Stukov noticed the way Smiles was turned to look at him, coupled with her statement on usually teleporting groups of six men at a time on average, and he suppresed the urge to either wince or sigh in relief. Wince, since he had made an unnecessary backhand insult. Sigh in relief, since she didn't decide to put him into orbit or deposit him into the warp, never to be seen again. He spoke again, keeping the placating tone he wanted to put into it out of his voice as he slipped his hands into his coat pockets. "Didn't mean to insult, Smiles, still leaps and bounds above just walking the whole way here or, Emperor forbid, trying to flag a transport down."

Stukov kept his peace as the two walked and came to overlook the massive gallery complex. Impressive, the armsman thought, reminded him of some of the larger voidship construction and how ornate they tended to be on the outside, and where it mattered on the inside. He couldn't imagine the contents of such a place, it seemed to serve no practical purpose beyond another place for puffed up royals to show up and show how they are better than each other. They had an impressive vantage point over the area, and as the servo skull came down and Smiles dispatched orders, Stukov looked over the area for security, if any that was so obvious. The armsman left finding the Inquisitor to the servo skull and Smiles.

Not too much longer Smiles started talking, and Stukov looked over to her as she spoke and corrected herself on speaking out the Inquisitor's title. That was a small relief, even though he highly doubted there was anyone listening out here for that regard, the overhang looked deserted. But it was not much good for him to provide overwatch from, a pair of shotguns did not suffice in that regard, to put it mildly. Smiles decided to offer whether they teleport or, Emperor preserve him, to throw him out to the two! No, Stukov decided, if those were the options, he would take warp travel again. "Smiles, I'm afraid I am nowhere near aerodynamic enough for slingshot travel. So, Emperor preserve me, I suggest teleportation between those two options."

"Smiles, I'm afraid I am nowhere near aerodynamic enough for slingshot travel."

"You'd actually be surprised to discover how aerodynamic the average human body is." Adrianne said in the most suggestive manner possible. Though she toyed with the idea of tossing Stukov over to Ben and Zhevon regardless of his own free will or say, she managed to resist it. After all, this was supposed to be a covert mission, every bit as boring as it might sound.

And that meant that throwing people across crowded plazas was generally discouraged. Those things had a tendency to become the center of attention whenever they happened, unfortunately.

"Let's go say hi then... " Adrianne finally said, letting out a not-so-subtle sigh of disappointment through the rebreather of her skeletal mask. Extending her left arm, she would once again grab Stukov, before they both promptly disappeared from the scene by a psychic lash!

*

While Zhevon and Ben were standing together, a faint gust of wind blew gently across the scene. Nothing out of the ordinary, or at least; until some of the small pebbles and bits of junk on the ground began to suddenly float a few centimeters off the ground. The pages of Zhevon's book began to flip and move as though the book had just gotten a will of its own!

Suddenly, breaking the boring murmur of the city around them was a sound akin to a sharp whiplash! In the blink of an eye, Adrianne would suddenly appear out of nowhere right behind Zhevon.

"Greetings again, gentlemen." Adrianne would be quick to say as soon as she had appeared behind Zhevon.
"I am here, and with me is... "

...

Adrianne suddenly paused, as the psyker was staring next to her where Stukov was supposed to appear. Behind her mask, she raised an eyebrow in confusion.

" ... I swear, he was supposed to be right here."

*TWOP*

Moments later, another lashing sound would appear around them; just as Stukov appeared out of nowhere ten feet up into the air, being tossed around in a barrel roll by mystical forces through the air.

"Remember to - "

*CRASH!*

" ... brace."

Adrianne stared at the armsman who had just been slammed unceremoniously onto the ground next to them, having been sent spinning out of his own teleportation! Fortunately it had not been a long fall, though that probably didn't mean much to Stukov at that moment.

Stukov shook his head in a combination of amusement and wonder at the insistence that Smiles seemed to have in throwing him clear across the plaza, but that might have had a reason in the fact he had unknowingly insulted the whole teleportation thing. Thankfully, considering how obvious and rather noticeable form a flying, most likely angry at that point, human would be, she did indeed opt against doing so and instead went with the typical means of travel they had gone through with before. Before he had a chance to get a word in edgewise, however, she had a hand on his coat again and they once again hit the warp with the intent of only moving a few hundred feet. Nothing should have possibly gone wrong with that, right?

Of course, something seemed off as Stukov kept getting pulled in all directions, it felt like, far longer than normal as he started gyrating before he even left the warp. The armsman managed off a string of curses before being spat out into realspace, but he was not on the ground. He was still spinning around though as he managed to catch sight of Smiles, Boss and Watchman below him. Great, now he was ten feet off target instead of where he needed to be. That thought didn't really last long as the spinning cut out, but what was holding him up also managed to vanish right at the same time. This was going to hurt, was about all the time Stukov had to consciously think before gravity snagged him properly and threw him directly at the ground. Training did kick in and he tried to get his legs under him, to let them soak up some impact and roll into the impact.

Alas, there was not really enough space for that, and moving in an atmosphere affected by gravity was far different than zero g and no atmosphere. With a hard, very solid thump Stukov hit the ground with a pained grunt. Rebreather mask prevented damage to the face, beyond the red lines that were probably imprinted from where the mask sat, while he suspected there were fair amounts of internal bruising, nothing felt broken thankfully. The armsman groaned as he forced himself off the ground, picking himself up and brushing off his attire before looking at the assembled band that had arrived so far. Boss, obviously, Watchman seemed to beat the two of them here on foot, not surprising considering the side trips they took, and Smiles also came out of the teleport first. That was not terribly surprising, she was the controlling person after all. Perhaps she lost her grip, or the warp was just being itself. It was probably appropriate to say something at this particular moment, however. "Wasn't intending to drop in unannounced, but here I am finally. Appreciate the advice on bracing, Smiles."

Zhevon flipped through the small book, it was a travel guide to the planet, detailing everything about the islands. He then turned the page and the paper became old and coarse, the cover went from colorful paperback to brown leather. The writing went from high gothic to an old scripture, and the words went from guide, to tales of forgotten gods and legends. He slowed his pace and began to read the text, the words familiar to him. As he read the old book he saw memories from before he was inducted into the Inquisition. He heard heavy footsteps behind him, walking on stone. The particular clinking of metal that was only made when someone was moving in plate armor, he looked behind him and saw a Knight, clad in shining metal armor, with a large war axe resting on his shoulder. He came over and sat down next to Zhevon.
"You really have to go with the Starfarer?" The Knight asked.
"Yes."
"He will be going to the Shadowmountain Fortress, that is a very dangerous place."
"I know."
"And this Emperor. You really do believe huh?"
"I do."
"...Well, wherever you go, we will too." The Knight replied, placing a hand on Zhevon's shoulder.
Zhevon paused and then looked at him in the eyes, "Do you think we will find danger there?"
The Knight just smiled with a sad look in his eyes, "Yes my young friend. It is a very dangerous place." He looked away. "We'll go first and find a path. Meet you there." The Knight got up and began to walk away.
Zhevon looked back to him and muttered a thanks, then saw him begin to form into a black shadow, then dissolve into nothing. Zhevon then looked forwards and saw Sergeant Duren approaching him.

"You know, it all burns. Hive cities. The people who live here think they're a fortress. Untouchable, and some sort of redoubt against anything. But they're just big slaughterhouses." He began. Zhevon listened. The Sergeant shuffled and put his hands into his pockets, "You ever lead one of the big wars? I'm guessing no. bit young for it, bit nice." He said, continuing quickly. "I know, kindness isn't weakness and all that. I met one who wasn't kind. He was like some animal who had been kicked and was looking for someone to bite."
The Veteran of Armageddon continued with a story of meeting another Inquisitor, a more brutish one. Zhevon thought there were far too many of those.
"I dunno what the point is. I dunno. I guess thanks for not being that kind of Inquisitor. At least to our faces." He said, lighting another Ilo-stick. "Think we're going to see anything down here?"

Zhevon looked at the ground for a second, and muttered something. He looked up to the Sergeant, "Yes. We are going into a very dangerous place." Zhevon glanced back at the Gallery and then at his book. It was paperback once more, in high gothic. He noticed the wind was picking up, and got to a point where it would be flipping the pages on his book. He heard a sharp sound of wind behind him.
"Greetings again, gentlemen." Adrianne said, "I am here, and with me is... " She paused, "...I swear, he was supposed to be right here." She disappeared, and in a moment came back. With Stukov a bit of a distance still in the air, he then fell.
"Wasn't intending to drop in unannounced, but here I am finally. Appreciate the advice on bracing, Smiles."

Zhevon just looked at them, with that blank mask of his. "Uh... If there was any interference Psyker Valenthin, sorry." He said, shutting his book and placing it on the step next to him. He then looked at his wrist communicator as if checking the time, "Four is a good number. We can go in now if we want, and the rest of us would form a second team for backup. What do you guys think?"

What do you guys think?"

"I am here to serve, ready to go when you say so." Adrianne would say without a moment of pause, nodding to the Inquisitor.

Adviser, guide and protector. Those were her usual roles, which she had become quite acquainted with. She had never been given a mission of her own, as she was usually sent to assist others with theirs. It was little different with the Inquisitor. Her powers changed the rules of the physical world, making possible what was previously unthinkable. She was there to provide a defense against the insidious powers of the warp, protecting against that which normal bullets and guns could not.

From outside, the gallery did not look intimidating at all. Imposing, in its grand size and stature, but not frightening. It was hard to imagine that a place of culture and history could ever be a den of peril.

But then again, looks could be deceiving...

"If I may come with a suggestion," Adrianne would then speak, turning her attention to the group.
"You should keep me close to the front at all times. My ability of precognition will let me sense any danger or traps, but should they fail, my mastery over the immaterium can nonetheless offer us a quick exit out if necessary."

Adrianne would explain, before she turned her mask to face Stukov and nodded.

"Probably on our feet," She would add, trying to sound as sympathetic as she could through her helmet.
" ... but at least without bullet holes."

She was used to taking point. Her ability of divination made her a natural anti-ambush specialist, having the uncanny ability to foresee danger before it ever occured. And even should her ability fail or her sight be fuddled by some foul and evil sorcery, she still had her refractor field plus armor that almost assured her that she would live long enough to react even when surprised.

Ben heard the sound of wind, and reacted differently than the Inquisitor. When the Psyker appeared behind them, Ben had pivoted and his plasma pistol was in his hand, humming. He looked at the Psyker for a second before placing the pistol back in the underarm holster hidden by his coat. Ben reached up and plucked the lho-stick from his mouth and flicked it, as Stukov appeared and was uncerimonsely greeted by gravity.

The inquisitor suggested that the 4 of them go in now, and the others could be backup. It worked for Ben, and he shrugged. "It's your show sir, lead the way." He said, clapping his hands. Ben took a few steps up to the gallery, and stopped to address Stukov. "Watchman, eh? Maybe we should call you Rainman, since you're falling from the sky, and all." Ben said, with a deadpan face. He held for a second or two, and smirked, before continuing up the steps to the gallery.

The plan to head in as their own group of four, with reinforcements being the follow on group made sense. It could be likened to waves of boarding parties, hopefully minus the typically high casualties of a boarding action. Smiles volunteered to lead the way, and he could conceed how that would be a solid plan, a good one even. But he fully intended to be right up there as well, his time with the Imperial Navy had more than equipped him to lead teams into potential ambushes and assaults. Granted, these typically had been in far graver circumstances, such as malicious gravity and poisonous atmosphere, but that did not dull the situation any further. He still had not discounted the danger Smiles had spoke about, any mention of chaos or warp trickery would leave the Armsman on edge until it was well and truly put down. Her mention of probably on their feet got an amused smirk and a brief aside to the psyker. "No hard feelings Smiles, intact but dropped a bit beats shot to pieces on the ground." With that he laid out a brief plan of entry, catching up to take point with the group.

"Smiles and I on point then. Watchman, Boss, you two can bring up the rear. Long as the plan sounds reasonable to you lot." As they headed up the gallery steps, Ben made a deadpan comment towards his own entry into the area, coupled with a nickname in return. The armsman snorted in amusement, seems two played that kind of game then. Good, that would make things just a bit easier to work with then, but he did give a response to the Armageddon vet as he also ascended the gallery steps. "Well played Watchman, though Rainman implies a downpour of some sort, vice one person. Perhaps Dropper, eh?"

Zhevon nodded slowly, hearing their opinions. Mostly it was his show, which he was alright with. He enjoyed hearing other plans of attack, it provided another perspective and experience that he did not have. "We four will investigate for now, with Armsman Stukov's formation." He stood up and cracked his neck, sending a message to everyone who wasn't present, explaining that they should make haste to form up a second team to act as backup if needed. He send a separate message to his Vindicare, telling him to act in an overwatch role with his rifle. "Let's go. I'll unlock the doors." He walked up the stairs and to the front door, pulling out his power sword. He activated its field and carefully slid it along the crack between the double door entrance, cutting the lock between the two. He glanced at his team behind him, they were ready. Zhevon looked at the unlocked doors and turned off the power field to his sword, stabbing the door lightly with the blade tip, he pushed it open with his sword. He approached slowly at a slight crouch, with his inferno pistol at the ready.



The interior was different than the exterior, at least the main entrance was. The lobby had many trophies, some in glass cases, others were hanging on the walls. A small shrine was straight ahead, and two side doors were visible. Zhevon stayed by the door, letting the Armsman and the Psyker through first, then the Veteran. Zhevon pulled his sword out of the door and slowly closed it with back of his hand. Further examination of the walls revealed banners and shields, perhaps noble houses that have funded or contributed to the Gallery. The glass cases had small bits of various items, broken shards of metal that must have been a once great sword, a laspistol here and there, beautifully decorated. Each one had a small paper tag next to it explaining its origins and its meaning, but Zhevon didn't spend much time reading those. He saw an iron scorpion with three tails and four pincers, each tail pointing towards something. He narrowed his eyes and looked to where they were pointing, the door on the right. He looked back at the sculpture and found that it was a small iron sculpture of a Leman Russ tank.
"Record those banners." Zhevon ordered, pointed at the shields and banners, "Or remember them. Perhaps both." He said, in a hushed voice. He then looked at the two side doors. "Should have picked up a map...". He turned to Adrianne, "Psyker Valenthin, what can you see?"

James was silent in his obedience of the Inquisitor's overwatch command. It was a simple order: take a vantage point and set up, rifle at the ready. Which was extremely easy considering the variety of buildings available to him for cover, it did not take him long to find a proper point to take cover from. Soon he was set up with his rifle mounted in a small window of an empty apartment that he crawled into. The window gave enough of a view that he could see the Gallery clearly. His breathing was slight and controlled, reducing scope sway, the second he could no longer follow the group he began scanning the area for suspicious personnel, if he saw anyone coming in or out of the facility. If anything would come through, a silent signal would be sent to the Inquisitor to warn him. Right now he needed to be ready and sharp, as at any moment James's skill could be put to the ultimate test against any kind of heretical foe. So his scope scanned every face, every window, and anything in between were a person could do recon on the Gallery or the people inside it.

As long as the Inquisitor needed him and his rifle, they were ready to kill, tonight was no different. Tomorrow would not be either, for the Emperor and his people, the heretics shall fall by his shots. Glory to the Imperium, and honor to the Inquisitor.

---

---

The skulls flew through the building. Mapping the area and assessing ingress and egress with efficiency sending the data to their controller. Should it be necessary to assist it would not be acceptable to be delayed by lack of knowledge regarding the layout of the building. Whilst waiting the controller also sent a request to the authorities for a floor plan and building schematic.

The controller sat motionless in the dark, his companion most likely getting more and more frustrated by the lack of action or even response. Though he would not admit it, this amused him somewhat.

A single skull hovered near the group entering the hall. It bore the cognomen, an image of a man with half the head replaced with a cog and a bionic arm. It broadcast standard vox codes for reinforcements and flew above the group, observing. Servants of the Imperium are never alone for though the enemies of man are legion the hands of the Emperor and the Omnissiah's guide. Vigilance is the Omnissiah's blessing and preservation is his will.

As they were about to step into the gallery together, it was as if a sickening wind met them as the doors flung open before them. Or at least it felt like it to Adrianne, which was weird considering the fact that she was wearing an air-tight suit under her armor. She looked to her companions, but none seemed to have noticed the breeze either.

"The powers of this place is old. Very old."

Adrianne choose to not say anything, instead choosing to focus on the interior of the gallery as they entered it. Relics, records, banners, crests and portraits all decorated the venerable halls of the gallery. But what surprised the girl was that there were no custodians or receptionists awaiting their arrival, no tour guide to show them about. Either they were past closing hours, or this was a private gallery of some.

A private gallery, now that was an ideal place for the enemies of the empire, as they were so often left alone by imperial authorities out of respect for their role as custodians of imperial lore and history.

"Record those banners. Or remember them. Perhaps both."

"Already done, Inquisitor." Adrianne would quickly respond to Zhevon's request, by motioning towards M4R1-A, her servo-skull currently floating around at the periphery of the group. M41A-A would be constantly shifting around in the air, scanning the surrounding interior of the gallery with its red, mechanical eyes.
"I've put M4R1-A on maximum video resolution, so she should have 24 hours of video and image memory storage. Just make sure she doesn't get shot!"

Adrianne commented as she threw a quick glance to her servo-skull as it continued to record their surroundings. It was an extremely helpful device with a lot of utility, but unfortunately it was anything but a combat model. It was unarmored beyond the bits of bone and metal it was made of, so a stray shot could easily fry its circuits or render it nonfunctional. Fortunately, most people preferred to shoot at her and her allies instead of at the seemingly harmless servo-skull floating around the periphery of the battlefield. And she had found that demons largely ignored machines, almost not even considering them worthy of their attention unless they blocked their way! Or at least that's what she had learned from past experiences, where she had seen a band of lesser daemons of Khorne ignore a set of heavy bolter turrets to charge at its human crew instead, only to get blown to bits.

But as they stood in the main reception area of the gallery, Adrianne could feel a nagging feeling in the back of her head. Almost as if someone was trying to make their way through her skull with a miniature needle. A faint, almost inaudible whisper filled the otherwise quiet halls of the gallery, which she was barely able to hear. She moved a hand up to her audio-receptors at the side of her helmet to increase the sound sensitivity, but even if she increased the volume, the whispers did not increase in volume.

They were not of the physical world, that was for sure.

Even through her air tight mask, she could smell a poignant, aromatic scent that leeched through the hallways. It was not repulsive, but actually quite delicate, like a hundred different perfumes mixed together with great skill. As she gazed at the different portraits, she could see slight flares of colors in the portrait that shift. It was almost as if the portraits themselves changed the longer she looked at them.

"Psyker Valenthin, what can you see?"

"Corruption." She would answer bluntly, before breaking out of her focus to look at Inquisitor Zhevon.
"It is heavy in this building. The barrier between the physical realm and the warp is very weak here. I believe this is the source of daemonic presence that I sensed the moment we touched down on the planet at the spaceport. We should be on guard. The chance that there might be daemonic entities lurking in this building is high. Possibly some cultists as well, as there has to be someone who owns this place, lest the imperial authority would have moved in long ago."

Adrianne would pause, taking a moment to concentrate as she held a finger up to the side of her skeletal mask.

"But... there is something else here, an object of power. It is an anomaly, unlike the corruptive influence of the warp that haunts the rest of this building, perhaps a powerful relic of some kind."

The moment the doors to the gallery were open by the Inquisitor's power sword, the armsman was through them with his shotgun ready and sweeping the immediate room he had just gained access to. No immediate sight of traitors, daemons, curators, or even any security to prevent theft or show guests around. That didn't sit well with Stukov, one would think someone would be here to protect or look over such rare relics and pieces of lore and history at all times of the day. But no, there were no alarms, no one trying to find out why an armed band had just forced the lock on the door, with a power weapon no less, but his instincts were screaming bloody murder right now. There was something wrong, in a familiar sense, with this place. He was no psyker, but past exposure was leaving him more sensitive to the apparent corruption in this place. He could not put a finger on it, not formally, but he could feel something wrong with this gallery. Smiles confirmed it with her blunt statement on corruption, and the quiet click as he unloaded the regular buckshot from his shotgun and grabbed a handful of shells with blessings inscribed upon them and loaded those instead.

"I would bet money that whatever the hell is in here knows we are here now, if it didn't know we were coming before. Cultists or Daemons. I'm not sure about this anomaly within a nest of corruption, to be frank, but burn that bridge once we get there...." The armsman was wary and on edge, even more so than one would typically be when told of lurking daemons and heretics. He had been in this situation before, close quarters with traitors, heretics, and any other amalgamation of warp spawned horrors. Changing over to blessed buckshot was a small preventative measure, and about all Stukov had on him that might do more damage than standard ammunition load outs. He never trusted unchecked warp, in essence any non friendly Psyker, in its attempts to pervert and corrupt any and all within its boundaries and reach. An apparently uncorrupted anomaly within the den of evil, was it possible? Yes, Stukov supposed, it was possible. Did he think it likely, absolutely not. But he would err on the side of caution until proven otherwise. Until then, he was not so much looking at the artwork and relics as art and history, but scanning for anything wrong and a potential threat to their small party.

Ben ascended the steps to the gallery following the others. Once he was through the doors, he reached into his coat, and drew his plasma pistol. He looked down at the weapon, and flipped his thumb along the safety, and the gun hummed to light, emitting a faint glow.

Ben looked at each thing, but barely red the tags, not paying much attention to them. He looked at each banner, trying to commit them to memory, finding that he'd remember the general details.

Ben reached up over his shoulder and touched the handle of his machete, finding comfort in it's existence and general ability to take anything's limb off. The psyker said something about corruption. Makes sense. "No guards. This is the kinda place that doesn't report to the police. Handle's their issues in house." Ben said, scanning around the room, walking slowly, pistol in hand.

"Already done, Inquisitor. I've put M4R1-A on maximum video resolution, so she should have 24 hours of video and image memory storage. Just make sure she doesn't get shot." Adrianne replied.
"Good work."
She paused after Zhevon asked what she saw, "Corruption." She looked at Zhevon, "It is heavy in this building. The barrier between the physical realm and the warp is very weak here. I believe this is the source of daemonic presence that I sensed the moment we touched down on the planet at the spaceport. We should be on guard. The chance that there might be daemonic entities lurking in this building is high. Possibly some cultists as well, as there has to be someone who owns this place, lest the imperial authority would have moved in long ago." She paused again, putting a finger on her mask, "But... there is something else here, an object of power. It is an anomaly, unlike the corruptive influence of the warp that haunts the rest of this building, perhaps a powerful relic of some kind."
Zhevon scratched the side of his head and nodded slowly, "Very well. Keep an eye out for some sort of relic, we'll grab it and investigate it after we clear this Gallery."

"I would bet money that whatever the hell is in here knows we are here now, if it didn't know we were coming before. Cultists or Daemons. I'm not sure about this anomaly within a nest of corruption, to be frank, but burn that bridge once we get there..." Stukov remarked, keeping his eyes peeled."And I am positive that they know we are here. Whether or not they consider us a threat is what you should bet on." Zhevon replied, he had studied Daemonology in his time of training. He didn't need to, but he wanted to. Although he didn't have the capacity to perform the psychic abilities of Daemonology, he valued the knowledge it brought when it came the Immaterium.

"No guards. This is the kinda place that doesn't report to the police. Handle's their issues in house." Ben commented.
Zhevon nodded, looking at the two doors. He had received a sign telling him to go through the right door, but he thought about what lie beyond the left. He thought about the comment Ben made, about the owners handling their issues 'in house', he thought it was best. He knew a few Arbites that were too zealous, and overzealous Arbites often lead to blown covers and interference in the mission.
Right is always right. He thought.
"Let's move on, through the right door." He said to his team, trusting his Vindicare to be in position to provide them cover. He opened the door the same way he did with the entrance, with the tip of his sword, his inferno pistol at the ready. Once the door was half open, he saw that it was a hallway, filled with statues on each side. The windows providing some illumination, while the lights above were turned off. There were at least forty statues, twenty on each side. They were statues of women, of war heroes clad in armor, some of them nobles.
He immediately recognized the handiwork. "Emperor protect us." He whispered. He kept the door half open and turned to the other three. "Listen carefully. We are about to walk right by some statues. Walk slowly, no sudden movement. Do not speak to them, you may speak to each other, only in whispers, but do not speak to them. Do not act against them, you may look, but that's it. No matter how they tease, taunt, or insult." His voice grim, he kept the vox open so that his Vindicare would hear. "I will take point, once I step off, the next person will follow at the same pace as I, ten seconds after I leave. Then the next person goes after ten seconds. Psyker Valenthin will be the rearguard." Zhevon said, bowing his head to Adrianne. "Remember, don't startle them, do not fire unless we are attacked. Good luck, and don't stop."

He opened the door fully with his sword and strolled down the dim hallway, keeping his eyes forward. He kept his breathing steady, he casually held his sword at his side, and his inferno pistol in the same fashion, in a non-threatening way. He used the tip of his sword as sort of a walking stick. The only thing he heard was the tip quietly thudding against the rug, on the marble floor. Then he heard whispers. At the side of his vision, he saw the statues jaggedly moving, in a few seconds their movements were as fluid as liquid, never leaving their pedestals, they were dancing the most beautiful dance. He kept his eyes forward. Their eyes glowed an alluring pink, their once lifeless faces twisted into grins, smiles and laughter. Their whispers reached Zhevon's ears.
You could have her. She could be your slave, with a snap of your fingers. Why don't you? Why do you stay a servant, Zhevon Amoxa? You can have all the power in the galaxy and more. You lack ambition, we can give it to you.
Ten seconds had passed. All their eyes were on Zhevon, shining with that pink. He glanced behind him, he had only walked by the first four rows of statues, out of the twenty. It had felt like hours.

"Psyker Valenthin will be the rearguard."

"But,-" Adrianne was about to object, until she cast a look out across the long hallway with the strange statues. From where she stood, they looked not much different from any other ornamental set of statues. Yet she noticed that whatever they were, they really seemed to startle the inquisitor a lot.

The statues radiated the same foul if ever so slightly arousing aura of corruption as that of the rest of the building, but it was hard to say if there was something magical about the statues themselves, or if they were just inanimate objects tainted by the general corruption of the place.

"Very well." Adrianne answered, seemingly having changed her mind as she nodded to Zhevon, agreeing to stand behind.

As Zhevon began walking through the hallway, ever so carefully, Adrianne would stand back at the entrance and simply watch as her Inquisitor ventured down the hallway as though it was a minefield!

But it was going slow, and Adrianne dreaded how long the whole thing might take if every single party member would have to repeat the same process. Zhevon hadn't even gotten a third of the way. Her servo-skull, M4R1-A was hovering high in the hallway, getting multiple video shots of a rather startled Inquisitor as he carefully walked down the hall.

"This is going to take forever... "

Adrianne could feel herself becoming impatient, and would eventually turn to look over at Ben and Stukov standing with her at the doorway. Moving a finger up to her helmet, she would turn off her own comm before looking at the two men.

"Wouldn't it be fun to NOT have to repeat the Inquisitor's 'walk of doom' through the hall?" Adrianne would ask the two men in a suggestive manner, taking a quick look over to Zhevon to make sure that the Inquisitor was not listening, before turning her head back to look at Stukov and Ben expectantly. If it had not been for her skeletal helmet, they could have seen the biggest smirk ever that was currently plastered all over her face!

Stukov looked at the hallway of statues, his gut telling him that they were trouble, and not in a easily handled manner. He had a feeling from the very serious warning and plan that the Inquisitor was giving them that this hallway was tainted beyond mere appearances as of this moment. Smiles wasn't pleased with being rearguard, her attempt to interject was clearly that. The glowing pink eyes from the hostile statues were something strange, intentionally alluring as well from what he could tell. Emperor protect them indeed. As the Inquisitor finished his brief on the matter, but before he began his journey, Stukov began whispering under his breath, barely audible as a prayer that he had learned from a priest aboard his first ship before it was nearly lost to the warp. It wasn't anything fancy or elegant like some favored, but it fit well enough. Especially considering what he was about to march through, but it was all history for him in the grand scheme of things. One of a handful of remnants of a near damned ship many years ago.



By the time Stukov had finished his prayer and performed the sign of the Aquila, it was almost time for the next person to head into the statue tunnel. If it wasn't for Smiles speaking up, he was about to enter the tunnel itself and brace himself for the passageway he was about to subject himself to. When she questioned if anyone else did not want to go through the Tunnel of Doom, the Armsman recognized her suggestive tone and immediately responded, not sure whether to seriously think that she intended to use warp trickery in such a tainted place or not. He glanced at Watchman as well, who he seriously doubted would even consider such things which meant it was down to him to keep an eye on Smiles, just in case. So that meant at least trying to talk reason into the woman before she dragged him off onto another gallivanting, sickening adventure through the warp again. He wanted to minimize his exposure to such things, especially in a nexus of corruption like this. "Smiles, I don't think this place is the best time to be stepping through the Warp like we did to get here. That might get some rather unpleasant attention or set off those statues. Or worse, to be frank."

"Or worse, to be frank."

At that moment, a clear and audible sigh could be heard coming out from behind Adrianne's mask. Although her face didn't show it, hidden as it was, it was clear that the psyker felt disappointed at the lack of enthusiasm from her comrades as she hung her head forward.

Looking down the hallway, as Zhevon was almost literally tiptoeing down the path as he walked between the statues, she would shake her head. She disliked the idea of going anywhere near the statues, which she was becoming increasingly convinced were most likely corrupt at the foulest level!

"Emperor curse these blunts for wanting to go traipsing and hanging out around objects of warp taint!"

A frown, that was now Adrianne's expression as she looked at the rest of the team through her mask. Whatever whispers and presence the ungifted members of the party may have sensed in this place paled in comparison to what Adrianne would have to endure! What she felt was similar to what Ben and Stukov would feel, except if one turned up the volume 500%!

"Well, if we're going to walk, I suppose you guys are up next." Adrianne would speak as she nodded towards Ben and Stukov standing in front of her, before using her staff to motion towards the hallway which Zhevon was ever so slowly venturing through!
"But don't come complaining to me for not teleporting you should those statues come alive and try to eat you. I'm letting you know now that this is your - and not my - idea!"

Adrianne would explain, while moving her left hand through the hair as to emote that she was washing her hands of any and all guilt in whatever disasters may come of this!

Fortunately, she was in the rearguard, which meant that Ben and Stukov had to go first. Unfortunately, being in the rearguard meant that there would come a time when she'd inevitably have to get off her butt and also move through the hallway of eternal doom, peril & bad plans! At least if there were some hidden traps or so, Zhevon, Ben and Stukov would be sure to active or clear them as the ventured through the hallway first, making the way safe for Adrianne!
But, what if there were some unique traps that only reacted to people who weren't complete rocks but had a genuine gift or affinity for the warp, like her own amazing talent? What if the statues would ignore the blunts in the party, like Zhevon, Ben and Stukov, but finally come alive when a psyker like herself stepped down the hallway? That would completely ruin the whole point of sending in the rest of the party as cannonfodder for whatever traps or dangers that lay in wait!

Adrianne had already begun looking around the hallway, even gently nudging a curtain aside to see if there weren't any hidden maintenance doors or secret pathways that she couldn't use to sneak past the entire hallway.

Ben listened to the Inquisitor's orders. Easy enough. Orders were easy. And then, he waited. He wasn't entirely sure what was on the other side of the door of Eldritch Horror. Ben prepared himself to go second, when the Psyker reached up, and turned off her mic. Ben felt a sickness creep into his stomach as she spoke, and he felt the atmosphere around him.

Stukov was praying and was being polite about it. Ben would not. He turned and addressed the Psyker. "No. No. We have orders." Ben pointed at Stukov and himself. "You know what happens to guys like us, who ignore orders? We die. The inquisitor knows things, and I haven't died yet working for him, so I'm not going to start questioning the things he knows yet. You," Ben accented this by pointing "Seem to play a lot of this by ear, and I'm not putting my life in the hands of someone who is too hot behind the collar to wait." Ben continued his attack. "And there are powers at play here. I can't feel them like you, I don't know them like him. But I know that there is power here. And you don't seem to have the best control right now. You couldn't tell when the Inquisitor was in immediate danger earlier, and you dropped him 10 feet in the Emperor damned air. If the Veil is really thin here, you could deposit me in a wall, for all I know." Ben looked at Stukov. "Entertain this farce if you want, Armsman. But if you two do something that is going to get me killed. I will shoot both of you. I am not dying alone on this fucking planet."

Ben blew air out his nose loudly, signalling he was done. He looked at the Psyker, and Stukov, and then he turned and followed the Inquisitor. He didn't hate them, he enjoyed them both enough. He had learned as a NCO sometimes there was no good cop. It was all bad cop. And if that's what it took to get them forward, and possibly save their lives for now, then so be it. He would rather someone sleep angry at him, than someone sleep 6 feet in the ground.

Ben walked slowly, staring at the back of the inquisitor. His plasma pistol in his hand, emitting the ever present hum and faint heat. Ben was ten steps in when he heard the first whisper. "Seeeeerrrrgeaaaant..." it cooed to him, purring gently. "We can make you whole again...." If there was ever a word to describe Ben though, it was willful. He had fought for 5 years in hell, suffering horrific wounds, and never giving up the will to live. He focused on something inside of him, internal. Rage. He was already angry at Adrianne's complete disregard for their safety. Not everyone could teleport without repercussions. Some people had to suffer consequences. Grunts like him and Stukov. Ben thought of Orks. He thought of friends killed in the war, he thought of his relatives being butchered and enslaved, and his home on fire. Ben felt fury, as he walked, ignoring the whispers that promised new limbs. The whispers that promised the power to kill a thousand orks. The power to see his family again. Tears ran down his face from his real eye, the sadness and rage boiling to a point where he almost fired his pistol at a statue. But he controlled it. He swallowed the pleasant idea down deep inside of him painfully.

And Ben walked forward as ordered, visibly angry, and breathing loudly through his nose.

---

---

Hmmmm. Whatever was happening in that building was none of his business but the streets outside were practically deserted. The lights and levers of the cockpit remained a familiar standard despite the odd quiet of the land below. The odd craft or two passed his position but was swiftly lost in the tumult of the spires. A world like this had its fair share of airborne craft. The rich trafficking themselves from distraction to distraction. Security was plentiful if for no other reason than the thrones ran thick. Craft like his own faded into the background as a mere delivery service. Unworthy of note to the rich though air transport was too upmarket for most crime so the enforcers were also blind. It was almost too easy to slip between the cracks. He was disturbed from his thoughts by the intercom. “Pilot be ready for rapid decent to the building’s facing” came the voice from the wire grill, light for the hold blinking red.

“You’ve the money ready yes?” A foreign accent with a local lilt spoke thumbing the button below the flashing light.

“The Omnissiah rewards those who serve his will” came the reply.

“… Right. I’ll take that as a yes.” What was it with religious types and never just saying what they mean.

He was ex-Navy. Flying civilian lifters was not exactly glamorous, he missed the excitement whether he admitted it or not. Once upon a time he surfed flak as thick as the loamy surf of his home world. Here amongst the hive’s spires the pilot could feel the thrill of danger once again. He knew not what business this Mechanicus golem had here but he knew a battle ready warrior when he saw one. Whatever the business below it was like to be bloody.

It would not matter if the folk below picked up on the voxed message or not. Cargo like this found its way to its recipient for better or worse. A grin spread across the pilot’s features. Usually worse.

Stukov listened to first the shifting of responsibility from Smiles should anything go wrong, and before he could get a word in edgewise, Watchman snapped on the psyker as he spoke on very harsh truths, but they were truths. Men like him and Watchman were not typically at liberty to be able to ignore the rules and do their own thing. The military structure of an Armsman and Guardsman, respectfully, didn't allow for that kind of thing. It was something that he had intended to try and explain later, under less pressing circumstances, but the veteran had not wasted time beating around the bush about it. And Stukov could not blame him, not with the results he had seen so far. But he never had a problem with psykers as people, it was their powers that worried him. But when one faces the raw face of the warp, belching unending waves of death and destruction into the ship carrying you through its domain, that tends to ingrain itself in one's psyche. But as the veteran entered the hallway, he was noticing the increased attempts by Smiles to find a way that would not make her walk through there, and he could hazard a guess why. "I won't be as blunt as Watchman was, but he isn't wrong about one thing. Cannon fodder like us never typically make it far disobeying orders. But I can tell you none of us want to go through there, but part of our job is to go where no one else wants to. That is what makes us soldiers, we do what we don't want to, for the sake of others. I won't tell you what to do, I ain't your boss, that's the glorious leader's job. But if this is anything like raw exposure, they won't discriminate, and setting off a beacon like that, doesn't seem wise. But I have never left someone behind who's on my squad, not as long as they kept drawing breath. Something goes wrong, you ain't going to be ditched. My problem and concern is always with the warp, not the ones 'gifted' with wielding the power. You have my word on that."

Stukov sighed, his ten seconds prior to entering the hallway was about to tick over, his normal manner of speaking accelerated to get everything he intended to in. He gave Smiles a nod, turning to face the corridor and, right before crossing the threshold said his last bit. "Sound off if you need a hand, I'll drag you out if I have to. But if you intend to warp anyways, or need to out of necessity, grab me before hand. It would be rude for a lady to go without escort. That's how that works, yea?" Weak humor interjection aside, he would begin moving. He swallowed once and walked into the corridor, and kept his eyes locked on the back of Watchman's head, peripheral vision immediately aware of the dancing, laughing, pink eyed statues as the whispers grew louder in his ears, more so than Boss or Watchman had heard. "Stukov, why do you turn from us again? The warp would have welcomed you and your brothers, had you not resisted. You could have saved them all, with our gifts..." It took all of the Armsman's will not to open fire on the statues, focusing on past experience in resisting the warp. A Daemon always lied, whatever it had to say or promise to condemn a man. He focused on this truth, not allowing himself to even consider what the possessed statues were saying. "A daemon only lies until the truth hurts more, Armsman..."

The whispers were insistent, nearly drowning out anything else he could have heard from his surroundings. About all that would pierce the veil of noise was the vox link should it go off. But, no matter what promises, from stealing back the souls lost to the Dark Eldar, restoring his leg, or any powers to prevent any more to be lost to the currents of the Warp, the Armsman kept marching forward. The weight was heavy on his shoulders, guilt gnawing at him as the whispers went from bargaining, soothing, to accusing and damning. He had a job to do, and if he could resist as a green, rookie Armsman so many years ago, there was no way in HELL he was giving in now. His grip on the shotgun tightened to white knuckle, but he kept the barrel firmly pointed at the ground. There was no way it could be taken as menacing, and as much as his instincts screamed shoot them, even that small part of the mind that wanted to yield and agree, he kept marching without a word or even acknowledging their existence. He was mouthing prayers to the Emperor, not a word coming out, and he kept his mind filled with the very same litany, over and over again. The one he intoned before walking into the corridor, attempting to mentally drown out the whispers the best way he could without resorting to violence, and his own mental focus clarified with the reasoning that came with it.

Stukov was no hero or war veteran, just a survivor of extraordinary circumstances. And his sheer, he wouldn't lie, fear of the warp helped prevent any thoughts of taking up the daemons offer's or submitting to their condemnations from taking hold as the prayer looped. He had stared the warp in the eyes, and it haunted him to this day. That haunting fear, the old scars that never healed, the pain of watching so many better men and women, from fellow armsman cut down like so many weeds to the Navigator as he was ripped to shreds by raw warp power, that took over in time with the praying. Each word hurt, and it kept him focused now, and while some would focus on rage, pride, or purity, Stukov was not that kind of man. The pain and fear of what the warp would REALLY do to him kept him going long after any will to disobey Boss would have faded, and while he wanted to bolt and just escape like nothing else, he kept going. Emperor willing it would all end before he knew it, and would be out of this DAMNED corridor.