Dark Heresy - Wisdom is the beginning of fear.

[Capntastic]

Mik was content to idlydrum on the steering wheel a bit, seeing that nothing disastrous had occured. He wished he had a big greasy lho stick to keep him alert for the drive ahead. Conversation was scarce, and while tales of the Saints were exciting, they couldn't replace the legends he shared with his old crew.

[Jak Snide]

The group made their way back down the outcrop with relative ease and boarded the truck once again. Aristarchus seemed to be in high spirits, and understandably so, while Xerxes seemed a little on edge, his eyes scanning the various ridges for something. Mikolas was just happy to get to vehicle moving again, gunning the engine and racing off at something close to a safe speed.

---

Night fell before they reached Stern Hope, but Aristarchus told them to push on. Mikolas was thankful to find that the illuminators on the front of the truck were in working order, though he was still forced to slow down by rising foothills on either side, the increasingly winding road the encroaching darkness. Not that it was as bad as the previous night; where it had once been overcast the sky was now clear, stars shining brightly and providing some meagre amount of illumination themselves. An hour later they finally caught sight of Stern Hope, initially only the glimmering of a few lights in the distance. As they drew closer they could make out a settlement centred on a broad hill and then, a moment later, a rough wall of crudely piled up stone and black flint which impeded their progress, stretching off in both directions into the darkness . Watch fires burnt along the top of the wall and, as they came to a halt, the acolytes could see numerous guns jutting out, silhouetted against the firelight.

A heavy pair of wire-mesh and steel gates swung open before them and a tall figure emerged from the breach, wrapped in a dark cloak with a rifle slung over his back. He held an axe in one hand, held high as he waved for them to dismount with the other.

"Do as he indicates and make no sudden moves." the seer ordered them quietly, stepping out of his seat and standing by the side of their vehicle.

[Kelne]

Cryvus complied without question. It was a rough planet, and he could fully understand the locals being cautious about letting anyone in after dark. Added to which, the reported strange occurrences must surely have them on edge.

[NamagomiMk0]

Crisis nodded in response ot Aristarchus. Given that he was in charge, and more knowledgable of the situation than he would be, it was wise to follow the advice here...

...at the same time, he couldn't help but look about, noting both the guns projecting from the wall and the rather armed guard, and noting that they would be in for an amazingly hard fight were anyone to do something stupid. In fact, so hard that he'd rather escape.

He shook his head ever so slightly. No need to think like that--yet. As long as they don't open fire on him, things should be okay...

...as long as Mikolas doesn't fuck anything up, things should be okay.



And so, he slowly climbed off the back of the truck, avoiding the wire in the process, once there, standing beside the vehicle and awaiting further orders...

[Capntastic]

Mik left the lights on, but deactivated the engine. He then stepped out, and held his hands up to show he wasn't holding a weapon, currently.

And then he waited for further command.

[Christian]

Mithras had been awfully quiet the whole trip, eyes as goggly as always yet he'd neither been tending to his weaponry nor read through his rather battered issue of the Imperial Infantryman's Uplifting Primer.

In fact, he'd been mostly just staring out into the darkness, sometimes looking asleep... yet the illusion was ruined by a cough, a turn or the occasional crack as a he twisted a stiff neck or shoulder.

His weapons, however, were no longer lying with his backpack. His laspistol, of course, was in his holster, and his shotgun was between his legs, safety thankfully on. His lasgun was cradled in the pit of his arm, swaying in motion with it as he seemed ready to fire at anything getting too close... or close at all.


As they reached the small settlement, the guardsman wasted little time in jumping out. At first he still held on to his lasgun, but seeing how the others acted he put it back into the vehicle, his lips as thinly pressed as a line drawn on a paper.

[Jak Snide]

Xerxes did his best to look intimidated as he disembarked, though it would be a hard task to spot him and his black armour in the darkness. The cloaked man closed on the group, glaring at each of them suspiciously. He seemed to consider for a time and then, in one fluid motion, bowed deeply and said "Welcome, Servants of the Emperor, you are free to enter."

---

They rode their flatbed through the gates and down what looked to be Stern Hope's main street. A harsh wind blew through the settlement, carrying dust and the musty scent of human living with it. Low illumination swept through the curtained doorways of the dwellings and from the night fires burning in old promethium drums dotted about, the smell of smoke and cooking blending with the night air. It had the feel of a refugee camp, composed from scores of haphazardly erected tents, lean-tos, shacks and the occasional flint-block building ranging from small, one man affairs to larger family sized dwellings. All these were arranged in a rough circle around a bare, rocky hill on which the outline of a great domed building was visible.

A few of the locals had left their homes to gawp and stare at the newcomers and appeared to be composed of a startling number of different ethnicities, the void born among the acolytes having no doubt a great many of them were not born on Iocanthos. Signs of the Imperial faith dotted each and every one of them; aquila necklaces, ritual markings on cheeks or bare chests and other signs of devotion were all plentiful, their practical clothing almost seeming odd when contrasted with these effects. Even a few poor quality tapestries hung from the more sturdy dwellings. Some of the bolder adults moved close to the truck and bowed, making the sign of the aquila with both hands as nervous children stared wide-eyed from behind them, one or two even begging for blessings from Him On Terra with hushed and reverent tones.

A strong voice hailed them from one side of the path, jolting the acolytes from whatever thoughts they were having. A smiling, heavy-set man in the dark robes of a monk approached with a shuttered lamp in hand. He took a pointed look at the numerous weapons they'd brought with them before grinning at them and winking with a bright blue eye, the other being bionic and incapable of such an act.

"Greetings, pilgrims. Such faith and preparation is admirable to see. You are the help the abbot has sent for, yes? Truly we are not forgotten. I am Brother Lamark, one of the churchmen of this mission. Welcome to Stern Hope! The abbot awaits your pleasure at the priory in the morning after you are rested. Unfortunately his currently occupied, though he sends his apologies for not greeting you himself."

Lamark appeared to be in his fifties and quite solidly built, the smile on his face seemingly ever present. The lasgun he wore on one shoulder also suggested he was a far cry from the cloistered clergy of the Tarsus chantries back on Scintilla.

Mithras:

Spoiler:

You, however, know exactly who this man is. You served with him on Tranch, after all. He was an NCO put in charge of leading a platoon of survivors from other regiments. Even the grim nature of fighting mutant insurgents never seemed to be able to dull his spirits, the guardsman remembering Lamark as a talkative sort, a lover of drink and a good man to serve under. You can still remember his clad in his armour, a tankard raised to toast another day alive. Ah, the memories.

[Christian]

Mithras muttered a gruff something-something as he climbed aboard the vehicle once more. What had been the point of that? He remained silent as they drove into the encampment, but for anyone looking it became clear that the sight of people and children not rushing towards them with murderous intent seemed to soften his expression a bit.

At the sight of the portly man, however, Mithras gave a long series of quite laudible curses before merely jumping down from the vehicle, his quick pace bridging the distance between them.

For the first time in a long time, a honest smile was on the gritted guardsmans face.

"Brother Lamark!?" his tone was now completely different; a mixture of surprise, joy and bitterness, "well, if you lead the sermon as well as you used to lead us, I say it's a wise decision!"

[Jak Snide]

"By the Emperor's bones, Avelock!" Lamark exclaimed, pacing towards the guardsman to seize his hand and give it a vigorous shake. "It's good to see you made it off that Throne-forsaken rock! I thought I was the only one. How are you doing? Keeping good company, I see!" He grinned again as he looked towards the others. "Who are these fine fellows?"

[Capntastic]

"I'm Mikolas", the stout one said. "Uh... At your service."

[Christian]

Mithras returned the shake with a grin and indicated the rest of the group with his left hand.

"Well, looked like I caught someone's interest back on Tranch; got hauled off once they found my hiding place and got sent on a mission here with this merry bunch, I'll leave their introductions to themselves, though."

He fell into a relaxed sort of speaking no one in the group had yet seen him in. He talked faster and seemed to mix in a jargon of dubious military-origin, throwing around references to old fights together with slang and words from hundreds if not thousands of vastly different places.




((Seeing as I'm not exactly familiar with military jargon to begin with... I'll have to rely on everyone's power of imagination))

[Jak Snide]

Lamark talked and laughed with Mithras for a moment, the priest's vocabulary slipping back to that of a soldier's for a few moments before excusing himself and turned his attention to the others once again.

"We arranged accommodations for you at the Crying Clota, our guest hall and inn of sorts. Not much, but better than a tent! Come, I'll show you the way."

The acolytes dismounted and followed after the robust man as he and Mithras fell back into conversation, their sentences littered with three-letter-abbreviations for pieces of kit and procedures as they discussed old times. Those listening in would hear some grim tales; despite the high spirits of the two men whatever war was being fought on the planet Tranch sounded like a dire affair and Mithras' mood darkened occasionally as a one event or another was brought up. Aristarchus brought up the rear, the seer having to be notified that they were being lead to their quarters by Xerxes. He had seemed distracted, his eyes fixed on the domed cathedral on the hill.

The Crying Clota was one of the sturdier looking buildings of Stern Hope, constructed from old scrap wood, flint blocks and corrugated iron. While it looked like it would collapse under a strong wind it had yet to yield to the one that swept through the settlement, though the numerous brass cartridges and shells that hung from strings along the front porch did tinkle fitfully in the breeze, though it did little to drown out the raucous noise coming from within.

Brother Lamark led them inside and into a bar room which largely took up the ground floor, a dozen tables and half as many booths providing ample places to sit. Or it would have done had the place not been packed, the mass of people barely leaving any room to stand. The priest did a fine job of clearing the way to the bar, though, the citizenry of Stern Hope pleased to see both him and the acolytes. Even Crisis was confronted with an array of ruddy faces and warm smiles. Lamark had words with a small, twitchy looking Ashleen before turned to the acolytes and informing them that they'd been given four rooms upstairs, another Ashleen approaching them and offering to take them to their quarters. Aristarchus accepted the offer and disappeared upstairs, looking slightly ill at ease with the dozens of people around him, though he did bid them all to look around town. Lamark, meanwhile, offered to join the acolytes for a drink, Mithras noting with amusement that the man's love of revelry clearly hadn't diminished over the years.

(Aristarchus has retired upstairs and you're each free to do so as well. For those that don't there's the option to remain downstairs in the bar and talk with Lamark and the dozens of locals as well as enjoy whatever brew they Crying Clota stocks. For those wishing to venture outside those within the bar are kind enough to give them enough of an idea of where things are for me to post this map. The night is very dark, however, Iocanthos being without any moons, though there's enough illumination dotted about to prevent anyone from getting hopelessly lost.)

[Capntastic]

The ails of a hard drive can be cured with a hard drink, Mik's philosophy led him to decide. He rolled up to the bar, looked around for a tender, and grinned out a simple "What've ya got?"

[Kelne]

Cryvus, not being much of a one for revelry and certainly not for booze, hung back a little to begin with. Upon hearing that accommodation had been arranged, and they would be conveyed to their rooms when the need arose, he simply nodded and excused himself altogether.

The quiet night air outside the bar came as something of a relief. Certainly, he'd become used to masses of humanity surrounding him back in the Hive and to a lesser extent aboard the Brazen Sky. However, such concentrations were the norm there. Here on Iocanthos, humanity was thin on the ground, and empty spaces were the norm. The bar's noisy revelry put him in mind of people huddling together to drive back the darkness around the campfire.

A laudable enough goal, but under the circumstances, he wondered how much good it would do. There was some old power at play here, he felt sure, with the clear intervention of the Saint surely pointing to hard times ahead.

With little constructive to do in town, but no great desire to reenter the tavern, Cryvus let his gaze wander across the dark bulk of the cathedral. A monument to the Emperor's glory, to be sure, and yet it stood at the heart of the disturbances. Upon its fate would turn a great many things.

[Jak Snide]

Mikolas drew the attention of the scrawny Ashleen that Brother Lamark had spoken to about their rooms. The massive warrior towered over the man, the latter seeming slightly nervous despite his friendly smile.

"Spitbrew Ale, mainly. We brew it ourselves, so we've got plenty to go around. Or, if that doesn't take your fancy, we've got some amasec from offworld." He gestured to a row of bottles behind the bar, most half-empty and missing their labels. "Half-Throne a pint, two for a measure of the hard stuff. Got some stew too, if your gut's empty."

Mithras found himself being dragged to the bar by Lamark, his old officer ordering them both a pint and began regaling those nearby with exaggerated tales of heroism on Tranch, though he took care to spare them from the horrible details that still nestled within the guardsman's mind.

Xerxes gave Crisis a polite nod and headed off to a nearby table, removing his helmet and integrating himself with those seated there with a smile and a few silvered words. Alone within the crowd he instinctively picked up the thread of a half dozen conversations as he watched Cryvus make his way outside.

---

The cathedral loomed over Cryvus. It was hard to resolve any details in the dark, but he could make out the tall Imperial Aquila that topped each of four high pillars set equidistantly around the massive dome of the main building. It was nothing compared to some of the edifices he'd visited in his time, certainly, but when contrasted with the scattered buildings and tents of Stern Hope it was an imposing sight. He found himself marvelling at what these people had achieved with nothing more than hard work and faith.

The cawing call of a bird drew his attention away from the cathedral and to a post stuck in the ground by one of the tents. An engraved wooden tablet hung from it, clattering in the breeze. Atop it, though, was perched a bird. Aristarchus had been correct. The thing did indeed look more like some sort of feathered reptile than a bird, though what struck him as truly odd was it's head. Thin and elongated, it was utterly devoid of any features save for a similarly slender beak. But he couldn't shake the feeling that the creature was watching him. A moment of silence passed before a shrill cry leapt through the air.

The bird took flight, narrowly escaping the blade of a shovel as it arced through the air. "Bloody crows!" it's assailant cried out, her voice as high pitched as her battle-cry. "Always nestin' on me charms!" The woman glanced towards Cryvus. "What-er you lookin' at?" she asked in a hostile tone.

[Christian]

Mithras, although having never been much for drinking, couldn't refused his old COs offer. He soon found himself filling in on details in the stories and even retelling some himself of the times in between his landing on Tranch and his meeting up with the Survivors.

Whether because of the haze of alcohol slowly entering his bloodstream, or the fact that he was for the first time in a long while enjoying himself in familiar company, Mithras found himself a lot more relaxed and at ease and, most surprisingly, his eyes had nearly stopped their incessant swivelling in his sockets, insteady simply trying to focus on his drinks or the group he was talking with.

[Kelne]

"The crow, madam," Cryvus said, "A treacherous beast and not to trusted, I find. Everywhere I go I see them. It seems I have no escape."

Once again, the words of the sun-baked madman come to mind - 'The Crow Father, come to drown us all in lies.' If such a being exists, then surely his servants seem to have their eyes on Cryvus. It could be that he owed this woman a debt of gratitude for driving this one off.

[NamagomiMk0]

By the time Crisis walked into the Crying Clota, he was absolutely exhausted. Some say that the best men can be vigilant at all times.

...the truth is, vigilance is hard work. And Crisis wasn't used to hard work for long periods of time--not of that sort, anyway. Observation of patterns, tendencies, and routines of targets-right before a rifle bullet gets blown through their skull-is one thing. Standing on watch to make sure nothing attacked was completely different. And so, he notably walked slower, and looking less than comfortable in general.

It was a good thing that Mikolas did NOT do anything wrong. That was the last thing he needed, and Crisis would've been ready to test his Hand Cannon out on Mik's thick head first, the way he saw it.

Noting that this was a place of eating and drinking, he pulled out his writing gear, scribbling out a message before showing it to someone who looked like they were running the place.

'I desire mild sustenance. What can I have for how much?'

[Jak Snide]

Mithras eased into the spirit of the evening, finding himself at the center of a great deal of attention. Lamark was clearly beloved by his flock and the people of Stern Hope were eating up the tales of his soldiering days. By being part of them the now relaxed guardsman found he was also on the receiving end of a fair bit of their fondness. The memories of Tranch didn't seem so bad in this moment.

Crisis, meanwhile, found an Ashleen serving girl behind the bar. She looked at him and his note with bemusement hidden behind a polite smile before and a blue flame tattoo before one of the men at the bar came to her aid. He was an elderly chap with grubby spectacles balanced on the end of his nose. He looked slightly out of place in a bar filled with revelry.

"The gentleman asks what food and drink you have, as well as how much it costs." He spoke carefully, as if he was considering each word. The girl nodded in thanks, her uncertainty gone.

"Well, we've got some stew bubbling if you're hungry. It's part of board, so you'll welcome to a bowl. For drinks we've got some ale and some imported spirits, half-throne and and two for each."

---

The shovel wielding women relaxed, possibly having identified Cryvus as one of their esteemed guests or just glad to have found another crow-hater.

"Aye, bloody things are everywhere these days! Give me the shivers, they do, staring at ye with their blind faces and sittin' on me charms!" She swept a hand out, drawing the man's attention to a number of other posts hammered into the ground around her tent, each with some sort of religious icon hung from it. "Never had anything like them back home."

[Capntastic]

Mik dug in one of his myriad inner-jacket pockets before slamming a few thrones onto the bar.

"This ought'a get my and my crew rolling. I'll have a bit of everything you got, for starters. S'been a long drive!"

He looked over to Crisis and his attempts at communication and changed his tone from raucous to sly without lowering his volume.

"Make sure he gets somethin' hearty, too. He's all malnourished or somethin'."

[Christian]

Put somewhat at ease by the pleasantry of the evening, Mithras was caught unprepared when he overheard the discussion later that night. Forgotten feelings bubbled up to the surface and an unpleasant air fell upon him as the realization of their mission crashed down upon him once more.

Truly this was a damned business, but one he would see through.

It would take some planning and gathering of courage, he thought as he downed some more of the local brew, before he brought up the subject with Lamark. Still, he was blessed with at least knowing someone in the area.

Thus then, later on, he approached Lamark when the two were fairly alone about the subject of what he had overheard.

[NamagomiMk0]

His trained ears picking something or other up, Crisis quickly writes something down before stowing it away within his cloak. After then, he nods, writing down something on a separate sheet before showing it to the spectacled man:

'I would prefer an import'

After writing it, he stowed the rest of the kit away, pulling out two thrones' worth to offer as payment...


He mentally noted to show Aristarchus what he had learned--either before going to bed or as soon as he woke up...

[Jak Snide]

Cryvus made idle chit-chat with the woman for a few minutes. Apparently she had been saved from a scavenger's life by the Abbot Skae after her husband had been killed and seemed very grateful to him for giving her a purpose in life again. Eventually he decided to retire to his room, noting that the others were seemingly happy to stay up as he passed through the bar.

Mikolas found once again that the application of a small amount of money went a long way towards making the bar staff like him. While Mithras was too involved in his conversation to claim drinks, Xerxes took his fellow acolyte up on the offer and saved no time in picking out a nice bottle to take back to his table, having cultivated a conversation of his own with a few locals. Crisis, meanwhile, ordered himself a bowl of stew and a reasonable amount of amasec with the help of the bespectacled man next to him. The latter burned his throat on the way down, leaving him with a warm glow in his stomach, while the former proved thick and listless, making him feel vaguely nostalgic about the protein paste he'd been brought up on.

Crisis and Xerxes retired upstairs after an hour or so, leaving the two warriors with an only slightly depleted crowd. Mikolas was putting a sizeable dent in the bar's stock of liqueur, his own drinking complemented by a pair of fine young ladies who he somehow ended up paying the way for and entertaining with outlandish tales of his home planet.

Mithras kept himself from drinking too much, his taste for revelry somewhat dampened by what he'd overheard. A few hours later, once the people of Stern Hope had grown tired of celebration and longed for sleep, he approached Lamark and brought it up. His old CO's expression changed at the mention of this man Lars, brow furrowing and the smile that'd been present for the last few hours disappearing instantly.

"Ah, a true shame, that. Lars used to tend a small herd up in the hills. He was one of the first to see the lights and he was never the same after that. A few days later...well, you heard what happened. Some of the people say the Emperor's Peace was too good for him, but they didn't talk to him. Something got into his head and made him see things all wrong. It's part of the reason you and your fellows are out here now."

(Crisis has spent 2 thrones. Mithras spent 4, Lamark paying his way to an extent. Mikolas, meanwhile, will wake up to find himself 42 thrones down and wondering exactly how he spent so much.)

---

Aristarchus gathered the acolytes in his room the next morning, the only one looking slightly worse for wear being Mikolas. The seer, however, looked worn out despite having retired to bed before all of them. After the initial pleasantries, and having read the note Crisis had handed him upon entering the room, he addressed them as a whole.

"We have some information about the phenomena in this region now, thanks to Crisis. Dancing lights have been appearing in the hills nearby, though the population is divided on their interpretation of such things. Did anyone else uncover any other details last night?"

"Just some tale about an old woman seeing things." said Xerxes, an incredulous look on his face. "Might be worth looking into, but from what people were saying she's a crazy one."

Aristarchus nodded as he looked towards the others.

[Christian]

Mithras nodded slowly as Lamark explained the story behind Lars. At the mention of the lights parts of his brain was beginning to puzzle together the reason they were here... Yet more witchcraft... or something in that fashion.

"Have you gotten anything usef... eh, has he said anything after you confined him?" he picked out a battered pack of cigarettes, fished one out and lit it thoughtfully, "I assume we'll be briefed more formally on all of this later on?"

[Capntastic]

"Let's get to it, then. I think I'm ready for another day on the trail." Mik yawned, rubbing his eyes.

[Jak Snide]

(The next morning has come already, Chris, but easily handled)

A flashback to the night previous...

"Nothing that shed light on his madness, no. He' withdrawn into his own mind, muttering nonsense. Not an uncommon sight us who've seen Tranch. It's why I had Brother Severus grant him release rather than make a spectacle of hanging him. He'll atone for his sin at the Emperor's feet. The Abbot should be able to tell you more of such happening on the morrow."

Mithras headed upstairs shortly after the conversation ended, his mind dwelling on what he had learned, trying to forget about the unwashed masses of Tranch. They'd been an entirely different horror. Devout and Emperor-fearing citizens reduced to scavengers by decades of war, their eyes telling tales of their hollow existence.

---

Back in Aristarchus' Room...

The seer nodded to Mikolas. "We shall be meeting with Abbot Skae at the Priory shortly enough. I would take this time to gather what equipment you may require for the day's investigations."

(Unless anyone else wishes to volunteer more information I'll be moving things along to the meeting tomorrow.)

[Kelne]

Cryvus had little to add to the discussion, confining himself to a nod. Aristachus knew of his suspicions about the birds already, and he had no fresh evidence to add to his case. Time would tell.

[Jak Snide]

Aristarchus dismissed the acolytes, commanding them to meet him downstairs after they had made the necessary preparations. Once their gear was gathered they met the seer downstairs and made their way out of the inn and South across the road, the majestic cathedral now fully visible in the morning light.

The Priory stood in stark contrast to the Crying Clota, being a sturdy prefabricated building strongly resembling an Imperial bunker. Lamark was waiting outside for them, surprisingly fresh-faced after a night of heavy drinking, greeting them as before with a smile and a strong voice before ushering them inside. It was sparsely decorated save for the walls, which were adorned with images and icons of the Cult of the God-Emperor. The ground floor seemed to serve as a common area with a few adjoining rooms. A lectern stood in corner and the rest of the space was furnished with numerous rather crudely constructed pews and benches. A tough looking old man leaning on a staff and a tall monk, both clad in garments of the faith, waited for them, the former greeting them with a polite smile before speaking.

"Good morning, I am Prelate Orland Skae. I have the honour to be Missionary-Abbot of Stern Hope. Good Brother Lamark greeted you last night in my stead, and this tall and dangerous-looking fellow you may remember from the gate is Brother Severus, our Intercessor here." Severus gave them a slow nod and folded his arms, the sleeves of his robes receding enough to expose the elegant tribal tatoos that covered them. "My apologies for not meeting you when you arrived but my duties kept me from it. Thank you all for coming to us in our hour of need. When I first issued my request for assistance I could not have hoped for more attention."

"Let me first tell you of ourselves and our place here, by way of context. I know what you must all be thinking - how did this worn out old man talk the Ecclesiarchy into building such a magnificent cathedral on this forsaken rock? It wasn't difficult, really. In another life, ages ago, I was of a noble family and not without a few connections. I let my family know that an old man's memory is far more apt to slip when he has nothing to occupy his time. That, coupled with the wonderful story of a "lifetime of service," and working for many hours with the locals, has given birth to this place. "The Throne helps those who plan well," as the saying goes, and thanks to the diligent toil and faith of the good people of our congregation we have brought forth a miracle in the barren land, and not one I will see endangered." His expression grew severe as he continued.

"In recent times we have been plagued by signs and portents, visions and phantoms that may indicate that some foul evil has come to my congregation. There have also been disappearances, deaths and other portents. I am a priest of the Imperial faith and I have seen much in my years and I do not take such things lightly, and so I called on those who you serve to aid us. I ask you, I implore you, get to the bottom of this! If it is nothing, so much the better. But if there truly is....a moral threat....find it, destroy it, purge it! Tomorrow on the feast of Saint Drusus we shall consecrate our cathedral to his glory. Nothing must stop that, nothing. You will have our full support." The abbot took a moment to compose himself before speaking again, letting his zeal subside.

"Now, I imagine you have some questions?"

[Christian]

As the silence grew, Mithras finally cleared his throat slightly, bowing his head in respect to the Abbot.

"I have been told a man, Lars, came into contact with one of these... signs" the soldier seemed unsure at how much to reveal (not that there was much to, anyway), "I have been told the man has been given his peace, but is there anything you can tell us about him... perhaps we can be shown where he lived, or where he met this light."

[Jak Snide]

The Abbot begun nodding as soon as the man's name was mentioned, continuing to do so as he listened.

"He bore witness to these...lights, as you say, up in the foothills. They are visible from here, as are the phenomena. Lars was far closer when he encountered them and, as you know, drove him quite mad, though we only came to realise this fact once it was too late for poor Lucine. Brother Severus did not discover anything out of place in their home, though you are welcome to make your own appraisal if you so wish. Brother Lamark will guide you up into the foothills should you wish to investigate them. I had forbidden anyone from venturing up there after several bodies were discovered. Their bones were picked clean and, judging from the equipment Brother Severus found, they had been bandits. They could have met their demise through via a mundane cause, something which is especially true here on Iocanthos, but their discovery unsettled me."

[NamagomiMk0]

Crisis pondered the situation a bit from behind his gas mask, before taking writing tool to paper, scratching something in the paper before showing it to the Abbot, head lowered as well.

'If I may ask, as precisely as possible to your knowledge, when and where were these occurrences first noticed and reported?'

[Jak Snide]

Abbot Skae looked at Crisis curiously as he wrote, Xerxes interjecting with an explanation of "He's mute." before the marksman handed the note over.

"It started some four months ago, as the Cathedral was nearing completion. Some of our livestock fell ill at first. This is not uncommon, but the number that died was shocking. Then the disappearances started. Those out in the hills sometimes failed to return and, once the lights started, those that did bore troubled minds. Lars was the first sign that something was truly wrong. After I sent word to your superiors we begun to experience unholy phantom noises emanating from outside of the walls. Strange hammering, insane laughter and wings beating when there was no bird in the sky. The bandits were discovered two months ago."

[Capntastic]

Mik stayed quiet for fear of interupting the Abbot as information was given. He could let the words percolate in his mind and figure it out on his own time. For now, he was just waiting for the word to move out.

[Kelne]

Cryvus nodded thoughtfully. On the one hand, whatever was at work out there had had months to consolidate itself. On the other hand, the abbot had done his best to avoid giving it fresh victims.

"Are the phenomena confined to the hours of darkness, or do they occur in daylight as well?" he asked.

[Jak Snide]

"They were bound to the darkness of the night to begin with, but as their occurrences became more frequent they began to plague our days as well. We heard a terrible hammering from the hills last eve, before you arrived."

"It seems to me," said Aristarchus, the seer leaning on his staff for support, "that these hills would be the logical place to begin our investigation." Xerxes nodded in agreement.

[Christian]

Mithras had remained silent for some time during the exchange of words, but as things seemed to settle slightly he piked up again,

"Perhaps it would be wise to keep quiet about who we are and what we do here... Although we may have already exposed ourselves as servants of the Inquisition..." he paused slightly, "we should be careful to reveal what we discover, where we perform our investigation and who we talk too. We cannot rule out that whatever wicked forces are at work here have infiltrated the settlement itself."

[Jak Snide]

Brother Severus' gave Mithras a stare of disdain at his suggestion, but the Abbot Skae nodded his head severely.

"Your affiliation is already known, yes, but you are wise in wishing to conceal your findings. A suspicious mind is a healthy mind, after all. I am loathe to contemplate that one of my flock would have become an accomplice to whatever vile force is at work, but I would be a fool to discount the possibility of such after months of these occurrences." Severus remained tense, and Mithras couldn't help but think he'd offended the man in some way. A silence hung in the air for a few seconds before Aristarchus punctured it.

"We should begin our investigations of the hills soon. Unless, of course, any of you would suggest a different course of action." The seer let the question hung in the air. Each acolyte knew that, despite the nature and time frame of their task, their superior intended on using it to test them.

(I'll be moving things on tomorrow. If nobody can think of another area that would be worth investigating then Arisatchus will command them up into the foothills where the phenomena have been occurring.)

[NamagomiMk0]

Crisis pondered behind the gas mask for a few seconds, before writing, stopping, and writing again. His motions seemed as if he was deliberating something, before continuing writing.

...after half a minute more, he decided it finished, and held it out for Skae to read;

'Two things are making me consider an alternative: the beginning of the events, and the issues of time. Given the strange coincidence of the beginning of the events with the near-completion of the Cathedral, I suspect it may not be coincidental. Additionally, the Cathedral's area is likely smaller than the hills. It would be more prudent to search the smaller area first, before the larger, for the sake of time.'

[Jak Snide]

Skae's expression grew darker as he read Crisis' words, the assassin having presented the Abbot with what was likely a truly horrific scenario in the old man's mind.

"I had thought that the forces we seek to combat arose in defiance of our edifice to the Glory of the Golden Throne." Skae fell silent for a moment and, when his voice returned, it trembled with a barely contained fury. "If they have, in fact, taken root within our Cathedral then they must be uncovered and purged without delay. The Feast of Saint Drusus must not, will not be obstructed or...tainted."

His words hung in the air for a moment, their righteous fury demanding their acknowledgement. A lone lay brother stood frozen in a doorway to one of the side rooms, transfixed in terror until a scowl from Brother Serevus sent him scarpering. When the Abbot Skae spoke again his voice was hushed but by no means lacking the force it held moments before.

"Go see to the Cathedral immediately. Brother Lamark will take you there."

Mithras' old CO nodded gravely and beckoned the acolytes and their superior after him, leaving the Abbot to his fury.

---

It took a scant few minutes to reach the cathedral, the Priory lying at the base of the hill it was built atop. It loomed over them as they made the ascent, the black quartz facings glistening in the morning light. The four aquila stood erect and proud atop each of the four pillars that encircled the vast dome, their twin heads casting their gaze across the settlement. Lamark was unusually silent, the prospect of what might lurk within their icon of faith deeply disturbing the man. Mithras had never seen him like this before.

They stood before the great double-doors of the cathedral. The priest produced a large key from within the recesses of his robe and inserted it into the lock, muttering a prayer in high gothic as he did so. He bowed his head, made the sign of the aquila with one hand and pushed open the door.

The interior of the cathedral was a mixture of the ornate and the austere, a cool, shadowy place no doubt designed to be a refuge from Iocanthos' harsh days. An alter sat upon a raised dias at the center of the vast chamber thay lay before them, flanked on three sides by pews which were in turn were encircled by four large support pillars and numerous secondary ones. As the acolytes stepped into the dimly lit cathedral they found their eyes drawn up to the domed ceiling above them and found a sight that took their breath away.

The inside of the dome was dominated by a massive mural, it's workmanship astounding and seemingly beyond what a rag-tag group such as the people of Stern Hope should have been capable of. At it's center was a striking figure which all save Mikolas recognised as Saint Drusus, standing triumphant with a short sword in one raised hand and a golden aquila in the other. A shadowy half-suggested figure lay at his feet, crushed and defeated. The scene was framed and surrounded by intricately engraved patterns of flowers and wheeling birds, both a far cry from any of the flora or fauna they had encountered on Iocanthos thus far.

Lamark fell to one knee and bowed his head in reverence, while Aristarchus splayed his hands across his chest, forming the twin-headed aquila of the Imperial faith. Even Xerxes was humbled, bowing his head and muttering a prayer to the great saint.

[Christian]

Mithras was impressed with the Cathedral, no doubt. It dwarfed all of them, and although he was no stranger to urban enviroments (he had seen buildings far bigger, although generally not as whole), the sheer majesty of this place of worship, coupled with it being the by far tallest building in the vicinity.

As they entered Mithras too, caught in the moment (although perhaps not to the same extent as Lamark), bowed his head in prayer.