Dark Heresy - Wisdom is the beginning of fear.

[Kelne]

Cryvus hauled himself wearily to his feet. He felt... Old. Old and tired. But there was no time for rest. Such as that thing could not be confined to a single corrupted symbol. It was old, powerful, and it would surely want them all dead. Only through the Emperor's grace would they triumph, and the road would be hard all the same.

"There will be others," he said, "Our enemy's shadow stretches long and his servants are many."

[NamagomiMk0]

Crisis let out a silent sigh of relief as both, he killed two birds with one bullet, and the events ended, though seemingly to him, not due to his own efforts (though he noted it helped the wind subside...)

Noting Xerxes' outburst, he reslung his rifle, before taking out his writing kit and posing the response to him and Lamark:

'I feel that our enemy is indeed using these animals as a way to remotely affect us with its power. I could consider them a mix of a "pict-sender" and a vox-sender for its...anomalies, so to say. That is, they're used to locate us and direct this power from afar...though I am a bit curious as to how the lava got there or the birds suddenly dropped dead. I'd have to ask the other three on what they did from their point.'

[Capntastic]

Mik grumbled to himself fast and fierce, checking himself for any particularly bloody grime to wipe off, or anything else amiss.

"Well, that was all sorts of wrong! We gonna keep around much longer or ought I get to patrolling for....wind 'n stuff?"

[Jak Snide]

Xerxes read Crisis' note as Lamark jogged over to the others, the man's brow slick with sweat.

"Nothin' gets to you, does it boy?" the arbitrator muttered, standing and cradling his weapon. "We best get over there." he said, waiting a moment for Crisis to ready himself before following after Lamark.

Mikolas inspected himself and found that he was unharmed. An errant feather or two clung to him, but after the bloodying he'd received at the claws of the hexalid a few bird-bits weren't about to get to him. The fowl that Mithras applied his boot to bounced over the nearby edge and down the slope, rapidly picking up speed until it impacted suddenly against a rocky outcrop. It was most assuredly dead.

Lamark reached the trio by the crater and looked at Cryvus warily, noting how weary the old man now looked.

"What in Drusus' name happened?" he asked and, for the first time, Mithras could detect a hint of fear leaking into his old CO's voice.

[Christian]

Mithras watched after the quickly descending bird, a deep frown on his face as he wiped his brow with the sleeve of his thick combat-jacket, dust from the intense wind, not to mention the quick but violent volcanic activity, having settled all over his body.

Then he turned his attention to Cryvus, realizing that the old man seemed weary, perhaps wounded. He was about to help him up when he heard Lamark's question and he froze. True, the two had shared the hellish nightmare of Tranch together, but since then Mits had seen some things Lamark hadn't... but he didn't consider himself familiar enough with these dark powers to answer, he was just a novice in this group.

He offered a hand to the now risen Cryvus, the frown remaining on his dusted face, "There must be some way we can prepare for these... events if they happen again. What good are we if we can only walk forward and find ourselves overwhelmed at every turn our enemy decides to attack us?" he took off his helmet, his salt and peppar hair rustled but cleaner-looking than the rest of him. "At the very least we must consider these birds signs of interference. Si... Lamark, are these fowls typically found around here? Is there anything about their behaviour that is odd?"

[Kelne]

Cryvus shook his head, "The sigils are the key," he said, "the birds may serve its will, but the sigils allow it to manifest. We need to report what we have discovered and gather more information. If people know of their locations, we will be able to check each in turn, rather than searching at random."

[Christian]

Mithras rubbed his stubbled chin, nodding to the older man. He'd calmed down slightly, his posture showing it (as his eyes were, as always, swivelling slightly in their sockets, his head twisting and turning slightly and constantly, as if he'd be expecting another attack at any second), but his voice still seemed disturbed as he replied:

"It is a good idea to head back to the settlement, but perhaps..." he turned to Lamark, "Are these... sigils common around the area?" he indicated the place where up until just a few moments ago the sigil had been and where now rapidly cooling lava was. "Have you seen anything like it before? Or do you know anyone who's been talking about it?"

[NamagomiMk0]

Crisis, still with his gas-mask on, wrote another note, attempting to clarify an issue--before showing Cryvus.

'Sigils? I did not see such from my vantage point. What should I look for when looking for them?'

[Jak Snide]

Lamark shook his head, eyes drifting towards the crater that marked the spot where the rock had bled.

"No, nor have I heard any talk of it."

"Sigils?" Xerxes interjected. "Like that thing on the outcrop you scouted on the way to Stern Hope? A skull in a bird's talons, that's what you said, didn't you?" he said as he glanced between Mithras and Cryvus.

[Christian]

Mithras nodded slowly, cold fear trickling down his back. How long had this presence known of them? How many of these damned sigils were there? And, worse still, what if it didn't need them to spot the group? The birds were probably plenty in itself...

"Yes... we saw something like that..." he shifted uncomfortably, "I don't like the look of this." he gave the others a look as he reached down to a pocket in his heavy trousers, digging out a packet of cigarettes, battered and bruised beyond saving from the recent tumbling. He rummaged around in the pack and dug out a half-bent cig, lighting it and breathing in the blueish gray smoke.

"I'm not against going back, but first we should make sure we have covered this area thoroughly. There are two possible reasons for the encounter with that... thing, and the storm we just had." He blew out some smoke,

"As far as I can think of anyway. Either we're getting too close for comfort and we were underestimated... or whatever we're after is using our isolation out here to end what it perceives as a potential threat. Far away from any witnesses..." he gave a dry chuckle, "It's how we used to deal with poking mutants back at Tranch, anyway." He shrugged, a strained motion, eyes over at Lamark "These are of course speculations... what do you think?"

[Kelne]

"Something like that indeed," Cryvus said, "But twisted subtly, with the talons crushing the skull." He shivers somewhat at the memory of it, "The true sigil is a symbol of Saint Drusus, this other... Something else. But there is a connection there, between the saint and our foe, of that I am certain."

"If I knew where we might strike to truly threaten our enemy, I would make the attack now. But I fear this is but the merest hint of its strength, focused upon us at the earliest opportunity. Or perhaps not. The attack did not come until after I encountered the sigil."

"Somebody knows something," he mutters, "Somebody always knows something, though their mind may crack from it."

[Capntastic]

"So that think you all saw back on the road is some sort'a marker for a trap, or tribe mark or somethin'?"

He scratched his beard, rubbing some of the flaking blood from it.

"We'll have to clean that up, then."

[NamagomiMk0]

'Right. Everyone, stay sharp, and look for the corrupted symbols.' Crisis responds--in writing, of course--to his fellow now-nicely-tanned Voidborn.

...thankfully for Crisis, he has his gas mask to keep his complexion nice and grey.

[Jak Snide]

The rest of the day passed slowly, the tension drawing out each hour the acolytes spent up in the hills. They hadn't come across any further sigils when Lamark signalled for them to head back to the settlement; a mixed blessing to be sure. The skies were clear of avian watchers however, the wind blowing gently across the hills, free from both the carrion stench of the lowlands and the sickly sweet smell which had heralded the unnatural.

All six of them reached Stern Hope just after the sun had dipped below the horizon. Lamark had been right to bring them back when he did: the Iocanthos night was moonless and pitch black, the few fires that burned within the walls of the settlement being barely enough to navigate back to the Crying Clotta by. The cleric excused himself after he'd guided them there, citing a need to report their discoveries to the Abbot Skae and Brother Severus, the he did invite Crisis and Mikolas to visit the Priory to have their wounds treated before he left.

A single caw drew their eyes upwards as the priest moved off, though darkness of the night concealed the beak that it had issued from. The beating of wings could be heard over the crackle of drum-fire, far off and growing increasingly distant until they couldn't make it out any more.

(The hour is reasonably late and you find yourselves in front of the Crying Clotta. You may elect to head to bed, try and track down Aristarchus and give him a report or anything else that comes to mind. Here's the map of Stern Hope for your convenience.)

[NamagomiMk0]

Crisis nodded in response to Lamark. While they hadn't had to deal with anything else that day, and he was at least in stable condition...he knew he couldn't take another assault like that, and the pain was both ever-present and constantly nagging at him to stop moving. The one thing he would not do under most conditions, that...


And so, he followed the cleric, hoping to get some medical help at the Priory. He deserved that much for putting that damned Hexalid or whatever down...

[Christian]

Mithras had, but for a few cuts and scrapes come out of the day unharmed, and being a soldier he had little trouble prioritizing his wishes. The cawing of the bird above them had brought his adrenaline rushing, but as it abated he felt even more tired than he had when they had reached Stern Hope. He watched Crisis move to take care of his wounds, Mikolas most likely choosing to do the same, so he himself decided that for the evening, he would rest as much as he could.

Thus, he went to bed.

[Kelne]

Cryvus, being the conscientious type, opted to fill Aristachus in on their findings immediately, rather than waiting until morning. With luck, their superior might have some insight, but at the very least, he would be sharing out his worries.

[Capntastic]

Mik went to go get his face fixed up a bit, snag some dinner, and find a place to sleep until he was needed. He wasn't in the mood to ponder these mysterious happenings. It didn't seem like his place, anyways.

[Jak Snide]

Crisis and Mikolas followed Lamark to the Priory. The bearded man went about rousing one of the lesser monks and a lay-sister to tend to their wounds. The former treated their injuries, the latter standing against the wall holding a small incense burner and muttering benedictions and invoking the name of Saint Uthur the Cataplast alongside that of Saint Drusus. Their wounds were cleansed and anointed with healing salve, Crisis' receiving additional treatment as his abdomen was bandaged. The monk could do little more for Mikolas' face, save telling him to try and keep it clean.

(The monk passes his medicae test on Crisis, healing 3 wounds. He fails while treating Mikolas, however. Both will recover an additional wound after a night's rest, however.)

---

Cryvus knocked on Aristarchus' door a few moments after Mithras retired to his own room, both of them having left Xerxes downstairs with the crowd of drinkers. He heard the muffled thud of the guardsman toppling into bed a moment before the seer called out for him to enter.

It was clear that his superior had not rested well. His bed was in disarray, the sheets creased and half on the floor. He sat at his desk, a data-slate lying nearby along with a number of hand-written notes. His set of finely crafted tarot cards lay spread across the table, the seer placing one down gently and turning to Cryvus with a faint smile and dark bags under his eyes.

"Come in, Cryvus," he said wearily, "and tell me of any progress you have made."

[Capntastic]

Mik decided that the best way to deal with the injury on his own was to get a decent meal and plenty of rest. He'd avoid alcohol, tonight, not wanting a repeat of...whatever happened before.

[Kelne]

"You recall the symbol of Saint Drusus we encountered yesterday?" Cryvus asked without preamble, "We found another, corrupted one today. The talons were crushing the skull. It acted as a focus for our enemy, causing howling winds and controlled creatures to come at us."

"I was able to destroy the sigil, thus shattering our enemy's hold, but we surely face far worse than any mere witch."

[Jak Snide]

Mikolas was pleased to discover that meals came as part of board. He saved no time ordering himself a hearty portion which he ate alone. The company he'd shared last night hadn't shown itself again, those still drinking within the Crying Clotta giving the man some space. He heard snatches of conversation as he slurped on his soup; their burning of Lars' tent was still fresh in the minds of the people, though it didn't seem to have dampened their mood. If anything, a visible display of vigilance had reassured the inhabitants of Stern Hope that nothing would threaten the coming consecration.

---

Aristarchus gestured Cryvus over to his desk, nodding in acknowledgement of the man's report. As he drew close the seer gestured to three of the cards that lay before him. One depicted a wild face, it's eyes burning with power. The next was of a figure, though he couldn't make out any details beyond that, the high technology of the card constantly altering the image in subtle ways. The last showed two men locked in mortal combat, blades crossed.

"You did battle with the enemy and emerged victorious, though his exact nature remains a mystery to us. The Enigma featured prominently in my readings this day, as did The Saint. Your report gives substance and meaning to what the Emperor's Tarot had told me. He is with us, of that I have no doubt, and further readings will help guide our hand."

He turned back to his cards, turning The Psyker over in his hand as he admired the exquisite workmanship.

"What course would you suggest, though?" he asked, not taking his eyes from the deck.

[Kelne]

Cryvus sighed, "The incidents in the hills have been a sideshow and a testing of strength," he said, "The cathedral is the true target. We have little enough time, and must determine whether there are other corrupted symbols through which our enemy may strike. Worse yet, it may have followers. We must be vigilant and resolute."

[Jak Snide]

"Wise words, sanctionate. The consecration is our greatest priority. Once the Cathedral has been blessed by the hand of Drusus we can set ourselves to hunting down whatever dark force plagues us with the Saint himself at our back. Until then our divine duty is to stand guard against whatever seeks to compromise the ceremony."

The seer gave Cryvus a tired smile. "That said, I do believe a good night of recuperation is in order so we might face the trials ahead with a sound mind."

The two of them exchanged pleasantries before the acolyte left Aristarchus' room, returning to his own quarters for a night of slumber.

(More to come later this evening)

[NamagomiMk0]

Crisis took the opportunity for downtime--for the night--to take a rest. He once again would go to the inn, avoiding any drinks. While alcohol could kill the pain, he was unsure as to how much he could afford, and there was little benefit he could consider to drinking the substance tonight, aside from some additional, albeit slight, anesthesia.

He would have to thank the Priory again for their assistance in the future.



But now, he intended to eat lightly, hopefully listening in on the latest gossip...if anything, he could potentially be able to get some more hints.


Maybe.

[Jak Snide]

Crisis heard little of note as he slowly consumed his stew. His stomach still stung from the injury, making eating a painful necessity. The most prominent topic of conversation seemed to be their burning of Lars' tent earlier in the day, the act seeming to have reassured the people of Stern Hope that they were being protected from whatever malevolent force plagued them.

Both he and Mikolas eventually retired for the night, Xerxes having headed upstairs a few minutes earlier, and collapsed into their respective beds.

---

When the acolytes awoke the following morning it was a red dawn that greeted them. The sun hung low in the sky, bathing the land in vermilion glow. The Ashleen townsfolk were already awake and about their daily tasks, and as such the Crying Clotta was fully staffed when breakfast was served. Aristarchus did not join them for the meal and if anyone thought to check on him they did not get the chance too. They'd barely begun to tuck into the fried meat and broth available when an ululating cries began to echo throughout the settlement. The staff stopped what they were doing and hurried outside, one of them having the decency to announce that "Kos'ke has arrived!"

(Some of you have received PMs.)

[Capntastic]

Mik turned to the door, trying to get a glimpse of what was afoot.
"This ought'a be somethin'!" he said, before cramming some food into his mouth in a hurry.

[Christian]

Mithras had gotten up painfully early and when the others came into the Crying Clotta for breakfast, he was already there. Partly because he had been sleeping for longer than usual (and barely any nightmares at that), partly because of his training, the harrowed guardsman was up with the sun. Being used to the slop served in the Guard, Mits was salivating at the, to some, meager meal presented to them.

However, with the announced arrival of this 'Kos'ke', he found himself torn between filling his hungry stomach or trying to figure out who it was that could raise such a ruckus with just his arrival.

He fingered his laspistol for a few seconds, wondering whether this heralded the arrival of some local pest or particularly large and threatening animal, but the staff's reaction didn't seem to indicate this...


(OOC - Friend meat?)

[Jak Snide]

(Fried meat. Though I can say that Xerxes is nowhere to be found if you'd like.)

Crisis gingerly plucked his rifle from the table and followed after Mikolas and Mithras, Cryvus joining them a moment later. Xerxes came last, finishing off a strip of fried meat as he ran a finger across the scar on his face.

The acolytes follow the inn staff outside and find that small crowds of Stern Hope's people have lined the road leading from the West Gate to the Cathedral. It doesn't take them long to spot the cause of the commotion. Eight mounted men ride down the road, each seated upon a massive beast. The creatures are lean and long-tailed bipeds, each three times the size of a man, who growl and bark as they lope along. Their riders keeping them under control are heavily-built and clad in dusky hide longcoats and decked with bandoliers of ammunition for the guns mounted on the saddles in front of them. A few carry heavy-bladed spears adorned with fetishes that rattled in the wind. The lead rider, identified as Kos'ke by a gawping woman, was a brute of a man and large enough to rival Mikolas. The two were not entirely dissimilar in appearance, Kos'ke sporting a full black beard and a leather cross-belt festooned with pistols. He waved to the crowd as he rode towards, occasionally calling out in what must be the local tongue.

As the retinue drew closer they could make out that the rider in the midst of the pack was quite different from the others. A veiled woman sat in the saddle, clad in flowing wrappings of tattered black and grey cloth streaked with red ribbons. A murmur passed through the Ashleen around them as the group passed, the staff bowing their head or making gestures of reverence to the woman. The bartender whispers "Esha Raine" as he diverts his eyes from her and inclines his head respectfully.

This woman broke off from the pack as they neared the Cathedral, heading South and away from them towards the priory. The rest heading North , following the road around the hill the and straight past the Crying Clotta. Kos'ke looked down on the acolytes as he rode by, the presence of a weapon drawing his attention. He favoured them with a savage smile before he moved past them, presumably heading towards the Ashleen warrior camp to the East of the Cathedral.

The sound of footfalls from behind drew their attention. Aristarchus had emerged from the Clotta in a half-run, dark circles under his eyes and looking even more haggard than before. Despite this he wore an eager expression, holding up a hand to halt any questions as he spoke rapidly.

"The Emperor protects, but His cards can be a harsh master. Be careful today, the High Priest was in ascendant, which I would normally interpret as a blessing for the day's occasion but the Lost Child and the Enigma were present as well. Holy ceremony or not, be on your guard today. Abbot-Missionary Skae has invited us all to the morning plainsong rites that begin today's ceremonies in an hour's time. I would attend myself, but I fear the night's divinations have left me in dire need of rest and I would not wish to compromise my attendance of the consecration itself. I'd like a bit more rest, but I think it wise for you all to attend as a show of our earnestness. Assure the good Abbot that I will be present for the great service at dusk."

The seer had lost none of his enthusiasm and, despite his obvious weariness, he lingered a moment longer to answer any questions the acolytes might have for him.

[Christian]

(Sorry, completely misread that. ;) )

Mithras blinked at the light outside, shielding his eye with his left hand, his right holding the strap of his backpack over his shoulder. After the time he spent in Tranch, he'd never let go of the thing... well, he occasionally did, but after what happened on the freighter... he was not going to take any chances.

Outside the commotion brought his attention and he folded his arms at the sight of the riders. The creatures were impressive and the men looked hardened, and he found himself smiling back at the bearded leader. Mits was not a warrior like Mikolas, he was a soldier who merely did what he was told...

The soldier was musing, and chuckled as he realized it himself, but before he could do anything else Aristarchus left the Clotta. He gave the man a swivelling look, surprised by his rushed and worn look.

[Capntastic]

Mik nodded at the grave portent.

"We'll keep an eye out."

He then beseeched the wise one's wisdom!

"What're those things? Are they tough to break in? And what about the fellas ridin' 'em?"

[Jak Snide]

Aristarchus peered after Kos'ke and his riders, taking a moment to observe them before replying.

"That would be Kos'ke, a local chieftain and a distant relative of Warlord Skull. His people inhabit the hills surrounding Stern Hope and he has associated himself with the settlement on the behest of the woman in their midst. Esha Raine is an elder to many of the Ashleen clans and a keeper of oral tradition. Greatly respected, and justly so. She has done a great deal in bringing the native populace in line with the Imperial Cult and is a close ally of Abbot Skae. The beasts they ride are called Dustdogs, and they have been reared by the Ashleen for time immemorial. It's a testament to the harsh nature of this world that this has done little to dull their vicious nature."

[Kelne]

Cryvus frowned. Certainly, the consecration would draw in people from all around, but the presence of these people 'from the hills surrounding Stern Hope' left him rather suspicious. It was unlike the servants of the Ruinous Powers to walk openly through the front gate, and yet Cryvus could not help but think that they would surely achieve surprise by doing so.

These people bore watching.

[Jak Snide]

Cryvus watched the riders disappear out of sight, chatting among themselves now that they had passed through the crowds. Aristarchus excuses himself, retreating back inside and up the stairs to his room. The Ashleen filter off a moment later, the spectacle over. Only a couple return to their work inside the Crying Clotta; the others head off in various directions, presumably to prepare for the plainsong rites in an hour's time.

(The acolytes are now have an hour free before the Plainsong ceremony starts. Aristarchus is expecting them to attend to compensate for his absence, though it probably isn't impossible to avoid the ceremony should you so choose. That said, unless stated otherwise, I'll assume people will be preparing for the ceremony and attending.)

[Jak Snide]

The call to mass came when the Cathedral doors swung open and organ music filtered out into the morning air. Most of Stern Hope's people set aside their work and made their way towards the hill, those posted as watchmen on the wall being the primary exception, and soon the path up to the imposing structure was clogged with human traffic. As each acolyte made their way through the crowd the Cathedral shone darkly in the morning sun, the black stone used in it's construction glimmering. People were obviously wearing their best attire for the occasion, though the winds were doing their best to dirty them with the ever-present dust that swept about town.

The abbot himself and two minor clerics greeted them as they reached the doors, all wearing white chasubles over their robes. Skae asks after Aristarchus and nods sagely once his absence is explained to him. "Regrettable," he says, "but understandable." He then leads them to a place of honor to the right of the alter, smiling proudly as the people marvel at the interior of the Cathedral.

After a time the abbot departs, returning leading a veiled woman escorted by the still heavily armed Kos'ke and his men to a place opposite the acolytes. The warriors look very uncomfortable, though their leader notes Mikolas' appearance and smiles wryly. At the last moment before the doors shut Aristarchus slips inside and slides quickly over to seat himself besides the acolytes, barely having time to flash them an enthusiastic grin before the organ music swells and the ceremony begins, the people raising their voices and joining them in hymns.

At the height of the plainsong ceremony Abbot Skae, every inch the commanding servant of the God-Emperor, moves to the alter flanked by Brother Lamark and Severus, both who hold aloft a burning brazier. The music falls silent and the last hymn ends as the abbot begins his sermon.

"On this day, brothers and sisters, the God-Emperor of Humanity casts His eye on this world so distant from His Golden Throne. On this day, He acknowledges your great faith and blesses our endeavours. I know you have long fought the darkness, thinking to see no dawn. Behold!" he shouted, gesturing upwards and outwards with both arms. "It is upon you at last, and today we live in history forever and we shall be witness to a great miracle!"

The abbot pauses to let his words sink in, smiling broadly. Then the sound of alarm bells ringing penetrate the cathedral doors, followed moments later by a muffled explosion, the chatter of gunfire and the zip-crack of las fire. Skae looks about in surprise, but his gaze swiftly hardens. He turns to the acolytes, pronouncing loudly, "For blood is the sacrament of the Imperium."

---

The people of Stern Hope did not panic, though shocked words quickly echoed about the Cathedral. Kos'ke, bellowing "ASIDE!" forces his way through the crowd, his men with him and swiftly opens a corridor between the worshippers. Aristarchus follows after them, crying for the acolytes to follow.

"Whoever is out there has interrupted the services of a holy feast day in one of the Emperor's cathedrals! They're heretics," he adds darkly, "and we know what to do with heretics."

The placement of the Cathedral gives the acolytes a good picture of Stern Hope and what has occurred. A large smoke-belching vehicle with a wide bladed iron plough has driven into the front of the settlement, smashing them aside and jamming itself there in the process. At least two-score of dishevelled looking warriors pour forth into town, shooting and hacking at anything that moves. A number of the tents are already on fire, a few of the warriors carrying flaming torches in one hand.

Kos'ke and his men are already running down toward the battle, seemingly intent on intercepting the main thrust of the attack. They acolytes, pausing for a moment, spot two additional threats: a small group of the attacks are making their way to the South of the Cathedral, seemingly intent upon the generatoria and the workshops there. A second splinter group has also formed, heading into the Northern tents, hacking and slashing at them as quickly they can. The few within flee in their wake, but ahead stands a single Ashleen woman desperately trying to control a dozen screaming and shocked children. Scattered pockets of armed militia hold out against each of these threats, but they are each outnumbered.

(The acolytes are faced with a choice: do they aide Kos'ke in pushing back the main thrust of the assault, defend the generators and workshops or try to intervene on the behalf of the distressed children? You are free to split up as you wish, of course. Here is a map to show the positions of each threat and that of the acolytes. Declare your course of action.)

[Christian]

((God damn forum ate my post half-way, stupid slippery fingers))

Mithras had felt a strange unpleasantness in his stomach all morning, a feeling that had only been alleviated by two things; the fact that nothing bad seemed to have happened to the settlement and the arrival of Kos'ke and his cadre. With a somewhat eased mind, the guardsman had made his way for the cathedral to hear the sermons, his weapons and gear brought with him. Ease of mind aside, he knew full well not to ever make the mistake of assuming the enemy would not use any opportunity to render them all dead.

As he settled down, he began to drift into something he had not experienced for a long while. Relaxation. He truly enjoyed the moments he got to spend at sermons like these; when he had been younger, on his homeplanet before the horrors of Tranch, he had relished the opportunity to meet old friends and relatives, to thank the Emperor for the peaceful life they had been given and to pray that those who had not been such bless would find some ease in their suffering. It had all seemed far away then, and in hindsight he wasn't sure he'd ever truly prayed to the Emperor. Not like how he did it on Tranch.

There, any moment of peace and quiet had been a luxury, a resource not to be wasted. Countless of prayers passed through his mind every day, thanking Him for having spared him from death for another day. There had been times when they had held actual sermons, and he had relished those too. Somehow, it had felt as if the walls of the place of the sermon, be it the bombed-out ruins of an actual church, or the make-shift tents that made up the mess-hall, were all but impenetrable through His glory. At those times, there had been so much darkness, any flicker of light had been a warming fire for him.

He watched in silence as the Abbot preached, taking in the words, absorbing every bit of it as he felt the purity of the God-Emperor wash over him and then...

The sound of klaxons made him jump, and a great fury came over him at this. The stomach of these fiends... He grabbed his lasgun and wnt towards the door, but at the sight of what was going on outside his soul felt torn in twain. That woman would be killed, and those children...

"Crisis, those men are headed to the generators, think you can pin'em for a while!?" he looked towards the sniper and the others, "Mik, Xerxes, think you can help over at the Priory? Cryvus and I'll see to aiding that woman!"

"If things get under control, move to help out elsewhere, keep in contact!"

It was clear that the guardsman had little interest to waste time, his eyes swivelling and looking at each of them, almost at the same time. Were no objections to rise, he would set off in the direction of the Crying Clotta...


((We had vox-communication, right?))

[Jak Snide]

(Each acolyte has a bulky, battered and functional hand-vox. The others have had theirs for a while, and Mithras would have been issued a similar one upon his assignment.)

[Capntastic]

Mikolas followed his instincts. He'd seen raids. He'd been at encampments and shanty towns hit by raids. He'd led raids. He then, it was safe to say, knew them. It was his instinct, then, to bolt towards the Clotta.

[Kelne]

On the one hand, Cryvus was unsurprised by this blatant attack on the settlement. On the other, it was no less enraging for all of that. Distraction or no, the threat must be met, and Cryvus nodded in agreement with Mithras' plan, muttering "They will rue the day," as he unslung his las-carbine and made for the tents, intent upon plugging the first marauder who wandered into his sights.

[NamagomiMk0]

Comparably, to Crisis, the sermons were something alien in one sense. He knew of them, and in very basic terms, what they were, but in the entire time on his home ship, he could never remember having attended one. He was too busy participating in much more important tasks--eliminating those the higher-ups had deemed as traitors, for one. As such, he did not know what in particular to expect; just that it was a particularly important event.

The assassin did not feel it a breach of protocol to have his armaments readied--several times already he had been informed that an attack was more than likely incoming to this ceremony at Stern Hope, for if anything were to attack to spite the Emperor, and more importantly, the Inquisition and its Acolytes, then now would be...


His vision quickly flashed back to times better forgotten when the alarm ripped through the air, but was not shocked or particularly angry at this. This is what their mission was for, after all. To fend off the attack.

And yet, he found himself infuriated, for his teammates, in his eyes, were once again doing it wrong. Mithras had the right idea of things--Xerxes' and the idiot's shotguns were better off used to fend off the numbers present in the frontal assault, and anyone done with one group should focus on another. But then he went off and wasted his own potential by trying to head off what was clearly the diversionary attack. And at the same time, Crisis lost what little respect he had gained for Mikolas over the mission as soon as he saw him head off to the distraction.

Gritting his teeth in anger behind the gas mask, the Voidborn placed his hopes in Xerxes having common sense, attempting to give an order through gestures (pointing if needing to) to aid in the fight against the central force. Kos'ke may have large animals and his men may have enough armaments for a small incursion, but they needed all the help they could get.

From his vantage point, Crisis sighted in on the group attacking the generators, ready to put his rifle to its normal duty...