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Zavodila (PoisonousIvee/Mr.Aznable)

PoisonousIvee

PoisonousIvee

Cluster
Joined
Nov 28, 2017
"Commander," one of Edric's men jogged up to him, a paper in hand, "Orders through the vox, sir. Somethin' 'bout guarding a Cult Mechanic." He handed the paper over, "Seems borin', if I can speak honestly."
 
Edrick removed his dust goggles and took the parchment, eyeing it over suspiciously. "Didn't ask fer yer opinion, trooper. Fall back in for patrol." He said as he read it. A magos? No, not a magos. Magos underling, here to study the wildlife? He bit back a sour groan as he read more. Great, a babysitting mission from his "honor guard". They didn't even have an honor guard.
 
He saluted and jogged back to his patrol group, who all didn't seem very happy hearing about some babysitting orders. But, orders were orders, and they had coordinates to reach to meet this cultist.
 
He sighed a bit and headed out to the transport. It was hastily painted over, and in need of a refit. The Chimera pattern transport, named "Chatterbox", was rumbling outside of the field command center, loaded up with survival equipment, and ready for the voyage to the designated landing zone. Edrick clambered up to the turred, and dropped in next to the pintle mounted heavy stubber. "Lead to all you mangey lot, let's not make our esteemed guest wait too long, eh? Crowhounds don't like the cogboys any more'n we do." He said, and gently kicked the back of the driver's seat, giving him the signal to move out. The vehicle convoy was small, only two chimeras, a salamander, and a hellhound flame tank, but this was the easiest way to move quickly.
 
Affirmations echoed throughout as they moved toward the location of this soon to be Magos. Didn't want them to find out the hardest just how mean crowhounds were, after all. That's a reprimand he would sorely like to avoid.
 
He cursed his luck again and again, first the stealers, now this? This was going to be just great. The trip took a few hours from the main gate out to the Wind Flats, where the mechanicus loony was supposed to land.
 
When they arrived, the Aquila Lander was still in stand by on the ground while the cult mechanic scuttled around. Well, not so much scuttled in the actual meaning of the word, but they did have a bit of a untamed excitement to their steps. Far less wires and cords sticking out of them as well. Just a singular pack with a robotic arm sticking out from the top. To this day, he couldn't wrap his head around those weird Martians.
 
He shook his head. All the way from mars? Hell of a journey for one coghead. He sounded Chatterbox's warhorn and hopped on the vox, making sure the other vehicles didn't open fire on the techno-sorceror.
 
The cultist turned sharply at the sound, all movement stopped. He couldn't really see the expression from here, but they resembled a stag caught in Taurox lights from where he was. But then, the Mechanicus turned toward the Lander and gave a wave before the engines of the ship roared to life before it took off.
 
He rolled his eyes. Cultists, the lot of them. Chatterbox, and the other vehicles in the line pulled up to the landing zone, and the troops of the "honor guard" disembarked from the transports, and began loading the boxes of equipment that had been dropped off with the Adept. Edrick stared down at the hooded figure with something verging on contempt, and removed his goggles as he lept down from the tank. "Welcome to Uldiah, Adept. I'm Colonel Chullain, of the Uldiah Crowhounds."
 
"A pleasure to meet you, Commander." She greeted. She? Most Adepts he had met were male. "I'm sorry to put you out like this. Normally, I wouldn't need anyone to guide me around. However, this planet's data has been lost and I am to create new records of it. So it's dangers are not known to me and thus," she gestured to him with her hands - one he noticed was metal and thin - "I am in need of your services until my survey is complete."
 
He made a noise and crossed his arms across his chest. "An' just when.." he looked around, surveying the landscape. No good. Even with the armor in a semi-circle around them, they were still open. "When do you think your little survey will be complete?" He asked.
 
"I have an entire planet to comb, different flora and fauna and various subspecies therein to examine. I wager," she paused, "close to one Terran solar cycle."
 
"A year?" Great. A throne-damned year, stuck babysitting this metal worshipping lunatic. He made a noise. "I have to have two squads of my best troopers dedicated to your mission for a year?"
 
"Not possible." He said flatly, dismissively. "I'm not sure how much information your archmagos has been made privy to, but we here on Uldiah have hit something of a rough patch. Genestealer cultists are popping up everywhere and we need every man available." He said. "Best I can do for your protection is either sporadic, or very short term."
 
"Out of the question." She said, rather simply, "I'm not sure what information has been made privy to you, Commander, but this mission is of top priority. I can aid you in your dealings with these Genestealer worshippers, but I am not to be made anything less than your first and foremost concern."
 
His temper was rising. They were exposed in an active warzone, and now this tin trollop was going to lecture him about priorities? "You must have a bolt loose, Adept, but my orders come direct from the office of the high-esteemed Warmaster Macarov, leading party of the Sabbat Worlds crusade force, of which, in reference to the Sabbat Worlds, we are a part. So no, the only thing out of the question is your rather silly demands of an ongoing honor guard!" He snapped. He quickly regained his composure, removed his cap, and smoothed back his neatly cropped brown hair, before replacing the cap. "We can discuss the details in a safer location. It would be bad for both of us if you were assassinated before your mission began."
 
Her eyes - one human and one mechanical - looked rather annoyed with his little fit. "Very well. Shall we?"
 
He made a noise and gestured to the open rear hatch on the idling chimera. A few short moments later, and the small column was en route back to the main gates of Uldiah Prime.
 
She looked around the inside of the Chimera slowly, examining it silently. The air around her felt judgemental, snobbish even.
 
He cursed his luck again and again. He was deep in thought when his earbead crackled. "Say again." He said.

"Marathon here, seeing movement at three o'clock, low in the grass.", replied the vox operator of the Salamander.

"Throne damn it all." He cursed. "Lead to all, battle read. Locked, loaded, eyes on the road. Three o'clock and low in the grass." He said over the coms, and cranked the heavy stubber around, and pulled the charging handle.
 
A fight? Already? That was rather fast.
"If it is a creature other than your Genestealer cultist, I will be remiss at the loss of life but a specimen is still a specimen." Of course, a Mechanicus that didn't care if the study was alive or dead.
 
"We don't intend to find out, and please, keep all non-priority vox chatter to a minimum." He said before he began peppering the roadside with fire, and soon, the other vehicles joined in. Short bursts of fire kicked up sprays of dirt and shredded grasses, and then, from behind Chatterbox, the gutteral coughs of the inferno cannon onboard "Tempest", the hellhound, could be heard. Whatever was in the fields didn't last long.
 
He could feel her annoyance radiating from her like the heat from a laz battery. He was rather disrespectful, wasn't he? Most Imperial Guardsmen she had met were rather accommodating. He was not accommodating.
 
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