Board Thread:Warhammer 40k Roleplay/@comment-24821739-20140512191137/@comment-24821739-20140605153129

"Plenty of those", Ralishgar says, while moving along on his spider like chassis.

Ralishgar moves to the wall and inserts one of his many mechadendrites into the slot there. The wall does nothing for an instant, then a large section slides into the floor and inside is a room just big enough for a Company of Space Marines to fit inside. Ralishgar moves into the room and stands in the center. As the Kill-Team follows, the room starts moving downwards. This entire room is an elevator, which is decending through the Planetary Govenor's Tower at a break-neck pace. Using the experiences of their past, the Kill-Team can calculate that they are decending at a rate between one hundred and two hundred metres per second.

After around 3 minutes, the elevator slows, and finally stops. The door on the elevator opens, and the Kill-Team sees something that defies logic.

All over this floor is servitors moving to and fro working on armaments. Everything seems to be being built here, from tanks to carapace armor. Las-weapons to Mega Battle Cannons. The Tech-Priest looks to the marines. The Kill-Team can visibly see the strain on the Tech-Priest's face disappear, as if he were a Space Marine back on his Fortress Monastery after over 500 years on the field.

"I apologise if you see it as a deception, but our Tithes to the Imperium are so low because of what you see here. Witness the glory of the Omnissiah!", he says, and smiles. (It's not pretty.)

This room is bigger than any the Kill-Team members have ever been in before. (Unless they have been inside a Titan Manufactorum.) Hundreds of thousands of servitors move around the room, cleaning, repairing, and creating all the tools of war the Imperial forces could ever need.

"If you would please come this way.", Ralishgar says, and starts scuttling further from the elevator. "Magos Explorator Grimalt found this room 2000 years ago, along with multiple STCs. After they had been secured and shipped to Mars, the Fabricator-General himself sent Magos Grimalt and myself back here to make this facility fully functional. We supply munitions for over 100 systems, and when a new Space Marine chapter needs to be equipped, they ask us for help. We are most efficient here."

As he walks, the marines notice the skull servitor following them, listening and seeing everything they do.

"Ah, we have come to our destination.", Ralishgar says, pointing to a corner.

In this corner, well over 100 suits of Mark VIII "Errant" armor stand, awaiting a Marine to claim it. Each suit of armor is the flat color of unpainted Ceramite. The absolute precision and detail of the armor can be seen. Each one seems to have a cargo container beside it, with the seal of the Adeptus Mechanicus upon it. Two Jump Packs, compatible with the Mark VIII armor sit on stands near the Armor.

Multiple weapons and armaments used by the Astartes are neatly stacked and organized, as if waiting for the Kill-Team to just pick it up. Among the armaments, many things stand out. 4 Power Swords, strange and exotic, sit in their sheathes in the front of the stockpile. Multiple heavy bolters lay in rows along with hundreds of thousands of shells, neatly stacked in boxes. (Just about anything you can think of.) Huge towers of ammunition stretch almost to the ceiling of this huge room. Grenade boxes, clearly labeled, stretch above just like the ammunition.

Strange and exotic weapons are separated from the rest, but still close at hand. Things like the Graviton Guns, Shuriken Cannons, and other weapons not normally seen in the Adeptus Mechanicus stores.

"You may take what you will, our planet is important to us." Ralishgar says, smiling his ugly smaie again, "If you require the armor, know that this is what the Astartes call Atificer Armor. Magos Grimalt has customized them himself. We can also paint them in your Deathwatch colors if you like. It should only take minutes. Servitors will assist you in getting into your armor if you like, and will re-arrange any crates you need moved."

The Tech-Priest lowers himself onto the ground (Around 1.5 metres tall) and his "spider-like" legs fold around themselves. He pulls out a data-slate, and gestures to the stockpile of armaments.

"You may begin deciding what you wish to aquire. Everything must be logged, however, so please tell me what you take."

OOC: Now for the equipment upgrades. :D