!IStSIACosg 03/01/11(Tue)01:39 No.14083682|
Any response you could make is cut short by a flash of light so bright you're blinded for a few seconds. When your vision comes back, the =][= ships are gone and the ship bearing the Fabricator General circles back and enters the void station. Everyone on the dock drops to their knees as a hatch in the craft opens and a hunk of pistons, gears, pipes, and other assorted junk clunks its way out escorted by several more red-robed soldiers. Skitarii they were called? In any case, the scrap heap looks at you and, with a voice that sounds like what a dying cat would sound like if its vocal cords were replaced by rusty gears, speaks to you. "Greetings oh Prophet, I am Telamir Korazan, Fabricator General of Mars and High Lord of Terra. I welcome you to the Imperium of Man, and apologize profusely for the actions of fools. I know not why anyone would attack someone as exalted as I, nor threaten one so holy as you, but the STC is clearly not safe here. Let me escort you to the Forge of Olympus, where we may speak in safety."