Noiratrom watched the proceedings, a lot still on his mind. Then, a mysterious presence seeped itself into the room. The cloaked figure crawled up to Noiratrom, breathing through its gasmask, causing a very loud noise. "How goes the project?" [b]"it advances, my lord..."[/b] The being spoke with a raspy voice. "Good. They must never know of this. Not yet."

[spoiler]o.o[/spoiler] [b]Meanwhile, Lupa sat at the Sisters of Battle's table, sharing stories with them, her eyes wandering to the beautiful form of Agnes from time to time.[/b]

The sisters of battle had very little presence at the party. Although it was a nice sentiment, mingling with chaos entities was utterly heretical. Agnes had only been there for the battle against Slaanesh, and had immediately returned to her quarters to pray for her purification.

[b]Lupa sighs and sits there, not sure what to do. [/b] "Should I go back? But I kinda what to see what happens here...."

[spoiler]hue poor lupa. Hm... I was wondering if I should bring my old Kell back.[/spoiler]

[spoiler]Which one? I can't remember how to spell his name, him?[/spoiler]

[spoiler]Yeah, Klastis, was it?[/spoiler]

[spoiler]No, that was Lizard's character I think[/spoiler]

[spoiler]Traliks! I think...[/spoiler]

[spoiler]Yeah! That's it![/spoiler]

[spoiler]Yeeyeeeyeee! Anyway yes, I was maybe thinking of bringing him back. But he would have had to have gone through some fuсked up shit.[/spoiler]

[spoiler]o.o What kind of shit?[/spoiler]

[spoiler]I'm getting ideas...[/spoiler]

[spoiler]o.o[/spoiler]

[spoiler]The Unsung hero. Deep within the ship, a sphere of violet energy bubbles up, releasing within it a warrior. For thousands of years, he had wandered through this dark, Galaxy... The shaded figure stood up on it's large limbs. And those thousands of years, he spent battling whatever the galaxy could throw at him. For every fight, a memento. For every army vanquished, a souvenir. For every enemy slain, redemption. Whatever the grim galaxy could push on him, he pushed back. Slowly, he opened his four violet eyes, one of them being marked by a deep, searing scar. They scanned the darkness. He lived a life, once. Somewhere else, beyond this realm, this universe, this time. He was brought here against his will. But he wouldn't let that defeat him. If something had brought him here to destroy him... they had failed. It had only hardened him. Made him stronger. The metal floor thundered as he stood up on his two heavy legs. Although milennia had passed, the man hadn't aged a day. He was stronger than ever, his muscles strong and lean. Eldar. Tyranid. Orks. Necron. Tau. Imperial. Chaos. He had fought it all. Sometimes alongside them. Sometimes against them. Never had he been thanked for his sacrifices. Some knew of him, of his legend. They had a nickname for him. As he walked, he looked at his four arms. Two of them, made from Necron metal after having lost them in a battle. His arsenal varied, containing trophies taken from his enemies. From space marine armour, he had made himself new protection. From the Tau, he had taken ranged weapons. From the Imperial Guard, he had taken heavy weapons. From the sisters of battle, Inferno weaponry. From the Eldar, Mighty witchblades, and their strange eldritch magic. From chaos, psychic powers had been gained. From the Tyranids, the pincer of a Carnifex was shaped into a sword. His body carried the scars of his long life of battle. But a life that never ended for him. On his back, he wore a long, torn purple cloak, with a hood. It was once the banner of something. The only thing he had maintained from his other life. His nickname was given to him by his ability to wield any weapon for any situation, regardless of the matter. He always had something for everything always an ace up his sleeve. They called him the Jack of All Trades. Traliks, the Fallen Kell.[/spoiler]

[spoiler]*Vaaxius instantly glomps him* [/spoiler]

[spoiler]lol. On that, I don't know how he would react. Well, time to copy that shit and slap it on the thread.[/spoiler]