Act 1: Friendship is Cheap, BUT FLASHY BITZ AIN'T

In the outer reaches of space, just outside the edge of the Imperium’s boundary, hangs a space station. The strange race that built it eons ago had named it Raxilionatchinax, but most of its inhabitants simply called it the Rax Refueling Station, or those that spoke low gothic did anyway. It was the last known point of ‘civilization’ to many a rogue trader, and mercenaries of every sort flocked to the station for the chance of high pay and rare technology. As a result, one would be hard pressed to find a greater hive of scum and villainy anywhere else in the galaxy, save the Eye of Terror.

At any given moment, hundreds of ships swirl about its ancient and corrugated surfaces, dropping off cargos and people, and picking up the same. Being of every sort were gathered there, and if it weren’t for the threat of death and lost profits, continuous civil war would likely rage across the station. To keep skirmishes to a minimum, the vast station is broken into sectors, each given to a separate race to occupy, though the four entities of chaos each had their own, removed sectors. Recently, a notably extravagant rogue trader arrived offering promises of riches, travel, food, and quarters. These are all the qualities of a contract that the mercenaries of this creaking establishment are perfectly willing to kill for. In this hostile climate, our rogue heroes are thrown, some in the search for money, life, protection, or to simply ‘ave a chance ta stomp sum gitz.

Thump

The slab of meat hit the floor in front of the Venomthrope. He oogled it threateningly, its black eyes stared back. He oogled harder, it continued to stare. He reached out with a tentacle, the air grew heavy with his poison. The creature's flesh gave one whiff of it and decided it would rather melt off then put up with the stench. He withdrew his tentacle. His meal was already dead. Since the incident with killing one of the small fleshy things with his poison they had been bring him nothing but dead meat. It bored him. In fact he bored him to the point of anger. He promptly grabbed the hunk of meat and threw it at the door to his cage. It landed with another thump. He gave it a sharp glare and then grabbed it once more and decided to throw it at the fleshy thing that was coming towards him with his shiny little gun. Him and the meat plonked over in a rather silly manner, though completely lost to Talon, and the man started reconsidering his life choices. Talon fumbled out the room in a manner only a Venomthrope could truly do and wandered through the halls in search of a better meal. A meal that squirmed when he touched it and howled as it was consumed by his poison. Luckily for him the whole space station was filled with guardsmen that did just that. It was turning out to be a wonderful day for Talon.

Canoptek watched as the strange tyranid roamed the halls and killed the guardsmen, while feeling slightly happy that he could finally make his move out of his hiding spot. Canoptek had been on the ship for several days waiting for the opportune moment to make his escape off of the ship. He had thought about using his cloak again to go somewhere else but the chances of randomly appearing not in space or inside something were still calculating in his head. Anyways the human ship had surprised him with its contents as Canoptek had found a necron artifact which he could not remember exactly what it was due to being online for only a few days. But before leaving, Canoptek wanted to search the hold again for more. "Sneaking" by the tyranid which he now recognized was a Venomthrope, Canoptek made his way to the hold where he found a group of guardsmen on alert. Deciding it was not worth engaging them, Canoptek turned around to go back.. When suddenly the Venomthrope busted through the doors and devoured the guards. "Unexpected factors are always the most beneficial" says Canoptek as he strutted through the hold to where he found the original artifact. Unfortunately the three large crates with necron markings were gone and Canoptek cursed. Suddenly Canoptek was surrounded by tentacles and was being fit inside the Venomthrope's mouth. Canoptek was broken out of his train of thought and fired a relatively small burst from his Eldritch Lance, not enough to damage the creature but enough to get its attention. Canoptek then knocked himself out of the Venomthrope's tentacles and teleported out to the station which he could see out of the hold's doors, unknowingly he brought the Venomthrope with him.

"Get him back here! Catch him!" The screams of guard and trader alike being heard as Zivvi dotted about the station weaving through the bodies, his head down, trying to blend in. He wasn't used to being caught, and certainly unaccustomed to being chased. His speed was dizzying, and he was running slow to himself, but as a bolter round whizzed past his head leaving a good sized hole in the wall he decided to speed up ever so much. He ducked around a corner, opening a door on an unsuspecting trader, an ex sister of battle by the looks at her glared from a private trade agreement and before he could simply apologize, she turned, drawing her bolter and began firing at him as well. He quickly bent himself, twisting himself in a rather painful way to avoid his face riddled with holes-a small cost- and spun about onto all fours as he quickly blazed about. The sister was tenacious, and grabbed a mono-filament dagger and started after him. "Crap..." He muttered to himself as he shrunk as low as he could to the floor as possible and jumped into a bathroom. Thankfully it was for men. The few who were about gave the creature unwanted stares. Zivvi looked around and tried to put on a kind smile. The sister of battle and the guardsmen had blazed by in the meantime. He let out a sigh of relief as he had finally lost them. He quickly bid the men goodbye before they decided to give chase as well, or even shoot. He let out a happy sigh this time, chuckling lightly. His grey eyes flashed with a trickster essence. He enjoyed playing games, but he also was a man for hire. He checked the paper again, searching for the right ship or building.

Blu came to the table with two bottles of fungus beer and some red paint.

"Boss, whyz you paintin' yer gun red?"
"I needz me gun ta fire fasta. If red paint can make da ship fasta, why can't itz make me gun?" He continued putting another thick layer av paint on his gun.
"That'z smart, that iz."
"I know, thatz why I'm da Mekboy and youz da grot. Hur Hur Hur"

They were suppose to meet a fancy git in the back of the bar. He was willing to pay tons of money for whoever was willin' to do da dirty work. And just like the rest of the scum in this place, Red Rokkit and Blu Bomba couldn't say no to money. especially considering that within the past hour they spent at the Rax Refueling Station they had wasted all of there money on Squig fights, bottles of fungus, and red paint.

The gun was finally painted and Red had an itchy trigga finga just waiting to try it out.

"Letza go, Grot. We gotz sum killin' ta do"

Sauffte looked at the stack of prefabricated housing scrap sitting in the corner of his warehouse. The warehouse wasn't his per-se, it belonged to an elderly invalid who had hired his services in order to create some form of extended life beyond what was already available. Fortunately for Sauftte the old man could not remember anything for more than a month at a time and as such at the start of every month Sauftte was commissioned with the task of stretching the remaining life residing within the man. Sauftte never bothered with it since he had convinced the old man to bequeath him his possessions at the end of last month.
Walking over to the corner filled with scrap materials Sauftte picked up two pieces that were once structural supports to homes on a distant Hive world. The Ceramite within the supports is of too low quality to do anything particularly useful with in it's base form; but Sauftte had to create six sets of Carapace armour by tomorrow and deliver them to a finely dressed man at the back of a non-nondescript docking station. Sauftte sighed and started the arduous process of refining the Ceramite for use in the armour. Not caring what the armour would be used for, Sauftte only wanted to meet his buyer and find a way to exploit any weaknesses he might have.

Spoiler:

The Commissar stepped quickly from his private quarters to his improvised Command Deck aboard the Rax Refueling Station. The ship they arrived in was far too damaged for use, so he and his underlings made a scant living on the Station for services, randing from odd jobs mercenary work in the complicated climate on the claustrophobic vessel.

He strode into the Command Deck with an aura of power, and surveyed his squadron.

All that remained of his original force was a few dozen Guardsman, and he acted as their supervisor, though he lacked the training required to do so under less emergency conditions. Two long tables housed his consultants, those with rank just under his own, for purposes varied from domestic logistics to military strength.

He walked briskly to his Homeland Security adviser. He returned his salute and stated, "I've received reports that the Tyranid we captured for the Eldar job has escaped."

"Yes, sir," the Guardsman answered. "We believe-" he started, but he was cut off as the Commissar quickly drew his pistol and shot the officer.

"You," he said, pointing to another Guardsman in the hushed silence, "Take over his duties."

The Commissar had found little difficulty in adapting his battle protocol for more administrative duties.

"Listen up, men. This new trader is offering a job that could pay for our trip back to the Empire, so that we may fight in our Emperor's name once more. Do not disappoint me by losing it for all of us."

The meeting with their contact was soon, but first he had to get the Tyranid under control.

Spoiler:

A transport ship brought itself into port, twisting and turning itself towards the air locks with all the grace of a pack of drunken Stormboyz. The air lock that it docked to was damaged, but either this was a common occurrence or it was not damaged enough to cause major issues since no one working the port seemed to particularly care.

The screaming children, the belligerent Orks, nor the threats of violence were able to rouse Corbenik from his meditation, but being tossed around the ship as it tried to land was able to. He picked himself up as he prepared to leave the ship, gathering his few belongings.

At first the other passengers were rather shocked when a Farseer strode onto the transport ship, but it didn't take long for them to forget his presence. His people had insisted that he take a speedier means of transportation, or at least one that provided more dignity, but he refused saying that they will need all of their ships in case another raid was to come along.

As he exited the airlock and took his first steps into the space station, he knew that this station would have a large influence on his mission.

Spoiler:

The city was alive, vibrant, shifting. Kaharhaedros held his head trying desperately to shut out the voices, and the visions. Every soul represented a path, the options were daunting, like a storm raging behind his eyes. He leaned against a wall, and a path came bright and vivid into view. A creature, sharp and bright rampaging about within the building. Kaharhaedros followed the path in his mind, and found more people, friends, other exiles and compatriots. His mind was clear, Kaharhaedros tore around the building, moving as fast as he could, a graceful slender blur among the bustle of the city.

Talon lost interest in the creature he had attempted to swallow, it tasted like metal and pain. Neither he was incredibly fond of. Now he found himself empty of prey and he still hunger. This sparked an instinct that had been beaten out of him from the years of playing pet.

Rage.

His tentacles reached out and gripped around the crates and slung them against the walls. The air grew foggy with miasma. Boxes began to melt and more were shattered against the wall. He gave the room a couple of screams that could convince a puppy to kill itself just for good measure.

During his rampage the door opened and a new figure stood before him. The miasma tinkled away like a water facet losing pressure. The beast looked him over curiously. The new creature had a nostalgic smell about him. No smell wasn't right. Taste? Talon couldn't place it. Smell and taste were the only things he really cared no know about.

Kaharhaedros could feel the creature, sense it, hear it in his mind. It's voice was almost painful. A grating sound like a sour note pulled from an instrument. He felt what it wanted, food. He closed his eyes and followed the paths in his mind. After his path was clear he turned to the creature and willed it to follow him before he turned down a nearby hallway.

Talon felt a tug at his mind and it forced a growl out of him. He didn't want to follow but his body obeyed and drew itself after the curious tasting creature. It felt natural to follow them and the crates thanked him.

Spoiler:

[85674] - Initializing System Scan
[85675] - Correcting Flaws in Orbit Trajectory
[85676] - Object Detected Within Security Radius, Labeled [ 673 ]
[85677] - Scanning [ 673 ], energy emissions detected. Classified as [ Threat3 ]
[85678] - Beginning firing sequence, target : [ 673 ]
[85679] - Scanning last known coordinates, destruction confirmed.
[85680] - Resuming scanning pattern.
[85681] - Scan Complete.
[85682] - Starting Slave Processes.
[85683] - Beginning Interruptable Sleep for [ 1000 ]

[85732] - Sleep Interrupted, cause: [SCAN]-Warning
[85633] - Decrypting Scan Dump
[85634] - High Level Energy Emission Detected, event Labeled [ 1403 ]
[85635] - [ 1403 ] Classified as [ Threat7 ]
[85636] - Scanning for source of emission
[85637] - Found, Object detected on surface of nearby structure, Labeled [ 674 ]
[85638] - Analyzing Composition of [ 674 ]
[85639] - Employing OPMD[3] to search Database
[85640] - OPMD[3] returned NECRON, Classified as [ Threat8 ]
[85641] - Altering Orbit to provide optimal firing arc.
[85642] - Preparing ORBITAL-BOMBNUKEMENT armaments
[85643] - Entered optimal firing arc
[85644] - Beginning firing sequence, target : [ 674 ]

In some dingy pub several layers into the station, the air thick with smoke and chatter, a group of mercenaries and heretics jostled each other around a vidscreen. On it, a pompous rogue trader was listing out whatever goods he had brought back from a recent outing.

Suddenly, he shifted in demeanor along with the topic of conversation. He became harsher, more dictating in manner. He listed out a series of appointments for long-term ‘mercenary contracts’ for those that would be serving on his ship. “However,” he said, “I do have a short-term bounty that I am hiring out. One of my… pets has recently escaped. I will pay a significant sum in thrones to anyone that brings the beast back to me. It is of tyranid origin. You shouldn’t have any trouble finding it.” Suddenly he leaned toward the pict-recorder, his powdered wig leaning forward menacingly, “I want it returned to me relatively unharmed. If any one of you worthless sods kill the beast, I swear by the Emperor that I’ll flay you alive.” The Image cut-out, leaving the BSNet image in the center of the screen.

The mercenaries began to disband, scattering about to go gather whatever coin they could. As they turned around, most of them stopped in shock, and a few simply ran away. A space marine had been standing behind them the entire time. One, in fear, drew his weapon, only belatedly realizing his weapon would be useless against the white-armored figure. The marine reached over his shoulder and grasped the hilt of his blade. It was then that the first lance strike hit.

***
The Titan hung in space, powered, but comparatively inert. No one had paid the ship much mind, thinking it just another of the hundreds hanging in space. No one noticed the sudden firing of adjustment thrusters as the ship aligned its lance batteries with some unknowable point on the station. What others had thought was energy being used for lifesupport was instead shifted to the weapons batteries. Then it fired.

A beam of searing light connected the ship with the station for a fraction of a second, before blinking out of existence. In its wake, the station spewed slag and bodies from its many punctured layers. As the mortals continued to struggle to comprehend what was happening, the Titan loosed two more devastating lance barrages into the side of the station. It fired a fourth, only to have the lance shot dissipate on the finally activated void shields. The Station then began to respond in kind, launching defense measures into space and awakening the gunner-servitors in its turrets.
***

Suddenly, the world erupted into fire and light. The Marine was floating in the void, his armor glowing with heat as he spun in the chaos in the wake of the lance strike. He grabbed onto a nearby strut of semi-molten metal, the lenses of his helm glaring angrily out of the chasm opened in the Station and into space as the second and third lance strikes hit.

There was a sharp and sudden pain in Kaharhaedros' mind. A bright flash, a blinding, deafening, all ending flare. He crumpled to the ground his mind ablaze. The creature behind him slowly coming to his side looking confused. With great effort Kaharhaedros found another path. The only path. it was weak, dim. Barely a chance but all he had. He bolted to his feet, running. Willing the creature to follow him. It was surprisingly fast. In the distance the first column of light fell heavy on the station causing it to sway under Kaharhaedros' feet. He turned hard and leapt off the walkway into the darkness. He pushed his thoughts at the creature with all his will. 'Jump, follow me, Move, run, you have to follow me.' Finally a shadow crawled off of the railing above, made a silhouette by the light overhead as the second column connected with the station. Kaharhaedros rolled and landed with a hollow clang on an empty shipping container positioned just outside a dock. The creature landed hard beside him with a terrible howl, half in his mind half out, just as the hanger doors began to open.

Spoiler:

[85645] - Energy emissions detected, Classified as [ Threat10 ]
[85646] - Damage detected: Decks[ J, L, R, U ]
[85647] - Source is external
[85648] - Initializing Local Scan
[85649] - Damage source [ 271 ]
[85650] - Initiating defensive countermeasures
[85651] - Informing commanding officer [ 83564965 ]
[85652] - Awaiting response . . .
[85655] - There was no response
[85656] - Query vital status of officer [ 83564965 ]
[85658] - Status: Deceased
[85659] - Informing commanding officer [ 867436297 ]
[85660] - Awaiting response . . .
[85663] - There was no response
[85664] - Query vital status of officer [ 867436297 ]
[85666] - Status: Deceased
[85667] - Informing commanding officer [ 67296586 ]
[85668] - Awaiting response . . .
[85671] - There was no response
[85672] - Query vital status of officer [ 67296586 ]
[85675] - Status: Deceased
[85676] - Querying OPMD[1,2,3] for action
[85680] - OPMD[1,2,3] returned TACTICAL RETREAT
[85681] - Plotting course out of weapons rage
[85682] - Breaking from orbit

*Checking For Remaining Squad For Resurrection Protocols*
*Negative*
*High Priority User*
*Initiating Ever-Living Protocols*
*Successful*
Canoptek got up in a daze after being reduced to a pile of slag. He was glad that he was able to get reconstruct as he did not know the current condition of his tomb world.
He glanced around as the rest of his body was being reassembled, he saw nothing but slag and burnt metal which he expected after being hit with such force. Even the tyranid and strange eldar that had walk into the room were gone probably destroyed by the looks of his surroundings. Looking up towards where the blast had come from, he saw a ship flying away and drones following it. He would like to pay them a visit for giving him such a pleasant gift but his energy systems were still focused on repairing himself so he could not use his veil. He then looked down and cursed, his eldritch lance was damaged and he doubted it would work well if at all. But for now Canoptek needed to find a new place to hide and rebuild in peace, and found such in another warehouse in quadrant of the station.

Spoiler:

Blinding light, screams of pain, shrapnel flying everywhere. The station was in a state of chaos as everyone scrambled to save their significant others, their belongings, and their own skins.

Like the sail of a boat traversing a calm channel in a maelstrom, Corbenik continued to walk forward while following a path that he rehearsed multiple times on the trip to the station. He was unaware of why the station was being fired upon, or even what was firing upon it. He simply followed the path that he had seen in his scrying.

He took advantage of his current situation of knowledge, knowing he was approaching the end of what he had foreseen. He secured his Ghost Helm as he walked into the unknown. Whatever happened now, it was out of his control.

The wing of the Station inhabited by the Imperial Guardsmen was one of several pylons extending from the station's center for docking.

The Commissar and his retinue hurried down the pylon to hunt the Tyranid. When they reached the end of it, there was an incredible staggering force that jolted the floor. The Commissar braced himself on a wall brace used for shipping and looked back at his subordinates.

They had mostly fallen to the floor and were standing up when, a ways down the long tunnel, a bright light spilled in and laid waste to it. The vacuum of space sucked everything down towards it even at this distance, and all of the Guardsmen were sucked out. After a split second where he held on, even the Commissar was dislodged from his rest.

There was a dull pain in his head, on the back - as though he'd been hit with a brick. He opened his eyes and the blackness gave way to the scenery before him.

He was still in the Station, thankfully, and he had slammed into a blast door that slammed shut in time to save him.

His entire body felt numb. He'd just been thrown around like a ragdoll.

He tried to leave but felt something pull him. He looked back to see his left arm was crushed inside the blast doors. Now that he thought about it, he remembered some sort of overwhelming, dull pain radiating from his arm.

He looked around the empty loading area for help. Well, he was in a hurry. He drew his sword and, after a moment of finding a good angle to strike, made a cut just below his elbow where the bone was already broken, cutting off his left hand and lower arm. His blood spilled across the smooth flooring, and he began looking around for some emergency aid.

He had hardly begun treating his wound when he was interrupted by the sight of his prey off in the distance: the Tyranid Venomthrope. He leveled his pistol and was prepared to fire when he noticed another figure next to it - Eldar.

Everything made sense now. Clearly the Eldar had found it on their own and were fulfilling their agreement, though the Tyranid's escape was unplanned.

As they hurried in his direction, the Commissar straightened and tried to smooth out his uniform, except he had one less hand than he was used to and only succeeded in spreading blood over it.

He addressed the Eldar as he approached. "As you can see, we captured your specimen as per your orders and have had it delivered it to you. The bounty we - " but the Eldar kept walking past him, deep in thought, and the Tyranid floated past as well.

Spoiler:

The whole place seemed to be rocking and groaning over something Talon neither knew about or cared. While the other flesh creatures seemed to have trouble footing he had none thanks to the blessing of having no footing in the first place.

Still he dragged himself along solely because of the curious tasting creature's smell. It seemed to think running was a fun activity and he should join along. He didn't really want to, he was growing bored of all this but nothing could seem to stop him. Not even the smell of blood.

Blood.

He quite cared for that. He gave a yell towards the curious tasting one trying to communicate his want for it. He didn't seem to understand him however, simply rolling about and standing in front of opening doors. Talon have a grunt and tried something new. He sounded like a violin being played by another violin in slow motion so every note made you want to kill the player, or possibly yourself.

"Food."

They could see the tyranid up ahead. The only thing they had to deal with was getting it out of the eldar's hands and into their own. It seemed like an impossible feat until Red had an idea.

Red picked up Blu and started waving him in the air
"OI! 'ERES A NOICE PIECE A MEAT FOR YA!"
The tyranid turned toward the ork.
"DAT'S RIGHT, COME TA PAPA!"
The tyranid started heading toward them.
"NO BOSS! P-P-P-PLEASE, PUT ME DOWN!" squealed the Gretchin.
"DON'T WORRY, I GOTCH YA!"
the tyranid was approaching quickly and ready to attack the squirming green thing when suddenly the Ork grabbed an explosive out of the bag on his back and threw it at the tyranid.

BOOM!

The explosion was small and not that powerful, but it still caused the tyranid to go unconscious.
"Sees, Grot? You'z were nevva in any danga wut so eva. HUR HUR HUR!" The Gretchin let out a sign of relief.

The Mekboy knew that it wasn't much time before the tyranid regain consciousness so he began thinking of a plan to move it. But before he could do anything he was greeted with more friends.

"Eh, boss?"
"Yeah?"
"Weez got company"

The eldar was running their way followed by a one armed man.

"Jutz act like nottin 'appened. Leave all da talkin' to me."

Spoiler:

Canoptek watched as he saw the Eldar approach the Ork, He thought it was a strange meeting indeed and thought maybe they wont try to kill him on first sight like most other creatures. As he approached from behind the ork, Canoptek grasped his eldritch lance as he would need it if he was wrong.
"Greetings, young ones" said Canoptek
Suddenly he was faced by two angry stares from the eldar and ork, which he expected since his species had killed and taken many lives from all living races for the C'Tan.
" Now, Now, listen to me, The Necron have changed now, let me tell you the story."
The eldar face changed to one more accepting of Canoptek , however the ork looked as if he was about to call that infuriating wagh! , That is until the eldar got his attention and calmed him down.
" Thank you, wise eldar" Canoptek said to the eldar " My name is Canoptek..." and so Canoptek told the eldar and ork the story of the necron overthrowing their old "gods" and how the new necron politics had led him to be where he was now. He even showed him his damaged equipment and the C'Tan shard as proof. The eldar seemed to believe him and the ork was skeptical at the best, however that was good enough for Canoptek as of now.
"Now whats going on with this tyranid, I remember it slightly before I was hit by a orbital bomb-nukement."

The world cracked and turned black.
Familiar sounds and familiar smells all passed by.
Lingering for only a minute and then fading away. They all left something behind. A whisper. A voice.
A dream? No... wait. Yes.
Dreaming... how he hated it. Old smells. Old tastes. He didn't enjoy it.
The whispering rose to audible.
Feed.
Hunt your prey and feed.
Feed.
That voice. That tyrant voice left in his head.
He wished it quiet. It did not wish the same and become a roar.
Feed. Tear them apart.
Quiet.
FEED. CONSUME THEM.

Talon rose in a flurry of tentacles and wrath, the air grew heavy with his precious miasma. In an ungraceful movement he turned to face the voice that plagued him. His tentacles flailed and whipped.
"QUIET!"
No longer in the vast void of the severed hivemind. Now in the spaceport filled with fire and screaming and other loathsome things. Not the voice he turned to but the tasteless skeleton. He thought about it and decided that he still agreed with the idea of the tasteless thing shutting its hole that made noise.

Kaharhaedros moved with a great swiftness. Blindingly fast, the speed only a dark eldar could have. Moments after the beast hit the floor Kaharhaedros had dropped both the orks to the floor, and rolled them bodily past the dark figure. They underestimated the Tyranids strength, and without a viable way to communicate this was the only path that made any sense. "Oy! What was Dat fer?" Kaharhaedros spun and was standing between the skeleton being and the orks as the Tyranid stood up lashing out with it's tendrils. Kaharhaedros willed it "Calm" But the beast was frenzied from the explosion.

Spoiler:

Canoptek wished for the annoying tyranid to stop its rage so that he may continue his discussion with the ork and eldar. He raised his staff to quell the beast but it only fizzled when he tried to use it. Luckily it was made out of solid metal so he used it as a staff and Whacked the beast over the head. Unfortunately, although his strength was impressive as a necron to most other races, it wasn't enough and the venomthrope lashed out in anger. Canoptek underestimated the venomthrope's strength and speed and was launched into a nearby pile of crates.
Oy! stop dat! was the last thing Canoptek heard before losing active control to his body's auto repair.

Spoiler: