Ork N Krieg 2.0 Thread 10: Story Gubbinz for da humie gits

Flimflam the Warham is by far the worst Total war so far, Shogun two or Rome 2 with Radious are the best newer gen games, mind you it took them 2 years to get Rome in a playable state

(Ogryn thread not bothering linking the last post this time as its all up to date.)

You sit in da big table, given your expert negotiatin skills and given you krumped plenty of chaos and orks in your time, you were sent as a um...taktikul advisor. Ya got to take Fifteehate too cause she never got to go to a big meetin like dis before and it be educashul. Rockchewa is dere as well, da ork's swallowing entire ration cans with a grin. "Dis some good dirt mate, ya gotta try dat."

Fifteehate tilts her head a little in dat way she does when disgusted. "That ration is supposed to be soup."

You look at da room, ya see one of da catachans, lookin awfully glum ova der, dere is this red girl in da fancy arm... oh its one of dem sisters. Boo. Da girl caught your mean look an is, okay dat was a better mean look you oughta stop.

You wave at Rusty, da engiseer turned retinue memba lookin rather sheepish for a man with no face and sitting next to him Thirteeun look like someone stole his freeze cream, fingers twitching on the desk.

Also dere is da burny man, the commissah whispering to his blind companion who stifles a laugh.

Den da Colonel walks in, der black armor visible through a great cloak that is mostly hole in da front, the krieger staring at the retinue.

"Review, all members accounted for?" The colonel intoned as da burny boy nodded.

"Yup, all tidy in a box."

"Good." The Iniquisisah walks into the tent, da gassy mask strapped to her hip and her greatcoat torned for da metal arm, the Inquisitorial rosette inlaid on da shoulderpad. "Apologies for the deception, I don't make my position known until its actually relevant." The inquisisah frowned. "Which it now is. Aerugo, picture 38 please."

Rusty nodded as da table shimmered, a picture of a giant ork visible, covered in minor bullet holes and a bloody seeping eye. "This is Kaptain Bullettoof as our servos last spotted, as of the two days from acquiring the axe he has now grown a meter aller then before and now is bigger then a dreadnought. You frown as you point to its purply pistol. "Dats da mean git's gun, why he got it."

"Plucked dat from da pointy pansies." Rockchewa said, ration can crumpling between his teef. "Plucked it straight from the skivvy we rescued dat guv from."

"What I am concerned about is not the pistol it is the axe." The Inquisisah pointed to the bleeding axe drenching the floor. "Sister Mavile what have you discovered."

The woman coughed in her her helmet before reading a data slate. "Unfortunately the Order Pronatus stationed here were the first to go during the Govenor's fall during this place but a recovered slate pieces some of the things together." The woman touched the table, an da axe in da picture got bigger.

"That axe was recovered in a space hulk dating to the horus heresy. The spacemarines who recovered the artifact were unable to destroy it with melta fire and so transported the axe alongside several purity seals in order to transfer it to someone more capable of destroying it." The sister looked up. "Guessing that referred to the inquisition."

The Inquissah swore. "That treacherous swine must have never sent the order, we never got any reports of the axes presence. That doesnt explain why the axe didnt show up during the actual war."

Yo shrugged. "Its a big axe, dey probbably can't lift it." The others turned to you. "Wha? Whenever I fought chaos only da real special ones got to use da creepy stuff, any time da smaller heretics picked it up dey got eaten."

The sister nodded. "The abhuman is correct, during our cleansing of the false idols the symbols predominately found were of the prince of excess. The axe appears khornate."

/creativewriting/ board when? Last thing we need is you lot becoming the new quests.

"Correction," Fifteehate pipes up. "Unit is named Thudd, not abhuman."

The sister tilted her head. "You named it after a gun?"

"Anyway."The Inquissisah interrupts. "That explains why the accursed thing is there, but what can we do about it."

"My sisters say that reinforcements are to arrive within two days." The blind man says, fingas clutchin a fancy staff. "It is advised that so long as their ship is not operational we must merely survive."

Thirteeun clicked, rebreather rasping. "Your witch friends don't know whats in that vault, if he cracks that safe anymore he'll probbably have access to a ship. Presuming that axe doesnt start giving him wings or other abberations."

The Inquisah sighed. "Corporol Harmond you fought it, whats the chances of taking it down?"

Harmond frowned. "It litterally swatted away our las guns, the only thing that hurt hit was Misty's bayonet. Id just go with artillery."

Fifteehate looked at the knife wounds on the orks face. "Inquiry, you said Misty?" The krieger pointed to a cut. "Those are Guilt pattern, why does a Devil have a krieg knife."

Harmond sighed. "Girl was a grenadier, long story. The point is that ork just got stronger the longer it went."

"Silly umies, orks get big when dey win fights."

"And so do khorne's champions." The inquisisah muttered. "If we take to long we may end up dealing with a full daemon incursion here."

Thats all I have for today, time for bed.

We hold the line

What happened to the guys whose stories we accually want to read?

.....fucking orks.

The ork stole them, we must give them loot before they are returned.

What if some of us want to read all the stories?

Yeah sure, but Mimikyu has spammed the threads dangerously close to a /quest/

Better than the threads sitting completely dead while we wait for everyone else to come back

58 corrected a bolter bitch....she is now confirmed best friend. Would dig with in a trench/10

I want some variety, not that MyNameisMimikyu is bad, but its a bit annoying that he is the only one around lately. We all came here before for Bataavi, I want more Bataavi.

I get a vague feeling that he is discouraging other people by taking up so much space.

Agreed. Him and the Cog and Krieg guy are why I'm here, not the others (they're ok, just not my scene). Hope they come back sometime soon.

Ok i think it's time to prepare a blood ritual to bring them back.

I can cut my updates to weekly or something if people want.

Pretty sure it wont help but whatever.

Your fucking stupid

First off, You are. You're.

But he's right, , I've had an idea that I want to write. But it's not Mimikyu's fault.

Heck, they're making me WANT to post my story.

My only problem is I drive a Semi as part of a team for a living. My chances to do write are... Slim.

Now admittedly, that's me; buy I think it's a little juvenile to think "Oh no, this guy's telling a really good story! Better not interrupt it with my shitty one." As that's the only reason I can see not to contribute.

But that's just my opinion.

As voidanon once brought up, thats what the post quotes are for. It keeps messhed stories from getting jumbled looking.

Plus if it helps I have consistently only posted at around... I'll say 3 AM my time. So if you want to avoid messing any story I posted you can just wait for the morning or afternoon and post then.

It' was just a thought, I've more or less given up on these threads anyway.

Please don't give up on the thread user, and please don't take out whatever frustrations I may have caused you on other writers. I know I've been abysmal about updating recently, and I understand that this may have caused some anons to give up on me and whatever hopes they had of a conclusion to the story. And I don't blame anyone who has given up on love and krieg, but it does make me sad, because it means I have failed to uphold my end of things. So I'm asking you to please not give up, and I'm going to make you a promise.I can't update right this second, but I will update tonight before I go to bed if I have to stay up till two in the morning to do it, and I will return to daily updates, and that is a promise.

You live. Good to see. Been wondering what was up. Do your best (as always), just try to give us something, maybe a "I'm still alive guys" post every few days? At least a few of us have been losing hope of seeing you or Proctor ever again.

Proctor was around a few days ago though he even posted one of the threads.

Hey, don't let him get to you. You do you. I'd rather you take forever to do something you're happy with, than to slap-dash something you'll regret later. (I've done that before)

'Course, I'm still following Planefag, so maybe my judgements a bit off.

>'Course, I'm still following Planefag, so maybe my judgements a bit off.

Explain user.

Kys.

...What the hell does that mean?

No seriously, its a thread. It ends when it hits 310 posts so a new one is made.

There is no user input and "Write faggotry on 40k" preceedes me by several years.

Do you go on general threads and go "Hey Pathfinder your getting awfully questy here?"

Like as a guy who actually RUNS a quest no, this is nothing like a quest.

Quests dont even spam that much in a individual level, they only got spammy because everyone and their autistic dog made one.

Until you see a shit ton of 40k story threads I don't get the dig.

KANE LIVES!

I feel like a dick now, sorry everyone. I'll go back to lurking.

What I meant was that your writing with the present tense and first-person perspective and the whole rolling up a order of the Sisters of battle it was heading in the direction of becoming more of a quest than a regular story.

But disregard me, people like your stuff and I'm just an asshole complaining.

Oh okay no I can see that, I do most of my writing in actual quests so you arent wrong in that my stuff reads like that.

Though "Roll a regiment" threads existed before, I was just hoping that we can do those to fill time between stories.

As stated before I can cut down my actual posting if people wanted. I keep the pace mostly to keep a record (And hopefully giving people something to talk about) and if people want the threads to last longer I can stop eating up that space and space my updates up a bit.

Well, don't cut it down just because of me, like I said I'm just an asshole complaining and you are helping to keep these thread alive.

But that dwarf trailer was so cool...

Well its not like your the only one who complained.

Who is gonna be the sacrifice this time?

Planefag (formerly Demetrious) is a quest runner, known for taking cute amine girl shows and turning them on their heads. His current quest, Kan-Colle quest, which was about a trumped up Cap. Turned ship-boy summoner, last run about Jan 12th. Before that? June of last year. But he's also the guy who popularized 'bouncing' in Veeky Forums's vocabulary, had the MC of his current quest fight off Yakuza with a cane sword he didn't know he had (but that the players had guessed about), and managed to 'make' a P-61 land on a carrier. In a storm. Spacebattles has his current quest transcribed somewhere

Thats rather tame imo. I did a Lot of weird.

Bump

What the fuck is this thread even

A drunk guardsman and a ork chatting about their family lives.

mostly people waiting for the writefriends to do something

The Discourse.

Bump from nine

You're a hero Mimi

One Day: pastebin.com/embed_js/64EeM2WG

As his vision began to fade Theta could make out dozens of red beams stabbing into his attacker but they had no effect “Must be combat chems,” Theta calmly thought to himself. He stopped struggling, he only hoped the Emperor would accept his sacrifice and forgive him, for everything.

The arm seemed to grow weaker, Theta opened his eyes to discover it was dissolving. It looked like white ashes coated the arm at first, but then they spread and lit on fire. Fire that produced no heat. Theta used his legs to push himself away and the burning arm came with him. From the ground he watched the marked one run around the trench, his comrades fleeing from him as if he were diseased. The armless man, now covered in white patches and flames, fell to his knees. After what seemed an eternity he imploded and there only remained a pile of ash. The noises of fighting died down. Muffled breathing filled the trench, the survivors stood in a ring around the ashes.

+Missed me?+

He almost did not mind hearing the voice, the voice he only heard. She was standing among a squad of grenadiers who shifted uneasily beside her. She gestured towards them. “They destroyed the stubber nests but they won’t admit that I helped. You're a real gentleman compared to them.”

“Danke frau psyker.” Theta tried to convince himself that he did not mean it. That not enough oxygen was going to his brain. The survivors behind Theta halfheartedly mumbled their thanks, they were still transfixed by the pile of ashes.

The support wave arrived and engineers began repairing the trench. Quartermasters sorted through the fallen, separating the living and dead. The Captain hopped in the trench and began issuing orders. He spotted Theta.

“Where is your squad corporal?”

“They are being looked for, sir.”

“Don’t stand there with your Gattin then.” He began to walk away but turned to face Theta again. “Disgusting behavior.”

Ah kriegers, the classic dicks.

The Witch started cackling. A real ghastly sight, Theta thought. In the dark her face was all teeth and gleaming green eyes. Her dark hair was loose and it flowed over her grimy coat. The wires were easy to see.

“I will escort the little corporal to his squad. Don’t worry, I won’t distract him.” She would not stop laughing.

Theta really wanted to whip someone, it was a shame Private Beta was gone. The Witch took his hand and escorted him down the trench. Engineers were excavating fallen dugouts and the quartermasters were laying the wounded out on canvas sheets. Other sheets were occupied by exhausted guardsmen who staggered to them and collapsed. Others simply lay in the dirt. Theta saw little difference between them and the bodies.

+The Captain thinks we are lovers.+ Theta risked a glance and saw that her face was nearly shoved against his mask. +Such a dirty mind, he imagines us rutting in your cot like animals while all the others sleep. He has no way to prove it. That's why it keeps him up at night.+ The corporal was nauseated. He changed the subject.

“There will be a counter-attack. The probability of survival is very slow.” Several masked faces in the trench turned to Theta, wondering why he was talking to himself. The Witch made a face at him.

+This is why you see things every morning. Being in a regiment that has “Death Korps” in its title is not good for the nerves apparently.+

“Give me a status update on my watchmaster,” Theta was hissing at her, “How is the rest of my squad?”

She suddenly became serious. +Watchmaster Phaesta is in a nearby dugout and he’s not doing very well.+

“Wounded?”

+A mental breakdown is a more accurate description+

In that moment Theta finally realized why drinking was the favored pastime of the Imperial Guard. He was taught that every problem could be solved if enough force was applied. They never mentioned any of this nonsense happening.

Looks like shippery is starting to happen.

Who knew that Theta was turned on by dissolving men.

Some small part of me wants to screech autistically about Kriegers canonical hate of psychers, but I shall refrain from going full autismo.

Mate that entire story is about theta hating her.

She had to save his life like 4 times for her to kinda sortof secretly be glad she saved him.

>Started reading this five minutes ago
>Reached "It was when the hole began to be filled in that the situation truly turned tragic. A fine pair of boots were going to be wasted on a corpse."
>Remember why I like the Kriegers so much
>Wonder what the fuck is wrong with me to like these clockwork soldiers so much
>mfw

The Weekend Smut Thread circlejerk without the smut.

Im going to bump from seven and post some short Guardsmen thing. Sorry.

(This is the waifu thread, as is tradition)

The sergeant woke up with a groan and pain everywhere. "Ugh fuckin hell."

"Profanity in the emperor's place of holy healing breaks rule XLV-VII of the Lectitio Divinitatus and requires a tithe of 3 thrones to the Ministorum." The resident sister hospitaller said moving a jar to the sick man's bed without even glancing up from her holy documents.

"I am not going to pay any fu-bleedin tithe." The Sergeant said, hastily correcting himself as the lady placed a chainknife on the table next to the jar. Richand tried to put a hand on his temple to nurse his aching headache only to remember that he doesnt have one anymore.

Blinking through the haze of pain most of the past day came back to him, the Misty's stupid bush armor, the vault, that fuckin (he can swear in his thoughts) ork and his crazy axe. Now he is missing his arm and his side is cold... wait why is his side cold?

Richand ripped his blanket as he leaped backwards with a curse. "Fucking warp!" The sergeant said staring at the stiff form of a familiar lunatic lying right next to him, Misty decked in a full armor kit because of course she was.

"Nine thrones." The hospitaller said not looking up. "I see you met your bed mate. Your squad mate insisted that for moral purposes that the two of you would heal quicker if you slept together."

Richand sputtered as Misty sat up. "Greetings sir, I see the treatment has been as swift as Mary predicted."

Richand glared at the sister, who refused to dignify the glare with actually looking up from the book before turning back to Misty. "What, perchance did Mary tell you."

The krieger nodded, giving a salute. "Sir, the theory proposed was that as blood flows quicker through warmth, body contact will increase the flow of oxygen and thus ensure enhanced medical progress. This theory was confirmed by Corporal Harmond and as the leading officer at the time and put in place by Sister Agotha of the Order Hospitaller.

I've actually been keeping the dickery pretty mild so far. Dead Men Walking is where the best examples of dickery are.

Governor Hanrik did nothing wrong

Richand gave the Hospitaller his best glare, the kind that made bloodletters turn and run. The Hospitaller, a aging woman in brown rags with glasses thick enough to block a lasbolt, stared back unimpressed. "Why" The sergeant questioned slowly lest to increase his debt. "Did you believe anything my squad mates told you."

"Well darling, it certainly did the trick, your girlfriend there woke up only a few hours prior and recovered from her surgery remarkably quickly. In fact I have never seen a Kriegling quite as lively as when she woke up, even the ones who aren't under medical attention.

"Yeah I bet she was." Richand muttered as she noticed that, for once, the krieger was dressed rather sensibly, green fatigues covering her body rather then a greatcoat or bush, a vest to hold her rebreather and grenades was worn over that, shovel slung on her belt. Richand had to admit without the stupid greatcoat and other ridiculous nonsense she was almost kinda, in the right light maybe a little not entirely horrible to look at except not really because that was a stupid thought and he hated himself a little for having though tit. "Why are you dressed differently."

The krieger thought. "Unit was informed that for morale purposes soldiers in other regiments would be rewarded for being wounded in battle or successfully fulfilling orders. Nonsensical but to provide camaraderie unit has deigned to squad's suggestion of loadout redistribution as suitable reward." The kriger tilted her head. "Was the strategem effective, does my new clothes swell you morale."

The sergeant shoved a fistful of bills in the jar. "Here's a 100 thrones, I'm paying this tithe further."

At the end of the tirade the sergeant still owed a additional 16 thrones.

I'm keeping it short and fluffy today to be easy on the eyes and easy on my ability to sleep. Later everyone.

Fuck you. This much adorable and funny can't end this soon. Thanks, I'm looking forward to the next chapter.

Bait. Kys

"Yeah yeah, good to see you. Glad to see you're on your feet again, and I'm fine thanks." The man said quickly. "There, now that the niceties are out of the way, about that card game."

"In case you haven't noticed Koenraad I'm in the hospital. I doubt they'll let me out for a game of cards" Rochas bantered back.

"Ah come on sarge" Gelen said. "It's not like you're bedridden any more. I'm sure you could get out for a night."

"Somehow I doubt that." Rochas replied and Gelen's face fell ever so slightly, his grin shrinking as the corners of his mouth pulled back down, and Rochas felt like a bit of a heel. Koenraad was just trying to be nice and include him after all. Even if it was pretty unlikely that the medical officers in charge of his treatment would allow it that didn't mean he needed to shoot the man down like that. "But that doesn't mean I can't ask." He said quickly, and was pleased to note Gelen light up a bit.

"Great" the man responded, and then he released Rochas and stood their expectantly.

Well now he needed to ask someone. An orderly wouldn't do, and he didn't see any of the doctors. The sergeant slid himself into his bed and then said to Gelen "Go and find the Medicae for me. He should be around here somewhere. Tell him I need to speak with him if he's not too busy."

"Sure thing sarge" Gelen said, and then he quickly walked away, moving just barely shy of jogging. Once he was gone Rochas lay back on his cot to wait. He shot a glance over to Baiman's bed, but the one armed man wasn't there. Must have still been out eating or something. He'd have to try and get him included as well.

It took longer than he had expected it would for Gelen to return with the Medicae. Fortunately this meant that when he saw Gelen and the Medicae approaching he knew what he was going to say.

"Sir, Trooper Gelen says that you require me" the Krieger said as she stood by the side of his bed. "What is the nature of the problem?"

"It is an issue of moral" Rochas replied. He felt pretty bad about manipulating her like this, but he told himself it wasn't really a lie. Technically this was an issue of moral, his and Gelen's moral to be precise. "My presence is required at an activity necessary for the maintenance of moral. But, it takes place late in the evening, and continues well beyond the point in time I would normally be required to return here for the night. I need to be released temporarily to attend."

"Understood" She said. "Please produce the written copy of the order mandating the event and your presence there so that I may present it to the chief medical officer and have you released."

And now my promise is fulfilled, though it is less than I would have like to give, and it is nearly four in the morning and I have to be up and out the door before eight. So I really gotta go sleep now. See you all tomorrow.

So I think the power company is finally working g on my street. I can see their warning lights through the tree line.

Once I get power back I plan to get writing.

Great. I gotta admit that you, Batavi and Proctor are the only reason I'm still here.

...

Hnnng, to cute.

Oh sweet Emperor....someone is getting shot.

Good sleep Batavi.

The lifedebt has been paid.

Bump from nine.

To prevent further bumps does anyone want to do another regiment roll? Just for the sake of it this time.

I just wanted to say thanks for keeping things alive mate. I at least am grateful for you holding down the fort.

Okay...you keep saying that shit like no one else likes it, just because we want more of the guy that started the thread. Piss off.

I think its less the fact people say "More Bavari" and more "good save on that bump"

Id rather this not turn into a fight I get that my stories are relatively bland I hope to improve with time but that means that as I am now I'm just a inexperienced writer working heavily on dialogue here except for that one chase with the ork and even that wasn't the greatest.

bump from 8

Don't respond to trollin bro, I like your stories, and also appreciate your bumps.

Keep writing.

To each his own. I like all the stories written so far.

Keep writing bro, I like your multiple stories

Bump

We need to figure out more things to do between shenniganry

Kidnap a drawfag or two

If I knew drawfags i wouldnt have paid for my quest picture.

What else we can do, talk about old 40k stories, I did reread Grendel's knife recently.

Well that was a poor plan bump from 8 again.

Lets just talk about random 40k stuff we've done. Once I made a knight house based on monty python, its even worse then it sounds.

I would talk but have classes in the morning. Regardless keep up the excellent writefaggotry, don't let the lurkers keep you down.

Oh no as mentioned before I know my story isnt for everyone, especially since im a little goofy 40k.

Im just trying to figure out things for the daytime. The roll was fun but maybe thats a "Save it for another thread" thing? I also think only 3 people particerpated including me.

Powers finally back, although the internet isn't. Luckily my phone can be hotspotted. Currently writing, shouldn't be too long.

Whatever keeps the thread from succumbing to page 10, and keeps people looking at it. So what if only three people rolled, it added a bit to the thread, and might have gotten some interest from others. Sure there is an abundance of lurkers who poke their heads in to read updates from time to time. Was what I was before I started writing. Just a silent observer who believes story time is best time.

Fair's fair though I'll be writing soon so the points moot for today.

Not even 24 hours after encountering them, the Kriegers had effectively ruined Immo’s life. She had been given two days ship leave, and she planned to make use of it. Dotted throughout the ship were places for wary voidsman to drown their worries, fears, and sorrows in an assortment of alcoholic drinks. Depending on the rank and how many thrones they were willing to part with, a voidsman could sample liquors from a hundred worlds, or rot their liver with an array of illicit distilled spirits brewed in the bowels of the ship. Immo was more a fan of the local flavor.

Downing her third glass with a shudder and a gasp, she set it back on the table gently, tilting it towards the servitor tending the bar. “‘Another.” Came a ragged demand. The servitor mutely inserted a tube into the glass, and filled it to the brim before beeping twice. “You have reached maximum tolerated intoxication.” She just snatched the glass and began draining it. It tasted like a mixture of promethium, plasma coolant, and rusted iron.

“I’ll let you know when I’ve reach it, you bug eyed bucket of bolts.” It was a hollow claim, as the servitor just stumbled away to serve another patron. She was getting the odd glance from the handful of off shift crew, her footlocker resting at her feet. Being reassigned was either a blessing or a curse onboard, depending on what direct you were moving up the chain of command. Considering she was attempting to commit suicide via liver failure got the rumor mill going on what she did to get demoted.

She only listened partially to the stage whispers all around, more content to let the whirling maelstrom of thoughts in her head get subdued by enough Ol’ Eight Rings to fuel a boarding torpedo. She picked through the pieces that remained, pulling out the vital parts she needed. There was no way she could properly teach an entire regiment on her own in the art of zero gravity combat. Too many ins and outs, tips and tricks to turn into a training course. They didn’t even train the marines onboard. Either you already knew how, or were smart enough to learn on the fly. She had a feeling that improv wasn’t one of the Kriegers strong suits.

As she fished out a lho-stick and lit the paper on an exposed halogen bulb, she began putting together a plan. She was most familiar with small unit tactics, and that’s what she’d focus on. She’d pick out the best and brightest to train, who could then form their own crews to train, and so on down the line. This would both limit her interactions with the majority of the Kriegers, and give her a chance to find a group of Kriegers she found tolerable to be around all the time. She couldn’t help but laugh at that thought. A tolerable Krieger. She’d be more likely to find a laid back commissar.

As she pushed away from the counter and headed back into the labyrinth of crew corridors, she began the first steps towards the cargobay. Still intent on her time off, she figured she could get some work done in the meantime. If she was going to find a group of Kriegers to trust enough to watch her back during boarding action, she’d have to get a feel for their personalities, or lack thereof. As she stumbled down the halls, savoring the unsteady reeling of her body as the alcohol played tricks on her, she felt her mind and body detach, once again trusting her feet to take her where she was needed as she recoiled into her own thoughts.

She unconsciously danced her way down the corridors, twirling past others in awkward stumbling gait, humming a few bars to a catchy little tune she heard the ratlings singing as they loaded her boarding torpedo into a macrocannon. She had passed a few dozen of them in her shambling gait, the grey jumpsuited crew quickly getting out of her way, not wanting to catch the eye of any superior officer. Many were children of the ship, who would be born, eventually breed, and finally die without ever feeling the pull of a planet’s gravity. They were the people of the ship. Some could trace their lineage back to the first crew, thousands and thousands of years ago.

The endless sprawl of maintenance corridors, forgotten chambers, network of pipes, and the thin space between the hull and the ship was their domain. They could be found everywhere you looked, their ship issued grey jumpsuits replacing the rags and tattered fabric they once were known for. They had been expected to work for nothing more than the air they breathed and the calories they consumed, their labors so basic even the most primitive feral worlder could be taught it in the span of a day. Or so it was thought.