Kennet's Gambit: Cell Kappa [Dark Heresy]

[LeSwordfish]

Dark Heresy: Kennet's Gambit


Chapter One: Do Not Investigate

The message had been circulated to all your rooms a few minutes ago, by one of the freighter's hundred bustling stewards. Would the good Padre, the Madam Sororitas, the distinguished Commissar care to come to the communications deck? Madam Meredith requests an audience. I'm sorry, Magos, miss, er, Cat?, I have no other information. Just the message.

When you have joined the others in the communications room, a dark circle lit by the blue glow of dancing shapes on a hefty holodesk in the centre of the room, the messenger bids you politely goodbye, and leaves, instructing you to inform the steward once you are done. The placeholder shapes rotate once more, and then flicker, coruscate, and resolve into the shape of Inquisitor Meredith, revolving slowly.

"Cell Kappa" She says, and smiles. "Apologies for the time taken to send this message. Preparing a secure signal took quite some time. I assure you I had no intention of sending you off into the warp with no explanation or plan. Events, as always, transpire as they will."

Meredith's image shrinks and reduces, to be replaced by that of a planet, wreathed in a tracery of high cirrostratus.

"This is your target, the planet of Ventus Commercia, colloquially known as "Tradewind". A minor agri-world, with a few unusual features. Located near to an anomaly in warp-space, meaning transmission and transit are unusually smooth. As such, it's home to a network of orbital stations dedicated to refuelling and repair of starships, and the College of Gilead, a major astropathic relay, capable of shooting a message across the whole subsector. Otherwise though, largely insignificant. Farming, mining, and so on. Small population, only major tithe fuel for the orbitals."

The planet disappears, and a man replaces it. The image is fuzzy but recognisable as an action shot, perhaps caught by a security pict-caster. The man is sallow, with blond hair pulled back from his face, a pair of large glare-glasses, and a set of starched administratum robes. He is skeletally thin, with a narrow skull sharply stretching his face, and hands like spiders. The shot is of him striding forward, holding a long-barrelled pistol.

"You probably know this man. Alric Kennet, freelance mercenary and cult facilitator. Responsible for several of the most high-profile acts of heresy across the subsector in the last thirty standard years.. Known employers include the Pilgrims of Hayte, Marco Ferris the xenotech smuggler, and the cult of the Pale Prophet. I won't bore you with the details- I've attached his file to your data slates- but suffice to say he's a damn intelligent man. The Ordo's been after him for decades, and we've never so much as felt his collar."

"Last attempt was two years ago. A group of three inquisitors cornered him aboard the Lineage Of Victris. None of them, or him, were ever seen again. We never really expected he was dead, of course, and now it appears he's re-emerged. Sighted aboard a ship headed for Tradewind. Our best efforts have brought up no further evidence, and the rumour is still unconfirmed."

"So that's your secondary task. Keep your eyes peeled for Kennet. He's most likely causing havoc a subsector away, but the rumour of his presence on the planet below adds... interest... to the incident you'll be investigating as your primary task. And frankly-" here a pause, a small sigh- "-its too damn interesting already."

OOC

Here we go. A pause here to avoid too much text at once, and let the PC's get a word in edgeways.

Cell Kappa OOC (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?p=13415352)

File/0336321/hereticus/Kennet



++ Kennet, Alric ++

++ Clearance required: Veridian ++

Alric Baren Kennet grew up the son of a planetary governor, on the hive world of Albion's Wake. At an early age he was identified as a savant of extraordinary ability, and schooled at the famous Schola Progenia Taura. Schola reports have him as a model student, but rumours dogged his time there, including the death of a teacher and the theft of several tomes from the scholam's restricted library.
Upon leaving the Schola, Kennet fell into the company of powerful influences. Few records exist of his whereabouts for the next ten years, but it is believed that it is around this time that he began his facilitator work. Certainly several companies in competition to his father's shipping interests collapsed over this period. The next record of Kennet's location was ten years after his graduation, back on his home world of Skell's World. Kennet was caught on camera raiding an imperial faculty, and would not have been recognised but for one of his scholam tutors being seconded to the investigation into the incident.
From then on, Kennet has rarely left the interest of the inquisition. His Facilitator work became considerably more radical soon after, working directly for anti-imperial influences such as the Pilgrims of Hayte, Marco Ferris, and the cult of the Pale Prophet. Kennet's influence on each group usually marks a definite increase in their activity and efficiency, and it is believed that, amongst other successful attacks, Kennet has been personally responsible for the opening of two warp portals and the manifestation of one major Daemon. All three events lead to the enaction of Exterminatus on their source planets.
Kennet has evaded inquisitorial sanction for nearly a century now. The most recent attempt to capture him is particularly notable: a ordo hereticus coalition of Inquisitors Solomon, Verence, and Bach and their retinues tracked Kennet to a place on the Lineage of Victris, a rogue trader vessel. Their final transmission reported a confirmed sighting and preparations for an imminent attack. Thirty minutes later an automated message from the Lineage Of Victris reported a catastrophic failure of its Geller field whilst entering warp. The ship, the three Inquisitors, and Kennet were never seen again.*Kennet is not believed dead and should still be regarded as active.

Kennet himself is only an average physical combatant, with reasonable sword and rifle skills, and no known psychic abilities. His mind and senses are extremely sharp though, and he is a skilled speaker. He is also extremely wealthy, and usually carries multiple Xenotech devices, often including a personal shield.

File/1249677/planetaria/Tradewind



++ "Ventus Commercia" aka "Tradewind" ++

Note: Data does not include Tradewind orbital stations. For data on Tradewind Orbital Stations, reference file 64/29/2887/130/Ca/TO

Reference number: 1249677/ca/3419
Population: 2.88x10^7


++ Military and Governance ++
Aestimare: X136
Imperial Fleet Presence: Minimal
Governor's capital: Gilead Palaces
Planetary Garrisons: None permanent.
Imperial Garrison Strength: n/a
Planetary Draft: n/a
Prefix Inquisitoria: Of Interest


++Production++
Tithe Grade: Exactis Minima
Chief Exports: Banedax Ore, Foodstuffs


++Additional Information++

The planet of Tradewind, a small, largely watery world near the center of the Calixis Subsector, was colonised some time during M38, and remains in much the same state as it was originally, with a population of less than thirty million.

Geographically, it consists of two large continents surrounded by ocean. The northern continent is heavily mountainous, with glaciers at high latitude and altitude, large areas of tundra and coniferous forest on mountain slopes and, along the southernmost coast, meadows and moors. The human population largely lives on this continent, with fifty percent in the capital city, thirty per cent spread amongst the other cities and agricultural land along the coast, and ten per cent living in farms and industrial sites in the mountains. Most of these farms keep livestock, with porcine and bovine xenoforms being popular.

The remaining ten percent of the population lives on the southernmost, equatorial continent. This continent is almost entirely desert and brushland, and human activity there tends toward mining for the small reserves of minerals and promethium found underground.

Tradewind has an indigenous population of bipedal xenoforms living in the forests on the northern continent, known for their green skin as the greenmen. Rumours that this population are mutated humans left over from a failed previous colonisation event have been investigated by teams from the Ordo Xenos, though results were not published. The indigens propensity for raiding attacks on imperial centers, using primitive weapons and armour but large numbers have caused segmentum command to assign a regiment of imperial guard to Tradewind to augment the PDF in protecting important locations. This posting is considered something of a joke by segmentum command, and "Posted to Tradewind" or "Doing the Greenman shift" has become a euphemism amongst guardsmen for dull or easy duties.

Tradewind's main notable features are due to its position near to a minor fold in warp-space. This makes it an extremely popular location for ships to refuel and repair, and much of its economy depends on the host of orbital stations servicing this trade. In addition, the astropathic relay known as the College of Gilead is based on Tradewind. The College is notable for having one of the largest ranges and powers of any astropathic relay, and as a hub of further education on matters of the warp and psykers. Its library, in particular, is one of the most extensive in private hands within the subsector.

Tradewind's orbital period is approximately twice that of earth, and days there last approximately thirteen hours. As such, citizens use a two-day sleep/wake cycle.

[Godur]

Ethine had only been meditating when the summons came, and was quick to answer; arriving to the communications chamber only minutes later. Now she stand still, almost at attention, and says nothing as she listens to Meredith's briefing, keeping her weapons leaned against the nearby wall.

Dressed in simple and unassuming gray robes, kept tied to her body with a wide belt, from which several smaller bags are hanging. Over her shoulders a dark blue coat has been draped. Long blonde hair, which for once is not tied up, hang loosely down her back.

[Madcrafter]

Ferrus took a minute or two to finish up the micro-bead he was building before setting off towards the communications deck. Lumbering in, he stands and waits while the others arrive. He keeps half his attention on the image of the inquisitor, while scanning over the documents on his data slate.

He is dressed, as always, in the crimson robes of his order, with the hood shadowing his face and respirator. He is of average height, and somewhat portly in a way that only one with a torso covered in machinery can be. The sinuous metallic arm emanating from his back hangs over his shoulder, grasping the data slate on which most of his attention is focused.

[Aneurin]

Cat

Even after two years outside a hive, large spaces still made her feel agorophobic; which is why when the stewards eventually tracked her down, Cat was in the labyrinthine engine tract of the the freighter Munificent Blessing. A place she could explore the arcane mysteries of the ship, so different to the static hive; almost a living, breathing creature.

The woman who arrives on the communications deck a short while later is a typical product of the Underhive. Her hair looks like someone just attacked it with a knife, and sticks up in odd raggedy tufts and it's dyed lime green. Whatever her natural eye colour is, it's hidden behind a pair of amber lenses that mask her pupils so they look like her namesake's.

The left side of her face is covered with a swirling rose-patterned tattoo that stretches over both eyebrows. Although they're covered at the moment, a similar design covers her left arm and leg, while her right arm has her gang markers tattooed on it, denoting seniority, status and her notable accomplishments; a skull for each gang leader kill, a circle for each mutie, a five swords to denote her status as the gang leader's right-hand. Fifteen bullets, one for each year of her membership. On her right cheek is a pair of cat's eye; her call sign and identifier.

She's tough and rangey, and wears what looks like an old Imperial Guard overcoat, from one of the regiments drawn from less hospitable planets. It has more than a few laser burns and bloodstains - maybe enough to suggest the former owner didn't part with it willingly. Inside are stitched dozens of hidden pockets and knife sheathes. As a courtesy to the Inquisitor, almost all the sheathes are empty. Her hands are covered by gauntlets that match the coat, and conceal her most recent tattoos; a pair of Imperial Eagles on the inside of each wrist, that she added when he joined the Inquisition.


Throughout the briefing she watches in stony silence, waiting for the important details; who she had to kill and where they were.

[Urist]

"Thought for the day:It is better to die for the Emperor than to live for yourself."


Living as if already dead makes a man patient. John, who had always been a patient man, had become, in the interim, a man whose thoughts, while clear as the purest water ice, could, unless stirred to action by duty, proceed with the slowness of a glacier. Days could pass while John, although outwardly going through the motions of day to day life, would ponder a single saying by one of the Saints, slowly piecing together an understanding. He could go quicker, but what was the point? He had time.

He is thusly engaged when the message from Meredith arrives. In the span of a few seconds, his glacial thoughts experiencing a sudden phase shift, transmuting themselves into a rushing torrent of purpose and piety. As the steward leaves, his last sight of John is of the Commissar striding purposefully towards his trunk, and, reverently, pulling out a trio of holstered pistols.

Dressed in his Commissarial greatcoat and hat, John presents an imposing figure. Although not especially muscly or agile looking, John carries himself with a clear air of command. At around 6 feet, 4 inches in height, he is intimidating through sheer presence, towering over the average man. His Commisar's Greatcoat, well cut, reinforced black leather, is unornamented, a few slots where medals used to be pinned discolored. A golden skull, surrounded by a double-headed eagle, adorns the peak of his cap, the metallic sheen and ruby eyes the only hint of color in his garb. His black hair, cut regulation short, contrasts with his brilliantly blue eyes, lending his stare an intimidating intensity.

Arriving at the briefing room, he listens to Miranda respectfully, making the sign of the Aquilla as she appears, and at the mention of the Emperor. As he listens, his face steadily darkens, until his eyes can be seen only as small shards of ice-blue.


"This cell will capture this corrupted servant, and defend Tradewind at all costs in the name of Him-on-Earth,
, Inquisitor. When shall we be making our port of call?"

[LeSwordfish]

[I]

[B][CENTER][COLOR="blue"]"This cell will capture this corrupted servant, and defend Tradewind at all costs in the name of Him-on-Earth,, Inquisitor. When shall we be making our port of call?"

"Within a few hours, emperor willing. I've arranged a shuttle for you."

"To our main business. Two weeks ago I received a message from one Major Kyros, an old contact of mine, commanding officer of the Messina 6th, stationed on Tradewind. She reported that a squad of hers, stationed at a power relay shrine, had vanished, along with the shrine's tech-adepts. No contact from them, except a single vox-message. Text file, rather than sound. Message reads:"

"Do not investigate. Do not spread the word. In our memory do not investigate. They say it sounds like angels. Ignore them. Do not spread the word. Do not investigate."

"So. You see why Kyros was wary of sending a squad of her own men in to investigate. She sent me a message to ask for advice, and I recommended she stay put, while I sent a team to investigate for her. That is, of course, where you come in. By sheer luck, you were in the area, and we can strike while the iron is hot."

"So. Yes. Your primary task is to make planetfall, meet with Major Kyros, and render her whatever assistance possible. Investigate the disappearance of the squad and the tech-adepts. Help ensure the shrine remains running. Kyros is an ex-acolyte, so with her you can go for an open approach. She'll assist you however she can. I've arranged transport for you- a shuttle will take you from orbit to the regiment's current deployment at the Ben Amo's Gorge hydroelectric plant."

Meredith sighs again and looked rather embarrassedly frank. "To be honest, we don't know how this one will play out. It might be a rogue psyker, a disease, or the next black crusade climbing out of a manhole. Hopefully with the assistance of the 6th, you can handle anything large until the big guns arrive."

"I think that's all. I hope that's all. This link can't last forever, so if you need any extra details, ask quick."

[Voltaire]

Marius shuffled uncomfortably in place. He had been in the viewing room for some time, ever since the stewards had handed him the Inquisitor's message and he had marched over on the double quick, but he wondered if he'd even been noticed yet by the others. His curse, as well as his gift; he was a bit of an unremarkable man. The rest of the cell seemed so firm and unwavering as they listened to the Inquisitor's harrowing briefing, but one thought was running through his mind on repeat: They said to not investigate. Why? Why would they say to not investigate? Sounds like angels? Like angels?! Sounds like a world of ****, more like.

Further back in his mind, another dark thought bubbled away: Kennet. Kennet is here. Kennet is here. Kennet is here. Kennet is here. How many did he murder, the filthy dog? How many lives did he ruin? Fear gave way to a degree of anger, and Marius' face became stonier than usual. Subconsciously, his fists tightened into clumps of bone and tissue.

Then some poise and clarity returned. Inquisitor, if I may: what resources does the 6th Messina dispose of? Are they known as a disciplined unit? We could be investigating a disciplinary issue here - that text file is needlessly cryptic. Are there any files available on the squad that disappeared? Finally, has Major Kyros noted anything significant about the site of the disappearance itself?

[LeSwordfish]

"They're an infantry regiment, and by all accounts a highly disciplined one. No commisariat presence, but all reports suggest none is necessary. Kyros runs a tight ship. If it is a disciplinary issue, well, at least that's minor."

"As for the location, I questioned Kyros about its significance. She said if there was one, she didn't know of it, but that she would check the records."

[Madcrafter]

Ferrus looked up from his data slate at the mention of the main mission. "Interesting" was not a word one usually wanted to hear associated with such situations. When Meredith finishes answering Marius, he speaks up.

"Do we know for certain that those stationed at the shrine are dead or gone, or could they have just broken contact? As well, is the shrine still in operation?

[Miraqariftsky]

Thick, reinforced coat-tails hiss across the steel of the floor. A bulky shadow looms in from the corridor beyond the communications room's doors.

Guard-issue combat boots clack a respectful salute at the threshold, then stomp their way in. At each footfall, various odds and ends on the man's harness clink and thump, though muffled by the presently buttoned night-black Guardsman's coat. The only weapons openly worn are a gleaming chainsword scabbarded at the right hip and a customized, heavy-bodied Puritan pistol holstered at the left thigh.

A gauntleted left hand rests comfortably on the latter's butt, the arm bent with almost languid ease. On the other side, the right sleeve hangs oddly empty.

A brass Aquila swings from a crimson cord about his neck. Beside it hang two shotgun shells, one clad in red and the other clad in blue plastek. A ritual human skull, secure in its reliquary, glares at everybody from his abdomen to which it is strapped.

The oddly incongruent grin on the brutally scarred face twitches into a brief grunting frown as the lone hand reaches up to adjust the straining straps of a couple of heavy kitbags. The blazing flourescent lamps cast their brightness upon every scar and crevice of a burn-and-shrapnel marked face.

Beady eyes glance about the room as he looks upon his fellow Acolytes, the Aquila seeming to wave at them from the tattooed pinions about his shaven head. The Scarlet Slasher. The Minister of Machines and Men. The Golden Spook. Hmm... looks like the Sister's still playing with her pretty pistol? Ah... and =you=. Fatherly fingers rise in benediction at his fellow servants of the Emperor and again when the transmission from Inquisitor Meredith comes in.

Padre Kaliwete... or more formally, Confessor Infernis, leans against a wall and listens in silence to the briefing, the grin slowly turning into a scowl. His scrag beard twitches as he says, "That is, brother John... if the Firefather wills it so. We will bring the Emperor's fire and steel upon this... RAT... if our paths cross. Good point, Brother Ferrus. Inquisitor... the Sixth presumably has flamers and demo-squads, just in case? The 'big guns' you'd mentioned, ma'am, they artillery or Naval? I presume as well that we are to avoid... collateral damage... how much will be 'too much'--- how tainted does the facility, or Firefather forbid, the entire place, need to be that we can have clearance to... =cleanse=?"

Almost as an afterthought, he asks, "Any other... people... of note, tha' we should be aware of, ma'am?"

[Urist]

John's scowl solidifies as the pastor enters, the old pain that the sight of his...injuries brings up sending shivers through his soul, shaking his resolve, his self confidence. He keeps this scowl as Miranda continues with the briefing.


"Well, the Commissariat, and the Inquisition, are coming to them. If any rats have been hiding in the shadows, we will cleanse them with the Emperor's fire! Better to burn a million healthy fields, then to let one contaminated one remain."

[LeSwordfish]

"Good point, Brother Ferrus. Inquisitor... the Sixth presumably has flamers and demo-squads, just in case? The 'big guns' you'd mentioned, ma'am, they artillery or Naval? I presume as well that we are to avoid... collateral damage... how much will be 'too much'--- how tainted does the facility, or Firefather forbid, the entire place, need to be that we can have clearance to... =cleanse=?"
"Any other... people... of note, tha' we should be aware of, ma'am?"

"I'll leave that up to your judgement. If neccessary, Kyros can provide you with the equipment."




"Do we know for certain that those stationed at the shrine are dead or gone, or could they have just broken contact? As well, is the shrine still in operation?

"When i spoke to Kyros, she said the shrine remained in operation. It's likely been running for a fortnight without maintenance however, so your special skills will be needed, Ferrus."

"As for the possibility of lost contact- well, if that's all it is, we should be thankful. Kyros is dead set against the possibility of desertion though, and i trust her tactical acumen."

[Voltaire]

Marius' eyes began to glaze over. There was a lot to ask - a great deal of information that could be useful in the conduct of this investigation, but he knew better than to press the Inquisitor any further. Inquisitors like Meredith were properly managerial; they delegated the nitty-gritty to their staffs, in the pursuit of operational and strategic goals. It was likely that more questions would sooner elicit impatience than valuable intelligence.

So Marius waited, eyes facing forward, but no longer really watching the interaction. It would be over quickly enough, and then they'd set off into the unknown, once again.

There was enough time to entertain a silly thought: the further he found himself from the intimately banal, such as battling property crime, the more he wondered why he had taken every opportunity to move still further away. Rogue psykers? Diseases? Kennet? There was a dull throbbing just behind his eyes.

[LeSwordfish]

Meredith turned to look at the group, making eye contact with each, one after another. "Any further questions?"

OOC
Unless there's anything else, we can jump straight ahead to planetfall.

[Miraqariftsky]

"Duly noted, Ma'am Meredith." Again, that twitching half-grin-half-sneer pulls at the corner of the Confessor's mouth. In lieu of the standard two-handed Sign of the Aquila, he thumbs his palm and then spreads his fingers before the brass icon on the crimson cord.

In a flash of black leather and black iron, he draws a veritable battleaxe of a pistol--- double-barreled in an over-and-under configuration, the gun above seeming like the lovechild of a Tranter and a Hecuter, the gun below a single-barreled rattara shotgun married to the aforementioned abomination of an autopistol. The body and grip are fat and formidabable to handle the fat-cal rounds and their considerable kick. A pair of purity seals are wrapped about near the muzzle and beneath them, glinting in knife-etching, are the words "Purge the Unclean".

Despite the weight of his kitbags, Iohannes Infernis, Confessor and criminal, stands straight, at attention, presenting his armament--- a simple piece of steel, chrome, powder, bone and leather... and yet symbolic of his honour, life and soul. The Gunmetallican grates out, "By fire and faith, by iron and blood, by the will of Him on Terra, we will bring the Emperor's light upon the sump-dark of this mystery. The Emperor protects. The Emperor punishes.", oath and curse and blessing in one breath, at the end of which, he lets his hand fall to his side, heavy pistol swinging comfortably.

The lip-twitch returns. "You said we leave for the shuttle in a couple of hours, Ma'am?"

[Urist]

="Blue"]
"Orders acknowledged, Inquisitor. The Emperor's Fury will descend upon any who have, through desertion, heresy, or traffic with the unclean, has attscked the integrity of His world of Tradewind."

With a flourish, John draws, reloads, and holsters both of his dueling pistols within a few seconds. Both are near- identical copies of the other, highly ornamented, long barreled weapons modeled after flintlock pistols of antiquity. Walnut handles and furniture compliment the matte-black barrels, etched with elegant circuitry. A golden Aquilla caps the butt of each pistol, surrounded on each by an etched seal. On the one holstered on his right hip, the words Long live Fane Khayer-Addin", while the left reads "Awarded to Richard Khayer-Addin for outstanding service."

With a final salute, John about faces, and returns to his room to pray.

[LeSwordfish]

The transit from warp space runs as smoothly as ever, with only the slight juddering indicating that the bounds from reality to the empyrean had been crossed. From any window, Tradewind is now visible, as a pinpoint ahead of you, that grows visibly over the next few hours into a great ball of brilliant Azure seas and white clouds turning slowly that fills the viewports and slides over the lip of the observation deck like a sunrise.

When you assemble in the hangar, a constant buzz of activity fills the room. Hundreds of people and servitors are flocking in all directions, across the main floor and dozens of gantries, prepping shuttles, hauling cargo lifters, and doing various technological things that Ferrus understands instinctively and completely pass over the others heads.

Your shuttle is a grimy, olive-green arvus lighter, with a pack of adepts flitting around it nervously. No-one suspects you're with the inquisition, but everyone knows you represent some or other high authority, and since you boarded the ship everyone has been nervous of you.

Onboard the arvus, the pilot gives you a nod of welcome, and returns to the vox to continue with his preflight check as you settle into the seats.

"Rocitors?"
"Check"
"Hydrals?"
"Check"
"Did the left gear get fixed properly?"
"I looked it over, it's good."
"You sure?"
"It's fine, Thufvesson. Leave it."
"Alright. If you're sure. Passengers are here, we are prepped for takeoff."
"Roger. Clearing the bay now."

A siren sounds, and the bustling crew begin to head to the exits. There's no sense of urgency, even though the large airlock doors are already closing- with practiced ease, they swing themselves through. The main doors open, and the arvus lifts off and begins accelerating forward, swinging vertiginiously downward around the hull of the ship, and headed for the planet below.

"Evening, folks." the pilot says, speaking to you directly for the first time. He's a rotund man, who looks to have wedged himself into the seat, and his accent is strong but unplaceable. "Should take us a few hours to reach the plant. We'll arrive mid-morning local time. Sit back, relax. I hope one of you brought cards or something because we ain't fitted with a vid-screen."

OOC
Again, giving you guys a chance to post and breaking up a large body of text. Unless you have something specific to roleplay, i'll jump to the planetfall.

[Miraqariftsky]

The Padre Kaliwete, with his flock, arrives at the arvus' airlock
A swift stowage of luggage, safety harnesses fastened
The Puritan remains in his hand, still,
The role of a director's baton it does fill
Waving up and down, a martial beat
Deep, unexpectedly rich voice rises and resounds
While rhythm's tapped by ironshod feet
On clanging floor
From face to nervous face his scarred gaze so bounds
Leading the cramped throng
Singing a common psalm of void-faring
And the Emperor's protecting,
"The vast void aetherial
Mysterious, eternal
Legends walk and daemons roam
Beyond black firmament's dome
The Allfather's light blazes
Daemons' fortresses razes
O Most High and Holy Emperor
We see your light and feel your fire
Keep us safe from the void and the vacuum
We ask Thee, to keep hot our blood
And we'll keep hot the pyre
That on the unclean
Your holy doom
Shall flood!"
On, and on he sings
Again and again, holy words
In manic growlin' grin repeating
Burning away the shadows of fear
Stoking the fires of faith with zealous cheer
The Confessor Infernis only lets his tongue rest
When the inferno of atmospheric entry does his voice best.

[Voltaire]

The seats were utilitarian and uncomfortable, but Marius was well acquainted with Imperial austerity. He tried to make the best of it, and only intermittently shifted around to get the most out of his. Some people - and he knew this to be true - could make it through atmospheric entry asleep. This was never the case for Marius, whose grip on the arms of the seat tightened as the arvus accelerated a fraction.

Did he have his equipment in order? Check.

Was his las charged? Check.

Was there time to go and find something, if it wasn't in his bags already? Negative.

Was there a point to worrying about it? Negative.

Well, then, settle in, lawman, it's gonna' be a bumpy ride.

Marius sighed and started at the back of the seat ahead. Cards? Shut up, pilot. Just shut up. Shut your mouth.

[Aneurin]

Within moments of the take-off - as soon as it's possible to move around without being catapulted across the passenger bay, Cat's making her way towards the pilot's chair, where she watches with acute interest and an interminable stream of questions about the functions of various controls and siplays in the lander.

Her list of questions is pretty routine; she asks them every time she's in any sort of non-civilian craft. It's the autophiliacs list of questions, from an obsessive who wants to be able to drive, or pilot, everything in the galaxy. The only reason she doesn't harrass starship captains and navigators is that the bridges are generally sealed.

"How do you compnesate for atmospheric resistance with only Theran-pattern Mark Three buffers? Is that the autogyro stabilisation circuit? Is this outfitted with the original Mars-pattern Mark Two nav-relay, or is it an upgraded version? How does the power-coupling cope with feedback from the heat-diffusion systems during re-entry?"

[Madcrafter]

Ferrus slouched comfortably in his seat, paying little attention to the others in the cabin. Entry was something he had learned to get used to long ago. He listened idly to Cat pester the pilot with questions, mentally answering most of them himself. He knew how to operate the ship in general terms, but Omnissiah save them all if he was forced to actually fly it.
Eventually growing bored of this, he takes out his new microbead and fiddles with it for the rest of the trip.

[LeSwordfish]

The pilot is happy to talk to Cat, seemingly pleased to have someone to talk shop with. "They may be only mark three, but we've got them running through triple-locked coolers, so we can shed heat like nobody's business." In fact, he almost seems too keen, and as the lighter drops through the atmosphere he trails off into a long discussion of interocitors, green-type sanctified oils, and a kind of damper that he glances back, sees Ferrus' mechanicus robes, and refuses to mention again, except for the odd comment along the lines of "Feel those vibrations? Half the amp of comparable models" as the lighter bullies its way through low-altitude air currents.

Eventually the lighter begins to fly with the terrain, instead of towards it. Low rolling hills rise into rock-strewn slopes, wide limestone pavements, and finally towering mountains. Steep-sided grey gorges crack the crags, with tall coniferous forests fuzzing the surface. The lighter slowly swings down into one of the wider, shallower gorges, sliding along almost blissfully at treetop level- here the pilot glances sideways at Cat, and gives a little nod that clearly says "Yeah. I'm that good." In some places rock rises to the surface, and the trees part, allowing you to see tall mammals canter away from the lighter's wake. A blue ribbon of river is visible

"This is the Letitia province." the pilot explains, as a brief diversion from techno-babble. "Farming mostly. Grazers, i think. Don't ask me."

He cranes his neck a little, and taps the nav-screen. "We're coming up on the dam, so if you want to see something impressive, come up front now." He swings the lighter up a shade, and begins bringing it around a wide curve. "Seriously. I flew in here before. It's really something."

And it is. As the lighter clears the a rocky outcrop, the dam comes into view. White concrete and dark metal completely cross the gorge, from one side to the other. A mechanicus symbol the height of a titan is painted on in peeling red, and banners easily wide enough to drape across an entire chimera flap languidly from the top. Up the western side of the mountain a patchwork of white buildings poke out from the trees, tangled pipes and conduits strewn between them. The uppermost one has a large satellite dish on the top, and the lowermost has a set of massive industrial doors leading out onto a wide clearing, in which several large tents are set up in neat military rows. The bottom of the dam itself has a pair of pipes, that at the moment are torrenting water down a concrete spillway and into the river.

The pilot nods appreciatively. "And." he says, with more than a little solemnity, "Our nav-relay is Ryza-pattern, not Mars. An original."

http://www.tourismnewsinfo.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/01/Hydroelectric-Dam-Hungry-Horse-Dam.jpgBut BIGGER and more grimdark.

The lighter drops you on the edge of the makeshift camp, in a patch of cleared ground over which rock-crete has been painstakingly laid. When the hatch is popped the air is crisp and clear, with a touch of frost on the wind, though the scents of over a hundred sweaty imperial guardsmen hit you quickly, with promethium fires, cooking meat, and pine trees in quick succession afterward as the wind gusts.

On the edge of the landing pad is a tall, dark-skinned woman, with sharp romanesque features and a slightly shabby major's greatcoat is waiting to greet you, with an honour guard of similar-looking troopers standing to various degrees of attention behind her. Coat flapping in the wind, she strides forward and extends a hand in greeting.

"Major Kyros. Messina 6th, at your service." A surprisingly broad smile. "I wasn't expecting you here so soon."

[Godur]

Ethine had remained relatively still in her seat throughout the planetfall, held firmly to her seat by the secure harness and showing no sign of even being awake as she meditated on the mission details; a serene expression on her face as the vessel descended. Be it the countless trips such as this one, or the conditioning imprinted on her mind it didn't matter. Regardless the case she was not bothered by the roar and trembling of atmospheric entry.

Not until the lighter stood securely on the landing platform did Ethine's eyes snap open, staring blankly ahead for a few good moments before she unfastened her harness and rose from the uncomfortable seat. Quickly grabbing her equipment she then step out of the vessel.

As she walk down the ramp Ethine let her eyes wander over the camp, scanning its movements, the soldiers and other things of note before finally letting them rest on Major Kyros. Hesitantly she extends her hand and shake the major's hand quickly. "Ethine" She says simply; indifferent in her tone of voice, before stepping back to let a more socially inclined member of the group speak instead of her.

[Urist]

On the trip down, John stays entirely silent, the only motion of his body the movement of his lips in silent prayer. His eyes gaze out the window, taking in the beauty of the world as seen from orbit.

"What a large thing a world seems. And yet, on the whole, this planet is but one of uncountable millions of the Imperium. So unimportant to the grand picture that the only response team sent from the outside is a group of five acolytes."

Lost in thought, the Commisar starts when the landing doors open, jerked out of his reverie, and contemplation of the immense structure upon which they have landed. Quickly unbuckling from his seat, John rises, dons his greatcoat and hat, and exits the transport, the rest of his gear stowed in a trunk which he places gently on the ground at the Major's approach. He snaps a razor sharp salute, the snap of his greatcoat and hand as his arm rises like a gunshot in the cold air.


"Well met in the name of Him-on-Earth, Major. The Inquisition always attempts to be punctual, as do I. I am Junior Commissar-Acolyte John Khayer-Addin, in the service of Inquisitor Meredith. Where might we talk in private, Major? I'm sure tour troopers are trustworthy, but some information should stay on a need-to-know basis."


Rolling Charm to increase the Major's disposition/generally charm her with John's charisma:smallbiggrin:.

[roll0] TN:50+10(Peer:Military)=60

[Miraqariftsky]

Eventually, the singing ceases. The scarred forehead creases as he tilts back a canteen of water to ease his coursed throat... and the Padre's eyes widen over the brim as the wondrous visage dawns across the arvus' viewports.

A quick matter to unbuckle his safety harnesses, purity seals fluttering from the Puritan's maw, empty right sleeve swinging freely in the breeze, Padre Kaliwete tromps down the landing ramp and thumbs his palm at the Major... after having holstered his Puritan with a frown. "Ave Imperator. Major Kyros. Confessor Infernis, in the Emperor's service... and wot the fancy hat means is, ya got a quieter, more enclosed space somewhere?"

Even as he speaks, the shadows and creases of glower and frown deepen, his eyes struggling to keep themselves to just their immediate surroundings of steel and stone--- the Guardsmen, the base, the dam. The sewers of Metallica, the corridors of the Drusus' Fist, the forge-fares of Magnagorsk... there had always been a comforting sort of closeness... now...

...bristling lips slowly pull back in a sneer similar to Cat's. Without his knowing, the Puritan was already in his hand. A corner of the lip twitches upward.

[Aneurin]

Cat

As soon as the lighter breaks in to the atmosphere, Cat takes a surreptitious step away from the view screen so that there's good, sensible plasteel between her and the sky, the way the Emperor intended man to live.

She nods and makes appreciative noises as the pilot explains the finer points of the Arvus' systems and specifications, although she makes an occasional "tch" of disapproval over the odd system she regards as sub-standard.


As the lighter touches down, she glances out the door and to her dismay - although not her surprise - discovers the landing pad to be entirely open to the sky. For once, could they not go on a mission to an Emperor-damn Hive, or at least some place with a decent ceiling. Oh, and there were a group of heavily armed men waiting for them.

Ganger instinct takes over; in a dangerous situation, be the most dangerous thing there. Never show fear or they'll eat you alive. She swaggers down the ramp, her flak jacket flapping open to reveal the bandoliers of throwing knives across her chest and the short-bladed swords at her side.

With a precise measure of respect, she nods in an insubordinate fashion to the major, and takes a long, cool, look at the assembled guardsmen, letting her lip turn up slightly into a casual sneer, then looks back at the major and says tersely; "Cat. Cell Kappa. Here to fix your problem,"

[Madcrafter]

Ferrus watches the dam as they make their final approach, marveling as always at the wonders of technology. To be able to pull such energy from a still body of water was a true feat.
As the arvus lands and the doors open, he extracts himself slowly from his seat and lumbers out after the others. His mechadendrite decides that it wants to be a pennon and flaps about haphazardly in the wind, before he tells it to behave itself. Marching up to the Major with the others, he introduces himself as only "Ferrus." before letting someone else do the speaking.

[Voltaire]

Marius saw the tall, uniformed woman approaching from some distance after the lighter touched down and the Cell had come out through the hatch, knew she was likely the Guard officer the Inquisitor had mentioned, but, for just a moment, he took no heed. His eyes danced about, taking in the surrounding area with an abiding hunger. He breathed in the wind, letting the aromas of Tradewind waft through his system. It was good to be on solid ground, once again. Marius wasn't afraid of traveling through the void, but there was something distinctly reassuring about having one's feet on untold billions of tonnes of rock.

Or whatever this planet is composed of.

Not even the intermittent stench of Guardsman sweat could detract from the cathartic experience of solidity and, in a way, 'homecoming'. Any planet was more like home than a transport barge...

The Major was now making the rounds with the rest of the Cell. When she finally reached Marius, he took her hand with a sure but respectfully relaxed grip, smiled thinly (and, in all probability, unconvincingly) and said, 'Much obliged, Major. Marius Muromets, at your service. You have a very pleasant world, here. It... it has an ambiance. A mise-en-scene, if you will. But I digress, and many apologies for that. When may we begin the briefing? I am sincerely eager to proceed with the investigation, and I am sure I speak on behalf of my esteemed colleagues in saying as much.'

[LeSwordfish]

Kyros nods politely at the group. "Of course. We have a.. A sort of situations room, that would be best. If you'd follow me?" she turns, and begins to lead you up the gentle slope towards the plant. With a lot of glances at each other and the group, particularly Cat and the Commissar, the command squad accompanies you.

The place is full of soldiers, marching in groups, or relaxing around promethium fires. The Messinan uniforms seem to be a sort of loose fatigues in a bottle green, and most soldiers are bearing a wire-stock las gun or lascarbine, along with a bronze shortsword or dagger. A few troopers carry meltaguns. The occasional small sandbagged emplacement includes an auto cannon, or heavy stubber. You've seen a thousand similar regiments in your time. Most of the soldiers salute at Kyros as she passes. Almost all of them salute the Commissar.

"I must say, we weren't told the commissariat would be here." Kyros comments, after seeing three troopers hide bottles of amasec behind their backs. "You seem to have put the troops on edge."


John and the Padre
Despite the numerous minor breaches of discipline- gambling, non-regulation hair, insufficiently maintained non-combat equipment,- there's a definite sense that this regiment is a effective unit. The hundred minor features that you can pick out -trigger discipline, well-maintained weaponry, correctly set up emplacements, general morale- imply that, although a commissariat representative would make these troopers cleaner, neater, an aesthetic credit to the god-emperor, and parade-ground standard, he'd likely find little to improve on their military effectiveness.

OOC: I'm presuming John is recognisable as a commissar, scarlet sash and all. The successful Charm result has left Kyros considerably more amenable than she was going to be.

The plant, when you reach it, is accessed by a pair of massive bulkheads that stand open to let the cooler air in, but inside its still stuffy and over-warm. Tangles of pipes, wires, and other ironwork stretch off for a good distance in all directions. A pair of troopers in the gantries above you call a challenge to Kyros, which she responds to, and allow you to pass, down a wide ramp, past a pair of parked groundcars, and into a massive cargo elevator. Here, a squadron of troopers is helping two red-robed servitors, the first mechanicus personnel you've seen, load prefabricated conduit sections. After a brief, muttered conversation with Kyros, the sargeant orders his squad out, and the elevator begins rising slowly through the faculty.

As one floor after another passes, you see the true scale of the faculty for the first time. The buildings on the outside are merely the tip of an iceberg, with cavernous rooms dug from the rock of the mountain. Most are given over to turbines larger than baneblades, in great matrices, with tech-adepts flitting between them like blood-insects. A few floors are covered with guardsman's bedrolls. One is given over to vehicles, but seems to be empty.

"All our chimeras are out at the remote faculties." Kyros explains. "The smaller groups need the manoeuvrability more."

As you climb, the buildings become neater and cleaner. Tiled mosaics replace brushed concrete, and red-robed magi replace the guardsmen in green. Eventually, you reach the top floor, and the mesh doors to the elevator open with a great whine.

The situations room is, in fact, a small conference room next to the main control centre of the dam. It has excellent views over the valley, but Kyros slams closed the blinds, and bullies the hololith into action. While it flickers on, she turns to her command squad.

"Bring Theodore and Emesdos in here, would you? Then guard the door. I don't want to be interrupted."

Theodore turns out to be a guardsman, short and squat, with a distinctly non-regulation beard, and an adjutants pips on his shoulder. Emesdos appears to be in command of the Mechanicus here, and is rake-thin and nearly seven feet tall, with heavy, drooping jowls and a network of mechandrites that hang limply down his back, and twitch occasionally into more comfortable positions, giving him the slight impression of a angel with the face of a bulldog.

Kyros gives the hololith a firm slap with her palm, and, admitting defeat, turns back to the group. "Right. Sorry. Never mind about that, then. This is Theodore, my aide, and Emesdos, the chief magos here. As of yet, they are the only people who know your purpose here."

"Though our ladies and gents will be able to guess." Theodore offers, extending a hand to shake. "Mysterious guests shortly after a mysterious event should set off alarm bells with most of them."

[Aneurin]

Cat

As she walks past the guardsmen with total confidence, Cat accepts the glances her way as her due. She's better than all of them; they've never had to survive in a world of mutants and criminal scum who would kill them - if they were lucky - without a second thought given a chance.

She shows a flicker of disappointment at the news there were no Chimeras - it would have been useful to have one. Plus there was something fun about driving a heavily armed APC, and even more fun in stealing one - although Meredith has her on a short leash when it came to stealing from Imperial organisations. She stifles a sigh of regret, while her serving the Inquisition is far more important than hunting mutants in an underhive, it's a lot less interesting.

As the group is ushered in to the conference room, her eyes flick around the room, assessing and dismissing most of it. Then she settles back to wait, and listen to the others talk. Or, she would if anyone were talking.

Reluctant though she is to break her tough-girl act, no-one else seems inclined to start the conversation and the silence is becoming awkward. At least, by her standards it is. She finds things too quiet if there's even a half-second in the conversation where someone isn't talking as loud and as fast as they can.

She ignores the extended hand - mostly because a handshake in her world is only used to seal bargains - and speaks in a detached and disinterested voice, concealing the impatience and unease she feels at the break in the conversation with practised ease.

"Our purpose here is to fix your problem. No reason they can't know that, is there? But in order to fix it, we need to know where to go and what you know about the problem,"

[LeSwordfish]

"They've probably worked that out." Theodore said. "But i imagine you'd prefer that the true nature of your employers was kept a bit more discrete?"

"The problem." Kyros cuts across him. "We don't know much more than what we passed on to the lady inquisitor. Theodore can drive you out to the shrine. Emesdos, you..."

Emesdos cuts across her before she can continue, in a slightly metallic monochrome. "The shrine contains a standard-pattern Liraxus modulator, a Ryza-pattern grade three transformer battery, and the standard equipment that approaches that. This equipment is designed for maintenance on a bi-weekly basis by a team of not less than three mechanicus operatives. The equipment has missed multiple maintenaces and so is likely running beyond capacity. You must utilise the data-slate i will give you to release excess power as a matter of extreme urgency."

"And ten guardsmen." Kyros adds, rather brusquely. "I'd like to know what's happened to them."

"Mostly, though, i'm holding this meeting to allow you to ask any specific questions."

[Aneurin]

Cat

She twitches her shoulders in something that might be interpreted as a shrug at Theodore's words. It isn't really her concern what anyone knows or doesn't know.

Cat listens to Emesdos and Kyros, then nods abruptly.

"We go in, we release the power and we find the guardsmen," she confirms. "Tell me. What do you think happened here? Do you think the guard deserted, or do you think they were attacked?"

[Godur]

Ethine stood silently as she listened to the conversation, blankly looking ahead or at the person speaking at any given time. Leaning her back against hte wall she doesn't do anything else until the ten guardsmen are mentioned. "Where exactly were the guardsmen located when the disappeared, and why? Ths information might be useful for locating them."

[Madcrafter]

Ferrus stands uncomfortably as he lets the more socially inclined of the group do the talking. Or Cat at least. He perks up as Emesdos begins speaking, paying rapt attention. This looks like his part of the job, and as Emesdos had explained it, it seems simple enough. At the mention of mechanicus operatives, he asks "How many mechenicus personnel were at the station when communication was lost?"

[Voltaire]

Marius' found himself leaning on one foot, then another, as the Q&A session opened up. This investigation had 'bad news' written all over it. But, as always, given the opportunity to look into any abyss, Marius would peer gleefully. It was his sad lot in life: to hear a gut instinct loud and clear, and to ignore it completely. He couldn't help the sigh.

'Colleagues, there doesn't seem to be a great deal of point to extending the questioning any further. The longer we stay here asking questions, the colder the crime scene gets. The Major has probably given us every sliver of information she had, and for that - ' Marius nods in the Major's direction '- we are most appreciative. It is time, surely, to head over to the facility. I am certain the Major has a dataslate with all relevant information that we should be privy to.'

[LeSwordfish]

"The only possible explanation for this is that the military personell killed the mechanicus representatives and deserted." Emestos begins. Kyros shoots him a warning look.

"I know my men." Kyros explained. "A whole squad of soldiers deserting, from a non-combat situation? Ridiculous."

"Negative, merely improbable, and when all..."

"In answer to your other questions." Theodore steps in, smoothly, with the air of someone who has broken up this argument multiple times before, "We can't be sure. Ten guardsmen, likely half on-duty around the shrine and half off-duty inside it. Four mechanicus personnel, and two servitors."

"This slate has got maps of the area and the compound." Kyros says, passing a data-slate to you. "In addition to the past two month's transmissions to and from the shrine. If there's no other information you need, Theodore can take you out immediately."

[Miraqariftsky]

The Confessor follows close on the Commissar's heels
A nod, a wave, a pat, a smile, he leaves
Fellowship with men of fire and steel he feels
Each Guardsman, a blessing receives

The scowl returns, at the door's closing
Theodore's hand receives a frown and a scarred smirk
The Puritan shrugs as he gives his ear to listening to the briefing
Bristling beard twitches for growing zeal just 'neath the surface does lurk

~~

The Puritan's sight taps against the stubborn holoprojector. "Forgive me for speaking of the twist-rat in the room, so to speak... but what of... worse case scenarios? This generator--- what happens if the power isn't released... or if it has been tampered with? Do we have the names of these Guardsmen who were on duty there? Suppose they had been attacked and had holed up, would they trust better some stranger's voice ordering them to stand down and get back to base, or someone who calls out to them by their names, in the name of the Emperor, of course?"

Confessor Infernis raises his hand slowly and holsters the Puritan in a gesture of pre-emptive placation before proceeding, "And suppose the entire shrine's been compromised... Do y'all have a quick way of... purging it?"

[LeSwordfish]

"Not as of yet. Should we prepare a team in case?" Kyros and theodore looked at each other.

"I'll prepare a demo team and mount them up ready to send out when you give the word." Kyros suggests.

[Miraqariftsky]

"Very good, then" grunts the scarred steel-son. "Better to have a hand on the holster than not being ready in case the sump-rats roil, eh?"

[LeSwordfish]

"If there's nothing else, you can set off straight away." Kyros says firmly, attaching the two dataslates together and passing them to you. "Keep me updated on your progress. The truck will be fitted with a vox-caster."

Theodore steps forward politely. "I'll take you from here." He leads you back towards the elevator. Behind you, Kyros takes the opportunity to give you one last evaluating look, and then turns away.

Thanks to some quirk of the planets rotation, the sun is setting as Theodore helps you pile into a grimy cargo-4 truck, and starts to bully it up the slope away from the dam, travelling roughly south-east. low branches rustle against the canvas top of the truck, and occasionally a pinecone or large, grey seedpod cracks under the wheels.

OOC
+10 Awareness tests all round, please.

The journey takes nearly two hours, and when you arrive the sun has fallen fully. The truck's headlights sweep across a chain-link fence, behind which low buildings, standard-issue habdomes, next to a network of transformers stand. A pair of massive pylons bracket the shrine, currently almost silhouetted against the swirls of stars and orbitals above. The lights and power in the shrine appear to be off.

Any hopes of a simple explanation are dashed as Theodore pulls up. The gate of the faculty is closed, and locked, but a ten-meter length of the fence next to it has been pulled down and pressed deep into the mud by some massive force.

"Well." Theodore mutters. "Here we are."

OOC
Sorry for taking so long to update. It's pretty shoddy of me to ask you guys to post more and then be so slow myself, so i apologise.

Map of the base and the general location will be up in half an hour or so. For now, specific locations to search include the Hab-dome, control center, relay shrine, transformers and garage.

[Voltaire]

'Here we are, indeed.'

Marius' face betrays little of the anxiety he can feel stirring in his guts. Though the trip was uneventful, a thorough review of the available information does nothing to allay his fears and his suspicions of what is to come. He knew that something was off even before he saw the flattened section of the fence surrounding the facility. Something like a sigh escapes his lips.

'And what, exactly, do we have *here*?

He begins walking toward the facility, slowly, having disembarked from the truck. The others would be along presently, he was sure. Marius begins scanning the area with his eyes and his nose - ever reliable tools of his trade.

OOC



Awareness Test roll: [roll0] - TN is 42 (Per 32 +10)

[Godur]

Ethine climbed up into the truck and took a seat near the rear of it, and held her hand out to help the others onboard without as much as a word. On the way she simply sat still, with her lasgun laying across her lap, and stared at the terrain outside the vehicle.

Once they had arrived she quickly followed Marius out of the truck, walking behind him as she scanned the area with her eyes, and stretched out with her mind to try and sense if there was any warp presences in their immediate vicinity. The crushed bit of fences was troubling; had it been done by a vehicle or something worse?

She prepared her lasgun just in case, holding it in both hands. "Look at the fence. Was that made by a vehicle?" She asks, scanning the ground for tracks that might confirm that.


Awarness roll:
[roll0] Target is 41
Psyniscience roll:
[roll1] Target is 31

[LeSwordfish]

Those That Pass The Awareness Test
Something's wrong, something subtle. Something's missing. It's only as you reach the shrine that it occurs to you: there's no birdsong. As the evening sets in, you should be hearing birds in their hundreds, or any kind of life, but there's none.

That might be something to do with the planet. Tradewind has animal life, right?

Even so, suspicious.

The fence has been crushed down in the way you'd expect from a heavy vehicle, but it's rained since, and the mud has become a thick soup that is only now hardening. Tracks can only just be made out, and seem to imply a tracked vehicle, rather than a wheel.

Ethine
There's no disturbance in the warp to be felt here.

Maps
I truly, truly apologise for my lack of artistic ability. https://dl.dropbox.com/u/13673854/Dark%20Heresy/mountains.jpg
https://dl.dropbox.com/u/13673854/Dark%20Heresy/relay.png

[Madcrafter]

Ferrus looks around and stretches his legs a little after clambering out of the truck. Seeing Marius walking off and then noticing the damaged fence, he mumbles something along the lines of "Nothing's ever easy." before following after him, pulling out his auspex as he goes.
When he reaches the perimeter, he stops and concentrates on the auspex, unconsciously muttering the twenty-fifth verse of the Intonation of Optical Clarity as he adjusts it to pick up any life signs in the area.

I am assuming the fence is busted inwards correct?
Also, what's the scale on the facility map?

Awareness [roll0] vs. TN 34 (from the location of the spoiler I'm assuming this is before we get to the station)
Tech-Use for the auspex [roll1] vs. TN 72
Search [roll2] vs. TN 24 ((or awareness vs 44?) looking with the auspex for life, since I have no idea how far the distances are, the range is 50m)

[LeSwordfish]

The fence isn't in fact broken inwards. It's obvious, when you look at it: the fence is broken outwards, by something crashing outward through it.

The auspex picks up no signs of life. Nothing. It's effective range is fifty meters, and as far as you can tell, there's nothing larger than a fly within that range.

OOC
Scale is very rough, but the hab-dome is thirty or forty meters across.

[Aneurin]

Cat

Cat is, quite inevitably, an insufferable back seat driver. Her unconcerned and uninvolved act deteriorates almost the second they set foot in to a vehicle that she's not allowed to drive.

"Brake now, brake now! Don't do that, you'll stall it. Do you always drive this slowly? Why haven't you rewired the steering column, the response on it is lousy, and the fuel injection rig's timing sounds like it's off,"

As the pull up outside the facility, she swings herself down from the truck with a casual grace and saunters over to the tracks to examine them, trying to work out what sort of a vehicle could have gone through the fence.

While she doesn't draw a weapon, she's straining her ears and eyes for any sign of hostiles. This isn't so much because she expects to be attacked, as it is a lifelong habit that brings about a long life.

She looks around after a few moments.

"Hey, aren't there supposed to be those bird-things around here or something? You know, animals,"

[roll0] vs TN 41 (31+10), or 51 if the test is Sight based)

[Godur]

Ethine turn to Cat as she points out the lack of birdsong. "I noticed too. There is no birdsong, no animals whatsoever." She says with no distinguishable tone in her voice. Despite her apparent indifference this was not so; the fact that the animals where nowhere to be heard or seen was very disturbing indeed.

She keep her hands ready on the lasgun and approach the flattened fence, looking to Ferrus as she walks. "Is your Auspex picking up anything?" she asks him.

[Miraqariftsky]

"Huh..." grunts the Confessor. "...nor bird nor bat nor bug nor sump-rat rooting about, now that ye mentioned it"

He takes one look at the section of fence that had apparently been knocked down by some inexorable force. Some sort of vehicle? "Cat, Princeling--- can y'all tell what kind of vehicle it was? Civilian 'dozer? Chimera? Salamander? Something else?"

Nodding his grizzled head, he then asks, "Theodore, have there been any stolen vehicles that mighta had the power and track to do that? Also, what's the frequency of the 'caster here in the truck and at the base?"

Raising his gaze to the other Acolytes, the Confessor says, "In case we get separated or need crap, we better tune our 'beads in"

While waiting for an answer, he disappears into the undergrowth. When he emerges after an interminable period of hackwork and grunting--- not too loud as to be heard from inside, but loud enough for non-hiver soldiers to cringe--- he comes dragging a rather long tree-branch, with a good deal of twigs and leaves still weighing down the other end. "Someone care to help with this? Just in case someone thought to mine or booby-trap the path in. Won't help if they used some heavy-duty fireworks, but something's better'n nothing"

[Madcrafter]

"No, no signs of life, though it can't reach the the buildings yet." At the others's comments on the lack of animal activity, he sweeps the auspex quickly over the nearby trees to confirm their suspicions. He passes it to his mechadendrite, who happily accepts, and pulls out his microbead while wandering over to help the Confessor with the branch.

[LeSwordfish]

Theodore shakes his head. "It might be stolen, sure, but we've had no reports. There was a chimera on the base, that might be it."

"As for frequency, you can use the standard squad command one, Kappa Kappa Delta."

Brushing over the ground with the branch reveals no mines, or anything else suspicious. As you approach the buildings, nothing more appears on the auspex.

[Urist]

During the walk through the camp, John observes the small signs of lax discipline in the troops, adn does something few of said troops would expect: he smiles. These men remind him, through their small idiosyncrasies, of the men of Scintilla which he had once commanded. Those that salute him receive a salute and, as time allows, a handshake as he walks through.

Upon seeing the bottle of amasec hidden behind a trooper's back, John's smile broadens. "You don't have to hide that, trooper, as long as it's the good stuff. Carry on, soldier."
Turning to Kyros, he remarks "I hope they aren't too scared of me, Major. The Commissariat is here to aid morale, not to squash it."

During the breifing, John stays silent, absorbing the information quietly. On the cells exit, he gives the Major a sharp salute and a sign of the aquilla, and turns on his heel, departing quickly.
OOC:

I apologize for my lack of posting, the last few days have been more then a little crazy in terms of my personal life. Backdating a little bit of stuff, nothing substantial. Anything above this spoiler is before our trip out to the shrine.


Throughout the trip, John occupies himself in cleaning his weapons, reading from his prayer book, and buffing his double-headed eagle badge to a mirror shine. After finishing, he straps his hellgun to his back, leaving the spare capacitor's in the Chimera's lockers, and resumes reading.

Awareness roll: [roll0] vs. TN:25
The other's comments on the lack of birdsong cue John into the unnatural silence. He loks around warily, fully expecting enemies of the Emperor to pop up at any moment. "I'll help you with that branch, Confessor. Much like old times, ah?"

He turns to look at the rest of the group. ""Keep vox silence for as long as possible. No telling who might be listening."

[Aneurin]

Cat

She scuffs at the tracks a bit with one foot, and then shrugs slightly.

"No idea. Something big and heavy. Tracks, rather than tires. Could be most anything, but at a guess I'd say it's a military vehicle rather than a civvie. If we were some real terrain like a city I might have a better idea," she calls over, her tone making her loathing of nature plain. "Probably that Chimera,"

She rolls her head around, loosening up. So that quiet wasn't right, then. She hadn't been sure if that was normal or not - the palce needed some proper animals, like sump rats or rust roaches, or even arm-length, blood-sucking sewersquitos - the handul of animals that could survive the toxic hell of the underhive.

"I'm going to talk a walk around the place, see if there's anything to see. You want the door open before I go, or when I get back?"

[Godur]

Ethine set her microbead to the right frequency before placing it in her ear. "Frequency set. I am ready" She says to the others of the group as she step over the broken fence.

While recalling the briefing in her mind, she keep her eyes on the buildings of the shrine; looking at them each in turn briefly. "I suggest splitting up in groups to search the shrine. Ferrus should go directly to the power relay and transformers to release excess. I can go with him." she suggests in her regular monotone, expecting someone with more leadership qualities to make a decision on the matter.

[Voltaire]

Marius absent-mindedly fiddles with his micro-bead, until it is set to the correct frequency. His eyes are glued to the installation the whole time. A tracked vehicle, probably a Chimera. Busting down the gate. No signs of life. No signs of any fauna. Not good. Not good at all.

'That...' Marius licks his lips before continuing, '... that is a very good idea. Yes, let us split up. It will conserve already limited time. I... I am a people person. So I would prefer to investigate the Hab Dome, if there are no objections. This is... a strange series of events that took place here.'

He looks at his colleagues, waiting to hear their inclinations.

[Miraqariftsky]

The Confessor grunts his thanks to those who help him with the improvised mine-/trap-clearing operation. Looking up, he retunes his comms to the appropriate frequency, then takes up his Puritan once more, its parchment seals flapping gently in the breeze.

"Could have been carrying heretic troopers, then..." he replies to Cat, then appends to Theodore, "...not saying they were your men, but filth does have a way of attracting filth and slipping through the shadows"

Confessor Infernis frowns at Ethine's suggestion then nods his head at the others. "Good point... "

And then he butts in at Marius' words, with almost indecent haste. "...six of us. We go in pairs. Or in threes, if we can afford it. Watch each other's backs. Cat, forward, go ahead and scout, you know what to do. Marius and John, follow her at a distance, be ready to support. That done, go ahead and check, see if there's still anybody at the hab-dome. Ethine, with Ferrus, get that transformer's spirits relieved. I'll come with ye as firepower. Sir Theodore, if ye please, keep the engine purring, stand ready to get us out or to relay and get back-up in"

"Arright, ye dogs. Any questions?" growls the Confessor, then if none ask anything else, he jerks his head at John, to give the order to move out.

[Aneurin]

Cat

"I'm a cat, remember? A dog is something else," she says with a rare, wry grin. Much as she hats to admit it - and in fact hates not having good, reliable plasteel over her head - it's more than a little pleasant to be outside of a ship and doing something.

To her orders, though, she just gives a lazy wave of acknowledgement and saunters off, long-coat swirling around her ankles. She heads in a clockwise circle, heading to the garage first, then on to the relay building.

[Madcrafter]

Ferrus adjusts frequencies and reaches into his hood to equip the micro-bead. He pulls out the data slate from Emestos and Kyros and looks briefly at it. Watching watching the auspex the whole time, he then sets off towards the buildings, expecting the others to follow the Confessor's orders and catch up with him momentarily.

[Godur]

"Acknowledged." Ethine says simply to the Confessor, nodding to confirm that she's understood the order. She then begin making her way towards the buildings, following just alittle behind Ferrus for the first few steps before she catches up to walk beside him.

[LeSwordfish]

The Transformer
The transformer is a sullen black tangle to ethine, but another piece of beauty and expert craftsmanship for Ferrus. A birds-nest of cables leads to a bank of controls, under a rain-hood with a literal birds nest in it. One of the controls is a simple mechanical plug, where the dataslate can be inserted and programs from it run.

The Hab-Dome
Inside the hab-zone is pitch darkness. A square of darkness is turned grey, by the light from the door, but it's still pretty dark. Flies are buzzing, thickly somewhere.

The dome itself seems to be mostly a recreational room. Several beds are set around and into the walls of the rooms, with curtains for privacy, and ladders to reach the upper levels. A tiny rehydrator and sink are tucked beside the door, the only concessions to food it seems, and a small bathroom is set off beside the room. All are empty of people, or bodies.

The small table in the center of the room has a jumble of possessions and a plate of rotting food on it- a discarded book, some small equipment being tinkered with. One of the beds has a book, a mechanicus devotional tract, one corner of one page folded neatly down. Another has a laspistol, partially dissassembled, resting on a strip of oil-cloth. One boot stands neatly by itself near one of the chairs, which is now lying on the floor.

The door through into the Command dome is open, and the darkness of the corridor beyond is a gap, like a removed tooth.

[Godur]

Ethine move around the strange piece of machinery, scouting the area quickly and taking up a spot to guard while Ferrus worked. It was not her place to know how the transformer worked, nor to take the necessary measures to make sure the excess power was released. An extra pair of eyes is what she was for now.

[Madcrafter]

Ferrus walks under the rain-hood and casually knocks down the birds nest. It wasn't like there were any birds around anyways. He connects the dataslate to the console, and begins the process of releasing the excess power.

OOC:
Let me know if I need to do anything in particular. like tech use tests. As far as I gathered from Emestos's words, the dataslate already has everything needed, and its just plug and play.

[LeSwordfish]

The Transformer
The Dataslate plugs in easily, and without requesting so much as a confirmation ritual begins to run. Lights flicker on the console, and text scrolls across the slates screen too fast to read. The Transformer begins to hum louder and louder, and the wires above vibrate sharply, with neat, midpitched "Brank" noises.

And then it's over. A stink of ozone fills the air as the stored charge is released down the wires. Somewhere in the city below, lights glow brighter. Probably. Or burn out, a surge like that can do a lot of things. The overload problem has been averted, though.

The text on the screen stops scrolling and replaces itself with "Running Diagnostic. Restoring Main power."

Inside the hab-domes, all the lights blare on.

The Hab-dome

The lights come on, with a heavy "Click" and a blinding white glare.

[LeSwordfish]

The Outbuildings
Most of the outbuildings of the plant seem to have nothing of interest in. Racks of tools too specialist to be worth interest, mostly.

The garage, however, is interesting. It's empty of vehicles, but the roof means that the tracks around the entrance have not been washed away by the rain. A Chimera left here. Fast, if you're any judge, looking at the mud splatters.

One of the walls of the garage is colandered with holes, each about an inch across. They've punched clean through the thin sheet metal, and are unmistakably las-bolts, fired from inside the garage.

[Aneurin]

Cat

The Outbuildings
She hunkers down for a few moments to examine the tracks more closely, then looks around the garage, clicking her tongue in displeasure.

Cat then walks over to the las-fire-riddled wall and looks over at the other wall, the one untouched by laser burns, before peering through the holes, trying to work out what, or where, the las fire could have been directed at.

Finally, she pulls down the shutters of the garage to examine them for signs of forced entry.

[LeSwordfish]

Outbuildings

The tracks show the chimera left quickly, and, as far as you can tell, heavily loaded.

The las-fire would have been made by someone standing beside or atop the parked chimera, aimed at someone on the ground besides the door. There's no blood, but over this amount of time, blood-flies and the elements would have cleared it up. At this short range, las-shots would have punched clean through a body.

The doors take a long time to haul down, and are heavily rusted. It seems that they haven't been closed in months. The reasonably clement climate in this area and the hardy equipment presumably doesn't warrant it.

[Aneurin]

Cat

The Outbuildings

She shakes her head slightly at the state of the door. Thieves' paradise. She wonders if security in the rest of the outpost is this sloppy. She glances around to locate her tail, and calls over to them;

"Heavy-loaded Chimera took off out of here. Looks like they were shooting at something on the ground just before they went. No bodies. I'm heading on if you want to take a closer look,"

With that, she walks back out of the garage and continues her circuit of the fences, pausing to squint in to the two pylons at either end of the compound, before heading in to the relay building.

Might as well find out if we can talk to Kyros, she thinks, quite deliberately leaving off the major's title in the thought. As an after thought, she fiddles with her microbead to set it to the same frequency as the others.

[Madcrafter]

"Well, that is done now." He disconnects the dataslate. Ignoring the advice to maintain comm silence, he radios to the others "Have you found anything yet?"

OOC:I see the hab dome people haven't actually done anything yet, so consider my question to happen after they have posted a bit if it works better.

[Urist]

John acknowledges the Confessor's plan with a curt nod, and draws his Mars-Pattern Laspistol.


"A solid plan, Confessor. Cat, Marius and I will be Team Alpha, Ferrus, Ethine, and Infernis will be Team Bravo. Move with caution. Remember, we have no idea what happened here as of yet, and the cause could still be present. Stay alert, stay quiet, and if you encounter hostiles, radio immediately. Move out, soldiers!"

John, following Cat closely, enters the outbuilding, sweeping his aim over every corner of the room. Finding no immediate threat, he lowers his weapon, and examines the lasbolt impact sites.

Things are looking more and more like a mutiny of some sort. No evident corpses, though. This is creating more questions then answers.

When Ferrus breaks radio silence, John's face shifts from contemplative to furious in mere moments. Speaking into his microbead, John spits out
"Desist comm usage immediately and await further instructions, Ferrus. Alpha and Bravo, proceed with caution, enemy contacts potentially alerted."

[Godur]

Ethine stand by the entrance to the transformer dome, seemingly unphased by the noise of the machine as the excess power is released, and only move towards the passage that connect the transformer to the command dome.

Seeing as the task to realease the power had gone so smoothly it, at least in her mind, now seemed prudent to move on to the next structure to cotninue the search. "Father, requesting permission to proceed to command dome." She says, turning her head to confessor infernis.

[Miraqariftsky]

Cartilege crackles as the Confessor looks up into the steel ceiling. Whether it is a prayer of thanks or a sigh of exasperation is drowned out as the transformers' spirits relieve themselves.

Sump-rats a-jiggin'! Too quiet here... too damned quiet... The Metallican Minister nods at Ethine, then gestures with his Puritan's muzzle. "Granted. Let's just make sure nothin' else's amiss here before movin' out, eh?"


Juuuust to make sure. Better to try than not, eh?
Awareness: [roll0] TN 30

If nothing be found, proceed to the Command Center, then on to the Hab Dome.

[Voltaire]

Marius shields his eyes from the glare with his free hand as the lights go on around the complex. His pupils shrink, in response. Soon thereafter, the flies are upon him, and he begins swatting at them absentmindedly as he steps across the floor of the habdome, gingerly.

No bodies. No bodies. No bodies. Just traces of bodies. Live bodies? Where are they now? One boot? Why one boot?

Thoughts race through his mind as Marius sweeps the room, las pistol drawn. He pays no mind to his comrades, who are likely doing the same, as he slowly moves toward the center of the room. When he reaches it, he notices the book atop one of he beds. He sidesteps over to it and picks it up, thumbing over to the folded page, looking for anything interesting.

OOC

Can I make a Scrutiny check for the habdome? Any modifiers? Here's the roll, just in case: [roll0] - TN=32 (unmodified).

[LeSwordfish]

Searching both in and outside the handsome reveals nothing more.

Ever since the lights went on, music has been drifting quietly through from the control room, a sound on the edge of hearing. In the corridor, flies buzz, and they only get louder as you pass through.

The control room is large, and the windows around the top suggest That by day it would be pleasant and airy. Rings of Consoles circle the room, with wire chairs bolted to the floor in front of them. Flies are now visible in the air. Slapping one against the wall leaves a bulb of blood.

There is a dead man, seated in front of the vox-console. His eyes are closed and his face peaceful, but His stomach and chest destroyed by las-bolts some bolts have gone clean through him, leaving messy holes cauterised with black flesh. The flies have taken all the blood, and left bile-coloured maggots. The flesh is beginning to decompose, and grey-green fungus is growing on the neck.

The man is dressed in the uniform of one of the Messinan guardsmen, and his sheath is empty. The music- an imperial waltz, it seems, continues drifting from somewhere in the room.

The vox-console is lit up. The power-cut has disabled it, and now power is on the screen is blankbut the main dial is set to "send text". A few sample frequencies are written on the vox-console, two in a stencilled ink, and one in chalk.

Sorry for taking so long over this. In my job- theatrical director- you sometimes get ages where you barely have ten minutes spare for weeks.