[DH] A Wretched Hive (IC)

[Thragka]

A Wretched Hive

Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.
– Ozymandias (Percy Bysshe Shelley)

OOC Thread

Barely a dozen levels below the hiveskin, the ramshackle alley leading to the Scaldbat's Rest was baking in the dry heat. Picking cautious steps along the uneven floor, it occurred to Nuala Sayed that she might want to alter her plan for the evening. In this weather, dehydration would multiply the effects of even just one drink, and if it was still so hot this late in the evening, getting home might be a challenge. A sudden creak in the superstructure above her was followed by a hissing rattle, like thunder to lightning: a reminder that the Season of Winds was already wreaking havoc on the poorly maintained outermost layer of the Hive above the Cauldron district. Getting caught in an unexpected sunblast while drunk could be fatal.

Nonetheless, there she was. She swept aside the thick leathery curtain into the bar and stepped into the welcoming breeze of a buzzing electric fan. The air was cool and relatively dust-free. Heads turned to check the newcomer framed in the doorway, but nothing was amiss. They returned to their muttered conversations in the corners and alcoves of the reclaimed ruins.

She was idly staring at the ceramic rifle hanging behind the bar, still debating her next step when a meaty hand grasped her arm and tugged her sideways.

"Sayed."

It was her Magistratum contact – not that he looked the part, dressed down in labourer's togs and stinking of rotgut whiskey. Even if any of the other patrons knew he was an Enforcer, she had the suspicion he'd been drinking in this den years before she ever discovered it, and probably counted as more of a regular than she did. He paid no notion to her complaint, his hand still uncomfortably tight. "Just come on, come here," he said. He pulled her again, in the direction of a table, and let her go, slumping down into one of the chairs. A half-full bottle of rotgut explained the foul odour on his words. Less easily explained was the second glass, already filled. To Nuala's utter shock, he slid it over to her, and gestured at her to take the other chair.

He poured and drank himself another glassful before he responded to her any further.

"I'm not gonna be your handler any more," he said, breaking the silence between them. "New instructions for you." Reaching into a pocket, he slid a thick iron key across the table to her. He gave her directions in the midhive below, and made her repeat them until she had them memorised. “Laxday noon. Go there. You’ll be told what comes next.”

He wouldn’t or couldn’t tell her much more. “Vane. He’s called Vane.” That was all he said of her new handler. There was a hard sobriety in his eyes, staring out bizarrely between his flushed cheeks and sweating forehead. “Do what he says.”

He poured himself another glass, downed it, and pushed the bottle over to her as he stood up. He seemed to pause.

“I don’t think it’s House Krin you need to worry about any more.” Then he was gone, bustling out through the curtain, into the heat and the dust of the evening, leaving Nuala with the key and the end of the bottle of whiskey.

~

It was already late afternoon when Nathias Falkner happened to glance across the room and see the tall envelope just inside the door to his small hab. When had that arrived? It certainly hadn’t been there this morning. But he’d heard nothing at the door all day, and he’d barely moved from his desk. He brought it over now, pushing his other work aside to make room before he opened it.

It was something of a shock to see the papers that spilled out – forms, passes, licenses, certificates. He’d created all of them, over the past few months, and certainly no two of them had gone into the hands of the same customer. They did have something in common: all purported to be officially notarised by the Administratum.

Last to fall from the brown envelope was a dark iron key and the single item written by a different human soul – a brief note, with the characteristic ink markings of an autoquill. On one side was a date, time and address. The other held the message.

Any one of these would be sufficient evidence to justify a lengthy interrogation at the hands of the Adeptus Arbites before sentencing for defrauding the Administratum. I suggest you destroy them now.

I have done you a very great favour, Falkner. You shall repay me in kind.

Vane

~

They must have been interrogating her peers in the trainee cohort. Lyra Thebe was rapidly running out of boltholes in the upper layers of the hive. In retrospect, it had been stupid not to be more secretive about her trips into Tarsus to the other junior troopers. She’d nearly been caught in a couple of the lodging houses she’d used previously, and only a gut feeling had got her out through the basement of the third minutes before she heard the near-silent flutter of a grapple-hawk landing on the roof.

Thankfully, she didn’t think she’d told anyone about these digs: an abandoned habblock, whose long-term squatters would leave you alone on the lower floors if you didn’t trouble them on the higher ones. Nonetheless, she was certain she was still being hunted. She’d sworn she’d caught a hovering shape at the edge of her vision several times already this evening. Now she was hunkered down in a back room in the block, trigger finger twitching as she kept the shotgun pointed at the only door in.

A low drone echoed up the corridor, getting louder. Not a grapple-hawk, this time, far too noisy for one of those. It was still a surprise when the servo-skull hovered into view through the doorway. Some deep instinct stopped her from pulling the trigger half a second before she was about to blow it out of the air

She’d noticed, before she was even conscious of noticing it, that the typical Arbites crest was not emblazoned onto the dome of the skull. In fact, most unusually, there was no identifying mark at all. A heartbeat after she realised this, the servo-skull turned to her and spoke.

“Deputy Homicide Investigator Thebe,” a man’s voice said through the vox-unit. Something about it sent a shiver down her spine, tweaking at strands of memory, but even her unconscious could not figure out when she’d heard it before.

“That was your rank when I first took note of you,” the skull’s recording continued. “Perhaps I should have laid claim to you then. No matter. Training with the Arbites has done you no harm. At least, if you’re hearing this message, that means you have survived so far.” There was a cruel humour to the mystery speaker’s words.

“They think you are a traitor. I do not agree. I think you and I can help each other, Lyra Thebe.” The skull hovered closer. A small mechadendrite arm extended towards her, holding a key. “Here is how …”

~

The grand avenue was thronged, with pilgrims and those who made their living off the pilgrims – street food purveyors, trinket-merchants, children offering to hold your place in the queue when you needed to relieve yourself, any and all services one could imagine selling or swindling to those pious souls who’d crossed the Calixis sector for the hope of entering the Cathedral of Illumination. That complex was many miles ahead of them yet, but the road was almost as well lit. The ceiling of this level some twenty metres above carried a brilliant rod bathing all in light the spectrum of Scintilla’s sun. The beampipes carried molten light by the grace of the God-Emperor, so it was said, strongest near the Cathedral, and inside of which they were allowed to vent brilliant flame. Of course, Titia knew by now that the beampipe network ran throughout the hive, not just around the Cathedral, and was probably most impressive and reliable where they sank deep into the dark and chilly depths of the nobles’ subterranean districts. But even she had to make a living off the travellers.

Titia wandered the line, trying to swing closest to those in the crowd who looked like they wouldn’t mind the effort of taking a shortcut as she advertised herself as a guide. She’d written off the tonsured man whose robes marked him more as a monk than a mendicant – he looked like a local, come to preach or maybe just fraternise to the crowd, rather than a visitor. But he surprised her by catching her eye and waving her down.

“Do you know the best way to get to the twenty-seventh level of the Cauldron from here?” he asked brightly. He saw her evaluating his robes and smiled. “I don’t mind a climb,” he added, rolling up his sleeves to reveal strong, tanned arms.

She led him away from the crowd, though he stopped to buy a couple of savoury pastries from a vendor's cart, and gave her one. He walked in silence as he ate, following her lead down side streets and utility stairways towards an access shaft. But before they reached the grand column that would lead them up through the levels of the Hive, he stopped her.

"A direct climb from here," he said. It didn't seem like a question. He already knew the way. "But you're familiar with the area, Titia." She hadn't told him her name. He reached into his robes, withdrawing two objects. In his left hand he held a thick metal key, which he passed to her. In his right hand was a sort of ornate badge marked with an I.

"You've helped many a wandering soul already. Do you want to serve the Throne?"

~

The smell of lho and recaf, the clicking of typewriters and skittering of autoquills: the ambiance of the Tarsus Inquirer newsroom. It was familiar to Carys Callaghan, but not conducive to work today. Her attention had been on the meeting room since this morning. She'd arrived at her desk, and seen her editor and Father Hussain watching her through the panel windows. The Ecclesiarchy representative seemed prim and disapproving, his lips pursed like he'd eaten something sour. The look the editor gave her was indescribable – and he hadn't broken it as he reached under the table and hit the switch that frosted the glass partition. She could guess what they were discussing.

Plus, the contents of her desk drawers were missing, so it wasn't as if she had much to work on even if the conference room hadn't held her attention hostage.

Eventually the glass defrosted and the editor walked to the door. He opened it, and gestured at her to come over. Her colleagues tried very hard not to watch as she crossed the room and joined the two men. Many succeeded.

Hussain looked even more unctuous than usual, if such a thing were possible, although his thinning hair hadn't been spread across his knobby skull with as much care as usual, and strands were escaping the tyranny of wax to point in various directions. She noticed the editor had dried recaf foam on his moustache.

"It seems your … temperament has caught the attention of one of my colleagues, Callaghan," the priest said. "Why they think you can be useful to them is known to Him on Terra, I'm sure, but not to me." He sniffed. The editor very explicitly did not roll his eyes before speaking. "You'll need to hand over your outstanding projects to someone else – that Bloodsquares piece, wasn't it? You're not going to be working from here for the foreseeable future, I don't think."

"We'll see," Hussain muttered. But even that barb wasn't coated in his usual oily tone. There was an expression on his face that Cary's didn't think he'd ever directed at her before. It almost looked like concern.

"If you can submit your regular column, we'll keep publishing that," the editor continued. He shrugged. "And anything else you happen to get to us. You still have a job here, as far as I'm concerned." He glanced to Hussain. The priest cleared his throat.

"However, your, ah, assistance is requested by a … colleague of mine called Vane," Hussain said. His words seemed cautious. "Callaghan. I … must recommend that you don't let your usual reckless manner –" The editor interrupted with a pointed cough. Amazingly, Hussain took a breath and paused. He reached to the table and picked up an iron key, turning it over in his hands a couple of times before speaking again.

"You and I may have often disagreed, Ms Callaghan. But I hope that doesn't prejudice you towards Mr Vane before you meet him. That would be a mistake. He is a different creature altogether."

~

I. The Informants

The keys opened the apartment on the second floor of a brick building on the edge of the Arnest Cauldron district, in a strip of residential buildings between the industrial zones of the Cauldron proper and the broad commercial/tourism neighbourhood surrounding the Cathedral of Illumination. Although the door appeared to be wood, it was far heavier than it ought to be, and when the key turned the simple mechanical bolt, other things clunked in the thick door frame, whirring back into place when the door was closed again.

As the door swung shut for the fifth time, an electronic tone sounded through the flat. One of the cogitator banks in the large study was coming to life. Its vox unit crackled, and the vidscreen flickered on.

“Good,” said a voice that was familiar to Lyra. “You are all here.” On the screen, an abstract waveform pulsed in time to the words. Beneath it blinked a few short letters.

CONNECTED: VANE

“I can not be with you in person today. We likely will not meet at any time in the near future. There is to be an element of trust in our relationship. But since you are here, I expect you are convinced of my bona fides.”

The waveform disappeared from the screen. It was replaced with images of a middle-aged man in the robes of a cleric. LEONOR RIGG, blinked the display. Small spectacles sat on a thick nose. The man’s angular jaw was coated in dark salt-and-pepper stubble, and his receding hair of the same colour was shaved almost as short.

“There is a man I require you to observe. Father Leonor Rigg, late of Sisk. He arrived on a pilgrimage around the new year, and has since taken to ministering to the pilgrim crowds as they pass through Arnest Cauldron, typically near Grand Urbis Plaza. He has gathered a small following of zealots. It is rumoured that he has taken to leading them on expeditions into the dangerous upper layers of the hiveskin, on the hunt for mutants and heretics. Possibly, he has fallen in with the Red Redemption. If these rumours are true, he may be implicated in the recent disappearances of several pilgrim visitors of status exceeding his own, as well as a firefight which killed a craftsman and damaged his workshop in the midhive.” The images of Rigg were replaced with an autopsy photograph. HAX GURNER (DECEASED) said the onscreen letters, followed by an address several levels higher. A dataslate docked in the cogitator winked into active mode, cycling through the same information that the screen had shown on Rigg and Gurner. The waveform returned as the voice spoke again.

“I would like you to investigate the true extent of this personal crusade of his, and determine whether it is a threat to the Emperor’s Peace in the Hive. The misguided faith of one man can not be permitted to interfere with the orderly well-being of the greater Hive. I expect a preliminary report two weeks from today.”

The modulations of the wave fell still. DISCONNECTED, the screen blinked briefly, and then it went blank.

[Bennosuke]

s the door swung shut for the fifth time, an electronic tone sounded through the flat. One of the cogitator banks in the large study was coming to life. Its vox unit crackled, and the vidscreen flickered on.

“Good,” said a voice that was familiar to Lyra. “You are all here.” On the screen, an abstract waveform pulsed in time to the words. Beneath it blinked a few short letters.

Lyra had worn her largest and heaviest coat, paying no mind to the weather. She eyed the others in the room with cold hard eyes, refusing to let them see how confused or out of sorts she was with this strange meeting. In a moment, she did her best to take her measure of the others, common thugs from the looks of it, and sauntered in to the back of the room, putting herself behind the others to the best of her ability.

“I would like you to investigate the true extent of this personal crusade of his, and determine whether it is a threat to the Emperor’s Peace in the Hive. The misguided faith of one man can not be permitted to interfere with the orderly well-being of the greater Hive. I expect a preliminary report two weeks from today.”

The modulations of the wave fell still. DISCONNECTED, the screen blinked briefly, and then it went blank.

Once the communication ends, Lyra spits on the ground and growls, "Anyone else just having the strangest day? At the very least should we introduce ourselves?"

[Haval]

When Laxday comes Nuala will make a point of showing up to the Cauldron early to have a look round. This probably wasn’t an ambush. If anyone had a problem with her then they likely already knew who she was and where she lived, but she had already considered hopping a trading caravan out of Tarsus just to be on the safe side.

As each of the others came inside she'll only watch them suspiciously without saying anything. They didn't look like much of a threat. The angry looking one maybe being the exception. The tech did interest her in spite of herself. In other circumstances she might have considered bringing some friends back here and taking whatever they could carry.

The voice finished speaking and Nuala will let out a relieved laugh. She'll reply to Lyra, ‘You have no idea. Was anyone else expecting a job offer?'

[-Sentinel-]

Nathias had almost not come. After receiving the envelope filled with many documents he had forged, he had even entertained the idea of assuming his backup identity of Kurt Henneker and disappearing into thin air once again. But if the mysterious sender had both the means and the determination to track down several of Nathias' clients, he or she would surely find him again. Besides, Nathias stood a little too much to lose, now that both of his careers (cabbie and forger) were getting off the ground and finally earning him decent money. And so he had come prepared—with a loaded revolver in his cabbie's jacket. He was a decent marksman on a shooting range, but had never been in a proper firefight, and hoped he would never find out how he fared in one.

He listened to Vane in silence, his bespectacled eyes flicking from the screen to the faces of the others. They seemed just as confused as he was about this strange meeting, which made him feel a little bit better.

"Anyone else just having the strangest day? At the very least should we introduce ourselves?" said the tall, dark-haired woman in a heavy coat who had taken Nathias' desired spot at the back of the group.

Why don't you set an example, then? thought Nathias.

"I'm Nathias," he introduced himself. "I work for the Northwind Transportation Guild. And I don't know what I was expecting."

His full name and the logo of his guild were stitched at the front of his cabbie's jacket, so it was no use trying to keep his identity and affiliation a secret.

[Burden King]

Titia had almost made a run for it as soon as the nice man had made it clear that he had not sought her out for her services, but that brief hesitation allowed him to show her a symbol she recognized, one given to her by one of the travelers she had met in the past, and hand her the key. The key she had used to enter this apartment that was way nicer than what she had herself lived in for most of her life, and likely far better than anything her parents had been allowed to view.

As she walked in, she carried with her the chemical smell that seemed stained into her body, one she had long ago forgotten about as her body simply ignored it. She had been ready to open fire on anyone with her hand cannon if this proved to be some plot or ganger scheme, she had once heard of a gang that stole people to sell to the mechanicus. But, she stayed her hand, and she listened to the voice that had startled her, and soaked in all the information before she was left alone with the rest of the people in the room.

One suggested they introduce themselves to each other, while another obliged and provided their name and occupation. ’A cab driver? I’ve always wanted a car, would make guiding people easier, though I wouldn’t be able to get into the secret areas with a bulky vehicle.’ she thought to herself, before reasoning that she should introduce herself as well, especially if she was going to be working with these people. The God-Emperor has called on her, the throne had called upon her, and she hoped that her devotion would be seen.

“My name’s Titia, I guide pilgrims and other people through the city. Kind of like transportation....except with walking.“ she said, raising her hand in a meek wave to the others in the room.

[Bennosuke]

"Nice to meet you. Lyra," she says flatly, spitting her name out like just like the saliva before bitterly adding, "and I can't say I do much of anything these days."

[Haval]

Nuala listens to the cabbie and the guide introduce themselves. 'Nuala. I'm between jobs at the moment.' She had to wonder what she had in common with these people. 'Did they ask whoever they had available to come down here?'

[LeSwordfish]

Tarsus Inquirer
Carys sat straight-backed and prim, her body language a lid tightly screwed on. The "reckless" comment had not been unwarranted, but it still stung a bit, and made her all the more inquisitive as to precisely what they were doing that warranted taking her job from her.

"Your... colleague?" she asked, with just a touch of ice in her voice. "The Ecclesiarchy?"


Arnest Cauldron
This was an area of town that Carys had spent very little time in before, and so she had come uncharacteristically prepared for trouble: her long coat with armor-weave weighing it down, her cut-down autopistol, the arbite-surplus baton and the can of Stagger-spray that certain mid-hive women referred to as the "Lady's Maidservant" in her little purse. She stood out like a sore thumb amongst these strange people - petite and carefully put-together, hair and nails done to the best of her ability, more dressed for a secretarial role or the more dignified kind of party than... a factory, surrounded by outhive strangers, shivering in discomfort as

"Carys Callaghan," she volunteered. "Tarsus Inqui- well, no."

She looked around at the assembled group. "We are a strange gathering, aren't we? You could come to all sorts of conclusions about what our dear mister Vale was looking for."

[Bennosuke]

"Carys Callaghan," she volunteered. "Tarsus Inqui- well, no."

She looked around at the assembled group. "We are a strange gathering, aren't we? You could come to all sorts of conclusions about what our dear mister Vale was looking for."

Lyra grinned mirthfully at the woman's slip up. The Inquisition was a boogeyman, a warning to Arbites trainees to file their paperwork properly and promptly, lest the Inquisition comes after you. And even if they did exist, they wouldn't be so careless as to slip up like that.

But she let that slide, instead beginning to let her mind slip into the mysteries of the case.

Spoiler: Rolls

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I don't know if either of these are appropriate but I will roll anyways, and then the GM can ignore or modify them as needed.

Lyra is going to use CL Arbites and Imperium to see if she has heard anything about the disappearances in Tarsusor this Father Leonor Rigg. Perhaps she had seen some files in the Arbites offices, or heard something during her time in exile in Hive Tarsus. Both rolls will be against a base of 37.

CL Arbites: (1d100)[63]
CL Imperium: (1d100)[35]

[Haval]

She looked around at the assembled group. "We are a strange gathering, aren't we?"

Nuala takes note of the woman's appearance, 'You especially Miss. What did you say you did again? When you're not doing whatever this is.'

She had to wonder if they found out anything useful on this Father Rigg would they be left alone afterwards.

Spoiler

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Common Lore (Imperium) to have heard anything about Rigg
vs. Int 34
(1d100)[33]

[LeSwordfish]

Carys hesitated. "I'm a journalist. For the Inquirer."

OOC

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Common Lore (Tarsus Hive) - have I heard of either of these people, or anything else about these deaths? (1d100)[1] vs 39

Wow, I think that means I was there for the deaths.

[Burden King]

Titia kept her eye on the growing conversation, noticing that the fancier looking woman was part of a local publication that handled rumors and the various goings on in the hive. She had read it a couple times, and could almost live vicariously through it to enjoy some lower hive life, even if she didn't have the context for much of the scandal.

Spoiler: Rolls

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Guess I'll do the same, i wanted to do so earlier but doubt it was applicable.
Int is 35, CL Imperium skilled
CL Imperium: (1d100)[56]

[-Sentinel-]

Nathias snapped his fingers. "That's where I saw your name before. The Inquirer. I knew it sounded familiar." He paused. "I... don't read it, myself. But my guild keeps copies in the back of their vehicles. Makes customers less chatty when they have a paper with eye-catching headlines. Your copy-editing leaves a lot to be desired, though. Or so I'm told."

He did read the Inquirer once in a while, despite his distate for gossip and scandal. The crime stories provided a good primer on what not to do when living on the wrong side of the law, and the obituaries were an endless source of faces and names for forged identification papers.

"So. You're asking what Mr. Vale is looking for in us. I think he mostly wants... a bunch of nobodies, or people who are good at acting the part."

[Thragka]

The Tarsus Inquirer, previously

Hussain frowned. The Editor was already reaching under the table for the control panel. He activated the glass frosting – and the stummers. The background noise from the newsroom was instantly replaced with a light hummm from the partition.No noise from the outside was getting in, and no noise from the inside was getting out.

“Yes,” Hussain said, in answer to Carys’s question, “and no.”

“You know that there’s a cost to doing business,” the Editor said. “Everything we print has to get signed off on. Occasionally we have to do a favour for the powers that be. Some of whom … ask more nicely than others.”

“And some of whom,” Hussain said, “could ask anyone in the entire Calixis sector for a favour. In which case, it would be a very bad idea to turn them down.”

Spoiler: OOC

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I haven’t given the Editor a name, just because I thought you might want to have some input on fluffy details of the Inquirer rather than me deciding everything.

~

Arnest Cauldron, presently – Laxday of the 25th week

Lyra

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The name Rigg didn’t ring a bell, and neither could Lyra recall any disappearances that seemed out of the ordinary in recent Arbites files. She’d heard of the Red Redemption, though – a loosely organised sect of vigilantes that raided the upper levels of the Hive with fire and sword, looking for mutants and blasphemers to ‘redeem’. She felt lucky that she hadn’t run into any roaming bands of them in the months she’d been skulking in Tarsus so far. Their ferocity could be unpredictable.

The Arbites sometimes kept an eye on the Redemption, particularly in Tarsus, where groups of pilgrims often formed impromptu groups of Frateris Militia and took it upon themselves to enforce law and order, to the chagrin of the Magistratum Enforcers. One of these days, the Arbites would have to step in to untangle a conflict between the zealots and the enforcers, possibly with arbitrator squads taking over Magistratum duties. Neither organisation particularly wanted that to happen. The Arbites viewed enforcer duties beneath them, and the Magistratum would take it as a grave insult to their independence and jurisdiction.

Nuala

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Nuala didn’t know the name Rigg, but she’d heard of the Red Redemption. She was lucky enough not to have ever run across them, but she knew people who had. They could be single-minded in finding sinners and blasphemers in the hiveskin who needed to be purified by fire and blade - sometimes, ‘sin’ looked an awful lot like it just mean ‘flammability’ …

Carys

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Carys was surprised to realise that two things the faceless voice had said tugged at memories. A new preacher from Sisk – someone from the newsroom had done a puff piece, or a vox pop profile, on a preacher who’d arrived on a pilgrimage and decided to stay in Hive Tarsus rather than go home. Was it Rigg? She couldn’t be sure off the top of her head, but she new it had been published six or seven weeks ago.

“Of status exceeding his own” wrenched her thoughts in a new direction. That sounded an awful lot like a story a colleague had been looking into before the line of inquiry was unceremoniously quashed by t.f.i.t.n. about three weeks back. He was following a source that an off-planet cousin of the Ibn Rasheeds had vanished shortly after arrival in the Hive. Supposedly the young rake had wanted to fit a visit to the Cathedral into a Grand Tour. Smart money was on a quick hush-hush after a tragic accidental death – even the best liver genemods couldn’t handle all the drugs creative chymists high and low in the hive could come up with – but Jamal Bey Ibn Rasheed had visited the Inquirer in person, and that was the end of that …

Titia

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The name Rigg didn't ring a bell. She knew Grand Urbis Plaza well, though, a favourite for demagogues looking to snare a crowd from the pious masses, particularly on Shrivedays.

[Haval]

Nuala does not know what to make of that, 'The Inquirer? I think I've seen the billboards.' Newspapers had never interested her enough to pay much attention to them.

"So. You're asking what Mr. Vale is looking for in us. I think he mostly wants... a bunch of nobodies, or people who are good at acting the part."

She'll nod in agreement, 'People who no one will see coming.' Nuala could hardly take offense at that characterisation. 'The only thing is, if this Father Rigg is friendly with Redemptionists then he might have people close to him keeping watch for anyone who is a little too interested in whatever they're doing.'

[Bennosuke]

She'll nod in agreement, 'People who no one will see coming.' Nuala could hardly take offense at that characterisation.

"Or perhaps we're just people no one would miss if things spiral towards The Eye," Lyra says with an eye roll.

'The only thing is, if this Father Rigg is friendly with Redemptionists then he might have people close to him keeping watch for anyone who is a little too interested in whatever they're doing.'

But to this Lyra nods her head in affirmation, and adds, "And this does smell a bit of Red Redemptionist... strategy. Perhaps their camps might be a good place to start. Would it be too hard to pose as interested recruits?"

[LeSwordfish]

The Inquirer
"So in this case, the favor is... my secondment?"

She found herself curiously unable to concieve of what they were implying. Working for... them?



Arnest Cauldron, Laxday of the 25th week
"For... some of us more than others," Carys said carefully. "Two stories that crossed the newsdesk recently were related to this: someone did a profile of this chap, and I think one of these related deaths might have been on our radar too, before word came down from above to drop it. I'd bet someone's still got notes on those cases that didn't make it to print. And we might be able to find about other pilgrims dying by asking around the local ecclesiarchy - seems likely some of the less fiery priests would have a strong opinion about him.

[Thragka]

The Inquirer, previously

The Editor interrupted Hussain before the priest could reply. "As I had been saying, it's too soon to tell." Hussain shot back a combative look, but stayed quiet. "'Cooperation and assistance'," the Editor continued, "'which may keep you from your regular work for some time.' That was our brief. I don't think we should jump the gun here, Father."

Hussain effected a put-upon look. But he nodded in resigned agreement. He opened his hand, offering the key in his palm to Carys. His eyes asked: what do you say?

"Your possessions from your desk are in my office," the priest said in his trademark sanctimonious tone. "You may take them back. Except for the Cadet's Ball photographs. I have destroyed those. You certainly knew better than to think those would ever be in the public interest, Ms Callaghan."

[Bennosuke]

Lyra's scowl softens to an amused grin. "Fine," she says with a chuckle, "I suppose we can go with the more reasonable, safer option. I'd be happy to go investigate the Ecclesiarchy."

[Haval]

"Or perhaps we're just people no one would miss if things spiral towards The Eye," Lyra says with an eye roll.

'And if it gets that bad?' Nuala felt that someone had to say it. 'I wouldn't say I'm here by choice. How far do we think Mister Vane expects us to take this?'

But to this Lyra nods her head in affirmation, and adds, "And this does smell a bit of Red Redemptionist... strategy. Perhaps their camps might be a good place to start. Would it be too hard to pose as interested recruits?"

'Maybe. Just pretend to be mad at the right kind of people. I can't say I know enough about them to lie properly though.'

[Bennosuke]

'And if it gets that bad?' Nuala felt that someone had to say it. 'I wouldn't say I'm here by choice. How far do we think Mister Vane expects us to take this?'

Lyra ***** an eye at Nuala. "I would assume the expectations are rather... extreme. Let's just say I wasn't looking to be found when Mr. Vane's servo skull came to me. Damn thing seemed to know everything about me. Whomever this is has power and money; maybe a Noble family head or the like. I don't know what game we've been roped into playing, but I'd bet we're the pawns." There's genuine concern as well as disdain in Lyra's voice, but ultimately resignation.

'Maybe. Just pretend to be mad at the right kind of people. I can't say I know enough about them to lie properly though.'

Lyra replies offhand, "They're religious nutters who organize into raiding parties to go up to the Hiveskin to redeem it of mutants and heretics; which sounds pretty in line with Rigg's MO."

[LeSwordfish]

The Inquirer
That, at least got a smile out of Carys, and she took the key. "What's in the public interest and what the public finds interesting are two very different things."

She stood. "I'll collect what's left, then. And I'll come and visit for the Candlemas party, at least."

Arnest Cauldron, Laxday of the 25th week
Carys kept her own speculations as to their masters secret, but felt the comforting weight of her pistol. She had been threatened before but... wouldn't be expected to fight. Obviously.

"I'm sure we're just expected to ask questions. Whoever this is will certainly be able to afford a few sellswords for any... dirty work. Look, I'll go back to the Inquirer, get the notes on those old cases. If someone else talks to the preachers and we meet back here tomorrow evening?"

[Burden King]

Titia stayed mostly quiet as the other spoke, not sure what she could add as it seemed they each had their own methodology of finding information, with the woman from the Inquirer possibly having the most concrete information out of everyone. However, when she heard questions of just who it was that had called upon their service, she looked at the symbol she had been given long ago "I don't think he is a noble, at least not one of this Hive." She said, presenting the symbol for the other's to see "His representative that found me says we serve the Throne, so I think we are to do whatever we can." She said, looking to the others.

"In any case, meeting up tomorrow should be easy enough for me, though should we stick to groups just in case?" She asked, a little worried as most lower scum were about any paranoid fear, but their target was violent and growing a following "We might be able to avoid him until he comes back to recruit on Shrivday, but it's better safe than sorry."

[Haval]

To Lyra ‘A noble household interfering in other people’s business? Sounds about right. I have to wonder then if someone might have an issue with Rigg that they’re not telling us about.’ Titia seemed more optimistic about whoever they were working for. 'If it is like that maybe it'd make things easier on us. Seems to me like it's very easy to claim to work for the Throne. I want to keep an open mind until Mister Vane sees fit to show us some ID.'

On meeting with Redemptionists Nuala tries to think about how she would prepare for this if it was a normal job. She'll reply to Lyra, ‘Yeah but it’s best to know what not to say if you can avoid it. Just to avoid upsetting people. Maybe I just claim to have got religion for the first time.’ She's not ruling it out.

After Carys speaks, ‘Do we want to have a way of getting in contact with each other otherwise. I can’t say I trust any of you either but...since we’re all stuck with each other for the moment.’

To Titia on staying in groups, 'Not against it. It's not like I have much to do at the moment, but the Enforcers don’t usually like my sort being this far down hive.' She rolls her eyes, 'Scared we're going to steal stuff.'

[Bennosuke]

Lyra shrugs and says flatly, "Why don't we break up into a couple of groups? Some of us can go talking to some up spire ecclesiarchs, and see if they can dig up any dirt on Riggs. Another group of us can go pose as would be redemptionists learning to find out more about their workings, and see if Riggs comes up. Carys can go look into the newspaper records... and maybe some muscle can accompany her." Lyra pauses here to give the Society Correspondent a concerned once over, before continuing, "And we can all meet back here tomorrow night to discuss what we find. It was my bright idea to go say high to the Redemptionists, so I suppose I should volunteer for that gig."

[-Sentinel-]

"Do we want to have a way of getting in contact with each other otherwise. I can't say I trust any of you either but...since we're all stuck with each other for the moment."

"I have business cards from my transportation guild, if you need to contact me," said Nathias, handing out a few cards to the others. "If we do try to infiltrate the Red Redemption, I... know someone who can forge cover identities for us. No need for them to be elaborate; I don't think cults tend to examine people's papers too closely. But it's a good idea to have nothing that links you to your real name and hab."

"Why don't we break up into a couple of groups? Some of us can go talking to some up spire ecclesiarchs, and see if they can dig up any dirt on Riggs."

"You'll need a cover for this, too," interjected Nathias. "I don't think the Church is too forthcoming about any information that may reflect badly on them. Any ideas? Let's decide what questions we even want to ask them, and work from there."

Spoiler: OOC

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Lyra ***** an eye at Nuala.

Apparently you triggered the profanity filter. You may want to fix that.

[Haval]

To Lyra. 'You might want a second person if you're going to talk to the Redemption.' She gestures at the others, 'Might as offer to come along. I might look enough like the sort of person that'd join up anyway.'

Nuala will take Nathias' card with a grin, 'Now I only have to find a working phone. There's a bar called the Scaldbat's Rest near the Hiveskin where I go if I have to call anyone. Someone in there can probably get a message to me if there's a need.' The mention of a forger was interesting, 'Never had papers in the first place, but if your mate does good work.'

On the question of the Ecclesiarchs. 'Maybe we tell them we're worried this Rigg is the wrong sort of Priest. He's only here to scam the gullible out of their thrones.'

[LeSwordfish]

"I have a microbead," Carys said, "you can contact me by that. I can't imagine I'll need any muscle, I used to work there, they're all dears."

[-Sentinel-]

"I'll come with you, Miss Callaghan," offered Nathias. "I believe I can be more help questioning priests than infiltrating cults. I may be able to get us the papers we need to make ourselves look official sorts."

[Burden King]

"And we can all meet back here tomorrow night to discuss what we find. It was my bright idea to go say high to the Redemptionists, so I suppose I should volunteer for that gig."

Titia raised her hand, volunteering "I should probably go with you then, as much as I want to visit the church and set foot in the temples of the emperor, I wouldn't exactly fit in." She said, sounding a bit resigned to it. "Plus, I know the hive pretty well, and can get us to their camp, or help escape if we need to." Titia said, looking then to Nathias " Having papers in general would be nice, though it'll be odd I think if someone like me has access to that."