldritch spellcasting. Most likely grumbling about the NDC and their fancy high tech crap. “Alright, you’ve got a general access pass-yes that means for you two as well-” The yeoman nodded to Heinrich and Nora as he spoke in an accented voice “-means you have access to the Cantina, Commissary, Medical, and Hangar. Since this is your first time here, we’ll be assigning you a guide.”
As he handed them each a badge, he continued. “Do not lose these, as they’ll be what keeps you from getting thrown into a brig. Understand that any criminal activity will be dealt with harshly and to the fullest extent of Company Law.” He paused for a moment, and then walked back to the station, sitting in the swivel chair as he adjusted the midweight body armor given to most security personnel. “Enjoy your visit to Orion station.” Swiveling back around, the soldier began typing in a report for the recent...arrivals.
A man in the usual heavy armor that was issued to CQB troops gestured to them. “Foh-low.” His voice was thickly accented as he shifted the heavy bore shotgun that was standard to space personnel from one hand to another, turning and eager to get the task at hand done.
Asteri basically gave a blank stare as the man tramped off ahead. It was a look filled with Why do we make such bad decisions? She sighed, and just followed along, distractedly brushing her second tail as she followed along behind.
Nora followed closely behind Asteri, another brush in one hand, as she helped the fox girl brush her tail with a happy hum. It would be an odd sight to say the least, in this high security militant space station, as the two girls simply went along. Nora was more then happy to help, knowing how annoying it was just to brush normal hair as it was.
Heinrich just eyed the girls oddly, finding the display an odd sight indeed. “Right, please lead the way sir. I’m assuming our main destination is the cantina, and for one, am looking forward to a drink.”, he said, trying to sound as calm and casual as possible as the group followed. The crown prince was one for being casual, but he almost thought they were being too casual, but figured it was best just to go along with it.
Offering his best smile, Heinrich slipped his arm around Gale’s waist, happy to have this break from things. Much more so with lovers, family, and very good friends. After recent events, he hoped that the company and the NDC would only continue to hold a very good standing going forward in the future.
Gale smiled as she felt Heinrich's arm around her waist. "I swear, those two are almost like clutchmates." She said, gesturing to Nora and Asteri as the four of them followed the guard to the Cantina.
The guard nodded and led them through a corridor, and pausing long enough at another checkpoint for a yeoman to scan their security badges, nodded to a man in a booth behind several inches of bulletproof, shielded glass, and armor plating, to which he hit a button on a console. There was a loud buzzing noise followed by the heavy automated door sliding up opening up into a wide corridor. Scrawled in several different languages, including trade on a sign was the word “Commissary”, though apparently words Commissary and Bazaar were interchangeable to the mercenaries; a series of stalls and venues were aligned along the sides, forming several rows of them. The merchants were dressed in a wide variety of garb, ranging from loose fitting robes to more contemporary garb, shouting what were likely advertisements for their goods.The goods themselves were as varied as the merchants themselves-from strange fruits, bolts of cloth both coarse and fine, and even the hamming of a blacksmith as they passed his stall, a wide variety implements from war to tools. Patrons, be they the company soldiers, as well as women and children-most likely the families of those stationed long term aboard-moved around them, most paying little more than a passing glance to the bunch being led by an armored guard-whether it was a common sight or just simply they had better things to do with their time than watch a bunch of strangers.
As they walked past another stall-they saw a lean, bare chested man with a shaved head, red faced and clearly having had more than his share with way he swayed, covered in elaborate tattoos arguing with a woman who seemed to be selling sausages and various other meats-he was hold out a bit of one in a handkerchief. The trooper held up his hand and motioned for them to stay.
Approaching the pair, the yeoman said something, to which the woman responded. The man seemed even more furious after the yeoman examined the sausage, taking a whiff of it, and shook his head. The man began to argue, his posture becoming ever more aggressive as the yeoman sighed and responded as calmly as possible. This seemed to infuriate him further. Whatever had been said; the end result was obvious-a brief, vicious brawl had broken out-or what may have amounted to one had the man not been drunk-with the fight being ended with a swift buttstroke to the jaw from the yeoman’s gun. He was being half-led, half dragged as he spat several teeth out by two more guards, likely spitting out curses, with the woman looking incredibly smug, to which the yeoman said something that made her face instantly change to a look of concern. She nodded, and dropped a thick canvas over the front of her stall.
He gestured with a “Foh-low” as he cleaned the stock of his weapon. As they neared what seemed to be yet another guard post, the man stopped and asked something from one of the others, and he pointed left, and said something. Their guide nodded, and motioned again. They were led to a door with a sign of a half-naked woman with pointed ears that seemed to be dancing in the middle of a forest clearing. Entering, they were greeted with a sight that would be more akin to a Pub than a cantina-fine wood paneling with a variety of tables and booths, bathed in soft, warm lighting while the smell of cooking food and wood smoke hung in the air Patrons joked, ate, diced and drank. Some were alone and nursing whatever drink they’d had, while others were chatting, likely comparing scars or swapping stories, a few had a pretty girl in their lap, with severs going between them. “You meet here, I leave, enjoy.” The yeoman said, stepping between them as he went out the door.
“Oi, you four, over here!” A burly man in a booth waved them over, his accent wasn’t near as bad as some of the others, trade actually passible-his face was heavily scarred-burn marks across the left side of his face while three, puckered claw marks were across the left side across his eye.socket. His hair was the typical close-cropped style of most company troopers. Dressed in the typical uniform-though rarely seen outside of a base-a dark blue and grey button up jacket, though it was left open exposing a white T-shirt beneath, multi-pocket khaki pants of a similar color and boots with a leather covering along the front. His field cap was currently sitting on the table as he stood, his massive seven foot frame forcing him to duck under a light fixture. Walking over to them, tankard in his hand and placing his field cap on his head, Senior Yeoman Morris gestured around, his grey eye twinkling, though with drink or actual merriment one couldn’t tell. “Welcome to the Dancing Nymph,” He said as he led the four of them back to the booth, “The company is good, the drink is good, the food delicious, and-” He sat back in the booth, his voice dipping a tone lower “-the whores are clean.” He knocked back another swig of the stout he’d been drinking. “Have a seat, and we’ll see about getting some good ale in you.”
Gale smiled at the comment about the whores, having paid attention the whole way. "Why yes, I am, thank you very much." She said with a shit eating grin. "I do try quite hard to avoid such issues. It's bad for business."
“Oh-ho?” Morris tipped his tankard towards her in salute, “A wise practise-you must be popular with the lads, though if you're feeling so inclined you could likely find work here as well, though I don’t know how well that would go over with the other girls.” He took another pull and indicated the booth around him. “Still, crass humor aside, I believe we have come here to do more than flap our gobs-especially when there’s drinking to be done.”
Gale snorted as she settled into the chair across from Morris. "50 script'll get you a lay if you're so inclined. My Madame would bitch at the prices, but I get enough traffic that it more than makes up for it. Then there's the special occasions where the price is something akin to, oh, at least a thousand." She said, completely serious, but with a hint of mirth at the amusement of his not realizing that Gale really did sideline as a whore. Well, 'courtesan' if you want to get technical about it, but Gale was honest about what she did.
“I see,” Morris realized as a trio of girls turned and one of them hissed something as she pointed at the woman that perhaps she was actually being entirely serious, “Well I’m afraid here script won’t do much here-it’d be either Marks or hacksilver.” He motioned to one of the servers to come over “So, what’ll it be?”
“Preferably some form of whiskey, or rum if you have something comparable. Just to distract before the local ladies feel any more territorial.”, Heinrich said idly, hiding his annoyance at the exchange. He was not one to let such things bother him to the point of letting them cause him to act rash. Talking even passively ill of his favorite people, however, still rather chafed him emotionally.
“Wow, stuck your boot in mouth for that one bud. I just hope you keep them cleaner than your humor with a tactless attitude like that.”, Nora said bluntly yet still casual, not letting her status stop her from giving her own jab back. She gave a small giggle, “At least they can recognize legitimate clients. And not make an incident out of things.”
“Well then I suppose you should have no problem securing a warm body for the night.” He said something in the language followed by the woman nodding and walking away, “Though honestly I wouldn’t recommend it-while they’re plenty clean, they tend to bite harder than rats and only aim to get your purse.” Morris took another sip from his tankard as the woman came back with a pint of amber colored liquid in front of Heinrich. Morris nodded and pressed a pair of coins into her hand.
“Thankfully I don’t need to, my knight is the only body I currently need at night, and I don’t even need to pay him. Relationships tend to be kind of weird like that ya know.”, Nora added with another giggle, quite enjoying the back and forth rebuttals despite annoyances. “I’ll have the same as my cousin by the way, I can smell the strong content from here, which is perfect for my strong metabolism.”
Morris grinned. “Well if that’s the case…” He said something to the woman, who looked at Nora, followed by Morris nodding, “We’ve actually got something a little stronger than that if you're feeling brave enough.” The server came back with a lighter gold liquid in a shot glass along with a similar amber liquid in a pint mug to her cousin. “I’d start with the lighter stuff, then hit the rum. Trust me.” He actually leaned back slightly-mainly to avoid a flare up if the stuff ended up igniting spontaneously as the server set them down.
Asteri cocked her head at the bustling activity around them, looking this way and that; she studiously ignored the conversation about whores, and instead just focused on the various baubles and people surrounding them. Though, first. Drinks. Grabbing the attention of the server, she asked, “D’you have miodh- er.. Mead?”
Asteri, after scanning through the room, ears twitching this way and that in curiosity, turned back to the others, and smiled at them. “Whiskey? Rum? So, what, is this a tavern on the high seas now?” Asteri giggled. “I’m honestly surprised I haven't seen a dartboard with knives stuck to it yet.”
Morris chuckled at her comment as a loud THOCK could be heard behind them. He glanced over the edge of the back of the booth’s seat-a trio of men were gathered around a sturdy wooden target at the back of the room, with a good bit of space set apart, set against of trio of poles lashed together with strong hempen rope. A cheer went up as a well-worn throwing axe hit dead center, and one of the man-a short, stout fellow in leather breeches and bearing similar elaborate tattoos to the man in the bazaar who’d lost a few teeth grinned and gestured to a tall fellow in a company uniform. He turned around as another THOCK could be heard followed by more cheers.
“There’s yer answer lass.” He said, as he ordered the mead and placed more coins on the table. A wooden pint mug was set in front of Asteri a moment later. His concern however was the tattooed man. ‘Ancestor’s-Damned Eradani.’ He thought as he took another pull of his tankard, a dark look coming over his face, ‘What the hell are they doing on the Station?’
Galestrix glanced back, and smiled. "Seems to be going in good faith. At least so far." She mentioned. "Oh, and I'd take a barrel of rum, but I didn't see anywhere outside the hanger to fit to enjoy it properly. So a pint of it will do." She said.
“Right.” A similar mug to what was given to Heinrich was set in front of her a few moments later. Morris leaned back further into the booth bench as another hit on the target was heard, followed by cheers and grumbles as individuals won and lost wagers. ‘Just keep calm, he ain’t gonna start a fight...I hope.’ He cracked his neck. “So, how are you all liking your first visit to Orion Station?” He inquired, hoping to distract himself from the noise behind them.
“It has certainly been educational, and a bit of a flashback episode if I’m honest. I haven’t seen gatherings like this since the war. So many soldiers are just cutting loose on down time.” Heinrich said with a thoughtful reply, his attention not having missed the trio that Morris had looked at. He also hadn’t missed the brief change in expression either, and figured that they were ones to keep an eye on.
The prince had a question that was linked to the reaction, bringing his thoughts to what they had seen earlier of the man with similar tattoos in the market. “So with so many, and considering the culture of your group, do you have…. altercations often? I ask because of the slight disagreement one of your security had to deal with in the bazaar on the way here. I don’t suppose you have some more rowdier types among the ranks do you?”
“Oh?” Morris leaned forward and sighed, setting his tankard down. “Mind if I inquire as to who it was he had to deal with before I answer that-though if I’m right about who it was, it means security’s about to get a lot nastier than usual.”
“Beats the hell out of me, I don’t know any of your people other than you man.” Heinrich replied at first with a look of how would he fucking know, before adding to that. Taking a dreg from his mug, he thought of what they saw as the burn set in, “All I know is he had very similar markings on him to the guy you glanced at a moment ago. Something at a butcher shop, over the matter of what was presumably meat sold to him. Ended in him having less teeth then he started with as far as I can tell, but other then that, I know nothing without the understanding of your language to have understood what was said.”
Gale seemed to be completely unfazed as she chugged the drink. "Tingles a bit." She mused, putting the empty mug down. She was giving a small smile as she did, only now glancing behind her to see what was going.
Asteri had already turned to pay attention, sipping idly away at the mead as she watched the competition and listened in on the conversation, before she eventually piped up, “This seems like what Aodh told me; he visits a lot of different spaceports, and occasionally he visits the bars there. Granted, I think he somehow manages to get away with his vibroaere knife.” ...Which I can take a guess and say that he also manages to curve the knife into the center.
Aodh had always been a sly cheater.
But her thoughts turned away from family and towards more current matters as Morris became even more jaded than usual. “If I may…” She cleared her throat. “For one, he didn’t have any hair on his head. Bald as can be, and no facial hair, either.” She put a hand on her chin, thinking. “He had a couple of scars on him- he was bare-chested.” She flicked a tail, forestalling any reply Heinrich could come up with. “And no, he’s not my type, Belmes. Brutes-” At that, she looked at Morris. “-Sorry-” She looked back at Heinrich. “-Like that aren’t my type.” She sniffed. “Most often people who try to pull off that look are usually egotistical maniacs.”
She coughed again. “A-anyways. He had a couple of scars on him- There was a definite set of bullet scars located on his lower-left torso. Three separate instances, in a loose triangle shape. And then there was this rather nasty scar on his right arm- it looked like a stab, but then it turned into a sliding scrape, based off of the positioning. And finally, a scar on his hand- also from a cut.” At that, she shrugged. “Nothing else I could see. Those tattoos were even more obscure than Doire markings on a summer solstice night, back home.” Which, granted, they would be obscure to her, because they were of a completely different culture, but..
Morris glanced at Gale, and simply shrugged at Asteri’s comment, but paid little mind to either as he called out to a server. [“My friends and I would like to move to a quieter section of the bar-is a parlor available?”] He asked, to which she nodded. [“Yes, but you’ll have to buy a wee bit more than a few mugs.”] Morris nodded, and a few moments later pressed a handful of coins into her hand. [“We’ll more likely than not be needing food and more drink before the night is out.”] She nodded, and a few minutes later the four of them were seated in a small parlor, the severs having brought in a few pitchers and bottles of drink. Morris had taken the liberty of ordering them some food-a few exotic stews, breads of varying colors and textures, all steaming hot. Meats, cheeses, fruits, etc.. He himself had snagged a second tankard of the stout he’d been drinking.
“Alright, I figured this is a conversation best had out of earshot.” He said, taking a bowl of creamy white stew with chunks of various vegetables, meats and what seemed to be some kind of citrus fruit. Cutting a slice of a darker bread, and applying butter. “Alright, first things first-to answer your question Heinrich-we do have our fair share of problems much like any military organization.” He dipped his bread and took a bite, letting the texture of the softened bread and stew roll over his tongue as he chewed, “But I should also like to point out that we are not a monolithic entity-case in point the man downstairs.”
“He’s one of the members of the Eradani-bunch of technobarbarians the Grandmaster picked up a while back-those tattoos are usually indicative of what tribe they belong to-not to mention their achievements. So believe me when I say that-” He looked at Asteri, fixing her with a hard stare “-those scars and that build are likely earned through combat and a lifetime of hard lessons.” A pause as he took a pull from his tankard. “My advice-I don’t know what tribe he belongs to, but I’d steer well clear of them-security usually has to crackdown, and hard on these guys to keep 'em’ in line. Their good scavengers and better fighters-but given all the trouble they bring I don’t know why the Grandmaster thought it was a good idea to bring em with us, but-” He let out a sigh as he leaned back in his chair as it creaked under his massive frame “-they're here and for now we have to deal with them-hopefully they’ll be recalled soon.”
Gale wasn't too worried about what she'd seen, instead focusing instead on Morris and the rest present. As they moved from the booth to the private parlor, she relaxed a bit more. Sure, she didn't have a weapon on hand, but being that close to that many people who were not exactly immediately on their side gave her some room for concern over Heinrich's safety.
As it was, she opted to lounge against the wall, smiling. "In short, they're the kind of folks you keep around because they're useful, but would rather do without because of the troubles they bring with them. I can't say I'm immediately familiar with the sort, but the Tumnisians that hail from the old Lobah lands are a pretty militarized group, and tend to be the ones who form Vaigarin bodyguards." She mused aloud. "Capable, but often causing problems."
She nibbled on the slice of bread she'd grabbed before she'd taken her place. She figured Asteri, Heinrich, and Nora more deserved the seats. Especially since Gale, alas, took up a lot of room as it was. She couldn't make her wings and tail go away like a damned Quetzo who often could completely blend into whatever group they wanted. Cheap, long training bastards.
“Pretty sure every civilization has those of their own. For us, it would be the Onikari, a very old and originally war like race. They still have some aggressive tendencies, but they are culturally some of our best officers and warriors.” Heinrich chipped in on the sharing of each group’s resident competent beef sticks of people they knew. He actually chuckled a little, “We’ve actually had to develop mechanized power armor just to keep up with them, and police them if need be.”
The prince took another drag of his tankard, suffering the burn to enjoy the surprisingly rich flavor of his drink. He also took a plate of breads, meats, cheeses, and fruits as he figured he would start with the simplest of basic foods first. Just to avoid anything that may be too strong, or rich if the ale was anything to go off of.
“I don’t know if me not being surprised at the statement is a sign I should be worried about my the state of my sanity,” The yeoman, rolling his shoulders-he felt his joints creak and pop, “Or if it’s just a sign I’ve been in the Company too long.”
“Anyways, like I said, just steer clear of em’ especially when their in those deathtraps they call power armor,” He pointed to the vicious scars across his face, “got that trying to pull one of em out during a hunt that went bad-damn fool was trying to prove something and still wound up catching on fire when the engine in his suit went, and one of the critters we were dealing with thought I’d make a good meal when I was getting him out of it.”
“He not only managed to survive all that, but got at least three of ‘em before-” He cut himself short and shook his head. “Suffice it to say, we’re both alive, and he got treated like a hero and I got six months of extra duty for that stunt. Bastard.” Even three years later he was still sore about that-the fact that a Dragoon had to get involved before they got overrun had not gone over well.
“So, aside from that-yea, we’ve got some rowdier Company guys too, though they're usually smart enough to not to cause too much trouble, and chances are they’ll be toeing the line a lot more carefully than usual now.” Taking a moment to eat some of his stew, he continued “But that’s enough talk of that.”
“So...I suppose I should get to the other part of why I called you all here-you in particular.” He pointed to Asteri, “You’ll be pleased to know if you haven’t been informed yet that the bastard’s dead-suicided when we went to breach his safe room-took a few of our guys with him, but the important thing is he’s dead and gone. So Ancestor’s forbid that he had some trick of his sleeve, Fusil won’t be a problem anymore.”
He debated whether to broach the subject in regards to the tech-thralls, and decided to best leave it be-he might ask Nora when he got a moment and see if she knew anything.
Asteri was a bit cowed at the much larger man’s serious demeanor, especially regarding these Eradani folks; she couldn’t help it that her ears flattened against her head a bit! Unfortunately, she stayed quiet as the others began swapping stories about other troublesome peoples, and the measures that they took to ensure at the very least, an uneasy peace.
...Asteri felt a little put out, all in all. Andraeste was a relatively quiet place!
Nevermind that there were always the occasional giant cow- Aurochs, they were called- that went crazy and starting rampaging around the place, and that Asteri was called from time to time to put them down- or rather, Asteri was designated as the one who was to examine what exactly went wrong with the genes of said rampaging auroch.
She was interrupted by Morris’ statement about what happened to….
“Er, you mean Eius?” ...She didn’t know why, but she guessed she should expect that from this mercenary. She sighed internally. “But… suicide? That doesn’t sound like him at all. He normally would do anything to try not to die. Granted, there never have been ways that tested that, but from all of the various life-extensions and paranoia security measures he’s put in place…” At that, Asteri stopped for a moment, placing a finger on her chin. “-And yes, we knew about the security force. ...And the maids, somewhat? We didn’t know they were weaponized. ...We also didn’t know about the mecha. Or the safe room with the hallway of electrical zaps.” ...Point being, Eius had them all fooled. ...Well, except maybe Dad. “But, anyway. That seems very unlike him, to just… throw away all that work he did?”
Gale shrugged. "Not gonna say a lot on this subject myself. We're, meaning Vaigarin, aren't afraid of running if it seems like we're in a bad place. But we're not gonna go down without a fight. Just ask some of the Pack Roach herds back home. Not that they haven't managed to bring us down either. So it's a two-way road on that bit."
“Good, he got what was coming if that is all true. He went through a lot of trouble to piss me off, only right he get rewarded for such a milestone.”, came Nora’s pleased reply, having gone half way through her pint already. She was grinning quite proudly, “Too bad I didn’t get to pull his head from his body, but I make a note to not reach into the pants of dick heads.”
Heinrich only raised an eyebrow at that colorful boast, “I guess… that’s one way to put it. I just hope collateral was kept to a minimum around the estate. Also that any relevant intel had been gathered if salvageable from the rubble.” He continued to sip his rum, still enjoying the taste so far, though not really feeling it yet. Most likely do to the nanoes in his bloodstream increasing the efficiency of processing the alcohol, but it still has its limits. It would hit him eventually, he just needed to keep drinking is all. “Something tells me he’s the cliche scheming sort, like some terrible Jim Brund film. Even if he’s dead, I wouldn’t be surprised if he left something in place.”
The yeoman swallowed his ale and sputtered, nearly choking on it as he broke into a coughing-laughing fit. “That is definitely good advice, though there wasn’t much left of him after the bomb went off.” He shook his head as took a bite of stew. “And...we’ll go with the collateral at a minimum.” As for intel...he’d need to talk with one of the Nightmen for that.
Morris sighed at that comment about him leaving something in place-he’d planned to talk to Nora about it, but figured the prince would likely want to know as well-and likely wouldn’t end up with him in front of a firing squad given that they were likely cleared for it.
He hoped, and drank deeply from his tankard before speaking.
“About that...uh...we ran into a bunch of tech-thralls.” Another swallow of his ale. “Word’s unfortunately gotten out around the station about it, so people are getting a little jumpy-and the Eradani aren’t gonna help either, though it could be why they were sent.” He said, starting to regret telling them about it. “That means we’re probably going to be dealing with a bunch of Flesh-shapers in all likelihood.” He repressed a shudder, there were things that even they dreaded, and those monsters…
He’d sooner eat one of his own grenades than get taken by one of them.
Gale tilted her head. "Tech-thrall? What is that, like a mechanical person?" She asked, not immediately familiar with the term. She'd gotten the hang of robot, synthetic, even android and gynoid's. But 'tech-thrall' was a new one.
“That’s...that’s some bad business right there.” He looked towards Gale, a look that one couldn’t quite identify on his face, “As the NDC is more than aware, Cybernetics are useful tools, if a little hard on logistics. They can be used to help someone walk again, survive diseases that would otherwise be fatal and the like.”
”And then there are medical techniques that can remove deficiencies in one’s body, regrow limbs, etc,” His voice was steady and even, no doubt the stout he’d been drinking was helping, but it didn’t help the old memories, “Healing is an honorable and much valued profession, and then there are those who turn such trades to darker ends. Individuals who seek to twist and break and mold, creating abominations of Nature in the process. These are what we call Flesh-Shapers. The Tech-Thralls are one such result-they often snatch the dead from the battlefields for their experiments, hence another nickname they have-Corpse Snatchers..”
“More often than not, they use cybernetics to create lumbering abominations from rotting flesh and steel, mostly as means to inflict terror upon anyone unfortunate enough to happen upon them. But then,” Another sip, followed by a sigh, “But then their victims aren’t always dead-sometimes they use their legions to bring them fresh....materials-twisting genetic material and augmenting with machinery. And the worst part is? Their victims are far too aware of it...inhibitor chips placed into the back of their neck that force them to do their bidding, going slowly mad in the process...with no way out but death.”
His voice cracked at that statement, but he pressed on. “Thankfully the technology to do that, especially the inhibitors is fairly rare,” Morris let out a weak chuckle, and continued, “So more often than not they make due with second hand equipment and whatever they can scavenge to make the cybernetics-and you can be damn sure that everyone, even the civilians monitor for that kind of activity.” His expression changed-something dark came on his face, “And it’ll be a toss up as to who gets to them first-us or the people living wherever they decided to practice their trade on.” His voice was sharp, and for a moment a cloud of anger seemed to gather around him, then as if though remembering where he was, he relaxed and the anger evaporated
“While that’s the basic explanation, you can understand why a lot of people would be a bit nervous about it.” He exhaled and once again leaned back. “Err, perhaps this wasn’t the best time to bring it up…” He trailed off, deciding to focus a little more on his stew-preferably while it was still warm. “Sorry.” The yeoman finished lamely.
“Well I don’t know about any inhibitors, such practices in some form or another, are far from new in concept. The reviving the dead part is definitely a new extreme for sure. Though I hope you aren’t lumping anyone with full cybernetics as abominations?” Nora was calm, though kinda bored, only finding mild interest in such B horror flick ideas. The noble was also gauging his meaning behind his opinion, in an admittedly slightly prodding manner.
“I myself have gone under the knife for majority conversion, not really by choice, but by some scheme they thought would win the war. It’s the reason I said not even a 9mm would get past my skull, because it’s metal now, which your security saw.”
Heinrich was far less inclined to talk on the subject, for a few personal reasons, one being the memories of said war. He was far from fond of some of the extreme measures that were willingly engaged during the height of conflict. “I’d heard stories, and seen things…. But this sounds like some serious Frankenstein knock off bullshit.”, the prince grumbled, a bit sheepish at the image they had been offered.
“No Lady Nora, I’m not.” Morris retorted, perhaps a bit more sharply than he intended, “And I’m not sure what this ‘Frankenstein’ is, but these things are no joke, especially when it comes to the live ones-they often take the firepower of a full squad to bring down-or a mechanized cohort if you’re fortunate enough to have the support on hand.” He took a sip of his ale, “Of course, tech-thralls are usually the least of your problems if the Shapers have been settled in long enough.”
Asteri’s brow furrowed as she went deep into thought. “Besides; Andraeste really doesn’t sponsor anything relating to, well, extensive tech-modding that’s against a person’s will, or remove their own sense of… sentience? This also extends to the dead- Andraeste really looks down on anything that could be constituted as… ‘necromancy.’ Basically, what you’re describing , I don’t think any company would really do, as the last incident where we had a company attempt to ‘raise the dead,’ was met with… well, let’s just say Andraeste managed to dissolve them, despite the fact that they were based in Sirris.”
Asteri then continued on: “So, if anything, no company in their right mind would do this. I don’t think even Eius would do this; something like this is too great a risk for him and his… reputation. ...Then again, I could be wrong. Eius decided to kill himself when you invaded him. Clearly, he’s a bit more unhinged than what we originally thought.”
Asteri shook her head. “Anyways, I’m so sorry for what happened to the men under your command. What Eius did.. It went against everything dad had profiled about him…” Asteri remained quiet a moment after that statement, before she gave a strained smile at him. “So, enough about this! Did you manage to get any free time on Andraeste? I’d love to hear your opinion on our lovely little farmer’s paradise.”
“Don’t feel bad about it Asteri,” The old mercenary replied, polishing off what was left of his stew and setting the bowl in front of him, “Unfortunately these kinds of things are part and parcel of the job-not the first time some jackass pulled a stunt like this.”
“And I’m afraid I haven’t.” He took another pull from his tankard and realized it felt unusually light, “We don’t go off station unless we’re on the job or being sent back to the Abyss. Though from what I’ve seen during most missions, and no offense to any of you,” Morris said dryly, checking his drink and realizing that someone must have drilled a hole in the bottom, “But it looks like any other bread basket world I’ve seen-green and keeping bellies full. Can’t ask for much more than that.” He saluted Nora at that statement. “Looks like you’ve all done well for yourselves here-lot of folk would kill to have a chance to have a planet like this one.” And realized that may not have been the best choice of words, but he’d already stuck his foot in his mouth once today, and kept going. “Nicer than some of the other places I’ve been-and aside from the occasional scrap between nobles, no one’s shooting at you. So that’s always a plus.” He set the now sadly empty tankard down and examined one of the others. He smiled as he smelled the mead and poured himself a mug.
“That and the odd corp’ation,” He let loose a belch as he spoke, covering his mouth briefly and murmuring an apology before continuing, “Deciding they need to make things ‘better’ so to speak-but yeah, nice place as far as most planets go.”
Gale chuckled. "Honestly, to me, Andreste is so tame as to be quite relaxing. Even with the odd mishap going on. But I also know plenty of NDC folks have found Sirris II just too wild for them." She said, smiling. "To each their own I think. Though, I will admit, for me, I'd rather something between if I had a choice. Wild enough to keep it interesting, but tame enough to allow for plenty of calm spells."
There was just so much info dumping and conversation about economics, along with whatever else. Even Heinrich found it quite dry, and just glancing at Nora, told him that she felt the same about the situation. “I do the best with what I can, and as much as I would love to minimize corporate involvement. The economy has just become too entangled with them, in how they are essentially now a driving force in magic studies. That being said, I always have aid to call on if things were to tilt into bad.”, Nora replied before taking a deep drink of her alcohol.
Heinrich couldn’t fault that view, and he honestly didn’t want to add to it, for fear of only prolonging the lengthy conversation. It would have been nice to more casually chat with Morris, and less about the affairs of things, or some sort of culture topic to at least learn more of these people.
“I was referrin’ to the mutant cow from two months ago m’lady.” Morris responded, briefly kicking himself for not clarifying. “And, no, there's not much else to say about it.” He stated before anyone could ask. “Anyways…” He trailed off, gathering his thoughts for a moment, attempting to clear his head, and realized that more like than not, the unintentional itopic change had likely put a damper on things “Anyways, you mentioned something about being on the station being ‘light-shedding’ or something?”
Asteri glanced up at that, letting loose a confused 'Huh?' before her face brightened and she exclaimed, "Oh! You're talking about the Aurochs, not... Anyways.... Yeah, corporations can be weird sometimes." She shook her head, before querying with a confused twitch of her ears: “Light-shedding? What do you mean by that?”
“Henrich said something about the visit being light shedding-enlightening?” He replied, taking a bite of a thick piece of bread with beef and cheese, “Just curious what ya meant by that?”
Morris never did get his answer, as a sudden commotion downstairs interrupted them. “Well shit.” He stood as the woman came in, leaning in the doorway and saying something, leading the burly merc to sigh and nod as she came in with another of covered metal containers. “Alright, looks like we got to clear out.” As the server grabbed the food and deposited it in them, he held the door. “We’ll continue this conversation at a later date-I’ll have some of the food and booze sent with you.” Rapidly hurrying them despite being half drunk, he spotted at least a dozen security officers trying to break up a fight-it didn’t take much of a genius to figure out what had happened as he caught a glimpse of a tattooed arm crack one of the troopers across the jaw as the rest piled in.
A few minutes later they were at the security checkpoint, the four of them turning their badges in and saying their goodbyes, food and booze securely loaded aboard.
He was still kicking himself as they left. ‘Need to really work on my conversation skills.’ A missed opportunity on both sides.
Ah well-at least he still had a tankard of that stout he’d managed to snag, or at least did until he realized he’d forgotten it on board their vessel.
“Damn it.”