Post by MagusKariusPrelune on Sept 6, 2004 11:07:47 GMT -5
Originally posted by Shard
The Osprey-pattern dropship screeched through Hakaer's atmosphere, a point of light streaking across the darkness of the planet's night-cycle.
Aboard the carrier, strapped into position with heavy-duty safety-straps, Inquisitor Nero Redmayne creased his brow, deep in thought. He could sense the thoughts of his companions, his mind skimming over theirs briefly, noting the mood. Then he realised you didn't need to be a telepath of his ability to realise the atmosphere was tinged with a sense of loss. Addendorff.
There was a pang of loss, of grief. Now was not the time. Not here, he could not... would not... show weakness.
A bulb flashed briefly above Nero's head, and the craft shuddered. The servo-pilot confirmed the ETA of the craft at The Facility. Ten minutes. It would be good to be back. There, amongst his tomes, his grimoires, Nero could find some form of solace.
But also... the serebite. Thoughts rebounded in his cranium; it had worked for Grustonov - why not Amstrad? But then doubts crept in. The psychic backlash of the Grustonov Incident had been incredibly potent.
No, The Triad would not be seperated. Not with Thay. And, as of late, he had seemed to be becoming more vocal. Wherever he was.
The Osprey jerked, and a mutter of annoyance emnated from one of the Triad Guards nearby.
Nero was home.
+ + + + + + + + +
The hydraulics of the ship's pressure doors hissed as they began to open. Awaiting their Master's return stood a small gathering of savants, menials and Wards. A servo-butler approached the first figure to exit the carrier, offering a decanter of amasec.
Nero declined. He was far more interested in the hooded figure stood next to Vittoré, his Triad Guard Captain. Though somewhat fatigued by the rough descent, he drew his sere-blade, and approached the sinister character.
This course of action was immediately met with alarm by many of the servants, and Vittoré's hand automatically had his laspistol unholstered.
A mind impulse from Nero; Hold your fire
With a curt nod, Redmayne went to an aggressive combat stance. The hood fell away from the mysterious figure, to reveal a head of sandy hair and sparkling, if somewhat startled, eyes.
'What is the Terror of Death?' Nero commenced the mantra, observing his startled opponents every move.
'That we die our work incomplete?' Returned a perplexed voice.
Nero struck, only to be met by two feet of Martian steel. A gladius barred his blade's thrust. A second was drawn by the blonde, and Redmayne disengaged.
'Yet what is the Joy of Life?' Continued the Inquisitor.
A flurry of blows, an over-extended arm, and Nero's sere-blade was rested on his quarry's throat.
'That we Die our work Incomplete?'
Lutz, I presume?
A nod. Nero sheathed his sword and extended an open palm, which was promptly accepted.
'Welcome to Hakaer.'
Life's too short for Diplomacy
www.nexushive.co.uk
The Osprey-pattern dropship screeched through Hakaer's atmosphere, a point of light streaking across the darkness of the planet's night-cycle.
Aboard the carrier, strapped into position with heavy-duty safety-straps, Inquisitor Nero Redmayne creased his brow, deep in thought. He could sense the thoughts of his companions, his mind skimming over theirs briefly, noting the mood. Then he realised you didn't need to be a telepath of his ability to realise the atmosphere was tinged with a sense of loss. Addendorff.
There was a pang of loss, of grief. Now was not the time. Not here, he could not... would not... show weakness.
A bulb flashed briefly above Nero's head, and the craft shuddered. The servo-pilot confirmed the ETA of the craft at The Facility. Ten minutes. It would be good to be back. There, amongst his tomes, his grimoires, Nero could find some form of solace.
But also... the serebite. Thoughts rebounded in his cranium; it had worked for Grustonov - why not Amstrad? But then doubts crept in. The psychic backlash of the Grustonov Incident had been incredibly potent.
No, The Triad would not be seperated. Not with Thay. And, as of late, he had seemed to be becoming more vocal. Wherever he was.
The Osprey jerked, and a mutter of annoyance emnated from one of the Triad Guards nearby.
Nero was home.
+ + + + + + + + +
The hydraulics of the ship's pressure doors hissed as they began to open. Awaiting their Master's return stood a small gathering of savants, menials and Wards. A servo-butler approached the first figure to exit the carrier, offering a decanter of amasec.
Nero declined. He was far more interested in the hooded figure stood next to Vittoré, his Triad Guard Captain. Though somewhat fatigued by the rough descent, he drew his sere-blade, and approached the sinister character.
This course of action was immediately met with alarm by many of the servants, and Vittoré's hand automatically had his laspistol unholstered.
A mind impulse from Nero; Hold your fire
With a curt nod, Redmayne went to an aggressive combat stance. The hood fell away from the mysterious figure, to reveal a head of sandy hair and sparkling, if somewhat startled, eyes.
'What is the Terror of Death?' Nero commenced the mantra, observing his startled opponents every move.
'That we die our work incomplete?' Returned a perplexed voice.
Nero struck, only to be met by two feet of Martian steel. A gladius barred his blade's thrust. A second was drawn by the blonde, and Redmayne disengaged.
'Yet what is the Joy of Life?' Continued the Inquisitor.
A flurry of blows, an over-extended arm, and Nero's sere-blade was rested on his quarry's throat.
'That we Die our work Incomplete?'
Lutz, I presume?
A nod. Nero sheathed his sword and extended an open palm, which was promptly accepted.
'Welcome to Hakaer.'
Life's too short for Diplomacy
www.nexushive.co.uk