The WH40k RP - Talio Secundus

[Deepcrush]

Enrick retired his sniper rifle and readied his shotgun. Seeing the man come out of cover, what cover they had at least. That was enough for Enrick. Plus he already knew who they were. "Coming out, too your east!" Shotgun raised, Enrick slipped out of cover. His trench coat dripping wet and muddy. Crouched at first just incase anyone wanted to take a pot shot at him. Feeling safe that anyone who wanted to shoot him would have done so already. Enrick stood up and quickly walked up to the bloody corpse. Looking down at the fallen man Enrick smirked. "Sorry friend. It wasn't your fault. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time." Enrick removed the man's Id and code cards. "I hope you don't take this too personal." Enrick stood up with his leaning over his shoulder. "So, who was the moron that thought it would be a good idea not to log a flight plan?"

[Mikey]

"You mean, not schedule an arrival from the un-logged and un-scheduled Nova-class frigate which is, technically, not in orbit?" Trask asked as he strode forward. "Try not to judge without all the facts, captain."

"Interrogator..." von Hydden began as he slung his gun behind him.

"Milo Trask," Milo replied, moving his cloak aside to display his Inquisitorial rosette. "And that man had no idea that we were Inquisition. No matter, though," he continued ruthlessly. "From the looks of this place, a random disappearance isn't too uncommon, and I doubt the Arbites pay too much attention. I don't believe that the locals would be prone to using the same ammunition you do, however, captain. Perhaps someone can dispose of the body?"

Stig and Pahr moved toward the corpse as von Hydden held up a hand toward Trask. "Hold on," he said, "I'd still like a little confirmation. Who authorized this mission?"

"Lord Caesurian himself," Trask replied, watching the stormtrooper captain carefully.

Von Hydden unslung his shotgun quickly. "Don't you mean, 'herself?'"

"Very good," Trask said, smiling humorlessly. "We all need to protect ourselves, Captain von Hydden." Although he lowered his voice when he spoke the captain's name, Trask emphasized it to indicate his knowledge. Enrick's name would never have been released during the mission briefing; only someone who had been involved with the Ordo Hereticus previously would have known it. "Perhaps we can continue indoors?" Milo indicated the low hut which served as the airfield's customs house and administrative office. The group moved toward the office - Stig and Pahr catching up after stuffing the body in one of the shuttle's exhaust vents.

Once inside, Milo introduced the team to the captain. Von Hydden paid special attention to Novice Incartarus. "She's not one of ours, then," he said suspiciously.

"Once the Astra Telepathica responded to our requisition of their records, they were bound to send their own representative," Trask said matter-of-factly. "Novice Galatea has already proven her desire to help and her dedication to the Throne, however. Besides," he continued, indicating Pahr, "If we do find the ultimate objective for which we're here, having more than one person with that unique... gift... may prove valuable."

"Rogue psyker, then?" von Hydden asked. He patted his shotgun and said, "There are more direct ways."

"I tend to agree," Trask answered, sweeping his cloak aside to reveal his own holstered hand flamer.

Von Hydden smiled. "That's right, I'd heard that about you. Former IG regimental priest and all, prefers the more... ah, direct approach to dealing with heresies?"

"Yes, well, the work of the Ordo Hereticus sometimes requires more restraint and discretion. I long to simply burn any sign of taint which we may find. However, we must tread carefully here, and uncover a number of layers before we get to that point, I fear. I will explain more once we reach a location of more privacy."

"Very well," von Hydden said. "It appears we may have some transportation after all." He snatched from the room's sole desk the ignition sequencer of a ground car.

"Just give me directions," Trask said. "Pahr, Incartarus, and Stig will go with you, as they require more discreet transportation. Karibi, Naja, and I will meet you."

Von Hydden provided detailed directions to the safe house, and added, "Watch your back. This place is full of the type of cheap hive scum that won't scruple to mug and kill a traveller, aquila around his neck or not."

"If we do have trouble with such people, then we'll simply have to teach them proper respect for the sign of the Emperor's flock," Trask answered without hesitation. Naja looked as if it were the first sensible thing Trask had ever said, and Karibi looked resigned to trouble. "We'll meet you, don't worry. Go with the Emperor's gaze upon you."

[Aaron]

Stig and Pahr dragged the body towards the shuttle intending to shove the corpse in and immolate it upon liftoff, Stig however held out his hand to stay Pahr. Bending over the corpse Stig swiftly went through it's various pockets and pouches coming up with little more than a few crowns and a half-eaten sandwhich. Smiling broadly Stig offered Pahr half the coinage and the two crammed the body into one of the lower engine vents, Stig scarfing it's boots at the last minute.

"Huh, to small!" Stig muttered as he held them up to his feet, "you want?" he said, turning to Pahr and offering the footwear.

[Tsukiyumi]

A thin smile parted Pahr's lips at the feral's offer, but he shook his head; he had all the equipment he'd need for this mission. With a final snap, Pahr twisted the unfortunate man's leg underneath his body; he was now firmly jammed in the exhaust. He and Stig headed back toward the group; Trask, the doctor, and the high-born were going over a map with the contact. Pahr mentally thanked the Emperor that the man wasn't some pathetic wretch; the shot he'd made indicated a good level of skill. As Stig joined up with the small group, Pahr made his way to the transport. It was crude, and ugly, but it seemed to be in working order as Pahr climbed inside. Trask had given his order: take the transport with the others to the safe house. He had no need to go over the map again; he'd memorized it before leaving the ship. Hand on the hilt of his power blade, he settled into the musty-smelling rear seat, and waited.

[Reliant121]

The transport that the local had provided was quite an agriculteral affair. It had none of the aesthetic properties that were more common on important worlds, or core worlds. In fact, it was probably one of the ugliest craft she had seen. Yet, it obviously managed to move. So it was adequate. She knew all to well that in the border lands, you made do with what you had. No matter how old, you would make it work. This was just one example. The mechanics and frame of this machine at least looked stable. That was better than some of what you found on smaller worlds. Adumbria, in its smaller provinces anyway, definately had a lot worse trundling the lands.

She stepped into it, and slid into the other back seat next to Pahr. She wasn't fully comfortable with him as yet. Who can blame her? Sitting next to a virtually unstoppable murdering machine wasn't everyone's favourite past time. Then again, she was well armed with her meltagun. And Trask had seen use of him. Maybe it was providence from the devine emperor. Who was to say?

[Aaron]

Stig clambered into the local transport that had been acquired and which was far more to his taste than the coffin they dropped from orbit in. It even smelled slightly of bullock dung, undoubtly it pulled double duty as a farm vehicle. That was fine with him; he far preferred the smell of cack to that of the oil on the ship.

Settling down on the bench opposite Pahr and the Sister, he dropped the salvaged boots to the floor and retrieved the homemade axe from the side of his back. Bending over the boots, he made a thin line through the polish on each with his thumb, a good inch from the front of the toe cap. Raising his axe as high as he could given the roof of the dung hauler, he sent it whistling down with a grunt, shearing the toes of the boots cleanly.

Stig swiftly removed his worn grox hide boots and crammed the new ones on his feet, toes sticking out of the now ventilated ends. Smiling he looked up at the Sister and Pahr, "I needed better boots in case we go to shrine". Smiling broadly, he swapped his new to him boots with his old ones and stowed the classier ones in his pack.

"You think this guide provide us with good table tonight?" Stig queried to his fellow passengers, "not had a decent meal since Home, need more cheese!". With that Stig settled back on his bench, idly tossing the boot caps into an open cargo bin in the front of the compartment.

[Deepcrush]

Enrick finished speaking with Trask. A bland of a man in Enrick's mind. Then again that was most likely fitting for this work. "Be safe Trask. Stick to the busy streets as soon as you can and follow the directions I gave you to the letter. Emperor be with you." Enrick and Trask nodded to each other and broke apart.

Enrick got into the vehicle buckled the drivers harness. Looking back for a quick second to take in the sight of the strange show behind him. Galatea, a little woman in a lot of armor. Not sure what she does, other then stand out. Pahr who was just funny looking. Almost like looking at someone who was empty inside. Last was the feral. The most normal looking of the three as strange as that was to say. "You are one messed up looking group. I hope you all know that." Turning the ignition, Enrick breathed in some of the oil smoke from the engine. "Lovely. I'm in a smoking wreck with people who blend in as well as a sunrise! Now we're about as visable as a nuke. By the way, you're all bathing when we get home. My aunt Gem takes offense to people who smell." Enrick pressed down hard on the acceleration pedal and sped away from the space port. Sliding around the corner of a hanger Enrick broke out into a laugh. "You know I've always wanted to drive one of these things!" Banking hard to the opposite side while still picking up speed, Enrick felt himself pressed to the door panel. "Handles a lot different from a tractor doesn't it!"

[Mikey]

Trask, Karibi, and Naja slouched down the dingy street - partly from a desire to remain inconspicuous, mostly due to the miserable rain. With Milo wrapped in his drab cloak and the others in fatigues, they presented a fairly nondescript appearance. With the Emperor's grace, they would make it to the safe house without incident.

The Emperor's gaze appeared to be elsewhere, however. As the three men passed a row of low warehouses, booted footsteps began to ring from the pavement across a side street. From behind, more footsteps splashed through a puddle and a gruff voice called, "Hell of a place to be spending leave."

"S'okay," answered the owner of the boots from up ahead. "No doubt these grunts got some scrip to blow." Karibi and Naja backed up to the pillars of the porch of the adjacent building while Trask drew aside his cloak and loosened his bolt pistol and his chainsword. He seemed to be absently focused on the vacant corner of the main avenue and the side street ahead. Sidling toward the porch, Trask motioned for Karibi to cover behind and for Naja to watch for the attacker ahead; Milo himself advanced along the wall toward the street corner, still paying strange attention to the empty patch of cracked rockcrete.

Finally the footsteps ahead of the group brought their owner into the dim light cast by the guttering lamp in the warehouse porch. The man was tall and athletically built, with long dark hair and a long dark coat from which he produced a simple but sturdy stub gun. His colleague behind the team approached close enough to be seen as well; he was shorter but more massive with a bald head, barrel chest and round gut, and a grox-hide vest. Naja and Karibi reset themselves to get the most cover from the columns of the porch while Trask pulled his chainsword free and quickened his curious approach toward the empty corner.

As Milo reached the end of the warehouse wall, he thumbed the deep blue and gunmetal chainsword into growling life and swung it at the empty space beyond the corner of the building. Miraculously, another groxhide-clad body came charging down the walk of the side street to catch Milo's stroke in the stomach. Bits of leather, skin, and entrails flew from the blade as it stuck briefly in the man's body, the engine revving and the chain rending flesh.

"Frak!" shouted the long-haired thug, realizing he had misjudged what he thought to be a few PDF recruits on liberty. He slowed his approach as Naja and Karibi adopted fighting stances, and as Trask began singing a spirited chorus of the Fede Imperialis.

[Monroe]

"What vexes you oh pitiful beggars and vagabonds?" Octavian yelled revealing his master crafted chainsword as he jumped out of his cover and towards the nearest enemy. "Does our righteous display of pious will upset the delicate balance you malignanerant cocksuckers have imposed like a carcinogen on the lesser voided zones of this fair fucking city?" Octavian laughed as he shouted the question and slashed downwards towards the nearest thief cutting the man as he turned to flee into the shoulder blades. The chainsword slid through without any noticeable resistance as Naja pulled out his bolt pistol and fired at a dark figure further down the road, which he assumed was up to no good. The figure, be it an innocent on looker or one of those who opposed him crumpled over.

Octavian grinned, "Brings to beckon venerable memoirs, eh Interrogator?"

[Mikey]

Karibi backed up a step, even though the assailant facing him was still a good 10 meters off. Marco raised his waiting autopistol and squeezed off a short burst - bullets sparked off the rockcrete in a semicircle about half a meter in front of the attacker. The bald brute slowed in his tracks but grinned evilly, thinking his particular victim to be rather less able to defend himself than the other two.

"Feck!" hollered Karibi, dropping the pistol and producing a cruelly-hooked, vaguely medical-looking bladed instrument. The attacker drew a large-bladed knife as well and renewed his charge toward the doctor. Cutting close to the wall of the building, the big ruffian seemed as if he were about to slightly flank Karibi and use his huge reach advantage to attack from the doctor's undefended left side. Suddenly, a large round whined by and a half-meter-diameter chunk of the wall exploded next to the brute in a shower of dust. Momentarily stunned, the bald man looked for the source and saw Trask, still on the other side of the small portico, with a wisp of smoke trailing from the barrel of his deep blue bolt pistol. Milo cursed himself for not insisting on pressuring a local forge world for inferno bolts, but the explosion of the mass-reactive warhead of the bolt round distracted the attacker long enough. Sensing his opportunity, Karibi reached in and swept the convex side of his blade across the assailant's throat, cutting deeply until it ground against the man's spine. A gout of blood sprayed in the air, and the beast of a man dropped under the sudden loss of blood pressure.

Karibi waved his thanks as he stooped to retrieve his pistol. Naja began walking back as well, and called, "Perhaps, Interrogator, a covert disposition of these unfortunates is in order?"

"Certainly," hissed Trask, "but perhaps we can use this delay to our advantage. If we don't want to reveal our presence too early, perhaps we can smoke out our prey." He holstered his bolt pistol and drew his hand flamer. With his chainsword, he lopped the hand off of one of the bodies. "Begin piling the bodies in the doorway of this building," he said casually to Naja. To Karibi he said, "Doctor? Can you tattoo or brand a sigil into this flesh?"

"Hmmm... I have a cauterizing tool, I think... what exactly do you want?" Karibi asked suspiciously.

"Eight arrows, radiating outward from a central point. Then leave the hand near the building, but not too close to be destroyed by the fire." Trask watched the doctor work for a moment, then looked away as if disgusted by the symbol he had described.

"Wait... what fire?" Karibi asked, puzzled, but the interrogator had already gone to help Naja recover the corpses. Karibi finished his work, placed the hand on the steps of the porch, and joined the other two men. He didn't have to repeat his question as Trask motioned for them to step back and then sprayed a gout of burning promethium from his flamer along the foundation of the warehouse. As they hurried away down a side street, Marco said, "That symbol - you described it, but you were revolted by it. What are you up to?"

"That's a symbol of Chaos. If the Enemy has taken root here, perhaps someone who is keeping tabs on its progress will show themselves if they think their servants have run into trouble."

"I, too, have an inquiry, sir purveyor of justice," Naja chimed in with his typical High Gothic flourish. "How, pray tell, did you determine the presence of the third of our grox-brained assailants?"

Trask turned toward Naja, raised his left hand with the hand flamer still drawn, and just smirked and tapped his left temple with the barrel. A dull metallic thud sounded as the barrel tapped against the metal of Trask's augmetic eye.

[Mikey]

Trask was momentarily discomfited by the readiness with which von Hydden opened the door, without so much as a password being given - until he noticed the pict-stealer hidden cleverly above the doorway. The three men walked into a small anteroom, while in the next room a pair of elderly women nonchalantly cleaned up dinner dishes. "This way," von Hydden said, indicating a reinforced door in the wall of the kitchen. Then, noticing Karibi's hungry stare - the hallmark of a veteran soldier - he added, "Don't worry, there's some left for you downstairs. I just thought we'd get everybody off street level, and into a place where we can talk. I trust the Interrogator has some things he'd like to address?"

"I do," Milo replied, "and some questions, as well. But to be honest, some food would certainly be welcome first." Von Hydden led the men down the stairwell to a larger-than-expected room, mostly bare except for a number of frame chairs and a few racks loaded with small arms - von Hydden's personal armory, no doubt. The two women followed, tossing some full platters along with dishes and utensils on a side table, then silently returning up the stairs and audibly locking the door behind them. Trask began to say a short prayer of thanks before eating as Karibi, Naja, and von Hydden waited respectfully. Incartarus stood and bowed her head with her hands clasped in front of her while Pahr closed his eyes, meditating deeply on words as simple as giving thanks to the Emperor. Stig ignored the whole proceeding and began to dump food on a plate and eat, without pausing for anything as useless as utensils.

Finally, after everyone had served themselves and and eaten, Milo rose and began to speak. "This town seems to have somehow avoided being recorded in the recent reports of the Adeptus Astra Telepathica. That of itself is cause for suspicion." Incartarus cast her gaze downward, as if she felt personally responsible for some failure of her organization. "Since the only Administratum presence to speak of is almost non-existent, and concerned specifically with the small amount of mining and manufacturing which occurs here, we can safely guess that any interference stems from the local government." Trask went on to describe the bait he had set to von Hydden, and asked, "Is there an Arbites presence here?"

Von Hydden snorted. "There is a courthouse and barracks in Hive Primus, of course, but they have no interest in this fly-speck town. Any problems around here are judged to be a product of the depression of this area."

"Good," Trask continued. "That means that local enforcement will investigate, and will be in contact with the local politicians. Perhaps something will shake out. In the meantime, we'll need to find out about the workings of the local government, and anything out of the ordinary about day-to-day life around here. We'll try to make some inroads in the morning. Karibi, I want you to check out the Administratum office for any sort of evidence of sudden or unexplained prosperity, population changes, anything - take Stig and Pahr for protection, you can say that they are being re-introduced into Imperial society from a feral world and from the Imperial death cult, respectively. Naja and von Hydden, I want you to see what you can find from the local PDF or local law enforcement - the captain knows the ground, and I know you can talk you way around those types, Octavian. Anything about concern over last night's victims, or any sort of cover-up would be helpful. Sister Incartarus, you'll be with me... I have a mind to check into the local Ministorum presence." Trask rubbed absently at his beard for a moment, then added, "Any questions?"

Karibi looked uncomfortable at the prospect of travelling with the Omega anti-psyker, but said nothing. Stig barely looked up from the heap of food on his plate. Galatea sat serenely, and von Hydden and Naja seemed pleased at doing something useful and doing so in a familiar environment. "Very well, then," Trask finished. "Attend to your wargear, and get some rest. The Emperor protects."

[Aaron]

Stig finished filling his gut with the offered food and then got up to look at the racked weapons and ammunition. Noting a box marked with "shotgun" and a string of numbers he didn't much care about, he popped it open and pulled out a shell, comparing it to the one in his pouch. Satisfied, he stuffed as many as he could in with the ones already residing in it. That task done he wandered around the room, grabbing some high proof booze, empty bottles, rags and a rubber floor mat before finding a corner and flopping down. Using his pack as a back rest he proceeded to fill the empty bottles with a mixture of the booze and strips from the floor mat before plugging them with one of the retrieved rags until he had a small line of bottles next to him.

Then with a small smile, he reached into his pack and brought out a small wooden bear icon and placed it on the floor in front of him. He then poured a small portion of the liquor on the floor in front of the icon and mixed in some marrow he had stashed away from dinner and ignited it. The room filled with the scent of burning alcohol and the not to pleasant stench of burning blood, causing several of his companions to gag and the sister to vomit a portion of her dinner before staring mouth agape at the feral, who was now bellowing a song in his native tongue at the little icon to his front.

After a few minutes of toneless bellowing, Stig hopped up and stamped the fire out, hauled a tattered fur out of his pack and retrieved what was left of his booze. Taking a large swig, he settled on the floor and began to snore loudly, on hand on the grip of his shotgun.

[Deepcrush]

Enrick looked on at Trask. "If we are going to start poking around then people might start asking questions. The local law can be kept in check by my HQ. A few words from them and things dissapear very nicely." Enrick got up and stepped over to the small arms and stood aside. "We may want to look into day jobs for some of you. I'm sure it wouldn't be to hard to find." Enrick pulled on a lever on the wall which caused a number of creeking sounds from beyond the wall. "The medic could take up work in the local hospital. Hard to find a better place to meet those who normally wouldn't be in the mood to talk. The feral could just as easily pick up a job at any loading dock." The walls made a cracking sound. Splitting at half height, they slide forwards overlapping to reveal wall sections behind them. The new walls were covered in a mass of weapons from plasma pistols to a portable missle launcher. Several light machine guns and grenade launchers. Body Armor and combat clothing. All of this followed by the final wall covered in ammunition for every weapon one could think of. "If anyone wants anything just help yourselves." Enrick pulled a case from the wall and walked over to Trask. "You might want this if you want to loosen and lips without calling attention to yourself or us." Openning the case, Enrick slide it over to Trask. "Twenty thousand Imperial Credits along with another hundred thousand in dockets. All unmarked. Try not to spend it in one place. Unmarked bills of any kind are hard to come by on this world. I could buy us a mansion easier then getting all those replaced." Enrick kicked a stud near the stairway which caused half a dozen cots to push out. "You all will sleep down here. Not great but still nice. Just don't come up without checking with us first. All you have to do is push the comm stud over there. I'm going back to bed." Enrick walked up stairs to go back to bed.

[Monroe]

"Cocksucker." Octavian growled as he smacked the wall behind the latrine. The burning sensation was back as he tried to urinate. "What miserable deity did I prove ignoble to in order to procure a whore with a snatch of pestilence and sulfur?"

"You almost done in there?" Stig could be heard outside the door.

"Will you fucking let me piss?" Octavian yelled back then winced as it began to leave his body. Here he was the Hammer of Orks nearly beaten every few hours by his bladder. "The thought of a plague ridden nest between those two alabaster thighs should have came to me. But those tits were too perfect. Had I been more of an enlightened man I might have seen through the cloak of lies that pink snatch hid. Ah fuck!" Octavian yelled and punched the wall again. Beginning and finishing always burned the most.

"Hurry up! Stig must go!"

Octavian grumbled sliding his tool back into his pants and stepped out. "Don't fall in." He mumbled and walked past the feral. The dingy cot that had been provided for him lay empty. Sitting down on the edge of the cot he pulled off his boots and set them next to his planned sleeping bed and lay down. He wasn't a stranger to sleeping in less than worthy bedding but that did not mean he liked sleeping in anything besides a proper bed.

The next morning at promptly five o'clock Naja woke up naturally and peacefully. A strict military discipline on being awoken had made his body so accustomed to waking up at this hour that he had to mentally tell himself to sleep longer even when he was seldom tired.

Turning onto his side he threw his dirty pillow at Enrick. "Rise and fucking shine shock trooper." Octavian said not bothering to lower his voice as not to wake the others. He simply didn't care. "Get ready, I want to produce both warranted and meaningful contact with the PDF yesteryear."

[Tsukiyumi]

Pahr sat for a long time after the others had drifted off to their dreams, concentrating on getting the edge of the symbol just right; the end of the soldering tool wasn't quite fine enough to get the proper curve. Through his IR goggles he saw a tendril of smoke float past Stig's nose; the feral licked his lips. Pahr smiled as the brute rolled on his side in his cot. Perhaps he'd dream of bacon.

Finally, after an hour or so, Pahr was satisfied with the result, and silently returned the tool to the workbench near von Hydden's weapon alcove. As he padded, barefoot, back to his surprisingly comfortable cot, he noticed that Incartarus was watching him; he realized she might have been watching him the entire time. She hadn't moved a millimeter, and her breathing was still as regular and even as one in a deep sleep, but her eyes were open, and she followed his movement as he settled onto his cot. Her eyebrow arched slightly as he met her stare, and he leaned closer, revealing the new sigil on his inner forearm. It was the symbol of her sect; beneath it, her name. He reserved the flesh of his left forearm for the names of the few people he encountered that he trusted, and the inspiration to add hers had come as he had tried to join the others in sleep. She nodded, though he doubted she would truly understand; he didn't really grasp the reason for it himself.

She smiled, almost imperceptibly, and again he noticed how young and pleasant her appearance was. He was puzzled by that, but as she closed her eyes again, and he finally closed his, he suspected he would dream for once, and dream of her.

*** *** ***

His eyes sprung open at the sound of voices; von Hydden's women were coming down the stairs, and chatting in the way that only the well-acquainted can. A peal of laughter forced his eyes shut again; the sound always made him cringe.

"Bacon!" Stig bellowed, chuckling, " I just dreamed of bacon! And here it is!"

The dingy feral joined the doctor and the high-born as the women laid out another meal; Pahr couldn't remember the last time he'd had breakfast, but he slid off of the cot, and shuffled to his feet. Trask and von Hydden were nowhere to be seen, nor was Galatea, though the shower was running; the occasional thump or groan from the pipes jerked Stig upright in his seat, but he continued shoveling strips of meat and mounds of eggs into his mouth as though he hadn't eaten for a week.

" Plenty for you, too! You need more food. You too skinny and pale." Stig addressed him without looking, and motioned to the next seat. Pahr sat, and absently grabbed a strip of bacon from the platter. He nibbled vacantly at it as he thought of his dreams. He had dreamed of her; she had been in the Golden Throne, writhing in pain, and the rest of his new companions had been in other Golden Thrones, all around him, also suffering. Then, a massive and powerful hand gently rested on his gaunt shoulder, and a voice of infinite patience spoke from behind him, " You will suffer in their place."

" ...and as I said, I am assuredly next. I am sure you won't mind using the corner this time?" The high-born, Octavian, was standing to the side of the lavatory door, a scowling Stig perched at the other side. Pahr realized he'd missed the entire meal. All of the plates were empty, and now the doctor was absent as well.

Emperor, guide me, for I am lost, he thought as he rose from his seat. He went back to his cot, and placed his weapons on the blanket one by one, mentally adding each to the inventory as he prayed silently. He checked, but did not remove the four golden orbs at the bottom of his bag; they were far too rare, and far too dangerous to reveal, even to his companions.

Finally, the lavatory door opened; Stig and the high-born stepped back as Incartarus strode out, encased in her imposing armor. She spared Pahr a glance before heading up the stairs; Octavian took the opportunity to slip in, leaving a frustrated Stig growling at the door, "Last time you do that! Stig must go! Next time, I trick you!"

Pahr strapped on his bandolier, slid several blades into it's sheaths, and threw his cloak over his narrow shoulders before gliding up the stairs after Galatea. He had a feeling that their assignments were soon to be underway, but he intended to talk to the Inquisitor about his dream, if time allowed. The fact that he'd dreamed at all was worthy of concern.