WARHAMMER 40,000: A Thousand Tiny Suns (40k/Exalted Crossover!)

You sighed, looking at Kit. He gives you a look back that communicates paragraphs. You gesture to Crys. "Slow us down, lets try and talk."

"You sure?" she asked. "I mean...Clasat doesn't raid the tunnel gangs like Estasia but they're not exactly civilized."

"Just let me try and talk our way past this," you said, nodding.

"They're going to just try and extort us..." Crys muttered, her voice softening. "And if they do, I say we just blow our way through and leave them to lick their sounds." She grumbled. "We're in a hurry."

The airship slowed and came to a step with a gulf of about fifteen meters between the catwalk and you. All those emplaced weapons aimed - but none fired. You swung the hatch at the top of the airship open, clambering up a smallish ladder and sticking your head out, mask glinting in the arclights that blazed overhead. You lifted your hand and waved. "I'm not armed!"

"Good!"

A woman stepped up to the railing, planting a heavy boot on it. She wore a leather jacket with the sleeves torn away, revealing jagged and winding tattoos that ran along her muscular, scarred arms. She wore thick gloves that covered her fingers, which were planted on her hips as she glowered down at you - at least, you were fairly sure she was glowering. You had gotten better and better at reading the unmasked features of other people, and...well, she was throwing in a shoulder frown to go with her lips curving down. Her head had two curious attachments - a pair of jutting antenna that had been bolted to her temples, sweeping back and away like pointed ears above her natural ones, and her jaw had been replaced with a metallic augmeitc, glittering brightly in the harsh overhead lights. Her eyes were narrowed and she had an automatic crossbow pistol at both of her hips, within easy reaching distance

"We're just passing through," you said. "We don't mean any trouble to your...tribe?"

"The Free State of C8-92 is a fully organized representative democracy, not a tribe," the woman said. "I'm Arms Coordinator Skavik." She spat over the side of the railing. "And we help to maintain and police this portion of the tramline-"

"The void she does!" Crys shouted from inside the airship. She moved to glower up past your ankles at you. "Tell her to stop that heresy talk right away - the Octet are the only ones divinely mandated by the Great Maker to provide and protect for his body as he sleeps the sleep of the ages!"

"...you got someone else in there?" Arms Coordinator Skavik asked, frowning. "Or are you speaking for your party, spider?"

"I- uh, Spider?" you asked.

She mimed a wriggly motion with her hand. "Eight legs."

Crys growled. "That's an absurd analogy. For one thing, one leg would be larger, better, smarter, more well educated-"

You squirmed up and tried to half close the hatch, muffling some of Crys' words as you called out. "No, uh, I'm not from the Octet! My name is 41-22, and I'm from beyond the body of Autocthonia."

The entire catwalk started to laugh. Arms Coordinator Skavik stepped away from the railing, turning around and spreading her hands. "Well, boys! Looks like we got ourselves a mythological creature here!" she said. "She's from Creation itself - and she looks like an Estasiat bootlicker!" She turned back. "Let me guess, Creation also has bread lines and order and a boot to the face, so the spiders are all totally right and justified in everything they do, hmm?"

"Well, kinda?" you asked. "If by...Creation you mean the rest of the galaxy."

"This is getting less fun," Skavik said, turning back to face you, shaking her head. "Creation's where you go when you die in all the old stories - to live in a place where food just grows from the ground and water falls from the ceiling without you needing to do anything. A world without machine spirits you have to fear and worship and without spiders crawling around everywhere, taking your children, cramming them into reeducation camps, fastening soul-trackers to their fucking heads, then measuring them on past lives instead of on what they do, right here and fucking now." She glowered down at you. "So you can see why you joking around here gets me only so far."

You blinked, then looked down at the hatch. Crys looked a bit chagrined, biting her lip. She didn't quite refute Skavik's words - but she did look a little guilty.

You looked back at Skavik. "Well, the Imperium would never do that," you said, nodding firmly. "Not unless you were heretics, or consorting with xenos, or didn't accept the Emperor into your heart. Or missed your tithe."

Skavik spat again, in lieu of response.

You coughed. "We're not here to fight, no matter what the Octet has done to your people. We're traveling on to an...a big thing that spits our orichalcium."

"Yeah, we know it," Skavik said. "We skim some of our orichalcium off it sometimes."

"Oh? You do?" you asked. "How?"

Skavik snorted. "We'll let you fly on. We're not going to give you state secrets."

"State," Crys muttered under her breath. "A barely functional collection of huts and lever-pullers don't count as a state, tell me another one, state."

You rubbed your chin, then glanced down. Kit had moved into place beside Crys and his bright, common as dishwater purple eyes, were looking up at you. He had a little knowing smile on his face, like he already knew precisely what you were going to say. You felt an annoying flutter of butterflies, eager and excited at him.

"Anyway, unless you got a horse to show us, oh Creation-Girl, then you can get on flying," Skavik called out.

---
[ ] Offer to trade your skills for information on the Glorious and Most Divine Smelter of the Eternal Maker
[ ] Show them Gitta, to prove you're not with the Octet (to get information on the Glorious and Most Divine Smelter of the Eternal Maker)
[ ] Just ride on - this is an animus you're far too late to fix
[ ] Write In

Health: Fine
Anima: Dim
Willpower: 4/5
Personal Motes: 13/13 | Peripheral Motes: 28/28 (Committed Motes: 5)
Limit: 1/10 (Trigger: Being stymied by indulges around her)
XP: 5 | Solar XP: 6
Major Projects: 0/5
SXP: 21 | GXP: 36 | WXP: 11