Talk:Gallian Republic/@comment-12161342-20161030020307

OOC: since orions banned its up to me to do this.

IC: When word of the Gallian purges across their country reaches Aneph authorities from the peacekeeping troops, the brass are -- understandably -- horrified. After as little deliberation as could be made -- to preserve lives -- while still being thorough about all options, a decision is reached, and a coded dispatch is sent by Aneph comms to the Astartes stationed within the capital city.

The Black Templars had been chosen for this operation; despite their pedigree as ruthless Protoss-hunters, they were also experts in urban combat and combat engineering. And the communique went to them. A Techmarine forwarded it to its recipient, and on the bridge of the Invictus-class battlecruiser Adytum, a hulking, eight-foot man bent towards a data-slate held in his muscled hand.

That man was the Reclusiarch of the Black Templars, Kul Gilad, and it was he who would be sent to speak with Prime Minister Holland. A message was sent to the Gallians, terse at best and entirely vague at worst, and approximately an hour later, a Castigator attack helicopter in the black-and-white livery of the Black Templars settled upon a helipad near Whitehaven Palace. Kul himself stepped out, escorted by no one, but with a faintly humming blade a full meter and a half slung over his back and a gold-chased bolt pistol at his hip.

His power armor made him a full nine feet, and as he gazed from its lofty heights onto the Gallian soldiers near the helipad, a nigh-invisible smile touched Kul's face. After a few moments of long silence, one of the Gallian guards finally spoke -- a lieutenant --, the waver in his voice well-controlled. "Are you PM Holland's... visitor?"

"Indeed," said Kul, his voice a rumbling baritone. "Are you my escorts?" The irony in that was clear to anyone watching; if measured by power, the thought that the Whitehaven guards would be escorting the Astartes was laughable. But, commendably, the lead soldier was unfazed, and simply said "I believe so. This way, sir."

They turned to head towards the Palace proper, but before they could start moving, Kul Gilad was already among them. But instead of his blade lancing out to sever their mortal thread, or his bolter pulverizing their flesh and bone into an expanding cloud of matter, he simply stood as still as a statue amongst them, barely breathing.

As they warily drew into a jog again, Kul slipped into motion as if he had never stood still. As they walked, he followed abreast, moving at an easy lope even with his armor on. Within five minutes, they were within the Palace, and Kul spoke again after a clincal survey of his surroundings. "This place is well-defensible, even if it possesses too many windows. My compliments to its builders."

One of the soldiers, a corporal by his shoulder rank insignia, cleared his throat, and after a second of awkward silence, said "I'm sure they'd be happy to hear that, sir. But what of its beauty? The arches, the marble, the gold..." He trailed off expectantly, and Kul turned his head to look at the corporal over his armor's pauldrons.

"It is perhaps beautiful. But like I took my war-name when I became an Astartes, I took an appreciation for... different things. You find beauty in aesthetics; I find it in security and effectiveness. Perhaps if you were an Astartes, you would think the same. Perhaps not."

As if realizing he had said too much, Kul Gilad subsided into silence, one that would last until they reached the Prime Minister's chamber.

When they did, the soldiers that had previously accompanied him peeled off, their services no longer needed, and one of the ever-present shock troopers at the PM's door leaned in. "Prime Minister Holland? The Aneph... representative is here to see you."