While on the shuttle Sister Yolandi turns to her companions. "Is anyone here familiar with auctions or this kind of a social setting? I must confess I am not, but I can play off someone elses cues, possibly play he obedient wife... just don't get any ideas that I will have to purge with fire later." Sister Yolandi says with her Las Pistol in hand.
Scotus grabs his non-descript gear and joins the others in the shuttle.
Looking out the window at the tainted world below, he thinks "Just an other a#&~+~%~ world, stink and dirt....he he...my kind of place."
He's grinning at his own inner joke, when Yolandi speaks, "Aye, I've seen some auctions, usually contraband and illegals, but enough to know the drill. But really, dearie, you as obediant wife? I'd be more convincing!" he says, elbowing the Baron in his ribs, guffawing.
Perhaps the mysterious Silas Marr will be able to provide some guidance.
The ready light flashes on; warning you you have a few minutes to stow your gear and get strapped in.
Vector always strove to be a steadfast example of an Imperium psyker. Much of that was striving to act like he didn't exist to a majority of his superiors, several years working under the inquisitorial seal had showed him such actions were not always the best path though.
Long interaction proves this exterior to genuinely be much of how the man thought. Psykers were tools of the emperor and his intense suffering was a crucible meant to forge him into a quality weapon.
The psyker had made it a point to assess his gear in a final check before boarding the shuttle and finding a seat.
" I will be of little value in a social environment like this though I can attempt to listen to others conversations. I do not know what manner of dealings will be had but if this is the auction of a man effects as infamous as Harlock I would guess the level of opulence the guests will display to threaten sanction. I would likely fit in as some manner of servant assuming if I am to join at all." Vector suggests as he frowns as if biting something sour.
" I would prefer not to be a maid.* However I will do so if required." The man adds It never seems to help
" Will we be needing clothing of higher class to fit this event?"
Grinning at Scotus Baron Oberstein replies "Hehe you might be right about that Scotus, a 'somewhat uncontrollable paramore' might be closer to it.”
”For a cover story for the auction I could be a decadent xenophile nobleman.. glaring at Scotus "yeah you're gonna love this one. Posing as a decadent nobleman wanting to acquire some rare items to add to my collection, with Scotus as my 'guide', and Scotus basically taking care of most of the talking for me as I'm 'too good' to deal with this scum. I’ll be a proper s!*!-head decadent nobleman everyone can love to hate. I’m even from this sector so they may have heard of me and my family, and then will know that I haven’t been seen much for the last few years.”
”We can dress Yolandi up as my arm-candy. With a 'military' look about me, Yolandi would be just my type, a tough muscular look like a 'sexy soldier'" Baron Oberstein nods smiling and apologetically at Yolandi "Take no offence sister, I merely mean it as a guise for you.”
”Vector looks like a psyker freak… no offence Vector, just the sort of ‘pet’ a ‘decadent’ like me would keep around. Baron Oberstein spreads his arms and bows his head at Vector ”Again, no offence meant Vector, we all value your contribution, I merely mean that not all of your gifts use them to as a noble purpose as you.”
”Binerith’s presence with me would make sense as an expert on technology to evaluate the authenticity of any item’s I’d wish to acquire, being a proper ‘cog-head’…” Bowing at Binerith ”You will excuse the phrase friend, I merely adopt the lower-class’ vernacular to lend theatrics to the description. Being a proper ‘cog-head’ merely adds to my status and resources, having him there to evaluate the merchandise. A heretek and a true follower of the Omnissiah may look the same, the corruption might be philosophical and not noticeable as a manifestation of the flesh or machine …although most of us might not even know that, his ability of feedback screech might even be though to be ‘heretek’. bowing at Binerith ”Certainly only to the ignorant my friend.”
”Filip could play the role of a goon, you know better than any of us what criminal scum is like.” Bowing theatrically at Scotus ”Except to those of us who really are. So it would probably be easy for Filip to adopt the role of one. I doubt anyone will pay much attention to him, but it might be a good idea not to shave for a few days before we get there, or shave your head or whatever the criminal filth does. if EmessaryOfTheNorth ever shows up again we’d dress him up as a goon as well
“Scotus will do all the talking for me, he is a fast-lying, untrustworthy, scam-artist, underhive garbage that frequents illegal, disreputable places like this.” Staring stone-cold at Scotus, Baron Oberstein and repeats slowly ”…IS…” before cracking into a massive grin
What do you guys say? Do you think this could work?
Sister Yolandi silently nods in agreement. She could not bring her self to utter the words. She has suffered many undignified circumstances in service to the inquisition for the God Emperor, but the worst is being someones "Arm Candy".
She straps in and stows her gear, ensuring her weapons are readily available. "I wonder who this Silas Marr is. They certainly wield a lot of authority." She thinks to herself.
Binerith looks at Orberstein, a hint of a smile on his face. No offense taken, Baron. This could work. Proper gear must be attained, however.
Vector looks in Barons direction with all the emotion of a rock. The barest of twitches in his cheek all to indicate his joy at being considered ore than a second class citizen. Few of the emperors citizens would consider a psyker anything but a chained beast after all. " I take no offense Secluse Oberstein, I never desired the powers I was granted but I will serve to the best of my abilities. I am aware my outward appearance and mannerisms can be considered inhuman even without my abilities to manipulate the warp involved." The psyker then seems to consider his words for a few moments.
" I believe I will suit the purposes of such an assignment."
So there is the familiar, plunging, shuddering drop through the carious clouds, and then the shuttle swoops down onto the pitted rok-crete of a much used landing field.
You gather your gear and file outside; your eyes watering in the acrid air. Through the haze you see the huge piles of soot-covered habs looming over you
There is a low, long black ground-car, waiting at one end of the field.
Scotus matches Reinhard's glare for glare , but breaks into a big grin a fraction of a second after the Baron does.
"Ha! That's the spirit! I like it. Play to our strengths." he says, glancing slyly at Yolandi.
Then his face falls, as he remembers their orders, "Observe and record, the Boss said. I guess that doesn't include bidding on anything of interest , eh? Takes all the fun out of it..."
He grimaces as Vector speaks, almost telling the mutant to shut-up, as he has many time over the last 3 years. But, this time he holds his tongue; the psyker has saved each of the group's lives many times...they all have.
Maybe it was time to give the mutie a break....sheesh, man, you're going soft....
Scotus ambles down the shuttle's ramp, squinting against the acrid air, Geez, what a s!%~-hole...
He pats his holster unconsiously, it's reassuring bulk heavy under his arm. He notices the ground car, and indicates it with a jerk of his head, "Our ride...."
Sister Yolandi does a thorough search around the vehicle and of the vehicle itself looking for any explosives or tracking devices. Service in the inquisition has heightened her paranoia for such things. If convinced the vehicle is free of such things she will get in the driver seat and start the vehicle.
Best to adopt the proper role as soon as we disembark in case of a casual observer we might run into later
Just before the doors of the shuttle open Oberstein looks to his team "Prepare to see me as the worst the noble houses of this sector have to offer." Looking over at Yolandi "I will apologize now in advance for the butt grabbing you will have to endure from me for my role to be believable, I promise you can slap me in the face once our mission is completed. I am willing to suffer in the emperor's name as you will need to." As Yolandi turns away from him Oberstein winks at Scotus
Baron Oberstein exits dresses in his full regalia with 2 pistols displayed, 1 pistol hidden, sword and knife on his belt, the rest of his gear in a luggage he has a menial carry to the car for him.
The car is a of a type that was once favored a decade ago in the sector's hub-worlds. There are no signs of traps, explosives, or dangerous tampering.
There is a servitor, mute and impassive, in the driver's pulpit.
In the back seat a figure is sitting, straight-backed and regal.
I get in and sit across from the figure, and say nothing till we are all in.
Once we are all in Oberstein nods at the figure "morning"
Binerith simply sit's in the car, hand inching toward his laspistol, in case anything goes wrong
Get in, get in! Every minute of breathing what passes for an atmosphere here is a month of my life gone! A voice rasps at you from the car's interior.
You recognize the speaker: its Lorelli Dekanta, a senior Explicator of your patron.
Scotus flops down into the cushioned seats opposite Lorelli, drawling, "Ah, Lori, good to see ya. Come now, 'tis the fresh scent of industry and purpose! Breath deep!" he chuckles at his own joke, grinning a big cocky grin at the woman.
She gives Scotus a withering stare, and purses her thin lips.
"Very good. We did not receive much details on this mission, and the manner it was received was uncommon so forgive me if I am overly cautious. Perhaps you can fill us on some details Lorelli?
Sister Yolandi replies as she gets in the vehicle.
Despite himself Baron Oberstein chuckles at Scotus' joke
"As Yolandi says, we're completely in the dark"
Filip silently makes himself comfortable inside the vehicle. With gloomy face and hand on reliable autopistol he was looking around because it's unlikely he can make difference in talking.
Vector with discipline learned from repeated and vicious reinforcement keeps quiet as he walks Respond only to direct questions. Give no reason to be noticed the psyker files into the towncar picking the seat furthest and easiest to avoid for others convenience. The man saying nothing but looking in Lorelli's direction while not meeting her eyes. Paying attention but not so obviously as to provoke a reaction to respond to it. Like a good psyker.
I wonder what she will have to say on this mission.
Regrettably, I'm as mystified as you are; I have been here for several miserable weeks, working with the Administratum to stall this auction, under various legal pretenses, until your arrival. She shifts uncomfortably in her seat. I can tell you that you're attending the auction as the principals of a Rogue Trader, with known ties to the criminal Cold Trade, one Ezekiel Sunder. This creature, is, if I understand correctly, a fiction used, in times past, by the Inquisitioner Silas Marr.
With you all inside, and the doors closed, powerful air-scrubbers go to work, making a persistent hissing as the car begins moving.
"So we are expected? that's good, that saves a lot of effort on our part trying to talk our way in. Is there anything we should know about Inquisitor Marr before meeting him?"
Marr is very much an enigma .
Anyone who is carefully watching Lorelli please make a challenging (+0) Scrutiny test.
The car eases through a decaying industrial zone, and is soon in heavy traffic on a major arterial road.
Sister Yolandi continues to talk to Lorelli "Any specifics on Ezekiel Sunder we should know for conversation sake? Rumors that might have been planted. "
Almost all inquisitors are not that easy to understand.
Having little else to do on the trip Vector had beeen listening intently to their guide.
However the psyker sawnothing out of place with the speaker and resumed his internal thoughts of the trip so far. We shall just have to trust that the inquisitors information is accurate. It would not be good were we to have to engauge in a fire fight in such conditions. There would be a high chance of maimin or death. And worse, reprimands
Baron Oberstein relaxes and makes sure his weapons are ready on the way
Binerith's hand edges away from his laspistol. Good to see you, Lorelli
Scouts smiles back at the woman's scowl, then looks out the darkened window at the industrial wasteland beyond.
He turns back and regards Lorelli as she replies with her succinct appraisal of Marr.
There's a whole web of myth surrounding Sunder; no one should able to fix you to any specifics. Traffic slows to a crawl. Up ahead you see armed arbiters, holding traffic back to let a procession of what look like wheeled APCs through. He operates near the Hazeroth Abyss; and has a two million throne bounty on his head.
There's a whole web of myth surrounding Sunder; no one should able to fix you to any specifics. Traffic slows to a crawl. Up ahead you see armed arbiters, holding traffic back to let a procession of what look like wheeled APCs through. He operates near the Hazeroth Abyss; and has a two million throne bounty on his head.
"we'll be sure to keep up the illusion"
Several APCs, like huge black beetles, ponderously roll across the road,before disappearing down a side-street.
Sister Yolandi will take note of the direction the APCs went and ask "Any idea who that might be?"
That looked....troubling
Scotus yawned and stretched his arms up over his head, "Troubling only if you're on the recieving end , Bin. Looks like someone's gonna get a righteous butt-thumpin'. Unless , of course those were privately held assets, the the thumpin' might be a bit more un-righteous."
He returns to his vigil of the passing city-scape, as the car gets rolling again. The old yearning comes back to him, to leap out and lose himself in the civilized wildness of the Hive...the con, the deal, the reward...all on the knife-edge of failure...death.
With a sigh, he remains, resigned to the fact that the Inquisitor owned his ass, he wasnt' going anywhere.
Baron Oberstein makes note of the APCs but says nothing
The Redemption has been very active in the Mutant Quarter of late. Dekanta says, sighing. There's a prophecy--there's always a prophecy isn't there--that some scion of the Dark Star is going to arrive on this poisoned world, and call forth the Tyrant Star to shine above this world. Though, in the weeks I've been here I haven't seen the sun at all: so maybe the Black Sun is already here, and we don't see it from underneath those blighted clouds?
"They may count on my blade ending any such heresy"
"So how long will it be til we get there? It has been to long since my and my companions visited the God Emperor's justice on mutants, heretics and witches. "
Binerith simply stays quiet. After all, he prays to the Machine God, not the Emperor
The APCs disappear into the grimy maze that apparently makes up the mutant quarter, and traffic begins rolling forward. You soon find yourself at the vast ziggurat that is the chancellery court. Dekanta summons a servitor, to take you the offices of Silas Marr.
May the Emperor watch over you. She's says, her stern mien softening, as you take your leave.
We follow the servitor to see Silas Marr
"By your leave" Sister Yolandi says respectfully and exits with Baron Reinhard. She takes a moment to take in her current location.
The servitor takes you, by a circuitous route that mainly uses back-stairs and service elevators, to your destination: a musty room, tier upon tier of shelves crowding the walls, crammed with moldering books, and stacks of faded parchment.
A bloodless clerk appears from a side door, bearing a silver tray, on which are piled parchment envelopes. He offers each of you an envelope, but leaves without answering a single question.
As you puzzle over the glyph stamped into the wax sealing your envelope another hidden door opens: two servitors bearing a sedan chair, march into the room, accompanied by a regal woman in a formal dress. Linear recognizes the tattoos that mark the sharp planes of her face; the markings of an imperially sanctioned psyker.
The servitors put down the sedan chair, detaching their carrying harnesses, and retreat to the far wall. A withered ancient studies you from inside the chair, with an intent, burning gaze. He is suddenly convulsed with a coughing fit, and the woman steps to his side, and wipes blood from his thin lips.
He then turns again to you.
I am Silar Marr, he announces in a rasping voice, and it would seem that you...are mine.