night had fallen, and as it did so had the rain, ensuring the darkness would be accompanied by as much discomfort as was worldly possible.
In truth however Turg cared little about the rain, in a way it was even welcome to him, as it would provide his ragtag group with water, a scarce enough commodity as it was.
They were fifteen, and much to Turg’s surprise all were tan orks, all though if he were to think about it, then in hindsight it only made sense, after all they were already the outcasts amongst the orks, and no self respecting ork would be seen following a tan ork. Thus Turg merely considered it a blessing, and made attempts at filling his bottle while walking, making a mark on the wall every tenth step, wearing his knife down further.
Mordred stared at the imagery of the small pack traveling along the wall, marking it as they went. “Surely this proves that they are plotting something more than just waiting us out, look the main scout, he marks the wall, every tenth pace, possibly showing his people staging areas, perhaps they mean to scale the walls, or they hide some large siege engines?” The knights stood in silence contemplating his words, they had all seen it, some were in fact still watching it. “Sir, I doubt they have a land based siege machine, however I do believe this must serve a purpose, maybe a subterranean siege engine?” Sir Ton’s suggestion made sense, it would be what they would use. “I think your missing the point, we can easily save these people, let us just port them to the Sword, then we can bombard the planet, and be done with it.” Ariadne had sounded obstinate, and the suggestion was far out of character, he would have to speak with her when the war was done. “I will not abandon my ship!”Screeched Arthur from the gurney where the Chirurgeon was busy stitching up the half healed injuries. ” I know it sounds silly, but Arthur is right, we cannot in good conscience abandon the Camelot. If not simply because she is one of our ships, than surely because she is still mainly functional, and then there is the matter of the missing Knights. As it stands we have no clue where they are.” Mordred sighed, he hated agreeing with his former teacher, almost as much as he hated disagreeing with Ariadne.
Turg stoppered his last bottle just before he fell, the floor below him just, stopping. Immediately fear gripped his heart tightly, could it be he was falling of the world? However no sooner had his mind formed the question, or the answer presented itself, in the form of a numbing pain shooting through his body. He had not fallen of the world, he had fallen into it. He groaned as he stood up, and soon he heard the soft thump of feet landing a lot more gracefully beside him. Not particularly pleased with his own landing Turg scowled at the newcomers. “Good find, boss.” the words had startled Turg, he had never thought of himself as anyone’s boss, than he saw where his hole lead, next to him was where he would normally scratch the wall, except, there was none. Instead they found themselves in a strange cavernous place, it’s walls oddly angular and beset by some form of shelving. Realisation struck as hard as the floor, they were inside.
Alert claxons blared and red strobe lights flickered, yet above all was heard the voice of Knight Commander Mordred drowning out all other alerts as being insignificant. “We have a hull breach on sub level ten! All knights converge on deck minus ten, training facility! Full arms, I repeat Full arms!” Ignoring the shocked faces he drew his sword, Merlin shimmering with power as it sprang to life. “Tower and Shield, on me!” Gwenn34 provided him with a map overlay showing the optimal route to the breach. He could feel his blood pressure rise as he turned corners, hearing the other Knights heavy footsteps as sabaton’s met iron flooring, Gwenn34 softly warned him that his vitals were elevating, then showed a timer indicating time till contact.
Turg examined the area with care, making sure not to touch the objects on the shelves, he had heard stories of cursed knives and guns before. An idea dawned on him, he did not know any of the others. He turned to look at them.”Tell me your names.” They stared at him, before looking to the floor, all but one had no name, not having been deemed important enough to be named. “I am Findling, of hookclaw.” Turg smiled two of fifteen were named, and he was one of them. “I am Turg born of Kranos and Jorne, of the steppe dwellers.” he was proud of his heritage, and now he was proud of his group, so he added. “Now of the wall.” Spreading his arms in a gesture that encompassed the others, eliciting smiles and awkward chuckles. He then walked to the first one that had spoken to him, “And you are too, and you, and you, all of you, if you want, we will need no warbosses, we have us.” He could tell this made them nervous, after all they had always been deemed worthless, and declaring you were your own clan, bore risks, especially if the warbosses disagreed. “I am Findling” Repeated Findling. “Of the wall” the tall woman frowned a little, and Turg smiled, as the others started mumbling, of the wall, under their breaths. To Turg’s surprise, Findling smiled back.
The lower decks were a disarrayed mess, Knight’s armours lay strewn about, weapons thrown haphazardly to the floor wherever they looked, the Knight’s responsible would face quite a few reprimands, that was to say, if they were ever found, the lack of proper illumination also irritated him, but at least that was due to a technical malfunction. Lucky then that Gwenn had the schematics of the ship, and could display what should be in front of them on the H.U.D. of every helm, still Mordred disliked walking into uncertainty, so when the darkness became too dense and would be a true hindrance not just to the ones that had breached the hull but to himself as well, he had Gwenn34 turn on his suits light, thus casting a beam of visibility onto the hallway before him.
The others followed suit, and immediately Mordred regretted it.
They had found the missing Knights, what Gwenn had identified as suits of armour strewn about had been just that, and a little more, the men and women of the ship would not be reprimanded, because they could not be reprimanded, the suits weren’t discarded, they were still worn, the bearers however were all dead. “Damage indicates it was done by a Scytherops”Gwenn34 helpfully diagnosed. Mordred knelt, merlin held loosely at his side, loosely yet ready, scytherops were a deadly foe, oft lurking in darkness or round corners. The Knights used to think these beasts preyed on men, but recently Mordred had learned they did not, the truth was that these savage monsters only attacked when you startled them, mush like a cornered cat, if cats had eight scythed limbs, powered by muscles as thick as an average man’s thigh, although much like a cats claws the scythes of a scytherops were often less than hygienic, the cause of death usually a rapid infection of ones blood rather than the severity of the cut. “Gwenn, scan for scytherops life signs” the order was short, strict, and broadcast on the general channel, an order and warning in one.