Thank you for the tally!
You scoff and toss your silky curtain of hair behind you. With a face of haughtiness only rivaled by the aristocratic farmlords back on your homeworld, you loudly and clearly walk the opposite direction of where you're meant to go. With each step, another pair of eyes turns to glorify you, and you revel in it. Who would have thought that you of all people would be revered as an idol?
You grab a particularly smitten scribe by the scruff of his collar. His red face would make even the Blood God proud. Pressing your nose tantalizingly close to his, your eyes interlock, and sigh softly. "Do you want to give me a tour, sweet?"
A stunned silence is your only reply for a moment. Warily turning his head left and right, the scribe faces you again assured that he is not the butt of a joke once more. He nods. You let go of him, and you see disappointment dance across his face. You wonder if any girl has gotten that close with him. He walks off, stopping every few paces to make sure you're still following.
"Eh, uh, um, this is the bridge. Most of us, uh, um, spend time here. Our sergeant is Hooker, she's over there, playing Tarot." You feel his heart race. He's smitten. "Yeah, uh, I don't see her often. She doesn't really talk to non-combatants. Or anyone, actually."
Almost all work on the bridge grinds to a halt as more and more mercenaries are alerted to your presence. The servitors, of course, are apathetic. The scribe continues onward and the bustle of work continues as you leave.
"Um, the apothecary works here. In the medicae. Of course, um, you knew that already, unless you didn't, um." You peek your head through the open counter window and look inside. A gruff, bloated man jovially sorts his meds and chems. "We call him Detox, uh, 'cause he's an apothecary, and all. But you knew that already, heh. Unless you didn't. Um."
Detox the apothecary stops his sorting, turns his head and regards you with a single, cloudy eye. With speed you thought impossible for his substantial bulk, he grabs your arm, pressing roughly. Of course, your hardened skin does not feel a thing, but you still feel offended. He stabs you with a syringe, and the needle breaks. The apothecary's mouth stretches into a grin. He lets go of your hand.
"See ya 'round, sis. Heh."
Slightly perturbed, you urge the scribe to take you elsewhere. "He doesn't seem fit for duty, doesn't he?" you ask the scribe. "I mean, he's only got one eye and he smells putrid!"
The scribe shrugs. "I mean, no one could possibly be as beautiful as you." He reddens. "But he's one of the healthiest and fittest here! And what do you mean by one eye?"
Confused, you wave it off and ask him to continue the 'tour'. He takes you to what you assume is the armory. "Yeah, I'm not allowed in there. Uh, but you could ask Entek, he's the tech-priest we've got onboard." You doubt even your supernatural charm would work on someone who is more machine than man, though you could try.
Finally, you come to a gilded double-doorway entrance. Your skin tingles. "This is where our chaplain, Tempestus, lives. Let me go get-" You grab his arm and his face reddens again.
"That won't be necessary." If what the posters said were true, priests of the God-Emperor - no, the corpse god, could breathe holy flame and flay the souls of the wicked. You do not want to test their validity.
"Um, that's everyone who's important, sorta. Oh! By the way, I, uh, my name is-" you cut him off with a finger to his lips. You need to think.
Your next course of action is to:
A. Interrogate the prisoners.
B. Talk to Sergeant Hooker.
C. Talk to Apothecary Detox.
D. Visit Tech-Priest Entek.
E. Face the chaplain Tempestus.
F. Wander around.
G. Do something else: ___
((Sorry if it's a little short. Hopefully as we move along it'll be filled with more content :/ ))