Whatever your origins might be you have found yourself assembled together by agents and machinations of your distant benefactor the Inquisitor Gideon Ravenor. Beyond his name you know very little of him except that he has plucked you from obscurity for higher causes than any you have ever dreamed. You have through his commands through other agents and go-betweens found yourself on a small trade vessel, The Fate Cutter, owned by men of questionable undertakings. But you've been directed to ignore any and all things about this ship. You have been given descent accommodations during your week long travel through space in some far flung part of the universe you still have yet to be told of when the Captain comes to your bunks. He is a tall man with dark eyes and scars to match. If you had to make a guess of his employment you would say it's something on the underbelly of society. "Your being hailed. I'll take you to my cabin so you have some privacy." Once you reach the Captains spartan room you find a hologram of a man you all know well, Harlon Nayl. Nayl was once a bounty hunter who was employed as an Acolyte by the Inquisitor Gregor Eisenhorn. He is known to carry a vast array of weapons and is one of Ravenor's senior Acolytes. He is known to have worked with Ravenor for a long time. He is a brutally large man but with this comes with equal amounts of intellect. He far outranks you and he knows it well. Once you all enter and the Captain leaves he starts to speak.
"I hope your accommodations are to your liking recruits. Some of you have worked for the Inquisitor in the past and some of you have found yourself fresh to the cause of the Emperor. It doesn't really matter as you are all now a band. Your success is each others and your failure is all your own. I am going to provide you with your brief but first since you have not all worked together before...introduce yourself and what you bring to the table."
A short man in an Arbitator uniform steps forward. "My name is Dredd I am the law the judge jury and exicutioner. I always track down my man and am good to have in a shootout. Let's not delay to long we have a job to do.
A shabby man, tall In stature with a Las Pistol strapped to his leg, steps forward and says;
" I am Dillon Colts, some call me a Charlton some call me a Rogue. But I call myself a man of great acquisitions ! I have a fondness for antiques and I like to collect the neck vertebrae of my enemies. I have a sizable collection. I hope this mission in the employ of the great inquisitor will widen my collection and bring renown to my name.
"that is not dead which can eternal lie and with strange aeons death may die"
I am Nero Angelus of Feralworld. Rather than boast of my skills, allow me to show you on the field of combat so I may be judged accordingly.
"Whoever battles with monsters had better see that it does not turn him into a monster. And if you gaze long enough into the abyss, the abyss will gaze into you," - Friedrich Nietzche
Thaddeus walked around the ship for the first few hours aimlessly. Marveling that it was, in fact, a ship, and not the flying city it appeared to be. after a while it began to feel like home, the faces and personalities began to feel familiar. to a man whose whole life had been under the bottom rung of society, Thaddeus seemed to blend more easily with the crew then the other passengers.
he wears simple dark leathers, in a civilised enough style, and not like some barbarian. his skin dark and scared, burnt from the hot sun, and the crack of las weapons, with white scars, from the kiss of a blade. use to walking in a slight slouch, to keep the sun, or gutter rain from his eyes, his long tangled bleached white hair falling over his face, he strode around the ship; instinctively searching for the protection of darkness and seclusion in the depths of the hull.
finding the message waiting for him in his prescribed unit, he turned and moved with a predators speed to the captain's quarters, taking him uncomfortably higher in the superstructure.
he was unused to taking orders, but forcing himself to obey. before now, Thaddeus had but one rule, Take only from those who had more then you, those who could last the day without. simple enough, it had kept him alive. Until the day he had seen, the, IT. the, unholy ritual and the unnatural beasts that sprung forth from the bellies of cultists. In the first good act of his life, Thaddeus went to the shrine, begged to see the Confessors, to tell them of what he saw.
within weeks, mean had arrived on Galox, a motley group of mercenaries, clerics, arbites and dregs like himself. for the first time he offered his services, before asking for coin, acting as guide, scout and occasional extra muscle. it took months to search out and destroy all the separate cult groups on Galox. for the first time in his miserable life, Thaddius felt a strange motivation. Purpose.
when it was done, the leader of the group offered Thaddius the chance to leave Galox, probably never to return. the group had suffered many casualties in the long hunt. the choice was an easy one.
lost in his memories he almost walked passed the captain's cabin. shaking himself off, he walked inside, finding he was the last to arrive, and the group was making introductions.
"Thaddius... scout, sniffer, sneaker and slicer." he said quietly without looking any one in the eye.
(OOC, woopsie on the size of the ship, i thought it was a small, but still warp capable ship, so still about a half mile long )
"shoot straight, conserve ammo, watch your buddy's back, and NEVER, cut a deal, with a Dragon." Shadowrunner's words of wisdom.
