Thal gets up and walks up to Crownrule. " I don't like to brag, I've never had much of an opportunity to formally practice swordplay, though I have trained with some of the greats and am their legacy. So yes, I am a good swordsman"

Thal pauses

"You say you wish to speak with the council, which council are you referring to?"

"Ah you must forgive me, in my haste I was not thinking, I wish to seek council with....perhaps you can handle it though... I would just like to clear it all up before i am deployed......you see i cannot go to the tower, i have urgent matters that must be attended to in the khanid kingdom, my late mother is ill and has asked to see me, my father died while I was at an early age and all she has left is me," Crownrule explains, when all of a sudden his neocom starts to light up "oh uhhh excuse me for a moment" He walks to a empty corner and opens the neocm and finds a message from his mother, it reads-
My son.... I am feeling better and am expected to recover in a few days im sorry about the false alarm and did not wish to alarm you.....I love you and be safe you may be immortal but it doesnt mean you cant die. Crownrule returns back to thal, "it appears the matter has fixed itself.....im sorry for wasting your time sir but since I have brought it up I ask of you to teach me the ways of the sword, I would like to expand myself in the knowledge of the sword so that I may not only able to kill my enemies afar but from upclose as well.....if you will take me as your pupil" Crownrule swallows and it gets stuck in his throat, he tries not to cough and forces the saliva down, he looks at thal hoping he doesnt get berated by him.

Crownrule starts walking toward the exit, once he's outside he opens his neocom and places an order for a pair of training swords. He closes his neocon once he's finished he decides to go back to his quarters. He walks in and heads toward his bed where he slumps down on it and passes out. The next morning Crownrule gets up and grabs his Imperial CRW-04 scrambler rifle off of his table and inspects it.
"Hmmm....I just cleaned you yesterday *sigh* guess i have to do it again," Crownrule says before getting his cleaning kit, he sits there for about an hour cleaning it, not missing an inch of the gun. "There, now your clean......now if only you could stay that way." Crownrule places his gun back on the table and heads toward his bed again where he will sleep for another three hours. Crownrule wakes up and looks at the time. "Still have twelve hours before i have to go to the IGS......what can i do to kill some time?" Crownrule looks around and finds nothing, he looks at the swords he just purchased and and thinks. "Perhaps I should go early and try to practice so I dont embarrass myself" He picks the swords up from the wall and heads out his door and toward the IGS Gymnasium. Once he is inside he pulls out the sword and makes slicing motions, then he tries to twirl them and drops one on the ground. He heads over to pick the sword back up when he notices someone is standing behind him.

"I've had a hard life but the Classiarii and the crusade give me purpose"

Thal Vadam, please report to the front office

"But, the reason I'm here now is, well, to say goodbye."

The words rolled off his chest with a heavy exhale, pausing for a brief moment before speaking again.

"There's people out there, who want me dead. Permanently. I don't want to tell you more about it, I can't. The point is that, due to this, I have to leave. For good."

Denak cleared his throat and drank from his cup again, to sooth his anxious nerves.

"There's no way I can fight these people, I can only evade them. I've already ditched all my clones, the body you're looking at right now is the one I was born with. I've cut off contact with everyone I knew, and I'm going to be leaving for my hideout, live alone for a while."

After that blurt of an explanation, Denak drank the rest of his tea, carefully setting it down on the office desk. Getting all that off his chest did help out a lot, but in the end he was still saddened by what he had to do.

"I've, already shut down my businesses, given my final goodbyes to others. You are the last one I say goodbye to before I leave. You might not see or hear for years, maybe never again even. So I, wanted to bring you something."

With that, he dug his hands into his robes, digging out for that odd metal shard he had trouble in the security station with earlier. It was a fairly large chunk of tungsten, black and irregularly shaped, the distinct golden color and the smooth patterns could be distinguished underneath the charred surface. It was a shard from the Adamance, Kador's HAV used in Blood Hunt. At the back of the shard was Denak's name, hand-carved with traditional Intaki letters. It may have been just a piece of metal taken from a long gone vehicle, but to Denak it was a symbol for all the things him and Kador had gone through together. He hoped Kador would feel the same way.

"I salvaged it from the wreck in Blood Hunt", was Denak's only explanation for the origins of the shard, feeling it in his hands before placing it across the table right in front of Kador.

Vyzion runs his hands over the etchings at the entrance to the PCT PR offices. His eyes drift towards the plaque on the right... and his stomach grumbled. Stifling a grin, he walks inside.

The heady smell of the furniture assaulted Vyzion's enhanced nostrils. Of all the modifications he subscribed to, the olfactory adjustments were by far the most intriguing. He could discern distinct differences in the wood used to craft the sumptuous chair he walked towards to that of the small table next to it, as clearly as he could tell the number of forge gunners aiming at his dropship with the same nose. The former, it had to be said, was definitely much less repulsive than sweaty clone arms hefting forge guns.

He returns the receptionist's bow with a tilt of his head and relaxed into the chair. The light pilot suit he was wearing, a prototype fresh from a joint project between the researchers at Roden Shipyards and the scientists at CreoDron, adjusted itself to maximise Vyzion's comfort.

Feels great, except one well-aimed shot from these Scrambler Pistol-totting shiny folk will have me surfacing from goo before I can say "Long Live the Empress".

As for how this capsuleer acquired equipment at the cutting edge of dropship technology, well, that's a story for another time. For now, suffice it to say that the model is more of a prototype than the standard clone dropsuits in that it is relatively unstable.

A fact that Vyzion was just beginning to realise as he attempted to stretch a leg... and found that he couldn't.

Tried to raise his arms. Couldn't.
Turn his head. Couldn't.
Scratch that itch that only now decides to torment his nose... Couldn't.

His suit had spontaneously become harder than a Templar's faith to crack, and sitting in the PR offices of these very Templars, Vyzion decided to attempt to salvage whatever remained of his dignity and closed his eyes, slowed his breathing, and hoped that to all the world it appeared he was just looking to bathe in the warmth of the glimmering gold around him.

Thal walked into the Public Relation offices dressed in his black cloak and the Classiari standered uniform. He was tired, having just finished training his pupil. However, he found the Offices relaxing, and a good place to rest ones spirit.

As he noded at the receptionist, he noticed a man dressed in a very unfamiliar dropsuit design. He scanned the man thoroughly, trying to identify any possible hidden weapons. After deeming the man unarmed, he approached. He bowed and said

"Greetings sir, welcome to the public offices of the Classiarii. My name is Thal Vadam. What may I ask brings you to our offices and is there any assistance I can offer you?"

Just what I wanted. Just what I bloody wanted.

Vyzion kept his eyes closed and breathing measured. And then:

"I'm.. fine, ah, sir. Just appreciating the delightful upholstery, yes, yes..."

An idea sparked in the depths of his head.

"... Actually, that was a lie. I'm actually eavesdropping." A pause for effect. "You see, the way you guys trade greetings, with some kind of 'a shell tasty whatsit', before you engage in the actual conversation? Yeah, it's quite intriguing. I'd be indebted if you could explain some of that."

All the while, he spoke with his body tensed, trying with all his might to break the diamond shell of his dropsuit and eyes clenched shut.

I probably look exactly like that time when that Jita hawker sold me blended shiksi disguised as rockjaw mash. The ruckus I made in that toilet still has me labelled the "dropshit pilot".

Vyzion's arm raised an inch. All pretense was thrown out the window and he started wildly bucking in the chair.

"Then why... didn't... you... show me... common courtesy!"

And with his last word the dropsuit's material relaxed into its original state and Vyzion went flying right into the astonished Templar's arms.

"Well, this is awkward," muttered the pilot. "I'd ask you to paint me like one of those Gallentean girls but it would be hardly appropriate in these circumstances and our current... abode."

Vyzion helped himself out of the Templar's arms. As soon as his feet were back on the ground, Vyzion turned and extended a hand.

"Ashaltiasten Templar Thal. My intentions I'd prefer to keep to myself but eavesdropping on the language definitely was not far from the truth. I enjoy knowing, and a friend of a friend told me I could find out more about Carthum's initial designs for Amarrian dropships and small vehicular turrets. Could you confirm or disprove these whispers for me?"

"Ashaltiasten Denak, it is so good to see you" She said in fluent Amarrish, few hints of the Matari dialects still remains in her voice, each word was enunciated in full.

"How are you? What have you been doing? Is Ka- Classiarii Ouryon with you?"

Galm Fae.

"Ashaltiasten, Fae- han" He said, trying to sound as civil as possible given the circumstances, presenting himself before the man with a curt bow.

"Odd to see you here..... and oddly brave of you to show yourself before the Classiarii after our most recent encounter*.... I am told you wish to speak with me...though now is not the best of times..... a personal matter I hope you understand**."

The left side of Galm's face twitched, revealing a chip in his otherwise spotless facade that he carried with him as a baseliner. It was one out-of-character slip as he tried his hardest to act perfectly sane to the world around him. Most of the time it was easy, but the templar's words had triggered some nervous response that he was trying very very hard to suppress.

He wanted Frentix. Bad. He clentched his fist as hard as he could to provent himself from shaking before relaxing his shoulders and regaining his composure.

"Haan," he corrects politely, the vowels of the word extended barely past a noticeable difference, "Fae-haan. Decent attempt though, I commend you for it soldier."

His response was certainly spoken in Amarr, but his Pureblind accent was simply horrendous. The word were far too stretched out and slurred, rolled over and cast out of place as if to be as imposing as possible without the least bit of tact while still maintaining just enough consonants to sound intelligent. His subtle smirk is enough for the Templar to tell that keeping his tone was more a matter of preference than lack of ability.

Admittedly, it suited Galm perfectly.

"I'm... Sincerely sorry about the damage I may have caused. Congratulations on your victory, last I check that Caldari auxiliary you had working for you didn't actually upload the data before I sort of lost my ****. No hard feeling on your people putting me down by the way, it needed to happen. Frankly I just mark it as a victory that I got as far as I did!"

He laughs sheepishly, waiting for Kador to reciprocate. He doesn't.

"Anyway... Is the doctor doing well? I suppose that is something we shouldn't talk about out here actually, you never know who could be listening. I feel pretty bad so... Maybe if we went inside for a bit to discus things? Not that it has to be about work! I would take politics, religion, family values, current events... You know, dinner table conversation."

He squints uncomfortably, then looks away for a moment as he dips into his pockets. He sneers painfully as he pulls out a rectangular can and two rather large cigars. He holds them out for a while, wondering if the Templar even knows what they are

"I brough smokes. And long-limb roes. If you had some crackers we could share them or something, I don't know. For the roe I mean... You wouldn't want to put cigars on crackers."

" Forgive me Fae-haan if I do not partake of the cigars, such pollution of the body is..... something I try to avoid whenever possible..... certain people I know would give me an earful if the found out..... as for crackers? I am sure the servants could arrange something."

"Well Fae-haan....... where should we start?

"Perhaps I should be asking after Eskola.... or Niina. I know little enough of you and yours beyond the battlefield."

[quote=True Adamance] Truth be told, Miss Eskola-Fae prefers to keep the mercenary world at arm's length rather than draw much of any attention to herself. She continues her small arm's production, I get access to any sort of replication technology I need to manufacture my own weapons and armor, and in exchange I serve as a one man security team to execute any and all contracts that may be needed of me in between freelance deployments. It is all payed in Aurum off the books, and I am permitted to roam the stars so long as I always come to her aid."

He swallows hard and hides beneath his unkempt hair, lightly beating himself on the back of the head.

"Look, I know that it's no secret that her and I are an item. It's just... We've hit a bit of a rough patch recently. I'm not quite sure how else I could put it than that. We're still together of course, we're just... Spending a bit of time apart for now."

"Anything particular? They say Nightfall of Saisio III is a wonder of the State. We have a vast selection."

Galm snaps his head side to side, clearly entertain with the display.

"I suppose the host has first choice. Though Saisio III does sound lovely."

He slowly relaxes and continues to speak as Ouryon punches all manner of settings into the terminal.

"You know, you really needn't congratulate me. The marriage was really more of an elope, an impulse decision settled and done in a matter of days. It was a stupid choice truth be told. But it's a damnable thing, love. Here we are, two immortals with the rest of eternity before us and yet so afraid of losing each other that we can't bare to be apart. I can't see myself with anyone else but her and she doesn't feel safe with anyone else but me. So why not just settle the marriage and be done, right?"

He leans forward so his head is right beside Kadors, eyeing him casually while his pupils swap to a glowing silver.

"The service was humble. Just her, myself, and a close friend as the priest. He's... a 'captain' so we supposed he was authorized to conduct that sort of service. It was all held at this delightful lighthouse off a rocky coast on New Caldari Prime."

Just as Ouryon finishes and the display spins to life Galm shoots back to a straight stance, soaking in the transformation around him as it unfolds. He continues the conversation, trying his best to mask his entertainment.

"And you Kador? I don't suppose you're to be bothered with matters of the heart?"