IC II: DH The Purity of Sacrifice

[rax]

To Milo, 'Ain't that the truth.' To Hound she'll only shrug, 'You know where I live right?'

"Medically speaking, my statement nonetheless holds true. Statistically, perhaps less so in your case," Hound answers with a shrug.

[bramblefoot]

Orla just regards Milo sceptically.

"tell me orla, have you heard of a book?" milo says, crossing his legs. "if you're interested, i could teach you your letters and such"

as hound mentions the terminal disease, milo shrugs. "i enjoy a cigar rarely. we all have our little indulgences, dont we?"

[rax]

as hound mentions the terminal disease, milo shrugs. "i enjoy a cigar rarely. we all have our little indulgences, dont we?"

"I'm sure you do," Hound answers.

[bramblefoot]

"I'm sure you do," Hound answers.

milo ignores the jab, and does the necessary prayers over his weaponry, mumbling the necessary litanies to ensure the gun is in proper working order. he ejects the laspack, blows some air inside the chemical cell chamber, and reinserts the laspack, pulling back on the charging handle with a satisfying tweee noise

he then moves on to his orthlack, breaking out the gun oil and a small ramrod with a brush on the end. he will clean out the barrel, tucking the magazine back in his pocket and liberally applying oil to the trigger mechanism "gotta shine like silver, otherwise it might jam" he mutters to no one in particular. he will reinsert the magazine, and pull back the bolt with a ka-chunk sound. "just as the god-emperor intended" he mutters quietly

[Haval]

"tell me orla, have you heard of a book?" milo says, crossing his legs. "if you're interested, i could teach you your letters and such"

Orla feels the condescension and will regard Milo levelly. 'Sister Grace tried with all that once but it didn't take. Find me something worth reading and maybe I'll think about it. Prayer books don't count.'

[BananaPhone]

Marcella


Marcella furrowed her brow slightly, a touch confused.

"You mean...you can't read?" she asked, genuinely puzzled over the idea.

[Haval]

"You mean...you can't read?" she asked, genuinely puzzled over the idea.

Orla shrugged, 'I can read a bar menu. More or less.'

[bramblefoot]

milo will pull a small book from his backpack, and proffer it to orla. "my tutors got me hooked on these little novels" he says. the book is cheaply bound, and has a lurid title that reads a hive in danger! arbites beat back mutant hordes with a picture of a scantily clad noblewoman hanging on the arm of a handsome arbitrator.

"have a read" he says. "its fluff, but its interesting fluff"

[BananaPhone]

Marcella

Orla shrugged, 'I can read a bar menu. More or less.'

Marcella blinks in surprise, clearly not used to such words. Arl, the feral worlder, she could understand...but someone raised here, in a hive? Even the Underhive?

It made the Psyker feel a further mote of gratitude for her path in life. Had she remained on that manufactorum satellite in orbit, perhaps she too would have turned into an illiterate with a 35 year old life expectancy.

[Haval]

"have a read" he says. "its fluff, but its interesting fluff"

Orla will take the book to get a closer look at the cover. 'Now I know that none of them look like that under their helmets. The lady as well probably.'

[bramblefoot]

Orla will take the book to get a closer look at the cover. 'Now I know that none of them look like that under their helmets. The lady as well probably.'

milo cracks a grin. "your prolly right, but dont tell that to the arbitrators" he does a half laugh. "as to the lady, well we'll see" he will let orla have the book "just so you know, nothing is as it seems" he says

[BananaPhone]

Marcella

Marc' eyes swiveled in their sockets to see what the Priest was handing over to the wayward soul: a B-grade action novel with guns, mutant shooting and boobs. Lurid tripe. The Psyker silently rolled her eyes at the scandalous material.

Though in many ways, Marc remained endlessly fascinated by Orla, in the sense that there for the grace of the Emperor go I. She waited until Orla and Milo stopped talking, seeing it as rude to butt in. Once she saw her opening however, "What do you do for fun down there?" she asked abruptly towards the Underhiver.

[bramblefoot]

Marcella

Marc' eyes swiveled in their sockets to see what the Priest was handing over to the wayward soul: a B-grade action novel with guns, mutant shooting and boobs. Lurid tripe. The Psyker silently rolled her eyes at the scandalous material.

Though in many ways, Marc remained endlessly fascinated by Orla, in the sense that there for the grace of the Emperor go I. She waited until Orla and Milo stopped talking, seeing it as rude to butt in. Once she saw her opening however, "What do you do for fun down there?" she asked abruptly towards the Underhiver.

milo catches marcellas eye and shrugs as if to say she brought this upon herself milo will watch as marcella attempts to strike up conversation with the underhiver ,with no small degree of interest. milos always been a people person, and he watches as those less capable, or so he deems, chat up the scrappy underhiver who prolly hasnt had three square meals in her entire life, much less anything decent

[Haval]

Orla will pocket the book with no indication of caring about it one way or the other. To Marcella, 'Drinking mostly. I used to be into obscura more when I was younger but it takes up too much time. I've usually got stuff to do.' Orla will suffer the attention with good grace but regards the younger woman like she was an overly curious child. 'What do you do for fun?'

[BananaPhone]

Marcella

Overly curious child was a relatively apt descriptor, as Marc peered at Orla and listened intently.

"You like mostly getting drunk?" she confirmed, her tone impassive rather than judgmental, as if she were just confirming details to add to her field notes.

"Me?" Marc asked, a little surprised. "Oh...weekend services, of course," she smiled, referring to the regular mass as per the Imperial Faith. "I like watching the Scrumball - go Ripper Jacks!" she half-giggled, before thinking again, "I've been working on my pilots license too, and my medical license. I did my last tests on those recently so," she brought her gloved hands up with crossed fingers.

[bramblefoot]

milo will perk up at the result of marcellas pilots license "when you get a chance, id love to be allowed to ride along" he gushes. "my last flight was ages ago, and it was prolly a lot more plush than this one will be"

[Haval]

'I don't drink alone usually. You can never tell who you might run into, even away from the places where people know the Raptore.' Where was the harm in explaining. 'There are places that you can go to drink in the Underhive. I've supplied some of them with midhive booze myself. The ****tiest midhive bar is nicer but at least they have nice chairs. Some of them have music. Sometimes it's nice to go somewhere where there's no chance of someone trying to kill you.' Orla is matter of fact about that last point.

On Marcella, 'I was raised with all that.' Meaning the services. 'But it didn't take. No offence to Him obviously, but I figure he's got better things to worry about then what I'm doing at the weekends.' The medical thing did interest her, 'You learning all that stuff? Is that from Hound?'

[BananaPhone]

Marcella

milo will perk up at the result of marcellas pilots license "when you get a chance, id love to be allowed to ride along" he gushes. "my last flight was ages ago, and it was prolly a lot more plush than this one will be"

Marc tilted her head to look back over at Milo, her chin-lengthed blonde curls swaying as she did so. She smiled at his proposition.

"You're Mr Moneybags; fuel isn't cheap! So yeah, I'm more than happy for you to come along!" she giggled.

'I don't drink alone usually. You can never tell who you might run into, even away from the places where people know the Raptore.' Where was the harm in explaining. 'There are places that you can go to drink in the Underhive. I've supplied some of them with midhive booze myself. The ****tiest midhive bar is nicer but at least they have nice chairs. Some of them have music. Sometimes it's nice to go somewhere where there's no chance of someone trying to kill you.' Orla is matter of fact about that last point.

On Marcella, 'I was raised with all that.' Meaning the services. 'But it didn't take. No offence to Him obviously, but I figure he's got better things to worry about then what I'm doing at the weekends.'

At this, however, Marc appeared more serious, even worried for half a second. Her eye-lids noticeably expanded momentarily before going back to normal, as if she had heard something positively shocking - because she had.

Internally, the Psyker wanted to hold her heart to her chest and gasp, but she had to provide a cool front. Had they made a massive mistake brinigng Orla along? Was she secretly a heretic? Having heard the word of the Emperor but ignoring the duty mankind owed for his sacrifice and protection? What if the Interrogator thought as such? Would he be "disappointed" in them all for bringing a potential apostate with them to learn the outer-workings of the Inquisition and its holy mission?

Marc's heart-beat accelerated briefly, as if she were on a rollercoaster, before slowly subsiding. For a moment she wanted to turn to Milo, the priest, and see his reaction, but the man had just spoken about orgies, cigars and booze while dispensing action graphic novels to the faithless. So maybe it was up to her? As a Psyker she had seen the horrors of the Warp held at bay by the Emperor's light, and she had stood in his presence, received his notice, if even for a moment. Perhaps by re-kindling even a small spec of that emanation through Orla, she could play her part to buying mankind a few more seconds.

Reaching up to her neck, Marcella reached behind it and undid a slim, gold chain and withdrew it form her person, an icon of the Imperial cult dangling at the end, its skull-symbol catching the light. Holding the item in her right palm, Marcella conjured a mote of her psychic energy to quickly move it across the air and into Orla's lap.

"I know the nightmare of the warp; His light keeps them at bay. I would advise that you wear that somewhere visible on your person where we are going," she said gently. It didn't sound like a warning, a demand or a threat, but how it was intended: friendly advice.

The medical thing did interest her, 'You learning all that stuff? Is that from Hound?'

Marc's mood seemed to shift immediately, her eyes widening a little and her bright smile returning, "Oh, hehe, he is an excellent teacher. I developed a foundation at my...boarding school..." she said oddly, clearly trying to think of a way to phrase it, "and H agreed to take it the next step. If I passed, I get my license!" she beams happily.

[bramblefoot]

milo sucks in a sharp intake of breath, and made the sign of the aquilla. "obscura is illegal in the imperium proper, and the punishment is a short drop and a sudden stop" he makes a scarily realistic impersonation of the face a dead man makes when hes been strangled by a noose. "id suggest you not mention that, and pray none of the arbitrators here about that"

[Haval]

Orla doesn't react to Marcella's display of psychic ability but will treat the warning seriously. 'You mean we're going somewhere worse then the Underhive? Fair enough. I'm not against getting extra help if you reckon you don't need it.' Orla will attach the chain to her own neck.

On Marcella's medical training. 'You're useful to have around.'

To Milo, 'You'd have to kill a lot of people in that case, including in the midhive. Lot of obscura addicts everywhere. And in case you haven't noticed, I'm an Underhiver smuggler who isn't normally supposed to be up here. Most of what I am is illegal.'

[bramblefoot]

milo will clap his hands "ill be your piggy bank, as long as you dont request too many frivolous expenditures" he says.

to orla "sweetness, im a priest, ive given the last rites to convicted murderers and worse." he cracks a grin. "you wanna hear about it?"

[rax]

To Milo, 'You'd have to kill a lot of people in that case, including in the midhive. Lot of obscura addicts everywhere. And in case you haven't noticed, I'm an Underhiver smuggler who isn't normally supposed to be up here. Most of what I am is illegal.'

Hound perks up when Orla brings up her normal business. "While you are working with us, how you ordinarily secure an income is of no relevance. For our purposes, only your skills and contacts are of interest," he interjects.

[Haval]

Orla's eyebrow raises at being referred to as 'sweetness', 'Worse then a murderer?'

To Hound, 'I figured. And if I was worried about what was legal I never would have left the orphanage, let alone the Underhive.'

[bramblefoot]

milo smiles, and begins. "it was my sixth month of last rite duties when they brought in this massively muscled hooligan, fully encapsulated in a strait-cape" he says. "they flip his hood back, and the strait-cape is bulging as this guy is desperately trying to break out." he sighs, and rubs his eyes. "never seen it before or again, but he told me about a couple places where his last stash could be" he scans the car, and will fall quiet, but not before saying "believe me, you wouldnt want to mess with him. six feet of muscle, bone, and scar tissue."

"he said it was somewhere in the lower hive near the southwest ground pylon" he says, and will say no more

Spoiler: ooc

Show

bennosuke, feel free to use all or none of this, im just spitballing

[Haval]

'Now if it was me I would have have wanted to go dig it up. Did you check to see?'

[bramblefoot]

'Now if it was me I would hsve have wanted to go dig it up. Did you check to see?'

milo grins "theres only three places near the southwest ground pylon he could have hid his stash. the first is in an old plague warded building. we'd need masks and wraps to enter safely and dig it up. the second is an alley thats said to be haunted by the ghost of a vengeful arbitrator, murdered before her time" he shudders. "took two steps in, and my breath frosted. another step, and i heard hobnailed boots" he takes a swig from his canteen, and continues. "something is haunting that alley" he says. "the third is what the lower hive dregs call death row" he sighs "didnt enter that, cause you could hear the screams and gibbers from several hundred yards away"

he will finish up with a "he must have had something big if he was hiding it in those locations, but i wonder what?"

[Bennosuke]

Eventually the train arrives; a rickety and rusted looking series of five cars that have been heavily tagged and defaced. The enforcers scan each acolyte's forged ID badge, eyeing each with marked suspicion, Orla especially. She and Milo are the two with the least familiarity with this ride. They are shuffled onto a car, joined by a pair of enforcers, who do their best to stay on the opposite end of the car. Inside is just as dilapidated as outside, an unwelcoming and vandalized ruin. Plastic seats line the windowless propaganda covered sides of the car, chairs covered in garbage and in some cases human excrement. The smell in the train is an unrelenting and unforgiving stew.

Moments after the acolytes and the enforcers have boarded, the doors close with a ding. Moments later the engines whine and the train shudders to start, vibrating and rocking as it picks up speed. The continuous sound and motion would almost be lulling, if it where not for the occasional screech of metal, or sudden jostling of the cart, causing all seated to nearly take air. Up and up through the bowels of Hive Haphaestein the train ascends.

After almost an hour the train screeches to a halt. Stopping off in the midhive. As the acolytes exit, their cards are again checked by enforcer security. The acolytes find themselves back in the midhive, not too far from their compound, but by now it is evening and the gas lights have been dimmed to signify the setting of the sun. They make their way with haste to the compound to arrive before curfew. They pass into the compound with after several computerized security checks, including a scanning of their cards. Though a relatively plain looking hab building from the outside, inside the compound is an austere and lavish home base. Though not as ornately decorated, or richly furnished as Drimmle's own apartment, the compound is all tall ceilings and creature comforts. The moment they make it through the door, they are greeted by Interrogator Ezekiel. A handsome man in his early thirties, The Interrogator is dressed in a fine green tailcoat. In one hand he clutches a book under his arm, and the other he keeps clasped on his belt. He grins roguishly as the group enters. Addressing the group he says, "Welcome, welcome. You were gone long. I hope you were successful." He eyes Marcella, casting an almost cold if not impish stare. "That was... an interesting means of communication," he says, the grin returning to his face, "Perhaps we will need to work on an alternative form of reaching each other over longer distances." He then turns to Orla, "And you must be our newest... friend." All this security, and the strangeness of the compound must surely be raising further alarm bells for Orla, but the Interrogator does not give her a chance to speak. Instead he says to the group, "I take it you have... briefed the little mouse on what we are doing here? You know The Master requires absolute secrecy in our activities.... I suppose she can be silenced, later if necessary."

[Haval]

Earlier

To Milo, 'Screaming and gibbering ain't so bad. For all you know it was someone coming off a bender.' Orla will glance towards Marcella, 'And I don't know much about ghosts but maybe Marcella might.'

Later

Whoever they were working for had money and clout. That was obvious from the way someone was casually able to pull enough strings to get Orla on the train. She had assumed some sort of noble house was at the bottom of this, or perhaps organised crime, but the extent of the security gave Orla pause. The man in the green coat was exactly the sort of person she pictured as the boss in this situation though.

Orla will blanch a little at being referred to as a 'mouse' but she'll do her best to present herself as not being particularly bothered by this man and this talk of silencing her. Who exactly would she tell anyway? If there was a point he'd presumably get to it eventually.

[BananaPhone]

Marcella

Orla doesn't react to Marcella's display of psychic ability but will treat the warning seriously. 'You mean we're going somewhere worse then the Underhive? Fair enough. I'm not against getting extra help if you reckon you don't need it.' Orla will attach the chain to her own neck.[/COLOR]

The Psyker rose a slender, blonde eyebrow at the misunderstanding. She decided not to say anything though, instead allowing Orla to figure it out for herself as they continued.

Marcella had gone the rest of the trip in silence, her eyes closing over once more as she tried getting as much shut eye as she could. Such was her mind that the Psyker was able to sleep through the worst of it, from the acrid smell to the sudden holts and motions of the carriage - the girl remained slumberous. It wasn't until they arrived at the station that her eyes slowly opened up again, blinking away the grains of a sleep as she smacked and licked her lips once and shook her head, groaning gently as she brought her gloved hand up to rub at it.

"Ughh, can't wait to get home..." she uttered to herself, rolling her shoulders. "Have a bath, decent sleep..."

The Psyker should return her gun to hanging from under her right shoulder within her coat and sling her backpack across her shoulders and shuffled out with the others.

When they arrived at the station and the Midhive, Marcella took the time to 'freshen up', by heading into one of the bathrooms. There, she removed her gloves and splashed water over her face. She'd pull out a little kit, including some face wipes, and apply them, and by the time she emerged, the pinkness of her eyes and tired look was gone, replaced by her usually sunny demeanour.

When they arrived at the compound, Marcella was humming gently to herself as they passed through further security barriers until arriving at the Interrogators chambers. There, the Psyker smiled, remaining quiet while being addressed, but a slight bashful blush passed her cheeks when the Interrogator addressed her personally. Like a school girl being spoken to by her secret crush, the implication of approval was gratifying, given that months ago she could barely move a coin.

"Thank you Sir, I agree. Though...this method has the benefit of being untraceable and completely secure," her flush rescinding.

When it came time to report, however, and consider Orla's position, Marcella waited a moment to see if anyone else would speak. Should they not, she would, her chin up, voice a mixture of supplicant and authority as she offered an informal report.

"This is Orla," she gestured to the other woman.

"She is a member of the Raptore clan to whom we have reached a general accord. We can move through their territory unmolested and we receive information from their scouts. She is a smuggler we have hired and who has proven helpful in navigating the Underhive and for information about the Torra and Sabay. She knows about the weapons and the players involved, but not...us", the implication being The Inquisition, "to either her or her clan. We believed that that was better off left to your discretion to divulge, Sir."

The psyker allowed a pause for whatever came next, from the Interrogator, Orla herself or another of the group.

When the moment came, the Psyker would finish.

"As I mentioned in my prior...communication. The Raptore have had all of their tunnels simultaneously closed off, effectively blinding them to the rest of the Underhive. The Tora and the Sabbay appear to be coordinating their efforts in at least a ceasefire and another 'team' has recently travelled from the Mid-to-Upper hive to meet with Tora leadership.

It is just reasoned speculation at this time, but we currently believe that Drimmle has sent another credit guild team down to the underhive to pay off the Tora and Sabay into working together to help ease the smuggling of the weapons into the Hive. It was the Tora who interrupted the prior shipment last time, and so instead of a costly gang war, they've bought the gangs off. They have then blinded the Raptore, but haven't moved into their territory, that suggests that they are now focusing on bringing more weapons in.

There could be another explanation. Perhaps it wasn't a credit guild team, maybe it was another player. But the only way we believe the two gangs, who previously hated each other, would work together is if they were being paid good money to do so. We currently think that Drimmle has betrayed us, or has at least had his hand forced by those who he serves. We had two options: fight our way through the gangs to disrupt the next shipment and attempt to arrest Captain Casimirre, or return to the Upperhive and disrupt the flow of funds making the gangs play nice. We're not an assault team, Sir, so we chose the latter. If Drimmle is an active traitor, or whether he has had his hand forced - how would you like us to handle it, Sir?"

A slight pause.

"If you wish, I could...interrogate him there, or we could return him here for a lengthier period of...questioning."

[bramblefoot]

milo will stretch and do the same, prepping for another trip back to their 'friend' who will invariably demand something. he will bow his head as a sign of respect, moving to let orla approach if necessary

his words to orla still echo in his mind "this is the big leagues here. we are but minnows swimming with sharks. play it safe, and you may grow"