Augustus' shoulders slump slightly as the two of them zero in on what seems to be his true purpose in life, but there's a kind of comforting familarity in it and he rallies with a smile. "I'll try to sort out some rice and other food for our meals, yes. Cooking's something else I can do, so I'll try to keep you both happy."
He glances at Hand cautiously. "What do we call you?" The tall warrior was so.. well, quiet. Augustus wondered why, and also why he wore a mask. Did he have something to hide? As he loked over him he realised Atella was right, all his weapons were primtive things, unblessed by the power of the machine spirits. Had he done something to anger them, perhaps? He wondered if he'd answer the pysker's question.
Atella turns towards Hand. "How come you don't wear a gun?"
He looks at her wondering where she has spent her life not to know the most basic of tenants of faith.
'Blood must flow. We are cleansed by the blood.'
He then looks at Augustus and says, 'Hand.'
Atella tilts her head with a puzzeled expression while looking at Hand. "Umm.. What? You want to feel the blood of your foes or something? Isn't that a bit.. well.. risky?"
"Not to mention crazy and very very odd... But then again, I suppose I could kill with my mind. That's odd too I suppose..
More words and more strange questions. It was like dealing with fresh numbers that had not learned the glory of giving up their lives for the Emperor.
'If blood does not flow then the wound becomes contaminated. Infection sets in. The body will die. Unless the Emperor makes a new wound so the blood can flow.'
Augustus stares at Hand like he's grown an extra head. "You do it so your enemies don't become infected, aren't you trying to kill them?"
He glances at Atella to try and determine her reaction. "This creature's some sort of savage, but maybe that's the point. Who better to cull heretics?"
"But people bleed when shot too, why not use a gun? You could use one if them guns that shoot lead if you are afraid there won't be any blood with a las gun."
Atella studies Hand for a few seconds and then adds. "Or is it a religious thing to show your devotion to the Emperor?"
More questions and more words and he had used over fifty today. He was new to being away from the temple and he was being tempted into dark ways.
Words lead to thoughts. Thoughts lead to questions. Questions lead to mistakes. Mistakes lead to failure. Failure is weakness. Weakness must be purged.
Hand pulled what looked like a short length of spiked chain from his vest. It had what looked like some sort of Imperial symbol worked in some type of purity design. It most resembled the type of chain collar that is sometimes used by poor animal trainers with the spiked prongs pointing inward toward the skin. Hand wraps it around his upper left arm and tightens the fastenings so it pokes through his body glove armour and digs into his flesh to start blood flowing.
I will need to do penance for all the words that I have used and will need to use today. Penance and several days of solitude, he decided. He no longer had the priests to give appropriate punishment; so, he must do it himself or weakness would enter his blood. Weakness that would lead to him needing to be purged.
The man in robes did not understand but that was acceptable. His blood was weak and the Emperor would surely purge his weakness.
Guns and bullets. He remembered being shown these things. They were loud and crude. They also smelled terrible. He also remembered another problem with them.
'The bullets, after you fire them, how do you purify them so their spirits can rest?'
"But the spirit resides in the gun, does it not? I wish we had a tech-priest to answer our questions.... Can a las shot be unpure then? It is the emperors holy judgement. I've read it in this guard folder!" Atella holds up a pamphlet with the aquila printed on top and some catchy slogans.
Augustus' eyes widened and he took a step backward as Hand delibrately sliced his arm open. "Is this how a savage venerates the Emperor, with blood? Perhaps it's as close as he can get to understanding, so long as he doesn't bring that thing near me I can live with it. I have more civilised ways to honour Him."
His question though, that was revelant and important, and it might explain why he didn't carry any machines, he didn't know the rituals that needed to be performed for the machine spirits.
Augustus could understand that, it was proper to not use machines without the correct rituals, but it was still a sign of ignorance to not know them and he wondered if the savage could be correctly educated. His faith seemed to be true, just uneducated, so there was hope.
"Every morning and evening we carry out rituals to bless and thank the machine spirits of what we carry. This includes the bullets we fire from them. As long as we remember to perform the rituals correctly they'll continue to be satisfied and to do as we ask." He nods at Hand with the faintly arrogant manner of someone raised on one of the Imperium's 'true' worlds. "I can show you the right rituals, if you like."
He glances at Atella as well. She should certainly know the rituals if she'd served the Guard.
But perhaps it was an offense for someone tainted by evil to perform them.. "I don't know the arcane as a tech priest would, but I have been taught the rituals for the weapon I carry." He didn't comment on the Emperor's judgement, it wasn't his place and he'd ask a cleric or priest if he wanted an answer. He just served the Imperium and honoured the Emperor as he'd been taught.
It was clear that Atella was as confused as he was on this matter. She showed wisdom in wanting to consult a priest. Augustus seemed more certain of things though he talked of such non-sense like machines having spirits.
There was the Emperor. His spirit was all and in all. The Emperor pointed out the unclean and the blood was shed to make things pure.
Still, this Augustus understood rituals needed to be done for weapons. This was good. Hand didn't bother with guns but if he ever was given one he should do the correct rituals to keep it happy. An angry weapon could poison your dreams and leave you weak in the morning. Weakness was purged.
'Yes, teach me these rituals; so, I do not offend the spirits of the weapons.'
Augustus nods at Hand, it looked like there was hope for the creature yet. "The major rituals are those of Cleaning and Maintaining, but they'd take time to explain, and I don't want to offend the Inquistior."
He glanced at the Arbitier, waiting to see what their task was as a feeling of dread rose within him, talking to Hand and Atella had helped take his mind off it, but now it was back and he muttered a litany to the Emperor in his head.
"I am his loyal servant and I shall feel no fear in His service."
Atella takes up a copy of the imperial guardsmans uplifting primer and places the pamphlet within it. The small book shows large blackened stains on it and the cover is torn. It seems to be fairly new other than that though. She then proceeds to return it to her pocket.
"Umm... do you need to do that thing with the spiked chain often? Is that.. eh.. Why -do- you do that?"
Atella then points at Hands injured arm. "Do you want me to help you with that though? I am a -very- competent medicae."
She continues probingly, almost sounding preppy "You can't have an injured arm if you are to slay enemies? Right?"
"I have a few incantations and prayers to recite while using and modifying your ranged weapons too. When we get time to sit down I can teach you them if you want." She taps the book through the fabric of the robe.
DM: What detail's are on the tablet?
“Atella when a las burns through flesh it boils the blood inside causing a small steam explosion, Las' are far from bloodless”.
“Augustus remember the dangers and penalties of spreading lethal knowledge to those not approved”.
“Hand, purity comes from doing the Emperor’s will. A nail board picked up from the ground and used to kill the unclean is as pure as gun or sword is right after its daily rituals of maintenance”.
“On our mission you will see and hear things that don’t agree with what you have been taught. Contradict your preconceived notions of how the universe is supposed to behave. We are going into the belly of the beast; our only protection is each other. Wisdom guided our Inquisitors hand in assembling this team, a wisdom we might not understand yet but we will not fail.
Each of you died when you became part of this team, you’re lives sacrificed for our goals. Do not let such a sacrifice be spoiled by indecision or fear”.
"Call me Tocal, as very few can pronounce my given name correctly".
I'll relay the pertinent details of the mission as soon as the DM tells me."
"Augustus, it looks like you'll be our driver for now."
"Hand I'll need you to assess the security and find the weak points of our destination.”
“Atella I’ll need you to stay close and pick up any stray thoughts coming our way”.
"And Hand no more self injury unless ordered to do so."
"Yes, Master Tocal. But I must say, I have very few notions of how the universe is supposed to behave. If anything I believe all of you will come a little bit closer to what I have already seen through the emperors eyes."
"I'll try and help if I can when the strange things comes along though." Atella smiles slightly.
Atella takes up a copy of the imperial guardsmans uplifting primer and places the pamphlet within it. The small book shows large blackened stains on it and the cover is torn. It seems to be fairly new other than that though. She then proceeds to return it to her pocket.
"Umm... do you need to do that thing with the spiked chain often? Is that.. eh.. Why -do- you do that?"
Penance.
Atella then points at Hands injured arm. "Do you want me to help you with that though? I am a -very- competent medicae."
She continues probingly, almost sounding preppy "You can't have an injured arm if you are to slay enemies? Right?""I have a few incantations and prayers to recite while using and modifying your ranged weapons too. When we get time to sit down I can teach you them if you want." She taps the book through the fabric of the robe.
'No. This will purify me.'
Hand first hears words that he expects from Tocal. Hand is given a job, a purpose. Find a way in. Get close to the deader. Hear the deader breath. Take the deader's breath. Purge the wound.
'I obey.'
Hand wonders at Tocals strange request to not do self injury. Of course he wouldn't self injure himself. Only a fool would stick a knife in them without being ordered. Penance wasn't self injury. It was purification of the soul.
|
For Tocal
Hence, the Mission Objectives are:
Investigate the Killings and Discover the Perpetrator.
Under No Circumstances SHALL the Involvement of the Inquisition Be Revealed.
Team Designation:
Thought for the Day: All that He Asks is that You Shall Hate
I'll make a short list of the most likely suspects and we'll head there.
"We are Omega 15; no mention of the Inquisition is to be made. Officially we are here to assist the locals with some murders. Something besides worker angst is behind the murders and we uncover it and cleanse it".
Augustus frowns in suprise as Tocal tells him not to spread knowledge of the rituals. Every loyal servant of the Emperor should practice them, honouring his gifts was another way of honouring him. At the moment though, he didn't want to risk arguring with their leader.
Then his eyes widened. Dead?! Well, yes, he must just mean no one knew they existed, Augustus had no plans of dying, not at the hands of enemies of the Golden Throne. If Tocal wanted to die, that was up to him.
He nodded as their mission was stated and his role was defined. Yes Sir, driving it is.." His pride bubbled up a little and he racked his memories to see if he had ever been told stories about this planet and show more of his worth to the group, but nothing came to mind.
"How are we getting down to the planet? I'm not trained in the rituals of spacecraft."
He glances at their team leader. "So what names do we use? What's our plan, where do we start?" He pauses. "What about trying to find out if something connects the murder victims? It sounds good to me."
"If we are to be Omega 15 on this trip I want a secret name. Unless it's given in that." She points at the dataslate Tocal holds. "I want to be called Cyrine from now on, I always liked that name." She smiles
"I can fly and bless the greatness of a spacecraft. Not just very well.. I wasn't raised a pilot."
Hand listened to the instructions. They were to blend in with the other people of society and find the murderer. A person that didn't do the proper rituals to offer blood in the Emperor's name.
It was a common problem among the numbers that lived a few years. There were always a few that enjoyed the ritual and tried to enact it at every opportunity to better protect them. The priests taught this was selfish as blood was meant for the Emperor and the Emperor's needs alone.
The Eye of Emperor upon you was a blessing that should not be drawn out for selfish needs. There were millions needing the Emperor every minute and he needed them to help sustain his work.
The talkers, of course, talked. Hand was interested to learn that Atella could fly. He was more interested to learn that she hadn't been already using a secret name though Atella might be a secret name. Still, her choice of Cyrine, would be problematic.
Certainly, people would notice her unusual choice of name as it was not like the others. Hand decided it was his job as being more experienced in this sort of thing to show how a person chose a name that matched the pattern of others.
Hand removed his mask and stored it with his equipment harness. His features were of a Caucasian man with smooth skin that was not out of his late teens. Hand then removed the braiding that had kept his hair tied back revealing that it was longer down his back then his shoulder blades.
His smooth looks and strong physique would normally have called attention to him in most bars or schools. His features, though, were the features of a statue. They were locked with no emotion. No animation of the soul.
'Call me Twenty-Three,' he said.
It was a good number that didn't have anything remarkable to call attention to it. It would blend in with all the other numbers.
Augustus stares at Hand like he was from another planet. (Which in fact he was.)
"I'm not sure that's the best name to avoid attention." He tilts his head as the mask comes off, relieved that the man had a human face, Augustus had begun to worry that he might be some sort of mutant, given the other company he was with.
But then, the Inquistion would never do such a thing.
"I think I like the sound of Garm."
Atellas mouth opens a little when Hand removes his mask. "Hey, you look much nicer without the mask on."
She then adds "On the ship I was born we didn't use numbers, is that a planet thing?"
Atella suddenly made a lot more sense to Augustus. No wonder she was tainted and had such a ghost like appearance. She hadn't been born on one of the Emperor's worlds, but between them, in an abyss. It had marked her, that much was clear. How could they hide themselves on the planet when every loyal servant of the Emperor would turn against her? Augustus would serve with her because the Inquistion demanded it, and they followed the will of the Emperor, but the planet's residents wouldn't know that, they couldn't be allowed to.
It truly was a moral tangle and it was clear Augustus would need to give much of his free will up to the will of the Emperor to make it through this.
He answered her question quietly, his mind mostly wlsewhere, which might explain the answer he gave. "No, civilised people use names, not numbers."
Hand wondered at this talk. It was like he didn't fit in. He fit in perfectly at the temple.
When he had served the governor there had been no problems. He stayed in his apartment as he was told. When the governor needed something, he was driven to a place, given a picture, and told to kill.
When the Inquisitor acquired his contract, he had brought him to a berth which was another name for an apartment. Hand had expected that he would be just taken somewhere and told to kill.
These talkers, discussed all sorts of things like where they were born. How could they know that? Surely they were raised like other people and had been taken from their parents before most memories remain.
It was easier that way as the young didn't suffer long. Crying was not tolerated and those that did not understand that were soon determined to be weak. Weak blood was purged.
Hand didn't understand this talk of being born on ships or being civilized. Maybe they were like the words 'apartment' and 'berth'. They were the same word for temple.
Though the man, Augustus, was clearly confused. He thought that names and numbers were clearly separate ideas. Maybe, since he was some sort of priest that instructed in rituals, he was testing Hand. The priests were constantly testing the faithful.
'I was raised at the temple.'
'Names are numbers.'
"Allright.. Should I also have a number?"
'Fifty-Seven. It is a good number. It won't call attention.'
Hand looks at Augustus and decides, 'Eighty-Eight. A popular name that is very lucky. You look like you will need all the luck you can get. I knew several that killed each other for possession of such a lucky name.'
Hand looks then at Tocal, 'I would suggest Six for you. Four would be a better number as Four is a number feared but you don't want to draw attention. Six is good?'
Last, Hand decided they should give a number to the Inquisitor. 'We should also have a name for the Inquisitor if we are not to talk of her. I would suggest Two. It is an easy number to remember but won't call attention to it like One would.'
"Oh, on the ship number one was the second in command.. So she was not number one at all" Atella chuckles at her own joke "I wanted to be called Number One, one day.. Oh well.. I guess 57 is ok if anything.. Is it anything special with that number?"
Augustus frowns, looking offended. "Is there a reason I'm the lowest ranking in numbers, I'm the.." He glances at the leader, the killer and the pysker and sighs. "Nevermind. Woohoo, I'm eighty eight, what fun."
"Where in the Emperor's name did this man grow up? What temple?"
"Perhaps you wanted a three digit number Augustus? Among my shipmates only the ones doing penance work got that." Atella laughs and pokes Augustus upper arm with her finger.
Augustus flinched back like her finger was red hot, shaking his head with a sudden look of fear. "No, don't, you don't touch me, that's not right."
Who knew what witchcraft she could perform with a touch, no matter how innocent it seemed. He was going to have to be very, very careful around her.
57 looks at 88 with disgust in her eyes. "Fine, be that way. I thought you where differen." She walks over to 23 and makes sure he's between her and 88. She then proceeds at making all kinds of grimaches towards him.
88 folds his arms, trying to look indifferent, but he avoids her gaze and feels a little guilty. It wasn't her fault she was what she was, but she was so dangerous, and so tainted, how could he ever let her near him safely?
Trying hard not to roll his eyes, "The locals know we're not from Lordsholm so a disguise won't be necessary, yet."
“As for transport we go to the dock and request one and then if they don’t have one, we borrow one.”
Atella turns to Tocal. "Sounds good and all but.. do we really want to steal a ship from the inquisition? That's a bit risky even for me.."
Augustus nods. "I don't think we'll have trouble sorting out a way to the surface, not if she wants us to get there. And well.. yeah, I suppose I'm ready to go when we are all."
"Borrow, we'll return it when we're done. Stealing implys we never intend to return it and profit from our actions."
Atella stares at Augustus "Are you really sure you are ready 888? You look a little..." Before finishing the sentence she takes a step forward pokes Augustus hard on his upper arm again.
"...slow"
She then laughs and returns smiling to where she stood before.
"I'm ready Master Tocal"
Augustus flinches, but controls it better this time, assuming a stoic expression. "Quite ready to go now.."
He gives Atella a faint glare. What if all her games and playfulness was just to hide a deception of some sort? He would not let her catch him off guard. He would -not-.
He smiled a little despite himself, then wiped it from his face, reciting a litany to the Emperor in his head to protect himself from evil and trickery. She was referring to him doing penace work, she was taunting him and saw him as weak. He'd prove her wrong.
Atella stands with her arms crossed, flying a superior grin on her face. "Of cource you are right Master Tocal, the inquisition will provide. Lead on and we'll get to the bottom of this little murder mystery."
|
|
You exit the rendezvous point. You watch as the doors iris shut, abandoning you to whatever fate the Emperor has in store for you. Steam vents out of several ill-maintained valves, doing nothing to cheer up the dismal, dank atmosphere.
A figure steps out of the shadows, clearly waiting for you. Clad in somber robes, the figure presents a humble appearance.
"Acolytes," says a strong, firm voice, "a moment of your time before you go."
Edit: Fail
"Hello, how may we help you?"