Stukov grunted as he sat up, the sound distorting oddly in his throat as he picked himself off the bed, sitting upright and scattering frost and ice that had accumulated, turning himself to face Smiles as she dangled the alcohol in front of him, also holding food of some sort or another as well. She commented on his bionic throat, mentioning hoping that it wouldn't interfere with him consuming food or drink. Well, that would be rather inconveniant if it had since, well, he was still mostly organic and still required sustinance to function. And eating out of a tube hooked up to some induction port for the rest of his days would have been even more miserable. But, as he was about to explain to the psyker, as far as he had been told, that would not be the case. "Food and drink do not interact with the bionics, but anything toxic, or perceived as toxic, gets filtered. Which means any alcohol would be little better than filtered, foul tasting water. And no upside to it either. Damn cogboys."

Turning his attention to what she had said prior, the armsman shrugged, leaning back against the wall, extending his bandaged hand to take a drink. Some sort of intake was probably necessary at this point, and even if it would be little better than some foul tasting swill, it would be better than nothing at all. She would probably question the hand, but he would burn that bridge when he got to it. Either way, once he got his hand on the drink he would crack it open and slam back the contents, ignoring the taste and absolute lack of effect it had on his system, setting the empty can down on the deck before bringing his augmatic foot down on it, crunching it flat with a resounding noise. "Fair point, but most men don't spend more of their life exposed to the warp than in the safety of real space. Even fewer psykers do. And even fewer tend to have the damn powers crop up in the nest of cultist evil that is barely one slip up away from forming into a daemon gate."

Groaning he half closed his eyes, the cold making the connection between flesh and metal on his body even more uncomfortable than it felt right now. Not even completely human anymore, and now the warp decided to start really screwing with him. He was still maintaining that brute force wall of willpower around his mind, and it was taxing enough to begin with without considering the implications of all that had happened recently. His voice was quieter now, eyes half closed as he left his arms crossed over his stomach, but the mechanical grating seemed unadjusted to a quieter voice and lost more of the humanity that was left in his voice. "Never had a problem with psykers, wasn't their choice to risk detonating, going mad, or getting possessed on a daily basis. Doubly so for those sorry bastards that get called Navigators. I don't, however, need the damn warp interfering with my life, been dealing with enough of it for multiple life times of most men. Spend long enough staring its minions in the eye, the warp tends to stare back and wonder why your being so repulsive to its being, and it tries to get clever."

Stukov was convinced the warp had a mind of its own, on a basic level at least, and everything that came out of it, from the smallest psyker power to the most hideous chaos spawned Daemon, would come from that vastness. It was colder than the void between stars, and cared not for any of those that drew from it. It cared only to bleed over into the real space, and take over. Like an Emperor damned parasite. Opening his eyes fully, he locked his stare with Smiles own eyes, only showing the hardened stare of a veteran servant against Chaos, the very fabric of which was now interfering with his life. "I won't undersell whatever hell the Black Ships put you through, Smiles, and I have heard stories. Not something I could ever fathom though. But you take a man who has spent his entire life, fighting against everything the Warp vomits into real space and expect him to turn around and suddenly be a conduit for powers that come from such a place? I don't see any sane person ever wishing that kind of power onto someone. Especially since rejecting it isn't an option, is it? Not if this damn cold has anything to indicate."

Stukov slung himself back to a laying position, staring at the ceiling as he weighed the situation, but didn't give Smiles a chance to get a word in edgeword yet. "What would you have me do, Smiles? A damaged vessel for a power that he loathes. Guess I was in denial until recently about it, after that hell in the Factory. And now this damn cold won't go away either, like the void itself is chasing me now. Better then the blasted heat though, small miracles there." Might as well see what she had to say on how to proceed, Stukov considered, since she had been there and done that her whole life. Beyond that, he waited for a response, crushed can not frosting over like the other items that had either already frozen or had not.

"I'm pretty sure if you threw in a couple of extra thrones, the 'cogboys' would be able to come up with a culinary-enjoyment package for your new augmentation." Adrianne would comment jokingly as Stukov grabbed one of the beer cans and made rather short work of it, the Psyker smirking.
"Some of them might be more machines than men, but like the rest of the population, money can still drive them to make wonders.

Adrianne did not have much of a special relation to money. Given her role as a sanctioned psyker, her economic funds were usually limited, as were the ways in which she could spend them. Fortunately well above the poverty line, but nothing compared to that of any of the greater merchants of this world.

But despite the limited role money played in her life, most of her necessities usually being provided by her institution or whomsoever she was attached to, it did not prevent her from grasping the simple rule that if you had enough money, you could theoretically get anything; whether buying it directly, like a grand mansion, or buying the means to get it, like a private armada to conquer a planet.

"The warp touches everything in the universe. No man or woman is ever truly free from its grasp." Adrianne leaned back in her chair as she listened to Stukov's tale.
"Only a rare few individuals have complete freedom from the warp, but rather than enjoying it, they often live cursed lives little better than the psyker in normal societies. They radiate an emptiness, being empty holes in a world otherwise full of vibrant energies. For that, whether they know it or not, people will instinctively scorn them and loathe their presence."

Tilting her head slightly, Adrianne would smile at Stukov.

"The seething warp is an inescapable presence of all our lives. It is something we must live side by side with, even though most people never realize how close they truly are to it. Every thought you ever had, Stukov; or that of your mundane colleagues, will have fed directly into the warp. Any emotion of hope, fear, anger or joy, whether in solitary prayer to the emperor or in the heat of battle, will leave its mark on the warp."

People feared what they did not understand. It was completely natural. And the warp was one thing that no one understood, even the wisest of sages.

Adrianne remembered the first time she had been told of her gift with the warp. With the indoctrination of the rest of society still in her backhead, it had initially frightened her beyond belief. This fear had only grown as she had learnt more and more about the hideous warp spawns and other monstrosities that the warp had spawned, how its influence corrupted and destroyed everything it touched. But, at a certain point, her growing fear for the warp would be replaced by a sense of tranquility and acceptance of the warp as some sort of force of nature, a fact of life of life.

"While it may sound absurd, the warp is not inherently evil." Adrianne would finally comment, raising a brow at Stukov.
"It is merely the product of the psychic energies from the material realm. The immaterium is only made possible through the materium. Like fire, it has the power to destroy and bring ruin to one's house, but if properly contained and dealt with by able-bodied hands, it can bring warmth and growth to the village. That is the role of psykers. We are the firemasters of the village, and we bring boons to the Imperium. In fact, without our talent and discipline, the Imperium would not have existed. Ours is a glorious burden. The psyker's condition, if anything, only increases our value in service to the Emperor."

Adrianne would then raise her staff which she had been resting by the side of her chair, before suddenly throwing it over to Stukov for him to catch.

"That is my staff. It is far more than an ornament or mundane weapon, but a conduit. Without a psyker, it is just a simple staff, but in the hands of one; it becomes a vital conduit, enabling psykers to channel their powers through it. You have already experienced the damage your raw psychic might can do to your body, Stukov. With a staff, you can channel those raw energies into your weapon instead, thus effectively sharing your burden and enabling you to perform greater feats."

As Stukov held Adrianne's staff, he could immediately sense a soothing presence emanate from the staff, coursing through his body and lulling any pains he might have felt, making him feel lighter overall.
The only part of Adrianne's staff that did not seem to have the same pacifying effect was the lower wooden shaft of the staff, the sheath of the power blade within. Holding around that part, Stukov could sense the a tiny, almost unnoticable sickening aura, mostly contained within the wooden shaft.

"As a young novice, my staff was the first item I ever received; even before my clothes or insignia. It represents Safety and Control, the two most important things to any psyker."

"Not like I have that many Thrones just laying around Smiles. Don't get rich on Navy pay. Besides, being nearly dead on an operating table wasn't the time to be concerning myself with 'Hmm, wonder if these new augmatics will still taste properly or not." Stukov didn't really mention that Armsman typically did no really get paid, period, they merely got stipends on the rare days that a Naval vessel might pull into a world where they could take any meaningful level of shore leave. Getting paid didn't do much good when they would have their gear issued, quarters issued, food issued, and orders issued. No real need for money at that point. So he didn't really comment further on her follow up statement, not wasting the breath.

Money could grease palms, twist arms, kick and scream, but it wasn't the only method of gaining what one desired. A swift, firm, and near lethal strike could convince someone to aid just as well. Interrogation and intimidation worked just as well, if not better at times, than complete obliteration. Buy the loyalty of a rebellious planet, within a few cycles it was wanting more Thrones or it would revolt again. Decimate a population of a rebelling planet, and demonstrate in the process the ability to utterly obliterate if the whim reared its head, and they would not rebel so likely again. Fear was potent, sometimes more so, than bribery. Besides, the Imperial Navy and, by extension, the Naval Armsman, did not engage in such things as far as his experience was. When you could leave a planet devoid of all life, bribes were typically unnecessary.

"Considering the warp's unnerving habit of breaking through just about anywhere, at a typically unhelpful moment? And a Naval ship can launch into Warp Space from about any place within range of the Astronomican. Figures the warp is waiting behind any backdrop of reality to bleed over." The thing that Smiles went on about next, humans that had no resonance with the warp and lived cursed lives, was well and truly above his paygrade. The Armsman had no idea what she was on about there, but didn't pursue that particular train of thought either. It had little impact on the current situation, and he sat himself up before she continued, since she was going somewhere with this whole spiel.

Sure enough, the staff was thrown at him with little warning after a speech about the warp being like fire. Well, if fire routinely vomited daemons and abominations, randomly caused men who were too closely connected to explode, become possessed, or worse, and only a small population of individuals could utilize its heat, then yes it was just like fire. But holding the staff was strange, and as Smiles explained it being a tool of safety and control for psykers, his focus wasn't on that. It was on the end of the staff, where her blade was kept, and how it did not maintain the same feel. It wasn't safe, it wasn't control, it was a weapon. Without even thinking about it, a flick of his wrist exposed the blade on the staff. If Smiles had given him the staff not even a day before he would have been clueless on its operation.

"Safety is nice and all, but save it for those who are not sworn to fighting against the enemies of Man. Control, however, has its place. The blade is foreign compared to the rest of your staff. Sickening, somehow. Why?" As he asked his question he replaced the sheath on the bladed end of the staff and handed it back to Smiles, not holding her focus any longer. The waves of discomfort and background noise came back full force, and he snarled subtly, beating them back again. He was standing, the temperature as cold as it was before as he left his arms rest at his sides, squared off from Smiles with an expressionless face. Her explanation would hopefully explain the blades foreign nature to the rest of the staff. As far as he understood, force weapons were foci, regardless of style and construction. Why would such a foci then, split between blade and staff, have such a disparity between ends? He continued, arms moving to his pockets, something snapping as the cold dropped well into dangerous levels for anyone not suited up like Smiles was, eyes blazing sapphire the farther he got into his counter speech.

"You have yet to answer my other question, Smiles. What. Would. You. Have. Me. Do? You've given me a fine spiel on the warp, nature of pyskers and their opposite, the greatest concerns of sanctioned psykers, which is all fine and well for others. I'm no sanctioned psyker, no navigator or slum renegade witch, I'm an armsman well in over his head. Whatever increase in value that, whatever the hell this will turn out to be, is, gets countermanded by the small fact that it takes a considerable time for you lot to get sanctioned. Let alone deployed, and we don't have that kind of time. For sanctioning, or deployment. And it sure as hell seems, for all that has happened so far from this damn condition, that it has had nothing to do with your powers in any relation. The warp may not be evil to you, not inherently so after all the training and practice, but facing the warp in its rawest form, pouring in from a Gellar field failure, watching reality fail and the raw energies of the void coalesce into Daemons and worse things I, to this day, cannot speak of, watching over three fourths of a crew that was family from birth get slaughtered whole sale against a foe they could not even harm, and only by the grace of the Emperor and damn luck that we escaped warp space, DISAGREES with that statement, Smiles. The only time I have yet to see the warp not actively try to kill me was in your hands, Smiles. One instance, among a lifetime of counterpoints. What would you have a man, who has spent his life fighting against the very essence of the Warp, when he is suddenly having a condition fueled by the very thing he fought a lifetime against, THRUST upon him with no say in the matter, do, ADRIANNE?."

Stukov was under a great deal of stress before this point, fighting against Chaos would do that to a man. Couple it with being saddled with powers that are fueled by the very thing he despised? Alongside the grating noise, heavy levels of pressure from the warp, and utter lack of real rest or respite from shortly after they left the cafe at the landing site? Now being confronted with the fact he could not escape this so readily and that he was cursed like any other psyker? It was a miracle of the Emperor he did not snap right then and, as the Sisters feared, become a raw conduit of the warp. Being overextended as he was saved him as the energy from all the rage and despair failed him and he collapsed backwards, lights in his eyes blinking out and a brief, blessed silence descending onto his mind. For the moment, it had been driven away by his outburst. But he was near silent now, the cold and the mental image of his face, with burning blue eyes, still haunting his mind's eye. "Enough speeches, Smiles, your the sanctioned one here. Before the Sisters decide to come up here and put a bolter shell through my skull. Before the damn noise comes back. What does a man who has stood against the warp his whole life do, when he is forced to embrace it or be lost to it? And its not as simple as 'Embrace it, Armsman'. Don't even try to feed me that line."

"Safety is the first step to fighting against the enemies of the Imperium." Adrianne would smile before raising her fist and softly clanking the armored back of her fist against her plated chestguard, functioning much like an extra ribcage around her upper torso.
"One must live to serve the emperor. Ours is not to die, but to make our enemies do the dying. Half of a soldier's training, and usually the first he learns, is how to stay alive and take care of himself."

Adrianne then moved her hand to motion towards a small, bone like metallic tendril that stretched out under her chest, originating from her back where it connected to a black, artifical spine attached from the back of her suit, with dim, orange lights originating at the side of the black metal vertebra blades that stemmed from her refractor field generator.

The Imperium had many enemies, and their numbers were seemingly endless. The empire's own assets however, were clearly not. Adrianne knew the virtue of sacrifice, and how it could sometimes be necessary, but as a general rule; it was a far better policy to stay alive.

"Push yourself too hard, Stukov, and you will soon have nothing more to give to the Emperor." Adrianne would say, motioning towards Stukov's throat where his voice augmentation had been installed.

As the Stukov was inspecting the blade of the staff, which had seemed to have garnered most of the armsan's interest, Adrianne simply smiled as she reached to pick up her own beer.

"The power blade is steeped in the raw essence of the warp. The blade is much older than the enchantment, which was added by my old mentor on Mordran V when the planet was visited by a warpstorm... " Adrianne explained, pausing for a moment as she looked away, before returning to Stukov.
"It enhances its power in the material world, but especially against creatures of the warp. It also serves as a reserve for me to draw from, should I ever need to amplify my power."

As Stukov's eyes began to burn like sapphires, and the room's temperature dropped sharply, Adrianne remained calm in her chair; almost as if neither Stukov's sudden outburst or the cold affected her in the slightest. Listening to the man talk with a patient gaze, Adrianne uncorked her beer can to take a sip, but would notice that nothing came out of it. The beer inside had been frozen solid.

"I should have brought something with a higher alcohol percentage."

With a small look of dismay, Adrianne would simply put the frozen beer can away before returning her attention to Stukov.

"What do you do?" She finally said, having waited a couple of seconds after Stukov had finished his small burst of outrage.

"You continue doing what you have always done, Stukov. That which you have done your whole life aboard the vessels of the imperium. What you did recently at the factory. What you will do in the days to come. You will continue to serve the Emperor, using your old skills alongside your newfound powers to vanquish his enemies." Adrianne smiled, before standing up from her chair, having to hold it in place slightly as parts of the metal on the chair had frozen onto her suit.

"The Sisters will not touch you, for you are a member of the Inquisitor's retinue until he deems you unfit for service. You proved yourself in the factory, facing down daemons and cultists alike. That makes you eligible to be my student, my apprentice. I will guide you in the days to come in the ways of your new life, to make you a worthy asset to the Inquisitor, and ultimately, to the Imperium."

Adrianne turned to walk away with her staff in hand, before stopping by the door. There she eyed a panel by the wall, some of the button to control the temperature in the room. Clicking on some of them, she upped the heating in Stukov's room to begin a process of defrosting.

Turning her head around to give Stukov a final look, she pointed at him with her staff.

"As your new Master, my first orders to you are that you get something to eat, and then some sleep. And that's an order, armsman... "

Adrianne would suddenly pause, looking away for a moment as if something just crossed her mind, before glancing back at Stukov.

" ... or rather; apprentice."

And with that final world, Adrianne left Stukov's room, shutting the door behind her leaving him only to listen to the hum of the generator in the room as it began thawing the frost around him.

As Adrianne explained the educational system of Sanctioned Psykers and the permanency of psychic powers, Zhevon frowned. Confirming his fears that him being accepted into an institution would be highly unlikely. He had heard of thousands of fledgling Psykers, not suitable for education and training, sacrificed to The Emperor to keep him alive. A fate he did not wish on anyone under his service. She then explained that it was possible for her to take him under her wing as an apprentice, which was good news. She then expanded on the revelations of having the abilities of a Psyker. While Zhevon was sure that Stukov was mentally strong, having proven himself by walking through the nest of St. Ives Statues, it wouldn't hurt to make sure that he was fine.
It was Avizas turn to speak then. She spoke about her own experiences with newly discovered Psykers. Them going insane, or becoming unstable to the point of violent detonation. Zhevon rubbed his chin, he had never put much thought into the things they were discussing at the dinner table. Usually 'that daemon used to be a Psyker' was enough information for him.

Adrianne then spoke up, saying that it would likely be best that she speak to Stukov alone at first. Zhevon nodded in approval, taken out of his train of thought.
"Eight hours then." He said, "I don't really know what to do either." Usually when he had this amount of time, he would nap, maybe train. "Hm. Since our resident Armsman is potentially a Psyker, I suppose he would potentially need a staff. I doubt he would like carrying around a staff-sized staff..." He put some thought into it, "Perhaps a... Tonfa? It was called?"

Returning down to the living room where the rest of the group resided, Adrianne arrived in time to hear Zhevon's concern about Zhevon's preferences in regards to staves.

"Most male psykers, especially adolescents tend to want the largest staves possible." Adrianne would remark with a smirk, though spoke with little apparent intention.

"But... either way, I've checked with Stukov and decided to take him as my apprentice. As for now, I've ordered him to get some much needed rest and food. He will need every bit of his strength for the days to come." Adrianne would then explain to the rest of the group, making it clear that Stukov would indeed be a viable candidate for apprenticeship.

"I just hope he doesn't try to hang himself or something. He really was in a dark place when I met him."

Adrianne was no stranger to the hardships that people often endured when they moved from 'normal' life over to the highly regulated and institutionalized life of a psyker. Being ostracized from the rest of society, losing all old family and friends; without even mentioning the powers and the whispers themselves; tended to be a very traumatizing experience for many.

In a way, Adrianne had been sort of lucky. She had been too young to really understand what was going on when she had been discovered and taken away. Her childish mind and adventurous spirit had found the whole experience to be rather exciting and cool, never quite understanding the actual seriousness or gravity of it until she was much older. She had made most of her friends at the institute, the place she had spent the vast majority of her life as a child. In fact, she had little recollection of her life before being taken away; most of it only being vague memories and flickering, unfinished images.

In fact, her memories of her past life were so distant that she quite simply didn't care about them. Her family had, and always would be; the institute.

By the time she was 16, she had known nothing but the walls of the institute, and the people living within it. It in turn had steeped her in lore and knowledge in regards to her psychic abilities, girding her mind against the warp through copious amounts of specialized training, meditation and trials. Most of the people she knew had psychic gifts. Almost all of her friends back then were psykers, and though they had quarreled, competed and fought sometimes, it had all served to to only steel them all for the challenges posed by the warp that would inevitably face them later in their lives. Whenever she had ever had a problem in regards to her powers, she had been surrounded by like-minded people, often people experiencing the very same things; everyone able to understand what she might have been going through.

A life without psychic powers, without the familiar, haunting whispers, without supernatural abilities - was quite simply alien to her until her first assignment.

For Stukov, it was the complete opposite. He was a man who had never submerged himself in the warp, only seen it at a distance; most often down through the barrel of a gun. Taught to fear it, he had only seen the warp at its worst; when it devoured ships, tore men apart or disgorged legions of twisted, daemonic aberrations on him and his crew.

"Poor man... "

"As for Stukov's equipment, it will take time to requisition something. Though there exists plenty of standardized equipment, it's better if we can get something made to his own specs. I do however have some items of my own lying around, some of which I'm sure he could use." Adrianne then said, returning to the question of Stukov's equipment.

Throughout her life, she had gathered no small amount of items for her role as a psyker. Some items were things she had used in the past. Other items were loot she had scavenged among her travels. And other items were items she had bought, thinking she might need them in the future; without an occasion to use them never really arising.

[Many hours later…]

Inside of the luxurious safe house black metal blinds had been pulled down over the securely locked windows to stave off prying eyes and any potential intruders. From within the living room, soft white lighting illuminated the elegant wooden dining room table and chairs that were positioned in the middle of the spacious living room. Nearby was the stone and metal work fireplace that had been built to keep the whole house a warm and toasty temperature during the cold nights in the winter, and this night was nothing less than a frigid one. Inside of the fireplaces heart were three logs and snapped and popped as they slowly burned. The whole safe house was filled with a satisfying warmth, pushing back the bitter weather outside. The living room was filled with melodic calming music that could be heard alongside the sound of the Sister of Battle Medic cooking away in the kitchen, making an assortment of snacks for the retinue while they discussed their next assignment.

Six hours had passed since the retinue had found themselves inside of the luxurious safe house. The group had played games, read books, talked and ultimately recovered among many other things while the hours passed by, approaching the time of the party. Back in the living room and Mostly sitting up in a comfortable position upon the large firm grey couch, Aviza had a book in her hands, a high fantasy story that had drawn her attention after she had found it in the safe houses library. It was one of those books that once you pick up, it is hard to put down, where you are enjoying the story so much that nothing else seems matter around you at the time. The Sister of Battle Medic came out of the kitchen holding a couple plates of small freshly made snacks and placed them down upon the beautiful wooden dining room table top.

“Two hours until the party begins Celestian Aviza, I made some light food for all of you to enjoy in case any of you are hungry. Your data-pad should have all in the…” The medic did not finish her sentence as there was a knock on the large metal door of the safe house. The door would unlock itself as Aviza almost fell off of the couch and onto the floor, quickly pulling herself together and running up the stairs to her room to change into her full armor as well as to gather all of her equipment. Once all of her armor had been equipped and everything was in order, she walked down the stairs once more knowing who had returned to personally inform all of them on the details of their mission. Superior Canoness Andromedai sat still and silent at the far end of the dining room table, she had moved the food to one side of the table and placed a large holographic map to the middle.

With a hault, Aviza quickly and firmly saluted Andromedai before walking down the rest of the stairs and waited next to the table before Andromedai gave her permission to sit down and wait for the rest of her group. There was a moment of silence as Aviza reached for a piece of bruschetta and set it upon a small plate in front of her next to a glass of water. “Evening Celestrian Aviza, as I said I would return to personally brief the retinue on this mission, and will do so once everyone arrives and takes a seat. This assignment has taken an intriguing turn and has become much more important.” Aviza nodded her head, waiting for the rest to take their seats so Andromedai could begin.

Stukov was silent once Smiles walked out, having declared him her apprentice and started giving him orders. Sleep, while he agreed with it, was something he would get to when he got to it. Secondly, food would also wait until he was ready to eat. Probably closer to the mission, so he would have longer before hunger set in, especially if it happened during the mission. The cold was receeding as he calmed down, thankfully, and he closed his eyes after laying back down. Sleep could happen now, as he put up a mental blockade around his mind as sleep overtook him, to protect himself and hopefully prevent sub conscious lapses into the warp. Just because the power was there, did not mean he would let it run rampant in his life. It would be a tool, nothing more, and with that determined resolution sleep took him completely. His dreams, if you wanted to call them that, were a series of nightmarish flashbacks to various points in his life. Some linked to his past, some had no relation to anything he had ever dealt with, some were just amalgamation of what he had seen and done period. It was not restful, not mentally, even if he was physically resting. It would be a long few hours.



Stukov opened his eyes, staring at the ceiling and groaning as he tried to sit up. The crack of ice made him fall backwards, noticing the encroaching ice and frost had returned while he was asleep. Great, he had to spend time defrosting or breaking the ice away. As soon as he had come to, however, the temperature immediately started rising and thawing the room. He seemed to have stabilized and he was able to break free in a decent amount of time. Looking over his now frozen uniform, he glanced out the door, once he was able to open it, to find a clean copy of his clothes laying outside. Grabbing the bag and closing the door, he went about changing. The full carapace was thrown on over his uniform, and the coat over that, and he slung the rifle after checking that it was undamaged. It was good, and he loaded it and switched the safety on. Next was his sidearm, also undamaged, and the same checks were made. Loaded, chambered, but safe. After that, he realized he did not have his knife anymore, it had been lost when hitting the heretics the prior day. Damnation, he needed a new weapon for hand to hand combat now.

Might need one of those psyker melee weapons now that he was cursed with these powers. Not a staff though, he would prefer a sword or axe or something simple. Nothing two handed, no need for some phallic symbol to make up for the fact that most of all humanity loathe psykers. A sword would suffice, something sturdy, simple, and a working man's blade. Pair it with his pistol and save the rifle for high value, long range targets. Or give it to Sis, replace that bolter of hers with something more dangerous. He might do that rather than carry around way too many weapons. But he finally came out of the room, just about the same time the Sisters were scrambling for their Cannoness as she walked in, and a yawn could be heard from the Armsman as he walked down the stairs. If someone didn't know better, he would have obviously been waiting for that moment to come out just to come across the way he did. But Stukov was no seer of the future, that was more Smiles deal, so he had just gotten lucky, or unlucky, with his timing.

"I suppose I should thank you for the expedient care after the last mission, ma'am?" Stukov was standing his ground, and most of the people present would see nothing abnormal in his stance or the way he carried himself. Smiles would, but she knew the power sitting inside him that now kicked on, which left him far more visible in that regard. Regardless of the Cannoness' answer, he turned and walked over to sit opposite of Smiles, grunting as he sat down. The full carapace would protect him better, no doubt, but was still probably the weakest armor here, compared to everyone else. But hell, he was mobile still and carried some good gear otherwise, so it was a moot point. There was some food, which he poked and nibbled at, waiting for the briefing to kick off and so he could figure out what his role would be during the mission.

After informing the rest of the party about Stukov's condition and his newly, if unofficially, appointed role as her apprentice; Adrianne would have retreated to her room.

There she would strip out of her armor, wearing only her biosuit, and going to continue sleeping in her bed. Her body was still exhausted from the events earlier in the cultist lair beneath the factory, but the sleep combined with ample amount of food certainly had a reinvigorating effect. If there was one thing she had learnt in her life as a psyker, then that was that food and rest were the alpha of omega to everything; and were opportunities that should always be seized upon whenever possible.

Some pious men might vilify ample rest as a sign of weakness, laziness and a lack of faith, yet Adrianne knew that the focus required by her occupation and the chaotic powers under her command meant that lacking energy could be a death sentence.

Waking up four hours later, she would move out of her bed to do some stretching and meditative yoga. It was a soothing exercise as she moved to the room, emptying her mind as she untied her weary muscles. The passing of time became almost unnoticeable to her, as she instead submerged her mind in a different world, one within herself.

Any remnants of stress that may have lingered in her body disappeared. Any inkling of doubt evaporated from her mind. And any shadow of fear receded from her thoughts.

She was at peace, her pulse almost unnoticeable as she closed her eyes. Feeling the world around her, she could almost grasp the vibrant auras radiated by the world around her. The presence of the warp readily apparent around her, feeding on the joy, euphoria, fear and doubt that teemed with the many life forms on the world. It was like a purple storm, amidst which Adrianne was but a dim light, barely flickering; quietly observing the currents around her.

For a moment, it was as if her consciousness traveled to someone else. She was now flying between a number of tall, grandiose buildings; an almost bottomless fall beneath her leading to the streets below, the people little more than ants from where she was looking. Sailing effortlessly through the air, the journey would take her closer to a familiar building.

Adrianne was sitting, her legs crossed when something suddenly pecked against one of the windows, breaking her trance.

Opening one eye, she would glance towards the window, covered as it was in curtains. Standing up and walking over to it, she would reach out an arm and push the curtain aside; revealing a black raven standing right outside of it. It was staring right back at her through the reinforced glass, one of its eyes missing and replaced with a bionic eye attached to some tubes and wires running down its body and disappearing amidst its feathers.

The psyber raven merely looked at her in silence, letting out a 'cra' as it whipped its wings out. When she unlocked the window and let it swing open, the psyber raven would suddenly leap into the room and fly over to her bed. That was when a bundle of cloth that it had been carrying in its claws became visible, which it dropped on her pillow.

"Always on time, aren't you, Twilight." Adrianne would smirk as she raised a hand to gently pat the psyber raven, before turning to the bundle which it had brought to her.

Unfolding the cloth bundle, it would reveal two items; two ornate, wooden boxes. One of them was smaller, a little thicker; whereas the other was narrow and long. Picking up the short box, Adrianne would open. Inside of it lay a plasma pistol in black paint and gold trim, surrounded by red velvet. Its surface was decorated with intricate, almost claw like patterns of gold across the black surface. The plasma chamber on top of the ridge of the pistol was partly covered by a metal plate running across the pistol, and shone however slightly with a dim, purple light. Picking up the pistol, Adrianne would turn it over as she inspected it, before smiling and placing it down onto her bed.

"Thank you." She said, turning to the psyber raven while finding her own handgun, Scylla, and placing it into the box before tying it into the cloth bundle and handing it to the raven. The raven accepted it without question, gazing quietly as ever up at Adrianne. While its black eye was focused on Adrianne, the blue lens in its bionic eye could be seen as it scanned the room separately from its normal eye.
"Bring it back to the ship, and then return. I will have need of you before the day is night is done."

With a single 'craa' sound, the Raven would expand its wings and take off; flying out through the window and away.

Turning around, Adrianne would look down at the longer, still unopened wooden casket brought by the raven. Picking it up, she studied the ornate wooden surface fro a moment.

"I'm sure Stukov will approve of this one."

*

Minutes later, Adrianne would be heading down towards the dining room; wearing her armor. Her skull helmet would be hanging from her belt as she carried her staff in her right hand. Her new plasma pistol was situated in its holster attached to the side of her gothic cuisses, on her right leg. And carried beneath her left arm would be the long, wooden casket from before.

Spotting Aviza and Andromedai, Adrianne would nod towards them in acknowledgement. Although she had come to appreciate Aviza as a not-too psycothic, fire-loving raving pyromaniac; the same could not be said for her superior, Canoness Andromedai; whom Adrianne was a lot more apprehensive about. It was by no accident that Adrianne avoided any eye contact with her. She knew that the less noticeable she made herself around Sisters or any members of the ecclesiarchy, the better. They usually had a flair of theatrics, and more often than not, a single word or wrong gesture was all the ammunition they needed to go about on a long rant or mob-herding.

When Stukov finally arrived, Adrianne's eyes would quickly trace the man as she no longer had to stare at inanimate objects or empty air to avoid contact with the sisters.

"You look better, Stukov." Adrianne would remark as he sat by the table. She refrained from using the title of 'armsman', it no longer being applicable due to his new role. But she also avoided using the word 'apprentice', what with the presence of a canoness in the room.

Having placed the thin wooden casket on the table in front of her, she would rest a hand upon it while looking at Stukov.

"Did you sleep well?"

Adrianne walked down from the stairs, commenting that male Psykers typically enjoyed having larger staves. Especially the younger sort. Zhevon cracked a little smile, remembering his own childhood when he tried to lift a hefty two-handed sword. She then explained that she accepted Stukov under her wing. This also pleased Zhevon. Adrianne then said that it would take time to requisition a personalized force weapon for him. While normally it may takes entire months maybe years for someone to requisition such a weapon from the Mechanicus due to paperwork, queues and other various reasons, Zhevon had a fair amount of friends in the Mechanicus. And a few favors they owed each other. Zhevon put a bit of thought into it, and he came to the conclusion that it wasn't unreasonable to place an order for a force weapon personalized to Stukov and have it arrive within a few weeks, depending on the urgency, maybe even one week. But for now one of Adriannes old pieces would have to do.

"If you need anything, equipment, supplies, commodities, ask and I will get it for you." He offered, "This also extends to you too." Nodding towards Aviza, "Within reason. My friends in the Mechanicus would raise a few eyebrows if I started to ask for several Thunderhammers, eight Baneblades and twenty Leman Russes." He got up, and stretched a bit, "I think I know what to do in these eight hours." He turned and left the safehouse, bringing his sword.

For these eight hours, Zhevon was a surprisingly busy man. He had left and reentered the safehouse numerous times, each time bringing back a wrapped gift of various size, or a cardboard box. Once, he entered holding a single candle jar. Stopping in the middle of the safehouse, looking at it, then left with it still in hand, only to come back with four candle jars in his hands. After spending some time ferrying numerous boxes and gifts, piling them in an empty space in the room. He then dusted the bookcases, and added several books to the small library. He placed his sword on the coffee table across from where Aviza was lounging on the couch and disappeared into a dark side room. Seconds after he came out with numerous more swords, all unsheathed, caked in dirt, blood and... Whatever else stained their steel. He went back into the room. This time carrying an assortment of hatchets and axes. A third time, carrying a variety of small sword and dagger. All of them as dirty as the last. With all of them laid out on the table, with their scabbards and sheaths on the floor next to the table, Zhevon went to get a cleaning kit and went to work. Expertly and tenderly cleaning and tending to each weapon as if they were his own children. After each one had been cleaned, they would be placed in their respective sheaths and placed next to Zhevons own sword. Finally, it was time to maintain his own sword. He unsheathed it and checked if there was any edge damage, sure that there was none, he began to clean and oil it.

It was then there was a knock on the door. Aviza nearly fell off the couch, and essentially sprinted up the stairs. The door opened, revealing the Canoness that had provided them with support before. He greeted the Canoness Superior and made a final check on the huge array of melee weapons that was laid out in front of them. In the meantime, the Canoness went to the dinner table and set up her briefing. Aviza appeared, saluting. Then getting permission to sit down at the table. She had changed into her armor with surprising speed.
“Evening Celestrian Aviza, as I said I would return to personally brief the retinue on this mission, and will do so once everyone arrives and takes a seat. This assignment has taken an intriguing turn and has become much more important.” The Canoness informed the two present.
An intriguing turn? Zhevon thought, he sat down. It wasn't long before Adrianne appeared, with a new plasma pistol and a large box. Then Stukov, looking not dead, which was good.
Adrianne greeted her apprentice, and asked if he had rested well.
Meanwhile Zhevon was in deep contemplation about this development on the mission. A glaring issue that likely, only he could see. They were going to a party, and he didn't remember how to dance. He silently wished he had paid more attention to his mothers lessons when he was a younger man.

The Sister of Battle Medic that had spent the whole day by the squad’s side had chosen to find a seat next to Aviza at the luxurious dining room table. Her gaze followed Adrainne as she walked down the stairs and greeted the present Adepta Sororitas with a nod of her head. Waiting until the Psyker took her seat across from Stukov with a large wooden box in her hands, the medic leaned over to Aviza and whispered “Did you see how the Psyker kept avoiding all eye contact with us, especially Andromedai? Is it fear that draws her to act like that, caution, or maybe even respect?” Out of the corner of her left eye, Aviza could see Adrainne talking to Stukov about how he was doing and the large wooden box that sat upon the table in front of her. There was a short pause before Aviza whispered back, “I do not think Adrianne fears anything in this universe expect the lack of food, I think she is just being cautious. Can’t blame her though, three Adepta Sororitas that are armed to the teeth in the same room with her, and Andromedai has quite the short fuse.” The medic nodded her head in agreement only seconds before Andromedai stood up and turned off the lights around them, the room was all black besides the small lights that blinked and pulsed in multiple colors on some of the squad’s armor and weapons.

Suddenly in the middle of the table a 3D holographic image of the elaborately decorated mansion appeared, illuminating the room with a soft sapphire glow. “Everyone remain silent until I am done speaking, then you may ask questions.” Andromedai leaned forward slightly over the table and altered the hologram with her two hands. She removed the exterior of the mansion with a simple flick of her wrist. The interior was of grand design, showing great wealth and mortal pleasures. As she moved the hologram to show the main entrance of the building, Andromedai quickly started to lay out all the information she had to share. “This is one of the homes that belong to Baron Vastok, the house is called Accueil de l'extase or Home of ecstasy. The Baron only uses this home for extremely special events, like the promotion of a Royal Guard, a new head summoner being picked, and so on. From all the resources and information that has been gathered for me, tonight is a celebration over the fact that Baron Vastok will be getting married in few days.” Pausing for a moment, Andromedai readjusted the hologram once more to give a bird’s eye view of the area surrounding the mansion. “Now, alongside Baron Vastok, are his Elite Royal Guards, they will happily die for him, they fear nothing, feel no remorse and feel no pain. Iv blown off the legs of one of these guards before and he kept crawling towards me while firing his weapon. The one I did manage to kill detonated taking out most of the building I had been inside of. You are not allowed to kill these targets, they must be incapacitated. If one of them goes down, they will detonate and cause chaos on an unprecedented scale."

"Taser rounds would be my personal choice, also do not hit their power packs with the rounds or that may cause their powerarmor to over overload. We all know what happens when powerarmor over loads, it can send out an torrent of electricity and fry everything in the room. The most important piece of information I can give you is that his wife will be attending the celebration, I want her to be taken hostage and brought back to here for questioning. If anything goes wrong, contact me immediately and I will issue live orders to all of you, failure to follow the orders given will result in termination, and that is something none of us want.” Andromedai turned her gaze to Stukov then to Adrainne, if their gaze would meet with hers, they would see a dark fire that burned behind her eyes with hate from a hellish abyss. “Inside of your rooms upstairs, there is a closet with a selection of different outfits you can choose to wear to the celebration. They have room for weapons and items you can sneak into mansion. Go change into the outfit of your choice and meet Elleynah outside, she will be driving you to the party. Once inside, Aviza will contact me from a secure location and our mission will progress from there. Now, go change and all questions you have will be answered by Elleynah on the way there."

Aviza did not mutter a word, she merely stood up, saluted Andromedai then walked up the stairs to change. Once arriving in her room, she opened the closet and looked at her choices of attire, picking some that matched her personality and that would fit in with the party as well. It was a dress of sorts, it had golden, black, and red swirls sewn into it, the design familiar to Vincent van Goghs Starry Night. Once satisfied with her look and all of we weapons and equipment she could carry had been carefully stored away on her outfit, she headed back down the stairs and out of the safe house, where a large heavily armored vehicle was waiting for them. "If this does not scream WE ARE COMING TO KILL YOU ALL, I am unsure what does." said Aviza to the driver as she jumped into the back of it and fastened her seat-belt securely. The driver was quick to respond, "This is one of the main vechicals the cult uses, we recovered it from the soldiers you killed near the warehouse, all of us are in disguise so calm yourself."

After the briefing Zhevon went up to grab his disguise. He kept some elements from his usual attire, keeping the armored boots, armor around the arms and legs. His breastplate was too large unfortunately, and too conspicuous. He wore a large black hooded coat, and a rebreather over his face, with goggles to cover his eyes. A large white patterned cloak covered his left arm for style, and a steel grey pauldron over his right shoulder. He kept his digital weapons, sword, and picked up a small stun stick. With his armor incomplete, the Ungents of Warding would so minimal that nobody would notice. And his swords sheath would suppress the Ungents on his blade. So long as nobody physically licks certain parts of his armor, and his sword kept in its sheath, he would remain undetected and vulnerable to Daemons. As a finishing touch he grabbed more than several fake military medals and pinned them to his breast.

Later he exited the safehouse and found that their transport would be a large armored vehicle.
"This isn't very conspicuous." He muttered, getting inside of the armored vehicle, "Are we sure that we would welcome in a truck like this?" He asked, "It seems to me like we are invading instead of attending the party."

Smiles asked if he slept well, commenting on the fact he looked better, and he shrugged idly. Not really, if he could have called his sleep that restful, but he was used to few hours of sleep before, so this was hardly anything new. So, beyond the unpleasant sleeping one could consider him well enough. He put up a brave front regardless, having gotten no response or even acknowledgment from the Cannoness. Great, the usual frigid bitch routine, he really didn't have time for that. But he turned his focus back to Smiles before the brief started and gave her a verbal response, that much was at least necessary. "Terribly, really. But sleep is sleep, I suppose."

Stukov had noticed the wooden boxes that Smiles had with her, but he didn't have time to actually ask about them before the briefing started. While Boss worried about dancing, which Stukov was thankfully unaware of, his mind was on far more practical terms. Guards that detonate with bunker busting levels of ordinance, which would have gotten a groan of irritation or disbelief on another day. Right now though, he was just contemplating on how to put the bastards down without setting them off. Since he was going to blatently ignore that little order if the needs demanded it, and he couldn't help but hate this pompous Cannoness. Sis had at least been attempting to be tolerable, but this one was just acting like she owned everything and everyone. Probably used to it, too, since most cases Sisters of Battle seemed to like and pull rank on things. But he kept his silence for now, since she was covering useful information. Even if the presentation was less than stellar. He had no problem taking orders, hell, that was his life. He had a problem taking orders from people who had no place to be issuing them, let alone in the place of technical and actual superiors. Far as he was aware, Inquisition trumped pretty much any organization when it came to the whole level of authority.

When the Cannoness decided to make a comment on termination, the silence afterwords was disturbed by a snort of amusement from the Armsman as he met her gaze with a dead even stare right back. The hellish burn of hatred in her eyes was met with a frigid glare in return, the disdain and utter contempt for her threat equal in level with her own glare. No, frankly, she would not be 'terminating' anyone. He would no break the gaze off first, but once she continued on he would continue to leave the icy cold glare locked onto right where she had met his own gaze. Any other day, he would have at least tried to be respectful and not be a pain in the ass. But he was sick and tired of how things had gone on this planet already, reinforcing his preference to never set foot planetside when able, without the advent of psyker powers and countless problems with Chaos, and even the Sisterhood itself early on. Now he had this Cannoness strutting around like she was the end all, be all of this operation. This is why he preferred Naval and Guard assets, when doing joint operations. Naval was in house, and Guard was typically far more tolerable and you knew what you were dealing with. Sororitas, the zealots tended to do things that did not make sense from a tactical manner, due to their faith and burn it all mentality. Sure, each individual was different, like Sis for example, but then there were the ones like this Cannoness. She was going to get them all killed, and that look in her eyes was distinctively abnormal for some faithful, pious being.

As she finished, the Armsman stood up without being dismissed or requesting as such, cracking his neck and picking up the Galvanic rifle. He couldn't be sneaking that along, not an oversized rifle meant for cogboys, so that would have to be stored for a mission that wasn't meant for being subtle. But he left the Cannoness with a parting comment, turning as he was really not looking forward to spending any moment longer in her company than he could possibly avoid. If Smiles had something to give him or show him, she would have to either catch him upstairs, or in their transport. "Being subtle is fine and all, but drop the blatant threats, Andromedai. Poor leadership, poor judgement, and unimaginative all rolled up into one depressingly common ball of a 'Leader'. Besides, if memory serves, no one executes agents of the Inquisition without either their consent, or a legitimately damn good reason. Your weapons will probably thaw after we've left." It hadn't been a conscious or even intentional gesture, but the temperature had dropped again when Stukov squared off his retaliatory comments towards the Cannoness, and anyone who knew Stukov for a long period of time would realize that using someone's full name was not a good sign from him. Her weapons motors and actions would be ice blocks, the cold gradually fading as the Armsman walked back upstairs, and while he was not happy with the warp powers manifesting, he couldn't help but approve of how they did.

Knowing he was going to have to leave the Galvanic rifle behind, he locked it away before looking at the clothing laid out for him to wear. Most of it was not terribly comfortable looking, and there was far too many ties. He had no idea how to wear a tie, so he went with the militaristic looking dress uniform, since it didn't seem like he was getting out of having to dress nicely. He chose a coat that would hide his armor and pistol, and would not be asked for at the door, and his knife was hidden in his boot. The one that was not bionic, at any rate. He still questioned how no one would confront him on the crude bionics, since most rich noble types would have equivalent bionics. But the attire was matte black, with no signs of metal or fancy flourishes. It was a very simple attire, but suitable for a formal affair. Very much the attire of a no nonsense veteran, or a bodyguard. Or both. But if Smiles didn't intercept him, he would make his way down to the transport and find his seat, not saying a word as he instead focused on his plans. He had ditched the non lethal ammo, not like his Naval pistol would punch through heavy enough carapace or power armor anyways, and was carrying ammo designed to punch through armor. Sure, wouldn't do much to power armor, but it would make a right mess of most anything else.

Adrianne would watch the short exchange between Stukov and the canoness with a subtle smirk on her face. While she had initially been a little bit apprehensive about Stukov speaking up, she had quickly become amused by the scene.

Stukov may have been correct when he had said that the cannoness had no real right to kill a member of an inquisitor's retinue. But Adrianne knew very well that for the Ecclesiarchy, the law tended to be more flexible, and ideas of piety and 'respect' usually came before any judicial scripts that had not been sanctified.

Although she refrained from making any comment during the briefing, Adrianne would pass Stukov on her way back to her room, slipping him a quiet whisper.

"Nice show."

She would say, before continuing to her room. It was a little bit annoying to have to immediately leave her suit and armor, especially considering that it wasn't so long ago that she had put them on. But then again, she was in the vanguard, and this was a social gathering; meaning that subtlety would trump protection.

Unraveling any knots and straps that attached the armored plates to her suit and levitating them over to her bed, she would strip out of the biosuit to find the clothes laid out for her.

It was quite a collection that the sisters had brought them. While they may have been stuck up; Adrianne thought; they at least made sure to provide their minions with choice, at least insofar as fashion was concerned. Going through the dresses and gowns, Adrianne quickly found the one she wanted to wear.

It was a deep blue, almost purple glittering dress, with a cut at the thigh revealing her leg and a generous opening above the chest to reveal an ample amount of cleavage. To go along with it was a thin, blue silk cloak that ran down to her waist, the fabric thin enough to the point one could easily see through it, and with numerous purple lines formed into intricate patterns across it. Her pale, white hair would rest on her shoulders, with a large portion of it running down her back in a tied ponytail. Finally, she would pick up a refractor field generator in the shape of a fancy, silver-painted metal belt that would hang from around her hips in the form of numerous small chains, narrowing down towards the front where a fashionable blue crystal of some kind was attached to the middle of the socket.

Everything so far had been easy. But when it came to the high heels that were apparently a part of the set, Adrianne would find herself pausing as she looked at them.

Truly, she had almost never worn high heels before in her life. Sandals, military boots or heavy grav boots; no problem. But she could not remember the last time she had ever had to wear high heels!

Raising an eyebrow at them, Adrianne would simply shrug and put them on. Putting them on was simple enough, even if they were a little cramped.

Turning towards the window, Adrianne could see her psyber raven waiting in it; the dark feathered bird staring at her ever patiently with its changing cybernetic eye. Reaching over to the corner of her bed, Adrianne would pick up her staff, handing it over to the raven whom accepted it with its claws.

"Take this and stay close. You will know what to do." Adrianne said with a smirk, handing her staff to the psyber raven which quietly flew out from her window and out across the darkening horizon with the staff.

She was not so worried about leaving the rest of her weapons behind for the trip. She was a psyker after all, and the most dangerous weapon she had was with her all the time; her mind.

"I should probably get back to the others."

Adrianne thought to herself, turning around. But as she moved to take her very first step towards the door, she would be surprised when the heel of her shoe caved in to the side under her, and she was launched forward and down towards the ground.

"WHOOA,-"

*CRASH*

---------------------------------------------------------

Moments later, Adrianne would arrive back in the apartment, secretly rubbing a small bruiser under her hair above her face.

She would soon catch up with Stukov, who was on his way to the transport as well. Walking up next to him, Adrianne would give him a nudge on the shoulder.

"Impressive outfit, apprentice. I had to look twice to make sure it was you." She would comment, motioning towards Stukov's outfit with a smirk. Holding up a wooden casket, the same which she had brought to the dinner earlier, she would hand it to Stukov.

"Here, this one is for you. I think you will find it to your liking."

Adrianne would explain as she nodded towards the casket. Contained within would be a thin, sleep ceremonial saber contained within a matte black and gold trimmed scabbard. While it initially might have looked like a normal, if well made saber, it was in truth a force weapon; visible to a trained eye in the form of an intricate pattern of some strange, deep blue ore that ran across the side of the blade.

"It is my old force blade. I have not used it for years, but I think you might find it to your liking." Adrianne would explain.
"And, if I may say so, I think the scabbard is even matching to your dress."

The nudge got his attention, and Stukov glanced over and barely was able to stop himself from double taking. Apparently going from an armored battle suit, thing, whatever the hell Smiles called her usual attire to formal wear was quite the jarring shift. But officers also liked to traipse around in fancy garb when off duty, so he had experience enough in not double taking or ogling the women folk when they were in fancy formal wear. Especially since the officers wouldn't take kindly to such things and he had heard horror stories of absolute alpha bitches that would have otherwise innocent Armsman and crew executed for not being formal enough around them. Never made sense to him, really, but he was not going to address that little problem here or now. Instead he chuckled at her comment on his attire, and promptly hated the grating mechanical noise it made. Great.

"Your one to talk, Smiles. If my garb is impressive, yours is a show stopper." Unlike Smiles, who had taken to calling him apprentice, Stukov was not going to change his habits that readily. Besides, he called no man or woman his master. Sir, Ma'am, or Boss. Those were the big three, but there was only one being he would ever bend a knee to, and he was orbiting a distant star. But his train of thought digressed, and when offered the wooden case, shaped like a casket, he took it with a cocked eyebrow of curiosity. As she explained its contents, he opened up the casket to look at the blade itself.

Saber, popular among officers, Naval and, from what he was told, cavalry especially, almost always power weapons. Granted, in this case, it was the psyker variant. Her old force blade, eh? Holding the sheath, he flicked his wrist forward, propelling the blade out into his waiting hand and examined the blade. Blue pattern, crystalline of some sort or another, otherwise indistinguishable from a well made sword. He could feel sympathetic resonations from the blade's construction back through him, but it wasn't quite right. Probably since it wasn't built for him, it wouldn't quite match. Then again, hell if he knew how this tech sorcery of a blade worked, so the fact it hadn't blown up in his face was progress enough for him.

Sheathing the blade with a nod of approval, he hooked it onto his belt, above his left hip to promote a cross draw should he need to produce the blade in a fight. Looking over himself, he snorted in disbelief before commenting idly, to no one in particular at first. "Emperor preserve me, I could readily pass for a damned Officer. Minus the pay." Seated in the transport, which he would have preferred been flying to some degree, his arms crossed over the matte black coat he wore, noting the attire of the others as well. Pretty much everyone was better dressed than him, which was how it should be in Stukov's mind. He was a grunt, no need for over fancy attire. Yet here he was, sitting in what would pass for an Officer's attire. He could cover as a Naval attache of sorts, perhaps. That might work, considering what he knew about void work. Glancing at Smiles again, he half closed his eyes and rested his head back against the transport hull. "Alright Smiles, I'm assuming the blade feels slightly off since it wasn't made for me in specific? That, and for having your attire picked out by Sororitas, you'll stand out more so than the rest of us combined."

Adrianne smirked when Stukov commented on her attire.

"The sisters only brought the collection. I was the one who chose it." She explained, pleased to know her outfit had not gone unnoticed.
"I was positively surprised. I did not exactly expect the power armored nuns to be bringing me something so daring."

Stukov's discomfort in the suit was painfully obvious. He quite literally acted like a dog who had just been forced to wear a shirt, and was overacting every movement.

On the other hand, she herself found herself in the complete opposite situation. She quite enjoyed having a legitimate opportunity to wear something other than some dull acolyte robes or her super serious armor. To her, being able to wear a fancy dress like any normal person was a truly liberating experience. It made her feel so alive. So excited! Everything was better!

... well, except maybe the shoes.

"I love the outfit, but what chaos god was it that brought high heels into the world?!"

Admittedly, she had seen them on other woman who had made them look quite fancy, but it was something she herself seemed completely incapable of.

She may have had the confidence, but every stride was a trial; making her almost mimick the armsman's own overacting!

"I'm of half a mind to just levitate myself the rest of the way to the vehicle!"

Adrianne would eventually resign to leaning on Stukov's arm for support for the rest of the walk to the vehicle, regardless of what the armsman might have thought. As they entered the vehicle, Adrianne would find her seat next to him and give the man a smile.

"The reason it feels off is probably because you are still unfamiliar with force weaponry." Adrianne would speak, nodding at the sword at his side.
"It was not custom made for me. It was an old relic that I won in a sword fighting tournament back at the Institute. Force weapons are as unique as normal weapons. Some have been part of a mass production process, others were custom made. Like with any other weapon, a psyker must spend time to learn and attune himself to his weapon. Of course, some might just happen to be closer to your original style, but you can master any force weapon you find - provided you have the will, time and patience."

At that time, Adrianne would turn her attention to Zhevon's comment about the truck. It did indeed seem strange to her, to be arriving at a party in a large, armored truck whilst wearing fancy garbs.

"We're not going for a frontal assault, are we... ?"

"I do second the Inquisitor's concern. Arriving in a heavily armored truck to a social party - especially one that we supposedly have stolen from them - seems; at the very best; suspicious!"

Adrianne knew well enough that if a bunch of strangers would have showed up to her party; assuming she was some big, evil boss of a shadowy organization; exiting a COMBAT VEHICLE that clearly used to belong to her organization, coupled with the fact that a vehicle had been stolen earlier, it would set off all sorts of red warning signs in her mind!

“I understand everyone’s concern over the heavily armored truck but I assure you that I have everything under control and that I know what I am doing. If you do not trust me, you can remove yourself from the vehicle and walk the distance to the party. The Psykers could just levitate themselves and take the chance of being seen, which would be extremely dangerous but that’s none of my business.” said the Adepta Sororitas who had pressed her right foot down upon the throttle, sending the truck lurching forward through the streets. As the armored truck moved towards its destination, the clouds that had gathered earlier that day slowly vanished, giving way to a brilliantly clear night sky, where the stars glowed brightly alongside the planets two moons. The temperature outside had dropped from a comfortable [75F/23.8C] to a refreshing but still cold [55F/12.7C] as night finely overtook that side of the world. “Pardon me, my apologies…” said Aviza as she stood up from her seat and made her way to the front of the truck, taking a seat next to the driver and shutting the hatch behind her that she managed to squeeze through. The front of the truck was silent besides the sound of its heavy engine as it made its way through the streets, Avizaa coughed lightly before speaking. “The front of the truck is sound proof from behind correct? When the hatch is closed?” the driver nodded her head, keeping her eyes on the road in front of her. “That’s good.” There was an awkward paused as the two of them looked out onto the road, passing buildings of multiple types, civilians and military personal.

“There are two Psykers in your squad Aviza. If you do not mind me saying, I am surprised Canoness Andromedai did not kill them both on the spot, with or without approval from the Inquisitor. I understand they are part of your squad and may prove useful for the time, what happens when the inquisitor releases them from his duty? They will be our problems then, how many would you recommend we bring with us to put them down?” Aviza rubbed the bridge of her nose for an awkward moment of silence before responding. "If either myself or more importantly Andromedai wanted them dead, they would already be. The male Psyker named Stukov is not that bad, he only lacks common sense and respect for others, also likes to run his mouth and should learn when to keep it shut. Mark my words, one of these days he is going to say the wrong thing to someone and end up dead. Now the female Psyker named Adrainne has quite a bit of common sense and is generally a nice person, if she were not a Psyker she would be a prime choice for the Adepta Sororitas.” There was a long and silent pause as the two of them thought, and then Aviza opened her mouth and admitted something without putting too much thought into the consequences. “I am unsure as to why, but for some bizarre reason that concerns me, I have grown quite fond of the female Psyker, more than what would be considered normal.” The truck swerved into the wrong lane before correcting itself. “Bah! What?! Ah! Sorry sorry…” The driver calmed herself and waited a moment before responding. “I do not know, I am just as lost and as confused as you. What do I do? Talk to Andromedai? Go in for a Pych-check? Maybe have a partial memory wipe after the mission?”

The driver remained silent, thinking hard on the subject before shaking her head back and forth, “I have no right to speak on such things, but due to the circumstances I am going to ignore that rule for now and say that speaking to Canoness Andromedai as soon as possible would be the best option.” The data-pad lit up in front of the driver, showing her an overhead view of the city, they were very close to their drop point now. “This will be handled later Aviza, I will not say a word and will leave it up to you. As for now, if I may, it’s better to focus on the mission and leave all of that behind until the time is appropriate.” With a nod of her head, Aviza agreed and remained silent for the rest of the trip. Only a short few moments would pass before the truck would pull over, the driver leaned back and opened the hatch. “Get out you freeloaders, your welcome for the ride.” She said this with a smile, obviously teasing them. Once Aviza and the rest had unloaded from the transport a block away from the mansion, the large truck turned around and started to head in its own direction. “Have fun, don’t get into too much trouble, even more so with a certain Psyker.” The truck vanished into the distance. Paying no attention, Aviza started to walk in the direction of the mansion without saying a word to anyone. Once she turned the corner and was facing the mansion, she took a deep breath and waited for the others to catch up with her. The mansion was a massive Victorian looking building, four stories tall.

The exterior was painted with black as a primary color and gold as its secondary color. Saying the mansion was “Lavishly decorated” was a gross understatement. Out in front of the mansion were a number of vehicles that ranged from military to civilian, and some people had even brought small, one person airships. The area around the mansion was covered in a soft green grass that had a couple patrons walking upon it, conversing with eachother. As if on approval of their arrival, fireworks shot up from behind the building and exploded in the sky with an impressive pyrotechnic display. “To bad we can’t just bomb the mansion, would make this so much easier.” Said Aviza to mostly herself before walking with the others to the large metal gate where two elite royal guards were watching the entrance and checking people’s invitations. Each of them held large energy weapons that were loaded and ready to be fired if someone attempted something stupid. “Halt! Show us your invitation and await confirmation.” One of the guards yelled at Aviza with a booming, inhuman voice. Aviza approached the guards and handed the invitation over to one of them. The two looked it over quickly then handed it back to Aviza, their tone had changed to a much softer one. “Welcome Solares and friends, Baron Vastok and Mistress Zara welcome you to their estate and hope you all will have a fantastic evening.” The other guard spoke now, “In only a short while, Vastok and Zara will join the party, which marks the arrival of dinner. Lines do form early so if you are truly hungry, you may want to head their first.” Aviza bowed lightly and thanked the guards for their information before heading through the gate with the rest. Once arriving at the two massive front doors made of what seemed to be a rare metal, they opened by themselves.

Two more guards had opened the doors for them and were waiting for the group to enter. “Thank you gentlemen.” said Aviza, as she stepped inside of the house. To her surprise, the inside of the house was very tastefully decorated with mostly white and gold, with hints of darker colors scattered around. Live music came from a room nearby, the song was a tango, and one of Aviza’s favorites. The doors shut behind them and Aviza, turned around to Adrainne. “This may sound strange Adrianne, and I apologize for any discomfort it may bring but I was wondering.” There was a pause before the Sister of Battle spoke once more, looking into the Psykers eyes with her own. “The song that is playing is called Por Una Cabeza, it is my favorite tango. I was wondering if you would do me the honor of joining me. The dance is easy, it is fun, and I will teach you it, what do you say? Just this once for the hell of it, please?”

https://youtu.be/GrWv500P2hg Por Una Cabeza by Carlos Gardel

The last thing Stukov had even remotely expected was the sudden leaning that Smiles had taken to, using him to support her movement on the high heels the rest of the way towards the transport. Her commentary on the outfit would have gotten a shrug if he had not shifted to more readily support the psyker's movements in the apparently unfamiliar attire. Seems she was having some trouble too, which was a relief in the sense that he wasn't the only one going to stand out like a sore thumb. Beyond that, as he escorted her to the transport, she did do the 'daring' outfit credit, he had to admit. He found himself saying as much as they neared the transport, movement slowed a bit by Smiles' actions. "Sister picked or no, it does look good on you."

While in the transport, Stukov listened to what Smiles had to say on the force weapon and the fact he was just not attuned to it yet, to grossly simplify what she was saying down to his level. Alright, so wield the thing enough, and he can stop feeling subtly awkward with it. Made enough sense, he supposed, it just added this whole extra layer of psyker power weirdness to it. Resting his hand on the blade, he half closed his eyes and focused on the blade. He didn't know any of the psyker tricks or craziness of attuning weapons or whatever nonsense it was, but he reached out to the blade as felt natural. He had an affinity with weapons, after all, it was only those and his training that kept him from death time and time again. He didn't always have the luxury of being able to take a bunch of time to grow perfectly in tune with a weapon, so he had no intent of doing so now either. It would accept him, by the time it was needed, and there was no alternative.

"Force weapons aren't user specific, got it. So you went and gave me some ancient relic, this is all definitely above my paygrade still. I don't think we have the luxury of a slow learning process, however. So the blade will obey, and that is that." Stukov didn't have time to play silly buggery games of attuning weapons and the like, so he wouldn't play them. By that time, however, they had arrived as Sis turned over her contained invitations and they were admitted, he had to admit one thing. The amount of grandeur and pompous air was almost sickening. Coupled with the feeling of raw excess, he couldn't stand this place already. Solares and friends, eh? Well, he adjusted his collar as they walked into another den of evil, as he already pegged the area to be. Before he could make comments or ask about what the plan was, Sis took the lead in a most unusual sense.

Sis asked Smiles to a dance? Er, had the world gone topsy turvy or was a Sister of Battle asking a Sanctioned Psyker to dance? Stukov shot a glance at the two of them, and decided to try out a new trick the tech priests said he had now. He could send vox messages without verbalizing words, thanks to the bionic replacement of his voice box, and he sent a discreet message to Boss, and Boss alone first."How do we operate here, Boss? Pair off and act inconspicuous or stick together?" He kept a careful eye on his surroundings, ensuring he did nothing to attract attention from the guards as he took in their surroundings carefully. He was also watching Sis and Smiles, since that had been a rather awkward approach on Sis' part, as far as the Armsman was concerned. But, waiting on a response from Boss, he would keep a careful watch while trying to not stand out terribly so.

"Treat it like you would any other weapon, and it will serve you well." Adrianne replied to Stukov's skeptical attitude towards the sword with a smile. Force weapons might indeed be of a more sophisticated, subtle design than a normal saber or lasgun, but when it came to practice; many of the same rules applied to it as any other weapon.

Patience and learning. Those were the keys to success. Like any weapon, it simply required one to familiarize oneself with it.

When they arrived at their destination however, Adrianne's mind would quickly drift away from any thoughts that she might have had about the plan with the truck or Stukov's concern about his new weapon. Instead, her attention would be fully focused on her new, fantastical surroundings in the form of the lavish mansion, luxurious garden and the grandiose fireworks above it.

Not being limited to her suit meant that she could feel the cool night air against her skin and breathe it in. Already from the outside she could smell a plethora of new things, from the distant foods, the perfumes of the other guests and the distinct, fresh smell of the surrounding garden.

"This is amazing!"

Although this was a scene not new to her, her position in it was. She had seen plenty of lavish parties like this before, but this was perhaps the first time she had been an actual guest to one!

As they walked towards and into the mansion, Adrianne would be walking with Stukov. But the whole way, her eyes would be scanning from side to side, turning her head to follow the events around her. Indeed, assuming that she even tried, she did a terrible job at hiding the amazement on her face. Looking at the decorations, people's clothes, banners, fireworks; she found herself constantly turning around at a rapid pace.

“This may sound strange Adrianne, and I apologize for any discomfort it may bring but I was wondering.”

"Whu... ?"

It was not until the sisters asked her for a dance that Adrianne's head would suddenly snap back and look at the sister for a moment, the psyker raising a brow in surprise as if she was unsure what Aviza had actually meant behind her words.

A moment of confusion ensued, as Adrianne simply stared at Aviza, then at Stukov, then back at Aviza.

"Weeelll.... I don't really... " Adrianne began, her eyes trailing over to one of the large open spaces in the mansion where a number of people were already dancing.

"To the warp with any doubt, Adri! How hard can it really be?! You've killed daemons, for terra's sake!"

Thinking to herself for a moment, Adrianne's expression would soon turn into a smile, as she looked over to Stukov.

"Right, I'll go for that dance. Just gesture if you need any help!" She quickly explained, before she took Aviza's hand and followed the sister. However, as she had taken but a few steps away from Stukov, she would lean in towards Aviza however slightly, and whisper: "I got no clue how to dance... "

“Get out you freeloaders, your welcome for the ride. Have fun, don’t get into too much trouble, even more so with a certain Psyker.” Their driver teased. Once Zhevon exited the vehicle he was half glad that it wasn't the only military grade vehicle there. Other guests arrived in ships even, wearing garb from fabulous to grand military styles. As they were allowed in, he noted their armor and weapons, possible weakpoints and strengths. Although it was somewhat covered in the briefing, he preferred to observe the targets with his own eyes. When they entered the grand mansion there were dozens of guests already mingling, dancing, drinking. He looked over the guests and evaluated what he could see, those with multiple glasses of wine would likely have a looser tongue. He observed how the military guests held themselves, most of them as he suspected were not warriors, they were too lax. However a few seemed very vigilant, even during a party like this. A lot could go wrong, he thought. Thankfully on the way here he retasked Gregor and his teams to be on stand by in case they would need reinforcements.

The group then halted, Zhevon, very elegantly, almost stumbled over himself over the abrupt halt. Aviza then asked Adrianne for a dance. Zhevon looked at the two of them, Stukov did the same. Adrianne looked at them with a look of confusion.
The combead in his ear then buzzed open, "How do we operate here, Boss? Pair off and act inconspicuous or stick together?", while the voice was still a little unfamiliar the way it was said was obvious. Stukov meant business, likely to get the mission over with as soon as possible so he could get out of his fancy garb. As Aviza and Adrianne walked off towards the dance floor, Zhevon spoke up in reply, "I'm not sure about you but I have no intention of dancing. For now, we'll pair off and act inconspicuous. Then come back together in some time, perhaps during the dinner, to share what we have found out." He looked towards Stukov and saw his force saber at his hip, "Do you know how to use the saber?"