Snippet #2780247

He saluted, "Yes Sir, thank you, Sir. I've been fighting my way out of the walls in there since that automaton melted me and my servitor weapon leaving Wing City with the Commissar. At least until I found something other than my hands. It's been a long road back."

Otto shuffled to less firm a stance for his screaming back muscles. Satchel raised he opened the container and pulled one of a pair of laspistols from inside. Most of the rest underneath an amalgamation of small gears flipping and twitching. Some bundles of wiring curled toward his hand as it left with the laspistol. Offered grip first to the Officer a normal laspistol in most regards if not for the faint changing surface. As if a minute pen writ backward on the inside of a mirror layered text in the various dialect of Cant Mechanicus.

A small rivulet of blood ran down his face from inside the helmet as he nodded to explain, "The relic is yours by right, Sir, I only have one issue holster. Earned with fists in the blood of those wracked demons. The thing in the walls tolerates no weakness in the Emperor's name."

A thumb tapped the writing which furiously centered a moment, "No idea what the machine spirit keeps writing on the metal but it's not that Chaos language. Eats cells a bit quickly. You'll want an insulated glove if you're firing for more than a few seconds or your hand will start freezing."

The pistol if taken revealed a glove fractured straight through to blackened frostbit flesh mottled by healthy parts.