Commissar Farzi
🎖️ Game Master
- RP Date
- YE 44.2.16
- RP Location
- Sandraker
Several Hours after Mission.
Morris sealed the airlock behind the squad and sighed, the mission had been a near disaster, but they'd pulled it off. It had only cost them the low low price of the possible death of one squadmate.
Cheapest deal yet he'd say, if it wasn't for the fact that the intel may amount to nothing but 'chasing nostalgia', and it was likely going to be the same of the tagged vehicle either.
They'd passed the intel off to the squire waiting for them, who had run off to the central gantry in a hurry, but not before telling them to get some rest. Poor bastard; as they underwent the standard decon procedures, he sighed. "Welp, haven't got any new orders yet," He commented as the last of the toxic dust was washed away in a slurry of decon spray, "And it looks like we've actually got some time off-best get some food and rest while you can." The air became almost unbearably hot for a moment as they were blasted to dry the fluid before the inner lock was unsealed for them to pass through. The big man walked forward, dropping his combat shield and impaler off with the supply smith, who immediately collected them for repair for the former and examination in the latter's case. Grandmaster had been awful insistent on getting more than a few of those lately.
Oh well, wasn't his business...and honestly he didn't give a shit at the moment; all he wanted was food, family, and bed-in that order...
Morris sealed the airlock behind the squad and sighed, the mission had been a near disaster, but they'd pulled it off. It had only cost them the low low price of the possible death of one squadmate.
Cheapest deal yet he'd say, if it wasn't for the fact that the intel may amount to nothing but 'chasing nostalgia', and it was likely going to be the same of the tagged vehicle either.
They'd passed the intel off to the squire waiting for them, who had run off to the central gantry in a hurry, but not before telling them to get some rest. Poor bastard; as they underwent the standard decon procedures, he sighed. "Welp, haven't got any new orders yet," He commented as the last of the toxic dust was washed away in a slurry of decon spray, "And it looks like we've actually got some time off-best get some food and rest while you can." The air became almost unbearably hot for a moment as they were blasted to dry the fluid before the inner lock was unsealed for them to pass through. The big man walked forward, dropping his combat shield and impaler off with the supply smith, who immediately collected them for repair for the former and examination in the latter's case. Grandmaster had been awful insistent on getting more than a few of those lately.
Oh well, wasn't his business...and honestly he didn't give a shit at the moment; all he wanted was food, family, and bed-in that order...
- OOC Notes
- 'Chasing Nostalgia' is a term the Vahallans use that is the equivalent of the phrase fool's errand; mostly related to their Ancestor's works and trying to recapture their glory, but is also used to describe what are seen as pointless or worthless tasks
Last edited: