Cimbria Arctus's page

Arbitrator ID
Club
Clothing, Civilian (Good)x2
Filtration Plugs
Flask of Amasec
Grapnel
microbead
Photo Visor
Uniform (Good)

Flack cloak 3 head, arms, body, legs

C. M. Ironclaw Shotgun 30m S/2/- 1d10+4I pen: 0 clp: 12 rld: half Reliable, Scatter
+72 shells
H-O Creed-9 50m S/3/10 1d10+3I pen: 0 clp: 25/35 rld: half Silencer red dot sight (+10 BS on single shot)
170/200 rnds

Encumberance: 15.4kg/36kg

Awareness (100)
Inquiry +10 (100)
BS +5 (100)
Int +5 (100)
Sound Constitution x4 (400)
Rapid Reload (100)

+++++++++++++++++++INCOMING TRANSMISSION+++++++++++++++++++
To: Inquisitor <Fill in Name here>, Servant of Holy Inquisitorial Ordos
From: Technomancer 3rd Class, Markos Davian, Security Officer 1st Class, Indomitable Light, Mining Vessel, 5,423 Standard Units of Measure from Kalf, 6.595.825.41M, 2245hrs as translated from Techa-Lingua
Sir:

This Servant of the Omnissiah, Markos Davian genetic inheritor of Cyrus Davian, Security Officer 1st Class, Indomitable Light, Mining Vessel wishes to inform you that we have successfully retrieved Humanoid Life Form, Imperial Servant, Arbitrator Ident# 375846F, self-identified as Cimbria Arctus, designated as gender: female; from Space Hulk designated Malfia 25764831.532X4.

As you have requested, this Servant of the Omnissiah, Markos Davian genetic inheritor of Cyrus Davian, Security Officer 1st Class, Indomitable Light, Mining Vessel has made a record (see data spool 6.435.825.41M designated 145TS) of all actions taken in the retrieval of Humanoid Life Form, Imperial Servant, Arbitrator Ident# 375846F, self-identified as Cimbria Arctus, designated as gender: female. What follows is an individual reckoning of actions taken and observed; supplemented by accounts gleaned from servitors and base carbon, unaugmented, unblessed, life forms. Note that such supplementary testimony may contain inaccuracies as a result of faulty mnemonic capacity. All such testimony shall be marked.

On 6.435.825.41M relative time designation 0538.85 Indomitable Light, Mining Vessel, 5,028 Standard Units of Measure from Kalf received a report (see data spool 6.435.825.41M designated 145CK) indicating the presence of a stellar Ship/Mass colloquially known as a “Space Hulk”. We immediately gave praise to the Omnissiah, and tentatively gave the stellar Ship/Mass the designation Malfia 25764831.532X4 and proceeded enroute to intercept and analyze.

On 6.462.825.41M relative time designation 0538.85 Indomitable Light, Mining Vessel, 5,423 Standard Units of Measure from Kalf undertook a long range ocularia of stellar Ship/Mass colloquially known as a Space Hulk, given the designation Malfia 25764831.532X4 (see data spool 6.435.825.41M designated 146Annot) whereupon, after scanning multiple forms of mineralia, metallurgical and alchemical substances we noted multiple lifemasses. We deployed 12 servitor occularexi to identify the discovered lifemasses. (see data spool 6.435.825.41M 146TS). The occularexi survived contact with the lifemasses for exactly 23.5 microunits of time. Plenty of time to identify and draw up data-reams of collected knowledge. Lifemass identified as “Ork”.

On 6.462.825.41M relative time designation 1017.12 Indomitable Light, Mining Vessel, 5,423 Standard Units of Measure from Kalf registered a faint (4.2756 sub-decibels) salvation beacon. <play audio> Hidden inside the transmission (but easily detected by Mechanicum devices) was a confidential ident code designating Inquisitorial Authority (see Codex Lexicanum file 698725.95843 subset 145 Authority to re-direct Imperial Assets).

On 6.462.825.41M relative time designation 1245.98 Indomitable Light, Mining Vessel, 5,423 Standard Units of Measure from Kalf hastened to geosynchronous orbit with the salvation beacon and deployed retrieval-servitors.

On 6.465.825.41M relative time designation 0001.12 Indomitable Light, Mining Vessel, 5,423 Standard Units of Measure from Kalf received retrieval-servitors and one base carbon, unaugmented, unblessed, life form, later identified as Humanoid Life Form, Imperial Servant, Arbitrator Ident# 375846F, self-identified as Cimbria Arctus, designated as gender: female. Additionally she brought a satchel with indeterminate objects. After careful and surreptitious analysis it can be determined that the objects are data spools of undetermined origin and content.

To be continued...

The man crept along the gangway, his feet lightly padding along at an irregular pattern as he made his way further into the Indomitable Light. The auspex in his hand pulsed silently as it tracked the location of his target.

"Two flights down, three sections aftward..."

The gangway led to a large bulkhead door, which in turn opened to a long gallery of micro-forges; twin semi-transparent tubing, a full meter in diameter each fed mineral and metallugical powder into waiting troughs to be passed through the forges to create a liquid composite. Banks of servitors manned positions along the walls, tending to the smelting process. The man passed by them almost unnoticed. Almost.

***Halt flesh-form >BZZZZZZZZZZ< humanoid, and iden->CRACKLE< -tify***

The Skittari stepped out of an alcove hidden in the shadow of a forge and the bulkhead. The barrel of a Crusade- Pattern Hellgun rose and effortlessly followed the movement of the intruder. The war-class servitor rotated it's head to fully scan the man, and tilted it slightly to the left. The photoscopic sight in its skull-plate extended as it focused on the man.

"Well at least now I know I'm heading in the right direction..." mused the man wryly.

The man brought his mask up to cover his mouth with a mechanical grille as he spoke the words he was given. It was a code. A special code, known only to an elevated few. What was emitted from the grille however, was a stream of unintelligible static, broken by slight cracks and hissing.

The Skittari's head snapped upright, and it brought the Hellgun to an upright position and then stepped to the side to open the bulkhead door.

***New orders as->HISS< -similated. This unit shall accompany an- >N-N-N-< -d comply.***

"Why, that sneaky bastard...he didn't tell me the code would do *that*! I'll have to keep a closer eye on him!"

The Skittari clanged along down the narrow hallway, heading towards the lift that would take them both down to the holding cells. At each bulkhead they encountered additional gun-servitors. Each in turn was re-purposed and formed an inpenetrable metallic retinue.

The hallway outside holding cell 14b was crowded with servitors and guards, attending to the interrogation within. As the intruder and his retinue approached, a light sheen of sweat formed on his brow.

"Now or never..."

As the retinue passed within scanning distance, the guards and servitors turned in unison to regard the approaching group. A lone tech priest, too engrossed in examining the medical implements on a tray failed to notice the approach, turning only when he heard the long hiss and crackle of challenge emitting from the guardian servitors. Seconds yawned into eternity as the silence grew. The tech priest swiveled to regard the intruder, searching for recognition. A red light blinked into existence under the deep rust-colored hood.

"Oh crap..."

The clang of a dropped utensil rang discordantly through the hall.

In that small instant, Death swooped into the narrow hallway, waiting to pluck the life from selected subjects.

Blinding blue-white light barked from the barrels of multiple Hellguns, punching holes through guard and servitor alike. The tech priest was barely able to whisper a prayer to the Omnissiah before a hole was burned through his face and the back of his head. The intruder snapped off two shots at the Skittari in front of the door, melting brass and flesh alike.

It was over almost before it began. All around the stink of melted and burning flesh mingled with the acrid odor of scorched metal and ozone. The door listed partially open, the recumbent form of a dismantled Skittari twitching reflexively in the portal.

Inside was a mass of tubing and chains, supporting the weight of a slight, bluish figure. She slumped forward, supported by the tubing and chains as they looped under and around her bare arms. On her bald head was a lattice array of wires and sensors, leading to a bank of cogitators. Spools of data script recorded the passing moments. On a table to the other side was a satchel. The seal was unbroken, but the audio-sensoraria was clearly in the midst of being disassembled.

"Really Cimbria, this is no way to greet your Master..."

"M-muh-Mast..tra-hup...it'suh suh..trap. IT'S A TRA-huh-P!!! They...they know...they know you're co-huh-ming!"

"No my dear, we have some time."

"I see they gave you Verita. Highly illegal. It's a psychotropic, you know. Possession of such a substance constitutes a Moral Threat. You'll be suffering hallucinations for some time. Quite useless to me right now in your current state. Pity. I've always admired your facility with a firearm. And I dare say you'll be wishing for vengeance as soon as that nasty drug works its way through. I'm pleasantly surprised to see that you held your tongue! Not many can hold to their training while drugged as you are!"

"You are right about one thing though. They think I'm coming. Soon. They think I'm across the sector, near Acreage. At least, that's what I told them. You see my dear, I lied."

"Now let's get you out of here..."

So, you've finally come forth to talk to me directly eh? 'Bout time I suppose. I guess you'll want to know how I became a "feared agent of the dreaded Inquisition" too. Oh, don't be so surprised...I've been onto your act for a while. Tell you what, why don't you pour us two cups of that nice warm re-caf, and I'll spin a happy little yarn called "All About Me".

My childhood was fairly average...rising klaxon lessons, three hours on muscle toning and calasthenics to balance the humours (zero grav plays merry havok with muscle structure and bone density y'know) then it was off to the docks with Mum for inventory assessment and repacking, or off to forward deck 1435A to watch security files or man the long range sensoria arrays. Fun times! Oh what? You wouldn't think that's fun? Lemme tell ya, life on a Chartist vessel isn't fun.

"But wait Cimbria, I heard you were on a 'Hulk...not some facy-pants Chartist vessel plying the Long Night", right? Yeah you're right. Half right, but still. Leme ask ya this...them 'Hulks, they're made of ships, and rocks and assorted other stuff right? Sometimes...even Chartist vessels. Yeah, this story will take a turn for the surreal in the blink of an eye. In fact...it takes just enough time to transfer from real space to the Warp. Yep. Just that fast.

Just a dash of the ole heart-warmer from the flask and...Mmm, that's nice. This aint the cheap re-caf either. Strong and bitter, just the way I like it. Took it off a smuggler who was boosting archaeo-tech in sector. Ah don't give me that look. I called it in afterward. Poor bastard was taken right out of the sky too. If I hadn't pinched the re-caf, it would be minute particles floating somewhere in space. Would've been a complete waste. As it is, one of my mates got a long- waiting promotion, and I got some fresh re-caf and a fat whack of Thrones as well. Twice over no less! Job done and the Imperium is safer for it. No reason not to profit off it when you can! Oh, that amasec? Yeah, same thing. Some dodgy Guv was tithe-dodging and keeping the profit for himself. Got five cases of the stuff. Handed them out to the lads, sent two more "up-deck" for the Lords, and kept some for m'self. If I hadn't, some stodgy scroll spinner would've made them disappear just as quickly. Waste not want not, I always say.

So, I was at one time a native-born Imperial Sword. That's the old name of the ship. Really nice too. Oxygen cyclonics were top notch. Starch vats were full all the time. What more could a girl ask for? Come to think of it, if I could, I would've asked for reliable Gellar Field technicians. See now here's where it gets interesting! We were just outside Sentinel, cruising speed, and we break the Veil right proper. But there was a problem. The Gellars weren't firing properly. In the time it took to say "Fething hell!" the aft decks from Section 976 to 620 were awash in pure Warp fury. That included the Navigation Quadrant and all the Command decks. We stabilized the Fields as fast as we could, but for those sorry bastards, well, nothing could be done, but pray.

So there we were. No thrust. No navigation. No way to figure out which way we were facing, not like it mattered much at that point. All we could do was wait. Well, most of us. Some slowly went mad and fed themselves to the turbines, or burned a hole through their skull with a las pistol. The rest of us? Well, if you think a rescue was imminent, you'll have to pardon me while I laugh at you.

We drifted for months. Occasionally chunks of stray matter, attracted to the gravitational pull we had, made their way to us and bonded. Bit of ships once thought lost to the Warp too. Exciting times then. Sometimes the crew (mostly the low-deckers) would rise up in revolt. Then we would all have to take up arms to either repel them or end em. You have to realize, for us, at that time, we had no hope of ever getting out of the Warp. But some of us held on anyway. I guess because it was the only thing we knew.

One day, just like that, we were out. Well, out of the fire and back into the frying pan to be more precise. Once we were back in real space, nothing was keeping the muties and xenos from the other ships away. Plus the fact we still had a hardy bunch of mutated cannibal ex-crew rise up from the sub-decks to try and drag us down to the low decks for mealtime. Didn't go a single day without putting a slug or a blade into someone back then. Took us a hard-scrabble year to properly clear up, board up and block up a defensive perimeter around our little haven.

By that time the power core reserves were dwindling. New rounds of madness, suicide and the like. Parents died then. Figured we had about 2 months before the food stores wore out, and the lights to go out. By then there were five of us left. Ammo was getting particularly low and we were relying more on hand weapons than the guns.

Right about then, I guess the Emperor decided to throw us a break. We heard them coming from a long way off. Loud tromping footsteps, like some titan striding down the gangways. Ten armored giants in armor as black as death itself burst into the common deck, leading a man in similarly colored carapace armor. We were led out and onto a waiting command barge. They quarantined us and questioned us and poked and prodded for months afterward. Never saw Horst, Ivar, Seline, or Dax again. Reports show they broke under pressure, or were starting to show signs of mutation, and had to be put down.

I'm the only one left. I guess they saw something in me, so they trucked me off to an Arbitrator Camp near Fenksworld with orders to come right back when I was done. Since then I've been making my life easy and following orders. Only just now got orders to seek out a new Officer. I'll be heading out in the morning.

Well that's enough for story time. I know you came here to kill me. I know you're unhappy that I discovered your little band of mutants and heretics. They're being dealt with right now. I placed the order to assault before you stopped by. I can see by your eyes that you're wondering what's happening to you. You been given Somna. A dangerously narcotic drug. If the dose is calculated properly (and it has...), you'll fall into a nightmare filled coma. How did I dose you? The cups, you silly fool. Both of them had it. I just happened to have the antidote, right here in my flask! What? You really thought I put amasec in my re-caf? Huh. You should know better.

No drinking while on duty...

Cimbria Arctus has been called many things by her peers and superiors. Sociopath, mercenary, party-girl. But what none deny are the exhaustive results of her investigations. Examinations reveal that she is a brilliant mind, range records show that she is usually at the top of her marksmanship and close combat tests. Since surviving the deprivations of extended Warp travel, she has developed a taste for the finer things in life, and can be trusted to come out of any investigation with multiple crates of "contraband". The fact that she is generous, and never forgets to send some contraband "up deck" as she calls it, ensures that superior officers will turn a blind eye to her mercenary activity.