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Garden of The Dark PBF - Main Thread

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Xander Morhaime:
The ork got up with a quiet grunt once the briefing was done, gathering up the various items he'd brought before stomping on after the pilot. He does make a brief detour at one point to collect the rest of his possessions before turning up in the hangar bay - namely, an ill-fitting suit of flak armour (painted bright blue and decorated with ork glyphs, an oversized axe, and what could be best described as a sawed-off heavy stubber.

The ork doesn't seem to take well to the silence, and fidgets constantly on the too-small shuttle seat, looking back and forth. Knowing the primitive nature of orks, it's probably just eager for the chance to rip the head off something, and is muttering something to itself in its own crude language. And giggling occasionally.

Ork giggles are not a pretty sight.

Gargulec:
The eldar, even walking, still kept her head bowed. She was intimidated by the ork, and afraid of the human. And she felt poorly. When finally raised her head for a second, you could see fresh brand burnt into her cheek.

After entering the shuttle, she quickly found herself a place in a corner, and again curled up her knees. Soon, she collapsed into shallow slumber.

Aramilllion:
The Arbitrator joined rest of the team after a few minutes. Whole the way to the shuttle he was thinking some issues over in silence, but seemed to got rid of those doubts that had afflicted him during the briefing. He visibly felt more confident than before.

In the shuttle he let his companions rest for a while, and then began a conversation breaking the silence. His voice was calm but emphatical.
"I hope you all understand Low Gothic." - he began - "If we are to cooperate as a squad and to survive this mission, we ought to get to know something about ourselves. Without it, the task will be a failure in advance. I shall start to encourage the rest.
My name is Ramirez Zenth, I am an Arbitrator of Adeptus Arbites born and raised in the Gunmetal City on Scintella. By Magos Interrogator's authority I am your leader during this mission. I do not mind using guns - after all I am a Hiver and my gun is my life, nevertheless the main advantage of mine is the ability to gather information. I would also like you to tell me what are your feelings about our objectives. Of course despite my leadership, any advices and suggestions are welcomed. Keep in mind that our good cooperation is the key to survival."
Ramirez kicked back and waited for someone other to take up the issue.

Silhar:
The servo-skull gave away a silent beep, a crunch, and translated Arbiter's words into High Gothic. Those cracks were noisy enough to wake the Eldar up and perhaps irritate the rest.

Inertia put her feet on the console, leaning back on her seat and lighting a lho-stick. "Wake me up when you'll be ready to start.", she sneered with a soft voice, closing her eyes.

Outside, some nervous tech-adept drew a shotgun and disposed of some particularly badly programmed servitor. There was a rain of sparks and the machine fell to the ground, leaking oil.

Aramilllion:
After half an hour of waiting in silence disrupted only by the Ork's giggles (most annoying), the Arbitrator was deeply irritated.
"OK, fine." - he drawled - "I shall not force you both to talk. If your wish is to be treated as slaves, very well then." He shook his head with disappointment.
Then he turned himself towards Inertia and woke her up:
"Miss Inertia, start the engines if you don't mind. And I would like to have a word with you. Do you prefer now, or maybe later?
It's about the planet, the mission, the circumstances, and generally about what should we expect when we get there."

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