"He will live. I have a question for all of you, do any of you know of seven statuettes with blank faces?"
"He will live. I have a question for all of you, do any of you know of seven statuettes with blank faces?"
"He will live. I have a question for all of you, do any of you know of seven statuettes with blank faces?"
"He will live. I have a question for all of you, do any of you know of seven statuettes with blank faces?"
"I'd rather not think of those statuettes... they knew we were coming, Uriah."
"Are we just pawns in somebody else's game of chess?"
"We have to think about it. Do you know how long ago the statuettes were found?"
Of course they have known about us. Otherwise there would have been no ambush on the Void Needle. Otherwise Druuther, and Emrit wouldn't be dead. Sunshine...
"What figurines you guys talking about?"
Funny how Stroingili is always at the right place at the right time. Helping me with Sunshine. Picking these guys up...twice.
"So Stroingili, who are your friends?"
"I saw them in a vision, while looking at the statue at the hospice, before we entered it. What I am trying to figure out is how long ago did they know. I am thinking a powerful diviner is involved depending on how far back they knew."
"I can answer that. Not here though."
"A lot of things cannot be discussed here, including our Master's orders."
"We have to think about it. Do you know how long ago the statuettes were found?"
Funny how Stroingili is always at the right place at the right time. Helping me with Sunshine. Picking these guys up...twice.
"So Stroingili, who are your friends?"
The rickshaw exits the elevated Geltdown Central Artery. Speeding down a little-used off-ramp into the much less congested industrial district, you find yourselves passing the occasional slow moving cargo-eight haulers and transport trucks that lumber down the wide streets that are sandwiched between the cavernous warehouses and brooding manufactories.
Stroinigli chuckles to himself, turning his head back slightly to spot Savalos sitting near the connecting window.
"Oh-ho, greets agin, we meets agin, stranjur-fren! How is the lady-fren, better I trust?"
He turns back when you ask the question about his friends, averting eye contact.
"Lotsa frens Stroinigli has, made some new ones today, he has, yes?"
"Lady friend isn't doing so hot..." I am sure you already know the answer to that Twist.
"Yeah we are buds, but you still didn't answer my question." Never trust a man who can't look you in the eye.
"Since your our friend that we know we can trust... Figured it would be good to know the names of your friends who would also have our backs. So we could do the same for them. Looking out for one another, like friends do. Proper like." Running out of patience. Tired of talking in circles with you Stroinigli. Lost enough people today. Not going to loose Dunkan, and Aebena.
Johnnie rubs his temples as he mutters, "The statuettes were found in different crime scenes over the course of 2 years. The Eviscerator supposedly left them there."
"But I get the feeling that whoever was responsible for that knew that we would be coming. How he came up with that info, your guess is as good as mine."
Johnnie looks at Uriah, "Can psykers see the future?"
"We all are somewhat sensitive to the immaterium. My being a voidborn increases that sensitivity, but to answer your question, yes, there are those of us who can feel and see events in the future. We will talk further about this in private, after we get some rest."
"Lady friend isn't doing so hot..." I am sure you already know the answer to that Twist.
"I do, fren, I'm sorry to hear 'dat."
"Yeah we are buds, but you still didn't answer my question." Never trust a man who can't look you in the eye."Since your our friend that we know we can trust... Figured it would be good to know the names of your friends who would also have our backs. So we could do the same for them. Looking out for one another, like friends do. Proper like." Running out of patience. Tired of talking in circles with you Stroinigli. Lost enough people today. Not going to loose Dunkan, and Aebena.
The rickshaw turns on to a nearly deserted access road between a crumbling mycovictuals warehouse and a dilapidated processing plant. As the sky darkens overheard, your eyes look up and out of the open carriage to see the looming shadows cast by the gargantuan cluster of closely spaced pipes that emerge at a steep angle from the ground. The landmark is an obvious one, Stroinigli has brought you to the processing plant concealing the door to Dunkan Danicos' hidden complex. None of you recall giving him the precise directions. As the rickshaw rolls to a halt, the mutant turns to look back into the carriage, staring pointedly at Savalos, his neck tendrils twisting animately.
When he next speaks, the underhive accent is completely absent from his voice, which now sounds as perfectly modulated in its Low Gothic inflection as an Administratum scribe making dictation. There is an edge to his voice that mirrors Savalos' impatience.
"I am your friend, Thul. Whether you realize it or not."
"Now might be the correct juncture to remind you that you are not the only ones taking risks in this endeavor. Now go, I need to make myself scarce. Dunkan is waiting for you."
To emphasize his point, the twist punches the button on scratched up plex-glass fare counter in the center console, and faded, red-backlit lettering glows from the counter's shell, reading "FARE COMPLETE".
My voice softens. "You gave me the answer I needed Stroingili. I just needed to make sure." As I start to exit his ride I turn to Stroingili. "Everyone at the Mercy is dead. Sunshine may well wish she was too at the end of it all." I scan the area before I make my way to the door. I know its going to take a couple of minutes to get Iacton, Ishmael and the homeless guy out of the vehicle. I click the safety back on my pistol. Rather use my duct sweeper for dirty work anyway.
Albrek looks at the suddenly well-spoken twist, his slack jaw working without saying anything for a few moments. Clearing his throat, he steps out of the rickshaw.
"Alright, just when I think I am starting to understand things, it all gets turns upside down again. I know when I'm over my head. C'mon Johnnie, let's make sure the way is clear."
Albrek shoulders the heavy autocannon on one arm, while taking his lasgun from the other before stalking off toward the crumbling pile of bricks that leads up to the shattered gap in the processing plant's wall.
He shakes his head back and forth the whole way.
I will help Iacton out of the rickshaw first. Then I will help Uriah with Ishmael sharing the burden. Though I want to keep one hand free so I can use the ring that Dunkan gave to me.
"Someones gonna to need to babysit our homeless friend."
When Savalos helps me with Ishmael, I will nod my thanks.
Johnnie assists Uriah and Sav with Ishmael.
For Rook
Iacton limps after the others, only thankful that he can soon rest.
Johnnie assists Uriah and Sav with Ishmael.
For Rook** spoiler omitted **
As Albrek cautiously clambers up the shattered pile of fallen masonry, Rico and Uriah carefully lift the unconscious form of Ishmael off of the floor of the rickshaw carriage and lead him away, each holding him under one shoulder. The cleric's blistered face and neck are difficult to look at, already fading from a livid red hue to puckered, whitish scar tissue from the psyker's ministrations. Ivaanov prods the rambling indigen forward with his iron staff, Iacton limping wearily behind, still ready to act if the scruffy man attempts anything untoward.
Savalos watches as Kalaziel flies from the roof of the idling rickshaw to alight upon one of the titanic pipes erupting from the ground adjacent to the warehouse. She stares down at him with the preternaturally aware, piercing eyes of a bird of prey, all traces of the child who looked upon him as he climbed the overpass fence, gone for now.
As Sav starts to turn away, a voice calls to him from within the velocipede. He looks upon Stroinigli again, who is looking back at him, a toothy smile opening over his flicking neck tendrils.
"A word of advice, Savalos Thul, for you and all of your companions. The events we all find ourselves embroiled in, they are orchestrated by entities whose power we cannot imagine, and were set into motion long before any of us first drew breath. You cannot hope to understand it, so don't even try. Play your part, and you may yet live to see the final act."
Laughing to himself, he adjusts the windshield visor and puts the rattling rickshaw into gear, revving the engine.
"Until we cross paths again, 'fren', watch your back."
The velocipede speeds off down the roadway, failing to signal properly as it takes an illegal lefthand turn, and then it is gone. Seeing the others have already entered the half-collapsed plant, Savalos turns to follow.
"I fear that Ishmael may not live through the day without immediate medical attention, Uriah."
I nod to Stroingili paying heed to his warning.
I up to the secret door, and use the ring Dunkan gave me to open it. I wonder who we will see inside. I wonder if we will finally have the opportunity to heal and rest. Tired minds make stupid mistakes. Better to shake off this fatigue before we make our next move. I pray Sunshine can wait that long for us.
I wonder looking at the raptor like stare of Kalaziel if anything of the little girl Maia is left in there. Or was what I saw climbing the fence a trick of the mind?
"I fear that Ishmael may not live through the day without immediate medical attention, Uriah."
"I fear that Ishmael may not live through the day without immediate medical attention, Uriah."
"I fear that Ishmael may not live through the day without immediate medical attention, Uriah."
The slanting rays of the artificial sunrise shining through the hole in the roof illuminate the floating spores from the tattermold that clings tenaciously to the damp walls inside the ruined processing plant. They also shine like a beacon on Sigmunt, who leans awkwardly against one of the crumbling walls, skin filmed with fever sweat, eyes red-rimmed and bleary. He holds an autopistol in a shaky hand, pointing it at the burly Yellobouros ganger who lays on the ground close to the corroded blast door. The thug has regained consciousness, but lays upon his side, his legs seemingly still numb and useless from the effects of the shock maul. He openly sneers at you all when you step closer, and you quickly realize that there is very little doubt you interrupted his plans. It appears that once he got his legs under him again, he was going to take care of the barely conscious Duct Wolf and make his escape.
Dragging his legs with both meaty hands, he clumsily forces himself up to a sitting position and bellows at you, his voice slurred and wet-sounding from his recent electrocution.
"Feckers! Let me GO! What'd you DO to me?! I can't feel my fecking LEGS!"
I walk up to Sigmunt covered head to toe in blood. My furs still soaked. Red droplets pooling on the floor in front of the Yelloback Ganger. Beyond exhaustion, and any caring I look at him with an expression like I really don't give a Frag.
Looking up at Sigmunt. "So anything new?"
Johnnie moves to the ganger's blind spot and aims his shotgun.
"You will we released when we deem fit." Iacton limps closer to the man and draws his sword. "Has he attempted to escape since he woke?"
Sigmunt stares blankly at Savalos. Although the wound on his thigh was packed with antibiotic paste and wadding by Albrek earlier, the bandage covering it is now stained with a sickly, putrid green fluid. Just being near the hitman's leg makes you want to gag uncontrollably, so awful is the smell. Sigmunt speaks slowly, his voice almost as slurred as his prisoner.
"Not...feeling...all that good... Thul. Sick...real sick..."
"You will we released when we deem fit." Iacton limps closer to the man and draws his sword. "Has he attempted to escape since he woke?"
"You are gonna let me go now or the Yellobouros are you gonna bleed you, all of YOU!"
As if recalling some of the last few hours events, the ganger's mouth hangs slightly open in a stupid expression of amnesiac confusion as he begins to piece his recent past together again.
"Where the feck am I anyway? What were those things? Who the hell are you, anyway?"
Ivaanov examines the corroded door carefully, his augmented eyes behind the goggles drawn to the curious, socketed control panel suspiciously.
"Intriguing. What is this place?"
"You are gonna let me go now or the Yellobouros are you gonna bleed you, all of YOU!"
"Where the feck am I anyway? What were those things? Who the hell are you, anyway?"
"You ain't gonna be bleeding anyone... Who am I? I'm one big bad ticked off Wolf who saved your sorry arse. Be thankful we took you along. Otherwise those things would have sunk there teeth into your flesh like your partners. So I suggest you sit up and play nice. I'm tired and my trigger finger is twitchy. So I am only going to ask this once. Where is the Withdrawn Viel holding up."
"Brek, can you change out Sigmunts bandage. Its not looking so good."
"Where the feck am I anyway? What were those things? Who the hell are you, anyway?"
"We are doing the Emperor's work. A prisoner does not need to know more."
The Yellobouros ganger looks from Savalos to Iacton trying to puff himself up despite his dire situation. He cannot hide his obvious discomfort when looking at the blood drenched Duct Wolf and the sinister cloaked man carrying the blade. So, he resorts to bluster.
"Withdrawn wha..? Feck you! Feck both of you! Let me go!"
Leaning over Sigmunt, Albrek begins dry heaving uncontrollably. He steps back in spite of his desire to render aid, covering his mouth with one hand.
"Whatever this infection is, Sav, it isn't anything normal. I can feel the heat baking off of him, and I haven't ever seen anything like that kind of wound-rot. He needs as much help as Ishmael. We need to get the two of them to a medicae facility of some kind, or Johnnies right, both of them are goners."
Looking somewhat reluctantly at the sealed door, Albrek chews his lip.
"Let's just hope that Danicos has something like that... down there."
I walk toward the door. Looking back at the Yelloback. "You better think real hard on who your friends are, and what use you can be to us." I use the ring.
His cold glare never leaving the Yelloback, Savalos makes his way to the bulky airlock door, the portal still partially concealed by the hanging curtains of black, thread-like tattermold. He is impressed in spite of himself. The secret gateway to Danicos' redoubt beneath the Gear Box is hidden in plain sight; no cursory glance or even intent examination of the corroded, rust-caked door would even begin to hint at what waits beyond.
Hearing the echo of Ivaanov's probing question, Savalos can't help but wonder as well. What is this place?
Carefully, unsure of what countermeasures may be in place, but not taking any chances after seeing what Danicos is capable of with the Gaelum, the hiver extends his hand. The bulky, gear-shaped ring fits into the corresponding socket with a perfect seal. A pneumatic hiss escapes the panel, and the hand holding the ring is slowly turned with the ring in a counterclockwise direction, to the point where the acolyte nearly has to twist his arm to keep from having his wrist wrenched. When the ring stops turning, it remains firmly mag-locked into the panel's housing. Sav has a moments worth of trepidation, wondering if he should yank his finger free, but the seemingly interminable delay ends just as the thought crosses his mind. With a rapid fire drumming and cycling, as of countless tumblers and servos engaging, the vault-like blast door irises open. The panel hisses again, gently releasing the ring, and to the relief of the person attached to it, his finger as well.
I signal Savalos to enter, and the rest of us to follow.
I walk inside. "Anyone home?" I'll let the Yelloback think about what I said... Make it sweat a bit.