Seeds of Liberation.

[ellna]

http://fc04.deviantart.net/fs71/i/2013/136/a/0/morning_flyby_by_meckanicalmind-d65gsrl.jpg (http://meckanicalmind.deviantart.com/art/Morning-Flyby-371978913)

Pleegawa, the frozen planet. A tiny frosted orb that orbits a vast sun, with soft golden glow. Officially the world is designated as feral; but for centuries, if not millennia, two powerful corporations have fought to change that. The Derion dynasty and the Ebbesen collective both seek the right to exploit the unspoiled world. However the vast Imperium in it's wisdom, or in it's blindness, remains silent giving answer to neither. Instead in contents itself with taking bribes and offerings from both corporations while claiming a tithe of men and beasts from whichever primitive warlord boasts the strength of arms to proclaim himself king. Thusly the population of this unimportant, little world are left to fend for themselves without the meddling of the Imperium. In fact for most of the world's inhabitants the Imperium is little more than a word and like the edicts of their king carries less weight than howl of an approaching blizzard. Tribal societies are scattered across Pleegawa hunting savage creatures with nothing but stone-tipped spears. Such conditions breed humans fierce as Catchans and hardy Valhallans it is then no surprise that the Imperium's main use for them is as soldier to feed it's never ending wars.

Through the smoke marred window of your shuttle you can see the icy tundra, cast in the glow of morning light it possesses a stunning beauty. Flaming trails form around the other shuttles, that follow your descent from the void above. The spectacle looks as though flaming comets are raining down of the frigid planet. However it was not burning brimstone that fell today, but something much worse. The Imperium had returned.



"Looks chilly, eh?" The voice cut through the rumbling of the shuttle, as they descended the harsh rattling subsided and the howling wind outside could be heard over the hum of straining engines. The voice belonged to Santo, a gruff looking man. He had a matt of scruffy hair and an equally scraggly beard, it seemed as though hygiene was a foreign concept to this man and throughout the shuttle ride his odour had sought to invade every olfactory orifice. The only clean thing on the man was his weapon, clearly well kept it would've put a guardsman to shame. A immaculately polished and oiled autogun, the clip was clearly custom easily twice that of what be considered normal. Despite the care he clearly gave his gun, Santo was no soldier. Tattoos covered his arms that marked him as a ganger, though they were now covered with the same winter gear everyone had donned. What he had done to fall in with the inquisition was anybodies guess.

The man sat beside him cut a very different figure. His hair was neatly trimmed, his chin clean shaven and even his standard issue guardsman boots bore a brilliant polish. Underneath the heavy winter gear he was wore he no doubt wore a standard issue guardsman uniform. Even the lasgun sat in his lap was standard issue, in fact the only thing about him that wasn't standard issue was the heavy scowl he had kept fixed at the opposite wall for the entire trip. The only words he had spoken were those he barked before you had all boarded the shuttle. "I'm Sergeant Gabriel Aipopo, you report to me."

At least he had given his name, the scrivener buckled in the furthest seat had said nothing. Of course he didn't have to, he was just an observer watching and recording everything. The rumour was that Inquisitor, Lord Kantor, sent one of these loyal savants with each cell that operated under him. The man seemed sickly, his skin drawn taut over his bones and he clutched fiercely at the heavy tome that was his duty. Unlike the rest of this little band, he had not donned the warm winter garb, blankly staring at it when offered.


Earlier the shuttle bay.
"Hey slate-man, best wrap up."
"Hypothermia weather on the surface... I'll help you. Come here."
"Doc, leave it he don't want to be warm let him freeze."
"He is not going to be writing anything with his fingers falling off, come on help me get him in these."
"He ain't our problem, remember what ta' orders were, no tampering. Maybe he's a servy."
"No sort of servitor I ever saw..."

The doctor's conclusion seemed apt as what ever the scribe was, right now he looked to be a hair from chucking up his guts. The final member of the Inquisition's little cell was the Doctor. Least that's what Santo called him, true enough the slender man carried a box marked with the Medicae's crest, but he had given his name Lexus Medland. His features were all chiselled, as though a sculptor had carved him from stone. He didn't bear any scars or signs of wear and his hands, the dead give away, were long and neatly manicured. His voice and bearing too both betrayed him as being better, a man who once had wealth and servants. Now he too served the Inquisitor.

"Looks chilly, eh? Perhaps we'll have to keep each other warm." Santo again. slightly louder this time, it took a moment to realise he had been speaking to her. He gave a lewd wink accompanied by a dirty smirk.

[Strawberries]

Tajah keeps taking short, measured breaths, like she's done since she set foot on the damned shuttle. The smell certainly has a lot to do with it, although she is not stranger to company possessing unpleasant body odours, but the main reason is that the shuttle ride makes her nauseous. All shuttle rides, warp travelling, vehicles of any sort make her nauseous. She can sort of understand the fellow in the corner, who looks like he's going to puke sooner rather than later. She feels very close to be joining him in that.

"Tajah" She had just said when she's has been asked, and left it at that, although her expression had seemed to discourage any other overture, friendly or otherwise. Of the group, the doctor is the only one that had looked friendly (And nice to look at her mind had interjected), but he was obviously a damned Upperhiver... or whatever the equivalent of those was wherever he come from, the guy in charge had said three words and she has already the temptation to punch him, and the guy in the corner... Tajah has her own working theory on the guy in the corner, actually. She has seen people like him before. She has seen people in worse shape than him before, actually... and not on her home planet, either. He looks like one of those poor bastards that didn't make it, just before they came and carried them away. She hasn't checked, even if she has the means to. She had been slightly too preoccupied not to puke on her own shoes... but she plans to, as soon as the shuttle lands.

The fifth member of the little group, she realises abruptly, is talking to her. Screw that, the fifth member of the little group is coming on to her, and of course it had to be the one with the smell, hadn't it? "You wish." she just replies, scathingly, glaring at him. The reply and the glare have been pretty much an ingrained reaction. In your lonely, pathetic dreams she could have added, but every time she puts together more than four words, her accent gives her away as underhive trash, and as irrational as that is, Tajah is trying to avoid that for as long as she can. The less things people know about you, the better, she has soon learnt.

I couldn't pass up the opportunity for a Firefly quote, couldn't I? :smalltongue: Expecially given the mental image I've had in my head for the last half hour.

Also, right or wrong, Tajah is under the impression that the guy in the corner is another psyker. She'll try to psyniscience him as soon as the shuttle stops moving...and then possibly try to get him to put on something warm.

[ellna]

Tajah's reaction, only served to make Santo's grin grow, he licked his lips and...

"Stow it. Santo, stop fraternising with the scrag. It's here for one reason."

Gabriel barked his orders and fixed Santo with an angry stare. The sergeant's gaze then fell on Tajah, brimming with disgust. Santo's lecherous smile fled and was replaced with wary distaste. The wind howled and battered at the wall's of the shuttle, which now returned to a heavy stillness broken only by Lexus, muttering a prayer for his soul beneath his breath. Gabriel gave a thin smile before his scowl returned, thrusting his hand into a pocket he produced documents which he waved for the others.

"Right let's go over the mission. We've another scrag to catch."

The documents were signed by the Chief Quartermaster of the Anvil of Perdition, which sat in orbit above Pleegawa flanked by a pair of Naval Corvettes. The Anvil of Perdition was a monolithic Cargo Hulk, with the arduous task of ferrying supplies to the far reaches of the Imperium and for the time being acolytes of the Inquisition. The other shuttles dropping through the atmosphere bore supplies destined for the Imperial Guard stationed on this planet. The documents granted the acolytes the use of the shuttle for the duration of their mission and whatever they needed to complete it. Though exactly what "whatever" entailed, had been carefully detailed by the dutiful Chief Quartermaster prior to their departure. The first step was to reach the Imperial guard and produce the thick sheath of papers to whomever there held rank.

The second step was to see the King of this winter paradise. A bulky case sat buckled into it's own seat beside Gabriel, a gift for his majesty. Truly bribery was the simplest form of diplomacy. According to the briefing this king had an informant, one who had witnessed a child displaying: "The craft of the witch". The child was their true goal, to recover the psyker dead or alive. In the center of the shuttle's hold sat the iron coffin, a constant reminder of their purpose. It was easily large enough to house an adult and studded with dials and screens, but for now it's machine spirit remained silent, dormant and waiting. A metal prison. Somehow it managed to radiate an air of dread, even inanimate as it was.

"So any questions?"

Gabriel voice was so like a drill-sergeant from a bad holo-drama, that the question almost seemed to be ended with; maggots.

[Strawberries]

So much for people not knowing about her, it seems. You HAD to say that, didn't you, you bloody piece of rat crap? Tajah manages to bite her tongue before saying that, or an equivalent out loud: the guy is in charge, which means that the guy has all the means to make her life very unpleasant.... possibly even sent her back where she has been picked up. And if there's one thing that Tajah is absolutely certain of, is that she really, really doesn't want to go back where she has been picked up from.

She unconsciously crosses her arms in front of her chest and addresses everybody another glare, though is clear that she is slightly uncomfortable, this time. "No" she growls, at the Sergeant's question, even if she has two questions of her own. The first one is Do you train to be *******s or does it come natural?, but the second is slightly more pertinent to the mission. Why us? Why the Inquisition?. When she had been picked up, she doesn't remember the Inquisition being involved. It had been a malnourished-looking bounty hunter, that had dragged her away and sold her to the planetary force. A feral world wouldn't probably have a planetary force, but still, five people to go after a single psyker... she honestly hopes for him that when he gets caught he's dead rather than alive. She shudders a bit at the thought.

[ellna]

Gabriel glared at Tajah, some acidic remark no doubt on the tip of his tongue. However it was Lexus who spoke up.

"I only need to know the size of the child. The dose has to be tailored to the subject's body mass." He said to no-one in particular. His voice calm, as though the entire situation was perfectly normal. Gabriel grunted and broke off staring at Tajah.

"I don't see why we don't just shoot the runt, make our job easier."

"Lord Kantor, would prefer it alive."

"Why should we care? It's just some Scrag." Santo's voice is a sneer, as he casts a look at Tajah.



The howling wind grows stronger beyond the shuttles' confines and a harsh, red light begins strobing the interior. Over the intercom the machine spirit is barely audible, repeating crackling litanies of protection. The shuttle shakes violently as landing struts descend. Through the windows the ground, barely visible through the flurry of snow, draws closer and closer. The engines strain and the floor creaks from stress. The cacophony of the gale outside and the whining turbines reaches a crescendo, ending in a mighty shudder that signals landing.

The Pilot's voice rings out, as the din of the shuttle calms down.

"Next stop Pleegawa."

Then a horrifying sound, cracking ice. It carries over all over sounds with a crystal clarity. The shuttle drops suddenly, perhaps a couple of feet. Then it finally rests. Gabriel, who had been busily unbuckling himself curses, as the jarring impact sends him flying from his seat. The peculiar scribe heaves as though vomiting, but only a wheezing cough escapes his throat.

"Next stop, same as the last. Pleegawa."

[Strawberries]

Tajah doesn't give any of the several replies that have easily come to mind. It's not really worth it. She does, however, mentally cross the doctor off the 'make a pass at if occasion arises' list. It wasn't a very big list to begin with. "It'd be better if we just shoot him." she mutters instead under her breath. The poor bastard, whoever he is. She honestly hopes he's not too young. There weren't many young people, on Terra, and she hasn't seen any really young children at all... but she supposes young children are the very first to go. Damn

"Emperor's wrinkled ass, at least try to be careful!" she is startled into half-shouting by the sudden fall. Her hands reflexively tighten up on the seat's armrest, but luckily she was still strapped in, and doesn't follow the sergeant ignominious display. At least she hasn't made a mess, small comfort that that is, even though she does feel her stomach somewhere in the area of her throat.

She takes great pleasure in getting up and walking right past the sergeant, that's still trying to get himself up. "Hey, y' alright there, mate?" she asks instead to the scribe. He creeps her out, especially because of his utter lack of a psychic signature, but she feels more at ease to stand near him than anybody else. And if that isn't a sure sign of how screwed she is, she doesn't know how else to call it. "They weren't kidding, y' know, y' should put something warm on."

[ellna]

Tajah approaches the scribe, and for a second she feels something. The weakest of psychic signatures, but then like smoke in the wind it's gone. Whatever the scribe was it was at least living. Outwardly however the scribe makes no acknowledgement of Tajah, or her words. Instead as soon as the shuttle finally rests, he opens his tome and begins to frantically scribble across the empty pages. A quill clasped in one bony hand and an inkpot in the other. As Tajah's shadow falls across the book, she can see the cryptic symbols the scribe was writing, it clearly wasn't gothic. Perhaps it was some Inquisition code or shorthand; it looked, however, like the dancing of a deranged spider.

Gabriel picks himself up, red-faced, as the rest unbuckle. Outside other shuttles land like black locusts, marring the brilliant white of the snow. Their bellies laden with cargo. The landing ramp descended onto the crisp snow beyond and the biting chill entered the shuttle's hold, which suddenly seemed cavernous. The freezing air, carried one boon. It purged the stale and rank stench that was the eau de Santos. A soft fragrance could actually detect on the wind, some winter flower perhaps.

Gabriel was still organising himself when Santo strolled up and slapped him on the back.

"I was right, freezin'. Hey Soldier-boy reckon there's any women in the regiment. 'Coz I'd like t... " Santo was stopped mid-thrust, of completing whatever rude gesture he was making. Gabriel had span around and swung his fist into the man's face sending him sprawling to the ground. Anger twisted Gabriel's face, as he stood over Santo...

"That's Sergeant Soldier-boy to you! For that you can stay here baby-sit the box, while I get our ride." With that he swung his lasgun over his shoulder and stormed off into the snow. Leaving Santo sitting stunned on the floor, with blood streaming from his broken nose. Off to the side Lexus, carefully slid his hand away from his holstered pistol, clicking the strap back on. The doctor moved to help Santo, despite his waving away. Lexus gripped the still bleeding nose and snapped it back into place, wiping the blood clear on Santo's shoulders as he hauled him back to his feet.

As he did so Lexus clearly whispered something to the dirty ganger, but it was too quiet to catch amid the howling wind. Santo's reply, punctuated by spitting blood, was slightly louder.

"Feh, it was a cheap shot. He won't be so lucky next time."

With that Lexus grabbed his Medicae kit and cinched his winter furs tighter, before strolling after Gabriel. His measured stride, however quickly ceased when he stepped from the craft into the gusting wind; which forced him to bend and brace against it. The scribe, finished scratching at the faded parchment and also followed after the Sergeant. Already the scribe was shivering from the cold, his thin robe doing little to protect him from the elements. Once in the wind he bowed and swayed as though it was going to lift him clear of the ground. Still he said nothing.



http://fc00.deviantart.net/fs70/i/2010/104/9/7/Ice_Station_by_Chris_Law.jpg (http://chris-law.deviantart.com/art/Ice-Station-160713746)

Past the thick, swirling snow a dull, grey tower loomed. It burst from the frozen ice like a spear. From it's base; artificial light spilled out mingling with the glow of the morning sun. This was the only bastion of the Imperium on this forgotten rock and it bore the savage wind without pause. The other shuttles behind them had already begun to unload, ramps disgorging men carrying massive crates marked with the holy aquila. The turbines of the idling engines glowed red with their heat, but a thin layer of frost was already forming on the blackened hulls. Gabriel was forging towards the lit entrance with an impressive pace, heedless of the shouts from the other crews, which were lost on the wind. He slowed for a moment to allow you to catch him, before he continued wading through the deep drift.

"Remember, we're Adeptus Munitorum. Special assignment, let me do the talking."

[Strawberries]

Tajah makes sure to stay well away from the conflict. She doesn't like Santo, but, in all honesty, she would have preferred Gabriel to be the one wounding up with his face messed up. Because the douchebag couldn't help himself, he had to tell, didn't he?

The deep, bone-freezing cold that enters the shuttle when the doors open makes her launch a worried look at the scribe. She doesn't really like the idea of him dropping dead for hypotremia or whatever that fancy word the doctor used to mean freezing your bits off and keeling over is. She grabs the discarded coat of his winter attire and hurries after the shivering scribe. "You'll thank me, mate, trust me" she mutters, plopping the garment on his bony shoulders. The full impact of the weather hits her as soon as she sets foot outside the shuttle. Holy Emperor, it's cold




"Adeptus M'nitorum. Got it, sir." She had got that the first time she had been told, but the man wasn't in a particularly good mood, and Tajah doesn't see any reason to provoke him further. She had already got her nose broke once, and doesn't feel particularly keen to repeat the experience. That's why she makes a point to use the honorific, as well. Would it kill you to slow down a bit, dammit?

[ellna]

The scribe makes no response as the bulky garment is deposited on his shoulders other than slumping slightly beneath its weight and clutching his tome ever tighter like a frightened child. A sudden, violent gust of wind tugs off the insulating garment from the scrivener. Any sane person would of clutched at their coat in such circumstances, but the scribe seemingly cares only for his work. Oblivious, Gabriel continues to set an unrelenting pace. The snowstorm continues to build and soon the shuttles and their crews are lost from sight, even the imposing tower rapidly becomes nothing more than a soft glow that barely penetrates the flurry of white. In this harsh weather the scribe is buffeted savagely like a leaf and his coat, lying amid the climbing snow, threatens to be whisked away forever...

The scribe's unresponsiveness means that Tajah would actually have to fasten the coat herself for it to stay there.

The scribe is making slow progress in the blizzard, Gabriel and Lexus are forging ahead and will soon be non-visible in the blizzard.

If you wish to grab the coat it requires a +30 Ag test to reach before it is whipped away by another gust.

[Strawberries]

"Hey!" Tajah is completely unprepared to the lack of reaction, but she acts by pure instinct anyway, diving behind the coat without even thinking about the wisdom of it. She does question the wisdom of it when she finds herself with a mouthful full of snow Emperor's balls, it is freezing., but is rewarded by her fingers closing around the garment just a moment before it's snatched away.

"You'll owe me, mate". She regains composure and an erect position, spitting the snow out as she struggles with the wind to put the coat back on his shoulder. She keeps it steady with one hand as she has to walk around him to try and fasten at least a couple of the buttons as if he was a small child, and in the meantime, the sergeant and the doctor who have gotten further away that she's comfortable with. But what am I supposed to do, leave him to freeze to his death?.

"Com'n, mate, help me out a bit, I know y're there somewhere." she mutters more to herself than to him as she tries to steady him and urge him forward a bit at the same time. "Hey!" This time the shout is directed to Gabriel and Lexus Slow down, dammit.

Well, she'll continue moving forward, but she's not leaving the scribe behind. If she loses the other, oh well. She'll still go towards the tower.

[ellna]

The frail scribe continues to stumble forward through the unrelenting flurry of snow. The icy wind bites and pulls at Tajah as she wrestles with the thick coat. Despite this she manages to secure the garment around him.

When Tajah looks up from her task, Gabriel and Lexus are gone. She and the scribe could be mere feet from them and still not know. The snow that swirls around them was now so thick that nothing else could be distinguished; other than the light pooling from the vanished tower. The wind screams through her ears with a deafening intensity and Tajah can be certain her shout has gone unheard.

Forcing through the onslaught of freezing sleet, she eventually reaches the relative calm found in the shadow of the tower. Gabriel and Lexus are standing there, waiting at the entrance. Gabriel seems to be yelling something, his voice lost on the wind, as Tajah draws closer she manages to make out his repeated shout.

"Draw iron and follow me! Scribbler stay with the Doc! Scrag! Double time! We've got trouble."

http://fc04.deviantart.net/fs31/f/2008/204/5/6/The_Hangar_by_AndreeWallin.jpg
(http://www.deviantart.com/art/The-Hangar-92442718)

Gabriel has his lasgun ready, the flicker of the safety showing it to be primed and ready. Lexus too, has drawn his side-arm and taken cover at the side of the open entrance. Beyond this yawning portal, lies a vast room easily able to allow ten men marching abreast. At the far side another door, sealed, waits marking the entrance to the domain of the Imperium. Snow has piled up at the entrance, flooding into the room. Then Tajah spots it, blood. Off to the left a smaller door, obviously intended for a single person and leading to it is a trail of dried blood...

[Strawberries]

Tajah swears under her breath, cursing all feral planets and the people living on them, and the Inquisition, while she's at it, sending her on this forsaken corner of the galaxy for Emperor only knows what reason... but she doesn't release her hold on the scribe's arm, and keeps guiding him forward between the flurries. After all the trouble she's gone for him, she's not having him get lost and die on her in the snow.

She draws her weapon when she hears Gabriel shout, recognising trouble even if she can't make out the words. Then, a second later, she does make out the word, and, oh, consequences be damned, Tajah isn't going to take a single minute of it anymore. "Y' want me to bloody cover y'r back, y' start calling me with my name, mate" she hisses at him. And for that, he may bloody well go ahead first, Tajah thinks. She certainly isn't going to risk her behind for him. Even though, there is no reason not to get a head start.

Weapon drawn, she takes position on the opposite side of Gabriel, then carefully, she extends her perception again. As far as she's concerned, that is the one neat trick the Scolastica Psykana has taught her. And it would have come in handy in the Underhive, as well.

Psyniscience again, please? [roll0] vs 32

[ellna]

Gabriel clenches his jaw and swallows whatever retort he might of had. He doesn't spare a glance to Tajah as he moves into the room, sweeping the soft shadows for any hidden lurker. His lasgun's light reveals nothing lurking inside the large room, but as it plays over the massive inner door it's clear that it won't be opening in any hurry. The nearby control panel, with the rune of opening, throws sparks out into the room and the door itself has been partially melted. A discarded welder lies on beneath the rusted doorway, as further evidence of the hasty sealing. On the right side of the room another smaller door lies, it's light flickering weakly. Gabriel content that nothing was hidden in the main room, cautiously advances on the bloodied door. He manages to sidle up beside the door without any incidence. He spares Tajah a brief glance and prepares to go through...

Initiative and Awareness.

[Strawberries]

The fancy, military-style moves are completely lost on Tajah. As far as her experience goes, there are only really two things to do: be quiet so they don't know you're there and run away really fast if you do get spotted. The second is not really feasible at the moment, mainly because the only way away leads to a frozen hell of a wasteland, so she tries to take cover the best she manages to and be as silent and inconspicuous as she can.


Silent move? [roll0] vs 32
Initiative [roll1]
Perception [roll2]

[ellna]

Tajah's attempt to be quiet is far from a success. The rusted metal floor accompanies each step with a grating ringing, which echoes eerily through the room. All she can do is move slowly and carefully and hope the thundering blizzard covers her approach. Gabriel of course makes no effort to move quietly, his military boots, announcing each separate step. As Tajah draws close to the bloodied door, she able to distinguish a voice beyond. Muttering and punctuated by a rattling cough. It sounds crazed and wild, the odd acoustics only serving to reinforce it's sinister quality.

"I won't succumb... I won't... I'm... We're... What have I done... Make it... Survive... Emperor forgive me... Not again..."

Tajah can also make out another sound, a ripping or tearing. Gabriel shifts his weight extending his hand towards the door, he spares a fleeting glance to Tajah, heavy with disgust. His hand extends three fingers. Then two. Beyond the door, Tajah hears the muttering cease and a soft tinkle, a scuffle of metal on metal. Then one...

[Strawberries]

Tajah cringes involuntary at the level of noise she's making. It doesn't matters much, with the level of noise Gabriel is making, but still, she is obviously out of practice. She scowls right back at the sergeant's look And why exactly should I do as you say? she refrains from saying. Even she realises that that isn't probably a good idea. Not with the sounds that are coming from behind the door.

Things is the thought that surfaces for a fleeting moment in her mind, coming from nowhere and gone just a second before she can assign a context to it. The sounds in question practically scream 'bad news', the sort of bad news from which you should run away very fast. They know we're here. Of course they do, with all the noise they've been making. And, Emperor be damned, she's going to follow the stupid jerk all the same, isn't she? Because really, what else can I do?

Tajah makes up her mind just a moment before he finishes the countdown, grips her pistol tighter and prepares to point it at whoever is behind the door.

[ellna]

Then one...

Gabriel turns the handle and barges the door, his shoulder forcing it open. Before he can bring his lasgun to bear, a trio of lasbolts are fired. They sear the icy air and leave a hectic after-image floating in the flickering light. Gabriel, clearly not expecting this resistance, is left standing in the doorway for a heartbeat, saved only by the assailant's poor accuracy. His training takes hold and he flings himself back into cover.

Beyond the door, the room is a sickening display of human carcasses. The bodies of at least a dozen imperial guardsmen lie in various states of mutilation. The room may of once been a mess hall and is filled with long tables and benches, however it now only serves as a charnel house. Their blood covers everything and seems to glisten, though it is now surely stale and dry. The source of the frantic rambling that Tajah had heard before is immediately obvious. Crouched behind an overturned table is a filthy man dressed in tatter's that were once the uniform of the imperial guard. The barrel of his lasgun still glows red hot. His hair is long and matted and his eyes show a manic fear, he seems more like a cornered dog than a human.

Surprise Round: Crazy fires and Misses
Tajah is up next.
Then it'll be Crazy then Tajah then Gabriel.

Crazy is hunkered down behind a table, armed with a lasgun and guard flak armour. Distance 15m ish.

[Strawberries]

Damn. Tajah has seen enough people in similar conditions to realise there's probably no way of reasoning with the guardsman or whoever they may be. Still under cover, she starts to point her weapon towards him, but just before the barrel can align itself with his head she thinks again about it. If questioned, she would probably tell she's done it so that he can be captured and interrogated, but the real reasoning behind it isn't so tactical. I'm here for one reason, am I? Well, let's show him.

It's her very first trick, the very first thing she has learned how to do. Tajah focuses, tuning out Gabriel and all the rest, concentrating only on the guardsman and, most important, the lasgun that the guardsman is carrying. It's a thing made of mechanical parts and machine spirit, and she has always had a knack for putting her hands where they don't belong anyway, even if it's just her mind's hands.

Weapon jinx ahoy!

[roll0] vs threshold 8. Fingers crossed. Edit: awww.... :smallfrown:

[ellna]

The crazed man fires his gun once again, another trio of lasbolts slamming against their cover. Frenzied, wild and inaccurate. The doorway, built to last by imperial hands, withstands the onslaught with little more than welts in the masonry. The door continues to creak back and forth as it hangs open.

"Frak Krast! Frak 'im."

Tajah is up again.

[Strawberries]

It hadn't worked. Of course it hadn't, it seemed to never really work when she needs it too. And really, the only time that it had saved her behind had been pure luck, hadn't it?

Sodding feral planet, sodding crazy lunatic and sodding Inquisition! Tajah scowls again, fiercely. Not that he can tell her expression, ducking under cover as she is. "Who's Krast, mate?" Distract him, he's unhinged enough that maybe he will forget to shoot us.. And now would be a perfect sodding moment for her powers to work, wouldn't it?

To err is human, but I like perseverating.

Let's try that power things again. [roll0] vs threshold 8. EDIT: HEY! :smallbiggrin:

[ellna]

Gabriel snaps of a burst of las, with trained precision. The screaming bolts find only the cold embrace of metal, however, as they burn through the overturned table. He snarls as he sees his efforts wasted.

"Don't try it! I'll kill you all be..."

The lunatic pulled once again on the trigger of his own lasgun. It then made a sound that every guardsman feared. Empty, broken, malfunctioning. Whatever the cause no bolts spat from his weapon, instead it crackled with electricity. He yelped dropping the gun, his eyes wide with panic and fear. He turned and sprinted...

He was scrambling towards one of the corpses, a lasgun forgotten on the ground beside it.

"Forward, Move up."

[Strawberries]

Tajah looks around herself, locating a suitable cover a few metres ahead, in the form of an overturned bench. She runs towards it and crouches down, narrowly avoiding to step on the mauled body of one of the Imperial guards in the process, and fires at him in the hope to incapacitate him before he can reach the gun.

shooting him, for now.

[roll0] vs 31,plus whatever bonus applies for being two against one (is it +10, I believe)

If it hits, damage is [roll1]

[ellna]

Tajah's las-blast fails to connect with the frenzied lunatic, but is close enough to give him pause. Gabriel sprints forward and ducks behind the same overturned table the maniac abandoned, peering through the holes his own shots had burnt.

The ragged man manages to make it to the corpse and snatches up the fallen lasgun. His breath is loud and irregular, coming in panicked heaving.

And back to Tajah.
Gabriel and Crazy are now ~5m from each other.

[Strawberries]

Tajah considers the situation. She could shoot him again, sure, but if she can actually manage to buy five seconds for Gabriel to lounge at the crazy, they could just finish that straight away and get a prisoner in the process. "I'd put that down if I w're you, mate." she says, in a conversational tone. "Y'know, 'fore it jams again?"

I know, I know, it's just tempting fate now...

Once again! [roll0] Edit: oh, well, at least I didn't get a 13. :smalltongue:

[ellna]

"Jus' die! Frak'n..."

His chest rattles as he struggles to draw in precious air in fast enough to fuel the stream of profanities straining at his lips. A shot from Gabriel flashes dangerously close to his face and serves only to spur him deeper into frantic madness. The screams of rage become incoherent as spittle flies from his lips. He fires. More flashes of light. Two lasbolts punch through the thin metal of Gabriel's table, adding more holes and leaving angry weals on the sergeant's armour. The third streak of energy hits higher, flying over the table and burning straight to his flesh. The stench of cooking meat and singed hair rises from his arm, as Gabriel grits his teeth in pain.

Gab makes an aimed shot on Crazy and misses.
Crazy hits with a 3 shot burst, the first two going through cover and the third a direct hit to Gab.
Gab is hurt, but still active. Gab's Table is rapidly succumbing to Las-fire.

Tajah's turn.Gabriel takes 4 wounds(is now on 6). Cover is on 5.

[Strawberries]

Crap. She's not particularly attached to Gabriel - alright, let's face it, she wouldn't piss on him if she saw him on fire in the street - but it's probably better if he doesn't end up singing praises to the Emperor in the great choir in the heaven just yet. He's actually useful, if only to draw attention to himself and away from her.

"Hey, nutter!" she shouts, and leans over the bench just for a second, in the direction of the unhinged man before ducking down again

I think I have something wrong on my character sheet... my laspistol fires only once, doesn't it? I can't do a semi auto burst? (If I can I will but I don't think so)

So, attack [roll0] and if by some miracle it hits, damage [roll1]

[ellna]

Tajah's shot flies wide, the madman rounds on her drawing up his lasgun. Before he can fire Gabriel looses another shot, the lasgun trembling in his injured arm, his lasbolt too flies wide. The nutter lacking any semblance of discipline fires as he spins his aim back to Gabriel, the result is for his burst to sail harmlessly into the space between Tajah and Gabriel. Over the wild screams of the unstable opponent Tajah hears;

"Frak'"

Gabriel spares a moment to glance back at Tajah and makes a motion with his arm, that causes him to visibly wince. He points at her then makes a circling motion with his finger.

More Combat back to Tajah... Both Gabriel and crazy miss miserably.

[Strawberries]

Circle him, got it, got it. Tajah casts a glance over the edge of the bench, looking for another place to get cover behind. She would very much to avoid getting shot while she follows Gabriel's directions. She finds what she's looking for a second later, another overturned table, this one spattered in blood and other even less pleasant material. She quickly assesses that the path is free before dashing for cover.

I'll be a good acolyte and obey orders, then, shall I? :smalltongue:

Moving wherever is close to him and I can take cover :smalltongue:, and then shooting him. If I need a double move, ignore the shooting part.

Again [roll0] and [roll1]

[ellna]

Tajah's shot catches the lunatic in the arm, causing him to whip his focus back to her. Unfortunately it was clear the shot had merely glanced him and been absorbed by the flak. Gabriel made use of the distraction weaving through the blood-soaked tables. The crazy man was caged between them, his situation now was hopeless. Still he roared, spluttering and choking as he disgorged his insanity. Then he fired, heedless of the sergeant behind him. A deadly trio of lasbolts fly straight at Tajah...

Tajah scores a hit, but no damage.
Gabriel full moves, The crazy is no between the two of you, Gabriel is in range to charge.

Crazy fires on Tajah scores 3 hits. The first two are soaked by your cover. The third hit will be hitting for 11 Damage in the arm. That's nine after Toughness reduction. :smalleek:

Tajah will be needing 2 Degrees of success on a dodge to avoid all three and escape the damage, not looking good.

[Strawberries]

It's not the first time Tajah has been shot at, and certainly not the first time she has been hurt, but for some reason, it always manages to catch her by surprise. She grimaces, blinded for a second by reflexive tears that have formed in her eyes from the pain, but manages to point her gun again in the general direction of the man and pull the trigger.

And one last time, I hope.

[roll0] and [roll1]

[ellna]

Tajah's lasbolt narrowly misses the lunatic, instead burning a small holes in the wall behind him. Gabriel is already moving, hopping over the low table that separates him from his quarry. The sergeant no longer carries his lasgun, instead wielding an intimidating pistol. His injured arm hangs limply at his side. The man, hearing Gabriel's rapid approach begins to spin around. Too slowly. Gabriel is less than a metre from him when he fires, the pistol barks. The effect is immediate, a loud boom echoes through the cold room rattling the teeth of the dead. Then the round hits, the table disintegrates into scathing shrapnel. Only one weapon could inflict such distinctive damage, a bolt pistol. Simply to carry such a weapon was a mark of pride and underhive gangs had fought and died over such prestigious icons of the imperium. For to own one meant certain death to your enemies and yet Gabriel had squandered his shot. Gabriel's eyes widen as he realised he had missed, the deranged man was untouched. As the smoke clears he is left standing at the mercy of his opponent. The man didn't even hesitate, he had been squeezing the weapon since he had started to spin and finally the lasgun spat out it's hot death. Another trio of red lashes scar the eyes, soundless in the ringing wake of Gabriel's shot. A heartbeat passes and Gabriel still stands... Not a single bolt had touched him. He smiles.

Pew pew. Tajah fires misses. Gab advances to point blank and MISSES omgarrrhd. Crazy nutcase fires(also point blank) and misses... So badly he would've jammed his gun were it not a realiable old lasgun.

Annnnd Tajah is up again.

[Strawberries]

Tajah is impressed by the gun, but only so far as it is something that will draw the crazy person to shoot at Gabriel instead of her. She is even less impressed when he spectacularly misses the target. Emperor, he's a piss poor shooter, he's even worse than me. As for herself, Tajah had always much more preferred to hide than shoot people. But it really seems like there's not much of a choice. She rushes ahead again, leaving the relative safety of the cover only the small time it takes her to get to another upturned table, hoping the closer distance will help her finally hit the crazy.

[roll0] and [roll1]

[ellna]

Tajah's lasblast flies true striking the lunatic across his shoulder. The searing energy burns through his ragged flak and his filthy flesh with equal ease. An agonising scream begins to form in his throat, as the pain twists his already ugly features. Gabriel shows no pity, remorse or hesitation and squeezes the trigger once again, still wearing a toothy grin. The deadly weapon roars again, twice in rapid succession. The twin explosions rip apart the madman, rending chunks of flesh and bone. His tattered body land in a wet mess on the ground and, with a note of grim horror, Tajah realised it still drew breath. Wet, sucking breaths that struggled to pass his own blood, which frothed and gurgled at each torturous exhalation. It screamed.

Gabriel kicked the lasgun away from the mewling mass of meat and looked towards Tajah. His scowl had once again claimed his face, pitted with disgust. Shrapnel, both bone and metal, stuck out from his armour and his wound glistened with a disgusting sheen. A note of worry crossed his face as the sergeant saw Tajah's injuries.

"Tajah, I thought I told you to keep you head down. Emperor save me, worse than a recruit. Get over here and guard this prisoner. Doc'! Doc'! Get yer arse in 'ere!"

Gabriel moved away from the puddle of viscera and swept towards the kitchens with the same military efficiency he had used prior. The kitchens were beyond a small swinging door and could be seen over the table-like food dispensing point. From what Tajah could see nothing lurked back there, except more corpses and flickering lights.

Combat is over. Doc is on route for Medicae. Gabriel is off clearing the room. The madman is very soon to be dead.91-00[roll0]

[Strawberries]

So all it took for the sergeant to call her by her name was getting shot. Tajah doesn't even deign him of an answer as she addresses him a look of absolute disgust. Yeah, and what's that gash in your arm, a bloody trick of the bloody light? She doesn't say it, but it's obvious that she's thinking it.

She approaches the prisoner with a pinched expression. She's seen way, way worse, but that doesn't mean that it is pleasant to witness someone in agony. "Sorry, mate, you should have put that gun down." she says by way of farewell, then with a quick look to make sure that Gabriel is distant enough not to stop her she puts the gun to his head and pulls the trigger.

I'm not rolling anything, but do feel free to roll for me if I need something.

[ellna]

"em... prah... f... give... me..."


The dying man spluttered feebly, his final words escaping between choked breaths. Tajah's laspistol flared, the fiery beam cutting through his skull and ending his life. The, now familiar, acrid smell of burning flesh rose from the limp body, mingling with Tajah's own burnt flesh and the assorted parade of meat that adorned the room. The keening wind fell silent and a heavy stillness settled over the corpse-strewn cafeteria. Tajah's breath seemed too noisy, too loud, as though the they disturbed the unblinking dead. This place was a mausoleum. No, not a mausoleum, there the dead rested. This was a slaughterhouse. The bodies lay strewn haphazardly, bearing a plethora of injuries. Some showed the clear burns of las-fire while others bore viscous rents. Death had not been an end to the injuries either, these bodies had been mutilated. Limbs had been torn from their sockets, once human faces had been sliced beyond recognition, skin was folded back; peeled and flayed; and organs were scattered like decorations about the grisly spectacle. Nearby, knocked from it's perch in the commotion, a severed leg rested. It had been torn to the bone and Tajah's eyes rested on one detail. A tooth. Embedded in the flesh, the peculiar shape of the wound suddenly made horrifying sense, bite marks. These bodies hadn't just been torn they had been eaten.

The doctor's arrival was heralded by squelching footsteps, as the pooling blood seeped beneath his elegant boots. The menagerie of death didn't seem to phase the doctor and his eyes swept, uncaring, over the room. He set to work on Tajah's injury without comment, placing his medicae kit down on the blood-soaked floor and brusquely wiping the glossy burn with medical oils and unguents. The injury was quickly and efficiently cleaned before being tightly bound in pristine bandaging. Lexus' hands were steady, however the man himself was nervous. Tajah was making him nervous. A whispered prayer passed his lips, bargaining for his soul.

The scrivener, also being drawn by Gabriel's shout, now shuffled awkwardly amid the corpses. His blank stare mirrored the empty eyes of the dead. The heavy winter coat was now worn properly, his skeletal hands poking out from the sleeves. His quill continued to fly across the blank pages, filling them with the same indecipherable runes.

A prickling sensation, crawled unpleasantly over Tajah as Gabriel returned. His lips were thin white lines, the heavy disgust on his face hinted at another cause of revilement, beyond Tajah. He had collected a spare lasgun, his own slung over his shoulder. The bolt pistol was still held in his good hand, gleaming filigree adorning the sides of the monstrous weapon. He looks down at the corpse at Tajah's feet, his lip curling, but makes no comment instead turning to the doctor. He addresses Lexus, as though Tajah did not exist.

"Can the scrag still fight?"

Lexus glanced nervously at Tajah, in truth his ministrations had not done much to improve her condition. The doctor considered his response for a moment, looking fearfully at the lasgun which Gabriel offered, before giving his response.

"Yes, she is combat effective."

So Various results, The doctor's Medicae restores 0 HP.
Psyniscience reveals... nothing suspicous.
WP test is passed and nothing suspicous occurs.

[Strawberries]

Tajah is visibly unconfortable with getting examined, to the point of almost drawing back a few times. And, as usual when she's uncomfortable, her reaction is to lash out. It's the prayer that finally does it. "It isn't som'thing y' can catch, y'nnow?" she snaps to the doctor before she can bite her tongue. Bad idea, Tajah. Bad, bad idea. He's a doctor, and doctors are actually somebody you really don't want to get on the bad side of.

Even more self-conscious now because of the mistake she made, she gives Gabriel a dirty look We're back to that, aren't we?, then she crosses her arms in front of her chest with a muttered "Nex' time, I migh' not both'r to get shot for you" and gets up and to examine the severed leg that has attracted her attention before. She has to do something to avoid the eyes on her - she hates when people stare.

"Wh' s he done, he's eatin' them raw?" she wonders out loud. "Dinn' even both'r to cut th'm up first?"That's...weird. And Tajah has seen some pretty weird things in her life. She bends down to have a closer look, then takes out a little knife and uses it to dislodge the tooth from the flesh. Should anybody bother looking, they'd notice the knife's handle has the mark of the scolastica psykana on it, the open eye engraved on the front of the Imperial Aquila. She looks at the tooth for a moment, then hands it over to Lexus "Doc'tr, y' think y' can check if that's his?"

Er, I'm not particularly clear on one point: is the lasgun being handed to me or to the doctor? If it's to me, I'll take it - well, she'll yank it away from his hand before getting up, and she won't thank him either. When she's upset or embarrassed Tajah reverts straight back to her underhive tough girl persona, I'm afraid. :smallwink:

[ellna]

The doctor reacts strongly to Tajah's quip. He recoils sharply, as though her skin had burnt his hands. His fervent praying paused for a moment, once again leaving the wind and scratching quill as the only sounds echoing through the frozen outpost. For that fleeting moment, something dangerous could be caught in his eyes; not fear or apprehension, but a cold, calculating scorn. It seemed to drip with overt condescension. The flickering light glinted of the cold edges of surgical implements, laid out inches from his fingers. The moment passed so quickly, it almost seemed imagined... almost. The doctor returned to his work, a look of wary terror worn on his face. The praying restarts, as though nothing had happened.



"Nex' time, I migh' not both'r to get shot for you"

Gabriel says nothing simply handing Tajah the lasgun. Either he was ignoring her or just didn't catch the muttered remark. When Tajah snatches the weapon from his injured arm, he grunts in pain. He tries to conceal it, but it's clear that the wound was causing him some discomfort. A look of concern flashes across the Doctor's face as he notices, however before he can move to help the sergeant shoots him a fierce look.

"Wh' s he done, he's eatin' them raw? Dinn' even both'r to cut th'm up first?"

The colour fades from Gabriel and he slumps slightly, leaning heavily on a table. His hand covers his faces as he pinches the bridge of his nose, the over-sized winter gloves making the scene somewhat comical. From behind the gloves, he speaks his voice cracking slightly.

"No, not raw. He was cooking them in the kitchen, he was... he..."

The sergeant clears his throat and composes himself. Soon the standard issue guardsman stood tall again and his voice remembered it's strength. His stormy demeanour just as pleasant as ever.

"He ran out of fuel, or maybe just ran out of wits. It doesn't matter he's dead and we've got a mission. Trust a scrag to care, anyway."

The sergeant prepared to move out, stowing the gleaming bolt pistol and preparing his lasgun. As they moved to leave, the doctor called out to Tajah. The tooth held pinched in his delicate fingers.

"Human, defiantly. A mandibular canine I believe. It well could be his, but not much left to compare it too I'm afraid."

[Strawberries]

Tajah's expression softens slightly when Gabriel winces in pain "I'd get that check'd out, mate, no point playin' though guy." she advises, but then, of course, he just demonstrates again how big of an ******** he is, and she goes back to frown at him.

" It doesn't matter he's dead and we've got a mission. Trust a scrag to care, anyway"

"Yeah? So what, s'mebody's eating imperial guards an' you don't want to figure out why? Or who th's Krast he mention'd is?"

[ellna]

"Of course I want ta' figure it out. You see anyone here giving answers. Perhaps' him... Oh wait, no he's dead. Maybe this one... nope he's dead too. So unless you've got something to add shut your mouth and fall in. We will continue until we find our wheels,or some-one still breathing with enough brains to say yes sir. An' as ta' who's Krast, he could be a tit-sucking frakhead and wouldn't change our orders. Orders I intend to follow, to the letter."

Gabriel stares at Tajah, resentment burning brightly in his eyes. His eyes threaten to burst free off their sockets before he turns away, beneath his heel dried blood cracks as he marches out off the corpse-choked cantina.



Returning to the central room, Gabriel searches every corner. The outer door still stands open, the gale outside whistling through the rusted gates. Beyond them the snow continues to lash the ground, ice swept wind driving it violently inside. Their snowy footprints had already been swept away, their passing forgotten. The soft lights flicker at each gust and Gabriel's flash-light pierces the dark shadows which ebb and wane, seeming to posses a life of their own. The inner door still stands closed, silent and imposing. As the torch light plays over it's surface the true extent of the damage is revealed. The two halves of the massive door had been completely fused together. It was a mess; trickles of metal ran down the door like sweat, trapped in place as the molten metal had cooled, pooling metal had formed a ugly puddle at the base and the entire surface was distorted and warped, unmoving bubbles frothing beneath the surface. The whole thing seemed to shift nauseously, as the light moved across it. Something still felt uneasy, lurking at the edge of perception, causing hairs to rise. Gabriel growled in frustration, throwing the discarded welding unit back down. It was completely empty, nothing left. Beside the vast door a control panel threw spluttering sparks out, the cause was immediately apparent. A shaft of metal had been thrust through the control panel. Still visible on the cracked surface, letters were readable.


OPEN

Beside the door controls a series of smaller machines lay, wires running up the walls like dark serpents and disappearing from sight amid the darkness of the ceiling. Gabriel grabs the jagged metal that had destroyed the main panel, recoiling quickly when it sent sparks through his thick gloves.

"Frak"

Gabriel continues his sweep through the outpost, closing on the smaller door on the right wall. Similar in size to the one that had lead to the mess hall. He slid into the cover of the doorway and prepared to open it in the same manner as before. His fist counted fingers down, wincing in pain at each movement. Three. Two. One.



http://fc09.deviantart.net/fs71/f/2012/113/e/e/cables_by_joakimolofsson-d4xboy0.jpg (http://joakimolofsson.deviantart.com/art/Cables-297837576)

The door swings open to reveal an empty corridor leading away into darkness. Gabriel's flash-light shines into the heavy gloom, the lamps lining the walls are dark and unlit. Metal peels from the walls, ice hangs from the rusted pipes that pass above and torn cabling hangs limply. Proceeding deeper into the darkness each step crunches loudly as the thin sheet of ice cracks and breaks underfoot, the noise echoes down the long corridor. Doors run along the side of this frozen coffin, Gabriel pauses beside each and forces them open. Clearing the every room with mechanical precision, his light illuminating the dark recesses. Behind the first door was a cramped room filled with mops, brushes and cleaning solvents. The next proved to be a frost-covered storeroom, shelves broken and overturned. Each door creaked open to reveal more miscellaneous detritus. The toilets, when opened unleashed a foul and fetid stench which stung the nose and brought tears to the eyes.

The corridor, abruptly terminated in a heavy door, unlike the others it bore a securing wheel. It was jammed with a lasgun, that had buckled and twisted. Gabriel, continued to clear the rooms proceeding this heavier door and the last door in his search cracked open to reveal something other than paltry sundries. A corpse lay splayed face down, but this one wore a heavy red robe rather than the uniforms that adorned the previous bodies. As the torch flashes over the remains the cog-wheel of the Adeptus Mechanicus can be seen amid the crimson robe. The room is filled with dormant machines, beneath the icy layer that coats the floor lay thick cables. Further into the room a furnace can be spotted, cold and forgotten. The light catches off the Mechanicus' hand, metallic and unfeeling, which was outstretched as though the man in life had been crawling towards something. Gabriel grunts as he moves away, towards the heavier door.

The heavier door takes a concerted effort to open. The mangled lasgun has to be smashed free as ice has formed around it. The wheel barely moves at first and fluids weep out of Gabriel's arm as he attempts to turn it. Then a cracking sound is heard and the wheel budges an inch. Then another. Eventually the door clicks signalling it's readiness to open, still simply opening the door takes another exertion from the sergeant. More ice cracks and falls as the door screeches open. A blast of freezing air emerges from beyond the door. Colder still than the the frozen wasteland of the planet's surface, it couldn't be natural. Just within the door corpses lay, their skin white with frost. They had succumbed to the wretched cold and were frozen, huddled together. Gabriel ignores these bodies and presses forward.

Beyond the door the bone-chilling cold permeates every breath. Piercing through, even the thick winter garb. A staircase rises up, climbing higher into the guard outpost. The darkness fled before the waning flash-light and rushed into fill the void as it passed. The next floor opened up to reveal a barracks, row after row of bunk beds extended as far as the torch could shine. Corpses filled the frozen room, easily a hundred or more. Everywhere their final moments could be seen fixed in ice. Huddled around las-pack powered heaters, tucked beneath heavy covers or simply knelt in prayer waiting for the inevitable. Gabriel continued, grim-faced, between the beds searching for something, anything perhaps. The icy chill persisted, sinking it's teeth through flesh with an unfathomable patience. Gabriel at last was forced to concede the hunt an retreat to the warmer lower levels, before his fingers ceased to be able to squeeze a trigger.



Back in the main room the temperature was at least bearable, but the planet's insufferable chill offered no respite from the deadly cold of the upper floors. The wind continued to whistle through the yawning doors. However something else had begun to trickle through the entrance, the heavily muscled labourer's of the Adeptus Munitorum who looked much worse for the trek through the blizzard, lugging heavy crates between them. They stood now catching there breath and milling about, obviously confused. A couple had leapt on top of a crate, using it as a make-shift bench, and were chatting leisurely. An especially angry sounding chap was berating Lexus, while the good doctor tried to placate him. A look of hope crossed the doctor's face when Gabriel returned. The brief jaunt through the horror's of the upper floor's had taken a toll on the sergeant, his signature scowl had been replaced with a weary tiredness. That quickly changed when he saw the Munitorum.

"Listen up!"

Gabriel bellowed at the top of his lungs. The Adeptus Munitorum continues chattering, arguing and milling about. Only a few actually stopped and took note of him, the doctor was making his way towards the sergeant and the man who had been plaguing him still circled him like a buzzard. Gabriel growled and fired his lasgun at the ceiling, the searing burst of energy caught everyone's attention, silence finally descending across the gathering.

"Good, that's better. I'm Sergeant Aipopo and unless one of you frakheads has the slightest clue what's going on, I'm the one giving orders. Now shut up and break out your weapons, I want a ten man squad ready in two minutes. Is that clear."

This was met with a general murmur that ran through the crowd, coalescing into action as eventually one fellow called out. "Well, let's find the crate with the las in then." The burly rabble quickly set to check the boxes they had just trudged through the snow, meanwhile Lexus reaches Gabriel.

"Ah Gabriel, good did you find the commander..."

The man that had followed the doctor didn't let him finish, butting in loudly.

"Just who do you think you are..."

"Ah yes Gabriel let me introduce you to..."

"I can introduce myself, I'm in command of these men, I am Master Sergeant Brooms and I demand a report I've a lot of cargo to unload and precious little time to lolly-gag."

"Well, Master Sergeant, with all due respect..."

"Don't you due respect me boy, You've a lot of gall giving orders to my men. Where's your superior."

"You don't understand the..."

"No you don't understand, I'll have you up on charges if you keep interrupting me..."

Gabriel's swing came suddenly, the butt of his lasgun cracking across the portly man's nose and knocking him to the ground.

"Frak'n save it quartermaster. If you don't shut your mouth I'll spit you on an icicle and leave your blotted carcass on this frozen rock. You sad sack of ****! My report is over two hundred guard are dead and I don't have time for your' bull****! Now get up and make yourself useful, get that door open."

The Master Sergeant beat a fast retreat, his face quickly turning red as the promise of retribution flashed in his eyes. Gabriel sagged slightly and allowed the Doctor to tend to his wounds while the mob of Munitorum worker's busied themselves with their assigned tasks...

Tum de dee tum...

[Strawberries]

Tajah follows Gabriel, in silence for once, gripping her new lasgun and scowling to hide the discomfort. She shivers in the cold, but doesn't complain, opting just to keep her eyes open and her guard high. She still doesn't like this, she hates this, in fact, but it is a matter of survival, something that Tajah has always hold quite dear...so she stays silent and focuses on the crunchy noise her boots make on the icy floor. She's seen enough ugly deaths, both in the Underhive and on Terra, that corpses don't bother her, much. The cold, however is another story... and the silence, as well, doesn't help matter much. It's freaky, even for Tajah, that has seen and done quite a good share of freaky things.

She doesn't bother to hide her relief when she sees the Munitorum. I was starting to think they were all dead, and she doesn't intervene at the little scene between Gabriel and their commander, except when it's over, just to drawl mockingly "Well done, that's lead'ship, sir." She doesn't wait for him to reply, though, scanning around for somebody that seems slightly more friendly, less busy, or preferably both.

"Hey mate" she approaches when she spots a suitable candidate "Y' don't happ'n to have a smoke, d'you?"

I'll roll a Search [roll0] vs 32, just to keep her eyes open while she's following Gabriel

Also, Fellowship? [roll1] vs 42
If it works, she's definitely planning to ask some questions. :smallsmile:

[ellna]

As the Adeptus Munitorum begin to show some sign of activity, lounging men slowly responding to the orders of the boisterous Broom. The fiery glow from a lit lho-stick marks a likely candidate for Tajah's approach. The heavy set man still lent heavily against a crate, exhaling puffs of smoke while others grumbled and searched through supplies to meet the demands of their superiors.

"Nah, Sorry. This' is me last one..." Initially the man's response doesn't seem to pay any attention to Tajah, but then when he realises who asked he take more interest. "Hey wait, you're with that loud *******. I'll trade you this one for a glimmer of what's going on." He holds out the lho-stick he was sucking on.

Searching turns up nothing, whether Tajah didn't find anything or nothing was there to find...

[Strawberries]

Tajah smiles as she accepts the lho-stick. It's been a while since she last had one. "Nah, mate, we'll share" she replies, taking a drag from it and passing it back to him. She basks in the pleasant buzz of the smoke for a second, then she shrugs "Hell if I kno', though. I'm jus' here t' do the heavy lift'ng, right? We come down here, place's full of dead g'ardsmen, the only one who's m'ving is a bloody madm'n that starts shooting at us. So yeah, y' can imagine the sergeant has a bee in his bonnet about that" She gestures to her bandaged arm, to show that she's telling the truth. "Say mate, do y' know who Krast is? It's ta only thin' that ****er said to us when he was trying to blast our heads off."

[ellna]

He takes back his rapidly diminishing Lho-stick. It was the cheap sort that always found their way into dirty hands, the small stub looked almost comical in his massive winter gloves. He took a couple of puffs before he spoke again.

"Krast. Nah ain't no-one I've ever heard of. Though they don't tell us lifters much. Everyone dead, I don't like to think what could send a couple thousand loyal souls ta' the emperor."

He doesn't pass back the lho-stick, simply continuing to puff on it's dying light. Over towards the door sparks flew as the Adeptus Munitorum worked to undo the work that had sealed the vast bulwark. They had managed to scrounge up some whirring and buzzing machine whose spirit growled in protest as it cut through the twisted metal.

Gabriel had seemingly been patched up my the good doctor, who lurked beside the still scratching scribe. The sergeant was now busy organising a squad. Loudly shouting at a poor unfortunate who clearly had never held a lasgun before, let alone fired one.

[Strawberries]

"Yeah, I know where y' coming from, mate" Tajah shrugs, all the while watching Gabriel organizing the squad. Is he seriously recruiting people that are more likely to shoot themselves than the threats? She'll go there in a minute, and she has no doubt that the Sergeant will call her sooner rather than later, but she has another question to ask. "Was ev'rything right before you left, tho? I mean, nothin' strange you noticed or anything?"

[ellna]

"Strange? No, nothing strange. To busy to be noticing anything." He sighs as he tries to take a puff from the dead lho-stick, tossing the stub on the ground.

[Strawberries]

"Yeah, y' right. Ta, mate." Tajah gives a wistful look at the remains of the lho stick on the floor. She doubts she'll get another any time soon. With a sigh, she moves in the direction of Gabriel and the door.

[ellna]

As Tajah splits from her smoking buddy, he suddenly looks busy. Even though he clearly, to her eyes, had no intention of any serious assistance. Gabriel spotted Tajah as she picked her way towards him and scowled heavily.

"And you... Fall in Tajah."

For a moment it seemed like he had special beratement just for Tajah, but it seemed he would settle for lumping her in with the Adeptus and subjecting her to the same angry drill sergeant routine.

The grinding, whirring, screech of the machine spirit against the implacable door was punctuated by a scream as an intense spark was flung into his unprotected eye. He fell, the cutter falling to the ground and eventually becoming silent. The damage to the man's eye was readily apparent, the hot metal having cut deep and the skin bubbling like the door itself. For a moment the chatter died down, leaving only the man's screams and the howling of the wind.

"Quit your yawing. You two grab him, you take his place. I want that door open. Well what you standing about for move."

The shock broken, people quickly jumped to Gabriel's instructions. The screaming man was dragged away from the door which almost seemed to be mocking the man with it's silence. Lexus quickly set to work, trying to save the man, if not his eye which was beyond hope. As the grind of the machine started up again the low chatter returned.

"... Unnatural..."

It was another ten minutes before the door was ready to open, the sparking control panel had been mended enough that Brooms had assured Gabriel that it would open. Judging by the colourful language the mechanic, who had been assigned the task, had used it had not been an easy task. The squad formed up ready to proceed into the unknown an uneasy murmur running between each man. Gabriel glowered at each of them, his scowl lingering especially on Tajah, before signalling the door to be opened.



Sparks flew from the command console and the sound of gears straining to turn could be heard. The metal protested, a discordant squealing which grated at the ears. Then the doors began to pull apart, each inch gained came with another shriek of metal against metal. As the seal was broken a stench billowed out. The stench of rotten flesh, rank and warm. Far worse that the cold smell of the cafeteria, this had a thickness all of it's own. It wormed heavily into the noses of each man and there it settled unwilling to be budged. As the doors opened further lights could be seen shining out at them, behind them sat only darkness, descending deeper beyond. Gabriel played his own light into the widening door revealing grim faces set behind each light. Waiting for them just behind the door was a squad of imperial guard. As they had lined up to face the opening door so too had the guard. Both sides waited standing still as the door continued to slide, noisily open. Weapons trained nervously. When the door finally ceased to destroy their ears Gabriel called out, with more confidence than he likely had.

"Identify yourselves."

From the opposing side, a figure stepped out into the light. His peaked cap immediately recognisable; a dark coat hung from him, it's epaulets neat and tidy, contrasting his ragged appearance. The weapon he held in his hand, a bolt pistol, cried out for respect. He allowed himself to be seen, allowed himself to be realised before he spoke. With a confidence that could not be faked.

"We are the first Pleegawan infantry. You are addressing Commissar Holt. I believe the question is who are you."

Gabriel had tensed up the moment the commissar had stepped into the light, a pale chill on his face. A moment passed and he didn't speak...

Do-de-do-de-dum.

Current situation is hundred guard or so on the other side of the door have lasguns trained on the squad Gabriel put together. The guard have sand bags and are neatly formed up.

[Strawberries]

"And you... Fall in Tajah."

Tajah is about to flash him a very rude gesture, but restrains herself. At least, he hasn't outed her in front of the whole Adepti Munitorium.... something she wouldn't have put past him. It's not like he hasn't demonstrated to have his head firmly lodged in his behind, so far.

How far said head is lodged in said behind is further demonstrated a moment later "****" she swears quietly to herself, with an accusing look to Gabriel Great job, ********. I'm sure people'd love to plant a bullet in your back right about now That's what Tajah herself feels half tempted to.

She curbs her urge to pace in the time that the door takes to open, which means she's right beside Gabriel when it does open only to reveal weapon pointed against them, and she has the priviledge of having a very close perspective of him freezing up. Seriously? I mean, SERIOUSLY?

"Hey, whoa!" she interjects, quickly, raising her hands to show she's not armed "No need t' get ansty, mate. This lot're adepti m'nitorium, alright? Com'on mate, we're all on ta same side here."

Fellowship! [roll0] vs 42

[Strawberries]

I'll fate point that, shall I? [roll0] vs 42

EDIT: well, apparently it has to go wrong. Bring it on, then. :smalltongue:

[ellna]

The Commissar doesn't react immediately to Tajah's announcement, however the Imperial Guard behind him are not as disciplined. They begin to murmur hopefully, unsure whether to trust what they have just heard. As the chatter grows Holt strides forward towards Tajah, a sour expression twisting his face.

"Lower your guns. Now."

The hastily cobbled together squad of the Adeptus Munitorum all hastily lower their lasguns, as if suddenly embarrassed to have them raised, one even drops his weapon the weapon clattering noisily on the ground. The Commissar's tone carries to practised aura of command. Reaching the firing line he addresses Tajah, while his eyes look past her surveying the scene. He clearly spots the Munitorum crates and the other labourers, loitering.

"Name and Rank, soldier."

[Strawberries]

"Who, me?" Tajah shifts her weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other. Why is that guy focusing on her, anyway. Most people classify her as underhive trash to the first glance and don't bother looking further, which suites her quite well. "You don't want me, he's your guy. Soldier and ev'rything." she drawls out pointing to Gabriel "Name's Tajah, but I'm no soldier, see? Just here 'cause this lot's paying me, mate."

[ellna]

Commissar Holt turns to face Gabriel, who looks extremely uneasy at the close scrutiny. The commissar doesn't spare another word or glance for Tajah. A moment of heavy silence passes as Holt clearly looks up and down Gabriel, like a newborn babe with no wits of his own. Then he repeats his question with a dangerous hint of thinning patience.

"Name and Rank."

Gabriel responds, practically blurting his response out.

"Gabriel Aipopo. Sergeant."

The words seem to rouse Gabriel as if he's surprised to hear them come from his own lips, as though they had betrayed him. Military discipline had been drilled into him so deep it was now instinctual for him. At least he seemed to remember himself and found the words to continue.

"I, and my men are here on a special assignment. We... the Adeptus Munitorum have provided transport aboard The Anvil of Perdition. Which now sits in orbit. Master Sergeant Brooms is the ranking officer here and in command of the resupply. I assumed command, as... the situation was unexpected. You're the first living, sane members of the first Pleegawan Infantry we've seen... There was one survivor we encountered, alive in body but not in mind... Now decease... Everywhere else there's just corpses. I've sealed orders for the commander... if he still lives, Sir?"

Gabriel spoke with none of his usual strength, pausing frequently and looking to the Commissar, as if for permission to continue. Holt for his part stood there patiently, listening until the Sergeant had pieced together a complete story. When finally Gabriel had finished, Holt turned slightly as if noticing Broom for the first time before responding to Gabriel.

"Special Assignment, indeed? I'm afraid the commander is dead. Can I see your orders, Sergeant."

The commissar's tone is questioning, but it is clearly a command. Gabriel produces the thick sheath of papers bearing the mark of the chief quartermaster. Holt accepts these and quickly reads the heavy parchment an eyebrow raising as he does. He passes them over to Gabriel and assumes a more business like tone.

"Well, you have your orders I'm sure Sergeant. Speak with Commissar Krast, he is in command now. Private Jenkins, Private Williams" Two imperial guardsmen ran over from his line, with an frenzied haste. "See this man and his Squad to the Commander."

Commissar Holt then turns and begins striding towards Master Sergeant Brooms.

"Master Sergeant Brooms, I sincerely hope you aren't to blame for this slovenly arrival...

[Strawberries]

Tajah is very careful to keep a straight face, even if she has the insane urge to snicker at the captain's discomfort. It doesn't last long, just enough for the commissar to turn away "Wha', not such a cool baddass soldier anymore?" she taunts. "What's the deal with you, anyway? I didn't think he was that scary."

[ellna]

Gabriel's face swings wildly from pale as ash to a brilliant red, anger forcing blood to rush to his cheeks. His clenched fist leaps up and for a moment it seems as though he might strike Tajah, but instead it just hovers there impotently as the tension is clearly visible. The veins that run up his neck stand out as though it were thick cables that ran beneath his skin. Eventually his trembling arm is lowered and Gabriel shoots Tajah the filthiest look he can manage, piled high with hatred and loathing. It conjures the image of a rabid dog straining against it's collar, defeated, knowing it can't break free.

"That's because as always you know nothing. A commissar is death, an' a law unto himself beneath the emperor."

Gabriel mutters the words at Tajah, spite drowning each syllable. The words don't seem to give him any victory or comfort rather his face contorts in distaste and he turns away. As the two privates present themselves Gabriel gives a brusque gesture and pushes past them.

The two privates are grubby individuals covered in months of accumulated filth. Their Imperial Flak Armour rest beneath the grime and the thick odour that rises from them tells Tajah they likely haven't stepped out of it in a long while. Both Jenkins and Williams are sturdily built and easily tower over Tajah's slight frame. As Gabriel storms off the trooper identified as Jenkins hastens after him while Williams falls in beside Tajah, cradling her lasgun like a babe. Behind Tajah, Lexus and the scribe emerge catching up as the squad proceeds deeper into the complex.

"So you're with the munitorum. They brought food?"

That was Private Williams, her voice marking her as a woman though nothing about her appearance did. She seemed curious, suspicious even a little... hopeful, perhaps.

[Strawberries]

Tajah scoffs, unimpressed. Somebody having power of life and death over them and the sergeant was pissing himself. So what else is new? There have been people wielding absolute power of life and death over Tajah since she was twelve. After a while, you don't even let it influence your life anymore. "Wanker." She mutters behind him. It's a fair bet that he's probably able to hear it.

She almost smiles at the private asking about food. Almost. She can definitely recognise the sentiment from her time in the underhive. "Couldn't tell you. Think so. They had lots of crates, tha's for sure. Name's Tajah, by the way, sis. Say, who's this C'mmissar Krast, anyway?" Another one with life and death power, no doubt.

[ellna]

William's demeanour changes at the mere mention of Krast. Suddenly the cavernous walls become extremely interesting as she shifts her gaze away. When she speaks again it's low and terse, almost nervous.

"He's in charge. I'm taking you ta' see 'im ain't I."

A sullen silence follows her words and she seems unwilling to speak further, so the journey proceeds in a heavy tone. The quiet only disturbed by the crunch of ice beneath their boots and the ever-present scratch of the scribes quill. Echoing down the descending tunnel of frost the whining voice of Master Sergeant Broom can be heard, the strange acoustics giving it a eerie edge.

http://fc02.deviantart.net/fs71/i/2011/136/6/0/cave_by_u2644-d3gigv7.jpg (http://tituslunter.deviantart.com/art/Cave-209134051)

[ellna]

The icy burrow is illuminated by the escort's torchlight, flickering amid frozen crystals. Soon the echoing sounds behind give way to a new wave of noise rising from the depths. Many voices chattering away, quietly, franticly, each word twisting into alien shapes in the gloom. With this crept the rank stench of sweat and flesh. The stew of human odours, formed by bodies living packed beneath the surface. Laced through this miasma was a harsher stink, one that clawed at the nostrils and tugged at the conscious mind. Rot, decay and pestilence. The caustic brew all too common in the Imperium, but here it had festered and seemed to have a mind of it's own seeping through everything. As the lights from below come into sight, creating a glistening spectacle amid the ice crystals, the smell only grows stronger. It feels like an oppressive presence clinging to the soul.

A final twist of the tunnel brings the gleaming lights and muted sounds of the Imperial Guard camp into full view. A massive cavern stretches out ahead, so vast that the ceiling is wreathed in shadows. The harsh radiance of military flood lighting struggling to entirely pierce the subterranean forest of stalactites. From these rime-covered daggers droplets of water drip, glittering as they fall, clear and pure. Then they land and mingle with the filth, serving only to add a rancid humidity to the human atmosphere. Beneath this icy canopy row after row of tents lie in a shambling mockery of parade ground neatness. Each tent was imperial grey, almost blending in with the frosted rock they were nailed into. Each was worn and frayed, patched in many places. Each played host to a swarm of ragged Guardsmen that moved meanderingly, seemingly without any true purpose. So many massed bodies generated a uncomfortable warmth, or rather a lessening of the numbing cold, that caused the heavy winter garb slowly to become sticky with sweat. Only the scribe is unaffected by the change in climate, despite the thick coat now set on his shoulders.

Directly ahead is a checkpoint, much like the one above. Complete with sandbags and massed lasguns with warm bodies holding them. There is even a pair of large heavy weapons that look as though they belong on something with armoured treads. They are squarely pointed at the tunnel's exit and flickering flames burp from their blackened barrels. Both have crews slouched at their bases, watching the approaching people with hungry eyes. In fact all the troopers manning the checkpoint are slouched or sitting or lying down, but all their eyes follow Tajah and her companions. Curious and wary. The one thing lacking was something resembling an officer, which went part-ways to explaining the general disarray. Jenkins strode up and exchanged words with someone and with a quick nod of heads the group was allowed through. As Tajah passes the man Jenkins had spoken to Sergeant's stripes are visible on his arm, though nothing about his bearing or Jenkins tone with him seemed to convey any tangible authority.

"...Munitorum have landed..."

"...They've brought home the bacon..."

"...Blessed Emperor..."

Murmurs begin as they pass through. The sprawled individuals seem to come alive, chatting about the newest rumour. As they proceed through the rows of tents, led through the winding filth by the two privates, the wave of rumours crests ahead of them. Snippets of conversation heard in passing spread like wildfire through the encampment and at each turn scrawny faces peer at them. Here amid the packed tents the smell of festering flesh has a cloying thickness, every guardsman is racked and pock-marked. Their skin drawn taunt over thick corded muscles, each breath a new assault on the nasal passages. They look sickly, like starving rabid dogs and everywhere their eyes follow these newcomers. Tajah catches the glimmer of hope in more than a few eyes, but also a wary fear. Curiously for this veritable legion of Imperial soldiers, there are few weapons to be seen. In fact down amid the tents the only lasguns are carried by the escorting privates, who seem unreasonably tense.

The first warning is the localised silence, like naughty children caught in the act. A pair of guardsmen struggle violently, the view flits in and out as tents conceal the drama. The jeering crowd of onlookers had stopped, their chanting quashed in a instant. The cause is quickly apparent as a squad of five brutish men push through the tangle of people. They bear heavy black armour and savagely bludgeon those to slow to move from there path. A whip crack carries across the tents as Williams and Jenkins double their pace leaving the unfolding scene behind. Soon though a crack of thunder is heard and then a second, gunshots. They ring out loudly casting a spell of silence over the chattering camp, which persists only for a second or two before cautiously voices start up again.

"...Who do you reckon it was this time?..."



The commander's tent is immediately apparent as they begin to approach it. It is larger than the other by a large portion, likely large enough to house a small aircraft. A perimeter of guards, decked out in the same battered black armour, surrounded the seat of power. Their weapon's hummed dangerously as they sucked power from back-pack mounted capacitors. These men filled their armour, muscles practically bulging at the straps and sweat dripping from their meaty brows. They greeted the approaching party with barely restrained hostility, weapons ready and fingers twitchy. However when no excuse to act materialised they grudgingly accepted Jenkins' platitudes and parted, just long enough to allow them to pass. One of the grisly giants shoved the scribe as he passed, with that honed instinct to prey on the helpless, causing he to stagger wildly and drop to the floor clutching his tome to his chest. It was a moment before he picked himself up, unsteadily, and scratched something down on the empty parchment before continuing after the others.

Pushing through the tent's faded flaps they entered the heart of this garrison. Commissar Krast stood behind a table piled high with paperwork. The man himself, looked very... worn. His hair, cut short, was greying. Stubble shaded his jaw and heavy bags hung from his eyes. He didn't look up immediately from whatever troubling flap of paper irked him currently.

"Yes?"

The question leapt from his lips and seemed to posses a life of its own. It hung in the air like a growling beast, waiting for a victim. His voice was low and heavy, but a weariness could be heard in his tone, an impatience.

It was William's who answered. It seemed as though she had gulped before stepping forward, but that could of been a figment of the imagination.

"Private Willaims. Sir. Sent by Commissar Holt. Sir. Offworlders, claim to be Munitorum. Sir "

At this an eyebrow rose, then Commissar Krast looked up. His eyes lashing over each of the Inquisition agent with a cold calculation. He straightened up and stepped out from behind his desk. His clothing echoed Commissar Holts; the peaked cap, the epaulets. However it was faded, frayed. The glided hilt of a sword hung casually at his side, the shining lustre dimmed and chipped. This man seemed as though he had been drawn too fine, pulled too wide and he looked all the worse for it. Yet still everything somehow bore the potent edge of a threat. Courage seemed to evaporate before him, shrivelling meekly and crawling away. Beneath the sour bite of stale recaf a dangerous core burned, too hot to avoid...

[Strawberries]

After a couple unsuccessful attempts to carry on a conversation with private William Tajah just shuts up and follows in silence.

There is something strange. Why the soldiers are unarmed, why do they seem frightened and why is it so bloody cold? Tajah shivers, partly for the cold and partly for an uneasiness that she wouldn't be able to explain, and crosses her arms in front of her, instinctively hugging herself. A second after she brings her hands back in her pocket, angry at her own idiocy. Stop it, now, you're not a bloody child anymore.

The feeling doesn't abate when they get in sight of the commander tent, in fact, it gets so much stronger that Tajah has to swallow against the sudden nausea at the back of her throat. She doesn't know what is happening, exactly, but she knows that is nothing good. She's had this feeling before, on Terra, the sudden psychic impression that something wasn't right, usually immediately before something horrible was about to happen, and the memory makes her take a couple step backwards, effectively putting Gabriel between the Commissar and herself. She catches herself just in time and stops before her retreat can look any more evident, putting a scowl on her face to mask the uneasiness, and waits for Gabriel to explain their orders. He told us to let him do the talking, he can do his bloody talking.

Sorry for the delay, and I realise that having the NPC do the talking isn't ideal, but really, it's the most IC thing I can do right now, especially after that botched roll. There'll be plenty of opportunity for Tajah to take control of the situation, I bet. :smallsmile:

[ellna]

The Commissar took another step forward his gaze locked on Gabriel, the Sergeant stepped back anxious to keep his distance. However his retreat is soon brought up short when he bumps into Tajah and is forced to face Krast's quizzical brow. A short silence reigns momentarily as Krast's expression quickly changes to impatience.

"Well Sergeant. I going to have to guess. Report!"

His tone causes Gabriel to flinch as though slapped. His arm jumps up to salute and he begins stumbling over his words to explain himself.

"Yes sir. No sir. I mean yes sir. Sir. Sergeant Gabriel Aipopo, reporting Sir. We arrived with the munitorum sir. But we're not with sir. I mean we were with them sir. But our mission isn't with them sir. They were just our ride sir. We're here to..."

At this point Krast interrupts, anger flaring in his voice.

"You're not the Adeptus Munitorum. I want to speak with whatever fool is in charge of our resupply. Now! Stop wasting my time and bring him here."

Gabriel's mouth flaps up and down several times, but his feet betray him. They are already busy spinning him around and marching him out of the tent. Lexus steps forward, his hand firmly planting on Gabriel's shoulder.

"Commissar, We are here on behalf on the Inquisition. Our matters take precedent."

The doctors voice is level and calm, unlike the frantic wobble that Gabriel had spoken with. Krast's face changed, anger washed away and he sagged. He haphazardly waved Williams and Jenkins out of the tent and returned to his desk leaning heavily on it. His hand falling close to a heavy bolt pistol serving as a paper weight on some bureaucratic documents. His back to the group he spoke, in a heavy resigned tone.

"I suppose I should be grateful... You received my message then."

"No. We were not informed of any communique."

At this the commissar turned to face them again. Confusion kneading his brows for a second.

"What then? You have orders?"

"No. We have an urgent mission on Pleegawa. We require supplies, transportation not food. A vehicle capable of carrying 5 passengers with room for cargo 10 feet by 5 feet. The sergeant has the required documentation."

When Gabriel didn't respond, Lexus who still was holding him by the shoulder gave him a sharp push. He seemed to jolt back to life, the sheaf of documents springing into his hand. Krast almost growled when he saw the thick clump of bureaucracy, still inaudibly his displeasure could be felt. The Commissar took the papers and flicked through them pausing when he reached the end. He sighed and through the clump of papers on the desk, where they became lost amongst the disorder.

"You are aware of the penalty for impersonating an Inquisition Agent..."

Lexus started to nod, but the Commissar had already turned back to his papers selecting an empty parchment and pen.

"Yes, very aware."

Krast scrawled something down onto the scrap of paper and handed it to the Doctor.

"Good, now get out. That'll get you what you want."

[Strawberries]

Tajah has to admit she's impressed. The doctor may be a dogmatic jerk, but she can respect someone who is actually able to put their crap together when it counts. Well done, mate she thinks to herself, launching him an approving look.

She frowns when she sees both the doctor and Gabriel preparing to turn around and leave. The commissar had mentioned a communique and had sounded actually worried about something. What, isn't anybody going to ask? Tajah doesn't think ignoring something that has a big scary guy like that worried is wise. She doesn't think that's wise at all. And since it's her ass on the line as well, she steps sideways from behind Gabriel to address the Commissar. Sod it, he's not THAT scary She tells herself firmly.

"Uhm, m- I mean, sir" she starts, stopping the "mate" that she was about to tackle to the sentence out of force of habit - she has to remember that those guys like their stupid protocol "That letter you wer' talking 'bout before, say, would that be s'mething that we have to worry 'bout, for our mission an' such? 'Cause we alr'dy bumped into a bit of mess as soon as we landed, you see."

[ellna]

Krast turns to face Tajah, his stare a mixture of hostility and puzzlement. For a moment it appears that the Commissar doesn't intend to answer her query, but then he speaks. His voice curt.

"The message was a tactical update, nothing to do with your present course. I trust your superiors to inform you of all the necessary facts."

And then as an afterthought he adds, in a softer tone.

"Did this mess tell you what attacked the primary tower?"

When he says the word "mess" his tone suggests he is amused by Tajah's candour. A slight smile tugs at his lips, though it carries an undercurrent suggesting a predator's snarl.

[Strawberries]

"Nah, not r'lly." Tajah shrugs "Bloody cold, lots of dead s'ldriers, crazy guy attacked us 'soon as we went in, that all I know." She wisely omits to mention that the crazy guy had made the commissar's name. "We kill'd him, so he ain't really a problem anymore, but he sure didn't do all that damage by hims'lf. Er, sir."

She shuffles her weight from one feet to the other, nervously. "Uhm, we'll be off an' stop bothering you, then, a'ight?"

[ellna]

"Ah."



Outside the commander's tent Doctor Lexus wastes no time in approaching one of the black clad brutes. Gabriel simply stands silently, the slow process of forming a scowl taxing his terror stricken face. Just beyond the perimeter of guards Private Jenkins can be spotted. His face given a flickering glow by his lit lho stick, he appears to be attempting to avoid notice. However in full armour, inconspicuous is not the word to describe him.

Well we're nearly wrapped up here, so lemme know if you have anything further to do at camp. The next post can have you safe and sound in a lovely car... if that sounds good.

[Strawberries]

Just wondering where's the scribe in all this?

Apart from that, bring on the next one!

[ellna]

The slip of paper that Lexus now wields, functions as the key to the kingdom. A quick flash of the parchment and a simple mention of the Commander, by name, induces furious saluting. Before long two of the heavily armoured guards are escorting the group through the camp, striking at curious onlookers more than once. The destination appears to be some sort of garage, where twenty or so curious looking vehicles sit beneath the heavy ice. Here the stench of decay is masked, by the pungent aroma of sacred machine oils and smoking censers. The vehicles themselves are six wheeled affairs, with tyres that seem ridiculously oversized, easily as tall as Tajah and wide enough for her to fit inside. The body looks like the chimera's often shown in penny dreadfuls. However it sat squatted on top of the wheels like a beetle with bloated legs.

Lexus once again flashed Commissar Krast's stationery until a serious looking man in a frost-covered, burgundy robe took it and examined it closely. Rapidly orders are issued and soon one of the Scarabs, as the transports were apparently called, began to belch smoke into the icy ceiling. As the beast was fuelled and the ramp lowered for the passengers, Gabriel snarled and ascended the rugged tyres, settling in the cab. He didn't bother waiting until everybody was strapped in before jerking the Scarab into motion. As soon as the ramp slammed shut he pushed his foot down, pressing the pedal to the floor causing the engine to roar menacingly. Inside the belly of this iron machine, this noise pounded the ears relentlessly. The interior consists of two long benches spanning each wall, complete with buckles and straps. The loading ramp sits at the rear and at the front a hatch leading forward into the cab. Currently it hangs open, rusted solid, allowing the passengers a view out of the front windows. The Scarab crawls forward, at first, slowly gaining speed as Gabriel shifts violently through each jarring gear change. From the subterranean encampment it climbs through a tunnel, scrapping against the frozen sides and shattering protruding crystals of ice. By the time it reaches the exit it practically rockets out of the ground into the blinding blizzard. Swirling ice plunges the visibility to zero and the heavy vehicle sinks into the fresh snow until half the gigantic wheels are below the surface. Still the vehicle forges ahead, it's progress only slowed by Gabriel's colourful language, which accompanies his map reading.

Ten minutes after emerging from the Imperial guard base the shuttles are once again in sight and the ramp descends, though the angle is flat as the Scarab lies so deep in the soft snow. Cold air rushes in carrying with it the biting blizzard. However since the Scarab obviously lacks an internal heater, this does little to change the temperature inside.

"Get the coffin loaded!"

Gabriel barks his orders and returns to consulting the pages of maps provided by the Imperium's finest cartographers.

Vroom! Vroom! :smallbiggrin:

[Strawberries]

Whoa is Tajah's instinctive reaction to the sudden change of attitude towards them. Alright, I guess being in the Inquisition DOES have its advantages. The vehicle itself is... well, Tajah doesn't particularly like it, as with pretty much all means of locomotion. Another bloody thing that moves on somebody else volition, almost guaranteed to give her nausea again. It doesn't help that she's still trying to strap herself down when Gabriel puts his foot down

"Bl'dy hell, mate!" she complains, grabbing one of the straps just in time to avoid being thrown all the way back in the lap of the doctor And wouldn't THAT have been a laugh and a half. She sits down for the ride, keeping far from the doctor and close to the scribe, occasionally launching puzzled looks at the book he is still writing into and shivering quietly in the cold. I hate this planet.

She gets up a little unsteadily when the vehicle stops. "Sure, mate" she mutters, and then, because he's been studying that map for the past ten minutes and has a deep frown line right in the middle of his forehead "Say, y' do know where we're goin', right?"

[ellna]

Gabriel doesn't turn around, instead he rifles through the maps before pulling out a particular page which he points to emphatically. The map contains a circled area, with some hasty scrawl.

"There! Now stop questioning my orders and obey them, or we'll leave another corpse on this emperor forsaken rock."


Earlier while Lexus had been arranging their transportation, there destination had been discussed. The Warlord of Pleegawa ruled from a cavernous domain referred to as Golrem Oasis. The Imperial Guard clearly lacked any recent intel on this tribal leader, but had something referred to as suborbital reconnaissance of almost half the continent.

"That you Lex? I guess this is our ride eh?"

The voice of Santo, who stood at the base of the ramp. His unique scent almost seemed a welcome reunion after the vileness below.

[Strawberries]

"Fine, fine" Tajah backs away, before he can put in effect his threat. She's not stupid enough to think that he won't go through with it, should it strike his fancy. But you'll hold your temper because you actually need me now, don't you? And she's going to make the most of that advantage. If there's one thing she has realised in her life up until now is that the only way to remain sane is holding to every little scrap of independence and self-determination that one could get. There aren't a lot of those, for a psyker. "Jus' checkin', mate."

She groans at Santo's voice - now that's somebody she wasn't missing at all - but gets down all the same to give him a hand. She involuntary shivers at the sight of the 'coffin' - she knows how it feels, based on her own experience, and that's not something she would wish on anybody. Poor bastard, she thinks for the second time, of whoever their intended target is.

[ellna]

"You are correct. We will require to load the containment unit before we can proceed."

"Whatever Doc. I'm jus' happy to see you. It's been giving me the willies and this whiteout ain't helping me nerves."

Santo was carrying the bulky case containing the Warlord's price. He hands it to the Doctor, grinning for a short second before returning to the waiting shuttle. Lexus secures it, using the safety harnesses to lock it in as though it were another passenger. Inside the shuttle the iron coffin waits, half-shadows generated by swirling snow play across it's surface. Santo puts his weight against it, grunting in exertion as it resists his efforts to shift it. However with Tajah's help it begins to slowly slide out of the shuttle and down the loading ramp. By the time it reaches the deep snow between the two ramps Lexus has finished fiddling with the diplomatic case. It's obvious that the coffin can't be pushed through the snow, it'll have to be carried. Santo pants heavily, sweat mingling with fluids best unknown, as he greets the Doctor.

"I'm afraid your going to have to get your hands dirty doc. Come on set your shoulder to it."

It seems as though Santo intends to push it through the snow, despite the impossibility of such a task. Lexus shakes his head.

"We will have to lift the unit. We cannot simply barge through this much snow."

"As you say Doc... I don't think us and the scrag are enough to carry it though. Any chance his highness is going to lend a hand."

Lexus shakes his head again and locks eyes with Santo, a warning look in his eyes. Santo rolls his eyes, before sighing.

"Ai'right I won't ruffle the princesses feathers. Well unless you can lift this thing we're going to need his help."

"The Munitorum are still unloading supplies for the outpost. I will prevail upon them for aid."

With that Lexus strode out into the blizzard, soon becoming obscured by the thick deluge of snow.

"Lex Wait!"

Too late Santo realised the Doctor's intent and moves to catch him, the call lost in the harsh winter blast. He stares out into the wind-swept snow for a while, pacing back and forth.

"We should go after him. Ah we'd never find him, not in this. We'll have to trust he can find his way back. Nothing to but wait. Maybe it'll clear up, eh, he'll be stood fifty metres from us."

It's unclear whether or not Santo is actually speaking to Tajah or not, since he refuses to meet her gaze. Eventually he returns to the Iron Coffin, drumming his fingers on the cold metal. He shifts, he fidgets and glances around obviously uncomfortable. The coffin waits. The howling blizzard seems to almost refuse to touch the dread prison, even exposed as it is on the loading ramp not a single flake of snow mars it's surface. It remains cold to the touch, but not frigid and icy like the unpleasant climate. Santo ceases his drumming and stuffs his hands deep into his pockets.

"So whad'I miss?"

He asks, to no one in particular. His eyes darting back and forth, observing Tajah nervously.

Just a heads up. I will be heading down a river from Monday to Friday so I won't be able to post. I might catch some internet on my mobile, but :smallyuk:

[Strawberries]

Gaah, stupid job. Okay, let's get this show back on the road. Sorry for the delay and/or any lack of sense I might made IC.

Tajah seems only marginally worried when the doctor disappears, and that's just because he is a doctor and as such, useful, albeit unpleasant to be around.

She is still shivering mildly, and looking everywhere except the coffin - Emperor, she hates that thing - and when she's asked the question, she considers briefly about not answering, but really, there's not any point in antagonising the man further, so she scowls and replies:

"Lots o' dead soldiers in that tower, you miss'd, and a bloody n'tjob shooting at us" She can't keep a slight smirk from her voice as she adds "An' the sarg'nt pussying out in front of a Comm'ssar, that alone was worth it."

[ellna]

"Ah. Explains why brass buttons has a brass pole to match."

Santo says, more to himself than to Tajah. He keeps a watch out into the blizzard and is eventually rewarded with the return of Lexus. The doctor strides out off the blizzard, tiny flakes of ice hanging from his face and mingling with the once tidy furs of his winter gear. When he spots the Santo he adjusts his direction slightly, obviously having a hard time retracing his steps. Following behind him are a pair of gruff Munitorum workers, wearing disgruntled expressions. With the additional help it's not long before the Sarcophagus is safely aboard the Scarab, still it takes everybody to shift the monolithic mass. The short distance between the two ramps requiring a monumental exertion to ferry the coffin across it. Santo leans heavily panting, his breath fogging in the frigid air before it's whipped away by the blizzard.

"Umph! Wha' the 'ek is in that thing?"

"It is a temperature and humidity control environ for the Imperial officer's ration. Not that it is your business, your duty here is finished you may return to your other duties."

The worker's shrug and lumber off back into the icy wind.

"Eh. Didn't ya' mother teach you not to lie?"

Santo says with a jovial wink. Lexus smiles warmly as he brushes off the ice from his suit.

"Better a single lie than a pair of bullets. Dead men may not speak, but corpses do tell a tale. You should remember that."



As the ramp leading into the Scarab closes, Gabriel is still pouring over the maps punctuating each page with colourful words. Santo straps himself in opposite to Tajah and gives her a leer, somewhere between to the look the slaughterman gives to a prize grox and the look a hiver would give an infected doxy. His face, smeared with assorted filth and caked with ice, conveys more than mere words could handle. However it's not long before his lip twitches and he averts his gaze sharply, first focusing on the psyker's prison and then the far wall. In the enclosed space the its presence can be felt, however Tajah's perception of it seems... dulled. Lexus clambers forward into the cab to speak with Gabriel. His tone is hushed, but the scarab is not so vast as to afford him privacy.

"Sergeant. Your reaction to the commissariat was understandable given your background. There's no shame in it."

"What are you talking about."

"Peace. I was merely speaking plainly. Now do we have a destination."

Gabriel sighs heavily, his tone still carries it's vitriolic bite, but damped to a dull glower.

"I doubt anyone could navigate in this blizzard and this blasted map is more suited to latrine duty. However I know the right direction and I've got the garrison as reference, I can get us close, but we'll need to to catch sight of the peaks to find the correct grid reference. Get yourself strapped in, no sense waiting around. We've got a day's drive at least."

Sorry about the delay on my end. I went down a silver mine, twas fun and tiring.

Current status the vehicle is rolling and everyone is strapped in. Tajah can't "sense" the coffin as her psyniscience is still down from the overload in the imperial guard.

[Strawberries]

"Ah. Explains why brass buttons has a brass pole to match."

Tajah sniggers quietly to herself. Body odour aside, she actually doesn't mind Santo particularly much - at least he speaks the sort of language she's used to, instead of that overly formal doggerel those other plonks are fond of. Too bad after the sergeant outed her he won't even look her way: in other circumstances, he would have probably been good for a laugh, at least.




Tajah straps herself down a bit clumsily, mentally sighing at the perspective of yet another trip on a moving vehicle, but her ears perk up at the doctor speaking with Gabriel

"Sergeant. Your reaction to the commissariat was understandable given your background. There's no shame in it."

Sod that. she thinks immediately at that. Tajah doubts that her own background is any better than Gabriel, but she hasn't pissed herself just at the sight of the man, has she? Even though, she must admit, the guy had been scary, at the very least she has managed to say three words to him.... a feat that, it seems, is too difficult for the guy that is supposed to be in charge. If Tajah manages to catch Santo's gaze for a minute, she'll arch her eyebrow and incline her head towards the cab, as if to ask 'can you believe that moron?'

[ellna]

Santo smiles briefly, a response to Tajah mirth, but when his smile fades it leaves his scowl only deeper. It's as though making a psyker laugh was a threat to the immortal soul itself. He's still sour faced when Lexus exits the cab and buckles in. Of course Gabriel didn't wait for Lexus to be seated before he goaded the boisterous machine spirit of the scarab into jarring motion. The doctor fell ungracefully into a seat beside Santo, a look passed between them. The filthy Santo smirked, obviously about to say something, but then visibly remembering the scrag seated opposite him. His crooked smile faded and he sat in silence.

The journey proceeded with the same oppressive atmosphere that seemed to permeate every service Tajah performed. As the hours dragged on, marked only by shocking bumps and aggressive gear changes; something Gabriel had to of been doing deliberately as the blinding white of the snow was seemingly without landmark or obstacle; the presence returned. Creeping like a dread spider looming from unseen shadows it slowly wormed inside Tajah's rekindling awareness. Aboard the shuttle the descent had been blessedly brief, but here time poured like treacle...

Then the blizzard's howling turmoil lessened, gradually. The overtaxed engine still filled the interior with deafening noise, but at least now the rugged ice peaks could be seen through the snow. The sun, the ever present glow, could be seen in the distance. It sat atop one of the forked peaks like a swollen tick, fat with blood. The relentless toil of the engine slowed as the good sergeant paused to examine the map.

"We're close, should be able to reach those cavern's before nightfall."

Not waiting for any input from anyone else, Gabriel forced the scarab back into furious motion. More time elapsed, until at last something could be seen far away. A fortification of stone and rock, crenelations soaring high into the empty sky. It cut an imposing silhouette, but as Gabriel finally halted the ravages of time and ice could be seen disfiguring the once great fortress. The Scarab stopped it's fitful progress through the thinning snow, crawling beneath an overhang of ice jutting from a frozen formation that dwarfed even the distant keep. Gabriel clambered out of the cab and hit the release for the ramp.

"Right let's move! Santo you better hold tight to that case, if it's damaged I'll have your balls."

Santo rolled his eyes, after Gabriel had descended the ramp and couldn't see him, and grabbed the case. Outside the flurrying snow had lessened, the wind was still just as harsh, carrying the same biting chill, but the snow had ceased to rain from the heavens and now only the shallow snow at their feet was swept along. In the distance the sun had sunk to touch the tip of the horizon, tinting the entire sky a soft red than resonated within each ice crystal on the desolate surface. This created an effect that was undeniably beautiful, as between the acolytes and the distant fortress a field of windswept ice lay. It captured each ray from the setting sun refracting it through it's frozen chambers, until the planet itself seemed to glow. Gabriel stood impatiently as everybody exited the Scarab, oblivious to the wonder, Lexus and Santo were not so blind taking a moment to stare...

"Close your jaws and get moving. Caverns are underneath than ruin, time for you ladies to stretch your legs."

The Ruined fort lies in the distance, a good hour's walk or so.

Sorry again about the delay, Castle looking at, return from holiday, general laziness on my part (Comfy bed, I missed you.) and a Pathfinder campaign I'm running for my Uni Pals are to blame. Mainly the laziness on my part though, I've been enjoying this week of UK indeed. With Excessive sleep and youtube watching.

[Strawberries]

We did say this game was operating on a "schedule, what schedule?" basis, didn't we? Don't worry, happy to know you've been enjoying the return to the UK. :smallbiggrin:

Tajah had tried for a while to concentrate on the scribe, but the constant movement of him scribbling was only making thing worse, so she passes the majority of the journey staring straight in front of herself, swallowing saliva at close intervals and feeling dizzy - Emperor, she hates things that move on their own - and trying very hard not to vomit every time Gabriel shifted gears. He has to be doing it on purpose, which only serve to firmly cement his presence on Tajah's 'people I wouldn't pee on if I saw them on fire' list. Not that she needed any further confirmation on the matter.

She is grateful when the blasted thing finally stops, and gets up unsteadily, happy to be away from the coffin. The thing is creepy, and as far as Tajah is concerned, the further away she can be from it, the better. She is still dizzy from the journey, however, it doesn't mean that she doesn't stop to look at the spectacle of the sun on the ice. Whoa. As much as Tajah dislikes feral worlds (too much open space and not enough metal), that doesn't mean that she can't appreciate the spectacle.

She starts moving when the other do, keeping a couple of paces behind Santo and scowling at the back of his head - until suddenly she decides she's had enough. Sod it, what's the worst that can happen?. She jogs the two steps that separate them and addresses him, keeping her voice at a tone that hopefully Gabriel won' t be able to hear. "Hey mate, mind tellin' me what's y'r problem with me?"

[ellna]

Santo turns for a moment he looks genuinely shocked. His lips flap for a second, before he catches a glimpse of Lexus' stern gaze. Then his demeanour changes, retreating back into the unthinking confines of hostility.

"i...i...i... I have a problem. I don't like demons walking and talking in human flesh. Much less having endangered my soul by working with one. The Inquisition should just walk all your kind into the recyc vats"

With that santo hawks a gob of phlegm and spits Tajah. The stained fluid hitting her fur hood and quickly freezing in the cutting cold. Gabriel ignoring the drama behind him continued forging ahead, across the ice plain. The scribe followed Tajah like a shadow and Santo held his ground, nostrils flaring, staring at the scrag in front of him.

Yar, the laziesness. Must update more. Anyhow make an awareness check.[roll0]

[Strawberries]

Tajah is almost about to react instinctively: she takes an half step back, squares her shoulders and is about to draw her fist back to strike (nobody, nobody ever in the hive would accept to be spit upon without retaliating), when she realises that, were she to do it, the probability of her being shot would be very high.

"Think very carefully, mate" she says instead, very low "Y're trustin' me to watch your back with a loaded gun when crap goes down. D' you really want to play it this way?"

[roll0]

[ellna]

Santo laughs. He actually laughs. It quickly turns into a hooting, sucking breath in through his filth-stained teeth. He doubles over, clutching at his sides...

Awareness +30 please.

Meanwhile Lexus stands nearby. Gabriel forges ahead, oblivious. And the Scribe is near Lexus.

[Strawberries]

"Yeah, laugh all y'want." Tajah mutters, trying to hide the fact that she has actually turned red. Damn

[roll0] vs 41

[ellna]

Santo glances up at Tajah's reddening face. His mirth is suddenly replaced with horror as he reaches for his weapon.

"Frak."

The autogun swings up towards Tajah, already spitting bullets that crack the ice and send flecks of the frozen plain into Tajah's face. Then from behind her comes a bellowing roar that matches the bark of Santo's gun. A creature, all glistening teeth and snow-white fur, uncoils from it's slinking approach. Within a matter of second it's accelerated into a dead sprint, predatory eyes locked on it's new prey.

Please roll Initiative.

Initive is as follows: Santo 11
Lexus 11
Gabriel 11
Beast 6

The beast is at 15m from Tajah and sprint full speed towards her.

[ellna]

Hearing the beastial roar Gabriel, who is well ahead of the group, turns and brings his lasgun to fire. The weapon hums, and then screams as the ever reliable lasgun overheats catastrophically. The thick padding of the winter gear begins to singe, Gabriel drops the molten time bomb, but to late. It explodes with a wet pop, the effect however is brutal. Gabriel's armour bears most of the brunt, however the ice beneath him cracks and he plunges through the once beautiful crystalline ice. He manages to stop himself from being lost completely, flinging his arms wide and catching the edge of the shattered hole. However his shout of pain and the sharp cracking of ice leave no illusion as to the direness of his situation.

"Run!"

Santo yells, unclear as to it's intended target. He continues firing at the beast, however it's speed makes it difficult to hit as he continues to spray bullets free. The shards of ice kicked up by the missed munition, do little to slow or discourage this savage animal and it continues charging unhindered. The ice however around them begins to crack with the strain of bullet torn fractures that spread across it's surface. Lexus doesn't need to be told twice, turning and dashing away towards Gabriel, his hand on the scribes back propelling him also into a wild run.

Marcus is up. :smallsmile:

[Strawberries]

Tajah remains paralised for an instant, several variations of Oh, frak repeating in loop in her head.
Her hand goes to the laspistol's handle, trying to figure out if the thing has any weak spots...

...Are you bloody taking the piss? The bloody thing is too big, RUN already! a very sensible voice shouts in her head. Tajah decides that it is probably a good idea. And if she can slow down the creature, that's even better.

"Cov'r eyes and ears, mate!" she yells to Santo, then concentrates on the beast. This should be an easy one. Come on Tajah, make noise. You've always been good at it.

Flash bang [roll0]. Treshold 6.
Then leg it asfast as she can :smalltongue:

[ellna]

The monstrous creature doesn't slow as the blast of light and sound assail it. It gives a final growl and launches itself at Tajah, it's jaws impossibly wide. The beast's teeth prove to be razor sharp, easily tearing through the thick layers of her winter garb. The creatures' savage leap ends and it lands heavily on the bullet torn ice and as it rapidly spins to face it's quarry the frozen ground buckles around it. The once smooth surface suddenly churns and shifts as jagged crystals of ice are pushed to upwards. Santo struggles to keep his footing, but manages... just. His rifle still trained on the ferocious predator, he waits for a clean shot.

Gabriel gives another cry of terror, as the ice groans. Lexus grabs his arm and tugs hard, trying to drag the bulky sergeant free from what soon to be his icy tomb. The ice beneath Lexus, begins to crack from the strain and Gabriel slips deeper, as the doctor's footing falters...

Tajah is up. 3 Wounds from le beastie, if not dodged. If dodged I'll edit this post.

A +20 Ag test is required to avoid falling prone on the shifting ice, Tajah is in melee with le beastie.

Both Gabriel and Lexus are still, alive. Gabriel, hasn't plunged to his death... yet. :smallamused:

[Strawberries]

That had not been a good idea. That had not been a good idea at all. What the frak was I thinking, I should have ran. Tajah has just the time to think that as the monster's teeth pierce her clothes, and the skin under it. Crap.

She hisses in pain, scrambling for a weapon. Her hand goes instinctively to her lasgun, but there's no way she's going to manage to aim and shoot properly, not when she's close enough to smell the bloody thing's breath. She draws her knife instead, which it's a respectable heavy thing. She was supposed to carry a sword, according to the bloody tight-arsed guys that have issued her combat gear, but the first thing she's done is finding a trusted fence and swap it. Emperor be damned if she was going to prance around with a posh stupid thing like that, with the psykana's eye mark clearly visible to whoever was interested to look for it. "Santo, bl'dy hell, little help?" She shouts.

Attacking! [roll0] vs 30 +/- whatever. And if it works, damage [roll1]

[ellna]

The knife cuts only fur, as the creature moves with a surprising ease on the shifting ice. It snarls and lunges again, a shot rings out and blood stains the beast's satin-white fur. However it still doesn't relent, continuing it's assault against Tajah. It's teeth clasp on only air, but it's nostrils flare with the scent of blood.

The ice shifts again and Santo struggles to remain standing, his next shot flies errant into the air. At least it wasn't adding further peril to the sliding ice. Lexus grunts with strain and manages to haul Gabriel free from the ice, for a moment they collapse together before being forced to scramble away from the widening rift that Gabriel's malfunction had caused...

And wibley wombley back to Tajah.

[Strawberries]

"HAH! That was a miss, you bl'dy piece of rat crap!" Tajah exclaims gleefully when the beast fangs close on thin air. She's too full of adrenaline right to think about the very real possibility of a bloody death. Instead, she swings her body to the left...and then her knife to the right, aiming to take the beast off guard. She's got the underhive to thank for that particular bit of dirty fighting.

Feint! (Half action) [roll0]
Attack [roll1] vs 30 base, and damage [roll2]

[ellna]

The creature's gaping maw surges forward, ignoring both Tajah's feint and her thrust. Before it's teeth can tear at her flesh however, the knife finds it's mark. The blade sinks in up to it's hilt and is soon sticky with blood. The creature collapses, overcome with pain, before it can struggle the ice shifts again and it bounces ungracefully. It recovers, barely in time, it's claws gouge into the ice to prevent it disappearing into the cavernous depths. However it's rear limbs, hang over empty air as a widening crack, in the splintering ice, threatens to swallow it.

Santo steps forward, raising his rifle to end it, the ice shifts again. The fractured surface becoming increasingly unstable with each jarring movement. Santo swears as he loses his footing, landing heavily. He quickly begins scrambling away from the expanding void...

And the beast was... stunned. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_lK4cX5xGiQ)

Tajah is up again. Santo fell, followed by regaining his footing and fleeing the widening ice chasm. Gabriel and Lexus are safe, heading towards Tajah and Santo.

[Strawberries]

It's only by some miracle that Tajah manages to keep her balance, and as the beast slips, that only serves to cement her conviction that she'd better move, now, before she is swallowed whole by the ice. She takes advantage of the monster's confusion to take a quick couple of steps back, disengaging, turns around to start running, and it's then that she sees the doctor and Gabriel coming back towards them "No, no, what the bl'dy hell are you DOIN'? Get the hell away, dammit." she gestures them away waving her arms "Y've made enough damage alr'dy, soldier boy!"

Commence getting the hell away as well, please.

Agility test again, right? [roll0]

[ellna]

The beast snarls as it attempts to claw itself back onto the shifting ice, it's yellow eyes fixed on Tajah. However it's massive bulk drags the creature downwards, leaving deep scars in the ice from it's claws. As a final resort it buries it's fangs into the ice, but the ice buckles and snaps. It plunges down into the crack between two shifting, frozen masses. Frantic scrabbling of it's claws can be heard deeper and deeper.

Tajah's retreat from the dangerous icy death-trap is cut short when the ice shifts beneath her causing her to lose her footing and land heavily. Santo manages to find his footing, but turns seeing Tajah fall. He stands still for a moment, torn in decision. Then the Ice shifts again and he is jarred into movement, before he loses his balance again he runs, getting clear. Lexus and Gabriel arrive at the edge of the ruptured ice, and begin backing up as the cracks spread outward...

And back to Tajah. And the beast was done. We're still in combat time till Tajah clears the deadly deadly ice.

[Strawberries]

She smirks in glee when the beast falls down the crack, a little exclamation of triumph ready on her lips, only to be transformed in a yell of surprise and distress when she loses her balance on the ice and ends up sliding down and falling hard on her side. Her teeth clatter for the impact as her body gets slammed painfully in the ice. Bloody hell that's cold.

Of course, she thinks scathingly to herself when Santo doesn't stop to give her a hand. Well, she was never under any illusion on that. She's had to rely on herself for the past nineteen years, there wasn't any reason for it to change right now wasn't there? With a slight grunt, she tries to get her footing back on the ice...

Agility? Is it at +2 or flat, this time? :smallconfused:
Well, I'll roll a d100 and we can take it from there [roll0] Agility is 32 as base value

[ellna]

Regaining her footing proves to be extremely difficult as the unstable ice continues collapsing in jarring motions. Whatever pristine crystalline structure had existed beneath the surface had shattered and now the surface shifted and slid. Tajah slides along the ice, until her legs hang out over empty space, far below her she hears a frightened roar followed by a sickening sound, like a fruit bursting.

"Santo you coward, get back in their and get her out. We still need the scrag."

"Yeh, sure' after you mate."

Santo and Gabriel stand at the edge of the crashing ice both unwilling to make an attempt to aid Tajah. Lexus remains silent his eyes watching Tajah struggle with a sinister gaze.

Aaaaand back to Tajah. Good luck.

[Strawberries]

"Yeah, don' bother with me, I'm just takin' a bloody nap, here." Tajah shouts sarcastically. It helps, shouting. It makes her feel a bit less scared. "Tell you what, I'll jus' bloody fly away fr'm here, shall I?" Too bad she can't really just fly away from there, that would be a trick that would have been really useful to have... but none of the psykers she's met had been able to.

Don't even try to look down, if you look down you're screwed She tries to follow her own advice, and desperately tries to give herself a pull up just with her arms, as she has no leverage with her feet. You'd better pray that I don't make it, because if I do I'm going to make your life a living hell she thinks to herself.

[ellna]

"She dies, You Die!"

Gabriel bellowed angrily, his face red with exertion. Santo cursed, his words only partially drowned out by the harsh sound of ice on ice. He jumped unsteadily back on the subsiding projections of jagged ice. He managed to reach Tajah, grabbing at her arms in an attempt to pull her back up...

Back to Tajah, thanks to Santo a +10 is imparted to the S test. Gabriel is still safe...

[Strawberries]

"'preciate it, mate" Tajah grunts in acknowledgment, if not exactly thanks, as she stretches to grab Santo's arm. Of course the little princeling had been too precious to actually come and risk his behind himself. And the look that the doctor is giving them is rather disturbing. Bloody creepy, that's what it is.. "On three, alright?" She grabs hold of Santo and tries to give herself another pull up: she's not very heavy, but the ice is treacherous, and she wants Santo to be prepared for the additional strain.

[roll0] vs... 39, I think, off the top of my head.

[ellna]

"Al'right. One, Two, Three"

On three Santo pulls, his face already soaked in frosted sweat from his own terror. Slowly, but surely Tajah begins to rise from the precipice. The ground groans, the sound of splintering ice rising from the depths of the glacial domain. Tajah manages to find a foothold, almost free from the precipice, when the faltering ice gives way. The ice shifts. Tajah's meagre foothold crumbles. Tajah falls, Santo grits his teeth and tightens his grip. His thick glove comes away in Tajah's hand. The widening chasm threatens to swallow Tajah as she tumbles downs. Her descent ends almost as quickly as it had begun. Her foot jams painfully against another outcrop. It holds barely and Tajah manages to boost off it and haul herself up. Santo having regained his own footing grabs Tajah's arm and practically drags her out of the sinkhole.

Behind Tajah the ice finally collapses completely, sending up a sparkling plume of frozen shards. The crashing slabs of ice come to rest in a tangled mess the depression at least a hundred feet deep. Santo sucks in breath noisily and the chattering of his teeth mingles with the sound. The sun has dropped beneath the horizon and night has fallen. The moon's soft glow barely illuminates the snow scape giving the scene an eerie twilight. The edge of the new crater is still unstable and a chunk of ice echoes, as it tumbles bouncing down the jagged slopes.

Gabriel grabs Santo by his shoulder hauling him back to his feet.

"Emperor curse you Santo, where is it."

"What? She's there, alright get offa me."

"Frak the Scrag. Where's the case Santo. We've a job ta' do."

"Wha..."

Santo looks stunned for a second, anger giving way to confusion... and then realisation as he remembers the case intended for the primitive Warlord. Santo's eyes tighten as Gabriel growls, his face pushed close to Santo's distinguished aroma.

"Ahem." Lexus taps the bulky case, which rests in his hand. "I took the liberty of ensuring the package's arrival. Shall we continue."

The doctor's tone is measured and Gabriel gives a derisive snort before dropping Santo, releasing Santo.

"Fine, good. I'm glad some-one here remembers this ain't no holiday. We've wasted enough time playing with the wildlife let's move. Tajah, your Lasgun."

Gabriel holds out his hand for Tajah's Lasgun, the fabric of his winter garb severely singed and torn in places. Beneath the damage his Flak Armour still carries shards of his own lasgun embedded deep within it.

Currently everyone is standing at the edge of the collapsed ice crater/sinkhole/jumbled mess of ice. The edge is crumbling, but not in immediate danger of giving way.

Lexus has the case, the scribe stands just behind him his quill twitching. It's extremely cold as the sun has disappeared and the faint smell of scorched flesh rises from Gabriel, though he doesn't seem hurt in any meaningful way...

[Strawberries]

Tajah takes a second to stop shaking from the adrenaline, just in time to register what Gabriel is saying. Frak you, you bag of piss and wind is the first thing that comes on the tip of her tongue. And maybe it's the exhilaration of simply being alive, when it didn't look likely two minutes before, but she doesn't feel particularly inclined to censor herself. "Frak you, mate", and oh, it's liberating to tell that to his face. Even if it's probably been the worst idea she's had in her life. "Last time I ceck'd, this mess was YOUR fault t' start with." She nonetheless takes out the lasgun and throws it disdainfully towards him. He isn't useful for a lot, but it's always good to have more people that can shoot things. "Y' want us to do what you say, try a bit o' respect, yeah?" And she isn't even sure why she is including Santo in that. Possibly because he pulled her up, even if she is under no illusions that he's only done so because he'd been told to.

[ellna]

Gabriel grabs the lasgun, catching out of the air before checking the gun over. He doesn't look at Tajah, but his cheeks are red and angry. Possibly from exertion or the cold or something else, he looks around at the others his eyes lingering on the scribe who swayed in the frigid wind, while still incessantly scratching at his parchment, Gabriel simply sneers at Tajah refusing to meet her eyes and stomps angrily away towards the caverns.



The sun had set completely by the time the ragged group reached the entrance to the cavernous domain of the supposed king. Beneath the battered and ice encrusted keep of stone the thick ice hid tunnels descending deep into the earth. Gabriel wastes no time in picking one in and entering, glad to be beyond the reach of the biting weather. A short distance into the icy tunnel two figures detach from the shadowy walls, natives of Pleegawa. They are large and bulky, both standing at least six feet tall, swathed in heavy furs and sporting thick beards messily intertwined with shoulder length hair. Necklaces with tiny bones hang from their trunk-like necks. They bare spears, constructed from bone and tipped with menacing fangs, which they lower to block the groups progress.

"Stop, who are you. What is your business here."

Their voices are thick and heavily accented, sounding like a Catachan with a lho addiction. However there is a worried and genuinely puzzled tone to their odd voices as they take stock of the off-worlders. Both Gabriel and Santo had raised their weapons when confronted by these... guards?

http://fc03.deviantart.net/fs71/i/2013/273/2/f/helm_hammerhand_by_turnermohan-d6oqsvh.jpg (http://www.deviantart.com/art/Helm-Hammerhand-404358317)

They look like this man but with primitive spears rather than a metal sword.

[Strawberries]

"Whoa, whoa, hold on" Tajah raises her hands to show that she's unarmed. This is rapidly becoming an habit, she reflects, and she doesn't really like it that much. "No need t' go 'round pointing weapons to folk, yeah?" She points to Gabriel "This guy here wants t' speak with your boss, right?"

Possibly channelling the 10th doctor a bit, here. :smalltongue: Do I need a fellowship roll? Just in case [roll0] vs TN 45 +/- ??

[ellna]

The feral men knit their thick brows together in confusion, obviously struggling to place the off-world accent. Which to them sounds exotic and utterly alien. However they seem satisfied with Tajah's answer and visibly relax, before stepping aside and allowing the group entrance into the subterranean domain. Gabriel relaxes his trigger finger, his lips curled in a savage visage while Santo swings his weapon away with a cocky grin.

"King Rex is holding court, it's his business if he wishes to speak with you."

As the acolytes of the inquisition pass between the guards, one of them reaches out to grab Tajah's arm as she slips between.

"You're bleeding. Looks bad, could become worm meat. Listen stranger, Tawrey can patch you up down by the shore."

The primitive warrior's grasp is rough and his speech just as harsh, but it's clear he means well. However Gabriel, seething anger bubbling on his face, reacts violently snapping the lasgun back up and growling through gritted teeth.

"Let. It. Go."

The other guard quickly reacts too, his spear gripped firmly. Meanwhile Santo cautiously edges his own hands towards his weapon...

Yay, diplomacy. Anyhow again sorry about my updating speed recently, I've been being a tad lazy, on the bright side the walls have paint on them now...