Everything about the way the Inquisition operated made Rodrick's skin crawl. Though a devout and faithful man, only the most cruel would send their followers so blindly into a place without so much as a warning or at least some indication as to what lies ahead. Yet, sworn to his duty -and to his faith- Rodrick lowered his weapon quietly as the man asked, yet remaining to eye the needles for some time to come. As his focus slowly shifted to the cadaver of which the Interrogator, the priest gave a brief pause.
"You say this man's lung was replaced by a storage unit... Storage for what? Was there anything in the compartment at the time of his bodies retrieval? Any materials native to this planet, or rather would one obtain such here? Be that this technology is blasphemous, we should have a reasonable idea of who may have provided the parts necessary for this- abominable work."
As his questions began to pour forth, he couldn't help but eye the body further. Truth be told, this wasn't his first corpse, but it was truly a gruesome sight to behold. Torn apart by wild beasts is one thing... To see the dead so violated is another. Idly, the priest would holster his pistol as his hand now slid into his pocket, thumbing over the hidden trinket that resided there. Though nothing much to speak of, this wooden carving provided subtle comfort as he attempted to remain steadfast.
>Regain composure >Question Interrogator >Inspect corpse
The Arbitrator had kept his peace, not dignifying his fellows with responses nor following suite as they arrived and some of the fools kneeled before the Medicae. Glaring at the fellows in his new found team, he was still unimpressed and such was likely visible. He noted the weapon and armor the man wore and kept, and as he began his rather long winded explanation of the situation, Atreides took stock of what he was looking at. Tech heresy, illegal under, as the man said, about any group or law one would bring such actions under. The medicae was well armed, not surprising for an Interrogator and another underling of the Inquisition. Inquisitor himself was likely busy with other, more pressing matters. But that was not a concern right now what his boss was doing, they had a very clear cut task in front of them. Hunt down and execute this criminal, and that was the only part of this that was clear.
As the medicae finished his questioning and the others spoke, Atreides could see the validity in such questions, at least. But he had a far simpler plan to undertake, and that was the old fashioned ways of doing things. Interrogation and walking the streets. And there was two places this could be done, in theory. In practice only one was practical. The location of death could be investigated, but with such constant traffic it was unlikely anything remained, if the car had not been quarantined. Considering this was to be a shadow investigation and not openly done, that was highly unlikely. Second, and far more likely to provide leads, was interrogating the deceased man's sister, Lili Arbest. She would be more likely to know his latest activities and the location of roughly where he vanished and his mental state more closely then. A third idea came to mind, and he included it as well.
"I will be brief Interrogator. One, how fast can it be arranged to speak to Lili Arbest? She could have useful information as to recent habits and where he was heading when he vanished, and I intend to find her before our heretic does. Second, was the transit rail car quarantined off after the event? If so, further investigation could prove useful. Lastly, was there a reason for his invalidation, and if not, who do I need to have words with to know why." Information was power, and his train of thought in asking questions resided in gathering information and putting together the inconsistent information into a rough idea of what happened in truth. He intended to go speak with Ms. Arbest regardless of the group's agreement or disagreement with his plans, and he frankly could care less about whether they agreed with him or not. He was the one who did this kind of work for a living, investigating and hunting down criminals, not them.
Disarm and sheath Shock Maul Question Interrogator Leer at fellow Acolytes
Of course the body was that of their investigation. Saul Arbest. An unassuming name for such a blatantly heretical deed. But what was his body being used for, and why?
Arkaeus rose from his kneel, observing the body and the specimens before him with an air of indifference. He was here to perform a job, not sympathise with a potential heretic.
The Missionary, Arbitrator and Assassin asked several questions that the others would've asked if they hadn't, but Ark had questions of his own.
Especially about that writhing white mass.
"Interrogator, I would like to enquire about the intriguing worm-like specimen that was collected from the corpse. If it is still...alive and moving, perhaps I could examine it for any traces of power? If this...thing was trying to control his body entirely, then some filthy heretic somewhere must have implanted it, like you have said. Mayhaps I could gain an inkling of where that procedure may have taken place, and who it was performed by, perhaps."
Arkaeus took a moment to think about the rest of the things that the Interrogator had given in the course of his briefing to the team.
"And...another thing, sire, you mentioned 'alchemic traces' within this poor fellow's body during the initial autopsy. Might I ask what those were?"
Saying this, he moved closer to the glass, examining the crawling, writhing "Death Worm" within its jar, while probing it with his mind, seeking answers, clues perhaps to questions unanswered.
Both the Arbitrator and Arkaeus made good points on the sister, the vague alchemic traces mentioned and why he was terminated from employment - but neither asked the question that weighed on Warmunds mind. Why the gap between reported missing and the heretical surgery? Gone for thirty two days then found with around nine day old wounds, that's around twenty days in between. The Medicae said it himself, they didn't care for the mans life or well being, there can't of been any sedation because of his damaged voice box - this puzzled the Vindicare greatly.
"So why wait? Why did they take so long to go ahead with the surgery?" Once again Warmunds voice crested the silence like a grey tidal wave. He wasn't necessarily aiming the question at anyone in particular, his cold gaze was fixed on the corpse and its afflictions too. After having listened to the previous questions also, he decided that it would be best for the team to split up and follow up the two primary leads.
One team would be best making there way to the sister, ask her about her brother and his activities as well as any strange visits and the like. The other team could find out why he was terminated and perhaps additional information through his colleagues, Warmund only hoped it was not to late to take these actions.
Warmund checked his Chrono, calculating traffic and population movement at such a time in case they were to move out soon - he would return to his hab-block briefly if possible.
Sister Helana let her gaze linger upon the medicae interrogator, clad in the stereotypical garb of such medical professionals within the Imperium before turning her gaze upon the victim’s corpse, the only evidence and lead that any of them had thus far. With her arms crossed beneath her bosom, she kept her standing place close to the other faithful that had openly professed as such through actions or words thus far. Each sidelong glance at the Arbitrator only invited a more narrowed glare with each glance, clearly displeased and unwelcoming towards the callous enforcer of Imperial Law. Between the questions asked by other members of this band of both faithful and potentially otherwise, she had nothing of consequence to add, so she chose to instead silently pray and await dismissal. Where she would go, would depend heavily on where the faithful would go.
Interrogator Sand's gaze fell on each Acolyte, as they in turn asked their questions. After a few seconds he gave a slight nod before speaking once more. "All excellent questions, I will answer them as best to my knowledge. To be honest, I'm rather surprised by your inquisitiveness... All personal information we know on Mr Arbest, I have revealed to you. Before this investigation, we had no reason to be tracking a habprole such as himself. The Inquisition's resources are best spent elsewhere, I'm sure you'd agree. To find leads and ties with anyone responsible for such, heresy. That is your job to find, although it is his highly likely that it had occurred within the 30 something days he was missing... Now priest, the lung replaced storage container contained nothing upon post mortem examination, and there are no signs of anything that would leave a trace. As for the tech-heresy required for such work, we have connected this to the Logicians, a tech heretic organisation intent of overthrowing the most Holy Emperor... Blasphemy, we can assume that they are somehow connected, however they have remained difficult to track and we have no official leads on them of worth."
Absently straightening his long white gown, Sand's gaze falls on the Arbitrator before continuing. "We believe Lili Arbest to still be living within Hab block 7-17 shared until recently with her brother. To reach her you would have to take the transit rail to the Coscarla Division. As to the transit car in which the body was found, the car was examined by the Biologis forensic, and turned up nothing of worth, nor should you expect any considering the cause of death. Lastly, his invalidation was resulted to poor workmanship, intoxication at the workplace and volatile behavior which led to his removal, the main reason of any invalidation it seems. I believe your best bet would be to question a few of the local populace of the Corscala Division, perhaps they would be able to shed some light on his behavior or indeed his disappearance.
Setting the jar containing the white, stringy length of tentacle to one side, he now looks at Arkaeus. "If there were even traces of warp to be found on this abomination, it would not be here I assure you. This is purely the creation of heretical skin grafting and technology as far as I can tell, not of the warp, I doubt you would find anything here. Ah yes, the alchemic traces found on the body are present in most surgeries, clearly the individual responsible knew what they were doing and has some experience in surgery. Even if any form of pain prevention wasn't present." Taking a step back from the glass window, he regards the group as a whole.
"Now before you leave, If you would Guardsmen, open up that crate you are so interested in... Within, is some equipment that might prove useful to your Investigation." Within the crate there is:
Coscarla Pass Tokens: (One per Acolyte) These coded devices, each about the size of a small thick coin, will allow them legal clearance for the Coscarla Division and free passage on the transit rail around the midhive area.
Hand Vox: (One per Acolyte) These are cheap and battered looking personal communication devices that use a private encrypted channel, and are good for a range of a few kilometers in the hive. Sand will happily explain that thanks to signal interference in the areas of the hive where they are going, vox traffic is almost impossible over any real distance or between levels, except by wire station, but these hand vox will let them keep in touch with each other at least.
Low Hiver’s Overcoats: (One per Acolyte) These voluminous and somewhat tattered patchwork leather and canvas highcollared overcoats are common lowhiver garb in Sibellus and will easily fit over anything the Acolytes are wearing. They are also quite tough and will provide 1 extra Armour Point.
Chem Lamps: (One per Acolyte) These small portable lamps use a chemical reaction to provide light and operate continuously while their shutters are open. Such lamps will illuminate an area of about a three metre radius around it or provide a six metre directed beam of whitish light.
Coded DataSlate: This worn-looking brass cased dataslate carries basic copies of the information found in their briefing, a series of maps and data about the Coscarla and (largely empty) files on the Arbasts, including pictures of them and addresses taken from the Administratum register. The slate also has basic short range audio and visual recording and playback functions. The slate features a five key input code which Sand tells the group, if it is accessed without this, its core memory will be wiped.
BioSample Kit: Added as something of a hopeful afterthought, this satchel carries three small biostorage tubes and a small bioauspex with a range of about a meter or so. Set for human tissue, the indicator on the auspex will flash red and whine with increasing volume in the proximity of anomalous tissue. The kit also comes with a long bladed, razor edge mono scalpel (this will inflict 1d5–1 plus the wielder’s Strength Bonus (SB) Damage and ignores the first 2 Armour Points (AP) of the target). As the Acolytes remove this from the crate, Sand gives a shrug and smile saying, “Use the kit for acquiring any samples, while I’m not expecting deft surgery, try not to hack at it like an underdone Grox steak and get it in the jar, eh?”
Money Pouch: This pouch contains 120 Thrones in loose coin and used notes, “For sundries and bribes. I’m sure if you need more you can be resourceful,” Sand puts it.
As our group of Acolytes equip themselves with their new equipment and share out the rest, they must decide who will carry the BioSample kit. Someone skilled in Medicae would be most suited, while the Acolytes do so, Sand adds.
"If you have not worked out so already, as part of this shadow investigation, you will act that of roving agents for the Coblast Assay. Such men and women are known in hive “cant” as regulators—hired guns, couriers, tracers, manhunters, mercenaries and other specialists. Course, know that the Coblast Assay is merely a front for the Inquisition, this will be your quise whilst investigating. Keep it up, our involvement can not be known lest you scare your quarry... Now you will take the transit rail to the Corscala Division, all leads point there. Corscala is no-more than a few hours away, and I expect your report in a few days, no more. Know however, that you are expected to work together as befits an Inquisition's chosen, your display in the elevator tells me otherwise. Get over your quarrel lest you find yourselves dead because of it... Oh, and Assassin, while you have proven your creativity which I implore, do not prove such on my Servitors. Do so again, and I will see to it that you are punished. Now, you may leave, and may you walk in the Emperor's Light."
Our Acolytes now find themselves travelling to the Corscala Division via the transit rail
The journey to Coscarla takes several hours by transit rail car, during which you have to change rails repeatedly (into increasingly dilapidated and vandalized cars), while your pass tokens and cognomen are repeatedly checked by suspicious Magistratum enforcers, dull-eyed carriage servitors and unctuous looking officials at each change.
As your journey progresses you find yourselves passing from the relatively open spaces and clean air of the government district, down and across whole hive levels, passing collapsed finery and the fallen architectural splendours of the “good of olden days” and through vast steel sky vaults filed with endless rows of habstacks and kilometre after kilometre of thunderous manufactorams. The further you go the more depressed, illmaintained and decayed things become; these are the lower stretches of the mid hive, beyond these no transit rails run. Beyond this outer circle is the underhive where no law holds sway. Long stretches of the journey are spent in the stale tainted air of the wormholelike tunnel passageways within the Hive’s thick supporting bones and in the nameless black voids of deserted spaces between, during which, the car’s lights flicker and fail regularly.
Alone in a single car, now deserted but for your group, the rattling carriage breaks into another vast and dilapidated hab-vault and begins to slow. You look out upon a vista of vacant and decayed buildings in a worse state than any that you have seen up until now, stretching beyond sight into a dark horizon beyond. The rail car shudders to a stop and the doors open onto a wide, raised platform devoid of passengers save for a single huddled figure dressed in rags. The figure quickly bundles themselves onboard, flashing a pass to the door mechanism with unseemly haste and takes up a seat as far from your group as possible. A moment later a dull, crackling servitor intones: “Coscarla Southern Railhead. Passengers to Coscarla to disembark. This conveyance will depart in…” The rest is lost in a howl of static. This is Coscarla and you have arrived.
The Inhabited Southern portion of the Corscala District opens up before the Acolytes as they step of from the transit car, the rest of the district trails of into darkness and a horizon of ruins. Those with Chromos know that there are only 2 hours of the day cycle left. Nearby, stands a women, stoic and grizzled, donned in a long grey coat, one could easily mistake her for a house guard, most assuredly one of the better of Houses judging by the Chainsword at her side. One can tell that she's suffered many a hardship, her unkempt dark hair and hardy figure suggesting as much. This is Adrianna Perdito, the last addition of your party.
As our group look upon Coscarla, it has the feel of a buried and abandoned city, shrouded in darkness beneath a steel sky. It is a cold and empty place, where whole tenements and hab-stacks are blacked by fire, or stare silently with a hundred vacant smashed-window eyes, while ancient and seemingly purposeless columns and arches of black granite soar high into the darkness. The power supply is poor and the streetlamps along the main thoroughfares flicker and cast a pale twilight, while refuse and debris clogs the alleyways where shapeless and half-hidden forms of dregs (and perhaps worse) haunt. The skyline near the southern portion of the district is criss-crossed by the overhead rail lines of Sibellus’s mass transit network, which clatters and sparks intermittently through the cycles. Far above, in the high shadowed skies, the periodic exhalations and clamor of the hive’s vast air processing network is muted into distant thunder, the action of which materializes later at ground level as squalls of sudden chill wind, and even the occasional curtain of dirty rain lasts too briefly to wash the grime from the streets. There are people living in Coscarla, thousands of them in fact, but they are so swallowed up by the vast and darkened spaces around them that they seem very few, nor do they linger outdoors, rushing silently to their destinations with their collars turned up and their heads firmly down. They are disheveled, threadbare and have the look of frightened men and women, determined to get on with life the best they can and only a few walk the streets at this time.
Before our group of brave Acolytes lies the The Southern Square, which operates as the hub of this portion of the Coscarla Division, it is bounded at one side by the railhead and several broad roadways radiate out from it and into the city, populated by hab-stacks running along either length of the roadways. The square’s most singular feature is a fifty metre tall granite statue of a winged felid. The statue is millennia old and headless, a testament to when this entire region was once a single great noble’s estate. Nearby, a ragged sprawl of stalls, peddlers, open-air cook shops and scavenger piles are grouped at one side of the Square, at the opposite, stands the Enforcer station. A squat, rockcrete pillbox three stories high. 2 what appears to be Enforcers stand at either side of the entrance of the building. In the far distance, along the side of one the large hab blocks sticks out a sign. You faintly make out the words 'hotel' across it's surface. Near said sign, is a yawning roadway tunnel entrance, wide enough to fit two huge macrohaulers through at once. Though 2 steel and mesh gates bar the large opening, past which, you know lies the once grand Tantalus Combine manufactorums. You assume this to be another entrance into the hive. Over a another large roadway leading from the square, bears a large archway over the entire street, beyond stands a Templum to our most holy emperor. Simple looking on the outside, but recognizable to the most faithful none the less.
The Acolytes are alone now, armed with whatever leads they may have made out from their briefing. However, the night draws close. They're on their own now.
Reference/Subject: Coscarla Division, Designation: Workers Habitation Zone Locale: Lower MidTiers, Hive Sibellus Attribution: Interrogator Omardha Sand Ordinanator: Conclave Ascarvis/Covenant Sibellus/Chamber Obscuro TFTD: “History is but a catalogue of counted sins”
Geohistorical and Demographic Overview: The Coscarla Division is a subdistrict of Hive Sibellus on the Sector Capitol world of Ascarvis. Built in the remains of what was once the splendor of the House Coscarla Estates, the district is a seventy kilometre square conglomeration of warrenlike tenement habs and their attendant infrastructure that has grown up between the vast ruined arches and fallen statuary of its noble past.
The Coscarla was until recent years a relatively prosperous midhive district, predominantly populated by indentured labour classes, but has since suffered deprivation, disaster and a loss in status thanks to a series of misfortunes and incidents. Primary among these have been the damage caused buy unrestrained wildfires during the recent Rienholt Blackouts (the Coscarla being one of seventeen effected hive zones), although the long term withering of the fortunes of the Tantalus Combine, (see Addendum) had begun to have significant adverse effects long before that calamity.
The Coscarla Division currently awaits Administratum revaluation of its status (projected due process time until preliminary ruling: 37 years standard), but unsubdata indicates over 60% of the Coscarla is now effectively a waste/scav zone and the viable population is now confined to smaller subzones clustered around transit and utility access points. The division’s population is also in catastrophic decline, its infrastructure remains effectively crippled and lawlessness, poor social cohesion and poverty all exponentially increasing year on year.
Addendum: [The State of the Tantalus Combine] The Combine, a longstanding cartel of several Houses Minoris of the Sibellan nobility has seen a drastic decline in its fortunes over the last decade. Its fall from power has been brought on by hostile competition from the SkaelenHar Hegemony and severe damage to its assets and prestige endured during the period of intrigues and vendettas known popularly as the “Vthorran Promenades” [cert.ref: Activities of the Lucid Court]. The resulting effects on several districts of the Sibellus and Tarsus Hives, formerly under the Combine’s sway, have been profound. In the Coscarla Division where Tantalus was the majority power, the Combine has sold on the indenture contracts of thousands of skilled workers and the labour force that remains now works only to meet their master’s debts. As a result, whole swathes of families have been uprooted or have deserted from the district, thus the effective economic and monetary input to the region is now negligible.
The Tantalus Combine is suffering a long, drawnout death and is kept going only by its own fading inertia and the legal wrangling over the disposition of its carcass. It has ceased to exist effectively as a cohesive organisation or political entity.
Atreides calmly listened to the information he needed to know get validated as the chest was opened and he collected his items. Hand vox, crude but useful if he felt like listening to his comrades in arms. Hive attire, familiar in appearance, as he threw that on and properly set the collar to maximize its property to hide his attire and equipment under, letting it set comfortably without having to worry much about exposing himself at all. He preferred a hood or head attire of some sort as well, but it would suffice until he could acquire such things. He was personally looking forward to getting back into the natural flow and crowd of a hive city and its inhabitants, it was easy to get lost and move in, but if you were familiar with them it was possible to track someone through with a bit of luck and skill. Undercover as a regulator would work if they didn't stick together as a huge group, and he crossed his arms under the heavy overgarments he wore, sleeves hanging empty by his sides as they were dismissed. "Likewise, Interrogator, we will be in touch."
Grabbing the dataslate, since he would have use for it and intended to add information as he found it, along with the fact he did not trust the rest of the acolytes with not doing something stupid and messing up the dataslate and its information. With that he, after inputting the data code to prevent memory wipe of the slate, pulled up the relevant information on the sector they were going to and reviewed and prepared while they were on their way to Coscaria. The crowds that were left and the increasingly deteriorating train cars did not phase the Arbitrator one bit. It was par for the course, as he read over the information, and waited for their destination to be announced, keeping some distance from the fellow acolytes to avoid drawing suspicion of a group of such clothed individuals, all clumped together. It still drew attention and attention was something he did not need. This was a shadow mission after all.
Once the group arrived at Coscaria, Atreides wasted no remaining day cycle remaining as he turned away from the group, speaking briefly. "Raise me on vox if you need me, I have questions to ask." He didn't yell, having only spoke loud enough for them to hear as he left the group. He intended to use his familiarity with such hive areas to reach Hab block 7-17 and attempt to gather what information he could from the sister. He would attempt to be polite and respectful to the grieving sister, but he would get the information however he could. His authority was absolute in this, and he would not leave without something to work with in hunting down this heretic.
Collect items and put on disguise Review data slate Navigate to Hab block 7-17
Having listened intently and give a solemn bow to the Medicae when he mentioned the servitor, Warmund walked step by careful step with his fellow acolytes to the transit and sat silently during the way there, only looking up to check the scenery and such. Around half way there however he took the Hand vox from each acolyte (with permission from the respective owner) and tried to get them to the best frequency he could(unless they must stay the same), fix them up and hopefully improve there general performance. As well as this he calibrates his eairpiece to the same frequency and throws on the Hive apparel.
As the group step off of the transit for the final time Warmund suggests that each read the data slate and that two teams should follow two separate leads. Rather than piping up anymore Warmund holds his tongue and waits for suggestions after his own, he looks around for sniping spots and look out areas he could use to his advantageous. Some among them may find this environment unpleasant, but forge world air is dirtier than many, and its crowds more ruthless - thus Warmund finds himself quiet at home.
Check Vox's Calibrate Earpiece Suggestion Scout out the area (Visually)
Taking the equipment provided, minus either the sample kit or the dataslate, Arkaeus silently followed the party onto the transit rail system.
Eventually they reached their destination and he stepped out on the the platform. The Arbitrator excused himself politely to go investigate things by himself, which he was grateful for.
The cloak provided went on nicely enough over his psyker robes, thankfully concealing them from whatever public scrutiny they were about to endure. As he adjusted the stiff, high collar, he briefly paused to consider the last new addition to their group: the Outcast, Adrianna. He couldn't tell much of her, other than her combat skill, but at least the new face was a comforting sight in a place where he was surrounded by strangers. The compact hand Vox piece he'd been given was simple enough to stuff in one of the inner pockets of the cloak, along with the lone chem lamp.
Arkaeus gripped his staff. This was where things got serious, he knew. Knowing this, he closed his eyes to mutter one short prayer.
"Oh Immortal Emperor, guide our actions this day so we may quell this heresy in your name."
Whispering this, he reopened his eyes and gently tapped the ground with the base of his staff.
Adrianna approached the group, and awkwardly stood there wondering who to talk to. Or perhaps the better thing to ask would be who it was wise to talk to. An Arbites, a crazy sister of battle, an obvious psyker that sent chills down her spine, a zealous priest or a death obsessed assassin. The last to step off the transit module was some sort of guardsmen. She added him to the long list of people she didn't trust, she'd faced too many of them for that. Just seeing the group step off the train she knew that these were the people to meet, as they stuck out like a bleeding thumb. She checked her Chrono and herself before setting off for them.
She saw the psyker utter a prayer, and tried to get his attention, for lack of better option in the group
As the Interregator spoke, Holand did nothing but look at the bio sample kit. It contained many types of equipment he was very familiar with due to his medical experience. But, with the reception of the kit, came the responsibility of gathering squirming and unnatural samples in the future. Yet, a mental voice soon porded Holand with some much needed tough truth, and gave an equally encouraging insult, shouting, 'If your not gonna do it, who is? Get the damn kit you snot nosed Grot!', with some long forgotten commissar's voice inside Holand's cranuim. Holand nodded to both the voice and the fare-welling Interregator, and followed his companions out the enlarged door, equipping the many new items granted to the loyalist. Just as much as his journeys in entering the imperium, the trip to the bollows of this Hive world was a struggle for the unaccustomed Vostrayan. So many gadgets, sour faced officials, and authorization. Many a time did the untamed guardsmen temper blow to such heights he almost cursed in his native tongue, but his will was strong enough to pull him back to the little island of sanity he so needed. Upon reaching their destination, Holand was quick to jerk his head back as the rancid odor of the Coscarla Division crept it's slimy form into his nostrils. By the Emperor, Holand missed Kilo II. Whilst regaining his composure, Holand finally turned his stiff neck to acknowledge the new addition to their team, Adrianna. She was utterly grizzled, and resembled more of a man then a women (If she hadn't had breasts Holand would've addressed her as 'Sir'). Nodding to the new Acolyte, Holand stepped more deeply into the atmosphere of Coscarla, and only one sentence poured from the disappointed man's mouth.
"Did the Imperuim really screw up this badly after the Horus Heresy? Eh, it is the Emperor's will, so it is pure."
Playing with his collar was all Holand could do as he skimmed over the data slate Arkaeus held. Without his signature Vostrayan tall fur cap, Holand felt quite head-naked, and more uncomfortable then usual. Gulping down a seemingly throat-load of spit, Holand started single-handedly in the general direction of the Combine, the place of Saul's past occupation. He would hopefully find some clues there. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Actions
Having remained in silence since meeting the Interrogator, Rodrick's gaze now focused on the wooden idol in his hand as his thumb lightly tread over the smooth timber. In the back of his mind, he missed his home-world, but the Emperor had need of him on this world. If the Inquisition truly believed there was someone here attempting to overthrow the All-Father of the Imperium and incite chaos, Rodrick would be the sword to rend through the heretics and blasphemers.
As they arrived at their destination, Rodrick tucked his idol into his robes once more, eyeing over the Arbite as he made his proclamation and departed from the group. Though he didn't have much experience with the man or his order- he couldn't help but feel his impetuous nature would be his down fall. Still, he kept silent, standing from his seat as he stepped off the transport and eyed over his surroundings.
"Well... We've been brought here for a reason. No reason to dawdle. The sooner we unveil this threat, the sooner we can put them down and be done with this- 'planet'." It's obvious that Rodrick did not care for this place, nor did he make an attempt to hide it, "If the Arbite is so confident in his want to search for the sister, than w-"
His speech would be cut short as the guardsman spoke, his eyes cutting to Holland, narrowing into a hated stare, "Careful, guardsman. A loose tongue can be the downfall of a man."
Our group of Acolytes, standing within the dim light provided by the railhead's lumen lighting, think about making a plan before they proceed whilst others turn to threats with one another. Meanwhile, the transit car behind them departs with a rumble before disappearing from sight completely down the darkened tunnels, taking with it the rather odd, bundled up character. 2 figures depart from the group, the Arbitrator Atreides and the Guardsmen Holland, both with different ideas on how they would carry out this investigation in which they now found themselves wrapped up in.
Warmund, almost instinctively upon arrival, gazes at the various rooftops and habblocks for any vantage point he might be able to find. The hab blocks are certainly a sight to behold, apartment upon apartment for the what was once many Imperial workers of the district, some extend far out of sight into the dark metal skies above, others are much smaller at 5-7 floors. He believes that any of these shorter buildings would provide a good sighting point from which to view a large part of the square and parts of the surrounding area from. It's just a matter of getting up there, most hab blocks would have roof access. He'd have to get closer to the buildings for a proper look.
Arbitrator Alexander Atreides The Arbitrator, taking matters into his own hands, believes Lili Arbest to be a key to this investigation and lies intent on finding her, his first thoughts are to search Hab block 7-17. Used to the urban sprawl of a hive city, Atreides hopes to rely on his memory of a hive cities layout to be able to find it in the almost empty streets.
Atreides makes an Intelligence check. Atreides needs: 54 (34+20 navigation) Atreides rolls 97. Fails.
Random Event check. (Kept in secret) Random event occurs.
After stalking through darkened alleyways, it seems that this district does not follow the plans used by most hive cities, perhaps due to it's old age construction, Atreides is unable to find Hab block 7-17 within the confusing sprawl. He was sure it would have been down this street, yet he finds himself at a dead end, within a small square of burnt out hab blocks staring with blackened and ashen, windowless eyes (Not the one you're looking for). The only obvious exit being the alley in which he came. However, a coughing to his side draws his attention to a burnt out technomat's shop. Standing there a shrewd faced, sharp-eyed man of indeterminate middle age. He has the greyish pallor and colourless hair of a true down-hiver, and his wiry build is hidden beneath layer after layer of scavenged clothing. He is also covered in a seemingly disordered jumble of harness pockets, tool belts and bags and a shotgun hangs from a harness around his arm. Besides him stand two "apprentices" and what appears to be a crudely augmented vermin hound scampering nearby. The stall before them is filled with all manner of refuse, bundled rags, scavenged tech and megre goods. Above them hangs a crude sign, painted on is "Syke's Yard".
"You look like you need something, come here would you?" He says as he presents with his hands, the store before him. "Perhaps we have what you require... for sale." His scraggly voice sounds.
Guardsmen Holand Tzofiatien Meanwhile, the Guardsmen believing the victim's workplace to be of some importance to the Investigation. Starts making his way towards the large, dark tunnel, beyond lies the Manufactorums of the Corscala Division. Passing by the Enforcer station and the hotel, which as he walks by notes that the sign much closer now reads "The Corscala Hostel". Two forms of armed Enforcers standing at either side of the large tunnel materialize into to view as Holand makes his way closer. As he nears, the two metal and mesh gates begin to open, and a line of people, dressed as average Imperial workers walk out from the opening in the gate and quickly dissipate into an disorderly group as they briskly walk away, heading most presumably in the direction of home. The two enforcers start closing the gate, although they take a long time in doing so. Out of boredom on the Enforcer's part or whether it just takes that long, you can't tell. Nearby, you hear a loud voice over the small crowd. "You've done good today. Now get home, be with your families before the night cycle." It's source, a rather large man that stands out amongst the crowd, due to his clothes being slightly better in appearance to those around him. Holland now has a choice, to talk to the man that appears to be the boss of these workers, or to try slip by the Enforcers and the gate, and into the darkness beyond. He knows he doesn't have enough time for both.
Warmund, seeing that two had already broken off from the group, bowed his head and uttered a prayer of his Temple beneath his breath as he walked away from the others Ut Imperator vigilaret super nos omnia, and his light guide us. A group like that would grant attention, whether positive or negative, it wasn't to Warmunds liking at all.
Now that the Arbitrator had disappeared from sight and Holland was but one in a bustling crowd, Warmund tapped his ear lightly and felt the welcoming warm buzz of his earpiece turning on. Speaking to the separated team, Warmund's voice wakened an attention as he spoke low and quiet.
"Brothers, Sisters do not stray to far. This is unknown territory and we are among strangers, be they innocent or guilty, fit for our justice or not, we must stay wary. Alexander, speak and tell us where you are?" Warmund fell silent waiting for a reply, meanwhile he walked over to the square, taking in the surroundings and silently observing the people around him. From this point he once again looks for a viable place to camp up to support his team, moving his collar up and rolled his finger over his radiation scar.Warmunds index finger pushed down hard into the darkened flesh, prompting a small stream of blood to roll forth from the open wound. The crimson flow was trapped against the barrier of his dark haired eyebrow, taking his hand vox in his left hand Warmund placed his right hand upon his now red scar and brought the blood down on the gadget a sacrifice to its spirit.
The radiation scar being slightly mutated and warped, the flesh soon healed in a matter of moments and its pigment returned to its grey brown. Warmund had taken to this ritual at least once a day, when blood could be spared, his forge world habits never really leaving him no matter where he ventured. "Spread out, do not attract the eye of our enemy." he spoke again.
Warmund pushed his snub into his hidden holster with a grunt, made sure his two blades on his back were hidden and walked in the general direction that the lone Arbitrator had taken, tracking if he must to find his comrade.
While not ignoring the words of the Assassin, Arkaeus' attention was drawn to the new member of their team, the Outcast, Adrianna. Little had been specified in her personnel file on the dataslate he'd been given prior to this assignment, but what had been said was of interest. Combat experience spanning multiple ships across multiple worlds, born on a Forgeworld with experience dabbling with the Machinespirits, though her background was classified, absolutely no access, a most curious matter. The petite woman was something.
Currently she was trying for his attention, which she received in full as he walked away from the main group, perhaps giving off an image that he wasn't a part of them, and rather he was here for her. Smiling as he lowered his staff slightly, he half-bowed in greeting. As he straightened, his free hand went to rest gently on her shoulder.
"We may be watched. Play along."
His words were soft, hushed in the general buzz of the area they were in, audible only to her and perhaps one or two team members who were nearby. He feigned a general sort of happiness as he removed his hand from her shoulder and stood to her right, his back facing away from the train and towards off-platform. It was then that he spoke in what he presumed was a regular volume.
"Miss Adrianna. A pleasure meeting you. My name is Arkaeus. Was the trip here plesasant? I assume you arrived on one of the many cruisers that comes by here?"
Rodrick sighed heavily as the party began splitting off on their paths. Shaking his head in disapproval, he didn't see any way around it at this point. Cursing under his breath, he made it a point to utter a silent prayer before heading off after the Arbite. Though he had made it a point to stay by the side of his sister-in-faith, he had to chose a path to follow.
"Blood holds many secrets," He remarked to himself, "So, perhaps his next of kin may know more about his dealings outside his station." Nodding in afirmation, he'd continue his trek.
Were the words the Psyker uttered, after greeting her happily. She was no spy, but she knew wherever she went and wherever this group went they were probably being watched. She was no actor, but she did indeed try to play along. A smile cracked across her face, probably making her seem ever more ghastly to onlookers
"Miss Adrianna. A pleasure meeting you. My name is Arkaeus. Was the trip here plesasant? I assume you arrived on one of the many cruisers that comes by here?"
She extended her hand out to shake the Psyker's hand, though the idea of it disturbed her
"Yes, the Emperor was kind and it was a swift journey. And you? Never mind, I'm sure we can discuss it over drinks at the 3rd Tantalus Workers Union. And bring your friends!" It seemed hopelessly hammy, and she winked at the Psyker to make sure he understood what she meant. She was convinced anyone looking on would be easily convinced they weren't just discussing a flight
Try to shake Arkaeus' hand
Attempt to blend in, and probably fail with my low fellowship
The Arbitrator cursed this hives abnormal design and layout, as Atreides could now hazard a guess as to how non hive worlders would feel about being utterly and totally lost in what most would consider such an alien environment. While the man did not allow panic to set in or concern, he did note his newfound surroundings. This included a merchant, peddler of whatever goods he would offer. Normally, he would have not even paused by such a place and kept walking, having the might of the Arbites behind him as he walked the streets as an enforcer of the Imperial Law. However, under the guise he currently maintained, he hardly had the ability to be picky or snobbish about where he got his aid and resources from now. After all, he couldn't just go to the nearest Arbites post and requisition what he required anymore. That would not work in an undercover operation. So when the man spoke, the Arbitrator nodded and approached the stand, making no movements that could be considered hostile. No sense tempting fate in that regard. He spoke to the man, undisturbed by the appearance. Most down hivers tended to look that way after a lifetime of living deep away from the surface and sun, he himself was hardly one to look like they saw the surface at all.
"Perhaps you do, perhaps you do indeed, Syke I presume? Information, and perhaps tools, should you have either." The Arbitrator looked over the refuse and scavanged material before him, looking for anything of use or note in the underworld, or even stolen or looted Arbites equipment if it happened to grace this yard. He would have to barter equipment, but quality gear was worth its weight in Throne Gelt, to the right vendor.
Approach and Speak with owner of Syke's Yard Analyze contents of 'Shop' for anything of use
With the group of Acolytes diminishing in size by the railhead, until only the Pysker Arkaeus and the Outcast Adrianna remained with the Soroitias, who stood off to the side in a most profound silence. The pair, believing they were being watched act out as if they are good friends, to belay any potential suspicions of those watching them. Nothing untoward happens, other than the surroundings growing steadily darker as the night cycle nears and the already small number of people around diminish even more so.
Arbitrator Alexander Atreides "Yes, you would be most right indeed, stranger. And we have for sale what you require... You see and hear many things down here, in the dregs. What sort of information are you looking for, exactly? And perhaps for the right price you can know what I know." He says with a sly grin. As you look across his store front, most of it is, in a word, junk. However amidst the refuge, you see a battered looking hand cannon and an old autopistol with a rebuilt, but sturdy grip (+5 to BS using this weapon). When he sees you looking at said pistol, Sykes adds “star buy that one, one careless owner, regrettably now dead”
After he finishes, he perks up slightly, as do you. You hear a pair of footsteps sounding down the alley from which you came, heading in this direction.
Priest Rodrick and Vindicare Assassin Warmund Meanwhile, our Priest Rodrick and the Assassin Warmund, an unusual pair certainly, outside of the Inquisition. Think it wise to follow the Arbites wherever he might have gone. The hails sent from Warmund over the vox channel, are met with only a static silence, even with the blood sacrifice.
Warmund and Rodrick make a Perception check. Warmund needs: 41 (26+15 Awareness) Warmund rolls 79. Fails
Had it not been for the Priest to guide Warmund, he too would have been lost to the sarcophagus of steel, metal and concrete around them. Following the tracks of Atreides' through the maze of alleys and walkways, the pair are a few minutes walk away from the Southern square where the railhead stands, however guiding ones way back would prove difficult without much guidance. Nevertheless, the pair approach down the alleyway, the Arbitrator's tracks lead down here, you hear a few, faint voices resounding from ahead.
Guardsmen Holand Tzofiatien In a moment of indecision, the Guardsmen now finds himself staring at a closed metal and mesh gate, the two enforcers stand at either side, staring intently at you. Meanwhile, the small crowd has begun to disappear into the darkness of the hive.
Holand makes a Perception check. Holand needs: 39 Holand rolls 31. Succeeds
As you glance around, you spot the same man from before, dressed in a rather fine long coat. His back now towards you, as he proceeds along the main roadway towards the southern square with a slightly rushed stride in his step.
The tension between the assassin and the missionary was thick. Though only having been indoctrinated just a few years ago, nothing about the assassin sat well with the man. Still, he'd say nothing; tracing over the trail left by the Arbite- subtle though it was. This would continue for some time, all the while with the priest's hand resting upon the haft of his warhammer. When they arrived at the 'Southern Square', the act of trailing the Arbite would become much more difficult. He couldn't hlep but chuckle, finding himself tracking down a man as he would a beast back on his homeworld.
After a bit of a walk forward, the subtle sounds of someone speaking near by reached the priest's ears. Drawing his warhammer, he cast his glance knowingly to the man at his side, "Shall you make yourself useful?" Either way, he hid himself at edge of the wall, attempting to pick up on the voices around the wall.
>Continue following trail >Draw Warhammer >Listen to conversation
