Dark Heresy - Wisdom is the beginning of fear.

[Jak Snide]

Laurent shook his head. "Hardline vox stations are almost exclusively the domain of the Adeptus Mechanicus. Even the other Adeptus must make down with lesser forms of communication except in the most important of circumstances. They may make an exception for yourselves, and then only if you revealed yourselves as Inquisitorial agents. Several messenger guilds thrive for this very reason. I'm afraid the luxury of swift communication is not something we enjoy in Sibellus."

Cryvus:

Spoiler:

You recall that Luntz in Coscarla had a hardline vox terminal which, given what Laurent has said, should not have existed. Perhaps there are other such unknown terminals within the hive, hidden from the Machine Cult?

[Kelne]

"The moral is to try not to get into situations where we need immediate backup," Cryvus said, "As long as we keep a low profile - or at least blend in - we shouldn't be getting into any firefights, and there's no need to keep in contact for command decisions." Gunner would be with them, after all, and was fully equipped to make such decisions. "I would prefer not to be sending coded messages back and forth in any case; people do notice such things, and while they might not understand the code, they could certainly recognise it as such."

He had to admit to a certain degree of amusement at Julia's designs upon his comrades' fashion sense. No doubt she would get to him given time, which was somewhat less amusing. Hopefully, current fashions weren't too far on the garish side.

[Ben Smash]

"Y'know lads, I've been silent, Emperor keep my peace, but I believe that if we absolutely haaad tae meet," he twitched a little. Almost as if putting on the airs of a soft spoken preacher-man was ... hurting him.
"One of us could easily blend in at a commonplace bar and discuss as safely as possible in some sort of glossial/conversational cant and get an idea of what's going on. He on Earth would wish us banded together, fast against the foulness that will beset us. The Saints of The Sector may wish that we operate on contingency, occasionally, my brethren."

He pulled his collars low, looking pensively about for acceptance of his opinion from the group. He was not himself in the colder, stuffy climes here. He seemed... cold.

[ChristianC]

Mithras nodded, trying to banish the thought of the others, or themselves, needing backup. He sincerely hoped that Cryvus and Gear were correct and they wouldn't need to contact eachother during the interim of the time.

"Well..." he began, stroking once more his beard, "I suppose the constant presence of a vox-transmitter in the guards have made me a bit too dependant on them." he sighed and nodded, "That settles that matter... I wonder, though, should we arrive together at the sect for the first time? Although we need to find Orday quickly, it would perhaps instill some more confidence in them regarding our assumed personas if we arrive in full force, servants in tow..." he glanced at Mikolas and the others.

[Ben Smash]

"My friend, you wish the orderly manner of His Holy Service, but we cannae give airs that this is our mission. Perhaps a small contingent and then a full party? Those in the underhive will do well to stick well together, if my humble Holy Service in Gunmetal has proved ahnny thing, it is that you are best supported with the numbers of the Faithful." Gregaryus' eyes flared, his jaws set as he seemed to run through a recollection of his.

He breathed deep and exhaled short burst of words that sounded akin to a Benediction. "Comrades, I say we come three Abreast, in a cordial manner, before we come bearing arms. As much as I hate to be ill-prepared to mete out His Imperial Will, may it ring loud and true, we must excise caution!"

[Besyanteo]

For once, Gunner's mind wasn't completely on task and mission. Their host's daughter was, if he understood, turning the mission into a glorified fashion show. It was... well, to be honest, he hadn't been gone from home THAT long and he knew other women who would have done just the same given the chance. But not many. And he was pretty sure most of them wouldn't be able to think about it if their cousin was the one in danger, or possibly dead.

He forced his mind away from it as she turned to Mik, who could admittedly use a visit to both a hairdresser and a dentist. He had a reason behind his outfit being as horrendous as it was, so he would just make a point to selectively ignore her as necessary. Brother Gear and Mithras were discussing communication, and in his consternation he'd missed some of it. Now he'd have to listen and try to puzzle out their plans. If worse came to worse, he'd bring it up again after they were out of the girl's presence.

[Ben Smash]

"My good Man!" Brother Gear gestured to Gunner, waving him over to Gregaryus' side. "You're a stout lad and of solid resolve, I think a contingent of ye'rself an' "Cousin" Mithras here would be an excellent first visit. Brief and cordial, like, show your goodwill now an bring the Holy Light... I recommend my humble countenance to do so... to their ranks when you see fit to add the weight of your own Holy Connections. While you do so I will spend a day in the underhive under another Alias with my friend Mik, here, on a... fact finding mission."

Brother Gear flashed a toothy smile at all present. It was obvious that he felt out of place around nobility, but wished to be a total aid to the mission.

He cracked his jaw a little, as the tension was building in it and bleated most gleefuly, "Now, time's-a-wasting, an' The Emperor's Time is a terrible waste."

[NamagomiMk0]

Crisis took this time to respond; typing furiously on his data-slate as the masked assassin intended clearly to state a vital piece of information to Gear in his own way--displaying it on said dataslate.

'I would highly recommend against attempting to adopt a second disguise, unnecessarily meeting up, diverging from the original plan, and ESPECIALLY going anywhere unarmed, Gear. People carry weapons around here for more than one reason, and going in without is simply idiotic. In addition, we only have cognomens and paperwork for one disguise, not two, and it would be ill-advised to take any action that would be so clearly suspicious as that and in turn compromise the mission. And I will NOT have another failed mission on my hands, especially one due to any mistakes caused by squadmates. Understood?'

Once that was done, he would then turn to Julia, ready to ask her regarding issues of his own. He had no interest in compromising the mission due to errors in wardrobe selection, but neither did he have any in abandoning his armor...

[Ben Smash]

Reading carefully he smiled wide, "Who said anything about paperwork or goin' without Steel at my side mate?" He turned gracefully and patted his hip which made a nice click noise that could only be well-greased machinery. "You'd do well to remember that! Hah, however I see your point an' I think I would be best applied getting to know the servants and the lower nobles we encounter, as their tongues wag more in favor of The Holy Ecclesiastes rather than a sharp knife and a cold barrel. Gunnar? What do you think about initial movements?"

Gear rested his hand on his hip where his weapon was concealed and near where his Tome of Many Blessings was slung in it's leather satchel. He seemed ponderous, stroking his leathery jaw... taking in his fellow Acolytes.

[NamagomiMk0]

Crisis typed again, seemingly emotionless beneath the blanked mask that he wore...

'I understand your confidence in your social capabilities. However, the problem lies in the fact that any guise other than the one you have had a cognomen issued for is going to be severely flawed at best in comparison. Any detailed check will blow your cover, as well as potentially that of the rest of us. In addition, your verbose nature seems fit for interaction in the spires, from what little I have observed of some nobles.'

In actuality, the sharpshooter was more irate of the possibility that Gear might end up causing problems in tandem with Mikolas. The latter already needed no provocation to cause issues, and it seemed like the former would provide all the provocation needed to cause serious problems...

'Regardless, I have full intent to limit my operations, unless absolutely necessary, to the underhive. My capabilities are limited in regards to advancing a group within a social structure, and I would prefer to operate under conditions that utilize my capabilities to the fullest extent.'

[Jak Snide]

The younger Strophes was bemused by Crisis' rapid rune-presses and non-verbal communication. Laurent didn't bat an eyelid, summoning a servant through some discreet means as the acolytes debated how exactly to proceed. He gave the woman instructions to clear out a wing on the second floor to accommodate the acolytes and their belongings, the latter being carried away by two strapping porters, and to arrange a meeting with Orday in a day's time. Julia, meanwhile, diverted the conversation away from fashion and planning to brief them on the spires, those inhabited them and the way things flowed.

The first thing she touched on was trial by combat. Insulting a fellow noble would result in a formal challenge trip to the Bloodsquares, the entire process supported legally. The rules of a dual, including the option to select a bodyguard to stand in for you, was governed by the nature of the insult, the exact details seeming almost nonsensical to the acolytes, though it seemed that less serious slights would result in less life-threatening challenges while preventing a bodyguard from fighting for the noble. The most serious of insults, and one that would demand a duel to the death, was to slander another's ancestors or lineage. Insulting a prized possession or calling its authenticity into question yielded almost equally severe results, the nobility prizing their collections of artefacts. There were a dizzying array of things that could lead to offence, if not a formal challenge, ranging from performing the wrong sort of greeting to a man dressed in a certain cut of coat to failing to laugh in an specific manner which depending on the subject and tone of a conversation. There was much to remember, though Julia claimed that she was only teaching them "the most basic of manners" and trusting that their assumed Fenksworld origins would excuse them from the more petty details.

There was an entirely different, if much simpler, set of rules for bodyguards and entourage members. Bodyguards were not to speak to their betters unless spoken to first and must never offer an opinion on a matter unless specifically asked for it. Matters of security were an exception to this rule, allowing the man to speak of his own accord or even interrupt a conversation if the situation was sufficiently perilous. It was considered improper to insult a bodyguard, even for a noble, and most especially for one who employed the man in question. It was a well regarded profession in Sibellus, no doubt largely due to the frequency of duels.

Entourage members who were there for "colour," a category which encompassed Brother Gear's role as a chaplain, were expected to have some skill or talent that they could display upon demand and were allowed to contribute to a conversation if they were well spoken, though they must always defer to the opinion of their patron. They were also allowed to speak freely with the retinue members of other nobles which, Julia noted, is a great way to pick up gossip and spread gossip. It also serves as the manner in which many nobles set up illicit encounters, romantic or otherwise, their followers acting as go-betweens. Brother Gear's religious role would grant him a little more leeway than other sorts of retinue members, the nobility still feigning reverence at least, but he was still a common man in their eyes. Which led onto the subject of Spurring and the latest fashion which brought it about.

Aethyr Weaving "is all the rage", the elite garbing themselves in gauzy outfits strung together with electrographs and other materials to produce various subtle lighting effects. The younger and more attractive scions of the noble houses highlight their bodies so that their silhouettes are visible outside of their clothing while the older and more reserved favour darker clothing with star patterns resembling constellations. The result of this was that most gatherings were held in dark rooms ranging from twilight to pitch black. This was all melded with the prevailing fashion of the century to garb ones followers in complimentary attire, often imitating some work of literature or art. Spurring, which Julia had mentioned in passing before, was a new past time that drew from this latter facet of fashion. Young nobles would would find a low-born"candidate" and offer him or her a place in their revels, only to spend the evening enacting a famous (to them) piece of theatre in which the unsuspecting commoner plays a lead role. The hiver has no idea what role they're playing, or that they're even playing a roll, and the resulting laughter and cutting wit is quite baffling. Or it would be, at least, if the candidates weren't injected with the drug spur to "enhance their performance," the mention of which shifted Julia's tone from lightly informative to something a touch more disapproving. A hiver that provided entertainment was given a goodly sum of money and sent on his way. Boredom, however, would see additional dosages of spur being injected in the hope that the subject would provide some amusement. The practice was tolerated by the Magistratum as "nobody is meant to get hurt" and the lives of a single commoner weren't really worth all that much to those up here anyway, both noble and law-keeper alike. Laurent, who'd remained mostly quiet and only interjecting to answer questions until now, was far more verbal in his condemnation of the activity, calling it "a vulgar abuse of the privileges of leadership." Julia did her best to to calm him down, once again skilfully steering the conversation onto a different topic; that of the hive's history.

(Everything here can be considered common knowledge. Feel free to retroactively pose questions about any topic; the Strophes will answer them to the best of their ability. Unless other plans are made the rest of the day will be spent being tutored and being whisked off to boutiques, entirely at the mercy of a young lady with effectively infinite funds. Hopefully they'll be able to make a side-trip to Goldenhand holding and set up an account of their own with their letter of credit. After that it's on to the next day and presumably to a meeting with the bounty hunter Orday for those in the mid-hive team. Those who are to remain in the spires will need to evaluate what they want to do with their time.)

[NamagomiMk0]

Crisis listened intently to Julia as she continued to speak. Particularly on the combat-related issues. As he listened, though, he seemed to continue to work his data-slate again.

'I have a few questions. First, what are at least the basic forms that the duels in question take? Second, what weapons are allowed in said forms? Third, how much cover is there in these "Bloodsquares"? And in addition, would it be a breach of etiquette to shoot a perceived threat if the bodyguard were to notice it before the noble?'

[Kelne]

Cryvus spent the rest of the day (aside from that part of it given over to shopping) in study, examining the material provided and familiarising himself with the history of House Strophes. He would, after all, be expected to have some passing familiarity with it. In particular, the history of Great Uncle Thallus. There was a story there, he knew, though whether it had a bearing on their mission he was as yet unsure.

On balance, he thought it was best to let Julia be their guide as to the best means of introducing themselves into high society. Much as he might wish to begin immediately, simply haring off to the first gathering that presented itself might well be counterproductive. Particularly if they were to appear without sufficient entourage. Again, Cryvus hated to pull anybody from useful work, but appearances, alas, had to be maintained.

[Jak Snide]

"The bloodsquares are as they sound: small areas with nothing between the duelists. Pistols or swords are the usual fair. Back to back, ten paces and all that. A powered blade or something of equivalent lethality wouldn't be allowed in a duel to first blood."

"As for your question of etiquette," Laurent interjected, "such decisions lie with the bodyguard in question. If they make an error of judgement then it would reflect poorly upon their master for selecting them but, and in that regard they can bring shame on him. When it comes to the law, however, it was the bodyguard's decision to fire and he would bear the repercussions of the act. As you can imagine incidents of "poor judgement" resulting in noble deaths are not entirely uncommon."

---

Cryvus managed to escape the worst of Julia's excursion to the commercial districts of the spires due to his research, returning to House Strophes with a mere three additional sets of clothing and an exquisitely crafted ivory cane. The others spent the day being dressed up in several fashions ranging from the understated to the grotesquely gaudy, receiving cosmetic treatments and sums of money vast enough for them all to live well on for a year. Mikolas' trip to to the dentitionist was a surprisingly pain free affair, though it took several hours for the anaesthetics to fully wear off. Gunner managed to steer them towards a Goldenhand holding and presented their Letter of Credit, giving both Cryvus and Mithras the ability to draw on their own substantial funding. The young Strophes insisted that the outing was her treat and refused to let them spend any of their own money on the finery they returned with that evening. There was never a silent moment with Julia; always making conversation, pointing out landmarks and talking of current events. If she noticed the constant scrutiny the group was under from all those around them she didn't show it.

(Thanks to this little shopping trip you can wear more or less whatever you damn well please from now on. You may also take this opportunity to try and acquire equipment, though the further away from clothing and adornments something is in nature the harder it will be to find. Money is not an issue, but PM me with what you're after. You've also each ended up with a Aethyr Weave outfit for the party in two days time. The details of it are up to you, though Julia would have done her best to dress the acolytes fashionably. You have also been given data-slates containing a map of the hive for some 30km around House Strophes along with several rough layouts of the Western portions of Sibellus' middle hive which, along with Julia's ongoing tutoring, allows you to find your way around with only a little difficulty.)

Cryvus: Your research is facilitated by the small library that Luarent maintains within his home.

Spoiler:

House Strophes is part of the Machenko Dynasty, an extended family organised strictly along hereditary lines in the manner of the old houses. It was also subject to a significant scandal seventy-five years ago, though such words understate the severity of what happened. The dynasty's patriarch, Lord Scelestes Machenko, was accused of witchcraft, heresy and impiety and was subsequently burned at the stake. The dynasty fell with him, its estates invaded by rival families and its wealth confiscated by the Administratum. It is in this time that Great Uncle Thallus distinguished himself, proving his family's piety and the legitimacy of their businesses. Thus House Strophes escaped the ruin that the Machenko Dynasty endured, though since then the latter has rebuilt itself while keeping its records scrupulously clean. The source of the Dynasty's newfound wealth is not commented upon, though it is clear where House Strophes' assets lie: it has several holdings along the Western edge of the hive, the majority producing sea-faring vessels of varying quality. It seems that House Strophes now stands somewhat apart from the rest of the Dynasty due to events some 15 years ago when the Inquisition conducted inquiries into their affairs. Laurent, having recently retired from the Navy to raise his daughter after the death of his wife Calista, aided one Inquisitor Skane in these inquiries which led to the discovery of tech-heresy in a rival family within the Dynasty. While officially he was commended by his fellows for rooting out the corrupt elements of their house Cryvus gets the impression that Laurent had not endeared himself to his peers.

The acolytes slept well that night, the quarters they had been allocated utterly outstripping anything they had ever encountered before. Servants would respond to summons and fetch them anything they could imagine while remaining distant at other times. Laurent had ensured that nobody would intrude into their affairs, the entire wing of the house being their private base of operations. They did receive a communication before they retired, however. Orday had agreed to meet with them in the middle hive at a drinking hole named The Barking Saint.

---

The following day, in the middle hive.

It took Crisis, Gunner and Mikolas more than an hour to travel from the Strophes' estate to the nearest passage leading to Sibellus' mid-hive. As they approached the opening to the city below the polished tile floors and decadent wall carvings slowly gave way to old cracked pavements and featureless grey walls. A line of heavily armed green-coated Magistratum troops bearing long ornately embellished poles ending in brilliant glass lanterns awaited them at the top of a massive spiralling series of broken stairs that stretched down into the darkness below. They acolytes were eyed with a mixture of amusement and contempt as they passed by. Tarnished pipes lined the stairwell, sputtering blue flames emerging from cracks to light their way. As they descended the sound of heavy machinery churning in the distance rose to greet them, as does the harsh creaking of stone.

The stairwell soon levelled off, eventually opening up onto a small courtyard filled with grey-robed workers, hawkers offering various stick-impaled meats of dubious origin, children with badges signifying which messenger guild they they work for dashing about carrying missives and a priest wearing flame emblazoned robes spraying spittle on those about him as he exhorted them all to give up their licentious ways. The floor shuddered with the constant activity activity of the middle-hives factoria, stone dust continually filtering down from the countless tonnes of compacted broken masonry above their heads. What little light there was emanated from guttering tallow candles set in a wide variety of twisting and ancient metal fixtures coated in millennia of wax. The scent of loam was heavy in the still air and the shadows were long.

According to their maps the Barking Saint was a few hours journey on here on foot, the rail lines that criss-crossed the hive not stretching up to heights such as these. Orday had not specified an exact time for them to meet him and, as such, the middle-hive lay open for them to explore, if they so wished.

---

House Strophes

Brother Gear, Cryvus and Mithras were enjoying a late breakfast when they were summoned to the chamber they had been introduced to Laurent in the other day. Their ally from the Adepta Sororitas had finally presented herself and wished to meet with them. They arrived to find the older Strophes and his daughter already in attendance, conversing quietly with a woman wearing the white robes of one of the Orders Dialogous. While she appeared to be just entering her fourth decade of life her hair was uniformly grey, perhaps dyed as part of her commitment to her order. Her appearance was somewhat marred by the left arm which she wore in a sling and the several fresh scars that marked the right side of her head. The conversation died instantly as the acolytes entered, the new arrival rising to greet them and making the sign of the aquila with her able hand.

"I must apologise for my tardiness. Complications arose during my visit to the Cathedral of Illumination, though the Emperor has ensured that I am fit to attend to my duties in Sibellus. I am Sister Masha Aurelia of the Order of the Lexicon."

(Masha's player has dropped out due to offline events, thus she is now an NPC.)

[ChristianC]

Mithras had begun to enjoy the company of Julia past the initial shock, the woman was full of life, seemingly unaffected by the many horrors lurking in the Galaxy, hell-bent on consuming and destroying the Imperium of Man. It should have made him angry, and a part of him was wondering why this naivity was even tolerated amongst the people who supposedly 'ruled' as the elite, but he found it refreshing and uplifting, taking his mind somewhat off the horrors the galaxy had to offer.

The shopping trip went remarkably well, as Julia seemed an almost natural leader in the way that she cheerily bossed the acolytes around, and he found himself with several outlandish outfits that had, without hte insistence of Julia, been left hanging where he found them. He went primarily for outfits with military themes, sure that as a backwater Colonel, he'd most likely be a little too obsessed with regulations and his own standing, and as far as Aethyr Weave outfits went, he decided to go with a rather interesting choice that had to be specially tailored for him, but as they were on nigh-on unlimited funds...

At the summoning the next day, he headed there with a mixture of expectation and dread; this was an unknown element added to the group, and although he had never once met a woman from the many orders of the adepta sororitas, he held their status in great veneration, for they were well-known across the galaxy. He bowed his head to the woman as she presented herself, eyeing her injuries with a curious and concerned eye, but said nothing about them.

"I am Mithras Avelock, formerly sergeant of Dreah 23rd Regiment, 4th Company, 2nd Platoon, Squad 115." he extended his right arm in greeting, smiling slightly, "Welcome."

[Besyanteo]

Gunner, while appreciative of the hospitality shown to them by the Strophes, was glad to have some time away from Julia. She was very informative. Very.... very informative. So informative that it was very easy to learn all manner of things that you didn't actually ask to know. Not that he'd ever complain, but it was nice to be able to hear himself think again. It had been nice to see that Crisis got along with Brother Gear as he did with Mikolas. The more time passed, the more he wondered what he, Gunner, had done to be spared that constant bile. He'd been right, but he was going to have to wait until they off mission and see if he couldn't talk to Crisis about that attitude. This was definitely not that time, though. They were in the mid-hive now.

The place was as busy, as dirty and as ragged as he'd heard it would be, if not more. Hive worlds had a way of reminding him how very soft and safe life had been before he'd joined the inquisition. This place and home were like night and day. He wasn't particularly keen on exploring it, but he could see a few practical reasons to do so: Specifically, there were things you could locate and purchase down here that you wouldn't have access to in the Spires. Gunner was confident that he had everything he needed for now, but it was worth asking Crisis and Mik if they were similarly prepared.

"Ok guys, we've got some time probably. Anywhere you want to go?"

He waited for them to answer, confident that he knew the answer he'd receive from the one, and less certain of the other. Mik had brand new teeth, he might just want to go out and find some cheap favorite to break them in on. ... Hopefully not literally.

[Kelne]

"Cryvus Valnik," Cryvus said, sketching a small bow. The complications certainly seemed to have taken their toll, but far be it from him to question another's assessment of their own fitness for duty. Injuries aside, his impression of Sister Aurelia was a positive one. But then, he would hardly expect to form a negative opinion of somebody assigned to them by the Inquisitor.

[NamagomiMk0]

Crisis became, needless to say, increasingly nonplussed with Julia the longer the shopping trip went. It was not a bad thing that she was informative. It was not a bad thing she knew current fashions--given that they were to disguise themselves, it wouldn't have hurt.

What was a bad thing was that the girl lacked even a -shred- of pragmatism. Well, okay, there was a shred. He convinced her to break away from excess outfit buying long enough to look into flashproof photo-contacts. Useful things, those, especially given that he was going underhive; lighting was poor, to say the least, and any advantage helps in such an environment.

...It was when he brought up the issues of other equipment that she started to lose respect, fast, in Crisis' eyes. The assassin had a few rules when it came to pick clothing, all of which the Strophes girl seemed to ignore; all skin, and especially the face, must be covered. The armored cloak he wore MUST be incorprated. And the clothes themselves must not compromise mobility or dexterity. She insisted on breaking them regularly. In addition, while it was acceptable she did not know of most of the equipment, she knew where to get armor--but refused to go under the claim that "it would take too long". While she was rushing the Acolytes present into the next store for clothes. He pressed the issue, stating his reasoning logically on text, but Julia would have nothing to do with it.

The best he could get out of her was "later". And that later in question being some undisclosed time after the meeting underhive with Orday.


Julia Strophes, in Crisis' mind, had replaced the eccentric, annoying, but well-paying noble he had worked a short job under for the esteemed and prestigious position of Upper-Class Twit of the Year.



And so Crisis stood, getting accustomed to his vision under the photo-contacts. Faceless as always, he responded with the data slate to Gunner's inquiry:

'I propose we meet up with Orday ASAP. After this meeting, we could briefly scour the underhive for potential weaponry and ammunition buys before we return--but only briefly. I have vital business to attend to after this.'

[Jak Snide]

House Strophes

The woman looked at Mithras with amusement before taking his hand and shaking it. "I suppose we could be considered partners in this endeavour, though perhaps you should practice your bows some more."

Mithras:

Spoiler:

You notice two things as you step in to shake Masha's hand. First is her contracted pupils, suggesting that she's dosed up to her eyeballs on painkillers. The second is that there's something metallic coiled around her right arm, concealed beneath the voluminous robes she wears. You might also be slightly alarmed when it moves.

"Our gracious hosts have brought me up to speed on the matter at hand. I understand that we are to attend a soiree tomorrow so as to make good impressions with the right people. The question is who those people are and what you plan to do to impress them. Do we have a guest list or any information on who are the key players in the Joyous Choir?"

"It's not the done thing for the host to openly advertise who will be in attendance." Julia responded. "Of course, that doesn't prevent word from getting around, especially about the more prestigious guests. It's said that Lord Raephen Verence will be in attendance."

"A member of the Sector Lord's court, as well as a juvinat-softened, gaudy degenerate with a taste for the epicurean." Laurent interjected.

"Or so it is said. I do not believe that he has any vested interest in this cult, though it is something that would certainly appeal to one of his demeanour. At the very least it speaks volumes about the prominence of the Choir if a member of Hax's court is personally attending a party held in its honour. Who is the host?"

"Lady Tanae Borella. Saia mentioned her occasionally so I presume she's an established member rather than someone attempting to buy into their good graces."

"A person of key importance, then." The Sister returned her attention to the acolytes. "Have you formed any plans yet, or has social tutoring been monopolising your time until now?"

---

The Middle-Hive

Lacking anything else to do, the trio made their way towards the Barking Saint. They'd all experienced life in the lower levels of Sibellus, if only briefly in Gunner's case, but it was nothing compared to the constant press of the crowd that flowed through the mid-hive. Foot traffic slowed to a crawl at points, thousands shuffling forward one step at a time. At other times their route lead them into massive plazas, often the remnants of abandoned noble estates, which served as marketplaces or played host to guild houses or temples to various cults of the Imperial Creed. These had some semblance of proper lighting, most often large enclosed luminators running of portable generators. The rest of the mid-hive was lit as their initial point of entry was, the candlelight impairing long range vision and filling the air with the smell of burning animal fat.

After hours of travel they spied their destination. The Barking Saint's entrance was set within the mouth of a massive canine head that must have once belong to an immense statue. The head rested at a crooked angle against the shoulders against the shoulders of a supine form of a larger figure carved with the recognisable symbols of the Ecclesiarchy. As they drew near the young boy sat on the stool next to the door scribbled something down on an old writing pad.

"Welcome. The Barking Saint observes the rule of first drawn, unworn styles barred. You are so warned."

Mikolas:

Spoiler:

Your short stint doing mercenary work in Sibellus has paid off; you understand what the hell the kid is talking about. "First drawn" means that the initiator of any fight decides what weapons may be used when he draws his own. "No unworn styles," however, means that you can't pick a weapon type that your opponent isn't displaying openly. For example: If a man has nothing but a knife on him then punching him in the face is alright, and he can respond in kind. If you were to pull a stub revolver shoot him then you'd have broken the rules. "You are so warned" is the most important bit, though. Anyone who breaks the rules can be set upon, beaten, robbed and killed with impunity by anyone else within the bar. It's in this way that such establishments serve as neutral ground for unsavoury sorts since you'll never be outgunned.

The interior of the Barking Saint was formed from the same materials as its exterior: fallen masonry. Darkened alcoves of various shapes had been crudely hacked out of the stone or formed from mistmatched pieces of marble. There were no tables, just large chunks of stone that served in their place. A large, sweaty man served drinks from behind the central "bar"; a long piece of granite supported by the chopped off ends of two fluted columns. The place was packed with a motley assortment of hivers and the noisy thrum of conversation. Most were serious drinkers, largely guilders and factoria workers. One rough looking group huddled around a table in the corner playing a game of cards. Several joy girls worked the room, one of them eyeing the acolytes speculatively as they entered. The alcoves in the wall were curtained, their occupants shrouded in darkness.

Crisis, Mikolas:

Spoiler:

You can detect the faint smell of obscura in the air.

[ChristianC]

He gave a slightly sheepish nod in apology, feeling that giving a bow now would just be stupid... but he'd make sure to show her proper respect the next time he'd see her. "O-of course, sister..."

He listened attentively to Laurent and Julia, then nodded thoughtfully.

"My apologies, we have not had time to consider those who will be attending the... soiree." he looked to Gear and Cryvus before continuing, shooting sister Marsha's arm an odd look before continuing, "...we should not discount this Lord Raephen Verence, it might be that he is involved, or perhaps on the way of becoming involved... either way, as you say, his interest may coincide with those of the cult."

[Capntastic]

Mik breathed a bit easier, finding himself in more comfortable surroundings. He strode to the bar, nodded to the barman, and flashed, for the first time in over a decade, a complete grin.

"What's good, today, friend?"

[Jak Snide]

The Barking Saint

Mikolas may have been pleased by the barman's reaction to his new, clean dentures. The man looked up from the pamphlet he was reading and stared for a good half second before responding.

"Business, but that's always good at the Barking Saint. What's your pleasure, stranger?" he asked, leaning forward and resting one elbow on the bar and less than subtly glancing past Mikolas at the other two acolytes. One of the joy girls was sauntering towards them, lips pouted.

"You boys looking for someone?" she asked sweetly.

[Capntastic]

"What's in the kegs, eh?" Mik was grinning, though having a full set of choppers was slightly disorienting. Words didn't seem to come out the same.

[Jak Snide]

The Barking Saint

"Ruby Dubble, Tribles Brown and Cranky Tongue. Half-Scint a glass all round, most will take the shine off those pretty teeth of yours."

Crisis:

Spoiler:

You've observed these sorts before, and usually dismissed them off-hand, but this Joy Girl's attention strikes you as off. There are far likelier customers in the bar than you.

---

House Strophes

Masha bowed her head in acknowledgement of Mithras. "It would be prudent to gather what information you can beforehand. Knowledge is power. What do we know of the Joyous Choir itself? Holdings? Key figures? Recent activities?"

[Capntastic]

"We'll enjoy a round of the Cranky Tongue, please."

He looked around for an open place for him and his associates to sit.

"And have you got any good snacks to go with?"

[Jak Snide]

The Barking Saint

The man lumbered over to one of the kegs and began to fill the order, filling a pewter mug with a black liquid.

"Corpse starch bars, if you haven't had your fill of them already. Got some dried meats from downhive. Dunno what meat, but it's the better tasting of the two. What brings you and yours down here, then?"

[Besyanteo]

Ok, a whore, Cranky Tongue, and maybe grisly snacks from the Underhive. It was weird to think that he was better able to handle slavering monstrosities from the warp than these simple things. However, he wasn't inexperienced with them either, thanks to the very same trip where he discovered the the former...

"I'm lookin for someone, yeah. Maybe you saw him come in? Older guy, in good shape, pony tail on top of his head, got some machines in his face and tattoos on his arms?"

With any luck, he wasn't terribly obvious here. He couldn't help expecting to hear Crisis frantically working his keypad at any moment, though.

[Jak Snide]

The Barking Saint

The woman's smile broadened. "Knew it wasn't companionship you came in here for. The old wolf is in the back, third turn that-a-way." She pointed towards the rear of the Barking Saint, away from the lights of the taproom.

[Kelne]

"We know little enough, I fear," Cryvus said, emerging from his own thoughts, "I would be very surprised indeed if the public authority figures were the movers and shakers; They would be the first to be rounded up in the event of exposure. The less they know of the better, from their hidden masters' perspective. Which does not make them innocent by any means, merely convenient and largely worthless scapegoats." Cryvus frowned, "A status which the cult in its entirety may well share from the perspective of the xenos." He shook off this consideration. The cult would be dealt with and as much as possible learned from them. Even if the xenos escaped unscathed, they would have lost a dagger aimed at the heart of Sibellus.

"Still, lies though the public information might be, it will still prove useful. In addition to the questions raised thus far, I would like to know about the cult's founder and his stated influences, any prominent common characteristics among his followers, and whatever may be known about their finances. What does the cult spend their copious donations on, and do the numbers match up?"

"We have the rest of the morning to devote to gathering together whatever information we may, but I would leave you with one thought to bear in mind: The Joyous Choir is still a young cult, as yet unrecognised by the Ecclesiarchy and with a membership base among a notoriously fickle group. To come this far, it must have received backing, both in terms of funding and influence. We could learn a great deal from who those early backers were."

[ChristianC]

Mithras nodded when Cryvus spoke up, pleased that the elderly man took the initiative, as the soldier feared his own retelling would doubtlessly miss certain key-points that the elderly man had made. The original backers, indeed, would be necessary to investigate, as was the nature and origins of these xeno-artifacts... could any of the hated enemies of man truly be behind this? ...it was not impossible, and the thought chilled him.

[Jak Snide]

House Strophes

The mention of xenos evoked different reactions from the everyone in the room. Julia looked uncomfortable, such things being entirely foreign to her. Laurent's expression darkened, perhaps in response to some memory of a naval action. Sister Masha merely touched the aquila hung around her neck.

"Such information would be most enlightening. An unsanctioned cult does, however, lacks the degree of transparency of the recognised ones. The Ministorum will have records on them, but I doubt they will be of much substance. The Administratum might prove more reliable," a faint smile drifted across Masha's face, "but we do not have the means to coerce anything from them in a timely manner. We could simply go and ask the Choir itself, of course. The interest and promise of a substantial investment from an off-world noble might loosen tongues, even if they are from Fenksworld. It might even be a simple matter of asking around." She paused, her gaze drifting over each of the acolytes in turn. Brother Gear bowed his head in response.

"What course of action do you believe would be best?" she asked.

(Ben, due to real life happenings, is bowing out for the immediate future. Brother Gear shall be NPC'd until his return.)

[Besyanteo]

Gunner nodded quickly to the girl and said thanks, already headed for Mik, to relay what he and Crisis had learned. He'd let Mik fetch them whatever first, of course, but as soon as they had it he was hauling the lot of them to meet with Orday. No reason to keep the man waiting any longer than necesary.

[NamagomiMk0]

Crisis was not completely unused to underhive conditions--having done a few jobs there, he was in a less than completely alien environment. However, things were such that the assassin still desired to stay on guard. He had to suppress the urge to keep his hand near one of the three guns on his person, and the faceless mask hid an analytical look as he sized up the varied clientele of the Barking Saint. Size, apparent build, armor, weapons. He took in details the same way he did back on his old ship. The new weapons were still somewhat unwieldy to him, the assassin not having trained as heavily with pistols as he has with longarms, but he knew enough on the specifications to keep his trust in them.

He stood and kept watch on the people as he listened to Mikolas' interaction with the barman. He seemed to at least not be looking for a fight. For once. The implication that he'd be forced to drink--moreso take off his mask and drink--for the sake of socializing, however, was not something he enjoyed. They were on a mission, not at a party, or whatever Mikolas seemed to think it was. They were on Skane's time, Skane's armaments, Skane's clothes, and Skane's money. Therefore, as he would predict, they were expected to first and foremost do the job that Skane gave them, to the maximum of their ability.

The girl in particular seemed to set Crisis off--she seemed to have more of an idea than one of her profession should, to him. Fortunately, Gunner managed to handle that. Hopefully, he'd handle most of the conversation with Orday, hopefully without Mikolas butting his head into situations. However...trust was anything but easy here, and with that in Crisis' mind, he stayed alert, knowing that it could easily be a trap to get at what appear to be three decently-armed servants of a noble...and also knowing full well that one or more amongst the crowd could attack with little provocation, given apparently how freely the alcohol flowed in there...

[Kelne]

"I believe Brother Gear's cover is best suited to making a few discreet enquiries of the cult," Cruvus said, "As something that has caught the attention of his fickle masters." Life, Cryvus reflected, was full of the unexpected. Up until today, he would never have applied the label 'fickle master' to himself. Nor, he suspected, would anyone else. Still, the label did apply to his cover, and it was something he would do well to remember.

"Finances and secret backers, alas, must remain the subject of informed speculation for now." Neither was the kind of thing the Joyous Choir would look kindly on people wandering in to ask questions about.

[Capntastic]

Mik handed Gunner a glass of Cranky Tongue, and grinned.

"Let's go."

As he shuffled past Crisis, he made to fork over the third glass of the stuff.

[Jak Snide]

The Barking Saint

The acolytes, fresh drinks in hand, made their way to the booth that the joy girl had indicated. Gunner led the way, pushing aside the curtain to reveal the man who must be Orday. He certainly fitted the description; a grizzled man of some 50 years of age, greying hair, minor augmentations to his head and tattoos weaving down both of his arms. He held his own drink in one hand, the mug rested on the table, while the other held a bolt pistol pointed directly at Gunner's face. He grinned without humour, teeth like a lightning flash in the darkness of the alcove.

"Looking for someone?"

---

House Strophes

The priest nodded in agreement, putting on a refined accent and promising "to do my utmost to obtain the information my master requires."

"What of the two distinguished members of the gentry?" the Sister asked. "Continued tutorship in the ways of the nobility, or perhaps some hands on experience?"

[Besyanteo]

Somehow, Orday's description didn't lead one to believe that he looked as good as he did. Very fit, very alert, and he looked more like a grizzled 40 than 50. He was also pretty quick on the draw, and pointing a bolt pistol at Gunner's face. That was almost to be expected, though, and could definitely be worse: He suspected that Crisis wouldn't have dealt with things well if it had been him in Gunner's place. None of that was relevant right now, though. What mattered right now was getting that bolter pointed somewhere else.

Quietly, Gunner replied:
"Vorlin Orday. House Strophes tells us that you may have something that interests us."

[Jak Snide]

The Barking Saint

The bounty hunter lowered his weapon, gesturing to booth around them. "Have a seat. Claris is good at sizing people up, but it pays to be cautious."

"So," he began again once the acolytes had seated themselves, "you're the new hirelings for Strophes, eh? Too far in to get out again easy, or you still got a chance to turn down whatever trouble the old man's going to send you at?"

[ChristianC]

Mithras gave what could have passed as a shrug, albeit a small one, and glanced at Cryvus, folding his arms.

"It may be unwise for us to attempt to mingle our way into this sect directly. I am posing as a colonel from a backwater place that hasn't seen much action, but not much social interaction aside from with fellow officers. We can probably be excused some of our faults, but I trust our hosts can determine if we make for passable nobles or not." he gave the two Strophes a nod and unfolded his arms, putting his hands in front of him, knitting his fingers briefly. "We have been taught a lot, so perhaps it would be best to test what we know... but I don't want to risk the mission just to find out if we..." he thought for a brief moment and then added, "well, if we don't know what's the vogue."

[Jak Snide]

House Strophes

"I think you've grasped enough of the basics to risk exposing you to polite society." Julia said with a smile, recovering some of her exuberance. "You'll come across as amusingly awkward at worst."