Tiger Eyes Weirdo

Izi Melitana’s ask and rp acc

[ask-izi]

LOYALIST FUREANS

RP STUFF

[ask-izi]

Strange. Izi regularly faced the heathen-engines of the darkmech in battle. How could he feel so disarmed, presently?

"Yes ma'am. My honored Warlord undergoes routine diagnostics. I thought it prudent to… unplug."

So, he wasn't alone in his restlessness. Izi could sympathize. Convention, however, dictated he could not demand conversation from a social superior.

"& no apologies are necessary. I see you were drawing.” Izi noted - an elegant alternative, he thought, to questioning why the Heiress was here, at this hour, alone.

[wayward40k]

Clementiya nodded as he explained his own reason for being up. It made sense, so there was little reason to dwell on the topic. Certainly a better reason than her own, anyways: a light pink touched at her cheeks at his observation, a reminder that she'd been caught. The sketch is hidden as the journal is closed on the pencil, saving her place.

"Ah, y-yes, heh. It helps me organize my thoughts, I suppose. Sometimes I can't think of anything else until I get at least a sketch down," the heiress admitted, though more nervousness leaked into her tone than she'd have liked. It felt as though she were fumbling in her embarrassment.

"Do you have any hobbies like that?"

[ask-izi]

For a moment, Izi thought of great weapon arcs and blast radii.

Such considerations weren't a hobby, of course - they were not even products of his own mind. What did he, as a being of flesh and blood, and not a towering war-engine, enjoy?

The neural-port at his neck ached at the thought...

He did understand the need to commit a thought to parchment.

"I practice this poem-form from my homeworld," Izi admitted. "Though I... am not particularly talented."

[ask-izi]

/ final episode of Kill Lupercal IZI IS SO BACK

[ask-izi]

I knew they weren’t gona kill Lupercal but be so fr the lupercal in question was a little tv signal? Be so fr rn fr fr

[ask-izi]

/ final episode of Kill Lupercal IZI IS SO BACK

[ask-izi]

Izi’s boots clicked softly against the stone path as he passed beneath an arch of flowering vines.

His maniple had stood watch over the Estate for a few cycles now, and Izi had found ample time to brood over questions of threats and security.

Now he needed time to clear his head.

It was nice here, in the Estate. The scent of roses and citrus blossoms lingered in the air… He mused, until he found himself pausing before the sight of her, the Heiress.

To turn back now would be unthinkably discourteous. Instead, he stepped forward and cleared his throat with practices politeness.

"My lady," he said, "forgive the intrusion; I thought I was alone at this hour." @wayward40k

[wayward40k]

Things at the Laurellete Estate had been - thankfully - fairly quiet. In the aftermath of Clementiya's return home, there'd been some minor squabblings between her aunts and uncles, but nothing concerning had happened. Security had been on high-alert, cooperating eagerly with the maniple to ensure nothing else would occur. And it hadn't. Yet.

The heiress couldn't shake a sense of unease in recent days. It felt as though someone were watching her - someone other than the endless security and staff everywhere - though without much more than a vague feeling, she felt silly alerting anyone. 'You're always going to be watched,' her uncle had once told her, then joked about how she should be happy about being the center of attention.

So it was Clementiya shouldn't have been surprised that someone else was present in a public space of the Estate. Yet the heiress had been lost in her own thoughts, pencil hovering over paper as she pondered a sketch in her journal, and his clearing throat seemed to jolt her back to the moment.

Izi would be given a warm, almost apologetic smile in reply. "I should be the one asking forgiveness, Princeps, I hadn't noticed you. Is everything alright..?" Given the hour, it was easy to assume he was having difficulty sleeping - at least, that's why she was still up.

[ask-izi]

Strange. Izi regularly faced the heathen-engines of the darkmech in battle. How could he feel so disarmed, presently?

"Yes ma'am. My honored Warlord undergoes routine diagnostics. I thought it prudent to… unplug."

So, he wasn't alone in his restlessness. Izi could sympathize. Convention, however, dictated he could not demand conversation from a social superior.

"& no apologies are necessary. I see you were drawing.” Izi noted - an elegant alternative, he thought, to questioning why the Heiress was here, at this hour, alone.

[ask-izi]

Izi’s boots clicked softly against the stone path as he passed beneath an arch of flowering vines.

His maniple had stood watch over the Estate for a few cycles now, and Izi had found ample time to brood over questions of threats and security. Now he needed time to clear his head.

It was nice here, in the Estate. The scent of roses and citrus blossoms lingered in the air… Or so he mused, until he found himself pausing before the sight of her, the Heiress.

To turn back now would be unthinkably discourteous. Instead, he stepped forward and cleared his throat with practiced politeness.

"My lady," he said, "forgive the intrusion; I thought I was alone at this hour." @wayward40k

[ask-izi]

Ahead, the blastdoors opened at their approach. A three-foot gap separated the bridge from the Warlord's superstructure.

With the hot wash and all the noise, it was surely an unsettling prospect for the uninitiated. Izi's own heart still raced every time he neared Chhota's awesome power.

He stepped over the gap and turned, already feeling a familiar sense of relief as he stood once more upon the certain body of his titan.

The Princeps reached out a hand. He flicked on a reassuring smile. "It's alright," Izi called to the heiress, sensing her unease. "Be brave now."

[wayward40k]

The heiress, meanwhile, was pretty sure she fainted for a second, only saved from tumbling by her grip on the railing and Valile’s unwavering support. She had to take in a deep breath, then another, at the prospect of crossing the gap, suddenly feeling terribly unbalanced. Three feet suddenly felt to be three meters, and Clementiya felt her legs refuse to move.

But one step at a time, right? She reached out, taking the Princeps’ hand and squeezing tightly in her fear. Another deep breath, and the heiress made a motion as though about to take the crossing slow and careful. Which didn’t help, and Clementiya realized. So another exhale and a small jump landed her on the Titan itself. 

She found, however, that she’d pulled herself towards the anchor she’d had on that side, and her cheeks went a deeper shade of red at realizing how close she’s ended up to the Princeps, nearly clinging to him to avoid slipping or falling. “S-sorry…” She’d whisper to him - though there was a reluctance to let go of his hand (and arm) before her nerves fully settled.

[ask-izi]

“D-don’t be,” Izi replied, sheepishly.

He'd been tempered in the crucible of the Great Slaughter at Beta Garmon. Surely, at some point, he'd also been taught the social graces to navigate this situation?

For a heartbeat, the Princeps drew a blank. Then, somehow, he thought of Legio Solaria's Prachi Mohana.

I'll show you what a real hunter looks like, he'd told her upon their first meeting.

“This way.” Izi led her into the armored cabin, the Warlord's head.

Quiet, dimly lit by votive candles, the cabin presented a veritable city-scape of blinking lights and gages scattered around worn leather seats. Patterned blankets and bone chimes hinted at some tribal heritage.

Izi's moderati, striking in their resemblance to him, waited by their posts, already linked. "Blood Princeps," They called at his approach.

Izi dismissed them with a gesture. "My lady," he turned to the heiress. "How does it feel to walk on a god machine?"

Nearby monitors displayed urgent datascreeds. At a glance, most of them were about Chhota's dreams.

[ask-izi]

The blastdoors opened, and they were immediately met by the roaring heat wash from his warlord’s shoulder-vents.

Ahead, a caged bridge connected their end to the reinforced hatch at the back of Chhota’s superstructure.

“Take hold of the rail!” Izi warned the heiress over the deafening roar as his hair flew about his face.

This close, the warlord seemed as an enormous bulwark. Its shoulder armature was painted red on the left and green on the right, with tall, rising flames picked out in white.

Far below in the gloom of the coffin drop-pod, a small party of Eagles Eyes titan guard prepared to sally forth with their charge.

Elsewhere, strangely near, adepts began a haunting ceremonial melody with metal pipes…

[wayward40k]

Clementiya was overwhelmed by the sheer… everything. It was awe-inspiring, truly, and there was a desperate urge to put the sensation to canvas as best she could. But that would have to wait for the future, grasping a hold of the rail even as Izi prompted her to. Everything was… dizzying, to the point where she may have forgotten to breathe a moment. 

It was a mercy her own hair was tied up and managed well at the moment, or else the resulting storm of curls would have been overwhelmingly embarrassing. Perhaps the layers of skirts were less practical, however, the fabric pulling heavily at her legs as the wind whipped it about.

Valile would silently place a hand on the heiress’s back, giving the young woman a bit of reassuring support to encourage her to move forward. And move she did, following close behind Izi as they approached Chhota. Though, there were points where her steps faltered, a sense of dread starting to creep over her as they got closer. 

She had to turn her gaze from the bulwark of a Titan before her to the Izi himself. He was far closer to her stature, and he seemed far less perturbed by everything happening. Which was natural, after all: how many times had he done this? Maybe it felt less foreboding after crossing the bridge multiple times. One step after another.

[ask-izi]

Ahead, the blastdoors opened at their approach. A three-foot gap separated the bridge from the Warlord's superstructure.

With the hot wash and all the noise, it was surely an unsettling prospect for the uninitiated. Izi's own heart still raced every time he neared Chhota's awesome power.

He stepped over the gap and turned, already feeling a familiar sense of relief as he stood once more upon the certain body of his titan.

The Princeps reached out a hand. He flicked on a reassuring smile. "It's alright," Izi called to the heiress, sensing her unease. "Be brave now."

[ask-izi]

Izi supposed it was a proper enough reception...

"Certainly." He grimaced, motioning for the heiress to proceed. "My titan is this way."

In truth, Izi could relate to her loss. He had never possessed parents in a conventional sense, but he'd been raised and mentored by a senior officer, struck down during the Titandeath.

Grief had set him upon a dark path indeed, until recently. Retribution had been his only desire; Somehow, he did not think young lady Laurellete had vengeance foremost in her mind. She wished for her old life back, perhaps. Certainly not seclusion in a fortress.

Not that such insight entitled him to demand conversation from the noblite.

They took their leave from the bridge. The layout of the Inner Eye was simple. The ship was mostly an armored, rectangular frame meant to support an oversized container - the coffin drop-pod.

This priceless piece of ancient Incaladine artifice had ferried the Tiger Eyes War Maniple XVIII, now Legio Mekcikana, through the waning days of the Crusade, the dark days of Heresy, and this current age of wonder and terror.

It's precious cargo today was Chhota Raajakumaar, Izi's warlord titan. The Legio's other titans, a pair of warhounds, had remained behind to guard the Laurellete Estate.

The path from the bridge to the warlord's access tunnel lay through processional stairway. At the head of the steps, things took on a more ritual aspect as they were met by a pair of white-clad titanica adepts.

In the amber light of the ship, the techpriests genuflected as one, rose, and began their descent with metronomic, binaric cants, incense censers swinging.

All the way down, candle-lit alcoves depicted the stylized victories of Izi's nascent legio, the Eagle Eyes, in bronze panels: Nachmund Rift, the Arks of Omen Campaign, the Fourth Tyrannic War, others...

[wayward40k]

Not that her old life had been any less secluded: this was her first time actually leaving the central Estate. She wished it could have been under different circumstances. All of it, even meeting Izi, following along behind him through the Inner Eye. Clementiya wanted to know the stories behind everything she could: every image, every process, every person. But that desire was weighed down and muted by fear and grief, and the heiress thought it best to keep from taking up too much of the commander’s precious time - further encouraged by the solemn air the ritualistic procession gave.

Already she felt awkward her family had asked this of him. It all seemed a bit overkill, an entire Warlord Titan, just to protect her. No one had even made any progress determining who was even behind the murder, to the point some were talking about involving the Inquisition. Why would titans help…? Why would any of this help?

As though sensing Clementiya’s inner cycling upset, Valile very gently rested a hand on the young woman’s shoulder. She gave a reassuring squeeze, though broke the contact soon after to avoid appearing to be overly casual with the heiress. The Captain only had Clementiya’s safety and best interests at heart, considering she’d watched the girl grow up. And the young woman was thankful for the silent support, sending Valile a small, sad smile of thanks.

Even her despair, however, could not overwhelm the growing awareness of just how large a Warlord Titan was compared to her much tinier form. A sense of fear-tinged-awe grew with every step closer to Chhota Raajakumaar: was her situation so dangerous that it required employing this colossus?

Orswain was not prepared for a Titan, and the nobleman did in fact have a momentary panic attack about its presence. But perhaps it was a gift of sorts, if he were smart about it…

[ask-izi]

The blastdoors opened, and they were immediately met by the roaring heat wash from his warlord’s shoulder-vents.

Ahead, a caged bridge connected their end to the reinforced hatch at the back of Chhota’s superstructure.

“Take hold of the rail!” Izi warned the heiress over the deafening roar as his hair flew about his face.

This close, the warlord seemed as an enormous bulwark. Its shoulder armature was painted red on the left and green on the right, with tall, rising flames picked out in white.

Far below in the gloom of the coffin drop-pod, a small party of Eagles Eyes titan guard prepared to sally forth with their charge.

Elsewhere, strangely near, adepts began a haunting ceremonial melody with metal pipes…

[wh40kartwork]

Eternity Gate

by Joan Piqué Llorens

[wh40kartwork]

God-Engine

by niellustrate

[ask-izi]

[mcflymemes]

SCI FI SETTINGS / LOCATIONS PROMPTS *  sci-fi location based prompts for starters, adjust as necessary

spaceship-specific

[ 01 ] the cockpit of a dilapidated spaceship

[ 02 ] the bridge of a massive starship, with windows around the room giving you an incredible view of the stars

[ 03 ] beside the burning remains of a crashed ship

[ 04 ] tucked away in the bunks of a tiny spaceship

[ 05 ] outside a spaceship in the middle of space, using gravity-boots to walk safely across the ship and perform repairs or check a bad sensor

[ 06 ] a bustling ship hangar with crewmembers running about, rushing to get into their ships as the battle draws near

[ 07 ] the weapons locker onboard the ship

[ 08 ] the locker rooms onboard the ship

[ 09 ] the echo-y shuttle bay of a spaceship

[ 10 ] in the ship's command center during an intense battle

[ 11 ] the narrow passageway leading to the ship's weapon system/turrets

[ 12 ] the mess hall, crowded with crewmembers

[ 13 ] your muse's private room onboard the ship

different types of planets

[ 14 ] a dense, foggy planet with oversized plants

[ 15 ] the abandoned base on a moon with low gravity

[ 16 ] a swampy, foggy planet with frightening creatures lurking beneath the water's surface

[ 17 ] an entirely water-covered planet with structures built above the stormy seas for safety

[ 18 ] a hilly, remote planet covered in grasslands

[ 19 ] a lava-covered, mountainous planet with bubbling volcanoes

[ 20 ] a planet trapped in a constant storm, always raining and thundering

[ 21 ] the site of an abandoned colony on a once-habitable planet, now taken over by nature and destroyed by time

[ 22 ] a planet where life only exists underground, where it is impossible to survive on the surface

[ 23 ] a city planet, completely built up of buildings, nightlife, neon lights, and a seedy underbelly

assorted locations + scenarios

[ 24 ] a military base, now abandoned and controlled by a rogue ai

[ 25 ] trapped within a high security prison full of space pirates

[ 26 ] a holy temple, obscured in the mountains of a distant planet

[ 27 ] on the craggy side of a massive meteor

[ 28 ] a dangerous off-world facility rumored to house illegal experimentations

[ 29 ] a bustling, cramped cantina filled with music, drinking, and the occasional gunshot or two

[ 30 ] secretly aboard the enemy's ship, trying to remain hidden

[ask-izi]

Straightening, Izi turned to the heiress.

“My lady,” he bowed. “Everything’s ready for our departure.”

Izi had never looked after a noble... He’d been involved with rogue traders and knight households, certainly. A fierce bunch.

None had ever seemed quite so, ah, fragile.

[wayward40k]

There was, of course, a difference between the sorts of nobilities the Princeps was used to, and the heiress. She’d never been trained to be fierce, how to fight or argue or even raise her voice: there’d been no reason for it. No, Clementiya had been prepared her entire life to be a wife and a mother and, essentially, a decorative figurehead for the family. It showed in everything she did, for better and worse.

“Thank you, sir,” she replied softly, attempting a half-hearted smile. Her gaze went from Izi to Valile, quietly waiting for one of them to take the lead. Her maids had already taken the few small things she’d been able to bring along, and were to meet them there, leaving the heiress and her main escorts unburdened.

Captain Valile would nod to them, giving a “shall we?” before turning promptly to lead the way. The entire situation bothered her, though she couldn’t put her finger on why, exactly.

The stronghold was stirring. The gatehouse awaited, house guards assembling as though preparing for either an invasion or a visit from the God-Emperor himself. It was clear this was an uncommon event, the soldiers tensed for something unpredicted.

[ask-izi]

Izi supposed it was a proper enough reception...

"Certainly." He grimaced, motioning for the heiress to proceed, "My titan is this way."

In truth, Izi could relate to her loss. He had never possessed parents in a conventional sense, but he'd been raised and mentored by a senior officer, struck down during the Titandeath.

Grief had set him upon a dark path indeed, until recently. Retribution had been his only desire; Somehow, he did not think young lady Laurellete had vengeance foremost in her mind. She wished for her old life back, perhaps. Certainly not seclusion in a fortress.

Not that such insight entitled him to demand conversation from the noblite.

They took their leave from the bridge. The layout of the Inner Eye was simple. The ship was mostly an armored, rectangular frame meant to support an oversized container - the coffin drop-pod.

This priceless piece of ancient Incaladine artifice had ferried the Tiger Eyes War Maniple XXVIII, now Legio Mekcikana, through the waning days of the Crusade, the dark days of Heresy, and the current age of wonder and dread.

It's precious cargo today was Chhota Raajakumaar, Izi's warlord titan. The Legio's other titans, a pair of warhounds, had remained behind to guard the Laurellete Estate.

The path from the bridge to the warlord's access tunnel lay through a processional stairway. At the head of the steps, things took on a ritual aspect as they were met by a pair of white-clad titanica adepts.

In the amber light of the ship, the techpriests genuflected as one, rose, and began their descent with metronomic, binaric cants, incense censers swinging.

All the way down, candle-lit alcoves depicted the stylized victories of Izi's nascent legio, the Eagle Eyes, in bronze panels: Nachmund Rift, the Arks of Omen Campaign, the Fourth Tyrannic War, and others.

[shadow-of-iybraesil]

/Aight this is gona be the color scheme of my paint-testing legio and it's sick as fuck

[ask-izi]

Izi lowered his binoculars. He’d set down the Eye some distance away from the silent stronghold.

Surely, their landing hadn’t gone unnoticed?

“Is this normal?” The Princeps asked Captain Valile. “I’d rather not have Lady Laurellete waiting like this.”

There had been precious few comforts for the heiress aboard the titan-barque, though Izi had managed to provide her with a Colegia Titanica roll of arms...

[wayward40k]

Valile took a deep breath before answering, as though forcing her way past the first reply she wanted to give. “It is not… uncommon,” she told him flatly, sounding unimpressed. If she had any say in the matter, her suggestion would be to force Orswain to wake up (perhaps literally) via warning shot, but the good captain decided to restrain herself. The local security forces were just likely hoping they’d go away if ignored.

Instead, she stepped aside, taking a moment to help adjust a voxcaster to a local security frequency. “Attention, to the estate of Lord and Lady Orswain Laurellete. I am Captain Aimi Valile of the Core Estate Security with Princeps Majoris Izi Melitana of the Inner Eye, escorting the Lady Clementiya Laurellete. Respond.”

That lit a fire under someone’s chair, getting a crackled confirmation in reply near-instantly. The woman huffed to herself, clearly already displeased with the situation, but she had her damned orders. So Valile professionally went through the verbal checks to confirm the stronghold was prepared to receive the heiress, sparing the need for Izi to deal with the less-than-impressive operator on the other end of the vox. 

“Alright. We’re to escort Lady Clementiya to the gatehouse…” Valile finally confirmed with an exhausted sigh. “Speaking of,” she commented, looking towards the doorway. The heiress had clearly understood she was expected to join them once they’d landed, but there seemed to be a delay.

As interesting as the scroll of arms had been - genuinely, Clementiya had liked looking at the various crests and learning to associate them with various names - it had not been her only distraction. A pair of maids had accompanied her on the trip, to assist her with feeling at ease in the new locations and helping her prepare for her days. They’d been good at making sure the heiress didn’t spiral further into a seclusive depression.

While the heiress was not feeling up to socializing overmuch, she could often be found with one of her sketchbooks throughout the areas of the ancient ship she was permitted to go. The pages had been filled with not only sketches of the people aboard, but of the machinery and any interesting architecture. There were even some innocent scribblings wondering how some joints were designed, whether they mimicked a natural ball-in-joint or more of a hinge or perhaps even rotated around a sort of ball bearing. 

Said sketchbook was being tucked under her arm as she finally joined the other two on the bridge, trying to give them a small smile in greeting. “S-sorry…” was offered quietly as she joined them. It would be easy to guess she’d gotten distracted by some newly noticed detail along the way.

[ask-izi]

Straightening, Izi turned to the heiress.

“My lady,” he bowed. “Everything’s ready for our departure.”

That much was a relief, though a certain unease still gripped his heart.

Izi had never looked after a noble... He’d been involved with rogue traders and knight households, certainly. A fierce bunch.

None had ever seemed quite so, ah, fragile.

[wayward40k]

@ask-izi

The House Laurellete was, by no means, poor off. Their noble Estate was not located on any single planet, but a massive void station near the center of their perceived ‘territory’, consisted solely of the planets holding their mining operations. If one wanted metals or gems, the Laurelletes were good friends to have: that’s what Princeps Majoris Izi Melitana had been told.

And they were gracious, more than happy to discuss a deal, promising funding and materials for services to be rendered - how many noble houses could claim to have a Titan in their deck of allies? Lord and Lady Laurellete weren’t keen on passing up the opportunity, and what the Princeps was looking for wouldn’t be a blow to their funds or inventories by any means. 

The heiress, meanwhile, had been busying herself in her studio, painting the scene of The Inner Eye out amongst the void. She’d caught sight of it eclipsing the system’s distant sun, resulting with a brilliant halo around the impressive ship, and had been driven to commit it to canvas. She’d, perhaps, hoped to offer it as a gift to their new allies, but that day had yet to come.

Before ink could be put to paper, and the documents formalizing any allegiance had been signed, a tragedy struck that sent the Estate into lockdown. The Lord and Lady had been killed within their home, spiraling the family into confusion and disrupting business. Events were canceled, visits were postponed, and the Estate was scoured for any trace as to who was to blame. Silence was the answer.

The Laurellete siblings - Clementiya’s aunts and uncles - found themselves having to make decisions regarding the family, as the heiress had yet to satisfy the terms of her inheritance. She would find herself sent to stay with one of her uncles, Orswain Laurellete, in some effort to protect her from the still-absent mystery assassin, as he fondly boasted about the security of his planetside fortifications.

But such was their unease that one of the other siblings would reach out personally to Princeps Majoris Izi Melitana. Gralan Laurellete would promise the family would honor the already-negotiated deal, should the commander and his Titan ensure the safety of the heiress. Perhaps they were worried about nothing, but communications with Orswain had gone unresponded to. The man was an alcoholic, so it wasn’t out of character for him to be neglectful about remembering to communicate, but the presence of a Titan would make the rest of the family feel all the more secure. Just in case. Capitan Valile, one of the heads of security for the Estate, would deign to join the commander in the proposed task. She intended to give the man some insight into how the family tended to function - and make sure he'd be respectful of the heiress if he needed any reminders.

It was more a moon, than a world, that the Princeps would find himself heading for. Light atmosphere, just enough for breathing, but something about the air stank like rot as it stung the eyes. A lone fortress was indeed found among the jagged, mountainous surface of the planetoid, carved into the stone and reinforced with thick metal. Orswain clearly wasn’t keen on having any uninvited guests.

[ask-izi]

Izi lowered his binoculars. He’d set down the Eye some distance away from the silent stronghold.

Surely, their landing hadn’t gone unnoticed?

“Is this normal?” The Princeps asked Captain Valile. “I’d rather not have Lady Laurellete waiting like this.”

There had been precious few comforts for the heiress aboard the titan-barque, though Izi had managed to provide her with a Colegia Titanica roll of arms...