Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-25684606-20191108235505/@comment-1620907-20191115154321

The Commissar's voice grated against Sawyr's ears. The man was clearly compensating for something, probably got off on lording his authority over others. Sawyr did not like being shouted at, if anyone should be doing the shouting, it should be him. While he didn't want to give the oaf the pleasure of a response, Sawyr was loathe to break with etiquette and gave his reply.

"The Emperor Protects!" Sawyr barked back, attempting to match the volume of the Commissar.

Sawyr motioned to grab the envelope but realised that Kuzvert had scooped them up already and was already heading out of the room. The Walker followed suit and Sawyr decided it was best to catch up with them. He needed to get his hands on those orders.

Almost tripping on his robes in the process, Sawyr lumbered after the two ingrates. Struggling to match their pace. Having spent much of his life in the comfort of the Clan Mother's tent, educated in the traditions of the Clan and entrusted with the knowledge of their history, physical exercise was a foreign concept to him. Quickly, Sawyr found himself out of breath, panting and heaving by the time he reached the armoury.

Kuzvert and Walker had already started to depart when he approached the quartermaster.

"Wu-," he panted, "Wu, one."

Sawyr paused to catch his breath.

"One, uh, rebreather," he spluttered out.

The quartermaster cast a glance towards Sawyr before fetching the item. The rebreather was passed through to him and a form handed over, that the quartermaster motioned for Sawyr to sign. Still doubled over, Sawyr forced himself upright and signed the piece of paper before retrieving the rebreather. Clutching it in his hand, he looked for the signs that would lead him to the engine bay. Eventually spotting one after five minutes of aimlessly and thoughtlessly walking around, he reached the rendezvous point, where Kuzvert stood with the letter clutched in his paw.

The Walker spoke up and Sawyr repeated the sentiment.

"Well," he panted, "go on."

"What, are, our, uh, orders?"