Haarlock's Wake: The Locks of the Gate IC [Dark Heresy]

[Kiranvonstrom]

Haarlock's Wake: The Gate is Locked For A Reason
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"Now if we could only find those frakking keys..."

The Hyades Locks. An unknown even in the Inquisitorial Archives. A tremendously powerful superweapon. And, perhaps, the key to victory, or at least, some element of power, over the forces of chaos.
Due to an inquisitorial order, coded as 4815162342, they are also considered to be forbidden, unusable by anyone, and, if possible, all knowledge of them erased. But those are the ideas of the weaklings who would avoid using the power it granted to them simply because it might be dangerous to them. After all, isn't it better to allow one pawn to die to checkmate the king?
Rules have never bothered you anyway. You decided awhile ago that, if you need something done, you need to ensure it gets done with as much power as possible.
With more than a little guesswork, and a lot of inventively applied mathmatics, you have located one.
Malfi, a planet notorious for its intrigue and labyrinthine halls.
But Malfi is a big place, and finding the lock will be difficult, to say the least. On the other hand, problems like this are why you are an Throne Agent, rather than some shmuck off the street. If there is one thing that really doesn't last on Malfi (other than innocence, honesty or loyalty) it's a secret. If it's a secret, according to the way of Malfi, then it's valuable. And, if there's one rule about the markets of the Imperium, if it's valuable, then somebody is probably selling it.
So, on a tenous lead from an old friend, (your old master, actually) there is someone out there with that knowledge. That someone is Magister Liam Callidon, a Malifan expert in forbidden technology, especially the items hidden on the hive world during its murky past. One meeting arangement later, you were on the metaphorical road to Malfi.
Which brings us the where you are right now; an Aquilla-pattern lander, touching down on the landing pad of Datacrypt 7b, the home, or, as some terrified archivists would call it, lair, of Magister Callidon.
With a hiss, the doors of the Aquilla open, revealing a stark grey landing platform under equally stark and only slighly lighter skies. There is nobody here to greet you, a factor that you have come to enjoy with your inquisitorial status.
While this could be a snub of some sort, it could just as easily be that Magister Callidon and his (reportedly) semi-sentient halitosis have finally driven all the people working in the daracrypt out.
Either way, you still have an appointment to make.

OOC:
Begin!

[Artemis97]

As soon as the doors of the lander open Drusilla Olearius steps out onto the landing pad, her skirts rustling with the quickness of her movements. Despite her dull and spartan surroundings, the Adept was excited to be here. Not only was this the first time she had returned to her homeworld in years, it was a chance of a lifetime to delve the depths of Magister Callidon's archives. The man's reputation did not discourage her. Drusilla was on a hunt, and nothing would stop her until she had found her prize, no matter how many hours of research it took.

The lady was closely followed by Ignotus, her dutiful servitor. He was a creation of incredible craftsmanship, all gold and ivory and pale, powdered flesh. His movements were so well programmed, one could almost forget he was mechanical. Drusilla had dressed him in finery fit for a masquerade ball, complete with a solid white mask. Though, some would notice the style was years out of date, and the mask had a nick in the socket of the left eye. At present, Ignotus was serving as a porter, carrying his lady's possessions.

Above them floated a pair of servo-skulls. One encased a glow-globe which shone down with a soft yellow light, illuminating the landing pad below. Two more concentrated beams of white light shone out from its eyes, and the top of its skull was encrusted in candle wax. The second had pinpoints of red light in its eye-sockets. A speaker grille was held inside its widely grinning jaws. It bobbed in a circle around its more stationary cousin. There was a click and a burst of static as it began to play some, what it seemed to believe was, appropriate music (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ekzslGuSQC8).

[Calimos]

"Ladies first", thought Inquisitor Reinhart, as he followed his trusted adept down the ramp from the Aquila Lander, after nodding in acknowledgement to the pilot, for their safe passage. A tall, lean and imposing man, in his mid-fifties, Marcus Reinhart still had the appearance and demeanour of a hardened arbitrator veteran, his eyes sparking with intelligence, his every move calculated with precision, utterly devoted to his task and following it with unnering dedication since his induction to the Holy Ordos.

The words of his old master still rung to his ears..."If the end doesn't justify the means, then - by the Golden Throne - boy, I don't know what does. Never forget that".

He cleared his thoughts, tested his microbead and beckoned to his cadre to follow. The appointment here was of the utmost importance and he needed to be sure that everything would be perfectly executed. Of course, he didn't attain inquisitorial status by trusting everything and everyone and that was why he relied only on his most proven and dedicated agents to accompany him on such a mission, which - if successful - could catapult him among the privileged ranks of the most notorious Malleus Inquisitors of Calixis sector. Thoughts of vanity came second though, for the greatest reward - as it had always been - was the certainty that he did, once again, his very best in the unending battle for Mankind's survival.

Inquisitor Reinhart approached Drussila, his esteemed adept and after nodding to her courteously - as was his habit - he asked. "How was the trip back home dear? Does this cause more anxiety or the nigh - limitless vault of knowledge and his infamous guardian that awaits us? Let's hope that we find him in a good mood."

Next he nodded to Magos Paratus, whose status in Cult Mechanicus and high recommendation from Reinhart's old master, in conjuction with his expertise in the more obscure fields of technological wonders and procedures had made him an esteemed agent and one most suited to evaluate the potential of the Lock should they discover it.

He made sure his faithful psyker, Adelbert was also in good shape. His status in Scholastica Psykana Calixis could offer him a much calmer way of living and a potentially much more prestigious status in its ruling body, yet - to his credit - he still enjoyed to conduct the Emperor's work in the field, accompanying a younger breed of Inquisitor, in order to "see how the younger generation carry out the duty of ceaseless vigilance".

Then, he set his black cloak properly, covering his armor, pulled the hood over his head and after waiting for the rest of the cadre to disembark, he moved forth, notifying via microbead Javert, his infiltration, concealment and assassination expert, to watch over them from the shadows. It never hurt to possess an element of surprise and he was certain that Javert would be more than up to the task.

[UncleWolf]

Javert stayed silent as the order comes through, still in the process of disembarking from the transport. He pauses, pondering the implications of the order as he grips the exit's side with his fresh cybernetic hand. He gives it a look through his mask, noticing how that even under the glove of his synskin, that it seemed so...foreign. His arms were as good as before, better even, but it didn't feel right. Not a single bit of him did any more.

He couldn't remember the explosion, nor the event which triggered it. It wasn't unexpected, after all, most trauma patients don't remember what hurt them. He only knew what the reports and video of the event showed him, but he knew he shouldn't be a live any more, and that he's only this lucky since his sister had been watching his operation through a servo-skull.

Javert makes a mental note to buy her a new one sometime.

New arms, new skull, plates implanted under his skin...even a second heart had been implanted to keep him alive. He felt better than ever, but he didn't feel like himself any longer.

Javert grabs his bag and looks out of the craft before stepping off lightly. He takes off the Comedy Mask that he'd been using as a face since the incident, revealing his scarred visage, always smiling slightly, to the others and Malfi. Javert had come home, and he wasn't going to hide himself away, regardless of his Inquisitor's order.

Stepping into the new light, Javert is revealed as tall, lean, and well-muscled man with dark eyes and darker hair. His face is riddled with dozens of fresh scars, but even that doesn't stop his slight smile. He wears two weapons openly, Pride on his right hip, and the powerstake on his left thigh. He moves with a fluidity that most people can hardly hope to achieve, seemingly completely at peace.

He gives a brief pause and takes a deep breath of familiar air before letting it out. "It's good to be home, isn't it, sister?" Javert asks of her, wondering that maybe here, he could begin to feel like himself once more.

[Destro_Yersul]

The Magos Arcan Paratus was slower to disembark than most. When he did, he moved out from within the interor of the lander with all the grace of a bulldozer, though perhaps a tank would be the more appropriate metaphor. The Magos possessed an unparalleled collection of personal weaponry, all of which he habitually carried on his person. It was no coincidence that the Magos also had only the most tenuous grasp on the concept of 'overkill.'

He clanked down the loading ramp, servos whining with every step, augmetic eyes staring unblinkingly out from under the red hood of his Mechanicus robe. Most of Arcan's flesh had been replaced over the years he had lived, and he was more machine than man, now. Only his mind remained unaltered. Arcan had foregone the Rite of Pure Thought, reasoning that it would remove one of the most precious things the Magos possessed: his ability to be creative. For most mechanicus, such a thing would be seen as a detriment. For Magos Paratus, it was of the utmost importance.

After all, without creativity, how was he to meld technology and advance the cause of humanity?

"I hope this Magister knows what he is talking about. It would be a great setback to have such a promising lead dry up." The small flock of servo-skulls that habitually followed the Magos around bobbed up and down in agreement with his statement. Arcan twitched a mechadendrite in their direction, and the skulls subsided. There were four of them, equipped for a variety of tasks. Two had an assortment of tools hanging beneath them, tiny manipulators poised for repair and reconstruction. Of the others, one carried a vox, it's eye sockets replaced by a pair of tuning dials, and the second an unlit lumen-globe, clasped in steel claws beneath its head.

[Artemis97]

"Anxiety?" Drusilla asks, laughing a bit. She reaches out to touch the inquisitor on the arm, a sign that she was not laughing at him. It was, perhaps, a gesture of affection as well. "No, no. Quite the contrary. I cannot wait to begin." Any thoughts of fear or danger had been pushed out her mind by the idea of the vast wealth of knowledge that awaited for them. However foul the Magister may be, it did not worry her. Drusilla simply would not take no for an answer.

The adept smiled at her brother when he approaches, but it was a faltering thing. It hurt her so much to see him this way. Still, she could tell his smile was genuine, and her own returned in a moment. "It is." Drusilla agrees, "I wonder how much it has changed since we were last here. I wonder if anyone will remember us, and how our old allies are doing." Power shifts were common on Malfi. They could be doing much better than they were before, or they could all taken a wrong turn in a bad part of the hive, never to have been heard from again.

[M@XWeru]

It was with the turning of gears and the dry grind of pistons that Adelbert Hugo, Inquisitorial Telekine psyker walked down the ramp, behind the rest with his scarred face locked in a grim - almost sour - expression, his sunken, baggy eyes darting every which way. He purposely lagged behind even the machine priest, scanning the area with his eyes and his mind both, for he had learned to expect treachery at every turn. "Filth", he muttered to himself, "corruption and filth in all directions." You didn't need to be a psyker to know that one - they were on Malfi, after all, and the comment was one of displeasure rather than a warning of danger. It wouldn't hurt to start looking out for it early, though. The sealed suit of power armour - rare and expensive, embellished with gold and platinum - that encased his body didn't provide Adelbert with any sense of security; it was as much protection as a sheet of paper against the might of the Empyrean. Only eternal vigilance would protect him and his companions from that. Grim, silent and minimalistic, the psyker offered a striking contrast to the flair, the dress and the intimidating array of weapons displayed by the others.

"Indeed." He shot the tech-priest a dry remark. "And I hope he speaks quickly. My patience with haggling and word-twisting scum is especially short today, and I'll certainly not hesitate in ripping-" Adelbert bit his tongue. Had he finished that sentence, he might as well have hovered along the street for how much of a secret his psyker powers would have been. What's worse, the comment had bordered on insubordination, suggesting that he would mind scan their lead of his own accord. Serving under a new Inquisitor had its difficulties; Adelbert hadn't yet failed to obey an order, but - at least in his own eyes - there had been some close calls. Perhaps true cooperation would come easier to him in time, as he adapted to this new and young Inquisitor. The steady beat of the psyker's synthetic lungs did not betray his agitation, but he grit his teeth as he continued on, humourlessly and with a suspicious eye on the dark corners of the landing.

[Kiranvonstrom]

With a mechanical hiss, the door of the datacrypt opens, and a hunched figure shuffles out, slowly putting one foot in fromt of another. Its gait is stuttering, uneven, like there's a wire in it that's come loose. Step, step, pause, step.

As the figure comes closer, that metaphor proves even more acurate. The hunched 'man' isn't a man at all, but rather a servitor, apparently made from slimmer parts than most. It certainly isn't the equal of Drusilla's custom made Simulacra, though. Where the Janus-pattern could almost be mistaken for a human, it would take copius amounts of amasec for the datacrypt servitor to be mistaken for anything alive. Most of the original skull has been gutted, and replaced by a massive optical array dominating its face, and its hands have been surgically implanted with scribe-tines, the better to be used in what you would assume to be its duties.

A tube with a speaker mounted at the end emerges from the things mouth, like some grotesque parody of a toungue. There is a burst of static, then the almost thunderous sound of someone tapping on a vox transmitter. A tinny, agitated voice pipes out of the tube, some of the sounds oddly distorted.

+Is this thing- Oh, excellent. I apologize for the delay. One of my scribes...+, a muffled noise, sounding a lot like 'filthy little ingrate' can be heard in the background, +...misfiled an important map, (He'll pay for it, of course) and someone had to go and get it+

The servitor remains completely still throughout the transmission. Eerie little creatures.

+I'm so sorry, where are my desicated little dead things people call manners? Liam Callidon, Magister archotechnos. I'd shake your hand, but...+ The servitor jerks up one of the scribe tines. It still doesn't look like a hand. Or particularly welcoming for that matter. +I suspect you don't want to. Do come in.+

The servitor remains still, although you're not really sure if it's waiting for you or simply taking awhile to get moving.

[Destro_Yersul]

The Magos looked down at the articulated steel he himself called his hands. "I do not suspect you would want to shake mine, either." His mechadendrites twitched as he adjusted his grip on the heavy autocannon he had brought along with him. The servo skulls clustered around him, away from the odd servitor, as the Magos lumbered towards the now-open door.

"I assume you know the purpose of this visit."

[Calimos]

"Thank you for accepting us Magister Callidon. I'll shake your hand when we meet in person. We have some pressing matters to attend to and I'm sure your expertise will be most enlightening", answered Inquisitor Reinhart.

Then he turned to his cadre and gestured to follow him inside the facility.

[Kiranvonstrom]

+I most certainly do.+ it says to the magos.
The servitor (and attendant vox-link) pause for a second.
+Just head in, this servitor will be awhile. Another one will show you to the office.+ The servitor begins a slow turn back toward the door. It was clearly not made with speed and agility in mind.

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The inside of the facility is somewhat more cramped than most administratorum facilities, lacking any form of vaulted cieling, banks of desks or overhead cherubim carrying piles of books. There is no space wasted here, the room is more stacked books than it is room.

The temperature is best described as cold. It isn't a chilling cold, or even a particularly noticable one. It's more of an absence of heat. It's also dry as a bone in here, probably for preservation purposes. Preservation of the books, of course. People, it seems, are less important.

The stacks of books, reaching from floor to ceiling, stretch out far into the distance, with only the distant forms of a couple of scriveners shuffling between the stacks of books.

Another servitor lurches into view from behind one of the stacks, jesturing, such as it's capable of doing, to follow it.

OOC
To avoid boring the metaphorical pants off you, I shall assume you follow it to Callidon's office. You can certainly discuss things with servitor/Callidon while you go, but, in the intrest of keeping the game moving, it would be great if you could do so in spoilers.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

After a brief (although it certainly seemed far longer) walk, you have finally arrived at the office. Servitors, most of the time, do not make for lively conversation*, and, regardless of the conversation, it still feels like talking to a wall, albeit a wall that can speak.

The door opens as soon as the servitor reaches a complete stop, and a short, fat man dressed in administratorum robes bounds out. He is, of course, preceded by the smell. The reports really weren't kidding about the halitosis.

"It's good to see you all at last. For all their other benefits, a servitor's eyesight leaves something to be desired," The man grins, revealing an impressively decayed set of teeth.

*This depends on who you are asking.

[Calimos]

Good Lord, thought Reinhart. I've met daemons with less foul a breath. Alas, our line of duty comes with sacrifices, even those regarding tolerating poor hygiene. I only feel sorry about my poor adept, Drusilla. Ladies should never have to endure that, his thoughts continue for some more seconds as he approached the Magister.

An Inquisitor of course, representing one of the most dreaded and shrouded Imperial Institutions, should not flinch before such a regrettably strong stench, no matter if his potential speaker is its source. Thus Marcus forced himself to slightly smile and proceeded to shake Magister Callidon's hand.

"Well met Magister. Your reputation as an excellent scholar in matters obscure precedes you, I must say. These here are my companions. I trust - from our communications - that you have critical information on a matter of utmost importance to the Imperium's efforts and more precisely, to my special efforts in safeguarding it from the multitude of its enemies. Am I correct?"

[Destro_Yersul]

The Magos moved through the rooms as carefully as was possible for a being of his size, chattering in Binary at the servitors along the way. For once, he wasn't looking for any specific information, just a general idea of what there was to be found here, aside from what they were looking for.

When they finally reached the Magister, Arcan was silent while the Inquisitor introduced them, aside from a small click as his olfactory sensors deactivated. The Magos didn't need to breathe: lack of smell was a luxury he could afford, in this case.

"The advantage with a servitor's eyesight is that it will last much longer than a normal man's, and that it can be fixed if it breaks," he pointed out, light reflecting off the blue lenses of his own augmetic eyes. "Though of course, discussion of the benefits of augmetics are not the purpose of our visit. Tell me, Magister, what you know of what we seek."

[UncleWolf]

Javert can't help but smile a bit, the fake one turning into a real one, as he looks around, trying to find anything out of place, secretive, or perhaps even deadly. He stays silent, letting the others do the questions, as it wasn't his place to do so. With a slight pleasant sigh, he takes in the air of the place, halitosis and all, and lets it out, feeling warm in his core as the realization of being home finally settles in.

[Artemis97]

Drusilla was smiling. How long had it been since she had walked through a collection even a fraction of the size of this one? Too long, she decided. The cold did not bother the Adept. It was a familiar feeling, comforting in a way.

The lady is, however, a bit taken aback by the stench that surrounded the Magister. She struggles to keep a grimace of disgust off of her face and to maintain a pleasant visage. It would not do to offend their host, lest he throw them out before they gain the knowledge they seek.

"It is an honor and a pleasure to meet you as well, Magister." Drusilla says politely, if a bit breathlessly.

[Kiranvonstrom]

"Ah, right down to buisiness, I guess. Oh, well. You might as well come in," Callidon says. He jestures for you to follow his lead into the office.

The office isn't too different from the rest of the datacrypt, in that it is almost entirely covered in books. There is, however, enough room for you to stand comfortably, or, if you feel like it, sit. There are a couple of rather austere chairs in the room, apparently placed there in the hope anyone to be there that long. Callidon makes his way to the small desk and sits.

Once the door is closed, he begins to speak. "The Hyades Locks have always been something of an enigma, even to me. I have, however, heard of them, and maybe found a couple of things others haven't," He smiles, doing his best not to reveal his teeth, apparently out of concern for you.

"References to them exist, but they are few, and far between. What we do know is this; the Hyades were creatures from the days before dark age of technology, supposedly supernatural beings of quote great and terrible beauty unquote. Originally there were nine, but then, with such ancient rescources, who can be sure?"

"The locks themselves are far more recent, dating back to the dark age of technology, unless, of course, they were the creations of some-" Callidon abruptly cuts off as the lights flicker off for a second.

"That's not supposed to happen," He says, frowning.

Inquisitor Reinhart, Javert
Wait. Waitwaitwaitwaitwait. Was that a boltgun you just heard?

[UncleWolf]

Javert hears the boltgun clicking and instantly springs to action, attempting to tackle their host to the ground to protect him. The man might be smelly, but he was their only source of information on the subject yet, and so, was indispensable. The assassin doesn't say anything, expecting his teammates to be able to pick up on what's going on.

[Artemis97]

Drusilla had alighted herself on one of the chairs in the office and was listening intently to the Magister's tale. She was about to ask what the problem was when her brother vaulted over the desk and tackled their host.

"Javert!?" The adept shrieks, surprised and momentarily confused. Why would he have done that? Something must be wrong. In the next moment Drusilla was up from her chair, moving towards Ignotus who was standing at the back of the room. The servitor was carrying her weapons, after all.

[Destro_Yersul]

"Archeotech. These must be found and-" The Magos was cut off by Javert's lunge, a disarticulated mechanical noise issuing from his vox. He brought himself up to his full height, bionic parts clicking around as the optical mechadendrite fixed to one shoulder swept in a circle, searching for anything that might have caused the assassin to act thusly.

The servo skulls, perhaps attuned to their master's thoughts, shifted and bobbed in an agitated manner, beginning a slow circuit of the room.

[M@XWeru]

The magister's collection of ancient tomes and scriptures did not fail to impress the otherwise stoic psyker, who felt a pang of sadness over the fact that he could not simply stay here and delve into the untold amounts of interesting knowledge that they held. Even weathering the magister's putrid odours would be worth it, Hugo decided as he strained to mentally block out the smell while he walked with the others past the stacks of writings. The office itself looked just the way the psyker had expected it to, and he took care not to topple anything as he navigated the room in his power armour.

Adelbert didn't reach much to the lights winking out - they were most likely old and malfunctioning, though he felt a twinge of suspicion at the magister's words. The psyker didn't have the time to so much as turn around before Javert flung himself onto their host, but once he did turn he began to scan all exits for hints of movement, and extended his awareness onto the psychic plane in search of disturbances.

[Calimos]

Archeotech then...Blessed Lord on the Golden Throne of Terra. Such a discovery could very well put a serious dent in the Archenemy's efforts in their sector. Imagine the power, the knowledge, the potential of unlocking such a secret. All those thoughts hovered in Inquisitor Reinhart's head, as he listened carefully to Magister Callidon. And suddenly those thoughts came to an abrupt end, overriden by something else, something that literally torn his attention from Magister with utmost urgency.

Years of hunting heretics, daemons and the corrupt humans who summon them, years of uncovering cults and other recidivist cells, years of putting his life in the line for the benefit of the Imperium had instilled within Inquisitor Reinhart a sixth sense for danger, the Emperor's blessed alarm as he was heard to call it in more relaxed times.

Upon hearing the distinct sound of a bolt weapon, he spun around, mentally noting the excellent course of action taken by Javert, who was as usually faster than an uncoiling viper, drew his bolt pistol and Castigator and calmly relayed a command via his micro bead.

"Ambush. Full Alert. Take cover and form protective perimeter".

[Kiranvonstrom]

"What in the-" Callidon splutters as Javert tackles him. The man flails around a bit, trying to get the assassin off of him, but years spent in a library do not create especially strong people.

Outside the door, you can hear the throaty roar of a boltgun firing, and the sound of something slumping up against the outside wall of the office. The servitor, you guess.

Someone knocks on the door.

"Magister Callidon, if you come out now, you will not be harmed. If you decide to stay in there...well, we can't be responsible for what happens," Whoever-it-is-out-there calls out.

[Destro_Yersul]

If the Magos could have smiled, he would have. Instead, the techpriest turned to face the door, the long barrel of his autocannon swinging up to cover it. Mechadendrites twitching, Arcan clicked in binary to his servo skulls. The little floating servitor-constructs darted down from where they had been hovering, huddling behind his massive bulk.

"The Magister is not taking visitors today. Identify yourselves," the Magos told the door, knowing his voice would carry past it easily. After all, he didn't want to shoot them without knowing whether or not he could simply intimidate them first, and with any luck they'd mistake his clearly mechanical voice for that of a servitor.

[Artemis97]

Drusilla digs out her revolver from the pack Ignotus was carrying and makes certain to put the servitor between herself and the door. It, by virtue of being largely mechanical, was armored. Drusilla, who had not expected a conflict today, was not.

Always seeking to gain more information, the adept closes her eyes for a brief moment, reciting a word of power inside her head. With a thought Drusilla reaches her mind out beyond the door, trying to sense who might be out there, or, at the very least, how many.

Once she can determine a number, she will report it to the others, quietly.

[UncleWolf]

Javert stays silent, holding a finger to his lips to tell their host to do the same. Without a word, he stands up smoothly, drawing the powerstake and Pride from their sheathes. He'll head towards the door, out of the firing lines set up by his comrades, and will blend into the shadows, getting ready to ambush whoever survives the initial volley. It was doubtful that whoever had the bolter was alone, and to be able to use such a weapon, would prove to be more than a little armored against like weapons. His bet was a small team, maybe three or four individuals, with carapace armor.

Javert allows himself a slight smirk, contemplating how people had always assumed the art of death was better suited to the gun than the sword. He considered the...unenlightened to be poorer for never understanding how personal murder was.

[Calimos]

Inquisitor Reinhart stays put for the time being, taking a position of relative cover, overlooking the door and waiting for any response from the unknown assailants that would give any hint of their identification or purpose.

Throne of Terra....I hate it when things go south right from the start...oh well, no rest for the wicked, as his mentor Kul Harkness used to say, with a mischievous smile, back when Marcus was an Interrogator.

[M@XWeru]

Adelbert positioned himself right next to the group's servitor, relaxing his stance and focusing on the door and what might lie beyond it. If he were fortunate, the attacker would be a weak-minded goon, his will easily crushed by the psyker's overwhelming presence. If the psyker were not so lucky, the attacker would be cut to pieces by the rest of the inquisitor's retinue. Adelbert did not smile, but frowned even deeper than usual as he prepared himself to launch a psychic assault.

OOC:

Will be using 'Dominate', unfettered, on whoever opens the door, forcing the enemy to drop his weapons and drop to his belly.

[Kiranvonstrom]

There is some silence outside the door, seemingly as the speaker considers his actions, or perhaps reports the location of the magister. Who knows?

Drusillla

You reach out with your psychic abilities, searching for traces of life outside the room. (And doing your best to ignore the pulsating almost-living thing in your brother's hand, but that's more of a detail.) Outside is a team of five people, encircling the door.

Beyond that, you can just make out a couple of similarly-sized groups of people all around the level, seemingly searching for something. It's like the Malfi hunter-ants* you saw in your youth, so small...yet so methodical. There are a couple of stragglers...wait, no, those were scriveners. The past tense was certainly appropriate.

*A common Malfian pest, noted for preying primarily on other insects and hunting in packs.

Javert (Only)

"Well, master. It's good to see you still need someone's help," Pride whispers into your mind. If a weapon could smirk...

[UncleWolf]

Javert (Only)

The Daemonsword will hear his mental chuckle as Javert opens up his senses once more. There will always be a use for you.

[Artemis97]

"There are five outside the door." Drusilla reports in a whisper. "And more groups are searching the rest of this level, killing the scriveners as they go." The Adept might have said 'destroying' but she had a bit of a soft spot for servitors, particularly those which worked in archives like this one.

The Lady also leans close to Ignotus, whispering an order to the servitor. "Ready your gun, Ignotus. Be prepared to defend the team and the magister."

Providing the servitor processes the command properly, It will draw a hellpistol from inside of its coat.

[Destro_Yersul]

The Magos shifted his grasp on his gun, deciding to try and add to his little ruse. "Message repeats. The Magister is not taking visitors today. Identify yourselves. Your visit will be scheduled for the next available slot." The whole time, the barrel of the autocannon remained pointed resolutely at the door.

[Calimos]

"Five individuals outside, you say? And more exterminating the personnel of the facility? That is quite serious. Stay alert. If they don't try to break in, we might need to proceed with the necessary extraction of Magister from the facility".

[Kiranvonstrom]

"Okay, then," The voice on the other side of the door says. Someone opens the door, doing their best to protect themselves from any guns that might be on the 'servitor'. Such protection, of course, does not extend to psyhic powers and daemon weapons, though, and is of only marginal help when confronted with an autocannon.

OOC

Shoot him with your powers! Shoot him to death and several steps beyond!

Ahem.

The man appears to be an imperial storm trooper in red and black carapace armor, with what appears to be a sliver 'I' decal on the shoulder plate. He holds a slim, long-barrelled boltgun in one hand, and a grenade, apparently ready to throw, in his hand. (The pin isn't out yet, but it is well on its way.) His face is hidden behind a respirator.

The other four, or what you can see of them at the least, appear similarly dressed and armed, and are sighting down the barrel of their weapons at you.

More OOC:

Initiative, maps, overwatch from the Storm Troopes Etc. will be posted on the OOC.

Javert (Only)

"I'm touched," The daemon replies sarcastically.

[Artemis97]

In an instant Drusilla recognized that her gun was useless against that armor, but she had other means of attacking. Other, perhaps more beneficial means. This man must have some importance, being assigned to lead the squad searching for the Magister himself. One wonders what he could tell them. However, dead men tell no tales. This one would have to be taken alive, if possible.

The Adept again reaches her mind out, drawing on her sorcerous knowledge, shaping the energies of the warp and directing them towards the first man, and more particularly, his nervous system.

[Calimos]

"Stay alert and cover me" relayed Marcus via his microbead and proceeded, in an attempt to dismantle the situation without unnecessary losses of blood, limbs and lives. After all, the I on their shoulderpads could very well indicate their affiliation to the Holy Ordos, and he wouldn't interfere with a colleague's plan if he could help it. He stepped forth, his rossette in hand and issued a command with his strong voice, radiating authority.

"Inquisitorial Stormtroopers stand down, in the name of the Emperor. I am Inquisitor Marcus Reinhart of the Ordo Malleus and by the authority bestowed upon me by the Lords of Ordo Malleus and the Inquisition, I command you to cease immediatelly all hostilities and explain your presence here".

[Destro_Yersul]

Looming in the doorway, his autocannon pointed quite squarely at the leader's chest, the Magos spoke. "I suggest you follow the Inquisitors' Orders. That smoke grenade you have there will not do much to stop my autocannon at this range." Over his shoulder, the pilot light of the hand flamer twisted to point at the Stormtroopers, closely followed by the muzzle of the meltagun mounted to his other shoulder. "I will not fire if you stand down."

do believe this calls for an intimidate test. [roll0]

that would be a resounding success. 2 degrees worth, plus an extra one for having a bigger gun than them. With SB 5, I should affect the whole group, too.

[Kiranvonstrom]

OOC:
...Accursed ISP...

"Er...Yes, sir," the stormtrooper stammers. No matter how much training you have, there is little that can prepare you for a cooly detached magos with an autocannon trained at you. "Put the guns down, boys,"

The stormtroopers seem to be taking the shock of walking in on a full inquisitorial retinue in stride, forming up into a loose (although admittedly distant from the magos) order behind the sergeant, even throwing a textbook-perfect salute or two into the mix.

"We are here to apprrehend the heretic Liam Callidon, by order of Inquisitor Alicia Kalt, of the Ordo Hereticus. If you would be so kind as to step aside before he tries anything and allow us to take him in for interrogation and termination, that would be great," The leader says.

Callidon can't help but stutter from the floor, "What in the God-Emperor's name?"

OOC:

Puritans! The plot thins...

Ahem.

[Destro_Yersul]

A note of mild amusement entered the Magos' mechanical voice. How he managed it was anyone's guess, but Arcan was at least not quite so detached he couldn't find something funny.

"Correct me if I am wrong. Is Magister Callidon not already in Inquisitorial Custody?"

The Magos lowered his weapons as he spoke, the flamer mechadendrite subsiding behind his back, to be replaced by chattering servo skulls, which were happy enough to rise back into view now that the guns were being put away. It was probably a little intimidating, how easily the Magos handled a weapon more commonly requiring a tank, or at least a tripod, to mount.

[Kiranvonstrom]

The Stormtrooper makes a valiant effort to recouperate his dignity, and somehow manages to pull it off, for a given value of pull-it-off, of course. Needless to say, not having a small armory pointed at you is something of a tonic for the nerves.

"Yes...However, Inquisitor Kalt still needs to have him interrogated, then disposed of. As it is, perhaps we should take him into custody, say, out of the facility, and work out jurisdiction later?"

Javert

"Oh, Let's just kill him already! He's boooring!" Pride pouts. "He's not worthy of our attention,"

[Artemis97]

"I do believe we require him to be inside this facility, for our purposes." Drusilla points out in a cool tone. "We also need him to be alive." She adds, a slight smirk crossing her lips.

What would this man do? Stick to the orders he was given? Try to find a compromise? Would he choose to fail in the task given to him by Inquisitor Kalt? Or would he dare to deny Inquisitor Reinhart while standing right in front of him?

Of course... if they did eventually have to turn the Magister over, the Adept would make certain she had first pick of the collection he left behind.

[Destro_Yersul]

"Quite. Inquisitor Kalt is not the only one seeking information from Magister Callidon." The Magos twitched his manipulator mechadendrite at a bookself, the claws on its end clamping down over a large (and durable looking) book. "Information is a valuable currency. There is some I would like from you. What are the charges being laid against the Magister? Specifically. Heresy is a very broad subject."

Arcan chattered a command in binary at one of his pet skulls, and the tiny hovering servitor clicked back a reply. It would be recording the stormtrooper's reply, for reference of course.

[Calimos]

Inquisitor Reinhart delayed his answer, observing the reactions of the stormtroopers and the expertly presented answers of his trusted retinue members. Arcan's argument was indeed quite valid and he mentally congratulated him for his acumen and adaptability. There was no need for a bunch of soldiers even ones trained so expertly as those before them, to gain any insight on their own dealings with Callidon. Personally he was expecting another colleague to seek out Callidon, but the reason behind it had surprised him. The Magister was a living depository of knowledge and an asset Inquisitor Reinhart was not willing to relinquish just yet, and certainly not an individual who had already planned his execution for heresy. Of course if he was later found guilty of heresy, so be it, yet even heretics possessed things of interest at times.

He rubbed his chin a bit, smiled slyly to the stormtrooper and his eyes took a darker shade as he fixated him with a glare that could stare down a denizen of the Warp.

"Alright. You may have your orders stormtroopers, but my presence here supercedes any other imperial authority and I seriously doubt the fact that the esteemed colleague, lady Alicia Kalt has lended you her rosette. Being a servant of the Golden Throne, it is my sacred duty to proceed with the so called heretic's questioning right here and now as I had planned, before your interference, so that no valuable information are lost, for as you know, accidents tend to happen during prisoner transfers. This is a risk I am not willing to take. In any case, my agents here have already asked crucial questions which I think it would be good for you to answer so that we know what my colleague has found on this man and proceed accordingly".

[Kiranvonstrom]

The stormtrooper is silent for a second. "We'll just stand guard outside the door, and take him into custody when you have finished,"

He closes the door before you can respond, seemingly missing your question about the exact count of heresy.

[Destro_Yersul]

"Interesting." The Magos clicked and whirred a few times, his servo skull shutting down its recording. The optical mechadendrite mounted to his shoulder extended, tracking in a circle to peer with tiny cameras at the Magister.

"Best speak quickly, Magister. These ones do not seem the patient sort." Then, Arcan began scanning the comm frequencies in local use, looking for the one the stormtroopers were using. It was, he felt, a fair assumption that they would have something like that.

[M@XWeru]

Adelbert, who had simply regarded the stormtroopers with a severe expression and his hand on the proverbial trigger, turned to his Inquisitor and sent him a mental query. "Will we really let them have the adept?" he projected at Reinhart, still with a grim look on his face. "It seems like such a waste." The psyker had been more than ready to blast the encroaching soldiers into oblivion even after seeing their Inquisitorial marks, and he still was. Infighting was also a waste, of course, but Adelbert would rather take the waste from which his own group stood to gain the most. Of course, it would be up to the Inquisitor in the end.

[Artemis97]

"I do not like our odds, sir." Drusilla decides. "If they want to take him by force, we are outnumbered. Even now, they may be regrouping for a full out assault." The Adept did not trust that those serving a Puritan like Inquisitor Kalt would not hesitate to attack them, if so ordered. "Though... if we feign searching for a particular tome... we may be able to thin them out enough to lose them and escape with the Magister. Of course... that would leave them behind to sack the library." it was an unpleasant thought for the lady. All of those books, all of that knowledge, left behind to be purged by some overzealous Puritan. Was that loss really worth saving one man's life?

[Calimos]

As his trusted agents expressed their thoughts, Inquisitor Reinhart calmly set up a small privacy field, strong enough to keep any discussions and information disclosed, to this room and for their ears only.

"I don't intend to deliver Magister Callidon to my dear colleague's vultures Adelbert, at least not yet", he answered mentally to his esteemed primaris psyker, before continuing, this time with verbal communication for all to listen.

"Now this is quite a strange situation we've found ourselves into, don't you think Magister? Would it cross your mind why an Inquisitor is accusing you of heresy? It could be helpful - but no matter - time is of the essence and we have to extract certain information from you - so to speak. Even if we devise a break out plan from this facility, I still need to know all that you can tell me on the Hyades Locks. I came here for this information and no mere setback will deny it from me. Now if you know of any secret ways in or out of your office it's the time to reveal them, otherwise, please keep going with the information on the Locks.

And everyone, great reaction and excellent improvisation. The look on their face while staring down the barrel of your autocannon was priceless Arcan. You'll give people a heart attack some day, merely by staring on it".

[UncleWolf]

Javert listens and watches quietly before frowning from his hiding spot. "No." He whispers just loudly enough for everyone to hear him. "We need to kill them, before they kill us. They're executing personnel outside this room. They mean to kill all witnesses. Us included. They will simply be regrouping and getting heavier weapons to the fore. They believe they have the numbers to take us, even with the autocannon. They'll have reported our position already. Invite the squad in, and tear them asunder."

"We cannot afford to wait." Javert says firmly, believing every bit to be true.

[Kiranvonstrom]

The magister raises himself to his feet and dusts off his (rather tattered) robes. He holds up a single finger, as though asking you to wait for a second, and opens up the top of the desk. It would appear to be hinged, so as to offer a concealed chamber underneath.

"Warp and damnation," he swears, "They're destroying the servitors. It looks like we're blind outside of here,"

His head snaps up to face you, and he's suddenly all buisiness. You can almost here the cogs turning in that round head...

"The Hyades Locks are...difficult. All we know are from a couple of archaic documents translated into modern gothic, mentioning them as 'great locks to the portals through which all shall pass to endless sleep, held fast by ages and secured by the key', and 'Songs that the Hyades shall sing / where flap the tatters of the king,' They are, in all likelyhood, located on more than one world in the Calixis sector, the only one we truely know of being somewhere in the heart of the Golgenna Reach. That is all that the empirical 'we' know,"

Callidon smiles, "I, however, am not one of the empirical 'we'. In the Propheticum Hereticus Tenebrae, a document I am sure you know of, there is a reference made to a 'key once held by the herald'. This, I believe, refers to the key to the locks. This is all stuff certain other radicals in the Inquisition know about, although I only got word of their knowledge from a secondhand source, so it probably isn't accurate,"

"There is one thing I happen to know nobody else has found, because I only discovered it by accident, and made sure the source that gave me it was silenced. One of the locks was discovered here, on Malfi, as I was told you already knew. What you probably didn't know is who found it,"

"The lock was discovered by a cult, beneath the mannor in which they held their ceremonies," he looks at Javert and Drusilla, "Your father found the lock,"

Javert

"The fools could never hope to take us on. You, a skilled assasin and duelist, me, the finest weapon my master ever produced," Pride says smugly.

[Destro_Yersul]

Javert listens and watches quietly before frowning from his hiding spot. "No." He whispers just loudly enough for everyone to hear him. "We need to kill them, before they kill us. They're executing personnel outside this room. They mean to kill all witnesses. Us included. They will simply be regrouping and getting heavier weapons to the fore. They believe they have the numbers to take us, even with the autocannon. They'll have reported our position already. Invite the squad in, and tear them asunder."

"We cannot afford to wait." Javert says firmly, believing every bit to be true.

"On what do you base this? Unless you can hear them speaking, they have given no indication they intend to kill us. Yet." The Magos rotated the optical mechadendrite back around, looking for a crack in the doorframe to fit a small probe through. Then, at least, they'd be able to see what was happening outside.

In the meantime, his servo skulls had clustered around the Magister, recording his words in their data cores in case anything needed to be referenced later. The Magos could destroy any incriminating data easily enough once it was no longer needed. Until then, it would be nice to have something to refer to in case of the Magister's death or capture.

It would be even nicer if he could hear over the stormtrooper's comm network. They would need to be avoided or dealt with. Perhaps Javert could quietly see to them. For all his assumptions, the man was good at killing.

[Artemis97]

"Is that so?" A wicked smile forms on the lips of the lady. "Then it seems we are destined to inherit it."

As the question of what the soldiers were doing on the other side of the door comes up, Drusilla says "I can look again, keep an eye on their movements, if you like?"

[UncleWolf]

"You understand machines to a level I cannot comprehend, Magos." Javert says with utmost respect. "But it is my duty to understand murder and death. We are an unexpected roadbump, one that they can clear with permission of their local commander. Our intentions here will be analyzed, and when they realize we have no intention of letting them get our host, they will acquire him by force. Conflicts of Interest are common after all." He explains before turning to Dru. "Our brother would have it. And he won't give it up without force. I do not expect him to be pleased with our hands in the deaths of Mother and Father. He is Lord of Olearius now, is he not?" He asks their host.

Pride Only

I may be "proud", but I am no fool to think I can take all of these interlopers on without some planning.

[Kiranvonstrom]

Javert (Only)

The daemon laughs, echoing in your mind until long after it ends. "I shouldn't have pushed my luck. Or your nerve,"

Magos Patarus (only)


+Have located Magister. Co-ordinates 4-7-13, B, Throne rampant+

+Understood. Have you encountered resistance+

+Only expected, sir+

+Teams are converging on your position. Is target 12 present?+

+Yes, sir+

[Destro_Yersul]

"There will be no need for that." The Magos reached for his autocannon again, lowering the volume on his mechanical voice and switching his microbead back to the team's encrypted channel.

+Incorrect, Shadow. Roadbump expected, gathering storm. Strike before the lightning+

The cipher the Magos used was a simple one, common to the group. The stormtroopers had been expecting to find them here and, armed with that information, the Magos was assured of what Javert had already believed. They should kill the stormtroopers now, before they had a chance to get reinforcements.

[Calimos]

Inquisitor Reinhart heard carefully Magister's information on the Hyades Locks. It would seem that the Olearius family had a distinct talent for such discoveries. After all Drusilla and Javert had inherited their competency from somewhere. Things were bound to get more interesting.

Upon hearing Arcan's last relay on the secure cadre channel, he nodded, his face grim and determined but with a shade of sadness deep in his eyes. Imperium was beset by enemies on all sides. It was always with regret that he ordered the extermination of loyal subjects of the Emperor, that were misled and posed obstacles to his mission. It was necessary though and once again, the end justified the means. He trusted his agent's assessing of the situation, they were not trigger happy maniacs or frenzied redemptionists, he left that lot to other colleagues. Cold, calculating, ruthlessly efficient. That could describe his agents best.

"Acknowledged. Protect the Source. Strike fast. Eliminate hounds. Extraction pattern initiated", he responded.

Magister Callidon was to be protected. Stormtroopers were to be eliminated to the last. Quick run to the surface and relocation to safe ground was to be made as soon as possible. Inquisitor Reinhart disengaged the privacy field, drew both Castigator and his Mauler and took cover behind the desk, aiming at the door.

"Let's do this".

[Destro_Yersul]

Arcan brought the autocannon up to cover the door once again, cycling the mechanism and muttering in binary at the weapon to placate its machine spirit. The stormtroopers would get a solid hosing down of fully-automatic shells the second it was opened.

OOC:
going into overwatch again.

[M@XWeru]

Adelbert nodded at the Inquisitor and turned back to the door, stepping aside just enough so that the others would have a clear field of fire. The psyker had given up on attempting any sort of finesse and would settle for blasting the storm troopers into tiny little pieces.

OOC:
Will be using Force Barrage, spreading the bolts out evenly among the soldiers.

[Kiranvonstrom]

Callidon smiles, "There is also more than one lock. And I happen to know a way to find all of them. This is, of course, pending getting me out of the facility in one piece. If I'm dead, well, then no need to worry too much about it. Think of it as insurance. I've dealt enough with your kind to know I need it,"

He pulls a large plasma pistol out from somewhere in his desk. "Shall we take a crack at getting out alive?"

Everything is still for what seems like hours, although your chronometers believe it to be more in the order of thirty seconds.

Then someone kicks in the door, following it very closely with a smoke grenade.

Everyone/OOC

Resolve your overwatch/psyker powers of doom, then we can roll inintiative and start the fight.

Go!

[Destro_Yersul]

The Magos' autocannon roared to life as the door flew open, spraying bullets into the corridor. At this range, a hit was almost gauranteed, and the carapace the stormtroopers were wearing wasn't likely to do much to stop the high explosive rounds.

"I believe," The Magos said, turning the volume on his augmetic vox to high, "that I told you to stand down."

[roll0] Let's see if I get any hits, and if so, how many.

Looks like four hits, assuming that standing in front of the door when they kick it in counts as point blank. Damage OOC.

[Kiranvonstrom]

If the Inquisition ever had a rule number one, exept 'Trust No-one' and 'Innoncence Proves Nothing', it would be 'Never Enter A Room Of People With More Training And Bigger Guns If You Want To Live'. Apparently, the stormtroopers missed that message.

Pity for them, really.

The poor man with the job of opening the door gets hit full in the face by a psychic tornado of force, augmented by the Magos's solid wall of bullets. It is, on the other hand, only one man, the others seeming to have taken up a more sensible position out of your line of fire


OOC:


Stormtrooper 1:
Attrmpts to dodge one of the inbound autocannon shots, for all the good it will do him:
[roll0]

Well. Look at that. He's pretty darn dead, I should think. Off-hand, I'd say we could feasibly apply every critical effect for impact hits... :smallamused:

And everyone else's initiative:
Stormtroopers:
[roll1]

Please note it was only one guy opening the door, everyone else in the squad seems conspicuously absent.

[Destro_Yersul]

Thrown to the ground with a horrible metallic crash by the psychic force unleashed by Adelbert, the Magos, slowly pushed himself back to his feet, assisted by his mechadendrites. His servo skulls bobbed in a circle around him, chattering in binary while the venerable techpriest regained his footing.

With a mechanical whirring sound, Arcan passed his autocannon up to the manipulator mechadendrite, metal jaws closing cerefully around the weapon's handle. Then, the Magos drew his auspex from within his robe, whispering the litany of the machine as he powered the device up and began to scan for human lifesigns.

[roll0] vs 70.

[Kiranvonstrom]

Magos Patarus

A closely gathered group of dots shows on the auspex's screen at what you would assume to be both ends of the hall.



Javert (only)

"Were you watching that?" the Daemon sent the impression of a raised eyebrow, "I don't think your worries were all that well-founded,"

OOC
Initiative is:
Inquisitor Reinhart (13)
Javert (12)
Scab (12)
Stormtroopers (8)
Magos Patarus (8)
Drusilla-Still missing roll
Magister Callidon [roll0]

Feel free to post...

[Destro_Yersul]

The cluster of dots at this end had to be their group. The ones at the other end.. well, the troopers couldn't have gone far. They had limited time to move. "Move up. Lifesigns ahead."

The Magos held the auspex in one hand, stomping slowly forward. His other hand clicked and whirred, the arm expanding briefly to allow it to rotate out of sight on a pivot. In its place came the Magos' plasma pistol, a weapon he had installed as insurance. His other guns could be taken, or deactivated. This one wasn't likely to be found.

[Calimos]

"Alright. Let's move. Stay alert", said Inquisitor Reinhart moving alongside Arcan, with his bolt pistol and force sword drawn, ready to respond to any threat within a moment's notice.

[M@XWeru]

Adelbert nodded quietly and stomped on after the other two. Though his arms hung rather limply at his sides, his eyes darted back and forth inside the power armour's helmet, scanning the area for danger even as he prepared to crush the life out of anything that threatened the mission. The waste of psychic energy to kill only one man (and knock the feet from under the unfortunate tech-priest - who was none the less back up before the psyker could react) was an annoyance, albeit a minor one. He would have to avoid such failures in the future.

Just outside the door to the room, Adelbert stopped dead in his tracks, turning his senses in the direction opposite to the one his Inquisitor was moving. I will guard this chamber. He sent his thoughts out to all the other members of Reinhart's retinue. I would not hold it above these soldiers to attempt a diversion. With his sinewy old body, encased as it was in force fields and power armour, standing in the doorway it'd take one hell of a force to make it through. The Magos and the Inquisitor could take care of themselves.

[Artemis97]

"Foreward." Drusilla whispers to Ignotus. She follows the servitor through the doorway and after the Inquisitor and the Magos. The lady will call upon her powers to disrupt the nervous systems of any stormtrooper she sees. Ignotus should fire upon any unfriendlies he sees.

[Kiranvonstrom]

"Throne," the magister says, observing the destruction, "I hope you don't do this to every place you pass through,"

Slumped outside the door is what appears to be the remains of the servitor that brought you here, clearly irreprable.

As you continue down the hall, you pass by the corpses of the rest of the squad you had encountered earlier, apparently cut down by the Magos's autocannon fire, as well as a couple that seem to have had body parts blown off by psychic force. (The remains of the stormtrooper closest to the magos were not discenable amidst the nice new crimson paint scheme of the wall. make of this what you will.) Pity about that, really. But if they get in the way of your holy mission, there's really not much you can do. Right?

The Magister follows behind you, doing his best to keep the better-armored people in front of him. Of course, from his position at the back, you would assume everyone to be better armored.

"As to why they're after me, I haven't the faintest idea. Of course, you came here looking for knowledge forbidden by inquisitorial interdicition. Knowledge I happen to have. They call it forbidden for a reason, you know," the magister mimed a gun firing at his head.

Magos Patarus:

Auspex:


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" ` " by the way, is just open space. This improvised mapping doesn't work too well with the forum, but at the moment it's just a stopgap measure.

[Destro_Yersul]

"Only the ones where I get shot at." The Magos stomped slowly forward, the meltagun on his shoulder tracking back and forth. His cluster of servo skulls was hiding at the back near the Magister, buzzing softly as they hovered about. The little constructs were clearly wary of being out in front.

"Corridor splits to both sides ahead. Five stormtroopers at each end. Recommend extreme force and use of cover." Checking the range on the auspex carefully, the Magos edged up to the corner of the hall. Tough as he was, he wasn't about to go taking unnecessary risks where bolters were involved.

Standing right near the edge, the Magos' optical mechadendrite snaked around the corner. He wanted a good look at the opposition before he engaged, as well as a better estimate on how far away they were.

[UncleWolf]

"Take the left." Javert says before he hunches low, holding Pride and his powerstake firmly in his grip before darting off with unnatural speed, seeming to meld into the shadows with nary a sound as he charges and makes a right turn, taking advantage of all the cover possible.

With any luck, the next thing the group of Stormtroopers on the right should see, is a grinning madman dressed in black as he brings his two weapons to bear on leader of the squad, laughing like a fiend before spinning in a tight circle, trying to behead two others with Pride.

(Rolls will be in OOC)

[Calimos]

Inquisitor Reinhart nods and takes cover behind the left corner, aiming with his bolt pistol and awaiting for the rest of his cadre to be in position to engage - hopefully in a surprise attack - the stormtroopers there.

[Destro_Yersul]

The Magos' arm whirred, his plasma pistol rotating back into the arm to be replaced by a hand again. He snapped his hellgun off its magnetic 'holster', drawing the weapon around. Evidently, he felt that the plasma pistol's ammo was best conserved for harder targets. Drawing a bead on one of the stormtroopers to the right with the optical mechadendrite, the Magos took use of Javert's likely distraction to lean around the wall and take a potshot at the group.

[roll0] firing single shot. I believe that's a hit, with the bonus for aiming and the bonus for half-range.
[roll1] E, pen 7, on whoever looks like the leader of the group on the right.

[Kiranvonstrom]

The stormtroopers seem to have set up barricades of books in an impressively short amount of time. Pity it isn't likely to save them.

When Javert rushes out of the hall into the shadows, one of the stormtroopers rips off a shot at him, missing terribly.

"Relax, it was only a rat,"

"A rat?"

"Yeah, sure. It's a library. There are probably tons of rats here," *

"Yeah, I suppose you're- Holy saint in-" The stormtrooper's scream is cut short by his abrupt decapitation, followed by that of his friend's. A third is saved from death only narrowly, instead catching the daemon weapon at the side of the head. On the other hand, though, he does seem to be still standing. Points for tenacity.

The magos seems to be having slightly less luck, catching one of the stormtroopers with a lasbolt.

Javert (Only)

Honestly, I don't get your fear of these people. They're an insult to our dignity. As a weapon of great and terrible power and his wielder, I'd say we deserve something more interesing. Not that I mind a meal, of course,"

* He is, by the way, completely wrong. No archivist worth his quill would let a rat into their library. But then, the stormtroopers don't need to be geniuses. The Emperor requires only that you act. He never said effectively.

OOC:

No obvious rank insignia, sorry, Destro.

[Destro_Yersul]

OOC:
Whoever has the most skulls on their armour, then. :smalltongue:

"EXTERMINATE" The Magos roared, his augmetic voice cranked up to full volume. Javert would easily be able to butcher the team on the left, of that he was confident. The ones on the right were left to him and the others, and it seemed that overkill was the order of the day. The hellgun spat bolts of lasfire at the stormtroopers as the Magos depressed the trigger, keeping plenty of wall between himself and return fire.

Assuming that was a surprise round, and we are now going in initiative order. Here's more shooting! Semi-auto this time.

[roll0]
[roll1]

and a couple more, in case of degrees of success:
[roll2]
[roll3]

2 hits, I think, on the same guy I already shot. Let's bring him down, then focus on the others. Now would be an excellent time for some killyness, the rest of you!

[M@XWeru]

As the others advanced, laying low the hostile stormtroopers, Adelbert walked slowly behind them all, just in front of the adept. It would not do have the Magister succumb to a stray bullet or grenade, or to become the victim of some deception. Far be it from the psyker to underestimate Inquisitorial agents, no matter how seemingly incompetent they were.

[Calimos]

As his trusted agents unleashed their attacks, Inquisitor Reinhart prayed for absolution as he pressed the trigger of his bolt pistol. Sending Imperial servants - even misled ones - to an untimely death, always nagged him the wrong way. Yet the stakes were too high to afford being hesitant in such a crucial moment.

Aim and shoot: [roll0] vs 65 (BS 45+10 Aim+10 R.d.l.s)
Damage (if successful): [roll1] Tearing: [roll2]
Since I don't have my IH with me I'm not certain on the Mauler bolt pistol exact damage, so I used the profile for a normal bolt pistol.
Righteous fury! Reroll in the OOC.

[UncleWolf]

Javert had to give the stormtroopers some credit. At least, the one that survived. His hand flicks towards his neck, activating the cog shaped amulet that rests under his synskin suit. There's a crackle of energy as the shield comes to life, but even as the thing flickers into being, his blade snaps out once more, seeking the three living throats in front of him.


Half Action: Activate Amulet of Warding
Half Action: Lightning Attack

[Artemis97]

Drusilla directs her servitor to move around the corner and fire upon the troopers. The adept follows closely behind him, using Ignotus as a living shield. The servitor quickly squeezes off two rounds at their enemies While his mistress bellows a word of power. A crackling orb of blue-white energy appears in her hand and explodes into four bolts of lighting, arcing out towards the troopers.

[Kiranvonstrom]

OOC:

Your lazy and scatterbrained GM has finally posted. Rejoice, or, more rather, gripe as you may about my absence. I apologize.

Stormtroopers, it seems, are not the most competent of beasts. But then, we'll never know, as Javert tore the remaining three on his side apart before they could even get a single shot off against the homocidal maniac.

The other side of stormtroopers isn't faring much better, with the magos taking down the injured one in a storm of lasbolts and the Inquisitor catching another in the chest, doubling him over only to be hit by Ignotus.

Drusilla, however, seems to have had a bit less luck with the warp, however.

The three remaining stormtroopers who managed to acquire the presence of mind not to die hunker down behind their makeshift cover, and open fire on what may be the only open target- Javert.

Javert (Only)

The daemon laughs, echoing throughout your mind as you carve through stormtroopers, until, suddenly, midswing, it stops.

"Do you hear that?" it whispers.

OOC:

Stormtroopers:

[roll0] [roll1] X damage, 5 penetration plus whatever you roll for the amulet of warding. Left Leg.

[roll2] [roll3] X damage, 5 penetration plus whatever you roll for the amulet of warding. Right Leg.

[roll4] [roll5] X damage, 5 penetration plus whatever you roll for the amulet of warding. Body.

They appear to be firing on single shot now.
Oh, and that's three hits, the makeshift cover the stormtroopers set up (which I assume you are behind) counts as AP 4, so your soak is 10/12/11/13, I believe. (Cover and Pen factored in.) I assume you'd rather roll your dodge roll.