{Dark Heresy} Apex Predators IC

[Cheesegear]

You feel the ship lurch grindingly as the freighter drops out of the Immaterium. Ten days. Ten days have you traveled the Warp. Not enough time to go into stasis, ten days being the minimum length required out of cryosleep to rehabilitate musculature. But, ten days in the Warp is just long enough for the beginnings of Warp Psychosis to set in.
Warp Psychosis, the madness brought on by din and echoes made by the...Things on the outside of the ship. Most people didn't know what lay on the outside on the ship. But, thanks to the Imperial Cult, the sermons, the lectures, given, and passed onto every citizen of the Imperium every, single day of his life; Most citizens had a pretty good idea of what lay outside...And what they would do if they got in.

...The Navigator was good. The Path was stable. Psy-shielding around the ship was more than enough to keep the monsters at bay. But, the things were out there. One only needed to listen. Techniques to stave off the madness, was, in general for non-essential personnel, anything that made you too tired to think. So tired that when you did sleep, there were no dreams. Physical labour. Mindless, repetitive weapons maintenance. Training regimes. Trying to understand theological texts. Meditation. And, if it could be found...The things men and women do in cramped quarters. More often the Guardsmen could stave off Warp Psychosis more than anyone else. They were trained to deal with it. The Primer taught them how.
Trips to the ship's Preacher, or the Medicae were encouraged. Sometimes mandated.

The freighter - the Azurean Star - captained by one Jonas Aries, an assumed name of course. Was bonded and a liscensed merchant vessel trading in the Malfian Sub-sector. Captain Aries dealt primarily in Iho, Recaff and moderate-strength Stimms. Sure, Iho and Recaff were cheap, but, Aries maintained that it was used everywhere from the High Lords of Terra themselves to the lowliest agri-worker was in need of Iho and Recaff. It was cheap, but it was permanent. In a matter of decades Captain Aries would have his start-up capital to break his contracts and become a full-fledged Rogue Trader on the outer reaches of the sub sector. Maybe even delving into the unknown Halo Stars.

Unfortunately, Iho, Recaff and Stimms are only the 'gateway' drugs. Aries was caught one day with higher-strength Stimms that he was licensed for, and carried a tangible stockpile of Obscura. Thankfully, it was one Inquisitor Racquel who uncovered his lucrative business, rather than an Aribtes Blockade. And gave him a choice; Free passage for herself, her small hab-shuttle (the Nox Lumina) and any accompanying staff she may be traveling with. Or, be stripped of all licenses, The Azurean Star impounded, and a one-way trip to the closest active Penal Legion to serve fifteen years against the enemies of mankind or until granted the Emperor's Salvation. Whichever came first.

However, funnily enough; Aries still traffics his narcotic wares. Racquel being rather lenient on anything that isn't outright heresy, mutation or Warpcraft. Of course, whatever keeps Aries in business, keeps him flying. Which, in turn, gives Racquel a decent ship to travel in at no expense. Expedience via Blackmail has always been one of the Inquisition's greatest tools. However, Racquel draws the line at Narcosis Psykana. Spook. As her acolytes know; Her leniency ends at Warpcraft.

Static blares throughout The Azurean Star mere seconds after the ship leaves the Warp as the Vox-system sparks to life.
"Welcome to the Ericles System." Jacqueline Racquel's voice blares. "Would my associates please make their way to the Captain's Stateroom?" the Inquisitor asked in a way that didn't sound like her associates had an option.

[Krrth]

Ishmael

The constant attempts to stay awake were nothing new to Ishmael. He's been doing that for years now. Lately he'd taken to wandering the ship, recaff on hand: and if traveling on a ship that carries recaff wasn't a sign of the Emperors love, Ishmael didn't know what was. As for the things in the warp outside invading his dreams.....they couldn't be worse than his normal dreams.

When the com crackled it's orders. Ishmael shrugged and made his way to the stateroom.

[Verruckt]

Phobo

The sister is kneeling in the Star's chancel when the vox blares throughout the ship. She finishes her benediction without hurry, having reached the last verses already. She has a small shrine set up in her quarters on the Nox but she prefers the size of the chapel on Arie's vessel. It's tiny compared to the cavernous Ecclesiarchy cathedrals she's visited, but it still beats the desk with a few candles and a pair of blessed phylacteries that passes as a place of worship in her cabin. Her prayer finished she rises and heads towards the stateroom. She wears the vestments of her order, a functional garment meant to be worn in combat without impeding movement or catching on armor, be it carapace or Sabbat pattern powered plate. She thuds down the corridor, wearing her armor at nearly all waking hours, her training telling her to use every moment to both venerate the Emperor and train for battle. She reaches the State room and pokes her dark cast features through the door, casting around for the Inquisitor.

"Master?"

[Lycan 01]

Davix

"Welcome to the Ericles System." Jacqueline Racquel's voice blared through the speaker system. "Would my associates please make their way to the Captain's Stateroom?" The Inquisitor's tone was one of authority, and it was obvious that her request was not to be denied.

Trooper Davix Thrope looked up from his Imperial Infantryman's Uplifting Primer, arching an eyebrow. He'd spent most of the last 10 days in his quarters reading and/or praying, and he'd paid little attention to the things going on inside and outside of the ship. With his new orders given, Davix gently closed his Primer and slide it into the left pants pocket of his uniform with silent reverance. He'd been asked before as to why he kept the Primer in that location, rather than in his backpack or in a pouch on his combat webbing. His answer was an odd one at best - he just prefered to keep it there. It was easy to get to, and the only way he'd lose it is if the leg went with it, in which case he'd be more focused on meeting the Emperor rather than relocating his encouraging Word. There was little arguing with the latter point...

His Primer safely pocketed, Trooper Thrope slowly rose to his feet from the kneeling position he'd been crouched in for the last few hours. His knees were sore and his joints popped as he straightened his legs out, but he didn't notice - it was an everyday thing, and he'd grown blind to the pain many, many years ago. Looking around, he made a quick mental note of what he needed. Backpack? No. It was too bulky, and the most he'd be given to carry was a file folder or data slate. His weapons? His orders were to attend a meeting, not storm a bunker. Flak armor? He already had it on out of habit. In the end, he decided to go to the meeting with naught more than his Primer, his armor atop his uniform, his laspistol at his waist, his combat blade strapped to his boot, and a determination to fullfill the Emperor's Will without question.

"The Emperor Protects..." Trooper Davix Thrope muttered with a small nod as he left his quarters and began to make his way to the meeting.

[Aemoth]

Benedict Aurelius

The past ten days for Benedict had been very limited in activity. His time was spent doing one of three things, prayer, breaking down and rebuilding his flamer and spare fuel tanks, or in a deep state of meditation that he was using to substitute for sleep while travelling through the warp. Over the past few years he had grown accustom to nice living quarters as he toured the sector preaching of the Emperor's Light and the redeeming power of the Flame. None of those luxuries were on the freighter and it was already difficult to sleep with the background noise from outside the ship.

As the Azurean Star left warp Benedict found himself drawn out of a deep meditative prayer in the ships chapel. He had chosen a spot out of the way and in a dark corner the night before so as to not interfere with any of the other crew members or the ship's chaplain. Benedict’s eyes began to move around the room as his body tried to catch up with his mind and relax from the trance like state he had been in. Aside from the chaplian and a ship hands there was only one other person of interest, the Battle Sister Phobo. Phobo had been spending almost as much time in the chapel as he had and Benedict couldn’t help but smile to realize he would be working with someone with the same devotion as he had for the Emperor.

The Redemptionist stood from his kneeling position, his flamer still mechanically clamped in his hand. Benedict stretched as the Inquisitors voice blared over the vox. ”And here I was thinking I would never get a chance to use you again.” He pets the top of his flamer as he makes his way for the door of the chapel. ”Let us go see what she wants. Hopefully we won’t have much more time stuck on this ship; I think the priest here is sick of me taking over his sermons.”

Benedict made his way quickly through the freighter and arrived at the Captains room. He quietly stepped inside and took his place among the other acolytes.

[The_Shaman]

"Welcome to the Ericles System." Jacqueline Racquel's voice blares. "Would my associates please make their way to the Captain's Stateroom?" the Inquisitor asked in a way that didn't sound like her associates had an option.

Sectıon DCCVI, Artıcle LXVIII, paragraph XXI: should any of the above offenses be commıtted ın a manner that ıs constıtuent of a mısdemeanor accordıng to Sectıon LLII, Artıcle XXII, paragraph IV, vız. lack of proper preparatıon for the purıfıcatıon rıtes, the penance must also ınclude, but ıs not lımıted to: confıscatıon of all prıvately held goods or chatels, ıncludıng servants and any servıtors leased from other organızatıons, bondage or penal legıon assıgnment for no less than 10 years under severe condıtıons, and breakıng of any oblıgatıons held to the guılty party by any thırd persons, the same oblıgatıons beıng carrıed out to the relevant Imperıal authorıtıes or the Ecclesıarchy, as approprıate as per addendum CCXXXIX, Chapt...

Garvel raısed hıs head from the copy of the Abrıdged Imperıal Justıce Code he had been readıng ın the meantıme. Durıng hıs traınıng, he once had to be hospıtalızed after readıng from the book for a mere sıx hours, but the last ten "days" had seen hım do that for much longer. He was stıll far from havıng anythıng more than the most basıc command, but there were few better thıngs to drıve your mınd to utter exhaustıon. Thıs had two obvıous benefıts - fırst, ıt offered some protectıon agaınst the ınfluence of the thıngs... beyond, but ıf he read the rıght passages he also thought less about the sıtuatıon they were currently ın, havıng a deal wıth a narco-rat. Prayers and traınıng dıd help wıth that, certaınly, and he was perfectly aware that as a member of the Inquısıtıon, no, The Holy Orders of the Emperor's Inquisition, hıs master had the power to ıssue, repeal or amend any sentence as she saw fıt (addendum VII, chapter III).

He just dıdn´t lıke ıt much. Thıs was no dreggıe urchın, and Garvel had seen quıte a few cases of what obscura dıd. He hoped ıt was worth ıt... and that the day the Captaın would receıve the Emperor´s last benedıctıon would not be far ahead.

He rose, and the telltale shıvers ın hıs joınts told hım that he should get to see a Medıcae as soon as possıble. He ıgnored them; hıs duty came fırst. He had some faılıngs as a trooper, but the duty was more than just what an arbıtrator dıd - ıt was what arbıtrator was. He groaned as he pushed hımself from the desk and took a moment to steady hıs feet before walkıng out. Hıs mınd was stıll occupıed wıth the code, but he shook hıs head, puttıng ıt all ın somewhere ın the back of hıs braın. He saw Ishmael on the corrıdor, just passıng hıs door, and nodded to the psyker. Throne be wıth you, Ishmael. he saıd and followed hım.

[SuperMuldoon]

Malakai

Malakai took a running jump between the rooftops, his rifle slung and sword sheathed across his back. Landing in stride without so much as a whisper of a sound he scanned the rooftop quickly and settled in to what he determined to be the best location. Unslinging his rifle and going prone, he peered through the scope at the building across the way. Third window from the left, 49th floor, adult male... Malakai ran through his targets description and sighted him through the rifle's scope. Lining up the crosshairs he squeezed the trigger and-


"Welcome to the Ericles System." Jacqueline Racquel's voice blares. "Would my associates please make their way to the Captain's Stateroom?" the Inquisitor asked in a way that didn't sound like her associates had an option.

Malakai opened his eyes and slowly rose to his feet from his sitting position. He didn't like having his visualization training interrupted. At least he got done with his physical training regimen before being interrupted. Quickly grabbing his gear he strode out of his quarters and headed for the stateroom.

[Krrth]

Ishmael

*Nodding to Garvel

And you as well. Are you well? You seem a little....dazed.

[The_Shaman]

Garvel

Hmm, I probably look lıke somethıng a grox dumped. Well, not lıke I am meetıng... actually I am meetıng a woman, technıcally. I just doubt she cares.

Garvel smıled faıntly, then nodded. I was busy readıng up on some texts whıle we were travelıng. How are you?

[Verruckt]

Phobo's search for the Inquisitor is interrupted as the voices of her fellow acolytes fill up the corridor behind her. She spots of her companions coming through a bulkhead and greets each of them.

"Davix, I want that copy of Lasgunner back. Not that I don't trust you with it, but the one I lent to Master Raquel's cogboy came back with... stains."

She looks up for a moment, shakes her head and looks past Davix to the red robed priest behind him.

"Pater Benedict, semper peratus, semper fidelis, but do you ever put that thing down?"

She motions toward his always clutched flamer.

[Krrth]

Ishmael

*chuckling*


let me put it to you this way....did you know our host carries 23 different flavors of Recaff?

[Aemoth]

Benedict pauses for a moment in thought before responding toward the Battle Sister.

"No. . . I am not in the habit of giving my enemies the opportunity to act before I do." He tosses his right arm back so that the flamer rests on his shoulder. "That, combined with my faith in the purifying power of the flame make for a good enough excuses - at least in my mind - to never set it down. After all, do you ask the Men of Mars why they replace themselves with metal parts, or the Guardsmen why they carry their Primers? In these times there are things that are, and things that are not. These are accepted truths that need not be questioned or speculated over."

The cleric ends his little speech with a smile and a nod.

[Verruckt]

As Benedict speaks Phobo unconsciously rolls a bead on the chaplet around her neck between her gloved thumb and forefinger. She smiles slightly, realising the truth of the mans words.

"Insightful as always Pater. Like a schola instructor, but with the will to cleanse the enemies of the Imperium, a pleasant combination it must be said. Now, where is Master Raquel?"

[SuperMuldoon]

Malakai walks through the door to the captain's stateroom, seeing a few of his comrades in idle conversation. He gives a nod in their direction as he takes a position up along the wall, waiting for whatever orders he will recieve.

[The_Shaman]

Garvel

Garvel notices Malakai, and nods towards the captain's Stateroom before turning to Ishmael. Indeed? And are the flavors actually different?

[Lycan 01]

Davix

Trooper Thrope suddenly found himself encircled by the entire Acolyte cell, it seemed. He hadn't really gotten to know many of them except for the Battle Sister, but he had a bit of an idea as to who everybody was. He found himself bemused by this sudden turn of events, and looks back and forth amongst the people around him.

There was the Psyker, Ishmael, clad in tattered robes and lacking any trace of hair. Davix was curious as to why the man had no eyebrows. It was understandable for a person to shave their head, but why their eyebrows? Davix didn't want to ask about it, either. He didn't like to talk to Psykers; he'd been raised not to trust them, and even if Ishmael was on his team, he found it hard to feel comfortable around him. It was nothing personal, of course...

Then there was Benedict Aurelius. Davix respected a man who was serious about his service to the Emperor, although he did feel a bit nervous about being so close to him. It wasn't the priest himself that unsettled him. It was the flamer. Being in the Imperial Guard, Davix knew what sort of trouble those things where. Fire was difficult to control, although an expert such as Benedict probably knew how to make the flames dance to his tune. But one stray bullet was all it would take to turn the good father, as well as anybody within a few yards of him, into a rather toasty bondfire.

Also present was a very weary-looking Garvel Drake, who's black and white hair looked slightly dishelven and gave creedence to his nickname of "Mongel." The Arbitrator looked as though he'd worn himself out doing something rather draining for the last several hours. Which was kind of odd, as Davix had assumed him to have a bit of a laid-back persona...

Leaning against a nearby wall as if trying to dissappear into it was the young assassin known as Malakai. Davix didn't really know much about him, other than what he looked like and that he dealt in the business of death. Chances were that he wouldn't be learning much else about him easily...

Finally there was Lachryma Phoebosa, the Sister of Battle who apparently prefered to go by "Phobo." She'd been nice to Davix since he'd gotten on the ship, even lending him one of her magazines. Davix regarded her with awed respect. He'd heard the story about her leading a troop of Guardsmen to victory, and Sisters of Battle were already well-regarded and respected amongst the Imperial Guard. Somebody who was as brave and pious as her was somebody Davix was very happy to have on his side. And plus, she didn't have a big bomb strapped to her back like some sort of bullseye, unlike the red robed priest behind him.

"I'll get it back to you after the meeting, Sister..." Davix nodded politely. "I found the article on the Steel Legions' lasguns to be quite interesting. Especially the part about the Techpriests having to bless whole batches, rather than the individual weapons, during the worst of the Ork sieges..."

He then turned to face the Psyker, hoping to at least try to build some sense of comraderie between himself and Ishmael. But he found himself hard pressed to conquer a lifetime of anti-Psyker teaching, and he struggled to get the words out. "So... Ishmael... You said there were... 23 flavers?" Maybe they'll think its because I'm not used to being social... he fretted to himself. While it was true that Davix didn't talk much, it wasn't because he was anti-social or uncomfortable around people. He just didn't usually have much to say... "I've... uh... tried 17 flavors so far, and they all... tasted like Ork piss. Um... which ones would you... uh... suggest?" Davix tried to smile. Somehow, he doubted the expression on his face looked all that friendly, but it was worth a shot...

[Krrth]

Ishmael

*falling in next to Davix and Garvel*

Orc piss? I must admit, that's one flavor I can't compare to. To be fair, most of the "Flavors" seem to differ only by how long the socks used to brew them had been worn.

I prefer number twenty one. It's closest to a blend I favored on Holy Terra: Earl Grey.

*noticing the look on the troopers face, Ishmael smiled*

You don't have to worry about me. I've been promised that if I....turn, I'll be granted the Emperor's Mercy. For which I am profoundly thankful.


*shrug*

Not that I expect it will be necessary mind you. They were quite....thorough in the sanctioning process.

[SuperMuldoon]

Malakai continues watching and listening to the group. What a varied lot he was going to be working with...Malakai was used to all different kinds of people, but killing them, not working with them. He had ended people who had probably started out just like everyone here - especially the Psyker. Those were a dangerous lot.


You don't have to worry about me. I've been promised that if I....turn, I'll be granted the Emperor's Mercy. For which I am profoundly thankful.

Upon hearing this Malakai makes a gun shape with his right hand and nonchalantly points it at Ishmael while still leaning up against the wall. He 'pulls the trigger' and makes a quiet gun noise with his mouth. "Mercy granted." he says under his breath.

[Lycan 01]

Davix watched Malakai's gesture with a slight feeling of... discomfort. He didn't trust the Psyker, but he didn't look forward to trying to kill him, either. This Malakai was clearly more than just an assassin by trade. His whole life was obviously devoted to death. He must have eat, sleeped, and breathed the act of killing every day. He couldn't help but wonder if it was just the Psyker's life that was of little worth to the assassin...

Davix returned his attention back to Ishmael. "Number 21, you say? I'll have to... look into that. And I'm not worried about you... um... turning, exactly. I'm just not... comfortable around Psykers... in general." He shrugged, trying to show that he wasn't trying to be mean about it. "Nothing personal. Just how I was raised."

Davix suddenly realized a way to lighten the mood, and shift the focus of the conversation from himself. "Your sanctioning... Is that... why you don't have eyebrows?" he asked with what he hoped was a curious smile, poking at his own hairy brows.

[Verruckt]

Phobo takes up a lean against the wall and joins in the conversation.

"Can't say I've ever had much taste for recaff. Time was it'd be amasec if it was handy, gutterbeer mixed in the Schola's tertiary pumping unit if it wasn't. Supposed to be cutting back on that now... re-filtrated water day in and day out. Anyway, Davix, don't worry yourself about the psyker. If it starts doing anything that's more of an affront to mankind than usual there'll be a race between Malakai, the Good Pater and myself to see who puts it down first."

She speaks nonchalantly, never once passing her eyes over Ishmael as she details his demise with cool objectifying disdain. In truth her feelings about the man give her fits. Raised in a Schola Progenium and then indoctrinated by the Ecclesiarchy she has a deeply inculcated hatred of his kind. But she'd never met one in person before Ishmael, and his general lack of horns or fangs or the need to subsist on the flesh of infants, along with the fact that he looked so... human. It unnerved her to say the least. One day she would ask Master Racquel why she put up with his presence, and perhaps gain some measure of understanding from it.

[Cheesegear]

The stateroom is lit with multiple small glow-globes set around the room, designed to allow maximum light in all corners of the room, and cast little shadow. The contents of the room consists of a large rectangular table, around which, fourteen or fifteen chairs are around. The steel floor under the table is covered by a heavy rug, depicting some bizarre pattern that would've taken months to weave and probably would have set the purchaser back enough thrones to feed about six Block-Habs in any given Hive for a week. In the centre of the table is a three-sixty degree holo-device and a signal transpoder with a Vox-speaker set into the table.

The bulkhead to the stateroom pushed inwards. Inquisitor Jacqueline Racquel stepped through first, dressed in a matte-black bodyglove - like most Inquisitors - and a dark red cape fastened at her throat by a chain, which, in the centre, held her Inquisitorial Rosette. At her left hip, she wore her strange, exotic Eldar sword with it's large ruby-coloured gem set into the hilt. Dangling from a heavy chain attatched to her belt, was a heavy Rosarius. The icon of those who had a very good reputation within the Eccliesiarchy, and along with that standing, came a fanatical - and almost insane - devotion to the Emperor. Her long black hair was tied back in braided Grox's tail and her grey eyes scanned the room. She seemed evidently pleased that her Acolytes had waited for her before they sat down. The Inquisitor nods to the romm at large. "Acolytes." she gives a half-smile and waves her left hand which is laden with her two nondescript rings she keeps on her person at all times. "Please, sit."

Merchant-Captain Jonas Aries swaggers through the bulkhead after her. He's now clean-shaven instead of the bad-taste beard-and-moustache appearance he had when you boarded The Azurean Star. His eyes also seem somewhat focused. Evidently being in the company of Mistress Racquel has been sobering. Jonas is dressed in a simple brown pants-and-beige shirt combo. However, over that, is a purple greatcoat cut in the style - and perhaps in parody, given the colour - of Imperial Naval Captains, the bleached epaulettes and cuffs setting stark contrast to the rest of the coat, and faded brass buttons undone. Clenched in his teeth is an unlit Iho-Cigar, almost two fingers wide. And, surprisingly, instead of his right hand being where it was when you last saw him, is an augmetic multi-tool, around the 'stump' of which, is wrapped a bloody banage. He immediately takes the chair at the head of the table, and, in a word that can only be described as plonking, he sits in his chair. He leans back, so the chair-head catches on the wall, and brings his feet up and crosses them on the table. He reaches his left hand into his greatcoat pocket, and draws a small box carrying the design of a Flamer. He flicks the top of the silver box, and a flame pops to life, as the Captain begins to puff his cigar to get it to light. He then leans back, and blows his smoke directly into the air-recycler vent set into the wall above him. And then begins glaring at his right 'hand'-multi-tool. The tool shudders a fraction. Jonas sighs (letting out Iho-smoke) and looks up at the acolytes, the tool still twitching in his lap. "I insist, sit. It's only a matter of time before the Ericles Fleet calls us."

[Lycan 01]

Davix

It seemed that discussion time was over. Slightly dissappointed that he would not be learning the secret of Ishmael's eyebrows, Davix headed over to the nearest chair, and slowly took his seat at the end of the table opposite of the captain. He wanted to keep a nice distance between himself and the trader, as the man didn't seem like the sort you'd want to turn your back to or give any other sort of advantage against you. Without a word, Davix sat back in his chair, folded his hands in his lap, and awaited his orders.

[Verruckt]

Phobo tries to keep the smile off of her face and barely succeeds to maintain her solemn composure at the Inquisitor's entrance. She desperately needs a mentor in her life, and for now Racquel is it, until she dies or Phobo finds someone better. She let's out a somewhat faltering "Yes, Master" and finds a seat next to Davix.

[Krrth]

Ishmael

Ishmael was about to respond when Racquel walked in. Giving a "Well continue later" gesture, he moved over and sat directly across from the Inquisitor.

[SuperMuldoon]

Malakai

Malakai watches as the Inquisitor makes her grand entrance, followed by the captain of the ship Jonas Aries. After being instructed to sit, Malakai finds a seat near the back - he wanted to keep everyone in sight.

[Aemoth]

Benedict finds a seat across from Inquisitor Racquel, but not directly beside anyone, leaving one open seat on both sides. He rests his flamer across his lap and sits back in the chair. After watching the others find seats he relaxes slightly and uses his left thumb to support his head with two fingers bracing the side of his head.

[Cheesegear]

The Holo-Vox flashes to life as the standard green emissions burst forth from the centre of the table. Incoming message from the Office of the Planetary Governor of Ericles IV. Appears in translucent light. The reaction of Jonas Aries is immediate. His feet come crashing down to the floor, he plucks his cigar from his mouth - with his left hand - and sends in careening over to the wall. He pats himself down, trying to smooth out his greatcoat. "Oh, crap!" the Captain exclaims. Sweat already beading at his forehead.
Jacqeline frowns "Directly from the Office?" as she raises an eyebrow. "Aren't you popular?
"Oh, crap." Jonas repeats.

The Holo springs to life unbidden. As the face and shoulders of a man, perhaps in his mid-thirties appears in the holo. He is clean-shaven and sports a haircut similar to anyone who has ever served in the military for any length of time. In fact, his collar boasts a pair Imperial Eagles. Even more worthy of note is the Astartes service stud buried in his left temple.

"Jonas Aries, shipmaster of The Azurean Star I hereby, under the orders of Quarentena Extremis, order you to turn away from orbit, and go back to where you came from."
"What. Did. You. Do?" seethes Jacqueline in a whisper.
Stubborn, Aries replies "You're not the Governor."
A smirk plays on the man's face. "No. I'm not. I executed him two days ago under the punishment of gross incompetence. My name is Colonel Lucas Alexander, and, as of twelve days ago, I declared the Ericles System under Martial Law. Now, Mister Aries, your ship the Azurean is flagged on this particular planet's sensors. So, I suggest you turn the frak around, before I find out why this planet doesn't like you. Get out of my System. I will not. Ask again."
Jacqueline immediately gets out of her chair, utters a curse, and "Move." as she slams Captain Aries and his chair to the floor. Jonas lets out a low moan. Inquisitor Racquel plants herself in Aries' spot, both hands on the table. Maybe the holo-vox was viewable from three-sixty degrees? But, it was evident that whoever was speaking on the other end could only address the head of the table.

The Colonel's head bobs down for a fraction of a second. Apparently noticing Jacquline's rosette in the centre of her chest (perhaps among other things? A career-Guarsdman could be like that, no matter his rank). Colonel Alexander snaps to parade-attention, even though only his head and shoulders were visible, it was easy to guess that both his feet were right next to each other. Lucas gave a parade salute. "Ma'am." apparently his authoritarian method of speech was not directed at (obvious) Inquisitors.

"Colonel." the Inquisitor didn't salute. "I am Inquisitor Racquel. 'Ma'am', is fine." she grins. "I picked up your Astropathic signal exactly twelve days ago, requiring someone of my...Skills. As of those twelve days ago, Shipmaster Aries has been under my...Care." she turns towards Jonas, now sitting up against the wall. "So...Martial Law, is it? How can I help." it wasn't a question.

"Ma'am, as much as I appreciate the Governor's Vox, and that it's signal can't be refused." At that, Jonas' eyes widen in sudden realisation. He should've been told, or at least had warning of an incoming Vox. "I can almost guarantee that it isn't secure. I can brief you in detail when you make it Dir...When you make Planetfall."
"I look forward to it." the female Inquisitor smiles.
Colonel Alexander executes another salute. "Ma'am." the man in the holo's head looked down, and a click was heard from somewhere off-screen. Half a moment later, the Vox-signal died.

"You heard him. Everyone in the Nox, looks like we're getting a drop." came Jacqueline's order. She turns on Jonas. "If you leave whilst we're dirtside...I'll find you." that was her threat. No glorious outbursts of how much pain he'd be in. No bizarre punishments to be meted out. I'll find you.

"Be ready in ten." she tells you. As she picks up Jonas by the scuff of his collar, and marches him out the bulkhead.

[The_Shaman]

Garvel

Garvel had found the conversation slipping in a decidedly unpleasant direction, and was somewhat glad to slip into the meeting room. He had reviewed its furnishings with a trained eye. A rug like that meant the captain's operations were quite profitable.

At his master's behest, he sat on a chair near the others. The captain's new appendage interested him - or rather, the manner in which it was acquired. It was a bit extreme for an accident, and given its timing he had a theory the Inquisitor might somehow be involved in it. What for, however?

He sat there, silent, at the exchange via the vox and between the Inquisitor and the captain. A military coup was a rather uncommon occurence - as far as he knew governors had a myriad of legal obligations, but these were seldom watched from anyone on the planet itself. This colonel had sent out a signal almost immediately, calling for his master's attention, and had reasons to distrust non-direct communication. From what little he knew of xenos most were too savage to do something like monitor such communication - but then again, he knew quite little of xenos. It was not wise to make any theories without more information.

They were going into something very, very big, that much he was sure of, he thought with a smile.

[Lycan 01]

Davix

For the first few moments of the meeting, Davix had sat back and observed quietly. But the moment the Colonel's image had appeared via holo-link, Davix's right hand had shot up to a salute that had not faltered until the Colonol's holo-rendered head faded from existance, at which point his hands had returned to their folded position in his lap. While he had probably not even been noticed, Trooper Thrope was a Guardsman through-and-through, and he'd never deny a commanding officer the respect they deserved. Davix then listened with rapt attention to his Inquisitor. Ten minutes to prepare for a drop?

He'd be ready with time to spare.

As soon as Inquisitor Racquel had left the room, Davix rose to his feet and began to stride towards the exit. He paused near the door, however, and turned back to face his new "brothers in arms" for a moment. With a comraderic smirk, he states matter-o'-factly: "The Emperor Protects. " He then quickly bolts out the door and heads into the hallway outside to find the way back to his quarters.

[Verruckt]

Phobo watches her Inquisitor maneuver the odd situation thrust towards her with mildly restrained awe. She was almost positive about the origin of the Captain's stump, but it barely even warranted notice. Losing a hand was a slap on the wrist (albeit with a cleaver) compared to what the Sisters could muster up. An Arco Flagellant, now that was punishment. She sist stiff and at attention throughout the whole meeting, and tries to straighten even further when the Colonel/Governor appears, as if desperately trying to become two dimensional.

She offers an Ave Imperator to the Inquisitor as she leaves and double-times out the opposite bulkhead herself. She heads for her quarters aboard the Nox and makes fast her gear, stowing ammunition, sliding the bayonet into its lugs and generally battening down the hatches. Her nerves tingle slightly, the goosebumpy sensation she gets before a fight. The communication in the state room gave her the distinct impression there could soon be combat, or at the very least trouble, when they made it dirtside. She makes her final preparations, opening a small box in the makeshift shrine in her quarters and withdrawing a number of bracelets and trinkets. A necklace of heavy stubber cases, with an engraved bolt shell at its apex goes around her neck, along with a simple gold aquilla, bringing her necklace quota up to three. Around each wrist goes a circlet of silver inlaid with the enamel from a saint's teeth. Of course the teeth are fake and the bolt shell was a misfire, but the stubber rounds were pulled from the gun that nearly killed her and presented as a gift by the Brontian squad she assisted that day, so ther is some sentimental value in them at least.

Having made everything ready Phobo kneels before the shrine and begins to pray "E Nomine Imperator..."

[SuperMuldoon]

Malakai


"Be ready in ten."
The second the Inquisitor finishes those words, Malakai is up and headed back to his quarters, barely hearing Davix address the group with his 'Emperor Protects' as he walks down the hall. Though upon hearing it his hand instinctively goes to the aquilla pendant around his neck. "The Emperor Protects" he whispers to himself as he enters his quarters.

He makes quick work of assembling his gear. Strapping on his tactical vest he checks every pocket to make sure everything is where its supposed to be - ammunition, knife, stimm, concealed laspistol. Malakai picks up his sword, unsheathes it and does a few quick cuts, slicing the air around him before resheathing it and fitting it on his back. Finally, he grabs his rifle. He sights through the scope, checks the barrel and chamber - spotless, as always. Slinging it over his back, he heads back out into the hallway heading for their gathering point before the drop.

[Krrth]

Ishmael

Bowing his head when the Inquisitor finished, he quietly stood up and left the room.

Jogging to his room, he quickly gathered what little gear he didn't already have on him and headed off to the hanger.

[The_Shaman]

Garvel

Garvel rose from the chair and nodded towards the guardsman, returning the blessing with a smile. The Emperor protects, before going back to his room. The Emperor protected the faithful and the true, but he also gave them strength to smite the false in his name.

He entered his quarters and closed the open book with a feeling of finality. There was not much to pack, he would be done quickly. He stood in front of a mirror, looking at his reflection appraisingly. Unlike some - most, really - army uniforms, the regular arbitrator uniform was not designed with camouflage in mind. It was meant to announce the coming of the Emperor's justice, not conceal it. He took it off to put the mesh vest on before putting it back on, and started collecting his gear.

The rucksack laid on the floor by his bunk. The book went in, and it was soon followed by other things - a pack of lho sticks, an injector with a few doses of stimm. His regular weapon - the shotgun - was in its locker; he opened it and, despite having checked it up only a few hours ago, went through it as usual. Everything was in top condition, and the cleaned steel seemed to shine with a light of its own. Ammunition - present. In the ammo belt. Club - present. There was a ring on his belt to which it could be attached; it always needed to be at hand. Knuckles - in the backpack. Knife - in the boot, hidden. Everything else went where its place was. He had an extra minute or so, and closed his eyes in short prayer. "From the false, the unrighteous, and the mutant preserve us, Emperor, and grant us power to overcome them in your name. For you are our sword and shield, our armor and weapon, and by your wish our fate is held. We bring your word and will today, and we beseech you to bless us with your favor."

He opened them again, and looked at the Arbites badge on his uniform. The Emperor's justice was coming to this world, and it would not be denied.

[Lycan 01]

Davix

It had only taken him a few moments to get everything together. Everything Trooper Thrope owned or needed was either on his person or in his backpack. His knife was in his boot, his pistol was at one side, and his sword was on the other. His flak armor's combat webbing held 12 shotgun shells, one las-pistol charge pack, and two grenades. His Primer was still in his left pants pocket, safe from harm and comforting to his heart. And his backpack contained 20 more shotgun shells, another charge pack, an extra grenade, a lamp pack, and a spare uniform.

Davix threw his backpack on, checked the straps to make sure they were secure, and then grabbed the last two things he needed. First, he grabbed his shotgun off his desk, and quickly glanced over it. It was an over-under double-barrel close-range unclean-purging work of art. He broke it open, and examined the two shells already inserted into the breach. With a faint smirk, he slightly adjusted them so that the Aquilas imprinted on the ammunition would be perfectly aligned. He then slapped it back into firing position, and slung it over his shoulder. Finally, as he headed out the door, he grabbed Photo's magazine off his nightstand.

Davix quickly made his way to the gathering point, stopping by the Battle Sister's quarters along the way. As he neared her door, he overheard prayers coming from within. He paused, and then quietly set the magazine down in front of the door. He then quickly continued on his way, proud of the fact that he still had a few minutes to spare.

[Aemoth]

Benedict had no reason to return to his quarters, after all everything he needed was already with him. As the Inquisitor finished up her command several of the acolytes bolted from the room and he quickly found himself alone in the room with little to do for the next ten minutes. With nothing else to do he decided to make his way to their destination and meet everyone there.

As Benedict walked his way from the room he crossed his off hand across his chest in a one-handed sign of the Aquila and began to chant a prayer that he planned to recite along his walk to the Nox.

Oh, Eternal Emperor
Who Alone watches us,
And rules the tides and storms
Be compassionate to your servants
Preserve us from the perils of the warp,
That we may be your safeguard to the domain of men!

Once he arrives at the ship he lifts his arm to bless the group individually as they arrive.

Lay a fire within your soul
And another between your hands,
And let both be your weapons.
For one is faith
And the other is victory
And neither may ever be extinguished.

[Verruckt]

Phobo finishes her prayers and makes for the the shuttle only to nearly slip headlong after planting a foot on the magazine at her door step. Barely righting herself in time in a mes of flailing limbs and jangling charms she look down at the unintentional boobytrap and something halfway between a smirk and a glare crosses her face. She plucks it up and tosses it over her shoulder onto the bed before the door to her cabin closes.

When she reaches the muster point she kneels to receive Benedict's benediction, and then joins him in blessing the rest of their band.

[Krrth]

Ishmael

Ishmael bends his head for a blessing, and hopes to receive one.

[Verruckt]

When the psyker kneels before her and the priest Phobo balks momentarily. The deeply ingrained reactionary centers of her mind bring the Catechism of Hate up towards her lips unbidden, but she stops that too. She looks to Benedict.

"Pater, it may be touched by the warp, but it serves our Inquisitor and would do battle beside us. Do you remember the words to the Blessing of Protection from Daemonic Presence?"

[Lycan 01]

Davix

Davix stood nearby, recieving the blessings that Benedict had so graciously offered. He stood at rapt attention, heels together, shotgun at his feet, his back straight, and his right hand locked in a perfect salute. He was not just saluting Benedict, his blessing, or the Holyiness of their mission. He was saluting the Emperor himself.

Trooper Thrope's left arm was firmly clasped against his side, and as he listened he absent-mindedly thumbed his palm. The gesture involved folding his thumb in against his palm, and keeping his fingers straight to make the gesture of an eagle's wing in representation of the Aquila. It was a sign of good luck that was very common amongst the Imperial Guard, even with the Commissars.

As Davix received his blessing, he noticed Ishmael bend down in front of Phobo. He also noticed the brief look of apprehension that flashed across the Battle Sister's face. For a moment, her lips started to work to form an angry snarl, and Davix had a feeling she was about to pronounce upon the Psyker something far different from a blessing. However, she managed to catch herself in time, it seemed, and she turned towards Benedict instead.

Davix sighed inwarldy. The team needed to work together as best as possible. Sure, there was some mistrust with the Psyker, and the assassin gave him the heebie-jeebies. But if everybody started proclaiming curses and shouting condemnation upon each other, this mission would go about was smoothly as an Ork tea party. As Sister Phobo asked the Priest about the Blessing of Protection from Daemonic Presence, Davix suddenly found himself with an odd, irking feeling that he'd heard that before.

He remembered now. The memories came flooding back to him. His first combat experience... Davix's salute faltered slightly. He remembered the Priests blessing his unit before the drop, back when he'd been a fresh recruit. He remembered some soldiers starting to break down and cry as the enemy drew near, some even trying to make a run for it. He remembered the barking of the Commissar's bolt pistol... the endless barking...

Davix shook his head slightly, hurling the memories from his mind and into the abyss. It hadn't been as bad as he seemed remembered, he rationalized. His imagination had a way of exaggerating details, and glossing over facts. His first combat experience had been nothing more than a small skirmish, and he'd barely even fired a shot. At at least... he didn't think he did...

[SuperMuldoon]

Malakai

Malakai enters the muster point as quiet as a ghost, to find the priest and the battle sister blessing the various members of their motley crew. He watches the two deal with the psyker - if Malakai could feel pity, he might do so at the harsh treatment of Ishmael. As it was, he steps around the psyker and presents his rifle to the battle sister, pulling back the slide and exposing the chambered round. He looks at Phobo expectantly with cold, unfeeling eyes.

"I am the Emperor's blade. None shall escape His judgement."

[Verruckt]

Phobo looks almost relieved when the assassin stepped forward. He was a quiet sort, and she didn't really know him on a real personal level, but blessing him and his weapon gave her a happy way to duck out of the theological dilemma Ishmael represented. She knows that the Ecclesiarchy has made use of assassins as holy warriors, and hopes Malakai is of a simillar mindset. She looks to him and takes the proffered weapon, leaving Ishmael to Benedict's ministrations. She does an quick drill inspection of the rifle, appreciating the power of the weapon if not the somewhat unwieldy length, and speaks the following:

"When the Greenskin Xenos Hordes assaulted Hive Primus on Golgathan II, the defenders and priests of that place prayed for divine intervention. A great fire swept the underhive, killing xeno and man alike, but the Emperor's Voice was not in the Fire. An earthquake shook the ground, swallowing whole platoons and threatening to topple the tallest spires of that place, but the Emperor's Voice was not in the earthquake. The Emperor's Voice was in the muffled report of an Vindicare's rifle, in a shot that beheaded the Waaagh, and saved billions. You are indeed His Blade, and this rifle is His messenger. Let it speak to the Enemies of Man."

She snaps the chamber shut, bringing the round back into battery and hands the gun back to Malakai.

[SuperMuldoon]

Malakai

Malakai takes his rifle back from Phobo and gives an almost imperceptible nod of thanks. "Emperor be praised." He says as he walks silently over to a wall and leans up against it, looking around the room at everyone. He had killed everyone in the room at least 10 times since the journey began - in his mind of course - the psyker at least 20. He had to know how best to kill them, had to know the most efficient way in peparation for any outcome of their mission. The exception being the Sister of Battle. He had killed rogue priests, traitor guardsmen, crime lords, arbitrators, rich people, poor people, healthy people, sick people, psykers - especially psykers, but he was never given an assignment to kill anyone from the Adeptas Sororitas. They were among the most zealous in their devotion to the Emperor - or so he heard. Still, better safe then sorry - he killed her again just to make it an even 10 times.

[The_Shaman]

Garvel

Garvel always felt a little uncomfortable around the priest - not that his Hive did not have ministers aplenty, but they tended to be very different from the flamer-wielding zealot in this room... Even the Sister Militant seemed more... normal, in a way, than Benedict. If nothing else, she reminded him of those combat veterans who taught him during his training, only with much less cynicism. The men and women back there had sarcasm that could dissolve ferrocrete.

He bowed his head down during the priest's prayer, hoping that they find victory and avoid demise in the coming investigation. He smiled inwardly - the preacher, for all his... eccentricities, knew how to rouse a crowd. Hopefully he would have equal respect for the Emperor's Law as the devotion he had to His creed. The academy and precinct he had been in had little use of priests in their regular proceedings, but of course he and his colleagues had been told to seek ministrations or confessions at times, and there were a few cases in recent history - not ones he himself had been a part of, higher-echelon work - where the Ecclesiarchy's expertise in matters of heresy was utilized. By and large, the clergy was one of the more reliable strata of society as far as he was concerned, but he had heard more than a few rumors and remarks about the firebrands of various orders.

He hoped that that his associates would not do something that would put him in a situation where he might have to react... He was troubled enough with his Master's association with this trader, but she was an Inquisitor. She was allowed to take such measures. They were not, on both accounts.

The benediction was over and he looked up, sizing his associates yet again. To be honest, he thought, most of the crew probably wouldn't give him any trouble. Davix, Phobo, and Ishmael (barring any... incidents, Throne forbid, but then the course was clear enough) did not trouble him too much. At the very least, he expected that they could be talked out of doing something stupid. Benedict was tricky, true. The last one... he really had to keep an eye on him. The Imperium trained many assassins, but as far as Garvel was concerned, most "assassins" were just that - ruthless hitmen and murderers, much more likely to take their pay and orders from local crime lords than anything resembling or benefitting the Imperial authorities. So here this Malakai was, a religious zealot (probably) who had total disregard for anything but his orders and would most likely turn on anyone if he decided they were hampering his purpose.

To be quite honest, the same description could also apply to the priest, the Sister Militant, and to some degree himself. Well, he did warn people first. Usually.

Garvel sighed and gave the mental equivalent of a shrug as he looked at the shotgun in his hands. If his master's attention was requested, probably the situation was such that they would have a common enemy much more dangerous than their little dislikes. He felt an inner itch, an already deeply familiar anxiety to get on the ground and see what the problem was. Between them, they had ample firepower if they had to deal with a regular investigation turned sour. Of course, an Inquisitorial investigation turned sour would probably be quite different, a voice in the back of his head said.

[Aemoth]

Benedict closes his eyes at the request for a further blessing upon the Psyker. He was not accustom to blessing people against anything related to Daemon’s, instead he would have gladly set the man ablaze so that his burning corpse would prove an example to the rest of a group to avoid falling into heretical ways.

For several minutes his mind wandered, searching litanies of long ago use, writings he had done in his youth as a simple clergyman, he even had a brief moment where he remembered the last time he tried to recite this blessing and upon failing to remember it he instead killed the man. The man was a simple civilian in a nameless hive. He had found a book on one of the lowest levels. The book, which was later destroyed, had been so tainted with evil that by simply picking it up and bringing it home the man was corrupted and began to mutate. It was simply by the Emperor’s grace that Benedict had been walking through that hive preaching and he managed to see the man duck into his room with thick black ooze trailing behind him. By the time he followed the trail and entered the room the man was mutated beyond any possible hope for help. The man’s waist down was now liquefied and formed into a tail composed of the black ooze that seeped from a hole in his chest and now covered the floor.

The man’s wife ran up to the Redemptionist as he entered the room and pleaded with him to bless away to evil inside her husband. Benedict spent a few seconds trying to remember the blessing before he took action against the evil. At the time his gear was a lot simpler than it was now, he did not have such an elegant engraved flamer with as many spare tanks of fuel, nor did he have the well crafted fire-grenades that now hung from the straps of his flamer’s fuel tank. No, at the time he was limited to a wooden torch dipped in tar to illuminate his path, a small lighter, and several spare torches, for he had just recently joined the Redemptionists and he had to prove his faith before he was to be awarded any further equipment.

He moved swiftly against the beast that stood before him, with fluid movements only capable by those being touched by the Emperor himself he advanced on the mutant and sidestepped his quickly mutating sickle-bladed arm. He brought one of the unlit torches up in his right hand and stabbed the man in the oozing black hole in his chest. Bringing the lit torch in his right hand swiping across the mutant’s face he gained enough time to pull out the compact lighter in his pocket as the mutant recoiled from the flame. Now, with two hands blazing forth flames he was able to push the mutant back against a wall and with a solid kick Benedict impaled the man against the wall with the torch that was already stuck deep in his chest.

With a quick and simple prayer Benedict gave the man his last rights before tossing his lit torch onto the man and setting him ablaze to be purified. The man’s wife who had witnessed all of this grew hysterical and ran up to her dying husband. As if with one final act of defiance the bladed arm of the mutant swung out and severed the woman’s head from her shoulders and her body dropped and was consumed by the fire as well.

The snap of a round being chambered into a rifle brings Benedict back from his flashback. As he comes back into the conversation the Blessing pops into his head and he turns toward Ishmael.

”My friend,” the words are clearly strained as he speaks to the psyker. ”I do hope this Blessing is all we need.

Benedict removes his right hand from his flamer and takes off the recoil glove from his hand. He takes a quick second to stretch his hand before bowing his head and crossing both hands across his chest forming the Aquila symbol.

O Emperor, Immortal Throne,
You are the All Powerful Progenitor of Man.
You are the Destroyer of every Heresy that Besets the Soul.
Shield this man from the Maelstrom, prove this faithful servants worthy of your protection.
Emperor, Guardian of mankind,
Give unto him the power to stand up to the perils of The Darkness so that he may bring your light to illuminate the shadows of this universe.
May your might and glory protect him.
Let every heretical thing of the warp leave him.
Show that your strength is among us,
And bless his hands as he goes forth to do your work.
For you are the Sword and Shield
For ever and ever.
Amen.

[Krrth]

Ishmael

*After the blessing, Ishmael stands. As he speaks, a familiar light of fanaticism burns in his eyes.*

Do not worry Father. The Emperor is my Light, my Salvation. I have stood before His Throne and basked in the His Light. Fear not for my soul, for it is firm in His embrace. I will do my duty in this life and will serve the Emperor by life or death.

[Lycan 01]

Davix

Davix had spent the last minute or so debating with himself mentally about certain details of his first combat action. It had been a year or so ago, and he'd had a few since then. But they'd all been small skirmishes, and not the violent, brutal affairs that everyone equated the Imperial Guard with. His unit hadn't suffered many casualties in any of those endevours, but his mind still liked to make things seem a whole lot worse in retrospect. Or maybe they actually where that bad, and he'd just refused to acknowledge it at the time.

At any rate, his mind finally returned to reality, and he began to look around the room to see what was going on. Having already been blessed, he stopped saluting, and bent down to pick up his shotgun. As he gripped the weapon, and felt its weight in his hands, he fully imagined himself as a bearer of the Emperor's Judgement, and a spreader of his Will. A content smile spread across his face.

He then takes in his surroundings. He'd been zoned out for the blessing of Malakai's gun, but he did see Malakai standing in the corner. Once again, the look in his eyes made Davix feel a bit uneasy. He then noticed Garvel standing nearby. Something seemed to be on the Abritrator's mind. Probably the anxiety that comes before a battle. He himself had experienced that before... and gotten over it a long time ago. He then watched the blessing of Ishmael, and smiled inwardly. He was glad to see that the Psyker wasn't being completely shunned and ostricised by the team.

However, at the Psyker's admition of having been before the Golden Throne, Davix's eyes went wide. "You've been before the Throne?" he gasped, eyes wide with disbelief. It suddenly clicked in his head. Ishmael wasn't bald because it was comfortable. He wasn't clean shaven because he looked more normal and presentable that way. His lack of eyebrows wasn't just some personality quirk. There was a reason for it all, and that reason was clear now. "You've basked in His Holy Light physically? Truely?!"

[Verruckt]

If one had been standing in Phobo's mind when the psyker mentioned his visit to the throne they would hear a noise something like colossal machinery grinding to a halt or jet engines shutting down. For a few seconds her eyes go wide and her jaw slackens. The psyker had been to the throne? The schola had taught only what it believed its pupils needed to know of the Witch, they were to be feared and hated. It had never occurred to her to wonder where some of her classmates were taken when they exhibited strange powers. Likewise the Sororitas did not advise initiates of the extensive sanctioning process some psykers endured. Of course some sisters knew of it, the ones who staffed the black ships themselves most obviously, but the rank and file need never hear of it. Indeed, the only psykers most sisters would ever see would be those under their sights or transfixed on their blades.

To have set foot on Terra alone was an unspeakable honor, a pilgrimage few would ever manage, but to be in the presence of God? A privilege she would never be granted, a closeness to her Emperor that she would only find in death, and this... thing had been allowed to bask in it?

Old thought routines take over as Phobo's mind desperately fights to avoid a catastrophic dogmatic meltdown. She manages to snap her face into and icy calm and hopes no one noticed her slip. She looks away from Ishmael and mutters.

"I need a drink."

[The_Shaman]

Garvel looks at Davix, incredulously. The Guardsman might be a man from a simpler world, but surely, to believe that? He himself was no poet, but he had heard of "figures of speech". There is no way that Ishmael, psyker or not, could have actually been on Holy Terra. It was just some expression he had, like how soldiers talk about commissar's blessing or the old Arbites talk about the slick kiss.He had heard that various imperial organizations used psykers deemed sufficiently stable - even some of the higher nobles with enough connections could get a low-power one. He didn't really have much of an idea what this entailed - if the Inquisition or the Ecclesiarchy was involved, and probably at least one was, it was something that involved no small amount of testing and probing, physical and spiritual. Those that survived could only be men (and women, he guessed - though he had never seen a female psyker, at least not that he knew of) of considerable faith and will. They were probably tested for all matter of impurity and reared with the Faith, had felt the Emperor's call, some might even somehow have touched their spirits to His, for that was surely something He could do to help preserve the worthy ones... But actually send every psyker to Holy Terra for this? From every backwater, hive, or fleet in the entire Imperium? Preposterous.

Right?

Hey, come on, Davix. Haven't you heard of a metifor? The emperor is the Light of all mankind, guiding and protecting us from Holy Terra. The souls of all the faithful are in his embrace. You don't actually think all psykers are sent to Holy Terra, do you?

He wished he could sound more certain saying that, indeed he did. Yet if the revered sister could look so dumbfounded, even an Arbitrator could feel incredulous, couldn't he?

[Cheesegear]

The ten minutes pass. Obviously, with all Acolytes present and ready to go with time to spare. Standing in the rear cargo hatch of the Nox Lumina. Loweth Ross, the ship's Engine-Seer stepped from somewhere within the bowles of the medium-sized shuttle almost at the exact same time that the Inquisitor Racquel came striding into the freighter's - the Azurean Star - hangar bay with Jonas Aries in tow.
Apparently Loweth's sense of timing bordered on the praeternatural. But, he was an Adept of Mars (well, of Sollex, to be exact. But, the Brotherhood of Mars had it's mechanical tendrils spread wide throughout the Galaxy), possibly only Loweth himself knew what augmetics he had logded in his brain.

"I thought you said I could stay here!?" whined Jonas. Ten days with the Inquisitor had seemingly reduced him to the behavioural capacities of a child.
"And I changed my mind. It's much better for all involved if you planetdrop with us. That way, I know, for a fact, that you will not leave us." Jacqueline smiled. "For some reason, I get the feeling you don't want me around."

Jacqueline turned to face her acolytes as the shipmaster's face contorted with rage. His left hand balled into a fist whilst his right 'hand' (a multi-tool embedded into a bandanged - and a bloodied bandage it was - stump of a wrist) merely quivered.
The Inquisitor spoke. "I'm glad to see you've made it here in time. I'd be very disappointed in you if you weren't." her voice giving the implication that something not entirely pleasant would happen to those who would have been late. "So, Loweth, if you would please spin-up the engine-"
"The engine has been primed preceedingly, and ready to resume the function for which it has been crafted. I only await your command to proceed with my duties." Loweth interrupted with a pure human voice. Unlike most Tech-Adepts, Loweth has not replaced his voice box with something mechanical, yet. If it wasn't for his dull monotone voice, and his syntax - which, while correct, wasn't a way normal people spoke - he would seem almost normal.

Racquel frowned at being interrupted. But, Loweth - being a Tech-Adept - had no sense of etiquette, and concessions were made. Still, Racquel didn't have to like it. "Good. Everyone strap in, and we'll be on our way."
Loweth nods to his fellow Acolytes. And looks at Jonas. Loweth's eyes were immediately drawn to the shipmaster's metallic appendage. "Had I been made previously aware that you were endevouring to join the Enlightened; I would have considered it of import to enable my services for your...Introduction." the Tech-Adept drones.

Jonas struck a furtive look at the Inquisitor, whose back was turned, and was already walking up the ramp into the ship. "It wasn't something I planned on doing." Jonas says and he walks behind Racquel, passing the Acolytes and clutching his stump. He made some disgusting sound with the back of his throat. "'Sides, it doesn't work right." he indicated this by making the tool twitch.
"If that is the case, I will assume the duty of enabling it to achieve your desired outcome, in the promise-"
Inqusitor Racquel spun on her heel. "No, you wont." she glanced at her other acolytes. "Some of you think I have been lenient on Captain Aries." she looks at Garvel. "His amputation is a punishment-"
"More like Pound of Flesh!" Jonas complained. His chin jutting out, and his jaw set in a way that seemed like he was expecting a punch in the face.
"His amputation is a punishement." the Inquisitor repeated. "I understand that on some worlds, the punishment for thieves, is removal of their hands."
"I'm not a thief!" Jonas rebutted.
"No?" she raised an eyebrow. "You're a liar and a cheat. You steal trust. You traffick with Obscura and other opiates. Obscura steals lives Mister Aries. You should thank the Emperor that all I've done is removed your hand."

Jonas, stubborn as ever. "You know, that once we get to a proper world, I can trade this in for some real augmetics." he shook his stump at the woman.
"You do that. We'll see how that works out for you..." she trailed off as she turned and walked into the ship.
The shipmaster turned to the Acolytes, opened his mouth. Seemed to think for a moment, and sighed. Whatever he was going to say was probably not worth saying.

Loweth just stood by the cargo door. And waited on the other Acolytes.

[Verruckt]

The interruption of the Inquisitor, Tech Priest and the Shipmaster brought to mind the old Schola expression "Saved by the bell". Phobo manages to squeeze the implications of the last few minutes into a corner of her mind for later fretting. She makes her way to Loweth and hands over her rifle butt first.

"I would be honored if you would minister to this weapon's spirit for a moment. I care for it as you have shown me, but I fear the repeated assembly cycles during our voyage may have disquieted it."

She does not understand the Cult of the Mechanicus any better than she understands Catachan poetry, but she can empathise deeply with Ross' love for a good weapon. Well, not quite Ross' level of love, but there is a certain kinship there nonetheless. She takes a seat inside and awaits departure.

[Lycan 01]

Davix

A normal man would have been left with a spinning mind after everything that had happened over the last few minutes. But Davix's soldier instincts took over the moment Inquisitor Racquel had issued her orders. The facts behind Ishmael's past could be clarified at a later time...

Davix stepped up behind Phobo, and decided to have his weapon blessed after hers. Once his weapon was blessed, he would head into the ship and strap in for the drop.

[Cheesegear]

With Jonas and the Inquisitor out of earshot. Loweth asks "Is it just me, or does the man Jonas Aries possess a lower Intelligence Quotient than the statistical average male of his age?" and, with a gesture that was unmistakably a wink. "Were you previously aware that 'Azurean' isn't even a word?"

He grins as he takes the gun from Phobo. "Sister Phoebosa. It would be my honour to care for your gun-spirit. However, may I remind you once more, that if you only joined me in Enlightenment, you would not need me to do this?"

Loweth's eyes glaze over as he receives the lasgun. Sollexian indoctrination to las-weaponry was like that. With what is unmistakably a guardsman's curse, and then a series of screeches and whines (made even more unpleasant by the fact that Loweth was using his voice to make the noise. Rather than a mechanical voicebox).

"Sister Phoebosa," Loweth starts as he returns the weapon "Your gun-spirt wishes myself to convey to you that your maintenance of It's well-being has been...Adequate. It acknoledges that you are not Enlightened, and acknowledges that you do the best that you are able. But, It wishes that you allow It to speak more often."

Loweth takes Davix's weapon and gently caresses the casing. His eyes widened, as if in shock, as he cradled the weapon in his hands. The Tech-Priest looked to Davix, his eyes imperceptibly narrowed. "I expected better from you, Trooper Thrope." Loweth passed the las weapon back to the Guardsman."I have blessed it...But..." a sound came from Loweth that sounded an awful lot like a tsk, tsk, tsk. "Do not mind."

"If my services are not required. I must retire to the cockpit to guide us." he pats the inside of the shuttle's hull. "I'm aware..." he whispers. "Well, that is not a pleasant thing to convey at all. I shall proceed to do no such thing..." Loweth turns again to see the Acolytes standing near him. He coughs, slightly (apparently he still had lungs too) as he keys in a sequence that closes the cargo bay door to Nox Lumina.

[Krrth]

Ishmael

Ishmael had opened his mouth to speak when the Inquisitor walked in. Quickly closing it, he waited until she was done before bowing and boarding the vessel. Conversation could wait until later. Although...turning to the coughing tech-priest, Ishmael spoke.

Are you well? One of my gifts is healing.

[SuperMuldoon]

Malakai

Caring little to stand and hear idle chit chat, as soon as the Inquisitor is finished talking, Malakai heads up the ramp into the ship. Carefully stowing his rifle and gear, he finds a seat and straps himself in. He closes his eyes for a moment to focus himself and prepare his mind and body for the stresses of planet drop. He needed to be ready for anything when they landed - Malakai needed to always be ready.

[Lycan 01]

Davix

Davix frowned, slightly concerned by the Tech-Priest's remarks. Had he really treated his weapon that badly? Sure, it was the victim or a little wear and tear, but it came with the territory of being a Guardsman's weapon. If anything, it was proof that the Machine Spirit had served vailiantly alongside him without fail. But he was still troubled. He decided that whenever he got the chance, he'd have to have a talk with Loweth about how best to care for his shotgun.

Trooper Thrope headed into the ship and found himself a seat. After stowing his gear, he straps in and prepares for the drop. He'd experienced a few drops before, and he was by no means used to them. But they were part of the job, and complaining was not an option. As he sat back and tried to prepare himself for what was to come, he began to think back to the previous drops he'd experienced. How had that prayer the Sargeant had said gone, again?

[The_Shaman]

(If possible, Garvel would have tried to get a blessing for his shotgun as well - he might not be a Gunmetalican, but like many hivers he has a very serious appreciation for a firearm, and thus of having it kept in proper condition)

The tech-priest was indeed a curious one, particularly for the standards of his kind.

That being done, Garvel sat down in the shuttle and strapped himself in. He thought of the captain's bloodied bandage. Apparently, his Master was hardly lenient, but she exacted her vengeance in... her own ways. Strange, though - he thought the blood on the bandages was fairly fresh. Maybe the captain had done something to cross the line?

He sighed inwardly. With her authority, couldn't she just have the man arrested and commandeer the ship? It was just so ... messy... that way. He put that aside - he had not made many planet drops before, but he already knew the sensation could be unpleasant.

[Verruckt]

Phobo briefly toys with the idea of "enlightenment", remembers that Loweth is utterly ratfrecking insane, sighs and takes her seat in the Nox. She straps in and stuffs her pack beneath the seat. She looks at her rifle lovingly, wooden stock and foregrip made from Brontian Ironoak, roughly machined but well polished, the tiny Fleur De Lis she'd carved where the stock met the pistol grip, all details that made it hers.

She pats the receiver with a gauntleted hand and coos softly "You'll speak again soon enough." before stowing it as well.

[Aemoth]

Benedict remains fairly silent as he watches the discussion between the Inquisitor and her new "puppet". He knew there was no need to speak during their exchange and there was no need to add a comment after they were out of ear shot. After all, it was not in his duty to deal with their petty squabbles, his concern was their eternal souls.

As he found a seat on the lander and strapped in he replaced the glove over his hand and locked it onto his flamer once more. His eyes fell to the weapon that now rested in his lap. Heavily engraved with the various symbols and prayers of his order with one large gold flaked rising sun above the forward grip his flamer was a physical record of his time as a Redemptionist.

[The_Shaman]

Garvel thought of something, then patted a pocket in his uniform. Yep, still there. He took up a packet of lho-sticks and extended it to Phobo. You were kinda pale for a moment there, Revered Sister. Care for a smoke?

He didn't know the why all that much, but he could guess Ishmael's little speech had shaken her quite a bit. He sympathized a bit - besides, seeing that look on her normally confident face was well worth a lho stick.

[Verruckt]

Phobo looks up and her face brightens briefly. She and the arbite hadn't had much time to talk, mostly simply due to having different self imposed duties around the ship, but she could appreciate his unwavering level of devotion and liked the man well enough. She reaches across the aisle and plucks a stick from the proffered pack. Setting it in the corner of her mouth she searches around her pockets and finds a hugely engraved fliptop lighter. The hunk of metal can be seen to have a poorly engraved icon of Saint Lachryma on its silver plated surface. She flips it open and a somewhat larger than need be flame pops to life. She brings it towards the tube, then stops.

"Much thanks Garvel, though I think I'll light up once we break atmo, Ross tends to start acting like a girl when people smoke in vacuum. Had to argue with him for a week and trade him two copies of Lasgunner I don't think I ever want to see again just for the votive candles in my quarters."

She carefully places both Iho and lighter in a hip pocket and continues. "And please, just Phobo. I don't mess with that titles dreck, the ones that named me at the schola were bad enough. The Sisters, blessed be they all, just added to the problem."

She smiles and leans her head back, waiting for them to depart.

[The_Shaman]

Garvel shrugged, fingered the lighter in his own pocket - and decided against it. Tech-priests were a weird bunch, but their word was law (not technically, int most cases, but close enough) around their machines, and he respected their work well enough. He could go for a smoke though - he wasn't sure if it showed, but he was a bit nervous. He had not travelled to another planet during his work in the Adeptus Arbites, and he had a feeling that they were going to land on a planet quite different from his home.

He thought about the sister again. Truth be told, he didn't know what to make of her. Most of the time she was good company and quite approachable, but he could not help but feel some awe - and, at times, nervousness - when around her. He had heard stories about the Adepta Sororitas' zeal and ruthlessness by one of his instructors, Investigator Harumley. The man had come from another world, where a group of Battle Sisters (and, most likely, an inquisitor) was called to assist after an operation uncovered a large heretic cult. The old intelligencer talked with something close to reverence - and, he had always thought, some fear. He'd have to wait and see, he guessed. What did she mean about those Lasgunner issues, anyway?

Okay then. Truth be told I'm not that good with those appellations anyway. By the way, he added with a curious tone, What did he do to those Lasgunner issues anyway? I know they can be quite fond of weapons, but I doubt he cut up the pages or did something that bad.

Actually, if it had been someone else and another kind of magazine, he would have an idea...

[Aemoth]

Benedict snickers as Garvel asks about the magazines. He had caught what the Battle Sister was hinting at the first time she had said it, although he hoped it was just a joke on her part.

Without much more thought given to the discussion he returned to softly murmuring a prayer upon his flamer. He knew that Ross could have spoken with the machine spirit, but in his mind a blessing from the Emperor was superior to one from a man of Mars.

[Lycan 01]

Davix

Trooper Thrope noticed Garvel's confusion, and the priest's snickering. He couldn't help but wonder about the Tech-Priest and the magazines, too. He was a fan of Lasgunner, but only for the articles, specifically the stories of Imperial Guard heroism and triumph. He didn't get to read it that often, either, since it was somewhat difficult to go out and purchase any sort of literature during the constant Warp Travel associated with the Imperial Guard. Truth be told, he didn't even know what sort of material could be found on the other pages... He usually just checked the table of contents, opened directly to the article he wanted to read, and then gave the magazine back when he was done. It was all he had time for, really, especially since he was usually only being lent the magazine by a comrade for an hour or so. And then of course, there was the whole Imperial Guard mind-set of never wasting time, and casually flipping through a magazine rather than speed-reading the articles would be considered by some as wasting time.

Davix suddenly arched an eyebrow. Even if the magazine did have questionable content, what in the Emperor's Name would a Tech-Priest want it for? Their whole belief system centered around seperating themselves from their humanity and their basic human desires. So it seemed to him that the only logical explaination was that the Tech-Priest's quarters were not the cleanest, which wasn't a shock considering his occupation, and various types of oil, fuel, and engine grease had ruined Phobo's magazines. Indeed, that sounded like the most plausible and least mind-scarring conclussion...

[Verruckt]

Phobo rolls her head to aim an almond eye at Garvel, the other hiding under her shock of white hair. She looks somewhat amused and sighs.

"Put it out of your mind my friend. Pray he simply has a messy job and do not think long on the alternative. I've only recently managed to block out the possible implications with the whole of Abferquan's Commentaries on The Spheres of Longing. Which mind you I can make neither heads nor tails of, but is still more pleasant than any contemplation of Mr. Ross'... Ah, there it is again, dammit!"

She flops her head back and seems to be muttering under her breath as she does often. Those around her can catch snatches of what might be lines from the aforementioned book as she resolutely represses unwanted mental imagery.

[Krrth]

Ishmael


*mutters to self*

I never thought I'd find a use for the mental suppression training they gave me....

[The_Shaman]

Garvel

Despite his surroundings, Garvel laughed. He didn't want to believe his initial theory, but Phobo's nonanswer pretty much confirmed it. By Terra's shadow, he thought, can this group of ours get any weirder? Maybe Davix will turn out to be an organ player, or Ishmael has a standup comedian act.

He had quite a few jokes come to mind about that, but he could appreciate now was not the time nor place for them. Maybe around a table with a bottle of good* amasec...

*: As defined: mostly liquid and of a chemical composition that does not induce blindness, explosion or death in quantity of less than half an Imperial litre.

[Cheesegear]

Loweth Ross walks away from the Inquisitor and the other acolytes as they buckle themselves down in the cargo hold. The tap, tap, tap echoing from Loweth's metallic boots as he moved throughout the ship. Within a few mintues, after the acolytes had been speaking, the Vox in the hold sparked to life. Loweth, with praeternatural timing, addressed the ship.

"Beginning flight." said Loweth, as the sound of the Nox Lumina decoupling from the Azurean Star can be heard beneath the floor of the ship. "Atomosphere deterioriating. Please ensure all loose items and equipment are secure." continues Loweth as somewhere from within the ship, the forward thrusters quickly burn to life. Loweth had not been wrong. He had primed the engine, in a technique he called 'keeping it warm'. Within moments, the passengers on the the ship begin to become weightless. However, the harnesses the acolytes had strapped themselves into, holding them down. With all gear stowed under the seats, nothing untoward happens. Jacqueline's Rosette begins to rise, the necklace floating in the non-gravity.

Outside the ship is silent. Only the slow burning of the thrusters can be heard in the silence. Aside from the initial forward jolt, there is no inertia as the ship moves forward. Space is like that. A minute or two later, of silence and tense nerves. Loweth voxes again, static hitting his voice. "Breaking atmosphere. Prepare for descent." in what can only be described as a pop. The outside of the ship suddenly bursts a continuous roar of noise. As the Nox Lumina hits the friction of atomosphere. The ride immediately becomes a more bumpy, as the passengers are slammed into their seats as the laws of gravity and inertia reassert themselves.

Jacqueline's mouth is set in a firm line. Saying nothing. Beside her, Jonas' is almost hyperventilating and sweating. Thanks to his status, Jonas was probably more used to luxary shuttles that made reenterring atmosphere a mere 'bump' on the trip.

Over the Vox, Loweth can be heard speaking to a Tower Control servitor, sending numbers and screeches back and forth that mean nothing to those who don't understand the complicated language of the Machine. It does on like this for quite some time. The turbulance fades as Loweth pilots the ship safely into the atmosphere. The landing thrusters on 'full burn' as Loweth would say.

The vox blares as Loweth's voice changes from a series of calm numbers to a single loud. "Incoming."
Inquisitor Racquel's head snaps up to the vox set in the wall. "What!?" she yells.
Loweth barks out. "Ascendo, ascendo, devexus, devexus, laevus, dextrorsum, laevus, dextrorsum. Beta. Alpha. Incepto!" all of a sudden the ship banks hard to the left, tossing about the passengers.
"Brace for impending collision!" Loweth's voice. "Machina preserve us!"

Something hits the side of the Nox Lumina, resounding with a huge explosive noise. The acolytes especially thankful for the harnesses they were strapped into. "Someone's going to burn for this..." Jacqueline says as she lets off a string of profanities.
Apparently, Loweth was still barking out a string of orders. Relaying whatever information he could to the Tower Control servitor, as well as letting off a steam of platitudes directed at something called a 'Deus Ex Machina' and, apparently issuing orders to the Nox Lumina as well. As if it was a person.

Loweth begins listing altitudes, descending. Fast.
"Emperor..." Jacqueline starts, making the sign of the Aquilla with her hands. But, she's cut short as the ship slams into the surface of Ericles Six.

[Verruckt]

Phobo is gritting her teeth all throughout the journey, and clenches her jaw as tight as possible when things turn for the worst. Not due to fear, the fear was in the way she clasped charms around her neck even as she locked her elbows around the hard padding of the drop harness.

The closed lips were because of her unarmed combat instructor at the Convent. Sister Echa began her lifelong vow of silence when she bit her own tongue off mid-scream when heretic AA rounds sent her dropship screaming into the ground on her last active duty mission. Her injuries had been some of the least severe sustained in the crash.

Thus, when all instincts say to cry or pray, Phobo is silent, solemnly bracing for impact.

[roll0]

The impact shoots up her spine, knocking her mind off kilter. Her jaw loosens and a groan escapes.

[Krrth]

Ishmael


Ishmael had really hadn't been paying attention. Lost in his own thoughts, he daydreamed until the shuttle was hit.

That brought him back to reality.

Saint Gorth preserve us!

On the way down, Ishmael concentrates. While he cannot help the others (yet), once on the ground he can.



Psi Roll to activate lucky [roll0]
stamina roll (goal 32) [roll1].

Reroll if first fails [roll2]

[The_Shaman]

Garvel

Try as he might, Garvel can't shake the anxiety he feels during the shuttle trip. It doesn't look so bad at first, though, and he almost welcomes the bumps. On some level, he is amused by Jonas' discomfort. On the other hand, he wonders why this man is so distraught - he expects that it is because of the proximity of his Master and going into danger, more than the discomfort of flying in a regular shuttle.

He feels the hit heavily, and his body almost jumps despite the harness. Throne... he gasps, his chin just having hit the seat in front. He tries to remember if his instructors said anything about what to do in such cases. Apparently not, he'd have to improvise.

He braces himself for hitting ground, but the shock still throws him against the harness. Not... an auspicious beginning, he mutters, as he feels his whole body aching, Saints be with us.

[Lycan 01]

Davix

Davix hadn't been paying much attention at first. He'd been trying to remember that prayer his Sargeant had said before each mission. It was slowly coming back to him, and he had hoped to say it before they'd reached the surface, since there was no telling what trouble awaited them there.

This new change of events, however, broke his concentration. The sudden change in the situation forced his Guardsman instincts into the front of his mind. His body positioned itself for impact, his hands gripped his restrains, and through a clenched jaw he began to mutter a common Guardsman prayer for hot drops.

"Emperor on Terra
Light upon the Throne
Let not our mission
Be obstructed
Protect this craft
And uphold its ocupants
That we may carry out
Your Will unhindered
Guide our path
Divert obstruction
And preserve our
Bodies and Souls
And if we are to die
Let it not be in vain
But for a purpose
Within your Holy Will
AMEN!!"

The world turned upside down.

[Aemoth]

This was not Benedict's first rodeo into atmosphere, but the small ships always caused his stomach to churn as they lurched about on re-entry. His freehand grew white knuckled as he held a death grip on his restraints throughout the upper atmosphere. The cleric is so absorbed in his own situation he fails to even notice Jonas or anyone else's reactions.

As the Nox Lumina left the atmosphere and leveled out he breaths a short sigh of relief only to hear the cry of "Incoming" screech over the vox. His mind snaps back into reality and he shifts himself as best he can within the restraints to brace for an impact. No words or prayers come to his lips as the ship shifts into evasive maneuvers, however his eyes twitch back and forth as if he is reading a large scroll set far too close to him. As the reported altitudes drop swiftly Benedict mumbles a hastily said phrase to end his mental prayer, "Lux Lumi-". His words are cut short as the ship crashes into the surface.

[Lycan 01]

Davix

Trooper Thrope opened his eyes. He was alive. He was sore all over, but that would soon pass. His movements slow and methodical, almost robotic, he unbuckled his restraints and slowly staggered to his feet. A quick glance was all he gave to the rest of the occupants. They were all moving or making noise - as far as he could tell, no apparent fatalities. His mind diverted itself back to the situation at hand. Guardsmen were trained for situations like this; if a drop went bad, your priority was following orders and carrying out the mission, not helping those who didn't need or couldn't be helped.

Davix managed to find his backpack and weapon. He examined the shotgun, and then slung it over his right shoulder. He checked inside of his backpack, removed something, and placed it in one of the small pouches on the belt around his waist normally reserved for ammo and power cells. He then closed the backpack up and slung it over his other shoulder. His face stern, his jaw set, and a look of determination in his eyes, he stood at attention and called out: "Orders, Ma'am?"

[Krrth]

Ishmael

*Groaning while unfastening the restraints*

Is anyone hurt severely? Call out if you need help, or if you see someone that needs help.

[SuperMuldoon]

Malakai

Malakai was no stranger to drops. Having been surgically inserted behind enemy lines into a hazardous position often went the same way: bad. Ignoring the prayers and shouts of his comrades, Malakai remained silent and kept his wits about him as they plummeted through the atmosphere - then the ship crashed. Everything went spinning, but luckily years of training his body had allowed him to relax his body and allow the harness to abosrb most of the impact, diffusing it without suffering any severe injury.

Shaking his head to clear his vision and thoughts, Malakai quickly unfastens the harness and gathers his gear. Rifle in hand, he is alert, moving immediately into a position to defend the ship in case anybody - or anything hostile decides to investigate the downed ship. He keeps an eye on Inquisitor Racquel, and waits for her orders.

[Aemoth]

Ringing, constant ringing, that drowns out everything as the acolytes scramble from their restraints and try to regain their bearings. Benedict shakes his head to clear his ears from the quick change in pressure, but it does little to help. At least now he is able to hear the others beneath the ringing noise.

Using one hand he fumbles with the restraints for a brief moment before releasing himself from the self-induced coffin. As he stands and stretches his ears finally pop and the droning sound finally leaves him. "It appears the God Emperor has better things for us to do than to die here in this ship. Swiftly, to your feet everyone. What has brought us down will most assuredly want to make sure we are truly dead."

While speaking he moves about the small space offering a hand to help everyone up that is not already standing. Should they take the offer he brushes their shoulder off and gives a quick comforting smile as best as he can before moving on to someone else.

[Verruckt]

There's a whine, just at the edge of hearing. Phobo can't get rid of it, everything seems just out of focus for a moment. She shakes her head, trying to clear her vision and get rid of the sound, and immediately regrets it. She grunts and the whine momentarily worsens.

The world finally sits still and she fumbles with her harness. She manages to get free and slumps a bit in her seat. She accepts Benedict's offered hand gladly and hauls herself upright with his help. The damn whining persists as she gingerly reaches up to her collarbones and massages them lightly, not relishing the thought of the bruises undoubtedly forming their already. As she reaches towards the back of her head, still pulsing with pain, she realizes she's lost a few seconds. She can put together the crash because she knows they were going down, and she can tell that they've stopped falling, but she can't remember the crash itself.

She turns to collect her gear and loses her train of thought for a second. Gripping her head she looks around.

"Pater, I think I may have a concussion... could, er. Damn! I'll do it." She manages to collect her gear and weapons, deciding not to try and venture outside the shuttle until she can get her thoughts more solidified.

[Aemoth]

"Wooh, careful there." Benedict reaches out to help steady Phobo. "Don't try to do too much right now, take a quick moment to rest." Benedict moves on to help the others but still keeps an eye on the Sister as she collects her gear.

Benedict knew concussions all too well. The brief moments of nothing, the loss of memory of events prior too the incident, the numbing pain that pulsed through the body and caused the stomach to churn and gurgle, and even the loopy feeling that will quickly overtake the pain for the next half hour and then leave the injured person to come to a screeching halt as the pain returns in full force. He had experienced them on one occasions, but the majority of his experience was helping to aid people suffering from their effects. At the moment Phobo looked decent and her extreme training by the sisterhood was holding her up, but when he got a free moment he intended to make sure it wasn't too severe that she would have future problems.

[Verruckt]

Phobo puts her head against the wall for a moment after she gets her belongings arranged about her person, trying to collect her thoughts. She gives the priest a smile when he encourages her to take it easy for a moment.

"My thanks Pater. Let me do something useful and check on Mr. Ross. Least I can do seeing as we may owe him our lives."

[Cheesegear]

Jacqueline groans in her harness. Pulling herself out of her chair, she elicits a passing look at Jonas Aries. The man is unconscious. Jacqueline takes the man's hand, concentrates for a moment. Jonas' chest is rising and falling in a steady cadence. Jacqueline nods. "He's unconscious. Pulse is good. He looks like he's breathing." she glances down at his multi-tool hand. The metallic appendage spasmodically moving. "His brain appears to work. Better than it did while he was conscious...He didn't look to good on the way down. It could be shock...Or, a much worse concussion." the Inquisitor frowns.

The woman turns to Phobo, her eyes widening. "Oh, please no..." she rushes to the vox on the wall, slams her finger on the 'Talk' button. "Ross...Ross! Report!" Jacqueline yells into the vox. No response. Static makes it's way back through the vox. Jacqueline turns and stares at her acolytes. "Come on!"

Jacqueline bounds up the walkway from the cargo hold. Taking the stairs two at a time. "No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no...Please, Emperor...No, no, no..." she bounds through the walkways and corridors of the Nox Lumina, repeating her string of denials as she makes her way to the cockpit.

As she gets there, with acolytes in tow. The cockpit is ruined. Set into the floor is a hole about two arm-thicknesses wide. Caked in dirt thanks to crashing into the ground, and what appears to be raw, unprocessed lho. The cockpit, aptly, looks like a bomb went off. The entire cockpit is caked in black char. The three spare seats still sporting minor flames and spitting smoke throughout the cabin. The windows are shattered, but, thankfully have not broken about the room. Atmospheric-strength plexiglass was known to fend off bolter rounds, a little crash landing would put dents in it, but, shatter it? Doubtful. The cockpit doors blown wide open to reveal a cloud of dirt beginning to settle, and the edges of the two-storey high divot that the guncutter had made when it 'landed'. The smell of unprocessed lho and smoke assails the cabin...Along with the smell of burned flesh.

Ragged breathing could be heard just above Jacquline's now-quiet strings of Nos. Loweth Ross, the Engine-Seer was breathing, his eyes staring at nothing in particular. The control panel of the ship had crumpled in and was pinning Loweth in place. His entire left side was burned and was melted to the leather on his chair. Jacqueline covered her mouth with her hand as "Oh Emperor..." escaped her lips.

Abruptly, Loweth turns. "Do not cry." his breath heavy. "Mistress. I. Continue to. Function..." Jacqueline breathes again.
"Don't talk." she whispers. Touching Loweth's face gently. She turns the acolytes. "You!" she points. "Search Jonas Aries for stimms and bring them back here! See if you can find some rotgut in cargo-" she spins. "You! Find out where the frak we are!"

Jacqueline proceeds to duck under the control panel. "Right..." he voice slightly echoes "I can't see any bleeding. Loweth is only pinned down." she comes back from under the board with a medical kit. "He's going to live, understand..." her eyes about to tear over.
Loweth's eyes, glazed. "It puts the oil on it's chassis or it gets the hose again..."

[The_Shaman]

Garvel

Well, Garvel thought at first, everyone is more or less ok. The Battle Sister did look quite shaken, but she appeared to be holding her own. Still, they might have to cover for her a bit if a firefight started - which, Emperor willing, would not be too soon. They needed to get their bearings. He takes off the harness and feels his shoulder. Nothing too bad, he probably wouldn't even have a welt. He picked his rucksack and flung it across his back, following the inquisitor as she ran to the cockpit.

So much for ok, he thought as he looked around stunned. He had seen firefights and death often enough, but this level of devastation was new to him. His mind snapped back to attention when his master barked her commands. He made a step back, then remembered that he didn't need to go down to the captain to find stimm... and it looked like she needed it as soon as possible. He swung the rucksack in his hands, rummaging for a second. Even the rawest troopers sent to the streets had to be prepared for emergencies.

Certainly, Master. Please use these for now, he said dutifully, handing the Inquisitor an injector and three doses, before turning back towards the passenger hold (barring any further commands, of course). He wasn't very clear on the intricacies of medicae, but 3 doses should be enough at first... and he was looking forward to searching Aries. Professional curiosity was a hard habit to shake.

[Krrth]

Ishmael

Upon hearing the Inquisitor's cry, Ishmael moves to the front an quickly as he can.

Mistress! Who needs my help in healing?

*glancing over at the stimm packs, then back at the Tech-Priest*

May I attempt to save him?

[SuperMuldoon]

Malakai

Malakai's face didn't show it, but he was shocked. Here was his new Mistress, the cold hearted Inquisitor who had removed the hand of Aries for some slight against her, now crouching over the engineseer on the verge of losing it. Malakai did not like the situation. Their ship was ruined, some of the acolytes were injured, and their pilot was probably dying.


"You! Find out where the frak we are!"

"Yes, Mistress." Malakai says, for he could do nothing but obey. He quickly turns and heads to an intact exit hatch on the ship. Carefully opening it and being as stealthy as possible, he surveys the area before stepping out, as to not get his head blown off or taken by surprise once he exits the ship. Barring anything in the immediate vicinity, Malakai tries to remain as inconspicuous as possible, hiding in the debris, and surveys the area around the downed ship, using his rifle scope when neccessary.

[Verruckt]

Phobo hurries after her Inquisitor and stops dead when she reaches the cockpit. She'd seen men mangled in worse states that Ross, but to see her master so distraught unnerves her. And Ross... dammit, despite his insanity she still had an affection for the mad cogboy, he was a good friend.

When Raquel rounds on them the sister is at least pleased to see that she remains in command. Phobo knows that she can do something to help.

"I'm on the booze."

That's the thing about being a drinker who's gone cold, you know exactly where all the alcohol is, and it taunts you. She makes her way down into the hold and finds the relevant crate in a corner and hauls the top off, grabbing two bottles. Her brain would really like a drink, and she needs to distract it. Happily she remembers the lho stick in her pocket and lights up. A drag helps, but in the last few minutes she's dealt with the heresies of psykers, the perversions of techpriests and the unfriendly nature of anti-aircraft fire.

"Warp take it all."

She unstoppers one of the bottles and takes a long swig, half of an orgasm backfires in the middle of her head and for a moment the whining and throbbing from the crash subside. She grabs two more bottles and heads back towards the cockpit.

[Lycan 01]

Davix

Trooper Davix Thrope, a soldier who'd seen men take bolt rounds to the gut and had personally stabbed one of his closest friends in the eye socket, was affected by what he saw. He'd followed right at the Inquisitors heels, and had seen the whole ordeal of her discovery of Loweth. To see the the resolve of the Inquisitor, his commanding officer, break down like that meant that this was more than a comrade being wounded to her. This was somebody she had been through it all with. Somebody who'd never turned their back on her, and always came through for her. Somebody she truely cared about. To see an Inquisitor, somebody who was an unyielding and uncaring entity devoted to truth and punishment, crying over the broken body of a friend... It made him feel something. Sorrow? Pain? Fear? No...

His was disturbed. He was disturbed to watch such an moment, to see his Inquisitor's resolve break and her true feelings expose themselves. It just felt... wrong. Like he shouldn't be watching such an... intimate moment. Diverting his gaze, he spoke indirectly to Inquisitor Racquel. "He will be just fine, Ma'am. The Emperor protects his own... he consoles her, hoping that his words will help restore her resolve. He then turns towards the exit, and checks his shotgun. "I'm no use here, though, so I'll go help scout around... Unless you have other uses for me, Ma'am."

If she objects, he'll stay and do whatever she needs him to do. If he is allowed to go scout, he will slink out of the ship, and slowly check the area around the crash-site, staying crouched low to the ground and keeping his gun raised for action. He'll stay far from Malakai, so as not to present both of them as a target.



Awareness (32): [roll0]

[Krrth]

Ishmael

Ishmael kneels down and reaches under his robes. When his hand emerges it is holding a medallion of Saint Rybel Gorth. Trying to concentrate his mind, Ishmael beings to chant softly. Only a few words can be heard.

I must not fear.
Fear is the mind-killer.
Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.
I will face my fear.
I will permit it to pass over me and through me.
And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path.
Where the fear has gone there will be nothing.
Only I will remain.

Hopefully calming his mind, Ishmael attempts to tend to the injured tech-priest.


Invocation test (+10 w/Psyfocus) [roll0] (goal 54)

Healer power, threshold 7 [roll1] +4 (WP) +(4 Invocation)= 14
damage healed (hopefully) [roll2]

[Aemoth]

Benedict was shocked at how quickly everyone sprang into action to save the tech-priest. Within a few seconds the rest of the acolytes had left him standing as they shot off to do their respected tasks.

The priest turns and heads back toward Jonas to scavenge the stimms he may have on him in case they would be needed for Loweth as well. As he makes his way back down a small smile cracks across his face. "I couldn't ask for a more efficient group. Praise the Throne."

[Verruckt]

Phobo arrives back at the cockpit. She's already regretting mixing bad alcohol and concussion, and the tableau presented by her appearance (an armored and beweaponed sister of battle coming down a corridor with two bottles of firewater in each hand, a lho stick trailing smoke between her lips and a slightly dazed expression on her face) would doubtlessly meet with something less than approval her Sister Superiors.

Given said irritation she's more or less at her wits end when she gets to the damaged front end in time to see the psyker practicing warpcraft on a critically injured friend of hers.

"Master, please tell me that you sanctioned this, or I will be more than happy to remove it from the cockpit, if not from its sorry existence."

[Krrth]

Ishmael


*Looking up from his work, Ishmael speaks calmly.*

I'm Sanctioned, Sister.

*indicates the brand on his hand*

That means the High Lords of Terra are satisfied with my intentions, as is the Emperor himself.

*shaking his head*

My talents lie towards something called Biomancy. Control of the body, including the healing of wounds and repairing of injury.

Now, if you don't want me healing you that's your choice. Until it endangers the mission. Then it's our Mistresses choice.

[Verruckt]

Phobo looks at the brand, then at the man bearing it, then at her Inquisitor.

"Will someone with more wisdom, patience and authority than I please explain what the freck has been happening for the past few minutes before I go insane?"

She slumps a little, and has the presence of mind to set down the bottles.

[The_Shaman]

Garvel

In the passenger hold, Garvel looks at the prostrate figure of the captain. Well now, esteemed captain, you've been selected to perform a great service to the most honorable Inquisition, the Cult of the Omnissiah, and the benevolent Adepti. Your pockets, please, he mutters with a smile, before going on one knee to turn the man over and check if he's still unconscious. If he is, he will look him and his surroundings over carefully, eventually starting to feel up any bags, pockets, and the like on the man. His fingers go over the captain quickly, courtesy of experience. This work, if nothing else, was definitely not boring, he thought as he hummed the familiar refrain of an old marching song.

A part of his mind reminded him that they had just been shot down and were most likely in a hostile zone. It was technically correct, he noted, but first thing came first. His Mistress seemed quite attached to the tech-priest, and the guardsman and the assassin should be fairly experienced at what they were doing.

[Aemoth]

Benedict re-enters the passenger hold as Garvel begins to search the Captain. "It would seem we both came to the same conclusions. Grab everything you think is needed, I doubt Raquel will care over his complaints." Kneeling next to Garvel he too begins to pat down the pockets of the unconscious Captain.

[Cheesegear]

Jacqueline nods in silence, as Ishmael puts his hands on Loweth. The woman's hand gripping her ornate Eldar sword in a white-knuckled grip. The effect on Loweth is immediate. Ordinarily, the tech-priest would have spent months in the burn ward of a Medicae Imperialis facility. However, Loweth underwent months of healing in all but a few seconds.

A process, normally of thousands of tiny particles of dead flesh decaying and falling off over a period of weeks, was done in seconds. Actual clumps of charred, blackened flesh and skin fell away from the tech-priest. As new flesh wrought itself in place. Months of pain and agony, was condensed into seconds. Loweth screamed his single-tone scream, that echoed throughout the ship into the mess hall where Phobo was gathering liquor.

The kind of bone-numbing scream echoed. The kind of scream that tells any and everyone near to Run. Run as fast as you can. The Inquisitor shed a few tears as she could only imagine what kind of special Hell Loweth was enduring. Most people who joined the Inquisition knew what pain was. Some even gave themselves pain in some sort of bizarre ritual that only made sense to them. But, that agony, the kind of pain that breaks the mind. Loweth had been scorched. And lived. His pain was reserved for thankfully few in the Imperium.

In seconds, thankfully, the scream ended. The body could only heal itself so much. Loweth had expended months worth of energy in a few seconds. New, pink scar tissue covered his arms, and most of the left side of his chest. His robes having been burned off. The side of his face and neck raw and pink. As Ishmael sat back, Racquel rushed forward, with the Medikit open, and unstoppered an aerosol spray. Synth-skin. And began spraying, liberally.
"Oil on the chassis...Don't worry friend. I know what you're talking about..." the inquisitor said, hopefully deciphering whatever word-disassociation Loweth was trying to say. Synth-skin, a combination of anti-toxins, ion-packed moistures, densely-packed platelets and steroids. Specifically tailored to burn victims. With any luck, there'd be a minimum of scar-tissue.

Phobo came back. Bottles of rotgut booze in hand. The Inquisitor takes one from the sister. Her eyes bloodshot, the Inquisitor downs a few gulps. And comes away breathing heavy, as those who don't take breaths when drinking usually do. Crouching next to Loweth, in his melted-leather chair, Jacqueline moves forward and asks "Stimms or booze?" she indicates with each item.
Loweth stares at her blankly, and reaches out for the booze. As a sickening, tearing sound erupts from Loweth and the chair. The two had fused together in the intense heat as Loweth's skin tore away. Ishmael's healing may have discarded the dead tissue, but, it still wasn't pretty to watch. Initially, the underside of Loweth's arm came away red-raw. But, slowly at first, the pores started leaking blood and clear plasma. Jacqueline reacts quickly with the synth-skin.

Loweth gulps the booze. "What happened?" says the Inquisitor.
The Tech Adept, between mouthfuls of alcohol began. COLOR="Indigo"]"Breached atmosphere. Commenced descent and rendevouzing with the Tower-"[/COLOR] Loweth took a swig of rotgut. "Modifyed flight direction and tangents according to Tower's instructions. Inspected the planet... Loweth hit the booze again. "Identified a standard-pattern Chimera Armoured Personnel Carrier moving through the Lho-fields. The Nox...She imparted to me that we were being tracked." Loweth downed the rest of the bottle as Jacqueline passed the Tech Adept another bottle of rotgut. Nox imparted that we were targeted. The Chimera on the surface released it's payload..."
"What!? We were fired upon!?" the Inquisitor narrowed her eyes. "Chimeras mean Imperial Guard...After I'd told them we were coming..."
Loweth blurted "Mistress...Please...The Chimera bore symbols the Machine Spirit did not approve of. It is my inferrance that the Chimera's Machine Spirit may have even departed altogether, finding it's purpose polluted." Loweth took another mouthful of the foul-tasting alcohol. "The Nox Lumina was fired upon. I took evasive maneuvers, but...Tracking. Hunter-Killer class Krak Missile. I tried to evade collision, the projectile instead breached the undercarriage and detonated within the cockpit. I endevoured to do the best I could...But, the incendiary...Pain...I endevoured to make planetfall less fatal...I apologise Mistress, I have failed..."
"Groxballs! Had you stayed the course, you'd be dead now, and our landing wouldnt've been so..." she glanced around the shattered cockpit "Soft. I promise you Loweth, someone will burn for this..."
Jacqueline stood and nodded towards Phobo. "They burn ours-" the Inquisitor indicated Loweth Ross in his melted-leather chair. "-Then we burn theirs."

Malakai and Davix
Outside the ship, aside from the two-storey deep divut creating a 'ramp'. From a shallow incline, when the Nox Lumina first grounded, to the deep canyon-like area the ship created as it ploughed through the ground. The dirt and small rocks are scattered everywhere, and crushed Lho plants litter the ground. Not to mention the smell.
Off in the distance, outside the 'crater' the sound of a promethium-fuelled engine on full throttle can be heard.

Benedict and Garvel
Patting down the Merchant-Captain, you find his Flamer-inscribed Lho-lighter and a small case of Lho-cigars. Nothing you didn't expect. However, as you reach inside his greatcoat. Two things happen. First, his eyes snap open, filled with deadly malice and an instant later, a audible click sound happens as Jonas now has an exotic Needle Pistol aimed at the Cleric, and, his right 'hand'...The multi-tool, now emitting an enourmous amount of heat and shedding the light normally emitted by acetylene torches, was almost touching Garvel's middle section as the Arbiter was bent over the prone captain. It was probably a safe bet to believe that not only had Jonas Aries 'figured out' his multi-tool; It was likely that his multi-tool had the deadly cutting power that it looked like it had.
"I think you should stop looking where you don't have any business. Eh, lads?"

[Krrth]

Ishmael

Ishmael felt the Tech-Priest heal. He had undergone similar pain during his sanctioning and knew full well what was happening. When the screaming was done, he sat back and watched as the synth-skin was sprayed on Loweth.

I am sorry for the side effects. Normal method is to use that ability on heavily sedated patients, so as to spare them. We....didn't have time.

*looking at the Inquisitor*

I can heal him more in 12 hours if necessary. Any sooner than that risks complications.

[loopy]

Tenet

He'd been running longer than he'd ever run in his life, outside a gymnasium or sports complex. Tenet detested running. His life to date had been making other people run around panicked, and the reversal was not lost on him.

His leather shoes were ruined, running through the damp soil of the lho-fields. I'll need to replace them, when I get out of this mess... If I get out of it at all.

I just have to make it to that downed ship, and then... Then what? Hope there are survivors? Check to see if they are hauling a load of anti-tank weaponry? God-Emperor, bless this one in his hour of need.

He reached the ship, only to find himself staring down a weapon-barrel of a Guardsmen, though clearly not of the local stripe...

Through heaving breaths, he tries to convey the situation. "Thank the God-Emperor... My name... Tenet... Du Khan... Workers... cracked on 'slaught, turned on me, damned brother sent... they've got a tank... coming this way! Help me, please!"

[Verruckt]

The pain of the priest quickly takes Phobo's mind of of any further interrogation of the psyker. She'd heard screams like that before, thousands staked and immolated lining the streets of the capitol of Faedrus IX, a reminder of that world's transgressions against the Emperor of Man. Seeing Loweth cleansed in reverse was unique.

Seeing that her usual slap on the back or reassuring punch in the arm would be horrifically unsuited to the current situation she tries to catch Loweth's gaze and says "Mend well, May your lenses focus purely." She wasn't sure if that made sense, but she thought she'd heard the crazy Sollex say something like it before. Nodding to Raquel's statement/order she makes her way back through the ship intent on finding whoever shot them down and murdering them in a most incendiary fashion.

She turns out of the cockpit in time to come across the standoff between the Arbite, the Captain and the Cleric. Coming in from behind the captain she quietly limbers her lasgun and rests the bayonet blade against the back of his ear.

"We've already nearly lost one priest on this boat today Captain, try to ventilate the other and I'll not hesitate to pump a few megajoules through that half-pint of Grox leavings you call a brain. I'm in the mood to burn something, so please put the gun away and let us get on with finding who tried to kill the lot of us so we can hang them by their ankles from the walls of the nearest cathedral and use them as carnival lights."

[Aemoth]

Benedict twists his wrist slowly as to point the end of his flamer at the Captain. "Stand down." Benedicts voice is firm and commanding, "We were given instructions to search you for possible ways to aid our dying pilot. The more time we waste here the less time he has to survive." The Redemptionist moves his eyes from the Captain down to his readied flamer. "So unless we want to have it out right here, right now, I suggest you lower both of your weapons and help us."

[SuperMuldoon]

Malakai

Looking out of the shadows from his perch on top of their wrecked ship, he sees a figure come running out of the lho field and stumble up to Davix. Sighting the newcomer in his scope, Malakai could quickly tell by his gestures that this man was not a threat, especially since he was gesturing back in the direction where the rumble of an engine could be heard. Malakai quickly turns his scope to the area, trying to find the source of the noise...and hoping there would be some way for him to stop it.

[The_Shaman]

Garvel

Damn, the Arbites thought. Am I that slow, or is he that fast? I might need to train harder.

Garvel's other hand jumped towards the backpack, but he forced himself to stop it. He was slower, he had to admit it - but right now he didn't need to be faster anyway. He was quite sure it wasn't med-supplies the captain was so warp-bent on keeping. Let him keep his secrets for now.

He waited for the captain to say his say and calm down, though unfortunately his comrades had interjected with their own opinion in the meantime. Oh well. At least the captain was reminded of his position here.

Good to see you are... unhurt, captain. With all that said, where do you keep the medical supplies? That scream just now meant they are needed in a hurry.

[Cheesegear]

:Passenger Bay:
Jonas Aries rolls away and manages to get to his feet. He looks dizzy for a second as the burning torch on his right hand fades out. He seems surprised by that for a brief moment, until he regains his head and looks alarmingly at the acolytes surrounding him.
"Medical sup-" Captain Aries begins. "Why would I have medical supplies!? That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard. I'm not a Doc." he says, using the hive slang for 'medicae'. "You just want to find something on me...I know how it works." he finally holsters his elaborate pistol. "I know how this goes, I pull my weapon, start shooting, you get to execute me. Free as you please. Groxsh-" he coughs. "I mean; I'm onto you lads," he nods to Phobo "and lasses. Like Warp am I going to let that happen. I'll tell you right now, that I've got nothing on me. So, you can stop going through my person. I've learned my lesson." he holds up his hand-now-cutting torch.

"Now...I'm off to have words with Racquel." he says as he 'puts the shoulder in' as he shoves past Phobo to get out of the passenger bay.

:Outside:
Through the scope of his rifle, Malakai can see the sun - which is starting to boil both Malakai and Davix already - glint off a large metallic object, possibly a heavy vehicle (likely the tank the runaway mentioned), snaking it's way through the Lho fields, leaving a long track of ruined plants in it's wake and a trail of thick smoke in the air.

[Verruckt]

Phobo nearly sighs when Aries tries to shove his way past her. She doesn't want to stop him, but she resents being pushed aside by a man who'd just pulled a gun on a member of the Ecclesiarchy and is in an ornery mood to begin with. She plants one foot back and plants her left palm in a straight arm shove behind Aries leading shoulder as he tries to manhandle his way through. Still somewhat concussed she imparts perhaps more force than is necessary, knocking him into the bulkhead. She turns the strong arm into a cold gaze.

"The words you were searching for were 'Excuse me, Sister.' Given your courtesy I wonder why my Master saw fit to take a hand instead of your tongue. Taking the last few minutes into account I'd mind your habits, she might think Nox could use a mute welding servitor..."

Phobo turns from the Captain, ignoring his response if any, and adresses the other two companions present.

"The Psyker saw to Loweth's wounds, I think he'll be okay. As it is I think we'd serve everyone best by helping establish a perimeter outside."

[SuperMuldoon]

Malakai

Malakai sighs when he spots the armored vehicle approaching them. He slings his rifle and hops down from atop the ship, walking past Davix and Tenet and into the ship proper, heading to inform Racquel about the situation outside. Passing through the ship, he sees the group standing off with Captain Aries as he tries to force his way past Phobo. Malakai strides through the confrontation without making eye contact with any of them.
"There's at least one heavy vehicle heading our way. A local is outside with Davix and says it's a tank, maybe something about a local rebellion." he says while continuing on to the cockpit to speak to Racquel.

Once inside the cockpit, Malakai stands at attention and begins to speak."Mistress, there is a heavy vehicle, possibly armored, approaching our position. Davix has made contact with a local, who appears to be fleeing from said vehicle. The local claims it is a tank, and made mention of a rebellion of sorts. I reccomend immediate action be taken to prepare ourselves for anti-armor combat." Malakai waits for a response and further orders, but if none come he heads back outside to resume his sniping position on top of the ship.

[The_Shaman]

Garvel

The arbitrator bites his lip in anger - much of which at himself. No, the chances of the captain having a personal medicae stash on himself were pretty slim - were the orders of his mistress issued with another meaning that he had not understood, or were they unclear because of the stress she was under at the time? Regardless, his performance here was inadequate. Still, a shuttle should come with a medicae cabinet somewhere, and it is quite unlikely that the captain would not know where it is.

Of course, after the stunt the Sister pulled it would be futile to continue with the conversation. Garvel cursed inwardly... Physical intimidation of this sort had its time and place, and he was quite sure "now and here" were not it. Their mistress most likely wanted the man's continued service, and would not approve of killing him unless strictly necessary...He put a hand on the shotgun just in case.

(Barring a particularly complicated situation with the captain or future orders, and after the captain leaves, Garvel sighs with exasperation and gives Phobo a "great going" look. Sister, with due respect - antagonizing the captain further was not necessary at present. Apparently, our mistress still holds his services as useful. What were you shooting for, here?)

Speaking of shooting, he thinks, we might need to prepare ourselves soon. He looks around, appraisingly, looking for a larger gun than what he has...And speaking of shooting, do you think anything here can help against an armored vehicle?.

[Lycan 01]

Trooper Davix Thrope

Davix levels his shotgun at the local as he approaches, but lowers his aim as the man sputters on about workers cranked on Slaught or something along those lines. But upon hearing the word "tank" from the stranger, his eyes go wide in shock. "There's a tank coming this way?!"

Davix looks over towards Malakai, and sees that he's already heading back into the ship. He knows he should run back inside to, but the tank sounded as though it was closing in on them fast. If everyone was inside the ship when it arrived, it would only have to focus its aim on the exit, and no one would be getting out alive. But if somebody stayed outside to keep it occupied...

"You, local! What sort of tank is it? Chimera? Leman Russ? What sort of armament does it have? What are we dealing with here?!" he growls, trying to weigh his options.

[loopy]

Tenet

"'You, local?'" Tenet's indignation bursts through the shock of the last few hours. "Care you watch your tone, my good man, I'm Tenet Hansi Lacroix Du Khan, of the Du Khan Cartel, and certainly not a local of this cesspool they call a planet."

He sighs, "Now, as to your questions, I'm no soldier, so I can't be sure, but it looked like some sort of Personnel Carrier to me, so I'd say a Chimera. Asked for one of them myself, but the Guard likes to keep power centralised... or did... For whatever good it seems to have done them!"

His voice grows cold. "If those miserable scum have ransacked my villa, I'll be rather upset with them... But back to the matter at hand. Who are you, and how many men do you have with you? You look like Guard, however, that man who just retreated certainly did not." He straightens his muddied jacket, checking to see that his autopistol is still holstered under his arm. "Nevertheless, looks like I'm in the market for some new bodyguards. I'll pay you well once we get back to civilisation. What do you say?"

Charm: [roll0] (Target of 49, if I'm reading skills correctly)

[Lycan 01]

Davix

Davix's eye twitches slightly. He then grins widely. "Oh, my dearest apologies, Mr. Du Khan. I had no idea who you were. Believe me sir, if I'd known who you were..." his expression grows stern, and his voice hardens, "I'd still talk to you the same way! Screw formalities! There's a FRAKKING CHIMERA on its way here! You think BOLT ROUNDS care what sort of family name you've got?! NOW GET IN THE FRAKKING SHIP!!" Davix orders the man.

A Chimera... Worst-case scenario, it had a fore-mounted bolter cannon, a pintel-mounted stubber or autocannon, and fire-ports for the passengers to fire from. Best case scenario... about the same. But if they were coming to check out the ship, they'd probably have at least a few men riding in the APC.

He decided it was worth a shot. Now all he needed was some cover to hide behind. Surely the crash had thrown up some nice hunks of rock or debris to conceal him...


I suppose I should look for cover to hide behind. Will I need to make some sort of hide roll as well? My skill probably isn't all that good... :smallfrown:
[roll0] vs. Awareness: 32

FRAK! Hm. Maybe I can have a +10 modifier since the crash probably churned the earth up pretty good and threw plenty of ground around? :smallbiggrin:

Oh, and I'm sorry for ignoring your roll, but I'm pretty sure the presence of a Chimera would be more important to Davix, which would probably give you at least a -10 penalty. :smalltongue:

[Aemoth]

Benedict makes no further moves to provoke Jonas as he rolls away, however as he turns to leave he does make one last comment to the departing Captain. "You need not have a weapon drawn for me to execute you. Hint at the slightest heresy or mutation and I will evoke all of my pent up anger towards working with a vile psyker upon you."

As Malakai strides through the room and makes his quick comment Benedict's eyes go wide. His expertise was in dealing with squishy biological beings and how he could help aid against an armored tank he had no idea. He completely forgets about the Captain and the rest of the dispute and turns to head toward the exit. "God-Emperor protect us. . ." his voice softens as he makes a quick prayer before jumping out of the Nox and begins to march toward the closing dust cloud while trying to find a way to prevent it from pinning everyone inside the ship.

[Verruckt]

Phobo opens her mouth to respond to Garvel when the assassin comes through. She immediately switches to a mental war footing. No time for squabbles, this is what she lives for, this is what she eats sleeps and breathes. Impending combat against a superior force, a tank? Hopefully the local was overly excited and they wouldn't find a Russ rumbling towards them. An HK likely meant one of the Imperium's many armed transports, but even one of those outgunned anything they had aboard.

"Later, we need to prepare, and we don't have much time."

She brings her lasrifle close and heads back to the cockpit, beckoning Garvel to follow her with a nudge of her chin.

"Master, do we have anti-armor on board? If not I think we may need to resort to something a little more asymmetrical."

[Lycan 01]

Davix

Davix breaks from the stranger, and runs towards the nearest field of lho plants. He casts a glance back at the ship, and notices the Priest exiting the craft. "It's a Chimera, Father! I've got the left flank!" Davix calls out to his comrade. "If you get the left flank, we can pincer them! I'll blast the gunner on the pintel-mount, and you can flame the guys who come out the back of it! That should buy the others time to get off the ship and find cover! Good luck, Father! Emperor bless you!" he remarks as he rushes into the lho crop. Once he finds a nice place to lurk, he crouches down under the crops, and listens to the roar of the approaching tank. "Emperor on Earth, Guiding Light of Humanity, hear my prayer..." he begins to whisper.



I'm a genius if this works, and a very stupid fool if it doesn't. :smallbiggrin:

Exiting the ship, I'm off on the left side, a good distance from the ship. The Chimera probably won't stop directly in front of the ship, so hopefully I'll pop out a little bit towards the back of its right flank... But if it does stop right in front of the ship, I'll probably end up behind it, so I'd have a good field of fire on the guys exiting from the back. Hopefully...

At any rate, I'm gonna hunker down in the crops, and wait until I hear the Chimera show up...

Good luck everyone.

[Aemoth]

Benedict takes a brief moment to process Davix's strategy and then quickly moves into the Lho fields. He sprints above the Lho for a short way before dropping below the plants into a low crouch. His flamer cradled between his legs he begins to pray to the God-Emperor for protection and a hint of luck. If everything goes as planed the transport will soon be engulfed in promethium and the bastards that shot them out of the sky will be running around as burning effigies to the one true God of the Universe.
Lord on High, guide our hands as we move forth to do your work. Let our aim hold true and our weapons, the instrument of your will, hold tight. Lead us into victory so that we may continue to work in your ways. In the name of the God-Emperor, guardian of all mankind. Amen.


Moving to the right, left if that's what you meant Lycan, but I'm pretty sure a pincer is one on each side and since you're left I'll take right (Firing on the left flank of the tank if it is facing the ship). Should the large flamer tank be too high to crouch he is going to go prone... but from the pictures I think he should be able to do a very low to the ground crouch with his feet still on the ground.

[loopy]

Tenet

Emperor have mercy, Tenet thinks to himself, watching all manner of strange individuals exit the ship. I would have been better just running straight past them.

He crouches low, following Davix into the lho-fields. He draws his pistol, flicks the safety off, and waits for the approaching Chimera.

[Krrth]

Ishmael

Mistress, we should probably grab whatever items you think we need. I don't know if that vehicle is hostile or not, but considering our circumstances I don't want to risk it.

Ishmael starts moving towards the outside.

[Lycan 01]

Davix

Before Davix can pray any further, he realizes that the aristocrat has followed him. "What are you doing?!" he hisses. Then he notices the handgun the man has. He arches an eyebrow. "Du Khan, was it? You probably would have been better off hiding in the ship... But the Emperor's Will be done. When I pop up, you pop up as well, although we'll need some distance between us so they can't just hose us down with one burst. You want the pintel-mount gunner, or the guys comin' out the back?" he grins.

He then pulls a grenade from his combat webbing, and holds it out to the man. "Take this. It might come in handy. Its best against personel, but if we can get one inside the tank... Oh-ho-ho, can you smell the Heathen barbeque? Heh heh... he chuckles. His face then straightens, and in all seriousness he remarks, "May the Emperor watch over you, and may our aim fall under his guidance."



-1 Grenade for Davix. :smalltongue:

[loopy]

Tenet

Tenet snorts quietly. "One of the things you'll learn about me, soldier, is that I don't cower while others do my dirty work for me." He hefts the grenade, testing its weight. "What do you think our chances would be of taking this Chimera whole? Where-ever you are headed, I'll be coming with, at least until I can get back to my villa."

"I'll see if I can take down the workers. Those gakking serfs are eating into my profits, chewing up the Cartel's lho-field like this."

"Emperor protects." He intones. But me most of all.

[Lycan 01]

Davix

"Good to hear..." Davix smirks. "I'd say its a 50/50 chance. If we can take out the gunner and the occupants, and somehow get inside before they close it up, we can take it intact. But that'll be tricky. It'd probably be easier to get a grenade inside, especially through the roof hatch if we take out a gunner, but that'd likely chew up the systems... And then of course there's the chance we'll all be mulched by bolter fire. Which reminds me..."

He arches an eyebrow at Du Khan. "What can you tell me about this Chimera? Any idea what sort of guns its got on it? Bolter? Stubber? Fire-ports? Do you know who's driving it, or if they brought friends? You said something about workers on Slaught, but are they the ones inside? Oh... And did it have any sort of markings on it? Regimental insignia, banners, grafitti, strange images... that sort of stuff?"

[Cheesegear]

Jacqueline narrows her eyes as Jonas Aries comes up the stairs.
"Do you have any idea what your..." Aries begins to shout, but is interrupted as the Inquisitor holds up her hand.
"I don't care. We've got bigger problems. A-" the woman turns as Loweth speaks up in a raspy voice.
"Greetings, enlightened one." says the Tech Priest facing forwards, still in his chair.
"What?" says the Captain.
"Querey; Your augmetics have finally activated?"
"Really?" says Jacqueline.
"During the...Landing. The good Captain's adrenal glands must have activated. Accelerating the neural pathways. Standard bio-electrical signals must have activated his implant. I can sense his current from my position. Querey; Captain, did you fall unconcious?"
"Yes." keeping his answer short.
"I thought that was from shock?"
"Yes." said Loweth. "The shock of his brain shutting down as all power was routed to the augmetics. From this point forward, Captain Aries should endevour to maintain a high glucose diet, as activating his augmetic for it's designated purpose will deplete his brain activity. Without a diet of steady sugars - recaf will not be suitable - I fear Captain Aries may arrive at unconciousness many times, perhaps leading to permanent brain malfunction."

"What have you done to me?" Jonas half whispers.
"I've put a steel plate cutter in your wrist. I'm sure you can see how that might be useful." the Inquisitor gave a half-smile. "Now, cut him out." Jacqueline indicates the crumpled control deck that had pinned Loweth in place. "As for the rest of you, my ship is still salvageable. I have no intention of letting locals destroy it, let alone ransack it. Wait...Where did Benedict go?"
The Inquisitor looked at Phobo, Malakai and Ishamael and Garvel. "How did he get past everyone with nobody noticing?"

By some miracle, one of the Nox Lumina's proximity scanners was still beeping. Two of the blips showed up green. Davix and Benedict's bio-signatures already inputted into the ship's databank. A large square - possibly the Chimera APC - icon indicated on the screen, with four or five red dots similar in size to Davix and Benedict were slowly moving out from the tank. There was another red dot behind one of the green dots.

"I'm not worried about Davix. He has training for this, and he has accepted that his life my be the Emperor's already. I know he accepted that a long time ago. But, by Mount Amalath...Benedict is going to get himself killed, so let's move out before that happens." the Inquisitor draws her Eldar sword and a bolt pistol.
"Sons arise." said Loweth, looking at the redoubt on the scanner.
Racquel's lips straightened into a line. "That they do, old friend." she rounded on Jonas. "Seriously, cut him out. I don't care what damage you do to my ship. Just get him out." she turns, then, turns back "Oh, and make sure you eat something..."
Jonas' face was already white.

Jacqeline made her way up the bowl of the crater.

[SuperMuldoon]

Malakai

Malakai dashes to the exit of the ship, hoping to be able to get himself in position before the tank arrives. He hustles up the side of the crater opposite of where the Chimera is arriving and "roadie runs" through the lho field to put some distance in between him and the enemy. Realizing that he won't be able to get a clean shot through the field, Malakai changes tactics.
Drawing his sword, Malakai begins to creep toward where he believes the enemy to be, ready to silently end thier lives on his blade.


OOC: OKAY! so changed it up a little based on the OOC thread stuff. I'll throw some rolls out in the OOC thread...

[Verruckt]

Phobo falls in behind her Inquisitor, rifle snug in her shoulder, held low and ready to snap up and start tagging. Any unanswered queries are gone from her mind, she's been given an order by a superior (and inquisitors are about as superior as they get) and she will carry it out. The fact that a member of the clergy is in the middle of a field of highly flammable plants attempting to take on an IFV with a flamethrower and a few fire bombs is urging her along as well.

Not that it was impossible to down a vehicle with such equipment, she'd seen rebel teams deal with troop carriers just so with gruesome results, but they'd had the advantage of height and hard cover afforded by urban terrain. The trick of dropping a cocktail through an open hatch and spewing promethium into the open ramp as the occupants tried to get away from the flames would only serve to kill them all if the field caught fire in the process. Even then Benedict could only hope to put that plan in action if he dealt with the creeping assailants and managed to not get cut in half buy the vehicle's guns.

She runs along side Malakai when he first exits the ship, but splits off as he makes for a good shooting position. Adopting a gait similar to the assassin's she rushes through the nearly waist high plants with head down, shoulders hunched and rifle close. She's heading towards what she believes to be Benedict's position relative to his blip on Nox's scanner. As soon as she sees the Chimera she hits the dirt and starts progressing on hands and knees, keeping an eye out for the assailants the scanner indicated.

As she makes her way across the field she slides her bayonet off its lugs and holds it in her left hand, cupped between her palm and the fore-grip of the rifle so she can have better control of the blade down this low to the dirt.

[Lycan 01]

Trooper Davix Thrope

Davix tries to remain low and hidden in the lho field. He can hear the Chimera approaching in the distance, though it sounds like it is having some sort of engine trouble. He decides that it would probably be best to wait for the Chimera to actually get there before he tries anything.

As he waits, he's going to try and listen for any sort of odd noises or communication between enemy personel.





Awareness Check: [roll0] vs 31, to overhear anything the baddies said as they disembarked...

[loopy]

Tenet

Tenet taps the guardsman on his shoulder. "Soldier, should we move around the tank to the back? We'd have a good view through the path of crushed lho it made. Take a couple shots, jump back into cover to avoid returning fire?"

[Aemoth]

As Benedict crouches among the lho plants he notices the extremely dry soil and sun scorched plants. The sun has already soaked his robes in perspiration and if it wasn't for the recoil glove clamping his hand around the flamer he would have to readjust his grip due to his sweating palms.

Damn these fields. . . If I do anything I risk starting an inferno and pinning us back against the Nox. However, the fire could work as either a way to cause panic or a veil to retreat under. I need to play this one by ear. Benedict internalizes his thoughts as the Chimera nears. No need in giving the enemy a speech to find him with.

As he debates over possible tactics he glances down the closest lho fields, keeping his head down and trying not to move the plants as he shuffles underneath them.

[The_Shaman]

Garvel

Garvel gives a short "Yes, ma'am." as he falls in position behind the inquisitor. He thinks the cleric should be experienced enough not to do something suicidal (more suicidal than the usual, at least) - the Emperor protects, but (in general) He tends to protect the careful more than the reckless. His main worry was just how exactly they would take on the Chimera - he had seen quite enough of the blessed machines during his training and even on some of his duty, but had yet to have to destroy one. By and large, however, they were impenetrable to small arms fire... "Any plan on how to neutralize the locals, if they are hostile?" As they most likely would be, but in that case the chance one of his compatriots was or would be dead was alarmingly high.

When he (eventually) went out, he saw the sun on the planet among the endless sky, one blazing eye illuminating huge fields of some plant - lho, if he smelled it right. As he went in fields, he tried to keep a low profile and advance with the rest. No, he must not get lost here. He must not. Emperor help me, he thought as he tried to quell the dread the yellow-green ocean inspired in him ... "Plants. Why did it have to be plants", he muttered under his breath.

[Lycan 01]

Davix

Davix looks at the stranger. "I'm not even sure where the tank is, Mister Du Khan. If we try to sneak up behind it right now, we might end up under it..." he frowns. "When it gets closer, or comes to a stop, though, we might be able to move in quickly and get a few shots in. If the hostiles are close together, we might be able to use grenades... But I think we should stay put for now. There's always a chance they'll spot us if we move..."

[Cheesegear]

:Phobo:
The Sister of Battle, hands and knees in the dirt, spots the Cleric Benedict floundering around in the Lho, looking left and right down through the Lho. Briefly, Phobo spots a pair of men, tanned, weathered skin, their hair cut short. They're bare to the waist, with strong, wiry muscles, every vein in their bodies bulging, the side effects of a powerful blood accelerant currently doing it's course - probably Slaught.

The two men are wearing only linen shorts and light boots. Running low in the Lho, each carrying a deadly-looking curved knife (http://www.dfoggknives.com/copy_of_index/sickle.jpg), held low at their sides. They seem to make a weaving trail through the Lho, that makes them difficult to predict. But, nevertheless, heading quite rapidly towards Benedict.

:Davix and Tenet:
Two men (dressed, looking like the above) jump out from behind you. Silent as ghosts, the only thing the Guardsman and the Nobleman heard was the sound of Lho parting. The two Imperial servents turn just in time to see two farm workers slash down at them with their farming knives.
Without thinking, the Guardsman rolls backwards, shotgun in hand as the blade barely misses gut.
Whilst the worker goes to stab Tenet, he dodges backwards too.

[Krrth]

Ishmael


Ishmael was helping the Inquisitor and tech-priest gather what few supplies they could when combat started.


[roll0] awareness goal: (19)oooo shiny.

[Verruckt]

Phobo spots the men weaving towards the priest. She quickly muffles her instinct to shout a warning to the priest, her getting cut in half by a multi-laser will not help save the priest, and he is not equipped to save himself even if he were aware of his assailants. She slips the bayonet back into its lugs and readies it as a spear. Moving quickly she hurries through the lho towards the nearest assailant, giving herself enough distance to set up a solid charge, hoping to take him out as quickly as possible and hopefully by surprise.

[loopy]

Tenet

Shocked by the sickle carving the air inches from his face, Tenet falls back, aims his autopistol on instinct, switches to full-auto with his thumb, and fires six rounds in his assailants direction.

Ballistic skill +20: [roll0] Target: 64

If he has time, he'll pocket the grenade he's holding in his other hand, and prepare to help Davix deal with the other serf.

[Lycan 01]

Davix

Davix heard the rustling at the last second. Spinning around, he suddenly found himself in the shadow of a shirtless brute wielding a weapon. His instincts kicked in just as the attacker lashed out at him, and the blade came within inches of him as he threw himself backwards. Barely keeping his footing as he flew backwards, Davix recovered his footing and sank to a low crouch. His mind raced. If he fired, he'd give away his position. If he tried to draw a melee weapon, it might take time he didn't have. And the attacker appeared to be high on something - his veins were distended, his muscles were bulging, and his expression was one of unbridled rage. Going toe-to-toe with him might not have been a good idea - but firing into a melee was a worse idea, especially if he accidentally hit his ally.

Shots rang out. Davix realized that Mister Du Khan had opened fire. So much for keeping this quiet... Davix thought about firing, but realized that Mister Du Khan might get caught by the shotgun blast. In one deft movement, he released his grip on the shotgun. As gravity took hold of the weapon, and it began to fall, his hands shot to his waist. He gripped the hilt of his sword, and with a snarl he drew the gently curved sabre from its sheathe. Using the momentem of drawing it, he swung the sword outward at his attacker.

"DIE, HEATHEN!!" Davix barked as he lashed out at his opponent's stomach, hoping to disembowel the heretic.

[SuperMuldoon]

Malakai

Malakai freezes as soon as he hears the sound of gunfire. He takes a moment to listen for sounds around him, and continues his circuitous path through the lho, hoping circle around and get behind the enemy, sword ready to deliver the Emperor's Justice to their foes.

[Aemoth]

Benedict continues to stumble about in the lho trying to get an idea of his location and the possible location of the enemy without standing and receiving a face full of las fire from the closing Chimera. He jumps at the outburst of fire from across the lho and barely manages to remain below the cover of the plant.

After a quick reassessment of the situation the Priest decides it's smarter to stay still and avoid setting fire to the fields and possibly pinning the rest of the acolytes inside the flaming lho.

[roll0] awareness 32 He's blind as a bat
[roll1]Concealment again after startling 32 again, don't know if it's concealment or whatever

What direction is the wind blowing? If there is a dominant direction to the wind it could be an easily controlled burn.

[Cheesegear]

Tenet's autopistol barks on full auto, the first two shots taking the worker in the chest. The worker's Slaught-induced body seems to shrug off the bullets like annoying mosquitoes and the worker continues his advance forward. As luck would have it, through Tenet's hurried aim and recoil the third bullet slams into the worker's arm throwing his swing wide. The fourth shot takes the worker through the head as his brain case explodes outwards and showers the area with gore. The light red blood spraying over the area. Slaught, being a blood thinner makes the blood go further and spread larger.

The other worker, hearing the sound of the heavy autopistol, turns towards the noise. Guns being a new thing to the primitive farmers. The worker watches as his compatriot dies in a bloody mess as the shower of gore showers over the man.

Davix, likewise, is showered in gore. However, seeing the distraction of Du Khan, and knowing his enemy is likewise blinded, the experienced Guardsman takes his time to get his bearings again as he blinks and wipes away the worker's bright blood.

Being on the opposite side of the bullet's exit wound; Tenet du Khan remains relatively clean.

Moments are the gun rings out. Benedict is assaulted from two other workers, who similarly jump out of the Lho brandishing their wicked knives. The first aims a slash at Benedict's face, whilst the second, caught up in the other's movements swings wide as their tactics show that maybe this isn't the way the workers usually fight.

[Verruckt]

Phobo comes in range just in time to see Benedict nearly get his face cut off. She is unhappy about that. The priest books it, which is good, time to let the S.L.A.U.G.H.T. heads (she's guessing, could be any combat stim really with the way their eyes are crazed an veins are bulging, slaught's just a common one) fight someone their own size. She locks her rifle in close and thunders down the row at the sickle wielding opponent who Benedict dodged.

"By The Light of the Throne I will cut you down!"


Sweet Warp don't fail me now.
WS+10 on a charge, 43 to beat: [roll0]
Rending Damage: [roll1]
Parry, 33 to beat [roll2]
shower of ****s

[loopy]

Tenet du Khan

"Teach you to mess with your betters, scum!" Tenet bellows, caution thrown temporarily to the wind. He waits until a shot at the drugcracked serf attacking the guardsman opens up, then fires another six-round burst. The shots looks like they'll go wide, shredding lho but having little other effect, when the serf, in a twist of fate, missteps and takes all six rounds. "Gak you, farmer!" Tenet hisses.

Having attracted more than enough attention, Tenet helps the guardsman to his feet. "Well, that was interesting, but looks like we may be in a world of **** now."

[The_Shaman]

In the poor visibility of the fields, Garvel thinks, close combat is extremely likely. His shotgun would serve him well, but a hive arbitrator is never without a backup plan for when things go downhive... as they often do. He slips his left hand in a pocket, then draws it out again with a set of knuckles on.

Not wanting to get lost, and equally inclined not to miss the battle, Garvel rushes after Phobo to get to the cleric. He keeps his head down, and his gun ready. The high plants obscure his view and for a moment the anxiety of being lost resurfaces, but he does his best to continue. Then he hears what could only be Phobo close ahead, and rushes in, going slightly to the right to come from the side.

He notices Benedict just as two persons with all the telltale signs of heavy stimm-narc users assault him. He raises the shotgun on instinct, trying to get a good shot that does not hit the cleric or the sister...

[Cheesegear]

Tenet, having just killed one of the workers, turns to see Davix and the other worker. Davix was wiping the blood from the previous worker out of his eyes, and the other worker, having seen his friend's head literally explode was facing down the Guardsman with a deadly stare. The worker, too, has blood in his eyes like Davix, however, that wasn't about to stop him.

Tenet, with his honed reflexes, opens up another auto-burst at the the second worker. Even with recoil playing havoc with Tenet's aim, the first shot tears a hole in the worker's back, tearing muscle, digging through the rib cage and lodging itself in the man's heart. The second shot, follows swiftly after the first bullet, strafing the man's chest, with the third shot, still strafing wide, hits the man in the arm, causing him to drop his weapon. The fourth shot, Tenet compensating, hits the man in the cortex, opening up his brain pan from the underside. The fifth shot tore into the man's clavicle bone disjointing the right arm from it's socket, whilst the sixth and final shot hit the worker in the spine, paralysing him from the waist down.
However, the poor worker had been dead from the first shot. His body thrown by several impacts falls forward onto Davix's upraised sword, impaling himself. The weight throwing Davix to the ground. Davix, the enemy's blood, insides and gibs all over him, belies the fact that it was, in fact, Tenet du Khan who had killed both assailants.

On the other side of the field, the workers spot Phobo running towards them, as the worker sets his stance to meet the oncoming Sister. The worker, his speed and senses heightened by the metabolism-accelerator coursing through his veins, meets the bayonet charge head on, as he hooks his curved knife underneath the rifle's barrel and sends it aside. He then tries to disengage his knife from the gun to sweep down for the Sister's throat, however, Phobo, no stranger to battle, wedges her lasgun at an angle to the hemispherical knife and locks the knife down, sending the worker's arm wide.

The second worker, seeing Benedict as no threat sprints towards Garvel, ducking the Battle Sister's charge in the process and heading for the Arbitrator raising his shotgun. Eerily, the worker gives Garvel a smile as he kicks the shotgun to the side, throwing whatever shot Garvel was about to make awry. And slashing at the Arbitrator to no avail, as knife-combat was probably something the Arbitrator had experienced at least a dozen times.

Benedict, seeing the two workers engaged with other attackers, thanks the Emperor at the sight of the Arbitrator and the Battle Sister. Two, quite literal servants of the Emperor's Will. As he makes a rushed run off to the side.

About this time, is when a grinning madman attacks Malakai. His eyes bloodshot, his breathing heavy and rushed. Veins protruding from every conceivable source. His neck and temples pulsating like bugs under his skin. Multitudes of obvious side-effects from whatever cocktail of drugs he had in his system.
He has the same tanned skin and short hair as the other workers, however, he is dressed in a standard-issue Guardsman's uniform. It doesn't fit him. Or, rather, he's made no effort to make it fit. The clasps and buckles on his gloves undone. His combat boots were tied up the way a civilian might tie his shoes. His Guard helmet sat crookedly on his head as the straps under his chin weren't done up correctly, and every movement he made wobbled the helmet. The embossed Aquillas on the worker's helmet left breast had crudely gouged Xs on them.

In one hand, he held a serrated sword, as if someone had taken a standard-issue combat-blade, and then cut segments away from one edge, creating curved spines designed to go into a man, but, not to come out without doing a lot of internal damage. In his other hand, he carries a curved knife like most farmers would. Malakai dodges as the wicked sword comes towards his belly. If he knew what was good for him, he'd stay well away from that sword. The Assassin makes a downward sweep with his own sword to keep the worker's following knife from opening up his femoral artery.

[Verruckt]

Phobo learned bayonet fighting from the best in the sector, and she uses every trick she ever saw the Brontians deploy to bring down the drug addled farm worker before her. She lowers her shoulder and makes a half jab towards the man's groin, diverting and twisting up at the last second in an attempt to open his belly.

[The_Shaman]

Garvel might not have been taught by the very best in the sector, but when it came to dirty fighting and handling drug-boosted miscreants, the Malfi Arbitrators had quite the illustrious tradition. The speed of the perpetrator (technically, Garvel wasn't sure just what the man had perpetrated, but assaulting a member of the Adepti was a fairly solid start and he could think of a dozen or so other offenses) had surprised him, but he was able to dodge the man's slash easily enough.

However, melee combat did not really favor long firearms, and barring a shot favored by Him on Terra Himself, his shotgun would serve him little better than an overlong, poorly balanced club. Ducking under the man's wild follow-through, Garvel dropped the gun, and in the next movement withdrew his baton and aimed a vicious blow to the man's exposed ribs. A drug rush could dull the pain, but a good blow there slows anyone down.

[loopy]

Tenet

Tenet stays low as he moves towards the fallen soldier. Kicking the dead body off his temporary ally, he extends a glove-wrapped hand. "Up we get, guardsman, this isn't over yet." After helping the man up, he continues speaking in a low voice.

"How many of you military-types are there, anyway?" Tenet looks around, cursing the low visibility. "Not looking forward to getting shot by one of your friends if I stick my head out at the wrong time."

[Lycan 01]

Davix

Trooper Thrope reaches up and takes Du Khan's hand. Thanks..." he says, as his new brother-in-arms helps him up off the ground. Davix tries to ignore the squishing sound his armor makes as he moves - his whole body was coated in blood and bits of gore, and most of it had already found its way into his armor and uniform. He then looks around for his shotgun. Upon finding it, he picks it up by its strap and slings it over his shoulder. As he does so, he answers Du Khan's questions. "I'm the only Guardsman in the group. There are several other people with me - a priest, a Sister of Battle, and Arbitrator, a marksman, and a few other... interesting folks..." he explains. He doesn't feel comfortable letting Du Khan know there's an Inquisitor present. Its not the sort of information he felt should be generally known and generously spread around. "Don't worry, you'll know who's on your side. If they aim at you, make the sign of the Aquila and say you're with me... The Aquila should make 'em pause for a second, at least, since most heretics don't like to make it... Now then, lets go find the rest of my group." Having said that, he flourishes his sabre, and stands up to take a look around and see what is going on. He can hear people fighting nearby, so he decides the element of suprise is a commodity he can't afford right now. Just as well, he'd rather be able to see where his enemies are, since he's not in the mood for another surprise attack.

[SuperMuldoon]

Malakai

Malakai studies his opponent intensely, cold eyes scanning for any sort of opening. Emperor guide my blade... Malakai thinks as he spots what he believes is an opening in the brutes defenses and quickly lunges, bringing himself back into position to block any ripostes from that wicked looking blade.

[Aemoth]

Benedict slides to a halt amongst the Lho field. "Emperor curse me. . . This is not a time to be running. If anything I need to be defending my fellow acolytes." He turns and runs back toward his previous engagement to aid Sister Phobo in her charge. How he would fight the crazed assailants he didn't know, but he couldn't keep running from them and avoid burning the fields the whole engagement.

As he ran he came to the conclusion that he would need to use his flamer as a blunt object to bash the brains out of the workers.

[Cheesegear]

Between Phobo and the worker, a vicious stalemate is being fought. With Phobo's bayonet locked into the worker's sickle, both she and the worker try stabbing and slashing at the other to no avail. The worker, this his free hand tries to punch Phobo, however it doesn't amount to anything serious. The hardened Battle Sister merely taking the punch to her forearm.

Benedict, the Cleric makes an attack at the worker. But, is clearly unused to using his flamer to bash people in the head. And the swing goes horribly wide. Benedict would have to practice. Or find a weapon more suited to bludgeoning someone's head in.

The Guardsman Davix - with the help of the displaced noble Tenet - manages to right himself. Covered in so much gore, it's hard to tell if the Guardsman had been wounded or not. But, the bright red - almost pink - colour suggested that it wasn't likely his blood. The blood remained wet and slick, and didn't appear to be hardening - forming into clots - at all. A probable side effect of the blood thinning Slaught.

The Arbitrator Garvel slams his Arbitrator's Baton into the attacking worker's mid-section. Eliciting a gruff oompf. Ordinarily, that move - perfected by all Arbiters - should have winded most citizens of the Imperium and have them gasping for air. Or vomiting. Or both. But, on this particular worker, it had hardly any effect at all. The worker gave a half-hearted slash with his curved knife at Garvel. It failed to connect. But, the worker, seeing that Garvel had brought a real weapon to the melee, kept his distance. Wary.

Over on the other side of the field, Malakai was dealing with his own problems. His opponent wielding two weapons. The curved knife came slithering inside Malakai's guard. Malakai managed to dodge the fairly unimposing knife as the serrated sword came stabbing forward threatening to disembowel the assassin. Malakai brought his own sword down and sheared it to the side in a sweeping maneuver. The knife wasn't the problem.

:Inside the Ship:
Captain Aries sat down, breathing heavily, panting. Gasping for air. He'd cut the control console away from Loweth Ross' legs. The Tech Priest gave his knees a wiggle. They still worked. All mobility intact. Severe bruising. But, intact nonetheless.
The Tech Priest motioned to Ishmael, the psyker.
"Please assist me in rising Psykan Ishmael." Loweth said, using the honourific forgotten by most of the Imperium. "I apologise that I will need your assistance whilst my biological fluids return to the lower extremities of my person. It should not take long. I only need to stand. Make use of my muscles again." He pointed towards the fatigued Captain. "I apologise to you also Captain, but I require your assistance and vital cutting tool once more. I am not aware if the Mistress or her acolytes are in possession of a weapon capable of rendering an armoured vehicle inert. I will assume the negative. We should endeavor to salvage the prow-mounted Laser Cannon from the Nox Lumina. I hope she forgives me..." Loweth trailed off as his mind began sorting through whatever computations the Tech Priest was working out.

[Verruckt]

Phobo grunts and throws a fake knee into the messy melee. The maneuver doesn't quite work though, and robs her of needed grounding to break the bayonet free of the deadlock and ram it into her opponents torso, though not for lack of trying. She growls in frustration.

[Krrth]

Ishmael

Of course I will help.

*Ishmael helps Loweth stand*

Tell me what you need me to do and I will endeavor to accomplish it.

*pauses and looks at the ship*

I believe she will forgive us as long as we defeat the enemy and repair here later.

[Aemoth]

Benedict digs a foot into the soil to brace himself before twisting back and swinging his impromptu blunt weapon once more at his target. He mutters a prayer hoping that this time he will atleast make contact.

[The_Shaman]

Garvel has only enough time to spare a sideways look at his comrades before focusing again on the attacker. He did not seem to be a trained combatant, this much was obvious. However, it was obvious that the man was operating on a stimulant - slaught or otherwise - that was making him much more dangerous than he'd otherwise be. The rib shot he had on the man was a good enough initial advantage - but more would be required.

The arbitrator pursed his lips, studying the man's movements. He thought he saw a pattern of weakness in his movements, and attacked.

[loopy]

Tenet

Tenet flicks his pistol to single-fire and chances a look above the lho. If he sees anyone who looks like an enemy, he aims, fires, then ducks down again.

If he catches the attention of the enemy, or someone starts firing, he drops to the ground, cursing. "Gak me sideways, I'm going to kill my brothers for sending me to this forsaken mudhole of a planet!"


Awareness: [roll0] (Target 40)
Pistol: [roll1] (Base BS 42, don't know the mods, away from books)
Damage: [roll2]

[Lycan 01]

Davix

Davix notices Tenet preparing his pistol. "Watch it," he warns. "Try not to hit anyone who's not a heretic..." He then notices Benedict fighting for his life, and realizes that while everyone else can handle themselves, the priest is outmatched. He then runs towards the priest, flourishing his sabre in his right hand while he tries to wipe the blood from his armor with his left hand.



Awareness: [roll0] vs 32
Dodge: [roll1] vs 15
Parry: [roll2] vs 38