The ship shutters violently around you, the waves of The Warp bashing at its geller fields as it makes the transition from immaterium to real space. After a brief moment the vessel ceases its shaking and you feel that the shadow of the warp, which before was looming over you, recede. Slowly the red emergency lights illuminating your room dim, leaving you in near pitch darkness, the only light specks of distant stars fluttering outside your room's porthole. With a great clack the normal lights return, blinding you for a moment. They are accompanied by a loud voice over the wall mounted vox, one that you recognize from the previous transitions on your voyage.
“Warp transition successful, all hands, as you where.”
You begin preparing to return to whatever you where doing before, more than likely some menial task you were only doing to pass the time. However, the vox once again crackles crackles to life, projecting a new voice. Unlike before it belongs to a female. It's also speaking to you, not the crew, something that has yet to happen on your seven month long journey.
”All Inqusitorial Acolytes, report to the bridge for briefing.” Quickly overcoming the shock of the fact that something is finally happening, you gather your trinkets and meagre belongings, some of them yours, others issued to you by your Inquisitor, and begin the short trek to the bridge.
You enter the bridge through a pair of massive blast doors which slowly open as you approach. You are immediately greeted by the familiar sight of busy crewmen, who hustle about the room carrying out various orders. However near the centre of the room before a great metal table, standing arms akimbo, is a great man in a deep black coat you very quickly recognize as Titanicus Volt. It briefly registers in your mind that for all intents and purposes, this is your boss. Flanking him to his left is a smallish woman in red robes, clutching a dataslate. Titanicus notices you quickly, and gestures you to take a seat at the table before him.
Doing so, you notice several other people, most definitely not crew members judging by their attire, seated as well. As you pull up your chair Titanicus speaks, “Just a few moments more, the rest shouldn't be long.” Sure enough, not a minute passes before a total of seven people are seated at the table. The cell finally gathered, Titanicus smiles and places his hands on the table before him, ”Welcome acolytes, now that you're all here, we can begin. I trust the ship's large enough that you haven't met each other yet, so let's start this off with some introductions shall we?”
Julius gazed around the table, scrutinizing his fellow acolytes. He gives Titanicus a glance, who meets it with his own. After a short moment, he nods.
"My name is Julius Severinus. I am an assassin. I look forward to working together with all of you."
With that, he reclined back into his seat, resuming his silence.
Sister Vesta over looks the crowd with the eyes of a predator seeking prey. She says nothing until it is her turn to introduce herself. When her turn comes she stands at attention and delivers a brief introduction as ordered.
I am Sister Vesta of the Adepta Sororitas. As a loyal servant of the Emperor, and in accordance with the Convocation of Nephilim I am here to serve. After her introduction she gives a slight bow to Titanicus. So this is Titanicus Volt.. She thinks to herself.
Burgos, in his humble friar robes, bows deeply.
"I am Burgos, my lord inquisitor. My oath of service sworn before the altar of He Who Sits at Terra remains valid in this life and the next."
Walking toward the bridge, Cerelia isn't surprise when a crew member notices her sanction mark and suddenly veers away from her. A slight smile twitches her mouth, their fear is well founded for if her Will had faltered on the journey through the Warp....
With a shake of her head, she thought Such thought are heresy, The Emperor has need of me I will not fail!
Arriving at the bridge, Cerelia advances to the table, already filled by the other Acolytes. With a nod to Volt, she stands before her chair "Greetings fellow Acolytes, I am Cerelia Vam, Imperial Psyker, recently Sanctioned." she says turning her face so all can see the Sanction Mark embedded there. "I serve the Emperor in all things, I serve the Inquisition, I serve thee" she says formally, looking each Acolyte in the eye then sits down in her chair.
Uriel gives all those present a casual appraisal.
"Hey," she says, without rising from her chair "I'm Uriel Ch0X0r1." Her vox-box grinds through the binary code of her surname, and as she speaks, the rigid, golden pouting lips do not move, for the entirety of the lower half of her face has been replaced with metal.
The mousy looking man with the unhealthy complexion had entered quietly and made sure to take a seat as far away from everyone else as possible; as the meeting began he was busy taking notes on the data pad he carried.
The sudden rise in various voices made him start rather badly, and when he looked up it was with the expression you might see on a sump rat as it realizes the hunter has it in his crosshairs.
"I...I...I...am Iacton...Havelock Iacton. umm...yes..."
As his spoke, he flushed deeply enough to almost make his unhealthy complexion turn normal.
He also seemed to have troubled meeting everyone else’s eyes, ESPECIALLY those of Sister Vesta, upon spotting her; he grew even paler than before.
"Yes...yes..."
Eventually he sits down; beginning to polish the small round clip on glasses he was wearing with an almost frantic energy.
The last of the seven Acolytes, an rather small but well trained man in the uniform of an member of the Adeptus Arbites had conscientiously inspected the small group during the introducing.
Trooper Torald Mercutio Barbosa at your service!
"Very Good!" he cries out with a hearty chuckle, "I must say, my recruiters have good eyes. Now, let's get straight to business." He straightens up and holds a hand out to the red robed woman next to him, who transfers her dataslate to the Inquisitor's hands. "In approximately two hours," he begins, his voice now taking on a much more serious tone, "We will be in orbit around Sozomen's Last Stand. If you don't know already, it's an agri-world that, between it and Dreah, supplies the vast majority of food to the Markayn Reaches. It is also the battleground for a house war that is now threatening to turn civil war and envelope the entire damned planet."
"Your mission is simple: end this feud before it spreads. Going about that however will be... difficult..." With that he places the dataslate on the table and with a flick of his wrist sends it sliding towards the centre, "That slate contains information on all the ranking individuals in both warring parties; I highly recommend you read it thoroughly." His tone highly suggests that this statement wasn't so much a suggestion, but an order. "Now, questions?"
Uriel picks up the dataslate, turning it over in her hands. Hmmm, a Suetonius Class XVII-B Data Display Unit. They don't make like this anymore. I like its heft.
After a couple of seconds, she remembers to actually read what is says.
Julius leans forward in his seat, ignoring the dataslate for now.
"What are our resources for this mission? Funds, contacts, equipment and such?
Are there heretics, aliens, witches or mutations suspected to be involved? Quelling a rebellion isn't exactly my forte, but I will do what I can. Sister Vesta says as she reaches for a data slate on the two houses.
The dataslate displays a short list of the key leaders of the two warring noble houses on the planet, as well as a summary of the events that have called you here. The head figures fall under two names: The Kleito and the Apollonios. From a quick skim, you surmise that Lady Vira Apollonios, head of her house, married late Planetary Governor Kail Kleito approximately two years ago. Shortly thereafter he passed away under mysterious circumstances, with coroners unable to uncover the cause. His son and would be heir before his stepmother entered the picture, Jude Kleito, cried foul and seized the control of the planet with the aid of his father's loyal commanders. With complete control of the military, Jude's rule seemed secure. However, with the aid of offworld mercenaries, Lady Vira seized control of several key starports and orbital facilities and began arming a sizeable militia army. They have since enjoyed few decisive victories over her stepson's forces, and the current state of affairs seems to be an ever growing stalemate. However the last report is over four months old, so the current state of the conflict is likely to have changed drastically.
"Currently we have an Inquisitorial agent inside one of the warring houses, as well as several contacts who will be able to get you limited supplies covertly. You will also be outfitted with communication equipment, as well as ammunition before you leave this ship. The rest will be up to you however. You're an unproven cell, and I'm not sinking resources into something I'm not even sure will be a worthy asset."
"And as for heretics and mutants, I cannot say that we've any reason to believe ruinous powers are behind any of the events that have transpired on the planet. However, such places as this are prime for dark things to grow. If you look, you might just find something."
oh dear...oh dear...
"I...I...I...wonder something if I may? If one of these people were...removed, would the conflict end, or do either or both of them have an heir apperant that might step in and continue this pointless...difference of opinion?"
"Where do the offworld mercenaries hail from?" asks Uriel. "And does the Imperium have any jurisdiction over them?"
Or any jurisdiction beyond the barrel of a gun . . . she thinks to herself.
"We're it so simple... No, the parties cannot simply be elminated. I'd have done so long ago where that the case. Most of the noble houses on the planet have yet to commit to armed conflict, only thrown their favour behind one of the contenders. However should one of the leaders fall without first renouncing their claim, many a house might seek to become a new contender for the seat of governor. In short the damage such a power vacuum would cause would be catastrophic to the sub sector. This conflict must end with both houses intact.".
"As for the mercenaries, they've mostly been recruited from nearby hive worlds, gangers turned hired guns. A few professional outfits are thrown in the mix, former guardsmen and whatnot who don't know what to do with themselves once their tour is up. Jurisdiction wise... I'm an Inquisitor, I could have them all put to the sword should I so wish, but that'd require a level of conspicuousness that I cannot afford."
It sounds to me that you wish us to find damning evidence that one of these houses is indeed involved in some sort of heresy and use that as leverage and present it to you so then Imperial Guardsmen can be called into action without question. I think I can do this. Posing as a mercenary group might be the way to get inside and investigate further. You mentioned this is an agri-world, is there any indigenous alien life or other threats besides the feuding houses?
Looking up from the dataslate after is made its was around to her, Cerelia asks "Does the Inquisition have any preference for the true heir or the treacherous step-mother?"
"I suggest that we do not decide on a particular course of action until we have all the facts." Burgos remarks as he scans the data slate.
"Moreover, violence is clearly not the solution the lord inquisitor wants us to consider. At least not without all the facts." Burgos then nods to the inquisitor.
"Lord inquisitor, do we have leave to speak with your voice?"
All right, then we have to dig for corpses hidden in their cellars.
Havelock, feeling he has already showed his inexperience takes refuge in his own data slate, making notes and calculations, unfortunately, his habit of paraphrasing out loud kicks in and he begins to talk in hard clipped tones.
"Mission description, to curb infighting between noble houses to prevent open conflict to engulf the planet in an all out civil war."
"Addendum one, to prove the skills of the cell members and validate the cells existence."
"Additional, while the quickest way to eliminate the problem would be to terminate one of the claimants it would need to be done in such a way that no one else would be inclined to take up the cause and merely shift the power balance a little."
"Hypothesis, substantial proof of illegal or heretical activities could be used to either sanction elimination of one subject, or be used to convert the subject to a highly placed agent or "pawn" in control by the inquisition."
"Addendum two, to truly enforce the quelling of the conflict would most likely entail one side unconditionally and irrevocably surrendering to the other side in a public was as to remove all doubts that the second side has won and is in the right."
"furthermore..."
Suddenly hearing his own voice out loud, Havelock starts and looks up, for a moment his mouth hangs open in shock and his face grows even paler, then he blushes furiously and looks down, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes.
"The discovery of damning evidence would certainly make the situation easier to deal with, so by all means, investigate. However don't depend on it, for such matters are almost certainly buried very, very deep. Deep enough that the common mercenary will never come near to it.
"Should you actually find dark secrets that would merit Inquisitorial intervention, you may act on my behalf. Any ranking individuals are to be taken into custody, kill anyone else who gets in your way. However, until such time as solid evidence is found, the Inquisition's presence must not be known."
"As for who I prefer, I could not possibly care less. They're all equal scum in my books, and if I had it my way all these feuding bastards would be in front of a firing squad right now. If you honestly can't pick a side well... flip a coin I guess, the end result will be the same."
"On the topic of local wildlife, it should be a non-issue. Nothing that could harm a man on that rock has the courage to do so, so have no worries about that."
Cerelia frowns , tapping her finger on the table thoughfully "So the step-mother has created a militia-army? Conscript or volunteer? Does she hold more sway over the populace than the son? Also, in which camp has your agent sequestered themselves?"
Well if we are not to let our presence be known we will need a cover, if not a mercenary band then what do you suggest?
Oh dear...oh my...a firing squad my be in our future if we do not do well on this.
I...I...I...fear this may not be an easy thing to do, my him on earth smile on us.
Uriel is content to let the others lead the conversation for now. The politics of the situation planetside are of little interest to her. When the time comes when her skills are needed, she's confident she'll be ready.
I wonder if Sister Vesta has any bionic augmentation beneath her armour? she wonders idly.
"I fear that any information I can provide on the armed forces of either side is woefully out of date. You can have the agent more accurately debrief you when you land."
"As to how your cover, when you land you will be masquerading as the honoured guests of Harlus Myr, our agent in house Kleito." Titanicus reaches into a pocket and retrieves a small chrono, "Are there any pressing questions? If not then I recommend you get to the armoury and then the hangars, your shuttle will depart in approximately two hours. My aid will guide you there. Oh and before I forget," He reaches bellow the table and brings up a small wooden case, revealing seven bronze badges, each emblazoned with the sigil of the Inquisition, "These are your badges of office. Keep them at hand but well hidden until such time as you need to exercise your authority."
As you command. Sister Vesta says awkwardly, still getting used to the unique command structure and protocols of the Inquisition. She immediately accepts the badge and reports to the Armory to get out fitted, on the way she mutters a litany of the sisterhood to keep her poise. I have never had to masquerade before, I must not fail She thinks to herself and begins a litany to remove any doubt.
The light of the Emperor protects us, it is a guide and a burning reminder to our enemy. I shall not fail so long as I have the light. The light can not be extinguished, so long as the ever flame of righteous rage burns within me. Fire consume my weakness and release its holy blessings upon the heretic cleansing the corrupt and unpure. I shall rejoice at their sorrow and screaming pleas for mercy. There is no mercy, only retribution. She continues this litany until she reaches the Armorer.
Julius gripped the badge and turned it over in his hands, observing it.
Such a small trinket. Yet it represents but a mere fraction of the will of the Inquisition. By accepting this, we are accepting the fact that we are a part of that will. And that will is going to determine the fate of this miserable little planet.
He slips it into a pocket in the clothes and follows Sister Vesta out of the room as quietly as he had entered.
Havelock is clearly torn at this point, leaving directly would put him uncomfortably close to the rest of the part, but lingering too long would risk invoking the wrath of the inquisitor.
Oh dear...oh my...
Eventually he decides that as long as he is the last to leave he can probably stay safe, so he waits with some degree of nervousness for the others to leave before him.
Burgos reverently accepts the stylized "I" badge of the Inquisition, knowing full well the weight of power... and responsibility it represents.
Cerelia picks up one of the badges, turning about in her hands. She contemplates placing it on her necklace, the one her psy-focus hangs from, but no, ultimately pins it to the inside of her vest.
Nodding to the others, she leaves and picks up her gear then visits the armory. There she has the gun-mech check her pistol, ensuring that its resident spirits are well content. She then makes her way to the shuttle bay and awaits departure.
Uriel takes the Inquistorial badge and pauses to reflect upon it. So this is the new star my life revolves around. Very well. She slips it into the bodice of her great red dress and rises, following Sister Vesta eagerly in the direction of the Armoury.
As instructed, Titanicus' aid guides you past many a bulkhead and blastdoor, before you finally enter a room that is undoubtedly the armoury. The aid flashes her dataslate to the lone techpriest manning the room, to which he begins rummaging through crates and weapon racks. After several minutes, he gives each of you three full magazines (or equivelent) for each of your weapons, as well as a microbead and a backpack for each of you.
With gear acquired, the aid then guides you a short distance to the hangar. Amongst the busy crew, engine parts and various other ships, she points out a small cargo ferry, which she identifies as an Arvus Lighter.
"You will be departing shortly. If you require further information on the details of your mission, your slate should prove more than sufficient. Emperor bless. Without waiting for response she turns on a heel and swiftly disappears back into the corridors of the ship. Left alone, you can see several hoses connected to your transport, as well as a man in a grey flight suit sitting atop the cockpit with what appears to be a Lho stick in hand.
Sister Vesta will gather her gear and standby until the transport is ready to be boarded. While waiting she will use the data slate to look up any current criminal activity on the planet.
"I...I...I wish I had thought to ask before, but sometimes the lead of an organization is in fact only a functioning figurehead, and in that case removing the power behind the throne can be a good way to go.
Also, with planets resources at their disposal...well, HALF a planet, one can afford to have some serious augmentation done on any bodyguards one hire..."
Only here does Havelock realize that is internal monologue was not in fact internal at all.
"I...I...I...forgive me, just thinking out loud, I'll...be quiet now."
Uriel ponders Havelock: Perhaps some cranial circuitry would help this fellow control his verbal diarrhea. I'll see what I can do later.
In the Armoury, she takes a moment to talk with the Tech-Priest overseer. Quickly retuning her vox-box, she asks in the secret Tech tongue: 010010100010010000100010010011101010?
The techpriest before you cocks his head to one side, his mechanical eye sliding inward to better focus on you, "Interesting? Unfortunately no... However since you asked, please take this." He reaches into his robes and removes what you immediately recognize as a combitool and hands it to you, "May the Omnisiah watch over you on your mission acolyte."
As you approach the lander, the man atop the cockpit notices you out of the corner of his eye. Turning to the small group converging on the craft, he smiles and slides down to your level. With a flamboyant bow he introduces himself, "Voxxi Pyke, at your service lords an' lasses; At least if you're who I think you are." He rights himself and without giving you chance to respond continues, "Ya' look like a bright lot, but looks ain't everythin'. I'm gonna' be your pilot from here on in if ya' haven't figured it out yet. His spiel takes him about half as long to say as it would a normal person and concentration is required if one wishes to understand what he's garbling on about. Those of you more accustomed to high gothic barely manage to catch the gist of his introduction.
"Anyway we'll be leavin' in ten, don't miss your flight!" With that he dissappears around the corner of the ship and into the open rear hatch.
Julius' eyes narrowed in contempt.
... His enunciation is atrocious.
Shaking his head, Julius files into craft, searching for a seat and a place to stow his gear.
Sister Vesta doesn't look up from her data slate when the odd man comes by she simply states I will be here and continues to search the data slate for recent criminal activity planet side.
Sister Vesta, you very quickly realize that the slate does not live update. To access the information you seek, you'll need to connect the slate to an appropriate cogitator planet side.
Torald takes the Backpack, the microbeat and the munition
Then he follows the aid to the lander and sits himself in one of the seats, takes an data slate and reads through the common infos about the planet.
Taking the offered gear, Cerelia takes a moment to rearrange what she was carrying. Nodding her thanks to the techpriest, she follows the aide down to the hangar.
Trying to follow the pilot's rapid-fire speech, the only thing meaningful she gleans was that the shuttle would depart in 10 minutes.
Walking to the lander entry ramp, she enters , stows her gear and takes a seat. Glancing over at Torald, she offers a shy smile then lays her head back and closes her eyes; a calming mantra running through her head.
Unfortunately, the slate contains little information on known criminals. It passively mentions the names of a few gangs that have sold their help to Lady Apollonios, but beyond that no other information is available.
A few minutes pass as you and your fellows wait in varying degrees of patience before finally your pilot calls back to you from the cramped interior of the cockpit, "Okay, hope you've got your s#*# together, 'cause this birds flyin'!" With a loud mechanical whine the hydraulic arms attached to the rear hatch pull it closed, and the ship shutters as it's moved to its launch position, "If none of you have made a landin' in a lighter before, here's a tip: Sick bags are under your seats, be prepared to feckin' use em'. Now get ready, we're launchin' in Ten... Nine... Eight..."[b]
Digit by digit Voxxi counts down until he reaches one, at which point a sudden force launches the ship straight downwards. Your bodies tug hard against the belts holding you down, and very quickly you start to feel very light headed. This lasts for a few moments, before finally subsiding into weightlessness. [b]"Everyone okay back there? I hope so, 'cause that wasn't even the fun part. Decelerating in Ten... Nine... Once again the pilot counts down, however this time the reaching of one is accompanied by a sudden force backwards, as the roar of the lighter's twin engines vibrates through the hull of this ship.
Toughness +10 to resist throwing up ladies and gents.
Julius resists the temptation to vomit quite well.
Having taking rides like this in the past, though never by such inept pilots, Sister Vesta is embarrassed when she vomits, which quickly turns to rage BY THE EMPEROR GET US PLANET SIDE ALREADY!
toughness (31+10:41)
Despite the calming mantra, the violent movements of the lander confuse Cerelia's vestibular senses. Feeling her gorge rising she fights against the violent g-forces to grab one of the airsickness bags.
The vomiting over quickly, the unpleasantness continues as the lander careens through the atmosphere.
Uriel walks slowly around the Arvus Lighter, eagerly feasting her eyes on the blocky sweeps and curves of its chassis and the masculine power of its booster rockets. Her hands grasp its landing struts, feeling their strength in the same manner as a young woman grasping the muscular arms of her lover whilst locked in a kiss.
The time flits by, and she realises the fuelling hoses have already been detached and she's the last passenger standing on the deck. Now her excitement is even greater as the engines roar into life and the machine spirits of the craft awaken. A giddy grin stretches over her face . . . or at least it would do if that frozen golden mouth could express anything more than a pout.
Moments later, things are very different. The Arvus howls through the atmosphere, and her stomach is bubbling in the same way the sumps of her beloved Katedra Arghilus used to back on Sirens' Den. She fiddles with her gastric suction drip, one of several cables protruding through the flesh of her throat, but as the shuttle jerks back and forth she twists the wrong valve. Suddenly a stream of stomach acid mixed with machine oil pours out, coating her ornate dress in foul liquid.
Muffling a curse through her vox-box, she pulls an ornate handkerchief from her sleeve and frantically starts cleaning the more delicate parts of her anatomy and machinery.