[b]Camp, Unknown[/b] [i]The Crimson Scar's Khan, Bracheous, had led him here. But here he sat, amongst heavily armed space marines giving him odd stares, just sitting in a very awkward sort of staring contest. The Void Wolves he hadn't met yet, or the Baltic Manticores, but that wasn't much his problem; Alon, sitting cross legged, eating some ice cream he had preserved in his pack, in a small enclosed tent with 3 other marines. One was sharpening his chainsword, the others checking their weapons, giving the occasional glance at the mage, bearing only a cloak and light plate armour. He felt like dwarf in comparison to the hulking soldiers with their massive weapons. They hadn't made any move to talk to him, and Alon kept looking from one to the other, trying to warrant some conversation. An hour passed, and Alon meditated. Six hours, and meditation turned to sleep. Fourteen hours later, Alon stirred from his state to find new marines in their spot; some sleeping, one cleaning his armour. Alon rose from the ground silently, exiting the tent, having raided all the food from that one.[/i] Y'all are really boring. Hm, let's go take a look over here. [i]Alon began walking around the camp, ignored by all the marines, but to any other it'd be quite an odd sight; behemoth soldiers, and a small, 6ft mage walking between them, like wind through great redwoods. Alon walked to find conversation, and that's what he'd do; find someone to talk to, or something to do. Either would be sufficient.[/i] [spoiler]Open[/spoiler]