"I requisitioned a crate of firebombs earlier in the week Magistrate Arctus, if it will aid the mission you are welcome to use them." The psyker states as he glances toward the moves his hand toward the dataslate to examine it.
The Vector's head pops back toward the inquisitor for a moment as a thought emerges.
"Will we be granted access to additional light sources? The machine spirits of such devices could be targeted if the ruinous powers are involved. It becomes more difficult to slay a heretic you are unable to see. Beyond this I have no other questions. We are to enter the mine and determine if the ruinous powers truly dwell there. The Commissariat will open the gates for us. We will extinguish any threats and removing any dangers, your servo-skull will ensure a record is made in case the threat is greater than that which we can survive."
The psyker states as he turns his attention back to the slate yet to be grabbed.
Just a map sir, I'm sure the forces on the ground will have one for us.
Still off in his own world, Titus remarks absently. "We seem to have all we need,either we will prove useful tools or our deaths should at the very least teach you something about our enemy."
Way to keep a positive outlook there, Titus. Cimbria's light tone indicates she is kidding, as she reaches out for the dataslate. Reading it's contents, Cimbria commits what she can to memory. Satisfied, she slides the dataslate to Vector.
Sharben nods. "Glad to see you've all got your heads on screwed right. Now if you'll excuse me..." With that, he inclines his head towards you and departs from the room.
A few minutes after he leaves, a voice can be heard over the ship's vox system. "All hands brace for impact. The Angelae Imperator will be transitioning from the warp into the Materium within T-minus twenty minutes."
A navy officer then enters the room, the very same one that guided you to your rooms. "If you'll follow me, your shuttle has been prepared for you. The Inquisitor wants you to deploy with all haste after we exit the warp."
Simmins nods and swings by the Armory to restock his ammo and pick up a few more Frag grenades on his way to the shuttle.
Vector returns to his room and retrieves six more firebombs in order to be able to supply others in the group with such weapons without limiting himself. Six fit properly on a bandoleer after all. it would not be correct to hold less on myself. The danger of them exploding and harming me being moot.
Cimbria falls into step with Simmins as he heads down the metal gangplank. You heading to the Armory? At Simmins' nod, Good! I got plenty of rounds, but I want to try out some hallucinogenic grenades. They seem like they might be a good non-lethal option...
Huh. Never really used non lethal stuff before. Simmins says scratching his chin thoughtfully. Guess it's a good idea before we get real deep in the mines. Suppose it's best if all of us carry a mix of frag, fire, and the hallu stuff.
Yeah using frags in a mine shaft might bring the roof down on all of us.
"If you wish for me to carry such things for you I will be most glad to do so... but I will not even attempt to use such weapons unless as a last sacrifice when all has become lost. Otherwise this will be a very short mission, and not in a good way."
The officer insists that you make it to your shuttle, stating that he will send for the supplies that they requested. Upon exiting the warp, they will be delivered to the party prior to your departure. After taking notes, he sends a message to the armory via dataslate before urging you to continue to the hangar.
The shuttle greets you upon entry. It is a standard Valkyrie-class carrier, repainted red, gold and black to represent Inquisition colors instead of the Imperial Guard's green. You all climb into the troop compartment and strap yourselves into the seats.
"T-minus sixty seconds..." the voice overhead continues to drone, counting off the numbers until your transition into reality. "...five...four...three...two...one...transitioning!"
There is a shuddering noise that reverberates through the metal of the ship, up through the landing gear of the carrier and into your seats. For the briefest of seconds, you can hear the sound of broiling lightning and inhuman whispers and mutterings...
And the tingling sensation passes as you feel your bodies slide into the material realm. Hopefully you aren't feeling too uncomfortable, because Dia isn't. She mutters something under her breath, most likely an expletive, as she clenches the straps tightly.
After a few moments go by, an orderly comes up the Valkyrie's drop hatch, accompanied by a Mechanicus adept with a hovercart. "Your requisition has been cleared and approved by the armory of the Angelae Imperator. Do try to return the non-perishables in one piece." the tech-priest drones.
What did you requisition from the armory? [Keep it within reason please.]
" At least the chanting from earlier didn't come back." The psyker thinks with small relief as they transition.
On the hover cart arriving Vector nods and retrieves the crate of firebombs from the cart. Opening the box as he sits back down Vector leaves the crate open util it is obvious anyone with designs on obtaining a firebomb has had the chance. He then closes the box and places the container under his seat.
Simmins makes sure his weapons are loaded and fits the frag grenades onto his belt.
Could be we'll need to bring the roof down on all of us he remarks to Cimbra.
Just so long as I live...hehe Cimbria reples with a smirk
Dia snatches three frag grenades, a las pistol with four clips, and five stub loaders for her Scalptaker from out of the weapons crate.
After taking your items from the tech-priest, you return to the seats in the Aquila transport. But before the hatch door closes, you see a servo-skull bob its way towards you. Within the claws of its small mechandrite unit is a note addressed to the group.
This servo-skull will, as mentioned earlier, be recording your progress throughout the duration of this mission. And should the worse come to happen, the panic button is located underneath the red scanning unit. Depress the cybernetic eye to activate it.
But should the worse not come to pass, try to keep this unit in one piece. I'm quite fond of this one. It's the skull of the very first acolyte I ever took under my wing.
With that lovely thought in mind, you continue to make preperations for take-off. Strapping yourselves in once again, you can feel the kickback of the thrusters as they roar to life above your heads. The transition from the cruiser to space is smooth and relatively free of turbulence. Through the small viewing slits across the hold, you can see the Angelae Imperator becoming progressively smaller as you become closer to the ball of ice that is Sephiris Secundus.
From the cabin of the lander, you can hear the pilot negotiating (read: demanding) with the local space control to let you enter the atmosphere. After a few beeps and chirps of a nearby machine, the penitent and mollified tone from the official is easily audible.
"We'll be landing shortly," the pilot announces. "Brace for atmospheric entry."
The pressure of re-entry gradually hits you, a great pressure growing from something resembling heartburn to the feeling of having an ogryn sitting on your chest. While this does not make you nauseous in any way, shape or form, it does feel extremely uncomfortable. But you grit your teeth and bear it, and a few moments later, the pressure eventually eases off.
You are now in the planet's atmosphere.The lander easily navigates through the headwinds of Sephiris Secundus, and once again, the barest of turbulance is only experienced. You can hear the audible whine of the afterburners as they wind down, and the clanking noise of the landing gear as they extend, and the dull thud as they make contact with the ground. After a few moments of adjusting for atmosphere and air pressure change, the hatch door opens to reveal the remains of a battlefield.
All around you is an Imperial Guard encampment, filled with scores of grimfaced men and women, some bloodied and bandaged, all wearing the grey uniforms of the 97th Battalion. The camp is mostly a sea of tents positioned around smoking craters, steam vents that belch violet clouds of stinking gas into the air, and the wreckage from the recent conflict. A walker screeches as it patrols the perimeter, its pilot deftly maneuvering the vehicle through the wreckage of old buildings, smoking cars, and unburied bodies. At the camp’s center there stands a rust-red hab-block bearing the eagle symbol of the Imperium on its exterior. Beyond it is a range of low mountains covered in ice and the sprawl of industry. Flames belching forth from smokestacks, storage containers, great bubbling vats issuing toxic steam, and more combine to make the structures look like some vast metal insect straddling the peaks of this rugged range.
What do you do?
Simmins take stock of the planet they're on. No offense Cimbra, but it's glad to be back on solid ground again, space ain't homey, and the warp ain't natural
He looks around and spots a few guardsmen and women who seem to be on break. Simmins' armour is a deep dark green, almost black, and it makes him stand out from the men and women of the 97th batallion but it's still very obviously standard guard flak.
He approaches them.
Hey, we're fresh off of space and are being sent down into the mines. What's the word?
Titus stumbles out of the transport and falls to the ground, touching his head to the icy ground and thanking the Omnissiah that he had made it to the ground without dieing or worse. If man was meant to spend extended time in space he would have been born in space, a world beneath ones feet was always preferable to...and then the smell of the world hit him and the contents of his stomach hit the ground.
Vector stands and moves toward the doors of the lander hands shaking slightly as he exits. the psyker bows his head and assumes a subservient gait as he follows his Cadre. It would not due to appear willful as a psyker. Carrion, blood and smoke. The remains of war, of savagery. A place where a Blade is needed. Finally the peace of purpose again.
"Grant me strength" The psyker mutters quietly as he waits for further events. The shake in his hand evening, as the pulse of blood rushing in his head reaches a stable tempo.
Simmins take stock of the planet they're on. No offense Cimbra, but it's glad to be back on solid ground again, space ain't homey, and the warp ain't natural
Spoiler:[dice=Fel 36 test]1d100
S'funny, right? Every time I'm out there in the black, I look down on all these worlds and think "It'd be nice if I could explore that world for a bit". But once I'm down rock-side, all I keep thinking is "there's so much more out there to be seen".
Cimbria throws a friendly fist-bump at Simmins' shoulderpad
We'll be in that Command bunker, don't get too cozy with that lot...Master Titus, I'm sure there will be a bunk made available for napping shortly. Let's go make some introductions...
Cimbria will loop her arm under Titus' arm and help lift him off the ground. Her tone is rather cheerful.
After Titus has been lifted off the ground, Cimbria will lean in to Vector and whisper
Keep your eyes and ears open. If you hear or see anything untoward, please let me know quietly
Vector nods in agreement scanning the area for threats as he goes.
Dia keeps quiet and steps off of the lander. She wrinkles her nose in disgust and spits on the ground, muttering under her breath.
One of the guardsmen that Simms addresses scrambles to his feet, smiling broadly. He salutes, falters, and then bows. The guardsman is a young man, give or take at least eighteen standard Terran years old. He has bright red hair that pokes out from under his helmet, pale freckled skin and youthful features.
“Sirs...ladies...huh...welcome to the Gorgonid Mines!" he rushes, the smile not leaving his face for one second. "Thank the Emperor you've come... you're here to help...I just knew it...”
He continues rambling on, "I told them all you'd be comin'! So - which one of you is the Inquisitor? You'd be wantin' to see the Commissar, right?"
Before you even have the chance to respond, a gruff voice sounds out: [/b]“Jurtz! Down time is over. Get your sorry ass to sentry duty on the double!”[/b] The owner of the voice is a compact, square-jawed ugly man, his head shaved and with a dark blue tattoo right on his scalp. He’s wearing the grey fatigues of all the Guards, but the stripes on his sleeve indicate he’s a person of rank. Where his right arm used to be is now a stump on which a large metal rod with a disturbing array of attachments at the end emerges. Jurtz stammers, turns red all the way up to his ears and looks at his feet, stammering, “No, sir, Sergeant Raynard, sir! I’m just heading back now, sir!"
Sergeant Raynard fixes the junior Guardsman with a stare and then turns toward you. One of his eyes is ice blue, cold and staring. The other is a crude false eye, made of wood and wandering off to the left. “See that you do. Double time. Now, you," his voice is directed to the Acolytes, "You’re a sorry bunch, aren't you? Who’re you supposed to be? Not the Inquisitor I’ll warrant. Well? Speak up? I won’t have a commotion in my camp.”
Cimbria favors the burly human with a frigid gaze, the same one she reserves for jumped-up hab-scum trying to look tough
You're right sir. We're definitely, absolutely, positively NOT the Inquisition. she exclaims in a silky voice. And we don't want a commotion in your little yard either. Like snake edging closer to it's prey, Cimbria steps lightly, closer to the Sergeant We DO want a debriefing with all the data your men were able to muster, however. Cause if we die out there...what follows after us will make you wish you'd never been spat out by your mammy. Now what do you think of that?
Cimbria squares herself off in front of the Sergeant, looking him in the eyes with a knowing grin on her face. Her left eyebrow rises in anticipation of his response
<This can go one of two ways you stupid little girl. He'll either get the joke or he swings at you. Did he just twitch his eyelid a little?>
Unbidden, Cimbria's hand inches a slight bit closer to her holster
Vector glancs to the guard captain
"It would be suggested your read the data slate we have with us. But to save time we are here to purge an infestation. Quickly and violently." the psyker utterly festooned in firebombs states blandly.
The look on Sergeant Raynard's face can only be described as incredulous. His good eye twitches for a good few seconds as his hand reaches for the data-slate on its own volition. He takes his eyes off of the party to read it for a few good seconds before passing it back to you.
"I'm quite aware of the gravity of the situation," he neutrally states. "So you'll have to ask the Emperor to forgive me for being no small amount of vigilant. And while I know that morale is low, I would have you refrain from making jokes that the men and women here may or may not understand."
He briefly sighs before saying, "So the Inquisitor's in orbit above the planet, but he's sent you in his stead to deal with this mess. I suppose I better let the Commissar that you're here...sirs."
With that, he makes ready to leave, but as he turns, his crude cybernetic arm starts to shake and the attachments start spinning, swooshing, snapping, and make a terrible racket. Raynard curses, runs his hand down the length of the metal rod, whispers a prayer and pushes a button. Immediately, the device settles down. He starts heading off toward the hab-block. As he marches, the Acolytes hear tittering laughter coming from out of a nearby tent.
You didn't get shot! Hooray!
What do you do now?
Simmins walks behind the Sergeant, keeping pace with him as they head to the hab-block.
After the Sergeant is done speaking Cimbria looks back at Simmins and Vector, pushing her jaw down and rounding out her eyes as if to say
I'm surprised that worked!
Whereupon she pointedly ignores the laughter coming from the tent, and matches the Sergeant's stride as best she can.
Why Sergeant, you make it sound as if you've received the short shrift here. I can assure you, our Master sent us because he believes in our skill, and our devotion. He wouldn't send a cadre that would bring impunity to his reputation. The mere suggestion of it is practically heresy in and of itself. Trust me, this is the best possible situation for him, for us, and most importantly, for you. Amasec?
Titus mumbles to no one in particular. "The best possible situation would be for the universe to stop trying to kill us." Seeing as none of this is helpful, and he doesn't want to get left behind to get to know the soldiers, Titus falls in step with the rest of the group.
"How long have you had trouble with your arm? You could probably avoid the need for the prayer of calming mechanica if you were to perform the rites of holy maintenance coupled with the diagnosticians supplication to purify the machine spirit. One would not wish for an issue to arise during the heat of battle."
A raised eyebrow is directed in the direction of Cimbria. "I know how to keep my opinions to myself if that's what you're asking, milady. And while I do appreciate the offer, I'm afraid that I'll have to decline until 2000 hours, local time when my shift ends. I'm not sure about how...acolytes of the Inquisition conduct themselves, but it is forbidden for Guardsmen to be intoxicated while on duty."
The matter-of-fact state he says this causes Dia to repress a derisive snort in the direction of the Arbiter.
At Titus' words, Ranyard looks at Titus, stares up and down the tech-priest's equipment and vestments and shrugs. "I'd greatly appreciate that, Milord. It's been giving me grief ever since we've been stationed here..." He goes on to list the details of what has befallen his arm since deploying on top of the mines.
Cimbria strolls amiably with the sergeant into the tent
Consider it a peace offering then. I was rather harsh with you and I should have conducted a measured and more carefully considered approach. Dealings with the scum and trollops of the Galaxy taxes my patience overmuch I'm afraid...
Vector paces along in the middle of the pack, head down and silent as his eyes flick from sources of motion around him.
"these are men who will spare me no mercy, the commissar' more so. Teachers words are again relavent. Chatty blades are a sign of heretical actions in either the wielder or the weapon.
Oblivious to the continued interactions of his companions, Titus looks over the arm and startsmaking adjustments as they walk.
"Turn it to the left... no my left... my left, your front... no no palm up, yes you can palm up. Disengage the inhibitor bolt and turn... little more... all better." Titus continues to fiddle a bit before greasing one last shaft and twisting a servo back in to place. "See, not hard at all."
Dia doesn't fail to notice the (un)subtle tones behind Cimbria words. For the briefest of moments, murderous rage comes over her face before fading away into a calm of muttered curses and deep breaths.
Sergeant Ranyard takes his cybernetic arm through the motions, flexing it and rotating various joints in all sorts of directions. While the outside still retains the war-stained exterior of grime and dirt, he machine spirits within the circuitry seem to be pleased, for no more disruptive noises and smoke clouds emit from the machinery.
He makes a pleased noise of approval. "Thank you very much, Milord! If you ever find yourself needing assistance while on this mission, I'll do whatever I can in my power to provide it."
The headquarters is a hab-block, a prefabricated structure deposited on the planet’s surface. Constructed of metal alloys and painted with a utilitarian red colour, it features the Battalion’s number, as well as the eagle of the Imperium. A single access hatch in the face of the structure allows access to the interior. Once inside, the place is sparsely decorated, with a desk for the secretary and a second desk for the Commissar.
The Commissar appears to be in his late thirties, with coal black hair, matching eyes and a craggy face. He wears a black uniform decorated with his rank and a few badges of honour. His Commissar hat rests on a hook behind his desk as does his long black leather coat. He is currently studying a map of the surrounding area when you enter inside of the HQ.
He looks up. "Ah. You're here. Please, take a seat." Here, he gestures towards an array of seats. One by one, you all file into your seats. When you finish, he speaks:
“Well, I presume you are from the Inquisition? I was told help was on the way, but I must say I am always surprised by the agents I meet. I’m sure you are eminently qualified for the task at hand, so let’s get down to business and get this over with shall we?
“As you may or may not know, this world is vital to the commercial interests of this sector and anything that threatens this world ultimately threatens the larger community. Thus when renegade activities on this planet destroyed valuable and, in some people’s estimations, irreplaceable equipment, it was deemed necessary to create a show of force and eradicate all insurgents in and around the lucrative Gorgonid Mine." He gestures expansively around him.
“Now, attending to a few rebels is easy work and as expected, the scum lacked grit, leadership, and dedication to their cause, and so in a matter of hours we had contained the site, rounded up a few captives and were ready to ship out. But as I toured the grounds, something caught my eye. One of the rebels was carrying a sheaf of papers. I examined them quickly and it appeared they were queer texts of some kind, copies surely, but describing unspeakable acts. It was clear that these rebels were foot soldiers for something worse.
“I know my duty, and so I sent a dozen squads into the mines themselves. Many of our enemy fled the certain death of our superior firepower for the cover of the mines. It was as I feared. The Guardsmen descended and after three-quarters of an hour, they returned, much diminished and suffering terrible casualties. Reports of twisted mutants, daemons, and worse came in and so I decided that until I received proper support, the mine would be closed.
“Clearly, the Inquisitor does not share my concern...no offence, of course. I just expected a… larger group to attend to this matter. Well, who am I to question the ways of the Ordo, right? Right. Here is a map. Follow the directions and they will take you through the upper levels of the Gorgonid Mines. My men didn’t encounter much of anything there, but when they entered the tunnels known as the Shatters," he points at the map, "That was where things went wrong.
“I should warn you, it takes a great deal of effort to lift the seal and it’s not quick. We’ll let you out of course, but there’s nothing fast about it so try not to be in a hurry. I presume you’re armed? Not many things on your persons I see. That’s a shame. See our Quartermaster and he’ll properly outfit you. Meet me at the seal — you can see it from the door—in say an hour. It takes a good 30 minutes to walk it, so don’t dawdle."
Did they have any recording devices that'll give us any idea what's down there? Simmins asks.
Commisar, please provide the sheaves of paper that were found. Vector, prepare yourself, you might not like what you read on those papers...Titus, Simmins, see if you can find a flamer or something like it; if that's not available, some incendiary grenades would be an appropriate substitute. And anything else you can think of that isn'r nailed down. Dia...make ready
Cimbria will deliberately glance down at Dia's sidearm then tilt her head in the direction of Vector. Then she will place her hand on the butt of her Creed.
Cimbria will lean in to Vector and softly whisper
It's going to be okay.
Commisar, please provide the sheaves of paper that were found. Vector, prepare yourself, you might not like what you read on those papers...Titus, Simmins, see if you can find a flamer or something like it; if that's not available, some incendiary grenades would be an appropriate substitute. And anything else you can think of that isn'r nailed down. Dia...make ready
Cimbria will deliberately glance down at Dia's sidearm then tilt her head in the direction of Vector. Then she will place her hand on the butt of her Creed.
Cimbria will lean in to Vector and softly whisper
It's going to be okay.
"I would be interested to see what the papers say as well, in case we should be split up and I am forced to act. Sadly I do not believe the handling of a holy promethium projector will be with in my meager capabilities. I will have to settle for a brace of explosive devices, mayhaps Icould be given some training in basic weapons when this assignment is finished."
Vector gives a look of confusion as Cimbria whispers before settling his features back into a blank mask.
Kindness is not characteristic of Agent Arctus, only self interest. Is this perhaps a ploy to appeal to me in some manner? Strange. I have already stated I am a blade.
"Noted Agent Arctus, I am unsure if the writings would contain influence if they are mere copies but I will read them to ensure no harm could be inflicted were the rest of the Cadre to do so."
The psyker nods to the Commissar before undoing the straps of his flak cloak to reveal the additional fire bombs secured to his person. This in addition to the ones on the outside of his armor for ease of use.
"I am outfitted to deal with densely packed foes and for short range combat."
I'll requisition a flamer if you got one to spare Simmins nods at the Commissar and Cimbra then continues towards Titus In case we're split up we're dead or worse no matter what you've been reading. I figure my advice would be to not get split up
The Commissar shakes his head. “We have neither audio or visual records save for the recollections of the survivors, which you can find scattered across this blasted ruin. And much to my…regret,” here he seems to grimace, but you’re not sure if he does so out of regret or distaste, “The pamphlets confiscated from the rebels were burned at my order for advocating heretical actions against the Imperium’s rule.”
At the mention of supplies, the Commissar's eyes narrow. "We're short on supplies as it is without the Inquisition requisitioning equipment from our stocks. You'll find no additional support from us save for what we can spare. And I am not the one you should be speaking to about this; the quartermaster has set up thirty meters west of this headquarters."
Dia remains silent save for a quiet "tch" directed at the Commissar. The servo-skull of Sharben's first disciple quietly records the exchange, hovering a few feet away from the representative of the party.
The Psyker nods "If they constituted a moral threat then it was correct to eliminate them. Hopefully our skills will make up for the gap in information. It would be a shame to have to do the same to the Mine should the taint reach to deep." The psyker blandly comments as he glances out the office window.
"I wonder how long it would take the Angelae Imperator to complete such an action.
I'll only take one if you got one to spare, sir Simmins reminds the Commissar mildly. I s'pose we should be heading on to the quarter master then by your leave
Titus waits to be dismissed. Having no better plan, Titus will head for the seal and wait for the others there.
If that's all you have to report, then the Commissar nods and returns to his work, with the unspoken implication that he's done talking for the moment.
At this point, you have a few options before you go into the mines. Do you want to talk with any of the local soldiers? How about seeing to the quartermaster and the supplies he's willing to spare?
Vector turns and follow his companions path
now to see what these warriors have for weaponry.
Once they escape the Comisaar's hearing the psyker coughs.
" Will we be interrogating the survivors of the first expedition for any information before we depart?"
"I honestly don't think we will learn much more from the survivors, humans under stress are terribly unreliable sources of information. A mind poisoned by fear is given to exaggeration and flights of fancy. But if my Arbiter Arctus believes she can sift through their information and gleam some viable information I will leave that in her capable hands."
Titus will split off from the rest of the group, allowing them to head off towards the quartermaster while he makes his way to the seal proper to look over the mechanism.
Cimbria stops right in front of whomever is following her and turns to Vector.
*That* is a capital idea, my friend. See to it you collect at least two clips of this ammo for me. Cimbria will give Vector a bullet from her pistol If they have dum-dum, grab one or two of those as well, please. I'll be along shortly.
Cimbria walks back over to the tent, calling out over her shoulder back at Vector
And some shotgun shells if it's not too much bother...thanks!
Upon entering the tent, Cimbria exclaims
Just...onemorething Commisar. I'd like to have some one-on-one time with the survivors. I know it's all there in the report, but darned if my Master isn't one of those sticklers for details. Be a good sport and see if you adjunct can arrange it, please! Thank you!
I guess I can take solace in the fact that none of the rest of the team was here to see that botchery hehe