From Kaerls to Huscarls.

[aleifr]

Aleifr's fingers flexed a little as the shuttle began to rumble with the thrum of it's engines, digging into his harness as he felt the thing lift off the ground. He still wasn't used to this. Even after months of serving the Rout and seeing the wonders that they had at their disposal, riding in the belly of one of their flying ships still made him vaguely uneasy - at least until they'd hit the point where they were flying smoothly.

Once they were, he unbuckled the harness strapping him into his seat and made his way to the viewport at the back of the ship. Thick, white clouds filled up most of the view, but he could see little scraps of Fenris through the gaps. Mountains, ice, braces of pine trees and the endless expanse of Asaheim. As they climbed, the details grew harder to make out and his perpetual scowl deepened.

He was grateful to Jarl Ironwolf for the honor he'd given him - him and Aila both. He'd be a fucking idiot not to considering he's to be serving one of the Allfather's agents directly ... but it was strange to think that he might not see this place again. Their world. Their home. He didn't like that thought.

But his jarl had given him a task, and he'd see it through.

Comments

[letitallout]

"I really couldn't say, to be honest." McCoy shrugs. "It's come up a few times that I know of, but the Inquisitor's always called the bluff."

Aila tears her eyes away from the deceptively elegant jewelry to look at McCoy over the rack of rifles that divides the armory in half. "Were they bluffing?"

"Not all of them," McCoy says mildly.

[aleifr]

Aleifr would be more impressed, but the information doesn't come as much of a surprise, honestly. She's an agent of the Allfather's will. It'd be more of a shock if she didn't have nerves harder than an Astartes's plate.

He just gives a vaguely approving nod as he meanders to the other side of the rack and looks for a bolt pistol that fits his hand.

[letitallout]

McCoy watches him try the various pistols. "If you find one you like, our tech-priests can modify the grip, no Forge World required."

"His family doesn't know when to stop growing," Aila chimes in from where she's looking at lasguns.

[aleifr]

"I'd have to fire them before I tell you whether or not I like them." Aleifr replies to McCoy with a casual shrug. The ship may not be big enough to house a company, but he's seen enough soldiers around that he's confident there's a firing range hidden somewhere to keep them sharp.

Then his attention returns to Aila. He glances at her over the top of the rack -- proving her point, really, but he's grinning.

"Still bitter?"

[letitallout]

"I was never bitter," Aila replies disdainfully. Bitter people are way less confrontational about their grievances than she is.

[aleifr]

Judging by the little snort of laughter from his side of the weapon's rack? He doesn't buy that.

His eyes return to the row of firearms for a moment, picking out a few weapons that he'll need to test before looking over at McCoy.

"I assume we'll be able to come back here as needed? Take what we need, test things on whatever training range you have once we've had a chance to see our quarters?"

[letitallout]

Aila glares at Aleifr and McCoy pretends not to notice. "Of course," he says with a nod. "Is that a hint that we should be moving along?"

Aila, a different pattern of lasgun in each hand, is willing to be moved along, largely because she can only carry so much, and she puts the lasgun she likes less back onto the rack.

[aleifr]

"It was a question."

Aleifr's blunt enough that if he was done here, he'd have said as much. However, the casual shrug that follows it ...

"Though I would like to see where we'll be staying."

For now, he replaces everything but the sword he'd chosen and the bolt pistol that fit his hand most comfortably.

[letitallout]

"All right then," McCoy says, disguising any relief he might be feeling. "We'll just get you signed out with the Corporal."

The Corporal is impassive himself, recording their requisitions without so much as a raised eyebrow at the beginnings of what will turn into Aila's grenade stockpile if she goes unchecked, and McCoy leads them back into the hallway. "Range is around that corner," he says, gesturing as he leads them in the opposite direction, back towards the lift. "Your quarters are up in officer country with the rest of the Inquisitor's entourage."

[aleifr]

"Good to know." Aleifr nods.

He grins back at Aila, though. Officer Country. It's like hearing that he's been given chambers in Jarlheim and it's hard not to feel just a touch smug at that.

report me to the inquisition 'cause i'm doing necromancy

[steady_hand]

"Who are our neighbors?" Aila asks as she trails Aleifr trailing McCoy.

"Me," McCoy replies, "and others you haven't met yet. You'll like Logan. Or," he says after a pause, "more to the point, he'll like you."

now that i'm done DMing for the night, elmorise.gif

[aleifr]

"The Inquisitor mentioned him," Aleifr says, in lock-step with his wife. "He's ... like us?"

From a Death World, he means, but his command of Low Gothic still leaves something to be desired. It's possible that someone who wasn't from a lethally hostile climate could connect to them, but to him it seems the shortest path.

[steady_hand]

McCoy seems to get the thrust, at least.

"Heard of Catachan?" The question's rhetorical, because McCoy keeps talking. "It's one of the only planets that can give Fenris a run for its money when trying to kill every person who sets foot on it. That's Logan's homeworld, and he's the toughest son of a bitch I've ever met who wasn't wearing Astartes armor."

[aleifr]

"Interesting." Aleifr's tone makes it clear that he sees that assessment as a challenge. "I look forward to meeting him."

His ego's not so fragile that he feels the need to assert his dominance, but he does believe that iron sharpens iron. If this Logan is as fearsome as the others say, he'd like to test his mettle against him. See which of them comes out on top.

[steady_hand]

"Is that the one right next to..." Aila trails off as she digs through her Gothic vocabulary for the right term, "...the Eye of Terror?"

"You're thinking of Cadia," McCoy says. "Which would actually be a fairly nice world if it weren't on hell's doorstep."

"Ah." Aila is inclined to call that close enough, since they start with the same damn runes.

[aleifr]

Aleifr would be inclined to agree. Certainly wouldn't have done much better with it himself.

"Cadia." He repeats, trying to reinforce his grip on the word as they arrive at the lift. "A warrior's world, no?"

He's heard the name in that context at least. If it's that near to the Eye, he can't imagine that it breeds soft people.

[steady_hand]

"Soldiers, I would say." McCoy rocks back on his heels as they wait for the lift, one thumb hooked into his belt. "Many of them are warriors as well, of course, and they're unmatched at urban warfare and counterinsurgency, but Cadia's real virtue is discipline. If a Cadian line breaks, no line was ever going to hold."

Aila nods, making a mental note to seek out some Cadians. One thing you don't learn on Fenris is how to fight in cities. She's seen picts after calling bullshit on more senior kaerls describing the places they'd accompanied the Rout, but she's still not sure she fully believes they exist.

[aleifr]

"Good folk to have at your side, then."

Valuable knowledge, stout hearts ... fine enough companions, whether or not they prove to be a match for Aila or himself in strength of arms. They'll more than likely have to fight in these 'cities' in the Inquisitor's service, and if they live up to the pict-captures Aila has described, they're going to have to lean on the Cadian's expertise at first.

"Are there any other people amongst the crew we ought to know before we meet them?" Aleifr asks, eyes moving away from their careful study of his surroundings and on to McCoy. "Folk with an important role or skill we ought to lean on?"

[steady_hand]

"Scott—Captain Summers—runs the ship, and he's a superb pilot if you felt like picking up that skill. He's all duty, all the time, but he's a good man. Brother Kurt is holding down the fort for the Ecclesiarchy—"

McCoy breaks off as the elevator arrives and he has to move out of the way for a disembarking tech-priest who doesn't so much as glance at the trio (though between the hood and the glassy lenses that have replaced their eyes, it's hard to tell.)

"And, speaking of the Cult Mechanicus," he goes on, as the tech-priest continues to whir down the hallway, apparently oblivious to the discussion or even their presence, "Magos Culo is our senior representative from that august order, though I mention her mostly to caution you to stay out of her way."

Frowning, Aila points at the departing tech-priest with a quizzical look on her face. Being close enough to tug on the rust-red robes does not seem like avoidance.

"That's not the Magos," McCoy clarifies. "And most of the Machine God's chosen can see behind themselves, incidentally."

Aila drops her hand back to her side like a child caught making a naughty gesture and decides the inside of the elevator is a better place to be at the moment.

[aleifr]

Under other circumstances, Aleifr might have found some amusement in his wife's unintentional indiscretion, but in this setting ... he's simply filing away a tech-priest's augmented sight as a 'good to know'.

"Thank you." He nods to McCoy as he steps into the elevator behind the others, stepping off to one side so as not to obstruct the door from either of them. "For your patience with our questions."

McCoy may have been ordered to help them adjust, and his manner hasn't given Aleifr any reason to suspect that this experience has been trying ... but he knows that patience is a finite resource, even if it isn't being actively taxed.

[steady_hand]

"Hmm?" McCoy seems like he's about to brush it off as nothing, but reconsiders, looking from Aleifr to Aila and back again with a solemnity foreign to his character, at least from what he's displayed so far. "Ironwolf threw you into the fire," he says, a statement of fact rather than an accusation. "And since we're all here burning together, the least I can do is help newcomers get used to the flames. Crew decks."

McCoy changes the subject without a pause, indicating a button near the top of the panel before poking it.

[aleifr]

It's a moment of honest candor that Aleifr appreciates. He's under no illusions that the challenges they'll face in the coming days will be easily overcome. The sudden somberness in McCoy's demeanor and the acknowledgement that those challenges will test them all ... it speaks well of him, in Aleifr's eyes. As an ally.

The shift in topic does bring to mind another question, though.

"How many aboard?"

The Arbiter had struck him as small on approach, at least for the personal vessel of an agent of the Allfather's will. He's curious to learn how large her retinue actually is.

[steady_hand]

"We run 13 to 15 thousand, depending how many combat troops we have aboard. We're on the lighter end of that right now, after the Inquisitor's last mission went ugly fast and we took heavy casualties." McCoy purses his lips, a doctor's distaste for death clear in his expression.

Losses of a few thousand people would destroy entire tribes, and Aila wonders how much that had to do with their recruitment. Obviously the jarls wouldn't strip Fenris's defenses to bolster someone else's forces, but the Inquisitor strengthening whatever it is she uses for a command pack with a huscarl or two is, in Aila's totally unbiased opinion, a very smart move.

"Will we be picking up reinforcements?" she asks.

"Eventually." McCoy shrugs. "The Inquisitor prefers to avoid using armies—for all she's a platoon on her own—so she might or might not prioritize it. Depends what threats to peace and goodness she's got on the agenda, I suppose."

[aleifr]

It goes without saying, but Aleifr shares his wife's opinion on the prudence of adding a pair of huscarls to help augment the strength of the Inquisitor's personal guard.

Still ... interesting to know that the she prefers to avoid pitched battles.

"The Inquisitor tries to smother threats in the crib, then?" Aleifr grunts. "Before armies are needed."

[steady_hand]

"In my experience, she uses a disease metaphor when she's arguing with her peers, but yes—smother it in the crib, uproot as soon as it sprouts, that general principle. Better all around to shoot a few Chaos sympathizers rather than wait until you've got daemons crawling out of the wainscoting."

"Wains...coating?" Aila ventures, unable to keep up with McCoy's command of Low Gothic.

"Ah. Sorry," he says, looking abashed. "A kind of wall treatment. Just a figure of speech, not really important."

Aila doesn't know what a 'wall treatment' is, either, but she's not going to pursue what she suspects is unsatisfying prey, so she just nods. The rest of it made sense, at least.