ARRIVAL[Chaos. It must have been Chaos, somehow seizing him and pulling him through the Warp. He felt...unsettled, still. The taint of corruption was probably everywhere.
He was a prisoner, that much was clear--his weapons gone, his power armor at only minimal charge ((mods I did that so he could at least move lol)). Someone wanted him weak.
He was not weak. He knew he would be facing a daemon when he went downstairs, but he went, as soon as he found and deciphered the note. Gadriel was never one to back down from a fight.
He scowled around the room, looking for what Chairon would call the hallmarks of Chaos--their malign glyphs, the sickening stench of the Warp. He could find nothing, except strangers, who seemed to pay him no mind. Yet. ]
I want none of your poison, heretic.
SKY'S ASCENSION [Eldar, Gadriel thought, seeing the creatures wisping through the air. There were stories of Astartes fighting alongside the Eldar in the Archives, against Orks, against Necrons. While they were not allies, they were not...entirely...foes. The woman in charge, in the robe of feathers, looked like how he imagined Eldar nobility to dress.
Impractical. Fanciful. But they were fierce warriors when they chose to be.
The challenge? Not a challenge at all for Gadriel, despite the low charge of his power armor. He'd had ten thousand years of psycho indoctrination and honing of his Primaris abilities. Simple agility was easy. ]
Was this supposed to be difficult, my lady? [He calls back, over his shoulder. Ultramarines did not have 'fun' but this was as close as he'd ever come. ]
SEASON OF LIGHT [He could smell combat here--the smell of scorched metal and burned wood, and beneath it, despite all efforts, the rank stench of spilled blood. It was the opposite of unsettling to him. It was home. It was familiar. It was a hundred thousand battlefields he'd trod.
[Gadriel patrolled around the edges of the district, more familiar to him than the lights and the merriment within, almost hoping trouble would decide to find him. And make a terrible mistake in doing so.]
Gadriel | Warhammer 40K |idiot space marine | undecided
He was a prisoner, that much was clear--his weapons gone, his power armor at only minimal charge ((mods I did that so he could at least move lol)). Someone wanted him weak.
He was not weak. He knew he would be facing a daemon when he went downstairs, but he went, as soon as he found and deciphered the note. Gadriel was never one to back down from a fight.
He scowled around the room, looking for what Chairon would call the hallmarks of Chaos--their malign glyphs, the sickening stench of the Warp. He could find nothing, except strangers, who seemed to pay him no mind. Yet. ]
I want none of your poison, heretic.
SKY'S ASCENSION
[Eldar, Gadriel thought, seeing the creatures wisping through the air. There were stories of Astartes fighting alongside the Eldar in the Archives, against Orks, against Necrons. While they were not allies, they were not...entirely...foes. The woman in charge, in the robe of feathers, looked like how he imagined Eldar nobility to dress.
Impractical. Fanciful. But they were fierce warriors when they chose to be.
The challenge? Not a challenge at all for Gadriel, despite the low charge of his power armor. He'd had ten thousand years of psycho indoctrination and honing of his Primaris abilities. Simple agility was easy. ]
Was this supposed to be difficult, my lady? [He calls back, over his shoulder. Ultramarines did not have 'fun' but this was as close as he'd ever come. ]
SEASON OF LIGHT
[He could smell combat here--the smell of scorched metal and burned wood, and beneath it, despite all efforts, the rank stench of spilled blood. It was the opposite of unsettling to him. It was home. It was familiar. It was a hundred thousand battlefields he'd trod.
[Gadriel patrolled around the edges of the district, more familiar to him than the lights and the merriment within, almost hoping trouble would decide to find him. And make a terrible mistake in doing so.]