The WH40k RP - Talio Secundus

[Monroe]

Octavian grinded his teeth for a few moments. In his mind's eye he accepted the large stone jug from the feral then proceeded to slam it against the man's face then as the prick fell to the floor he would continue to beat him until his face was bashed in. How tempting... Octavian's eyes glanced to the Imperial seal in the room then back to the woman. "Alright, fine. Let's all hold hands and fucking sing a joyous song to our savior."

The woman continued to glare at him.

"Well Stig, I was going to offer to take someone of your persuasion to the officer bar to see what the stuck up pricks thought but you ever raise a fucking hand to me again and I'll fucking jam it up your ass so far you'll be massaging your tonsils."

"Fop you don't scare me." Stig replied and then held up the drink.

Octavian glared at him for a few moments then grinned, "You're alright." He laughs and pats the feral hard on the shoulder. "I had meant what was your last name earlier. What about you sister? Which position would you perfer to have your snatch branded? And with a vowel of silence can you still whimper and moan?"

[Aaron]

Stig's face broke into a wide grin, "Ah, we don't have last names. Other than the name of our clan, mine was Bloodfist. You may call me either." Glancing over at the Sister he added "I'm not sure she's one for that kind of fun my friend, perhaps we can find a decent brothel when we finally hit dirt?"

Lowering his voice Stig bent his head to Octavian's ear, "I hear rumours in the mess that there is a storage room where the crew keeps a few lasses for their entertainment. When we finish here we should seek it out. I wager we can trade some of this mead for a slice of pie."

Straightening back up Stig, ran his fingers through his beard and gestured for Octavion to share his bench.

[Tsukiyumi]

As Pahr stepped through the doors into the hall, he paused to silently kneel before the statue of the God-Emperor before slipping into the shadows along the wall. None of them seemed to notice his entry; the feral sniffed the air, perhaps smelling the remaining astringent, but only shrugged and took a pull from his bottle. An aura of hostility hung around the assembled group; all but the aesthetically pleasing young Sister and the older fellow leaning against the opposite wall appeared ready to kill at a moment's notice.

Good, Pahr thought, they may be useful after all. May the Emperor's will be served.

The Sister turned, wisps of pale white hair falling across her face, and paused when she saw him. She met his eyes, and surprisingly, returned his stare. Most women would have winced or recoiled at the sight of him, but she merely nodded serenely. He returned the gesture, and folded his arms across his chest as she turned away.

The band gathered here was an odd assortment, for sure. The older man quietly reading opposite Pahr carried an assortment of medical devices; clearly a healer, something Pahr knew would be needed on this assignment. The feral seemed rough and unkempt, but he knew from experience that they were adept at tracking and evasion, and fierce fighters when cornered. The Sister's age was a small concern to Pahr; she looked to be no older than sixteen, but she couldn't have risen as far as she had without devotion and skill. The high-born could be a liability; since entering, Pahr had heard nothing but foul language and sensed the expected self-superiority native to nobles coming from the man in waves. Still, his demeanor indicated he was at least capable, and Trask wouldn't have chosen him if he were inept.

Which brought his thoughts to the Interrogator. From what he'd read, Pahr knew he was highly skilled and utterly dedicated to the Word of the Emperor. He was passionate, and his accomplishments were impressive. Pahr was sure his doubts would vanish once the "Flame Bringer" began his sermon.

If they did not, the lash would surely silence them later.

[Mikey]

"That will be enough." The words cut through the brawling and conversation like a lance array through a shuttle as Trask appeared from behind the shrine in the ship's chapel. He was used to giving sermons to platoons jumping on grav-chutes out of Valkyries and Vultures; he scarcely had to raise his voice to immediately grab everyone's attention. Everyone but Stig turned to look, with Octavian wondering exactly how long Trask had been observing them; the feral alone seemed completely unconcerned, without any awareness that drinking and roughhousing weren't the expected etiquette. Milo stepped to the small lectern in front of the shrine and continued in a subdued but powerful voice, "Each of us has been gifted with the chance to serve the Emperor's Holy Inquisition. Such fighting among us is merely the laughter of His enemies." There was enough menace in Trask's tone that everyone sat down in the pews of the chapel unbidden. Trask paused a moment, letting everyone settle. He cut a figure as stern as his voice - his lean, rawboned face framed by severely cropped copper hair and beard, and his simple black cassock and olive drab cloak set off only by the gold aquila hanging on his chest and the deep blue enamel on the hilt of his chainsword and the grip of his bolt pistol. His half sleeves revealed on his forearms the tattooed markers of each of his combat drops with the Tahnelian Airborne. An Inquisitorial rosette peeped from under the cloak, but could obviously be covered at need. His face remained impassive, but the gleam in his pale blue natural right eye was as harsh as that in the dark crystal and metal of his augmetic left eye. "In your quarters aboard this ship," Trask continued, "you have been left pict- and data-slates detailing the history of Narchana's heresy and the Inquisitorial proceedings against him. If you haven't familiarized yourselves with that information, you will have the following half-hour to do so." Stig looked around absently; there was no use handing him a data-slate, and everything he needed to know had been taught to him while Geron conducted the feral's gentle indoctrination into the wider galaxy at large. "Pahr," Trask went on, fixing his stare with some difficulty on the assassin despite how well Pahr was hidden in the deep shadows, "the orders you have been given come directly from the Officio Assassinorum. I do not ask for loyalty to me, but to the will of the Golden Throne."

"Talio Secundus is a hive world, dominated by three primary hives, one on each major continent; a number of secondary hives, built around manufacturing sites; and some small areas of mining and refining. In addition, in a number of isloated valleys in the mountain ranges there lives a small and insular Ogryn population." As Octavian began a rude comment, Trask went on, "These Ogryns generally keep to themselves, but have fearlessly and faithfully served the Emperor as Imperial Guard shock troops. In any event, there is probably no need to come into contact with the primitives. In the main hives there are strong Ecclesiarchical presences, mercantile outfits, a relatively powerful PDF, and - in the more depressed and neglected areas - dissident elements and gangs. We are headed for Sociona province, on the equatorial continent, which is one such depressed area. This situation breeds the type of people who will have the information we seek. Our initial goals are simple: to meet with our captain on the ground and establish a base of operation, and to begin finding our avenues of information without revealing our investigation."

"Figures we couldn't find a place with a few more... creature comforts," Naja muttered under his breath to Stig.

"We are tools of the Emperor's justice, Lord Naja," Trask said, twisting the word "lord" into a sneer. "We go where His will dictates. Where you of the Guard were once the blade of His sword, you are now His stiletto - His scalpel, with which to excise the taint of heresy. Would you rather not serve?" Octavian looked away from Trask's withering stare, but Karibi perked up at the mention of the tools of his trade. "Make no mistake, baron - I will have special need of your particular skills in this first part of our endeavor. We will be leaving by shuttle in one hour - in 50 minutes, we will assemble in the flight deck for check-in and a reading from the Book of St. Lucius of Agatha. After we conclude here, I'd like a full report on the dealings of the Adeptus Astra Telepathica in the Talio system, Novice Incartarus." The novice sister had been staring at the floor, half-listening and half in prayer, but started at the tone of suspicion in Trask's voice. "Are there any questions?" Milo concluded.

[Monroe]

Octavian walked out of the meeting as the Interrogator left. "He pressumes to place an indicator on my fucking behavior when naught for a ill concieved campaign nor tardiness to my person that he were to see errors in my loyality. A Knight Errant for the Empire I have always proclaimed myself to be. Have I not shown amicalble manners in all manner of dispostions of my fucking person?"

Stig shrugged a bit as he walked next to Naja. "Yes?"

"Damn right I have. Let's get our pricks rubbed by some strange. Where did you say they were?"

"They keep a few in the back of the baracks Octavian." Stig said and pointed to the direction.

[Deepcrush]

Tof kicked the bed causing Enrick too snap awake and draw his plasma pistol. Aiming right at Tof's chest. Tof smiled "Wake up. You only have about an hour till they land and I got the site ID'ed. It'll take you about twenty minutes to get there by transit." Enrick rolled to the edge and placed his feet on the cold floor. Looking up at Tof, Enrick smirked. "I guess it would be too much trouble for them too find us on their own." Tof laughed and walked out of the bedroom. "IF those boys could find us on their own, then so could anyone else. Not a very sound thought for me, seeing how this is my home." "This job is the shit of the line..." "Yeah, but you love the pay. Get moving, I've got your gear ready in the armory."

Enrick took his time getting dressed. Basic BDUs with his half-carapace plate, minus the helm. Finished by gloves and a long trench coat for 'cover' from the rain. Plus any peeking eyes. Tof handed Enrick an AutoPistol and combat shotgun. Light gear kit, just incase he needed to blend in. "Guess you're not letting me take my own toys?" Said Enrick as he looked at the weaponry given from Tof.

Tof shook his head. "Not this time, stay out of site. No good if you get those travel agents lost or worse, noticed on the way in. Aunt Gem would pick you for the next year." Tof handed Enrick a mag for his shotgun's under barrel.

"Oh so fun, she'll spend that time reminding us all how she'd never failed an Op." Enrick said almost in an old grandpa story kind of way. "What's the mag?" Enricked asked as he slapped in the fresh magazine.

Tof smiled. "A little treat if you run into anyone wearing armor and you don't 'agree' with them on anything. Five HighHeat slugs. Solid shot. Just like what you got for Aunt Gem. Only these are as I said, solid shot slugs. No spread. Better aim when you shoot these. I don't have but a hundred of them."

Enrick hooked the shotgun under his coat and headed out. Waving to Aunt Gem as he left. Though she was mostly sleeping and snoring she did give a muddled "ok bye" as he left. It was raining outside, again, just like most every other day. Enrick made his was back to the tram station to catch a ride to the stop nearest the drop zone. A small aeroport which the higher ups had picked. The long ride was made easy since this tram wasn't going to make many stops on the way. "These guys had better be worth all this crap."

[Aaron]

Stig left Octavion at the "entertainment" closet at the crew barracks and went to collect what remained of his gear. Most of it was just stuff he had picked up over the years during his quest for vengeance or odds and ends he had managed to salvage from his tribe's settlement. Worthless to anyone who hadn't grown up on a feral penal world, still you never know what might be useful at any given time.

Stuffing another piece of jerky into his maw, he headed for the shuttle bay, passing many of the crew on his way. Most of the proper spacers gave him a wide berth, while the indentured ones looked at him with a mixture of fear and hope. Perhaps they hoped he would be able to get them off this death barge, Stig cared not. Slavery had been common on Home and these wretches had done more than most to deserve that fate.

Finding himself at the shuttle bay, he hesitated before entering. He did not enjoy heights, or travelling on something that was not under his control. Still the priest in charge of this expedition had assured him that such things were required and the Emperor would watch over them. Cold comfort as far as he was concerned, the Emperor was a chill and distant God and Stig found that he often helped those who looked after themselves.

Finding a nearby landing claw to relax against, he tried to relax the best he could. With booze.

[Reliant121]

Galatea hurried to catch up to Trask, dodging the staring slaves that had been delegated to this ship. Several of them backed against the wall when she went past, recognising the uniform instantly. It instilled fear in the criminals and viles that made up the crew, and they did not want to get on the bad side of a 7 ft tall hulk. Not that Galatea herself was that hulking. The suit did that all for her.

"Inquisitor Trask!" She called down the hall, her deep voice resounding off of the walls. He turned, recognising the rare sound of a female voice instantly. After noting that it was her who called, he began toward her. His face remained desolate and cold, only twinging slightly as she approached, towering above him.

"What is it, Sister?" he asked gruffly. He called her sister out of respect, even if she wasnt actually a sister as yet. She made a note of that, and decided he was deserving of her respect too.

"My lord, i have compiled a report of the Adaptus Astra Telepathica," She said formally. He nodded, indicating for her to continue alongside him.

"Well then, lets hear it," He said softly.

"The Telepathica's dealings in the Talio system have not been major. The routine psyker sweeps that occur every so often, The occasional patrol of a ship under our dominion. That said, one item is deserving of special mention. 2 districts of Talio Secundus, via some unkown administrative error, were not sweeped. They are Aquiliaro...and Sociona." She reported. He remained silent for a moment, then turned to her.

"Thankyou sister. I would suggest you prepare for departure, we have not long left."

She bowed her head to him, and turned down the corridor.

[Monroe]

"And then he procured a document showing elicit conduct on my behalf in the c**t fucker's tilage." Octavian was telling the whore as her head bobbed up and down in his lap. "So a warrant was issued by the cocksucker and a bribe was set at five thousand credits. I bet that is more fucking money than your dull dim witted eyes have ever seen?" He looked down at her. She paused and began to pull up, "Don't you fucking stop. And don't use any fucking teeth. Where is that Stig vagabond character? He was suppose to be fucking here. I paid for two." Naja looked over to the other whore who was just standing there. "You need a fucking bath, you reek of cat piss." He yelled at the other one. "You know what I can't do this, you're horrible too." He said pressing his palm against her forehead to get her to rise. Standing he fastened his pants and brushed aside her.

"You smell like cat piss and dirty cunts. I'd rather stick my iron into a cogboy." Octavian then spat in front of them. Another place, another time he'd have stuck his knife into them right there and then.

"Please sir don't be angry with us." The one who had her mouth around him said frowning.

"Angry?" He asks then punched her sending her sprawling onto the ground next to the chair he had been sitting in. "I'll fucking draw and quarter you if you choose to have discourse with me again. You only have one purpose in life and you fucked it up. Get out of my sight you worthless strange before I show more of my animus feelings towards you cunts." He turned and left the barracks. Maybe on the world he'd have some down time. He checked his watch. Fifteen minutes to get to the hanger. Best to head to his quarters and grab his things.

Some of the other crew seemed like they would be agreeable company. The sister seemed worthless. But the doctor had its uses, as all doctors do in time. Stig would be a good man to have on his side in case things needed disappearing outside his area of expertise. That strange shadowy type seemed easy to manipulate if the need ever arose. And the Interrogator had a pair of balls and not a fucking moron that Octavian seemed to be fated to surround his life witih.

[Mikey]

"'...and let us be the bringers of His message and the insturments of His vengeance.'" Milo closed the old leatherbound book, handed it to a serf on the flight deck, and stepped back into the interior of the shuttle as the entry ramp ground shut with a puff of smoke and the jolt of old hydraulics. He looked around - Galatea had listened in somber silence; Pahr still had his eyes half-closed in religious rapture; Karibi had paid attention somewhat, as did Naja, although the high-born seemed to rather be somewhere else; and the feral paid due attention to the more basic religious tenets, although the finer points of canon seemed to be beyond him. Milo forced himself to accept the varying degrees of respect for the Imperial Church, although it left a bitter taste in his mouth - he needed loyal servants of the Inquisition, not the laity of an Imperial diocese. Besides, he had seen first-hand what devotion to the Church could lead to when a Church official was, in fact, corrupted by the taint of the Ruinous Powers.

An alarm sounded, and Milo took his place on the grav couches next to the rest of the retinue and locked down his restraining harness. There was a moment of free-fall as the launch bay opened and the restraining clamps released the shuttle; then, the passengers were all pressed into their seats as the shuttle's engines thundered on and the craft shot from the flight deck. As soon as they acheived steady atmospheric flight, the harnesses released. "Dr. Karibi, please fit everyone with their vox-beads," Trask said. Karibi rose and rummaged through a pouch, grimacing with distaste as he looked at the novice and the Culexus and realizing he would have to come close to touching them. "Stig," Trask continued, "the doctor is going to put a small device in your ear - it won't hurt a bit, and will allow us to communicate with each other." As Stig returned a belligerently confused stare, Trask went on, "The Emperor's enemies will try to drive us apart. This small device will allow His will to keep us in touch." Stig relaxed only slightly.

"We will split up on arrival," Trask addressed the group. "Our operative on the ground will provide directions to our meeting place. Pahr, Galatea, and Stig will go with him as you three will need a more... covert route. Karibi and Naja will go with me, and we will all rendezvous at the given location. We have some misgivings about the state of the administration of Sociona province, so until we establish ourselves at the meeting location and plan our first forays, there will be NO contact with the locals. Understood?"

Naja alone appeared dissatisfied with the orders, but said nothing. Stig grunted as Karibi fitted him with his vox-bead and started as it emitted a quick hiss of static - causing Karibi to back off - but appeared mollified as Trask voxed a quick message to demonstrate its operation. Karibi moved on to Naja, then the novice. He finished as quickly as he could, rubbing his hands as if they were icy cold after touching her, then approached Pahr. The assassin sat stock still, but Karibi had to steel himself twice in order to just approach the "blank" and then looked like he was about to weep as he actually made the adjustments to the device in Pahr's ear. Trask understood the doctor's uncomfortableness, but Pahr was the ultimate weapon against the enemy which they would ultimately face. "Faith, doctor," said Milo, and made the sign of the aquila across his chest.

"Lock down," came the voice over the speaker from the cockpit. "Beginning descent - we'll be down in four minutes."

[Aaron]

Stig was not impressed with the doctor sticking whatever it was in his ear but was rapidly distracted by the shuttles descent into the atmosphere, he did not enjoy flight, preferring to meet death on firm ground or at least a river. Still it would be over shortly and then he could get on with the business of slaying the Emperor's enemies, hopefully finding some mead or a good head of cheese in the process. Looking over at the people he would soon be entrusting his life to, he felt a brief surge of doubt, a glance at the womans meltagun soon quelled that. Whatever his companions where or where not and whatever his enemies where, the prescence of such a weapon would allow them to emerge victorious.

A look at the strange fanatical man confirmed his gut instinct, he was not a witch but the kind that were often found near tribal chiefs to protect them from the witchs and shamans of rival tribes. He would indeed be useful. Rummaging around in a pocket, Stig extracted a small and fragrent flower and placed it in his mouth. Muttering a quiet prayer to the All Father he relaxed as the familiar feel of the plants necter clear his mind and chase the linf=gering doubts away. Whatever awaited them on this rock, he would be ready.

[Mikey]

The shuttle was buffeted and bounced by the turbulence in the polluted atmosphere over one of the played-out mining and manufacturing districts of Talio Secundus. Although the team was headed for the hive representing the capital of Sociona province, it was really more of a central sprawl of connected buildings surrounded by various shanties and fungal outgrowths of architecture. Even at their altitude, as they passed over it could be seen as an amorphous blob unlike the towering hive citadels of thriving urban centers. The shuttle began to veer off from its relatively straight descent; the landing field for which the shuttle was headed was barely close enough to Sociona Prima, as the makeshift city was called, to qualify as the outskirts, and Trask breathed a silent prayer that transportation would be forthcoming. If not, it would be an hour's walk or more through a strange urban sprawl.

As the shuttle's bank began to subside, a gale of a crosswind pushed the craft sideways and began to roll it. The view from the port side windows began to fill with the parched ground and ramshackle airfield all too quickly. The pilot-servitor emitted strange alarms and whirrs, and the shuttle groaned under the stress on the hull. The landing skids ground down, and the shuttle righted itself only to begin to plummet straight down. The team was pressed into the restraints on the grav-couches; Galatea and Pahr deep in meditation, Naja and Karibi grim-faced but stoic, Trask seemingly unaffected - used as he was to jumping out of aircraft - and Stig white-faced with fear and anger at whatever machine spirit allowed this to happen.

Finally the engines thundered back to life, and the shuttle levelled and shot forward. Craning his neck against g-forces, Trask turned to the nearest viewport to see that they were mere meters off the tarmac. Screaming into the vox panel in the wall, he ordered the pilot-servitor to cut the engines once more. With a final beep of warning, the servitor obeyed and the shuttled's momentum carried it on an angled descent to the ground. The impact was like a hammer meeting an anvil and nobody moved as the the shuttle squealed along the airstrip, throwing storms of sparks from the landing skids grating against the blacktop. For an instant, Trask had a vision of the entire craft engulfed in a fireball of burning promethium, then quickly chided himself for not trusting to the Emperor's protection. As the shuttle finally ground to a halt, listing on a broken skid, the exit ramp ground open amid a cloud of steam. The harnesses snapped open, and everybody exited - but nobody before Stig. The feral crouched, holding his palms against the ground, and Trask turned to see wisps of smoke and streams of oil coming from the burned-out pilot-servitor. Milo led the team in a short prayer of thanks to the Emperor for their deliverance, and looked around. "Now, where's that damned stormtrooper?" he asked, half to himself, as a slighlty dazed and sleepy-looking local customs officer approached the smoking craft from the low control hut of the airfield.

"Unscheduled landing," the man said, with all the wit of a grox. "Who are you, and what's your business?" The man's eyes widened as he came closer, making out the forms of the buckskin-wearing feral and the armored novice. "You ain't from around here, are you?"

"No, we're not," Trask said imperiously, hiding his Inquisitorial rosette under his cloak but exposing the golden aquila. "But we are expected. Milo Trask, missionary of the Imperial Church. The cardinal of this world no longer leaves it to fate to ensure the spiritual well-being of the outlying provinces."

"Cardinal Diem," said the man with some surprise, "has always shown concern with all of Talio Secundus, not just the main hives."

"Erm... indeed," answered Trask. "And that is why we are here. Now, has my escort arrived? A local trooper?"

"Not yet, sir," said the dull-witted official, duly impressed by the team's holy writ.

[Deepcrush]

"Not yet, sir," said the dull-witted official, duly impressed by the team's holy writ.

As the custom officer went to turn away from the newcomers, his chest burst. A high caliber low volocity rifle shell having struck him from behind. Blood and bone splashed Trask. The strange contrast between the warm insides of the man and the cold drenching rain. There was no flash, no sound. Just the spray. The corpse went limp and fell on what was left of its chest.

Enrick dropped the spent shell casing and eyed the field. Whispering to himself "Anyone else see you fools?" Enrick couldn't see anyone but felt it would be best to let the newcomers make the next move. "Go ahead and talk to everyone why don't you..."

[Aaron]

Stig dived for the cover of the shuttles nearby landing gear at the sound of the shot, dragging his shotgun clear, searching for a target.

Letting off a stream of profanity, mostly involving mothers and highly unpleasent and improbable actions which also included "get down fragheads!" he started searching for a likely location of the sniper, not knowing if they would be next or if this was some part of the plan that the priest had neglected to mention in his briefing.

"Anyone see where that came from?" He bellowed, forgetting the vox-bead at his ear and throat.

[Monroe]

Octavian hit the dirt as well, pushing the body of the slain customs agent onto its side to provide a little more cover, "The cocksucker didn't pass my field of vision either. But I'd warrant a suspicion that the lethal bolt hailed from that direction with a callus intent for the dim witted and dulled eyed agent and not ill advised harm directed at us."

"Why you say that?" Stig asked scanning the terrain around them.

"Because our Interrogator friend would have been the likely target for rogue agents intending to deliver our souls to the Emperor." Octavian replied but didn't stand up to test his theory.

Trask nodded from behind the landing pad, "A logical assumption. Test it."

Octavian looked as if he was about to resist when he nodded mumbling under his breath, not directed at Trask personally, but how Octavian should play dumb sometimes. Standing up slowly he lifted his gun to his side to make sure the sniper could see it before tossing it onto the ground next to the dead agent. Lifting his hands to his shoulder length he waited. "Now this cocksucker better show himself an amicable mind."