Appearance:
Victrix, without her armour, would be relatively unassuming
– a strong but slight woman – were it not for her outward demeanor. She has a
half black, half purple mohican which is dyed from halfway down her head. The
rest of her head is not shaven, but is cut very short. She has numerous tattoos
and markings, some of which have clear prison planet connotations, and a couple
of places where skin has obviously been cut away and “replaced”. She has an MI
Unit clearly visible in the nape of her neck, and is never, ever seen without
her manacles, sword and gun. She takes her job as armsmistress and
self-declared “security” on the ship incredibly seriously, and woe betide
anyone who gets in her way or disobeys a direct command of hers. (Unless
they’re of higher rank on the ship and people are around or they’re likely to
get away.)
["Finding Yourself" is after the jump!]
"Finding Yourself":
People talk of “finding yourself” and “soul-searching”
(which I’m pretty sure is probably heretical…) but I never really understood
what they meant by that. I think, given the number of times the arbites have
hunted (and often caught) me and the places I’ve found myself in, that it was
clear, to some extent, that I hadn’t “found myself” at all. I think I had
barely found my warp trail, if I’m honest.
I’d been on Inessa’s ship for a fair few months, but this
was the first time she had called the lot of us together for a single mission.
I tend not to converse with the rest of the crew – I have a job, I do it,
people are kept safe. I don’t need to converse to do that. The seneschal and
missionary are the ones who talk; they say their piece, people listen, if what
they say is stupid they get ignored. Simple. So, when she gave us our mission
(to recover a relic), I didn’t stay long. I was on my way to the armoury to
suit up and get ready when there was a call over the vox system. Apparently our
missionary had taken it upon himself to try and save our souls…again. We were
all lead to the chapel where he harangued us for a while, that is, until myself
and the Explorator decided enough was enough. As we left, we heard his
denouncements ringing through our ears. We introduced ourselves and I offered
to accompany her, her name being Isabelle, on a wander around the ship. We
realised, quickly, that we were being followed. I readied my gun and found an
Astropath following us. This in itself was unnerving; psykers are a strange
breed to begin with, and this one seemed particularly unhinged. He introduced
himself as Gilliam the “Grandtastic”. We asked if there was a reason he was following
us and he started talking about eyes.
Our conversations and wanders were cut short. A voice
came across the vox, telling us to go and sleep if we needed to prior to the
disembarkation. I said my goodbyes to Isabelle and Gilliam, and as they went to
sleep, I began my patrol.
I don’t tend to sleep unless absolutely necessary. I know
the armsmen would take care of the ship if I couldn’t, but I’d much rather do it
myself and know everything is fine
on board. I patrolled overnight, keeping a silent (well, as silent as possible)
vigil over the ship and its inhabitants, until I heard the message asking us to
report to the teleportarium. I suppose I must have zoned out as I found myself
arriving ten minutes after everyone else. I suppose I should have guessed that
things were going far too well. Without much comment, we were teleported
planetside.
We found ourselves in a small town, fairly primitive in
tech and design. Alessaunder the missionary sat and prayed for a while. I knew
there was a bounty on his head, but it felt unfair of me to chain him there,
while he was exalting. While Quinn and Gilliam went shopping, Isabelle, who
seemed to have become my personal assistant, and I went up onto the
battlements. The Navigator strode ahead, and when everyone was ready, we set
off.
Alessaunder ran ahead, and when the road began to narrow,
I suggested he get his ass (and all of its deathwishes) behind me. We came
across a small hut, with an even smaller entrance. I entered alone, and there
was some basic, primitive bedding inside. I relayed this to the team, who
decided that my word alone wasn’t good enough and all bundled in together. When
they’d had a good look at nothing for
themselves, we continued.
We found ourselves entering a valley, the path leading
down between two ‘walls’ of rock. Gilliam thought that he could sense an army
above us. With Isabelle’s help, I reached the top. I kept thinking I saw things
in the grass but couldn’t get a decent enough visual to be willing to risk the
shot. The last thing I wanted to do was to shoot, miss and have whatever was
roaming the forests leap out and devour us all. Gilliam then told me he sensed
an army on the opposite bank. Getting suspicious of whether he was reading(?)
his senses correctly, I climbed back down and we continued, the Navigator once
again far ahead.
We continued down into the valley, and entered a
clearing. The rustling had followed me from the ridgetop; I could hear it. I
managed to get a peek at what it was through my sights; a simian creature, with
a basic tabard, made from skin and fur. On its back it carried a primitive
spear, made from what looked like a tooth and a branch, held together with
another piece of animal hide, and in its hand held another tooth, about 15cms long,
with a basic grip of hide. I heard someone following behind me and I told them
to stop and wait. The creature was looking at me, more startled and curious
than aggressive. I wanted to approach without any of the…nutcases…I was working
with causing it to run away. I lowered my gun, letting it hang by its strap,
and tried to coax the creature out of hiding. It was very, very tentative at
first, but when I began to offer it some of my rations, it began to get braver.
And then there was a “whoosh”…and a lot of heat.
Hph. My next thought was “I’m going to ignore those
idiots before I shoot them.” The simian seemed unphased by the rush of heat
that passed over it. I hurriedly passed it more of my rations, quietly
apologising to it for my crewmates’ idiocy. It seemed to warm to me, and
climbed up on to my shoulder, with some coaxing. It seemed quite happy to sit
there and eat (though I’m sure I had more ration left than I ended up with!)
and we moved off once again. Alessaunder seemed pissed that I’d found a companion
and kept telling me to get rid of it. I didn’t dare say what I wanted to; that
I’d be getting rid of him far quicker than the simian if I got my way.
We quickened our pace and suddenly I heard something
behind us. I turned around and there was a panther readying itself to pounce. I
lifted my sight to my eye and shot. The creature recoiled in pain and it leapt
towards Gilliam and I. I was luckily able to dodge it before its head suddenly
exploded. Purple ‘blood’ splashed across my face and open visor. There was
immense, searing pain across my cheek and nose. I wiped the ‘blood’ away with
my glove, my flesh feeling as if it was bubbling and broiling. Gilliam stood
there, looking rather pleased with himself, and I presumed the headsplosion had
something to do with him. I congratulated him and then hissed that maybe he
should have waited until I was out of the way. I reached to the simian on my
shoulder, who had hidden behind my helmet while the panther attacked, and began
to try and calm it down. Alessaunder got back in my face about the simian again
and a war of words was begun. Quinn stepped between us, telling him to back
down, and I continued walking. It wasn’t long before Gilliam stopped us,
though, warning us of another of the creatures in the foliage. I took the lead
and walked slowly into the forest…and came face to face with a creature almost
four times larger than the first.
This one refused to go down as quickly as the first. I
had to rearrange my shots as Gilliam decided it would be a good idea(™) to get up close
to it. And then Alessaunder decided that was a good idea (™) too. So naturally, Alessaunder, after flaming the
crap out of the creature (and setting our astropath alight for good measure…),
got attacked. Seriously. What did he
expect? The missionary was knocked to the ground and Gilliam, Quinn and I set
about trying to get rid of the creature as quickly as we could. My final shot
seemed to do serious damage to it, and it collapsed to the ground. The simian
on my shoulders had tried to help, but seemed to falter in courage as it went
to throw its spears, so I once again tried to calm it down (I don’t know it’s
gender…does it even have a
gender?!). I knelt by Alessaunder, the simian climbing from my shoulder, and I
tried to use what little medical expertise I had to stabilise him. I knew the
bounty said dead or alive, but I hoped he might recover just enough to aid us
through the last part of our journey. We eventually returned to the path,
Isabelle carrying Alessaunder.
As we got closer to our destination, Gilliam spotted some
more simians. These ones were larger than the one on my shoulder, which shied
away as they came close. Gilliam tried to coax one out and I decided to walk to
the entrance to the temple instead. I didn’t want to put the simian in danger,
nor get caught in the middle of a brawl I couldn’t win. There seemed to be two
tribes of roughly eight individuals, and, while I know I make a big thing about
my abilities with weapons, I knew I couldn’t take on sixteen simians at once;
not of that size.
Eventually, Gilliam decided to join us, and the leader of
one of the tribes came forward, almost challenging him. He wavered in his
attempt to frighten it away, and I stepped forwards. Drawing my monosword, I
thrust it into the ground as hard as I could. The alpha simian backed off, and
I stepped towards it, spreading my arms wide and thrusting my chest out. “I’m the alpha in these parts” was
almost what I was trying to say. “This is my
territory now. These are my people.”
The smaller simian on my shoulder seemed to get brave at this point, waving its
knife towards the retreating tribe. I smiled inwardly. I think I knew I’d made
a friend at that point.
The others joined us and we split up to look around.
Isabelle sat by the door, Alessaunder’s damaged body next to her. There was a port
by the door and we asked Isabelle to keep it locked for us. Quinn and the
Navigator went up the main stairs, past
a casket which probably contained
our mission objective…Gilliam went to the right and I decided to go to the
left. There was a cog symbol and a port. I plugged myself in and was instantly
met by symbols and data I had no hope of understanding. I voxed across to
Isabelle to ask her to help, but she effectively gave me a ‘busy’ tone.
Suddenly, there was a scream across the vox. It sounded full of static, and I
instantly presumed that it was Isabelle. I ran back and saw Alessaunder stood
up, apparently fully healed, and Isabelle’s eyes were completely black. I cried
out for help over the vox, asking everyone to return, and no-one responded. No-one. They didn’t care. They. Didn’t. Care. At this point, the
crew lost any morsel of respect I may have once held for them. One of the crew
was in serious trouble and no-one cared.
I asked Alessaunder to stay with her; to watch over her…to...be with her.
I went up the middle stairs to the casket and, against my
better judgement, wrenched the lid off with a struggle. When it gave way, there
was a jet black suit of power armour, obviously far older than any I have seen
before – beautifully ornate and with far less skulls. Without hesitation I
switched mine for it, leaving mine in the casket. I then turned to look in the
right-hand corridor. I found Gilliam with his hand pinned into a machine. He
was stuck, and I didn’t know what to do. I wondered if I could pull his hand
out, but the needles looked too deep to do that without doing some serious
damage. His veins were blackened and his hand was emaciated. I looked at the
button next to his hand and asked if I could try pressing it. He agreed, though
I don’t know whether I should have been panicked or thankful. I figured out
that the button needed to be pressed and twisted…but this seemed only to make
things worse. His arm descended and more needles forced themselves into his
arm. Suddenly there was a voice that just proclaimed “I have awoken”. Gilliam
managed to free his arm, now completely black veined and emaciated, and we
returned to the central room.
I wanted to leave. I did not want to be around when
whatever had awoken decided to rise and shine. As we ran, I shouted at Isabelle
to open the door, and it juddered, struggling to raise above knee height. I ran
to her, the Missionary having disappeared off somewhere (exactly as I had asked
him not to). Isabelle fell towards
me, her face and what little I could see of her body, showing signs of the same
veining and emaciation as Gilliam. My heart sank. She was the only one I had
forged any kind of friendship with, and she seemed completely vacant. I
wondered if she was trapped in the system.
Against my better judgement, I sat in the same position
she had, plugging my sense-link into the mainframe once more. The system
screamed at me. Isabelle screamed at
me. Isabelle, in the system,
screamed at me. I tried to reach out to her, to bring her back…her
consciousness was jumbled; mixed within the system itself, spread to all
corners of the machine. I told Gilliam to take her to the secondary port I had
found. I was bringing her back, but I couldn’t bring her back without her body.
I kept calling her, coaxing her out of the hiding places she had found. When I
felt her body blip into existence in the machine, I pulled her consciousness
towards it, and suddenly, it was gone. I hoped it had returned to where it
belonged.
I unplugged myself and ran to her, my head reeling from
the machine. I picked her up and brought her to the door. I plugged myself back
in and pleaded with her to help me open the door. I guessed she must have
heard, as while the machine fought strongly against me opening the door, it
felt easier than it should have. I presumed the door was raising, as the
responses the machine was giving me was telling me so. I voxed out to everyone,
telling them to get out of there. I
told Gilliam to take Isabelle and the simian and run. He fought back and I felt my concentration slipping in the
machine. I told him I couldn’t keep the door open forever, and that I needed to know the crew were safe. I
asked him to broadcast a message, telling people where we were and that we
required help. He eventually left, but I knew he was unhappy about the decision
I had chosen to make. The simian placed its knife in my hand, and I smiled
inwardly. I knew I wouldn’t use it, in all probability, but the sentiment
behind it wasn’t lost.
I voxed out to the Seneschal and the Navigator and the
Missionary. I asked them to come as quickly as they could. I got silence from
two of them and the seneschal answered. I presumed he was nearby as he began to
argue too. Once again, I reminded him I could only concentrate on keeping the
door open for a short period of time and that I needed to know the crew were
safe. I reminded him that I was able to handle being hurt much better than the
others, and that I would stand the best chance of survival. He left. I presumed
the navigator and missionary weren’t returning; that they had been lost, and
that we were no doubt going to be facing something…soon.
I unplugged myself from the port, feeling drained. The
door didn’t close, though. It remained slightly open, just enough for someone not wearing power armour to get
through. I heard movement from the top of the central staircase, and I
positioned myself centrally, ready to get the cleanest shot I could. Suddenly I
saw Gilliam’s shock staff lying behind me and I turned and picked it up. I
placed it on my back with my monosword, and repositioned.
Suddenly, I saw Quinn out of the corner of my eye. He had
climbed back in and had placed himself behind the casket. I was never going to
say it to his face, but it was somewhat calming to know I wasn’t alone; to know
I would have an ally alongside me should I fail. We heard the missionary’s
voice, praying; the same prayer over and over and over again. I froze. It was
using his voice. Whatever had awoken was using his voice…and it terrified me.
Silent, we waited for the doors to open. One was bent
back, far further than it was ever intended to. A charm, a bolt shell casing
necklace, fell from the room. The seneschal picked it up and placed it around
his neck, symbolically…and then a figure appeared. I shot, without hesitation.
And it kept coming.
Quinn’s marksmanship was second-to-none, far surpassing
even my own. I picked at its head with my long-las, but Quinn’s bolt gun was
taking him out far quicker than I could. I heard Gilliam’s voice in my head
asking for the shock staff back. Taking a second, I threw it back to him under
the door. As I did so, I spotted a port on the machine’s chest and I decided I
would try and plug myself in at the earliest opportunity, and I told Gilliam I
was thinking such. He instantly began to tell me not to and I ignored him. I
had no choice. It moved to Quinn and lifted him into the air, choking him…and
then I received a mental image.
It was…I can’t even put it into words. I saw
Isabelle…being torn apart. I saw her consciousness being torn into pieces and scattered
to the corners of the machine. I felt her pain and terror, her fear and
overwhelming panic. I…saw and felt…everything. Everything.
I stumbled backwards, feeling hot tears rising. I never cry. NEVER. After the things I have seen and the places I’ve been, there
is nothing that can penetrate my
soul hard enough to make me cry…and yet there I was, tears clouding my vision,
anger and rage and Isabelle’s lingering fear and desperation mixing into one
vat of pure, unadulterated revenge.
And I got it. I leapt at it, grappling with it as if my
life depended on it; as if her life
depended on it, and wrested it to the ground. I plugged myself into its port,
seeing the heart beating below, seeing the one human weak point it had. I almost screeched at Quinn, telling him
to focus on its heart; to blow it to pieces, and we did. My sword and Quinn’s
flamer made short work of its one last piece of humanity, and it stopped. Dead.
Behind me, I heard the door juttering, trying to raise.
The simian ran straight back on to my shoulder and I stroked its head, trying
to gain as much comfort as I could from its soft fur. I turned to Quinn, who I
should have been praising, and questioned him cruelly. Why were we here? What
had happened? What happened to the Navigator and Missionary? He had no answers,
and this made me only angrier with him.
Isabella, looking much better than she had done, walked
to the door and began to push it up to a height we were more capable of walking
beneath. I left her with Quinn, and I smiled and told her I was glad we did a
good job. She looked at me quizzically and starting rolling out stats and data
about the crew we’d lost, the crew who had survived…she…wasn’t what she had
been before…she had entered the system. I had the horrible feeling I hadn’t
found her all.
I strode up to the top of the stairs and found the bodies
of the Navigator and Alessaunder. They were both emaciated and black veined everywhere, with black eyes. The one
big difference was they both had holes drilled into their right temples. I
looked at them, feeling sick, and walked back down the stairs.
Gilliam was missing. Everyone volunteered to go look for
him, but I asked to go alone. Instead, I asked Quinn to go and get the bodies
ready for departure. We were taking them home. I was not leaving anyone behind, dead or alive. I told them I had my vox
and that I would provide constant updates if required, but it turned out that
wasn’t necessary. I found him not far into the forest, and I invited him to
come back. Something had changed him, though. He told me he had been
press-ganged into joining the crew and that he didn’t want to return, he wanted
to live with the simians and experience the creatures of the planet.
For the first time, I felt sorry for him, and a
connection to him. I explained my own circumstances; that I had been
press-ganged too, and that we would see so many creatures on so many worlds
when we left. I realised my voice had changed. I had lost my gravelly
command-shouting tones, and I was softer…more…open…? It was strange, it was
uncomfortable…it was vulnerable…but
it seemed to strike a chord. He took my hand and we walked back, together.
As I arrived back, I asked Isabelle to help me with some
‘glitches in the system I couldn’t figure out’. She sat down where we had
placed her previously, and I plugged myself, once more, into the machine. It
was quiet, and calm, and I could hear a blip I hadn’t heard previously. I called
out to the final piece of her consciousness and coaxed it back to her. I
couldn’t leave her there. I couldn’t live with myself had I not brought her
home as she was.
Quinn had ignored me, as he was prone to do, and so I
found myself passing the simian across to Gilliam and carrying the bodies of
our dead crewmates over to the exit in the room at the top of the stairs. A
carrier landed on the pad and a gentleman stepped out. I was irritated and
exhausted from both the battle and the emotional strain of holding this group
of broken individuals together, so I was less than pleasant. Quinn was very, very friendly to him, which somehow
made me even more suspicious of him. Eventually, though, it became clear that
he was going to be our only way out of the temple. I accepted his offer of a
lho-stick and we climbed aboard, laying the bodies of our crewmates in the
centre of the carrier. I pulled Isabella close to me (gently) and Gilliam
pulled close to play with and stroke the simian which had climbed back on to my
shoulder.
I don’t know why I did half of what I did…I don’t know
why I didn’t just stick to my motto of “Do your job, don’t talk to anyone,
finish your job, go” and instead took them under my wing…
Well, maybe I do. No-one else was going to bring them all
back. No-one else was going to care if they lived or died. No-one else was
going to remember them if they fell or praise them if they survived. Quinn
doesn’t care. Gilliam’s heart is in the right place, but he’s not sure of his
path in life at the moment, Isabelle…oh, poor, poor Isabelle…
And then there’s me…
And then
there’s me.
And my simian companion.
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