Omega98
CHYOA Guru
And so it begins...

With a painful wail, the Deceitful Truth emerged from a tear in the universe to return to Realspace. The bridge of the ancient Battle Barge was roughly oval in shape with a large dais in the center of the room. All around the perimeter of the deck were workstations where the bridge crew hastily looked over their readouts and relayed information to one-another. Above the dais itself monitors were hung from the ceiling, suspended around the throne in the center of the room.
Upon the throne sat the bloated figure of the ship's captain. His power armour was warped unnaturally, stretched to accommodate his engorged frame. Boils and sores marked his face, as well as the rest of him, and his sickly skin gave off the most pungent of odors. His hair was graying, and came in patches on the top of his head and temples. Beside him to either side stood two Astartes in Tactical Dreadnought armour; their stances stoic, surveying the room for any disruption.
There was a fourth figure on the dais as well. A woman whose presence, judging from the expression on the face of the captain, was barely tolerated. She was slender, and stood with a dignified poise. She had long dark hair that cascaded down her back like a waterfall, and eyes so black that one couldn't tell where her iris' ended and her pupils began. She was dressed plainly in an officer's uniform; yet unlike the rest of the crew hers was clean and pressed.
"Transition complete Sire!" a junior officer addressed his commander from one of the workstations. "Confirmed arrival in the plotted sector. Drift of thirty-three thousand kilometres off desired location. Bralix is still dead ahead on our course. Estimated time until flyby... three hours."
"Acceptable." Grumbled the captain as he stood up, with some effort, and moved a slow step towards the woman.
Her attention was focused on one of the monitors, and without turning handed the captain a dataslate. "Have these people brought to me in one hour."
His hand clenched, and the crew watched him for a moment fully expecting him to hit her. But instead his fist relaxed and he found his words. "I command here witch. Remember that."
She did turn then and gave him a condescending smile, "Of course Captain Mortus. Please have these people brought to me in one hour."
With a snort, the hulking Astartes snatched the dataslate from her and and motioned for one of the bridge crew to take it. "Do as the witch desires."
With a fearful salute, the man was off.
*****
It was a short while later when a servitor found you...
With a painful wail, the Deceitful Truth emerged from a tear in the universe to return to Realspace. The bridge of the ancient Battle Barge was roughly oval in shape with a large dais in the center of the room. All around the perimeter of the deck were workstations where the bridge crew hastily looked over their readouts and relayed information to one-another. Above the dais itself monitors were hung from the ceiling, suspended around the throne in the center of the room.
Upon the throne sat the bloated figure of the ship's captain. His power armour was warped unnaturally, stretched to accommodate his engorged frame. Boils and sores marked his face, as well as the rest of him, and his sickly skin gave off the most pungent of odors. His hair was graying, and came in patches on the top of his head and temples. Beside him to either side stood two Astartes in Tactical Dreadnought armour; their stances stoic, surveying the room for any disruption.
There was a fourth figure on the dais as well. A woman whose presence, judging from the expression on the face of the captain, was barely tolerated. She was slender, and stood with a dignified poise. She had long dark hair that cascaded down her back like a waterfall, and eyes so black that one couldn't tell where her iris' ended and her pupils began. She was dressed plainly in an officer's uniform; yet unlike the rest of the crew hers was clean and pressed.
"Transition complete Sire!" a junior officer addressed his commander from one of the workstations. "Confirmed arrival in the plotted sector. Drift of thirty-three thousand kilometres off desired location. Bralix is still dead ahead on our course. Estimated time until flyby... three hours."
"Acceptable." Grumbled the captain as he stood up, with some effort, and moved a slow step towards the woman.
Her attention was focused on one of the monitors, and without turning handed the captain a dataslate. "Have these people brought to me in one hour."
His hand clenched, and the crew watched him for a moment fully expecting him to hit her. But instead his fist relaxed and he found his words. "I command here witch. Remember that."
She did turn then and gave him a condescending smile, "Of course Captain Mortus. Please have these people brought to me in one hour."
With a snort, the hulking Astartes snatched the dataslate from her and and motioned for one of the bridge crew to take it. "Do as the witch desires."
With a fearful salute, the man was off.
*****
It was a short while later when a servitor found you...
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