Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-1734134-20161215224118/@comment-1734134-20170413191150

It's a terrifying few moments as you're torn from the ship - along with the crates. It's like swimming through liquid fire - and as you emerge from the portal you're dumped hard onto a steel floor. As you lie their, mewling for a few moments, you look around. You all lie in a heap, a heap of prone mutie forms, surrounded by high walls of identical crates - all identical to the two you recovered. The sheer number of them is impossible to count - a cityscape of the steel boxes. Your bodies have been further affected by the unshielded warp transport.

Varen's upper body becomes incredibly strong - while it seems he's been able to restore his legs - though they seem somewhat withered at first. Torki's hands are malformed and twisted further, making it hard to use anything - bits of arm bone extending out like some sort of boney knife through the palm of his twisted hand. Tyran finds his mind blossom with new, arcane knowledge, the warp jump awakening something within him - granting him minor use of psychic powers. Dex's features twist and alter - his whole body becoming grotesque and fearsome.

Standing before you is a blonde woman with a clipboard - lips pursed into a disappointed pout. You see her stamp it twice before walking away and giving a hand gesture to a nearby servitor. The cyborg dutifully whizzes past you and picks up the crates, stacks them carefully, before disappearing into the mass of steel. A door on the far side of the cargo bay opens, the blonde steps through and you catch a brief glance of Douchard’s reflected off of her bright gold shoulder pads, his back turned away from the you. A bald man with an Inquisitorial Rosette tattooed upon it exits from the same door before it quickly closes. His left hand is clutched tightly around a suitcase. A duffle bag is draped over his right shoulder.

"Now, don't take this personally, this is business," the man places the suitcase down on the ground and slides it towards you, "my client can only pay you for the two crates."

He looks down at the mess of muties and his lips contort into a smile.

“However, you guys have done me a solid and spared me from some,” He pauses for a moment and looks over each of you carefully, “messier work”

He chucks the duffle bag at you.

“This should help take the edge off.”