Dark Heresy - Wisdom is the beginning of fear.

[Kelne]

While Crisis was still writing, Cryvus delivered his own report. He was by no means happy with the outcome, but nor did he believe that their actions had merited summary execution. In fact, he had the distinct impression that the Interrogator had been covering up some damnable deed of his own (or, more troubling, his master). Hence the swift death meted out to the civilians and the rush to judgement on those who could not be summarily executed.

"The cathedral at Stern Hope was built upon an ancient site of worship of the daemon known as the Crow Father," he said, "It is my belief that it worked through the abbot Skae to orchestrate its own foul rituals, culminating in what should have been the consecration and was instead very nearly the daemon's release into the material universe. I do not know how it corrupted Aristachus, but it was Skae who summoned him to Stern Hope, which suggests the daemon intended him for its host from the beginning. The rest of us were annoyances to be disposed of."

"We were not present for the initial incursion, having gone in search of knowledge we believed would aid us in combatting the threat." Cryvus paused, shaking his head at his foolishness in leaving Aristachus at the cathedral, "Xerxes remained behind to watch over Aristachus and lost his life fighting the daemon. We returned to find the townspeople bewitched, the daemon ensconced in the flesh of Skae and the ritual in progress. I was able to pierce the veil of lies surrounding Aristachus and convince him to end his life, interrupting the ritual and banishing the daemon."

[Jak Snide]

A scowl crossed the inquisitor's face at the first mention of the daemonic. She took Crisis' report when presented with it and began to read it as Cryvus concluded his own, her expression fading into a frown.

"I can see why Eicher was so quick to expunge all knowledge of the situation. When I got to Stern Hope the place was nothing but dust. Bombarded from orbit. Aristarchus was my man in this but from what you've said it was Skae at the heart of the blasphemy. He was put forward for this by Witch Finder Rykehuss, the man Eicher serves, and every part the zealot that his title suggests. My first guess is that he was trying to protect his master's reputation, though I'd dearly love to discover that he had less noble intentions." She finished reading and looked to Crisis.

"If there's anyone that'll be reprimanded for this fiasco it'll be Rykehuss or myself. You lot, by your own account, were as much the victim as Aristarchus was. That's what I'd like to tell myself, anyway." She shook her head. "How in damnation did this...thing, this "Crow Father" get its hooks into him? He was always a pious and intelligent man. He'd served me, and my master before me, for decades and he'd never faltered in that time. Or perhaps he had, and the seed of corruption hadn't blossomed until now."

[Capntastic]

"It tried to trip me up by gettin' in my head. It was right there, in the heat of the moment, though. If it was more subtle to him, whisperin' ideas into him slow over time... I dunno."

Mik shrugged, not knowing what he could or should say. But, something tugged at his heart, and he continued.

"So all those folk are dead?"

[Jak Snide]

"All dead. Eicher made sure of that. Nobody left to talk, not even bodies left for psychometry. I expect Xerxes shared their fate. He deserved a better funeral than that."

[Kelne]

Cryvus nodded, "There were signs," he said, "He mentioned bad dreams at first, then seemed... overconfident, certain that we would prevail. Even the tarot led him astray, predicting a great miracle to come." But there had been no miracles, only blood and pain, followed by a shattering of the very earth from high orbit.

Cryvus could not fault that last decision. Stern Hope should never have ocupied that site, and to leave the cathedral standing would have been madness. But given the choice, he would have seen the citizens safely away, and gathered what evidence he could before calling down the final barrage. To obliterate all traces, to bury evidence, to slay the innocent, simply to protect one's own standing...

Eicher had made at least one enemy today. His own treatment he could almost forgive, given cause. But not this. Nor could he have acted against his master's wishes. Cryvus had no intention of setting himself against an inquisitor, but nor would he regard Witch Finder Rykehuss as somebody beyond reproach by virtue of his station.

[Jak Snide]

"The Emperor's Tarot betrayed him?" She grimaced at the thought of such a thing. "We recovered a card along with your equipment. Quite a piece of work. I don't recall him ever having such a fine deck. I'll have it looked into. Anything else?"

[Christian]

Mithras coughed and then cleared his throat, mindful of his interrupting of the discussion. He spoke with some caution as he said: "Did... did Aristarchus not mention being related to this... St. Drusus?" he looked at the others for confirmation, "it may not be much, but perhaps the Crow Father wanted Aristarchus, the heir of Drusus, the man who imprisoned him so long ago...?" he shook his head, still groggy from medications, "perhaps that was what led to his downfall? When the Seer realized exactly what he was facing, he saw perhaps a way for himself to defeat the warpspawn once and for all... or Skae..." he paused, wincing, "...the abbott convinced him it was his own ancestor that was being born anew..."

[Jak Snide]

Mithras' words hung in the air for a while, the inquisitor's expression grim.

"Get some rest." she said at last. "We're bound for Lachesis. I'll expect a full report by the time we arrive."

Skane gave them a curt nod and left, her black mood all too apparent.

---

The Dromon Revanche was a far smaller vessel than the Brazen Sky, but what it lacked in size it made up for in speed. A scant few hundred meters in length, it was built for in-system interception and boarding actions. It had evidently been blessed with a warp drive some time after it had been sequestered by the Inquisition, the tingling sensation that washed over Crisis and Cryvus informing them that the vessel's gellar field had engaged and they'd once more breached the warp. Between the beating heart of the ship that was the plasma core and warp drive there was little room left for anything else, each room barely large enough to be fit for purpose and the corridors so narrow that they could have been mistaken for maintenance tunnels. There was little to do but to take some well earned rest and compose their reports, those with little or no skill with a quill being aided by a skeletal adept named Dalibor, a man of infinite patience but little initiative, transcribing the spoken reports word for word. Skane made herself available for any discussion the acolytes wished to have but otherwise kept to herself.

They arrived on Lachesis, one of Scintilla's two moons, over a week later, the Revance having made good time. They left the dromon behind, an Aquila lander ferrying them down to a bleak looking fortress. Made of age-polished black stone, it jutted upwards from the surface of the satellite. "The Bastion Serpentis," Skane explained, "the home of the Tyrantine Cabal. This information doesn't go beyond yourselves. Emperor help you if it does." The unusual menace in her voice drove the point home. They landed in an impressive and poorly lit docking bay and managed to make it down the boarding ramp before they were spirited away by more grey armoured soldiers. There we no beatings, drugs or interrogations this time, however, just an escort to their quarters and firm instructions to stay put. They had been granted the rare honour of entering a stronghold of the Inquisition, but to expect to walk its halls freely would be folly.

They would not see Inquisitor Skane for some time after that, nor did they receive word of what conclusion the cabal had come to when considering the disaster on Iocanthos, though their continued existence provided some indication. Interrogator Sand, a man they had first met before being dispatched to the Coscarla Division those many moths ago, made a return, acting as an intermediary between them and the Lady Inquisitor once he'd dragged each of them into a medicae facility to "ensure that you are functioning properly." For most the experience was a blank spot in their memory, the man working wonders to mend their battered bodies. Mikolas, however, found himself on the end of more elaborate procedures.

(The acolytes will spend some time in the Bastion Serpentis, recovering from their injuries, honing their skills and enjoying a respite from their duties. Their movements are strictly controlled, however, being under guard at all times and kept isolated from anyone they are not cleared to meet. Opportunities for special training may arise during this time, especially if an acolyte expresses a desire to expand his capabilities. Those who fail to utilise their time to improve themselves will quickly find the Bastion a desperately boring and constricting environment.

Pick your advances, gentlemen, and get in contact with me via IM. The game shall resume on the 2nd of August where you will be joined by two new faces and a familiar one.)

[Jak Snide]

It had been a half dozen weeks since the acolytes arrived at the Bastion Serpentis. The acolytes, once they had recovered from their wounds, found that there was little to do besides hone their skills. Escorts guided them to their destinations as masked troopers watched from shadowed alcoves. The passages of the Bastion twisted and turned in a manner deliberately designed to confuse those that passed through them. Mikolas had managed to gain the favour of the Master of Arms who presided over the sparring rings and training hall, granting him permission to organise teams of combatants to compete against each other. They grew more sure of their abilities, bodies kept fighting fit by the wars they waged daily and the careful ministrations of Interrogator Sand. Only Cryvus did not take part, disappearing after a fortnight, the only clue about where he had gone being the reassurances of Sand that he was in good hands.

The call came suddenly, demanding their immediate response. They packed their belongings, restored to them after they had been seized by Eicher, and were ushered aboard an Aquila landing craft. Hours later they stood aboard the free trading vessel Verdant Glory in orbit over Scintilla. They met in one of its forward studies, immense arched windows revealing the planet below, the two hives of Sibellus and Tarsus spreading across its continents like cancerous growths.

Inquisitor Skane was present, seated at a circular table which played host to some technological device. She wore a simple grey uniform now, the rosette pinned to it the only indication of her station. Cryvus sat with her, as did another face, familiar to all but Mithras. Gunner, one of the men that they had teamed with during the Coscarla incident, was seated to her right. One more entered the room; a lean, bald man clad in a smith's apron. The Inquisitor beckoned them over and bid them to seat themselves as she stood, a small device in her hand. She thumbed a rune and the image of a tarot card flickered into life above the table, depicting a blank faced magus, rotating slowly.

"Some of you will recognise this." She gestured towards the holographic display. "Those of you that don't need only know was that it played a part in the downfall of a servant of the Throne. One which was orchestrated, I suspect. The deck, or at least this card, was made with xenotech." She pressed another rune and the face of the card disappears, revealing a series of strange shapes and intersecting lines beneath. "Cross-checking turned up nothing, something that doesn't happen when the cabal as a whole turns its resources to a task. Divinations proved equally fruitless. The Emperor provides, however. An old friend of mine recently contacted me. Laurent Strophes, ex-Imperial Navy and connected to the Maechenko Dynasty. An honest and trustworthy man, unusual traits to find in the spires of Sibellus. One of his nieces went missing, he set some hired hands to the task and they turned up one lead."

She slid a piece of parchment across the table for all to see.

"Know your place, serve the Emperor dutifully and be happy. The latter is what the cult actually leans towards. They've even got "harmony meters" to check how cheerful you are. Strophes men got his hands on a few of them. The majority held no surprises, tracing energy patterns in bodies. One had this inside."

She activated the device again and a second display shimmered to life next to the first, showing a series of intricate lines criss-crossed with small nodes. The patterns they formed were more than similar to those of the tarot card. They were identical.

"What do you make of that?"

(Given the gap in time between events on Iocanthos and now, what transpired since then and two new characters entering the game it may be prudent to introduce or re-introduce your character. Also, here's a smaller version of the Joyous Choir handout for those with bandwidth limits/lower screen resolutions.)

[Kelne]

Garbed once more in tidy and servicable clothing, dark garb contrasting with pale skin and white hair, Cryvus was a far cry from the battered, bloodied and haunted individual who had returned from Iocanthos. Nor yet was he the somewhat unhinged, dedicated person who had ventured into the depths of Coscarla. He was more focused now, with a steadiness that came of having faced truly dreadful things and yet retained his faith. Still, new lines had been set in his face, and some hint of his ordeals remained in those green eyes. None of them had escaped Iocanthos unscathed, least of all Cryvus. Perhaps alone among them all, he truly understood much of what they had witnessed, and the knowledge weighed heavily upon his soul. Those familiar with him would note that he had not replaced the staff which had seemed almost a part of him.

Cryvus studied the display, frowning. Any reaction to a familiar name was superseded by the revelation of such xenos tech apparently ensconcing itself in the very heart of the Imperium. Given the trouble the cards had been involved in, he shuddered to imagine what other foul uses such technology might be put to.

"If we can infer similar functions between the two, then there is terrible potential indeed at work here," he said, "I should be very interested to learn whose hands such... altered devices might be found in. And hence, who their influence might be corrupting." From his tone, he knew full well such information was not available. A cause for concern if ever there was one. One thing was certain - this could be no mere wayward cult.

[Capntastic]

Mikolas, tall and brawny as ever, did his best to sit himself down quietly and pay attention. His long black and red checkered coat, having sustained serious battle damage, had been cut up to patch itself. The sleeves had been cut off entirely, making the flak armor that lay underneath much more obvious. His snakeskin belt was anchored down by a barbwire adorned flak helmet, as well as a large metal rod coated with more of the bristling stuff- both hanging by simple hooks. The belt's clasp was likewise wrapped in barbwire, with black feathers tied into it.

Though his coarse black beard remained, the majority of his hair had been shaved off at some point after they arrived on base- only now starting to get a few finger widths in length. . The reason for this was apparent- his left eye had been replaced by a bionic implant. A simple black boxy affair, with a darkened lens, in which a glowing red dot lay, obviously the pupil- made apparent as it darted about as Mik observed the holographic displays. Unfortunately, as he grinned at the Joyous Choir tract, it appeared that even the talented medicae on hand could do nothing for his teeth, many of which were missing from years of brawling.

Even worse, the realization that time in strict confines and surveillance did little to civilize him became clear as he spoke.

"Ya know, this is one of the better scrimshaws of The Emp'rer I've seen. He's stompin' a lizard guy that's got a blade in its neck, and he's also stabbin' it with a spear. 'N then there's all these other critters all 'round him, too. Means lots'a stuff happened, I guess?"

[Christian]

The guardsman Mithras, once he'd recovered from his wounds at the hand of the Skae-thing, had spent his time well. From the moment he could lift a weapon, he participated in Mikolas 'simulations' with wanton zeal and focus, and when he wasn't he spent many a sleepless nights in the library-sections available too him, toiling away at opti-instructions. For many, the only times he'd been seen was during these mock-battles, as he seemed less inclined to spend his time socializing with the others.

At the moment he entered the room, it was clear that the six weeks had certainly done their work on the guardsman. His features were set with a kind of... steely determination that had not been there before, and although his hands occasionally twitched, he seemed to have lost much of the haunted looks that had plagued him earlier. His wide eyes were still taking in much of the surroundings, but at a more... controlled pace. He was in his dark-grey uniform, although without the flak-armour, and his hair had been cropped somewhat, though it was still pulled back in a neck-bound ponytail reaching down to the base of his neck. He was unarmed, which along with his lack of armor and pack made him look somewhat more scrawny than usual, and his salt and pepper hair and newly-grown (and finely cropped) moutee made him look much older than he was. It was hard to believe the man was fit for battle, but for those who had witnessed him in the training area it was obvious that Mithras was determined enough to overcome any troubles his body might cause him... if any existed. The gaping wound in his chest had healed, but had left a horrifyingly large scar, thankfully burried underneath the cloth of his army-jacket.

There was a look of some restrained adulation on his face as Skane spoke, eyes lit up with the will to serve the Emperor through His vassals. The appearance of the tarot card made him blink, but self-control kept him from reacting much more to it. The further revelations about its nature, however, planted a deep frown on his brow and the fingers of one hand clenched the table-edge whilst his other held a cup of slowly cooling recaf frozen halfway to his lips. He eyed the pamphlet, reading its content and taking in what it said, wondering what sort of connection may be at work here.

"Perhaps..." he began, looking over at the others (having already given an affable nod to the three new arrivals) to see if anyone else would object to him speaking, "...perhaps this device somehow affects one's emotions?" he glares at the holograph, going on a limb, "the... ah... when we were in the cathedral, it spoke of how the others had fallen under its sway... perhaps this device simply works on what is already there, amplifying or focusing it...?" He wondered if Aristarchus had fallen prey because of his pride in his ancestor... or his envy of his success, or even a wish to live up to his reputation...



((OOC - Some spelling-errors fixed and a teensy bit of new added))

[Besyanteo]

Gunner still wore the blue and gray full body flak suit he'd had on Coscarla, though now the color was well faded and it was covered in nicks and scratches, dents and a one particularly noticable gouge on the chest piece. It was still servicable, though. His brown hair was still cut military grade short, and he still wore the small golden hoop hanging from his left ear. His face had changed, though. His cheeks were a bit thinner, his neck ever so slightly wider. He'd slimmed down and bulked up, as is wont to happen to a military man. His eyebrows were still bushy and animated when he spoke with any feeling, and his green eyes were still bright. He was still young, but he wasn't as new as when they'd last seen him.

Gunner managed not to smile at Mik's analysis of the tract. He'd come to miss the group of oddballs he'd met for the first time on Coscarla; Time had lent that mission some small degree of romanticism. However this wasn't the time for him to get chummy. The Inquisitor wanted their analysis, so he examined the holos set before them with a furrowed brow. Gunner knew very little of Xenotech, but he understood how unheard of it was for the whole of the Cabal to know nothing about it. That implied that this was new; Not just new to the Imperium, some invention the Eldar had cooked up or something. Rather, new in the sense that they were facing a wholly new source of technology. The Imperium needed a wholly brand new enemy showing up on it's doorstep like it needed a bolter round between the eyes, but there was no other obvious conclusion.

He listened to Mithras' comments, and nodded. "Based on the little information we have, I agree with Cryvus and Mithras. We need to learn more. It would help a great deal to know when this cult was first established, and when they first got a hold of their "happiness scanners". Emperor willing, even who they purchased them from." He paused for a moment. "For that matter, it would help greatly to know how long it took Abbot Skae and Aristarchus to suffer their fates. Not much hope of learning that now, thanks to Interrogator Eicher."

He let a long breathe out through his nose. He had to stop before he let himself get out of line. Much as he'd like to, it wouldn't be productive to talk about crushing the Interrogator's throat beneath his armored boot.

[NamagomiMk0]

Crisis had regained functioning relatively quickly; while the fall had injured him particularly badly, he was still able to move, though not fight as well. However, following the mission, things went...strangely. The first thing he did was to seek out a mech-wright, to tend to his guns; feeling the machine spirits had been angered in response to the fall, or treatment by Eicher and his men. While reluctant to participate in a simulation at first--feeling it may be too gamelike and ultimately dull his skills...however, it proved realistic enough for him to go full-out in roughly every battle. When he wasn't in the mock-battles, he kept to his room, seemingly still practicing with his weapons...

He didn't seem to be any different from the last mission when he entered the room. Wearing a dark gray cloak over himself, with guns still strapped to him--the full-metal rifle that he had with him from the start, the autocarbine he had acquired from Coscarla, and both an autopistol and hand cannon acquired on Scintilla previously--one grenade in the combat webbing, and several clips of ammunition still secured to him, he looked no worse for wear. Well, he looked as heavily-armed as he would. His face was at first concealed, but as soon as he sat, he removed the broken-lensed gas mask, revealing a face that was gray-skinned, framed by orange hair...and impossible to determine if it was that of a man or of a woman, despite the stern expression.

Crisis could tell right away that there was something very wrong with this cult. Heresy was one thing...but there was something well out of place about this. Something using apparently little-known xenos tech this way was fucked up, to say the least...

...right before he heard Mikolas speak. At which point his palm made a distinctive "thwock" as it connected squarely with his forehead.

Could that idiot feral go five fucking MINUTES without saying or doing something completely imbecilic?!

[Jak Snide]

"The Choir has existed for five years. Publicly, at least. While the cult hasn't been officially accepted by the Ecclesiarchy it does have their general approval. Along with the approval of a good part of the nobility, Strophes' niece included. Until now I'd believed that its success was down to the privileged juves bankrolling it in an attempt to outdo each other." The contempt in her voice told the acolytes exactly what she thought of such people.

"As for the tainted device, we don't know what it does beyond it performing the same function as the untainted units. We only got ahold of it today and my tech-adepts haven't been able to puzzle it out. It can be brought here if you think you can do better. If does what you suspect," she nodded to Mithras, "then it's even more vital that we hunt down whoever's supplying the tech and the people they've sold it to."

[Christian]

Mithras shook his head and frowned, a somewhat... apologetic look on his face. "If those whose duty it is to know the will of the Machine-Spirits cannot reveal the secrets of this one, then I am in doubt that we shall fare better." he gave the facepalming Crisis a doubtful look before continuing, "if the nobility supports The Choir, then any manner of open confrontation, especially without backed evidence, would be ill-adviced..." he paused, looking at Skane, "...not that I doubt that the Inquisition will have any trouble handling such an occurence. However..." he gave the floating holograph a suspicious look, "How well are we able to tell the difference between the devices? A covert operation sent in to recon the choir and try to pinpoint those who have been given the Xenos-tech might be the most viable strategy. Low-profile covert, Weapons Hold of course."

Through his short, albeit pretty active career at Tranch, Mits hadn't had the opportunity for any infiltration ops, although he'd taken part in the odd System Disruption. When you're fighting mutants, hiding amongst them's not exactly an option. "Barring any Black Swans, we might even make it out with an EPW for interrogation... ma'm."

[Capntastic]

"Yeah, I think the idea is we go quiet in and find out what there is to be found out. And then we either find out who has more of them line-machines. I get the feelin' we'll blend in a sight better than one of the full on heavy metal tech priest fellas-"

He shrugged his enormous shoulders, raising his meaty hands to indicate the scrawny guardsman, the blue armor clad lad, the aged psyker, and especially his little buddy, the orange haired argyrian.

"We're a pretty average lookin' lot."

[Ben Smash]

The bald man had been - what appeared to be - a state of deep thought while the proceedings had begun. Suddenly, almost without purpose he began humming an all to familiar refrain to "Emperor we Adore Thee," as he rose from his seat. Propping himself up with what appeared to be a very large combi-tool, like that of a cane, he stopped humming to grunt a little and crack his back. He was tall and had skin like leather, with the lean features of a man who's spent his life working his fingers to the bone. Dipping his head ever so slightly to Skane he spoke in a baritone that reverberated through the room, the kind of voice a practiced Inciter has: "If I may interrupt and put meh two pennies in, m'Lady? I've seen cults from the lathes to the hives where yeh found meh, many only endured because of the nice clink they have available to 'donate' to local establishments. If'n ye were to ask a humble man like meh, ye'd find I'm of the mindset that there is only one way. Only one True Cult. That is the one-a purity 'n righteousness. These leaflets and idlers are just endorsed gangers most of the time. Why, before meh - heh - adventure on Goonmetal, I ran into a few small time ones that were just extortion fronts. Bleedin' good werkin' folks in the name of Him-On-Earth, may 'ee be revered and humble me with 'is everlastin' grace."

The bald man grew silent again, brushing his hand down his smock to a necklace that held a Cog with an Aquila welded on to it. He gripped it tight and smiled wide at the room, beginning to walk about. A firm clink depositing itself in the echoes of the room as his multi-tool moved with him. His smock barely fluttered as his long legs strode about, as it was made of good thick hide. It had a large pocket fashioned into it's center where a metal-bound book rested snugly; the head of the Imperial Eagle could be made out from the top. Beneath his smock the butt of a pistol poked out at his left waist. It was large, possibly a bolt or hand cannon. It was clear he had no use for a cane, he was a tall, healthy man with a physique known to a man of poverty and labor. Underneath his smock he was clad in the simple robes of a lay-priest, tattered linen and simple red edging gathered at the waist with what appeared to be a length of cable, expertly spliced at his side. He obviously meant to go unnoticed or was just a commoner either way he was clean and began making his way about the room.

"If'n it pleases the room, it'd be a great slight to the Holy Inquisition, may all go before it's justice, and The Emperor, may he shine his gaze upon us, if'n I dinnae introduce my odd countinence. I am Gregaryus Vendictine, Preist of the Memdicantine Missionaries. Ahn ahm very pleased tae meet yeh all. Please, do call meh Bruvver Gear. Apologies Mistress Skane, but this unholyness about us," he waved his combi-tool at the display with ease and grace, careful not to hit anyone nearby. "...these cards, they were possessions of the Heretic you spoke to me about? My associates 'n yer Grace seem set on a connection between these extortionists and the heretek. S'been meh experience that stray flocks are best herded back from the inside by shephards adorned in wool. It's how the gangers in Goonmetal saw the Light, may it shine upon us. Ah lived as them and understood them, only then was ah able to make meh way aboot. D'say that's our best course of action, Ah agree with our check'd-n-spikey friend."

Brother Gear looked quite satisfied that he had orated quite enough to convey his point. He had only hoped the Red-headed lass wouldn't be confused as he was addressing Skane when stating m'lady and the like. As if to punctuate it all he plunked his combi-tool firmly upon the ground which resounded in a loud *clank* that seemed to please him greatly.

[NamagomiMk0]

Shut. Up. Or. I. Will. Shoot. Your. Jaw. Off. NOW.

Crisis' hand gripped his face in absolute frustration as Mikolas continued on, his expression contorting into a frustrated, snarling visage not unfamiliar to the original members of the cell here. With his other hand free from expressing his exponentially growing anger, the sharpshooter fished for his writing tools, before scribbling down something.

'I am certain that our capabilities are, regrettably, suboptimal for an infiltration mission such as this. We as a whole, and Mikolas in particular seem to lack the subtleties required for this sort of mission to be performed in an optimal manner, and we do so very notably stand out, contrary to the Feral's...impressively misguided statement. However, as it is your command to infiltrate and deal with this cult from within, it is hereby our duty to carry it out to the best of our abilities.'

He then continued to listen to the new person--Brother Gear, as he introduced himself and made his statement, appraising him all the while. A priest of the Ecclesiarchy, and quite the long-winded sort--but not stupid as to mistakenly neglect to arm himself with a solid weapon. While solid pistols suffered from suboptimal range and accuracy in Crisis' opinion, they were still superior to the laspistols that some that he should not mention seemed over-reliant on in a previous mission...time would see if and how much he would end up disliking him for certain...

At the very least, Gunner would present another rational head for the situation...

[Jak Snide]

A rare smile crept onto the Inquisitor's face as Mikolas spoke, only to disappear swiftly once Brother Gear rose and opened up with that bombastic voice of his. She read Crisis' note while the priest delivered his appraisal.

"You're both correct. You're to go to Hive Sibellus and find out exactly what is going on with the Joyous Choir and how they're involved with this xenotech. Infiltration is not your speciality, as you noted, which is why you'll be joined by Gunner, Gregaryus and the absent Sister Masha. Brother Gear has stated his own area of expertise. The Sister has experience in dealing with the nobility of several worlds. Religious duties have bound her to Hive Tarsus for now, but she'll be joining you later. Strophes will be taking you in as distant relatives plus retainers. He and his daughter Julia will also brief you in correct behaviour as well as making sure you look the part. Masha will be posing as a tutor for Julia when she links up with you. All this should help you gain entrance to this faith's inner circle. I recommend you sort out the who's who before you get down there along with where you're coming from. I'd recommend Fenksworld, a blighted backwater of a hive world, but I'll leave the decision in your hands. Sibellus is an old posting of mine and I was a known face in my time so I won't be going with you. Gunner has rank for this mission, as does Cryvus. I've had a shielded account set up for you to use and to provide legitimacy to your cover. Try not to spend it all. Do not expose yourselves as agents of the Inquisition to anyone besides Strophes unless you absolutely have to. I want whoever's behind this bound and brought before me, not fleeing the sector. Information is what we need, not a three figure body count and a burning spire."

[Kelne]

"By your command," Cryvus said formally. The mission parameters didn't exactly fill him with confidence, but one seldom had the opportunity to choose their own battlegrounds. The presence of two people well-suited to the arena was a comfort, even if they were still relative unknowns to him. They were going to need them, he was sure. Somehow, the image of Crisis and Mikolas mingling with high society just wouldn't come, no matter what manner of disguise his mind conjured up for them. Clearly some thought was required. Along with, perhaps, more devious minds than his own.

Cryvus's experiences with the nobility had been strictly limited, and very much from the outside. Moreover, he would need to guard his tongue carefully. Random mutterings of doom would not be received well, and would draw attention in any case.

[Christian]

As some people in the group of acolytes may or may not remember, Mithras was hardly of hiver stock; he'd been born and raised on a fairly deserted Agriworld and had been shipped off from there straight into the civil war on Tranch. Despite this, he hardly seemed concerned with the fact that he'd most likely have some trouble blending in. "I'm certain there are many options available for us, not all of which require talking." he glanced once more at Crisis. Even though Mikolas was a lumbering behemoth of a man, he was fairly certain that it would be the silent assassin that'd have the most trouble fitting in with lofty nobility and fancy pantsers. "Whatever is the wish of the Imperium and the Inquisition, I shall lay down my life for it." he ended with a snap in his back and a sharp salute to the female inquisitor. Despite all his short-comings, Mithras was a well-trained soldier of the Guard, and it is hard for the tiger to lose its stripes.

[Capntastic]

Mik flashed his tombstone grin.

"Yeah, even without the body count, I'll do this job the best I can. No promises on the spire, though."

Mik regarded the tract's imagery again.

"Can I keep this when you're done with it?"

[Christian]

Mithras folded his hands on the table and looked at the others. "It's best to plan and set our method of operation." he chuckled, "Who'll be kings and who'll be slaves." he looked around to see if anyone else found it amusing. Whether or not they did, he continued somewhat more seriously, "Pride shouldn't be an issue here. I don't mind going as a servant, I could probably pass off as a bodyguard or security advisor, but I know my fair share about the Guard in general." he seemed to shrink for a moment when the full onset of what he'd proposed came clear to him, impersonating a Commissioned Officer?

A glance towards the mute and the goliath made him take on a doubtful expression, "I think we'd better leave the roles of nobility to those who don't... stand out too much."

[NamagomiMk0]

Crisis wrote again in response.

'I am fully aware of the behavior of some nobles, having worked under one on more than one occasion. I could not hope to imitate the insufferable mannerisms they seem to, at times, possess, but I believe that I would be suited to the role of a bodyguard--if only hired. Mikolas and his bumbling personality also seems far more fit for such as well--I am aware of this, and do not need to be informed on the matter.


I must pose a question, however--what are the generally acceptable limitations for long-arms on bodyguards in the noble sectors? I can get by with pistols, but my expertise lies more in projectile-firing long-arms.'

As opposed to useless, mass-produced lasweaponry... he thought as he showed the note.

[Jak Snide]

"Bodyguards may carry long-arms," Skane said, still reading through the note, "but only if they register themselves and each of their weapons with the Magistratum. They'll want a gene-sample as well. That can be faked easily, but any weapons you register will be on file. Not good for any future operations on Scintilla. I advise that you take something out of the armoury rather than registering any personal favourites. You've got the pick of the it, within reason. On that note, I've tasked someone with handling acquisitions for your cell. You'll be working more closely with him in the future, but for now you'll have to make do with whatever special equipment he's selected. The rest of you should look like you're prepared to defend yourself, not go to war. There's going to be some nigh-impenetrable social protocol regarding what is "proper" for a noble to armed with. Strophes will tell you what that exactly is this season."

[NamagomiMk0]

The assassin continued to write.

'In addition, given that bodyguards are viable, what sorts of threats would we be facing while under disguise? Furthermore, in the unfortunate case that one of us happens to blow the cover for the rest, what sort of resistance would we end up facing in our attempt to escape?'

[Christian]

Mithras glanced at the note and frowned. "Although I'd like to say that we shouldn't have to worry about such a scenario, if things do get FUBAR we'll be in a bind. Are there any martial elements to this cult, or hired security? I think a firefight is the one thing we should be avoiding, if we're shooting our way out this mission's as good as failed anyway. I think a more important issue would be eventual escape. I have never been in Sibellus, and I do not know my way around there... But I know that the Hive is big. Plenty of spaces to dig a foxhole in and wait out the flak." A cough and a twitch, "Perhaps Brother Gear may know his way around Sibellus? Were you not from Gunmetal, father?"

[Jak Snide]

"I can't say what forces the Joyous Choir or any potential puppet master might call on. The Choir itself is less militant than other interpretations of the Imperial Creed. I expect them to limit themselves to security that won't disrupt their image. Guards with side-arms, perhaps a concealed auspex linked to defensive mechanisms within their holdings. Anything beyond that would be total speculation. Take some proper firepower down there with you in case the situation spirals out of control. You won't be able to carry it around without compromising your cover, but should it be blown it pays to be able to retreat and gear up. Escape isn't an option. If your position becomes untenable you hole up in Strophes' holdings and call for aid and instruction. Again, do not expose yourselves as Inquisitorial agents unless there is absolutely no other choice. Even if everything goes down the sumphole."

[Ben Smash]

*ahem* Gregaryus cleared his throat and dropped the lighthearted candor heard before and adressed Mithras directly, with the dead-eyed respect you might get from a Guardsman. "Sir, I come from the Lathes, Born into strange circumstances I found The Grace of Terra on my own and came to you through my work as a Missionary. I agree with the idea of posing as Comissioned officers and footsoldiers of either the Imperial Navy or Guard as a good will "mission" to bolster the security of the region and the general well being of the nobles. They will all snap-to or begin plotting against us immediately. It is a way to gently show our entirely stacked hand... *cough* Ahhs ye can all see, 'spent bit a' time with down units station ahn dead rawks, bringin what Light of the Emperor, bless it and keep it, ah could teh em. *ahem* I know the mannerisms of the fairly more sane Officers and Chaplains... It places us nicely within the bosom of the underhive and the spires. Two Bosoms! HAH!"

Brother Gear Chuckled to himself gleefully and addressed Skane with sincerity practically tattooed on his furrowed brow. "M'Lady What we have before us, ehn the Hives and the Spires has the potential to escalate quickly and dangerously. Ah say we play a moderate bluff, one tha' gives us statistical advantage. Arr a'lessen 'Scuse to be so heavily armed. The people, May he keep his Cogs blessed, should keep out of the way unless they truly desire the Emperor's Mercy. Shoul'ah have tae mete it out, There will be little surprise or uproar."

[Capntastic]

"Yeah, I got no problem with anything, but I'd prefer if I don't have to play at bein' someone's gunswab or porter. I'm too used to the good life. An' someone'd see in an instant that I'm not the sort to be ordered around for silly shit like drinks an' holdin' doors open."

Mik folded his arms and leaned back a bit, appraising the group and contemplating.

"Our brother Greg here certainly has a feelin' of knowledge about him. Maybe not a king or warlord himself, but definitely someone close to 'em. Cryvus, though, has that same feelin' an' more. You can tell he's the sort who has concern for the task on hand while still thinkin' a step or two ahead- very leaderlike. Gunner, you an' Mits here are both fine military folk, good at givin' an' takin' orders. Might be best for you two to stick with Gear's idea an' keep yourselves as such- but bein' hired guns sounds good too, if it'll let you keep your arms handy. Heh."

His eyes fell upon Crisis.

"An' Crisis here could either be hidden amongst us as a servant, or a cool and calm gunman. Or he can be one of them mysterious types you know you're not supposed to talk to unless it's important. He's pretty much free for whatever he chooses."

Mik grinned, hoping his observations of the group helped the decisions at all.

[NamagomiMk0]

Crisis restrained the urge to write something to encourage someone in the room to tell the feral to shut up, while giving him probably one of the most incredulous looks ever.

'As someone who has worked with nobles for a short period of time, Mikolas is ill-suited for any non-servant role, despite how utterly, irreversably, and hopelessly delusional he may seem to be regarding his own perceived social status in relation to hive nobles. As for my suggestions, I feel that we should go with the original idea of impersonating nobles and their typical retinues--it would likely draw less attention than the thought of posing as a group that is likely to draw questions at a very rapid pace. As loath as I am to willingly group myself with him, the Feral and I would be most fit for bodyguard positions--forging gene-samples and using armory-provided weaponry would be suitable--my own skills are largely fitting for the role anyway, and if not in the case of the former, he could be a servant for the use of manual labor. Mithras would also be suitable for bodyguard duty, if only by means of volunteering. That leaves the issues of Cryvus, Gunner, Gear, and Masha.'

[Kelne]

Cryvus frowned thoughtfully, "I believe we need a mixture of 'nobles' and 'hangers-on'," he said, "After all, there are many conversations among the servants which their masters would never be privy to. Being a straightforward and gregarious person, I believe you would be well suited for such a role, Mikolas," he went on, opting for the route of diplomacy over any expressions of incredulity or denigration. He was really going to have to have a word with Crisis one of these days; seething contempt for one's comrade wasn't exactly an ideal attitude. Thankfully, Mikolas couldn't read, and thus far, nobody had shown the faintest inclination to translate for him.

[Christian]

Mithras, like Cryvus, had no desire to further sow discord in the group, and it was a blissful fact that the Feral couldn't read, and weren't likely to learn at any point.

"I agree with Cryvus and Crisis," he added, "although the idea of appearing as military-men appeals to me," he gave a nod to Cog, "Crisis is right in that it would bring down questions on us. It is far simpler, in my opinion, to pose as whim-ful nobles who find the cult fascinating. Emperor knows there must be plenty around..." he shot a quick glance at the Inquisitor, "...not that I would know, we had very few on Dreath."

He trummed his fingers on the table and frowned, "Perhaps it would be best if we get a SitRep from this Strophes before we dig in, I'm sure that he can help us in figuring out exactly what kind of roles we'll be playing, not to mention supply us with the gear we'd require."

[Ben Smash]

"Right... then 'eer meh out one las' time. If you are *ahem* (his voice changing candor and accent again) nobles with say, a naval military detachment showing good will to the real hangers on to this unholy blight, all sorts of inferences can be made. They might think we are just another bite up the chain and be eager to show us the works. But if we are forced to show our hand to stay protected and the *ahem* livehn' Cogs a' His Grace, we should be attended by the likes of a Naval Landing Party. Ah could easily ehnterrpret and acht on the role o' kept priest to the noble family... pooshin' this falseness." Brother Gear shifted on his Combi-Tool a bit. He was grinning widely and imploring the attention and agreement of all present. The man genuinely believed that only under the guise of truth, partial ones or no, could righteousness be meted out. However he was having a hard time coming up with any other reasons to believe this...

[NamagomiMk0]

'Military connections are still going to raise suspicion more easily than interested nobles. I would prefer to avoid the prying interest of those who may pierce our concealment as much as possible. As such, a complete disconnection from the military in our cover is advisable.' Crisis responded.

[Ben Smash]

"Cannae say ahm pleased with t'idea of ehmpers'natin nobility. What about a scenario where we have ahh noble fahmly who's family has tendrils in the Navy, whom escorts us. Thess way our quarry can see we carry clout ahn protection. Eht'd be easier on the locals too, as Hivers dont fear a noble-man's thugs. Most fear t'Guard or t'Marines and many tremble aht the sight of ahn official landing party. It stinks ahf money, my friends, and power." Brother Gear plainly stated.

[Christian]

Mithras' brow creased as he tried to make sense of all this, especially the way the priest was speaking.

"Alright," he muttered, thumb and index of his left hand at the corners of his mouth, dragging along his newly grown beard, "Alright, hold on..." he glanced at Brother Gear, "I'm sure you're right in the fact that they're going to be excited when a bunch of really influential nobles from the navy come prancing around, shock and awe. But with that kind of attention, as Crisis points out, we're going to be scrutinized pretty carefully by the people in charge of security, and I know next to nothing about the spacehuddlers and how they work, and I don't fancy myself much of a spacefarer. I don't have the legs for it."

He sighed and leaned back in his chair, "I'm laying my vote on infiltrating as nobles. Crisis does have a point about pretending not to involve the guard, but then a lot of us are going to have to take up the position of bodyguards and servants, an"

[Ben Smash]

"Ahm well aware o' mah personality traits. Ehtll be hard tae hide my manner ahs a common man, as well as my affinity for them. I propose two groups. Th'more rough of us head to the underhive and see if we cannae meet a 'Joyus Choir' recrootah. Those a'yeh who think ye're up tae snuff with th'noble classes shall infiltrate their Spires. We will rendezvous nightly at ah safe location, scouted ahead by someone slinky like th'Redheaded Lass." Brother Gear seemed satisfied, once again, and beamed boyishly at Crisis and Mithras. "Ahm sure my friend Mikolas would love tae see th'underhives," turning to Mikolas now, "Ehs like no other battlefield or maze ye've seen. All the bootleg Amasec yeh can drink and plenty of dames to boot! HAH! Blendin ehn will be a joy."

[Besyanteo]

Gunner had simply listened to the others go back and forth so far, letting their speculations and suggestions tick over in his mind. He didn't always get to get a good look at Crisis' notes because of that, but he felt he probably knew the gist of them based on the other's reactions to them. At any rate, they were taking too long arguing over this, and since Cryvus wasn't stepping in to take charge...

"I think that splitting into two smaller groups has been the best idea so far. I propose that Cryvus, brother Gear and Mithras will infiltrate the Spires. On the face of it, Brother Gear will be in charge, though you'll still take your orders from Cryvus obviously. None of us are perfect for the job, but of us I think you three probably come the closest. Go with whatever story you feel is most appropriate. I'll take Crisis and Mikolas Underhive, and Crisis can act as our go-between and scout when absolutely necessary. Do you have any objections, Cryvus?"

In truth, he was making some big decisions based on information that he hadn't observed himself. He trusted the Inquisitor and her reports, of course, but it wasn't the same as knowing for sure that Mithras would keep a cool and clear head, for example. It had been long enough since they last worked together to be unsure of Cryvus as well... But what were they going to do? They couldn't split up and then send one of the groups off without a commanding officer. That would just be damned silly.