Kalaziel's page

Precinct #77, Motor Pool

As he unlocks the door to the Vesper, Rico pauses in the act and looks out across the vacant expanse of the garage, the unsettling feeling of being watched overpowering. Try as he might he cannot recall the lyrics to the tune.

He stops humming when he hears the rustling of feathered wings.

Perched upon one of the many chipped support pillars straining to hold up the monolithic block that is Precinct #77 is the enigmatic cherubim again, watching him intently.

When Kalaziel speaks, it startles Johnnie. Although the child-like voice is inflected with the same flat affect as before, he senses something different this time. As if a intelligence, yet unknown, seems to govern 'her' choice of words. A feeling that she is merely a mouthpiece; the heraldic proxy for the message of another.

"You all have a part to play."

"Do not lose hope. She may yet be saved."

"Remember, though, He is waiting for you."

Kalaziel speaks to no one in particular, her sing-song voice even causing the rickshaw driver to turn and stare.

"Directive: Rendezvous."

Kalaziel regards Uriah with the same inscrutable expression that has remained on her waxen face since shortly after the shuttle landed. It is with some surprise to all of you when she speaks again.

"Follow."

Kalaziel's high, melodic, sing-song voice utters this single word, and then she flutters out of the alleyway, flying high above the thoroughfare beyond. She roosts again on another dimly lit lamppost that lists precariously to one side, still within view and peering back at you curiously.

The cherubim flutters in from the shadows.

"She lives. For now."

"Kalaziel, do you have a copy of your Masters Itinerary or notes of his recent investigations?"

Kalaziel stares, impassively, straight ahead. 'She' says nothing in response to your query, the fluttering of her wings keeping her aloft the only noise she makes.

As the shuttle jostles from the turbulence created by the fierce winds passing through the tightly packed Upspire buildings, Savalos notices the cherubim staring at him again.

In a throaty whisper, her tiny, pursed mouth barely moving, she intones,

'Contingency protocols received...'

Kalaziel then smiles at you, her face a perfect reflection of the young child, Maia, that you once delivered toys to in the deepest recesses of the Orcut VII Underhive. For the briefest of moments, you sense a deeper intelligence abiding behind the creature's empty, doll-like eyes.

As you peer toward the back of the flight chair, Uriah, you notice the cherubim was staring down at the building with a perfectly, vapidly blank look. Upon detecting your glance, the creature speaks.

"Unable to establish connection to Master, Desius Krade; awaiting transmittal of contingency protocols."

"Kalaziel. Did your Master Decius Krade give you instructions for where he wanted to meet us?"

Kalaziel turns toward Savalos, still perched atop Uriah's flight-chair and answers in her child-like voice,

"In the event of unforeseen complications transpiring and rendering the primary mission protocol obsolete, my master, Desius Krade, orders the return of designated mission craft Churraptus callsign: Judicium ob Omnis to point of origin, Adeptus Arbites Judicial Stack Spire #17, auxiliary flight platform #334-L. Failure; pattern repeats."

Savalos, please make a Difficult (-10) Scrutiny test.

The servitor cherub stares blankly at Savalos after his introduction, betraying no emotion, and showing a disturbing, flat affect. It settles into a crouching position, roosting like some mythological sibyl upon the headrest of the chair just in front of Ishmael.

Kalaziel looks from Savalos, to Albrek, to Ishmael, to Johnnie, and then finally back to Uriah, as if following some hidden identification protocol. The extended silence and lack of a response is unnerving to say the least. When Kalaziel speaks again, it seems to be addressing all of the acolytes as a group.

"I am Kalaziel. My master, Desius Krade, extends his greetings."

"There has been a complication...

The cherub's mouth opens into a tiny "O" shape and the sounds of what can only be a static-filled vox recording replace her high-pitched voice.

[Sounds of surprise and alarm from a handful of male voices, one officious sounding voice speaks angrily over them all.]
'By whose authority are you here? Our pre-flight checks are nearly complete, we are scheduled to depart momentarily...'
[Thumping sounds, followed by a harsh exhalation of breath, cries of protest from someone, more thumping sounds followed by a man yelling for mercy.]
We are on official Adeptus Arbites judiciary business! You cannot, you WILL not do this...who...who are you? Wait, wait, answer me, PLEASE, wait!
[These plaintive cries are followed by the loud report of a single gunshot. The man's voice that was speaking before has become an incomprehensible whimper, begging, pleading. The next voice that speaks is dull, monotone, and although human it is fully without human empathy.]
'We are doing what must be done. To save us all. We carry out orders issued by those that know our only, last hope. The Emperor's blessing upon you, I truly wish it did not have to end this way.'
[The sounds of the man's whimpering increase, and he begs for his life, beseeching the man who just spoke, but to no avail. A shuffling sound, followed by another final explosion of gunfire silences his final plea.]
'Finish the pre-flight checks, you have the authentication codes if they are needed. Leave the ramp down and push off their bodies once we are airborne. It matters not; either way we will not be returning to our world again. Throne Save Us, we must succeed or all will be lost...'
[There is a sound, not unlike the tinkling of chimes, and the man's voice falters.]
'Did you hear...
[A static-filled sound carries over a vox in the background, a flight controllers voice asking for heading and bearing interrupts the man.]
Never mind...answer them. Send a transmission to the Void Needle's bridge as well. Let them know that Krade's envoys are on their way to retrieve the Holy Ordos' delegation.
[The vox recording trails off into static and the sound of firing engines.]

Kalaziel closes her mouth, and then finishes her sentence:

...that has transpired.

You all watch in astonishment, the argument momentarily forgotten, as a tiny cherubim flutters out of the aperture, its short, wasted, almost emaciated limbs standing out in stark contrast to the luxurious looking, brown feathered wings that suspend it in midair. Its face is that of a small child no older than three or four, but strangely with flesh in the unexpected hue of light umber. Wide, almond-shaped, expressive eyes examine you with a picqued curiosity, A small button nose and tiny pursed lips round out the bizarre servitor's features. Were it not for the red-hued cabling and machinator arrays criss-crossing and tunneling through the petite creature's head and body it might be perceived as a holy angel.

When it speaks, its voice is not so different from the soft ringing shards of the chandelier.

"I am Kalaziel. My master, Desius Krade, extends his greetings."