BCTheEntity

~Of Flames and Fantasy~

Republic of Rumanaya, Principal Admiralty of Maine

A Diplomatic Discussion Between Rumanayan Envoys and Maine's Vice Admiral, a collaboration between @BCTheEntity and @Spiffy

The Principal Admiralty of Maine is stationed on and around a nearby archipelago, so the boat sent to them as a diplomatic party consists of one indaj and a few kobolds, with no elves present as part of the part.

The diplomats are escorted to the Admiralty's flagship the P.A.S. Jackson to meet with a linguist and and the Vice Admiral Barnabas.
Once the envoy is present, they attempt to reach basic understanding of Rumanayan language.

All Rumanayans are impressed with the ship and how it floats despite being metal, especially at least one kobold who can't get enough of all the technology. That's a given, of course.
Once they're in the room and visual greetings have been offered, the indaj, a Priest of Peace, drops to one knee and begins what seems to be a prayer, whilst the kobolds work on helping transcribe all three languages once they figure out what is happening. Some time later, the Priest begins to apparently speak in the Admiralty's tongue fluently, despite the obvious initial issues. Writing remains relatively incoherent, but talking with them and sorting those things out is now much simpler, even if the humans still need to go through the indaj to communicate with the kobolds.

Greetings

The formal/religious greeting of Rumanaya is a combination of three hand gestures: hands together and splayed from the thumbs, representing Mother Nature; two fists curled together, representing Brother Strength; and palms crossed over and pressed to the chest, representing Sister Peace.

The vice admiral will offer a military salute and inquire their intentions.

Their intent is simply to extend a hand of friendship, as a starting point. It's certainly unusual to have new groups in the area, especially humans bearing what seem to be vessels and equipment of... the phrase that comes out is "unusual potency", but it's fairly obvious the concept of modern technology is slightly difficult for the Priest to comprehend.

Barnabas accepts the hand of friendship, and offers an official naval ballpoint black pen to the priest.
He asks afterward if his nation would be kind enough to help deal with their fungus problem on their various islands regarding their crops. It has been decimating their viability. Not to mention the pests eating their own stores of food, some dangerous and poisonous.

The pen is much too small for the indaj to use effectively, and a little large for the kobolds; still, it's handed to one of the more excited kobolds, who immediately gets to work examining it in as much detail as possible with a big toothy grin.
As for the fungus and pest issue, the Priest says they can't make any promises, but that they could certainly petition a Priest of Nature or two to come and examine the issue and see what can be done, if anything.

The vice admiral seems a little skeptical of the idea that a priest could somehow solve the issue. However, with the recent demonstration of language discernment he accepts. Then he inquires what the Republic of Rumanaya would like in return.

When the Priest mentions the idea of an exchange to his allies- notably addressing them with much different vocalisations than he uses toward the Vice Admiral, in reality a different tongue outright for the discerning- there's immediately a lot of chatter from the kobolds, especially the couple who have taken apart the pen. Shortly, the Priest suggests that whilst they'd be happy to help either way, perhaps some of their people- kobolds, specifically- might be permitted to examine certain aspects of their technology with supervision, and perhaps be granted an explanation of what, exactly, brings the Admiralty and others like them to their lands?
There is not, to wit, necessarily an understanding yet that the modern humans are literally off-worlders, at least from this Priest, but the request for what brings them there isn't conveyed with suspicion in the phrasing.

Barnabas discusses for a few minutes with advisors and begins speaking into some kind of box. Faint sounds come from it, but not discernable at their distance. After another few minutes he turns away from it. Then he addresses his guests:
"The Admiral wishes for the fungal and pest problems to be neutralized. In exchange for your assistance he offers you the chance to examine our fishing craft top down. In addition, we offer you a "communication box" or as we call "radio." With it we can contact you from a distance." A female naval officer steps into the room with a brown box, with a metal line sticking from the top. She places it on the table in front of your group. Then she begins basic instructions on how to use it - it is a short wave radio, designed to send and receive messages from a short distance.
"In regards to our origin, we would rather build trust between our nations before we reveal anything. The alternative is to simply make something up. However, our people do not tolerate deception. You understand, don't you?"

The Priest nods affably. They aren't a people who like to deceive others, themselves; one of the cores of a solid family is to ensure everybody is on the same page, after all. In any case, they thank the Vice Admiral and his crew for the gift and the opportunity, and agree to do what they can to help end the issues they're having with fungus and pest alike.

JoJo's Bizarre Adventure - Operation: Ground the Harpy

The woman's eyes narrowed as Taras spoke, clearly suspicious of his accent. This changed to surprise and a cry of shock rapidly as, to her perspective, her gun simply flew apart for no reason, followed by both Lilliane and Till informing her that, yes, she was outmatched, either by the small group she was facing or the Germans who would shortly be arriving, and she should probably take them somewhere a tad safer before she had to test the latter.

It took just a moment of thought to decide she should probably do as she was asked. 'Follow me,' she uttered as she turned and began moving away, gesturing in kind for the sake of those who clearly didn't understand what she was saying.

The surrounding streets, thankfully, had yet to show signs of any German activity, or indeed too much awareness of the shootout that had recently taken place. This changed swiftly, the sound of soldiers in the near distance enhancing the urgency of the situation, but it thankfully didn't take too long for them to reach the destination the woman had in mind: an alleyway, and in turn an unremarkable brown door, swiftly unlocked and everybody ushered in and up a connecting flight of stairs with hushed 'In, in, in's and 'Up, up, up's from the woman, this time in accented English. Once everyone was through the entrance, she looked around the area once more before entering herself and locking the door behind her several times over, following them up to what must have been an intermediary safe room, for it was relatively undecorated save bland floral wallpaper, hastily put-together bedding and cloth-cushioned floorboards, and a kitchen with barely the essential utensils. Only once the doorway into this room was closed and locked did she let herself relax ever so slightly.

'...so, you claim to not be with the Boche,' she began slowly, eyeing each of them with concern, though evidently laying Lilliane's share of that upset upon Till in particular. 'This does not ensure you aren't helping them, nor does it make us friends. Nonetheless, you have seen the, ah, freaks? The, how do you say...' She frowned and twirled her hand for a moment, clearly trying to summon the phrasing to mind. 'Ghouls? Possessed men? The English escapes me, but the ones that appear to be "away from home". And survived, in fact. I wonder how.'

@Zoey Boey@Yankee@OwO@knifeman@Lady Selune

~Of Flames and Fantasy~

The Republic of Rumanaya

High Priest of Strength Addresses Queen Leinani of the Qalyxh Isles

‘Dear High Priest,’ the Queen intoned imperiously, ‘perhaps I have not explained the urgency of my people’s situation thoroughly enough?’

‘Your majesty, I assure you, we are all thoroughly aware of the need to manage your people’s plight in swift order,’ Pema Faham assured her, again, for the fourth day in a row. ‘That cannot happen without-’

‘It can readily happen, High Priest, if you would but persuade your people of the necessity of helping those in need by taking back what has been wrongfully stolen! Do you not value such things?’ she interrupted, leading Pema to stroke his trunk with one hand. Family, but she was trying, and apparently she had it in mind that his position as a “mere” High Priest put him beneath her in status. Technically, this might be true, if one considered the Ruling Council the highest authority. That, however, would be like claiming one individual could know all - they were leaders politically, he and his fellow High Priests were religiously-inclined experts, and they had plenty of other roles to fill in besides. A modicum of respect would be appreciated, regardless.

‘Once again, I must be clear that war is not my decision to pursue,’ he stated, firmly enough to ascertain his position without offending her - and yet, offended she was, by the curl of her lip. ‘I could certainly rile indaj and kobold alike, bring them to match your mindset of war against those occupying your kingdom and so persuade the Council. However, your majesty, doing so would be effortful and over-costly on too many avenues, not least discussions with other nearby human colonies; it would be an overreach of my authority as High Priest of Strength; and moreover, it would be a gross violation of the Family’s principles.’

‘A gross violation!’ she cried dramatically, practically false-fainting in her chair. ‘It isn’t considered gross that those, those, invasive humans would dare slaughter our people like chattel!’ He was quite glad she at least took the courtesy of meeting him privately rather than publicly - his sanctum was not too decorated, certainly more ascetic than the temple proper, of red and grey cloth representing blood and people as it had long before even the arrival of the little dragons. Moreover, it was well away from prying eyes and over-sensitive ears.

‘We... do not approve of their attacks, if they are indeed unprovoked,’ he stated, raising a hand to keep her from continuing her rant, ‘but it has never been our way to fight when other options are available. If a misunderstanding was reached, then a diplomatic solution would be far more helpful, for your people and for mine. I ask you again to consider: if we sent an invasion force, limited as our naval capacity is, their magics, or weapons, or whatever forces they bring to bear, could easily destroy your capital outright, long before we could help. How many more elves would perish, consequently?’

‘Too-! Ahem. Too many.’

‘Indeed, your majesty. But a smaller team, a few indajah Priests and a number of kobolds and the finest elven diplomats you can offer, could approach them peaceably, and set out suitable... what’s the word, payback? Repayment? Forgive me, my mind is not the trap it used to be, but you know well that is the course we have been pursuing.’ Age was a terrible thing. Physically, Pema Faham was as fit and strong as he’d ever been in his youth, if rather more wrinkled, courtesy of Brother Strength. Mentally, though, he knew he was degrading somewhat. It was natural, but it was not welcome per se.

‘Ah, I see what you mean,’ the Queen stated sagely, nodding as if she’d known all along even as she gesticulated her apparent understanding. ‘You’ve sent these diplomats in, they’ll engage in these peace talks... and when the leaders have their guard down, the assassinations will happen, and we’ll strike whilst the humans are in chaos.’

Now Pema Faham lost his composure, even if it was as simple as burying his face in his hands and allowing a faint, trumpeting sigh to escape him. ‘No, your majesty,’ he corrected, looking down at her sternly, once more struck by how incredibly extravagant her outfit was. A dress of blue silks and bright gemstones clung to a lightly-tanned frame, far more restrictive than might be considered reasonable for ruling purposes, let alone sailing purposes. But then, her people were accomplished sailors... ‘They’ll engage in peace talks to come to an agreement, one that can be approved by all sides. The humans who have invaded you may choose to accept or decline the terms, and if the talks break down and they refuse all terms, then perhaps you may sway the Ruling Council or myself on the matter of counter-invasion. Until then,’ he concluded, ‘it is out of my hands.’

‘Hmph. Strength, indeed,’ Leinani scoffed, her arms folded. Ever so gently, Pema rested one hand on her shoulder in compassion, dainty as it was; she immediately shrugged him off and stood to leave, but he hoped the point to come would be clear.

‘Strength comes in many forms,’ he offered, his tone a balm of sorts. ‘The strength to fight is but one aspect; strength of heart is another, as is the strength to forgive one’s enemies for their failings.’

‘Psh. I cannot forgive my kin’s murder.’ And that was the crux, ultimately, the High Priest reckoned as Queen Leinani strode out in her strange and semi-ethereal fashion. Her child had passed, undeniably at the hands of La Flotille Atlantique; she, her husband the King, and in a way her whole nation grieved for him still. It was the impenetrable scale, as kobolds often said, the single issue they wouldn’t strike around - and it had to be factored into any and all such talks. He could only hope the envoys sent would find a way to render all parties suitably appeased on their side, and that the offended parties would eventually accept on his.

~Of Flames and Fantasy~

The Republic of Rumanaya

Persona ~ The Beholder

Interacting with Kirsty @Lugubrious, Liam @CriticalHit, and The Raven @LetMeDoStuff

Alina Sanford

Events moved fast. A little too fast for Alina to fully process before everything kicked off, in fact.

First came Kirsty's clone. That wasn't just wordplay, even - save the fact this clone had yellow eyes rather than red, and was dressed to the sodding nines, they were doppelgangers of one another, and the clone was insistently polite about being a good host. The fact Kirsty failed to realise it, even after extended consideration, had Alina sort of... looking between them. Like, seriously? Kirsty. Kirsty. That's you Kirsty. Or... something?

Next, the... Alina assumed one of the things stalking them before. The human-sized one. The... the human, yeah, definitely human, even though she dropped out of the sky like a rock. She assumed, anyway, since she was at least human-shaped, albeit masked, and was definitely holding a long knife and a gun at the trio, insisting that Kirsty and... Kirsty? Step away from each other. On top of this, the arrival once again of one of the boys from before only added to the confusion, as he himself loudly demanded an explanation for what was going on.

Where, uh... where did she get a gun? And why, inexplicably, did Alina agree with her? People didn't just grow identical twins, that was the thing. Not to mention the clone's response to the woman's arrival, immediately losing her cool and generating a wave of shadowy dark, dah, what. What in the-

'What?'

Alina's voice went practically unheard here. Not least because Kirsty agreed that they needed to get rid of the- well, on the one hand, it was her clone. On the other hand, she manifested minions. She... manifested... minions.

Her mind finally ticked into something like anger. What the fuck sort of nightmare situation was this? Was it a dream, or was she psychotic or something? What the actual hell? At least Kirsty herself recognised it, anyway - after a little too long - that something was in fact wrong with this fake Kirsty, to the point that she actively denied it being her. Which...

Made it turn into an angel with cow legs for wings.

'Oh what the fuck.'

The part of her which had been angry just shut down at that point. Nope, no, she wasn't dealing with this bullshit today. What had she expected out of the day, anyway? Not fucking this, but apparently that was what fate had decided was good for her, and for the rest of the gang who were gathered, so goody. And at first, this surge of utter acceptance drove her to start walking away, to the point of turning a corner away from the fight. Start booking it? She didn't need to be told twice, especially once the bullets started flying.

But then she stopped as she realised. Where? Where the hell was she going to book to? Elsewhere in this palace? Things weren't safer anywhere else in it. Back into that foggy not-reality? Not with those horror-beasts prowling. So... what then?

She didn't know. She had no idea what to do, or if she should help, or how she could help, or if she even wanted to help against this, this, thing. In the end, she rested her back against the nearest wall and slid down to sitting, wrapping her arms round her knees as she listened to the ensuing battle, and steadily twisted whatever feeling was left in her back upon herself.

'Coward. You coward. You suck. Can't do anything. Pathetic little Alina.'

JoJo's Bizarre Adventure - Operation: Ground the Harpy

Suffice to say, the cafe and likely former resistance outpost was a mess. The once-fancy dining room was left riddled with bullets, shells, circular holes and the corpses of the resistance members who had not been lucky enough to escape the wrath of the Germans, not to mention a roughly human-shaped hole in one wall from Lillianne’s tender ministrations. Cleaning and rebuilding would likely take a lot of time and money; restoration of the place to a safe resistance stronghold would likely never happen, not with the understanding that the entire city might as well be under the Reich’s watchful gaze, let alone the cafe.

As for that precise moment, however, the only obvious eyes were those of the gang - and, not too much time later, what appeared to be a returning customer, still dressed up for a night out in a long black ballgown, revealing herself from behind a chunk of table she was covering behind. And, seemingly, armed with both an expression that could melt lead, and a MAB Model D pistol, both now aimed at the quintet.

‘A-alright, you creeps,’ she uttered in perfect, if stammered French, ‘prove you’re not with the Wehrmacht. Prove it, or- or I’ll blow holes in the lot of you!’ This may or may not have been a wise threat to make, since she was outnumbered and threatening five Stand users with or without knowing it, but she did if nothing else have the advantage of already aiming a gun at them.

@Zoey Boey@Yankee@OwO@knifeman@Lady Selune

Warhammer 40k: Wheels within Wheels, an Inquisitorial RP

Statement for Tecca Nina

Tecca Nina is quite an imposing figure, and through her value to the Imperium and consequent rejuvenat treatment seems much younger than her true age of, by her estimation, 48 years. Tall and slender, she is pale-skinned and in possession of dark hair down to her shoulders, a combination of traits that many men would find highly attractive - were it not for her eye sockets, empty and permanently seared black by the scorching light of the God-Emperor's soul that once coursed through her. For politeness' sake, she tends to cover the hollows with a black blindfold bearing the symbol of the Adeptus Astra Telepathica on its front in pale blue, a neat and tidy covering for a gruesome disfigurement. Additionally, she wears long black robes that cover her body, themselves bearing both the symbol of her Adepta in pale blue on the front, the Imperial Aquila in white on her back, and the Aquila again in white on the hood.

Privately, these items of apparent cloth in fact double as protection from harm. Woven into them is a mesh of thermoplas cells that stiffen when subjected to kinetic energy and heat, dissipating that energy and keeping her safe from harm whilst remaining quite lightweight. Additionally, to those who might somehow think she is easy prey and are not deterred simply for being an astropath, she typicaslly carries on her person some form of pistol and mono-edge sword, evidence of her importance as the master of Lycus Xande's Astropathic Choir and indicators of her own lethality if provoked.

To say Tecca Nina is a severe woman is not exactly incorrect. The life experiences of a psyker once their powers awaken, and especially an astropath, are rarely positive in nature; hers have shaped her into a woman who will not tolerate being made light of by anybody, as in her mind she has gone through too much and come too far in spite of the odds stacked against her to allow such a thing. Consequently, those of higher rank than herself who disrespect her are generally treated with coolness, the bare minimum of civility required and no more, whilst those outright beneath her who do the same will receive naught but passive-aggressive insults, or indeed outright warnings if they go too far - never threats, though, because a threat is uncivil, and implies the possibility that you won't follow through when push comes to shove.

To everyone else, though, she does her best to be helpful, understanding, and occasionally even kind. The God-Emperor's mercy works in strange ways - those who are most harmed are often most belittled, a circumstance she is personally well-aware of, and whilst she does not look back on her past with fondness or indeed grace, it has informed her quite a bit. Thus, she tries to show empathy to those in need, even the rare alien that the Imperium has seen fit to welcome into its fold, albeit tinged with pity and stern recommendations for the many. It is but rarely that this folds to naught but empathy, almost always for her fellow sanctioned psykers such as the choir she now leads, and to them she truly does act graciously, for it is a crushing sort of kindred that they share.

Her relationship with the God-Emperor is... complex. Every psyker soul-bound to Him experiences the process in different ways if they do not die outright, from indescribable sensations to an enlightening discussion with Him. Some even expand their faith as a result, becoming the self-proclaimed Transubstantial Initiates that irk the Ecclesiarchy so. Nina falls into the somewhat broader category of astropaths who merely experience agony, though the sensation was certainly indescribable, and as a consequence she is of two minds. Was it necessary? Certainly; even her particular strategies would not have worked forever. Did it help her? Arguably; having a shard of the Emperor's soul tied to hers has certainly kept it safe from harm. Is she less enthused with Him as a result? Entirely - but then, she can hardly blame the God-Emperor directly. His agents are far more culpable as sinners, after all. To that end, when she does talk about her faith in Him, she tends to keep her statements modest, largely espousing kindness to others as she herself displays, if only to offset but slightly the cruelties both necessary and needless of the Imperium's more questionable servants.

That being said, to the heathen, the heretic, and especially the witch, she of course has nothing but contempt. Even now, coming to terms with a traumatic past has been a cripplingly hard task that often keeps her up until the late hours, but she at least accepts that the sanctioning process and the Soul-Binding that blinded her was a necessity to keep her safe from worse things. They who would avoid either or both, and ultimately they who would act against the God-Emperor Himself, are unworthy of His grace; at best to be directed to the Black Ships, at worst to be eliminated and forgotten, for that is the greatest kindness one can do them. Most xenos also fall into this category, but she is at least able to acknowledge that if her master were to take any on board, there would likely be a good reason for it. The Inquisition does not act lightly, after all.

---

A silent plain filled with twirling, be-ribboned dancers, jigging to an inaudible tune, with a king jigging hardest of all. The Governor of a nearby planet is inviting a friend in another subsector to a ball. It has been misdirected; it is sent on its way.

One minute twenty four seconds pass.

The tide grows. An ineffable green wave of screaming death approaches, and too few spears to repel it. Orks<likely feral> attacking a world, resupply needed. Relayed toward the relevant authorities in the Departmento Munitorum.

Thirty eight seconds pass.

A verdant missile lances into an oversized, cancerous heart. The heart burns away, to be replaced by one of steel and iron, already being aimed at. The Salamanders<Space Marines?> had a successful xeno-cleansing mission, but they're starting to come to blows with the Adeptus Mechanicus, who claim <terminology uncertain>lost technology may be present. Diplomatic support required. Relayed deeper into Imperial Space.

Five minutes seventeen seconds pass. A page is written in her mind on the subject of humanity facing a war against a new, powerful alien species.

No further astropathic messages.

As another astropath relieved her of duty for the time being, she breathed deeply, reconnecting to herself gradually as she traversed the halls of the facility back to her room. She began taking in a touch more detail as she passed through, making herself aware of the minute flaws in the individual plasteel panelling, scrapes and fractional dents, and the way footsteps echoed off of the walls and floor as if those flaws weren't present, and gradually the idea of emotion was remembered. Not that it mattered so much, under the circumstances, for after time spent in the Choir, there was rarely anyone who wished to do anything other than retreat into themselves for a while, just to be alone. And to make sure everything was still there.

Her space was relatively spartan. Furnished well enough, with a bed and a set of drawers for clothing and a shelf of reading material, and Adeptus Astra Telepathica symbology indicating that this was the room of an astro-telepath, but nothing especially personal. There hadn't been time in the Relay, or time before then in fact, to gather possessions unto oneself; even now, Nina had nothing particular in here that she might not replicate within her mind. Writing implements? Why put word to paper, when one had long since mastered the art of generating a novel in one's head? Though she might put in a request for them eventually; she'd started to come up with something she reckoned might be a hit across the Imperium, if she was allowed to publish it herself. Though she'd need people to read it before then to make sure it was properly formatted, and... well, there weren't many who she might ask at all, let alone people who'd be interested anyway.

And on the other hand, she didn't need anyone else to consider the newest trait of hers. In fact, it may be preferable for them to not know, depending on how they'd react. With a sigh, she began to draw just a portion of her psychic power out, projecting it gently across the facility. Where her perception had been limited to the scope of her room before, now every being within a wide berth became a clear marker to her - the astropaths in the Choir shined brightest, whilst the staff maintaining the place were dimmer, and the servitors projected but a spark of self even as they ran their protocols and menial tasks. To do this regularly was to teach herself better and better control, to keep her powers in check just so. The portion of the Emperor's soul within her was hardly going to just let her falter, naturally - but she'd rather not push the limits of His potency. He helped those who helped themselves, as it were... well, even then, she pondered, many never had the ability to. Such was the way of existence for far too many. Could he not spare just a little help for some of those in the Hives, maybe ensure they were-

Somebody was coming toward her room. She didn't know this soul, it glimmered differently. Immediately, she shut her power off, brushing down her robe and preparing to receive the inevitable rapping on her door... there it was. Striding smoothly to the doorway, she opened it up to receive her visitor.

'Hail, sir,' she uttered, taking in his details as she offered the Aquila, and received it in kind. Quite well put together, frankly. 'And what brings you to the quarters of a mere astropath?'

'I'd be correct to presume you are Astropath Tecca Nina, then?' His voice was not so much unemotional as uninflected, and the fact he knew her name already implied either the authority to find her by name, or intentional following her to learn it in advance.

'...I am, sir,' she nodded. Best to assume the former for now - as suspicion confirmed when the man pulled an unassuming brown wallet from his pocket, and opened it to reveal a sigil she'd been privy to many a time as a Relay, even if in this circumstance it implied follower rather than leader. She knew what it was...

'Excellent. You've been requested by Inquisitor Lycus Xande. He expects us to return within ten minutes; you should have time to gather anything you require.'

...but what it meant for her was a little unbelievable. An Inquisitor? Beneath her blindfold, Nina frowned. Was he for real? Did he expect her to... well. He certainly looked the part. And he had the rosette, after all...

But, she imagined she may not have a choice, even if she tried to refuse. Just like so many other events in her life. She could at least put on a brave face for this one.

'Of course, sir. I've nothing to gather, so shall we off?' she offered with a smile as genuine as she could provide, stepping out and closing the door behind her. 'I wouldn't want to keep an Inquisitor waiting, after all.' And she suspected she wouldn't see the inside of that room again, one way or another.

Warhammer 40k: Wheels within Wheels, an Inquisitorial RP

Astropath Transcendent (modified CS)

Name: Tecca Nina

Age: 48, if she was counting correctly.

Gender: Female

Race: Human psyker

Appearance: Tecca Nina is quite an imposing figure, and through her value to the Imperium and consequent rejuvenat treatment seems much younger than her true years. Tall and slender, she is pale-skinned and in possession of dark hair down to her shoulders, a combination of traits that many men would find highly attractive - were it not for her eye sockets, empty and permanently seared black by the scorching light of the God-Emperor's soul that once coursed through her. For politeness' sake, she tends to cover the hollows with a black blindfold bearing the symbol of the Adeptus Astra Telepathica on its front in pale blue, a neat and tidy covering for a gruesome disfigurement. Additionally, she wears long black robes that cover her body, themselves bearing both the symbol of her Adepta in pale blue on the front, the Imperial Aquila in white on her back, and the Aquila again in white on the hood.
Privately, these items of apparent cloth in fact double as protection from harm. Woven into them is a mesh of thermoplas cells that stiffen when subjected to kinetic energy and heat, dissipating that energy and keeping her safe from harm whilst remaining quite lightweight. Additionally, to those who might somehow think she is easy prey and are not deterred simply for being an astropath, she carries on her person both a hellpistol and a mono-edge sword, evidence of her importance as the master of Lycus Xande's Astropathic Choir and indicators of her own lethality if provoked.

Personality: To say Tecca Nina is a severe woman is not exactly incorrect. The life experiences of a psyker once their powers awaken, and especially an astropath, are rarely positive in nature; hers have shaped her into a woman who will not tolerate being made light of by anybody, as in her mind she has gone through too much and come too far in spite of the odds stacked against her to allow such a thing. Consequently, those of higher rank than herself who disrespect her are generally treated with coolness, the bare minimum of civility required and no more, whilst those outright beneath her who do the same will receive naught but passive-aggressive insults, or indeed outright warnings if they go too far - never threats, though, because a threat is uncivil, and implies the possibility that you won't follow through when push comes to shove.
To everyone else, though, she does her best to be helpful, understanding, and occasionally even kind. The God-Emperor's mercy works in strange ways - those who are most harmed are often most belittled, a circumstance she is personally well-aware of, and whilst she does not look back on her past with fondness or indeed grace, it has informed her quite a bit. Thus, she tries to show empathy to those in need, even the rare alien that the Imperium has seen fit to welcome into its fold, albeit tinged with pity and stern recommendations for the many. It is but rarely that this folds to naught but empathy, almost always for her fellow sanctioned psykers such as the astropath choirs stationed in Imperial ships, and to them she truly does act graciously, for it is a crushing sort of kindred that they share.
Her relationship with the God-Emperor is... complex. Every psyker soul-bound to Him experiences the process in different ways if they do not die outright, from indescribable sensations to an enlightening discussion with Him. Some even expand their faith as a result, becoming the self-proclaimed Transubstantial Initiates that irk the Ecclesiarchy so. Nina falls into the somewhat broader category of astropaths who merely experience agony, though the sensation was certainly indescribable, and as a consequence she is of two minds. Was it necessary? Certainly; even her particular strategies would not have worked forever. Did it help her? Arguably; having a shard of the Emperor's soul tied to hers has certainly kept it safe from harm. Is she less enthused with Him as a result? Entirely - but then, she can hardly blame the God-Emperor directly. His agents are far more culpable as sinners, after all. To that end, when she does talk about her faith in Him, she tends to keep her statements modest, largely espousing kindness to others as she herself displays, if only to offset but slightly the cruelties both necessary and needless of the Imperium's more questionable servants.
That being said, to the heathen, the heretic, and especially the witch, she of course has nothing but contempt. Even now, coming to terms with a traumatic past has been a cripplingly hard task that often keeps her up until the late hours, but she at least accepts that the sanctioning process and the Soul-Binding that blinded her was a necessity to keep her safe from worse things. They who would avoid either or both, and ultimately they who would act against the God-Emperor Himself, are unworthy of His grace; at best to be directed to the Black Ships, at worst to be eliminated and forgotten, for that is the greatest kindness one can do them. Most xenos also fall into this category, but she is at least able to acknowledge that if her master were to take any on board, there would likely be a good reason for it. The Inquisition does not act lightly, after all.

History

Born on the civilised world of Arteus III, Tecca Nina's early life was not precisely remarkable. Her family was middle class, they worked middle-class jobs for the Imperium, she went to a middle-class school, and under most other circumstances, Tecca Nina would have found herself a similarly middle-class job to work in until her old age. It was therefore unfortunate that one day, in her early- to mid-teens, she began to hear and see things at the edges of her senses - never coherent, but always distressing, and somehow goading in the process. What they goaded toward eventually became clear, as one day whilst being confronted by a bully, she lashed out with her mind, a blunt fist of psychic power knocking the girl unconscious against a locker in full view of a lot of terrified students and teachers. Not three days after that incident, she was taken into custody by squads of black-armoured individuals who would cuff her round the mouth if she so much as whimpered.
The next thirty years of her life could be accurately described as "Hell".
Seven or so years were spent in what could more or less be described as the worst jail in existence. The relative freedom of expression her planet supported was a myth in that grey bunker, as were any other rights the people supposedly had; instead, Nina was kept in a bland grey outfit, in a bland prison cell, utterly isolated from others like her, those who were kept in this place for the sole crime of possessing psychic powers. The guards, at least, had no interest in the prisoners save when they tried to use their powers, promptly being beaten into submission, or in too many cases shot dead and incinerated, but at the same time, they refused to account for the prisoners' needs beyond food and water, a state of affairs that was especially gruelling for a pubescent young girl for reasons that need not be elaborated on.
Socially, therefore, most people in there were not well-adjusted, if she even had any idea about their personalities at all. Nina had only a couple of friends throughout that time, the first a forty year old in a nearby cell who had developed in secret a form of telepathic communication. That friendship lasted all of three months before he was discovered and killed - arguably for the best, considering that every time she used her own abilities, the whispering in her mind grew stronger. She learned the cause of this a couple of years after that, when she grew daring enough to develop her own form of telepathic connection with the thirty two year old two cells over from hers. Their communication lasted a week before he admitted that he'd felt something probing at his mind lately, attempted to convey an image of what it was, and suddenly had his psyche ripped asunder by a monstrosity that Nina herself barely avoided being targeted by too. After seeing what it had twisted the man's body into as the guards carried away the evidence, she no longer attempted to train her abilities.
She was, of course, lucky. She could have spent much longer in there. Instead, the Black Ship arrived not too long after she turned twenty- or was it twenty one?- and took her and every surviving psyker in for transport to Holy Terra. This took ten years in total, and somehow, inexplicably, wound up being an even worse prison than the last - one made of black metal lit by red lamps, a hellish combination that played havoc with her vision; one where the silver-armoured guards standing at every juncture seemed to physically crush her whenever they passed by, even though she knew she was lucky enough to never be subjected to their wrath personally; and yet they and others didn't ignore her, but rather dragged her and others away time and again for the sake of unspeakable testing, probing, and punishing of both mind and body, processes that would have left any sane person traumatised, let alone the psychological wreck she became as the whispering and imagery grew ever more pronounced when the silver guards weren't present.
She was, of course, lucky. Luckier than most, anyway, for her wardmates never degraded into monsters, nor was her section of the ship ever forcibly cleansed with fire to erase a single threat. So, too, could her journey to Terra have taken far longer, and left her truly shattered rather than simply cracked, good only as fuel for the Emperor's dying soul. As it was, however, she remained on the cusp of sanity by tracking her time in there, precise mental markers that anchored her enough to let her keep some sense of self.
A worse fate lay in store for her. Not minutes after she first saw something resembling sunlight for the first time in nearly two decades, she and many others were marched back into an obsidian fortress by men clad in the same sort of black armour she'd first come to know as terrifying, and told that they were to be used for the Imperium's greater benefit, and that they would be trained to use their powers in the name of the God-Emperor, a process that would take a full five years before they were deemed ready. These five years were, thankfully, nothing like as awful as her time on the Black Ship, but to say they were easy was fallacious - her teachers were unreasonably cruel, even having been through the same nightmares she had, and every mistake she made in learning to apply her abilities was punished with beatings and restriction of "privileges" - up to, for the first time, both food and water if they were feeling cruel. All the while still being targeted by unspeakable whispering and imagery, somehow worse than before despite being in such a holy place. Again, she was forced to rely on her internal clock to keep her psyche intact, adding to it with strict and regimented creative activities of a sort - picturing a blank page in her mind, imagining herself writing upon it, and in time generating an entire fantasy trilogy that, when one teacher noticed it, was judged amateurish and naive. That teacher promptly copied the whole thing down word for word behind Nina's back, published it, and made a relative fortune on her efforts.
The exercises, however, did their job. Combined with the data from those tests performed upon the Black Ship, the examination of her talents in the Scholastica Psykana, and examination of her own coping mechanisms, she was unbeknownst to her graded at the level Zeta Secundus - decently strong, not quite capable of protecting her own soul from harm as a Primaris might, but nor a mere sheep to be sent to slaughter and soul syphoning with the massed Tertius psykers. At the end of those five years, she was taken into the core of the Imperial Palace, a golden twisting morass she could never hope to navigate alone protected by giants themselves clad in gold, to what looked like some sort of throne room, and forced to kneel in front of a corpse that she recognised as important for reasons that escaped her in the moment, alongside ninety nine other unfortunate souls like herself.
Not long after that, the God-Emperor touched her mind.
It is quite fortunate that the human brain contains no nerve endings directly, at least for the purposes of sensation. If it did, it would be likely that the electrical and chemical signals coursing through it would induce a constant headache at best, and an unbelievable agony at worst. For Nina, as with most of the astropaths-to-be, her Soul-Binding could not quite be described with realistic metaphors - the closest she could come would be to suggest that it felt very much like her brain had just been crammed full of said sensation-inducing nerve endings, and then shoved into an acid-filled blender with super-heated blades. To say it was pleasant, as some of them purported after the fact, was a strong statement. So too was calling it modest, or distressing. Even words like "excruciating" and "traumatic" were a little weak. If anybody ever bothered to ask, she would likely say it was the single worst experience she had ever had, before or since.
As it was, the teachers merely described it as "graduation". When she came to, she realised very quickly that, whilst the whispering in her mind and vague appendages in the corner of her eye were finally quelled, so too was literally everything else about her sight and vision - even though feeling remained, something made very evident when she was strapped down and the remnants of her melted eyeballs scraped out of their blackened sockets without anaesthesia. Nonetheless, she was practically crippled, and it took another month after that fateful event for her psychic-abilities to take over the role, translating the vibrations in the air into mental patterns she could recognise as sound, and the surfaces about her into images she could position herself relative to. Her telepathy even offered full colour awareness by the time the ship she was on found its way to her very first role as an agent of the Adeptus Astra Telepathica: a component in a major astropathic relay.
For most other astropaths, this would be where their story ended. Whilst a necessity for rapid information flow, the astropathic relays were constantly flooded with psychic messages from across the galaxy, and they were notorious for inducing the phenomenon called burnout: the crippling of an astropath's psychic powers, be it temporary or permanent, often accompanied by braindeath after however many years of replacing indecipherable whispers and visions with an indecipherable torrent of maddening ciphers in all forms. Only those of particularly strong will could hope to survive for any significant length of time.
Once more, Tecca Nina's tendency to develop psychological coping mechanisms saved her: this time, she simply found a way to turn off the part of her mind that was, for want of a better word, "human". Those in charge of the relay didn't want her to be human; they wanted her to be a wire. So, when she was in the immense choir that made it up, she was effectively no longer human, but a wire of thought and spirit, not taking in the messages passed to her, merely letting them move on through her being as fast as possible, and all the while maintaining that mental clock to draw herself back to when she was allowed a break, though by then she was assailed with reminders of her disturbing past so frequently that she often preferred not to revert at all. She burned out sixteen times in the first year before this mechanism took hold; once it had, she burned out once in the next six, and then only because she let that mindstate slip due to a bout of negative memory interfering with her focus.
This improvement did not go unnoticed. By now, she was in her early forties, and looked very much like she was in her late sixties, so major the toll of her life and powers had taken on her. It came as a great surprise, then, when she found herself recommended for work at a much less strenuous choir somewhere near the outer edge of the Imperium's holdings, and an even greater surprise when that work proposal came with a free rejuvenat treatment to ensure her ongoing service there. All at once, she reverted from looking and feeling like an elderly lady back to more or less her physical prime, complete with renewed hair growth. All this, however, would only serve to be the introduction for another trial entirely - granted, not one that would be at all comparable to the horrors she had faced thus far, but something difficult to overcome nonetheless.
At first, her approach into the deeper, less inhabited parts of the void left her wondering if her Soul-Bond was failing. Whispering she had thought banished for good returned steadily, growing louder the further from civilisation she went. It didn't take overly long, once she had taken up her position in the astropathic choir of that region, for her to recognise them for what they were: not the monsters of her past, but the dying screams and nascent dreams of aliens from far before her time, maddening to contemplate even compared to those other monsters of the Warp. They, after all, had at least some basis in human emotion. Nonetheless, her old coping mechanisms kicked in once again: shut down needless emotion, keep track of the passage of time, use the mind to craft creatively- this time, actually delving into and practicing her telepathic powers, to see what creative fashions she could use them in- all serving to keep her on track toward the eventual title of Astropath Transcendent... somehow, though, she found a sort of magnetic pull despite those mechanisms. Week after week, month after month, she kept being drawn back to contemplating, not the voices coming from the darkness, but the very darkness of the void itself, and this fascination manifested one day in the form of a deep chill filling her private quarters. After that, she found she didn't need to lose herself in her coping mechanisms anymore, though she continued to work on her telepathy where she could.
Again, this did not go unnoticed. Not long after this revelation, perhaps three years since joining the choir, she was requested by name by a man who referred to himself as Inquisitor Lycus Xande. He had need of a potent astropath to add to his choir - and, in addition to this, he offered her a position in his own retinue as an Acolyte, a role she dutifully accepted. It would be quieter still than the one she'd grown used to, and likely a lot more dangerous at times, but then it came with knowing she would be serving the people of the Imperium in their defense, not to mention granting her the relative freedom to expand her abilities: she suspects that she has yet to fully realise her maximum potential, and it would certainly be nice to see just how far she can go...

Skills:

• Astrotelepath - By far Nina's most notable skill is her aptitude in astrotelepathy. Though she sacrificed her vision, hearing, and much of her former self in the process of transformation- not all of which was due to exposure to the Emperor's soul, and none of which was pleasant to experience- what she has gained in return more than makes up for it. She experiences the world psychically now, as if she were in full retention of her former senses, and she can send messages across vast stretches of Imperial space in relatively short timeframes, a vital process for the Imperium's ongoing functionality, with even further distances made possible in the presence of an astropathic choir. Granted, sending even one relatively brief message is not nor ever will be a short process for any distance greater than orbital, especially with how much effort goes into encoding the most important and sensitive information packets to ensure prying Warp creatures and scions of heresy can't intercept it, but the capacity to do so at all is a rare and rightly-prized ability.
• Sanctioned Psyker - Beyond mere astropathy, Nina is a reasonably skilled psyker in other areas too, sanctioned as she is. All psykers can detect the soul-aura around an individual, so-called Witch-Sight, and may make use of it to elucidate certain pieces of information about them, though not much without explicit training. The majority of sanctioned psykers thus focus their efforts on learning to make use of a relatively selective pool of psychic abilities called a discipline, most practicing with one particular discipline above all others, and mastering two or maybe three distinct disciplines in their lifetime if they are exceptional; Nina may not even have had that much opportunity if she had never risen from the rank and file of the Astropathic Relay, for many astropaths in a choir never have the time to develop beyond their basic telepathic sending and astropathy.
  As it is, though, she is an adept when it comes to Telepathy, wielding both communication- and domination-style abilities for their respective roles of information relay and compelling others to act in certain ways, and has started to delve into the Voidfrost discipline that a number of astropaths find themselves dredging up when isolated from other human minds, with the capacity to shield herself from the void's icy grip in a bubble of air and warmth, plummet her own metabolism or that of a willing target into a form of life-preserving stasis, and even seek out and locate the minds of other sentient beings from many Void Units away, up to and including xeno races. There is evidence to suggest that she could progress much further still in these regions and perhaps others, if she gets the opportunity to continue mastering her abilities.
  Granted, none of this comes without cost. Though she is soulbound to the Emperor, warding her mind and rendering her far more resistant to the whispers at the edges of her sanity, effectively inaudible by this time, whisper they nonetheless do - and every so often, the ward will be strained by over-enthusiastic use of her abilities and the resulting eddies of the Immaterium, generating a disturbing effect in the local environment. Ever since she first accessed her Voidfrost potential, this has almost universally manifested as a sharp but brief temperature plummet, seeding hoarfrost across every surface in a wide area about her. She remains ever-vigilant for more explicit Warp manifestations, however - rare as they ought to be, they are by no means impossible, and if worst comes to worst, old brainwashing is likely to lead to an almost-instinctive suicide attempt even so many years after leaving the Scholastica Psykana behind - assuming another crew member doesn't attempt to kill her first, that is.
• Weaponplay - Naturally, it is rarely appropriate to wield psychic abilities recklessly, least of all those based on altering the mind directly. It is therefore a good thing that she has grown at least reasonably skilled in making use of both pistols and melee weaponry - far more direct is the damage of a pistol than an urge to run out of cover, and far less risky to make use of unless she runs out of ammo. Melee combat is rather more of a concern, in truth, but with proper protection and, occasionally, making use of her powers to support her in combat, she can usually get through a fight unscathed - assuming she's allowed into the fight at all, anyway.
• Trauma Response - Nina's past is one filled with the worst sorts of disturbances, most of which weren't even produced by her power directly. To say she has some serious PTSD is an understatement, and it is likely that this will affect her for her entire life; however, she has developed the means to at least withstand future horror as it comes, especially for long-term situations like prolonged torture and imprisonment. The major component of this at present is essentially to turn off her human emotion and relegate her response to logical and creative thought alone, rendering herself nearly unbreakable as far as further harm goes, but the first aspect of it, developing at some point in her teenage years, was to essentially keep an internal clock and calendar to track how much time has passed, and she has become very good at keeping track of time even under severe stress.

Equipment: Nina's basic gear is generic, but highly functional, focused on quality over quantity in a way assisted by her relatively privileged position:

• A hellpistol for ranged combat, good for 20 shots per hotshot charge pack, and with extra packs carried on her person when it runs dry;
• A mono-edged sword for melee combat, granted typically more of a last resort than intended for standard use;
• Thermoplas mesh armour, woven into her robes for protection;
• A blessed necklace charm in the shape of an Aquila, for purposes of faith and psychic focusing both;
• A void suit, generally stored on-ship in case she needs to head into the void unprotected by her powers;
• Various utility items: micro-bead for short-distance comms; chrono for timekeeping; flashlight and glowbulb for light in different circumstances; pict recorder for vid captures; dataslate for sending, storing, and receiving information.

Miscellaneous: There are a wide variety of directions Tecca Nina's powers could develop in the future, setting aside her ongoing advancement of the Telepathy and Voidfrost disciplines. Most are derived either from her soul-bond to the Emperor, namely the Warp-banishing Theosophamy and divinely-inspired Soul Ward, or from the usual mentally-charged disciplines of Divination and Telekinesis. Technically speaking, however, nothing explicitly prevents her from taking them in more offensive directions via Pyromancy, Biomancy, or perhaps even stranger options, though it is likely these would not be strictly optimal choices given her position.
It is also worth noting that the damage done to her flesh and nervous system by the Soul-Binding ritual is such that standard bionic replacements could not hope to restore either her vision or her hearing. However, such augments capable of it do exist - they are expensive beyond standard measure, and so heavily engineered as to be works of unparalleled artifice in most circumstances, but not unattainable for an Inquisitor so inclined to restore the senses of a valued Acolyte...

Statement for Tecca Nina

Tecca Nina is quite an imposing figure, and through her value to the Imperium and consequent rejuvenat treatment seems much younger than her true age of, by her estimation, 48 years. Tall and slender, she is pale-skinned and in possession of dark hair down to her shoulders, a combination of traits that many men would find highly attractive - were it not for her eye sockets, empty and permanently seared black by the scorching light of the God-Emperor's soul that once coursed through her. For politeness' sake, she tends to cover the hollows with a black blindfold bearing the symbol of the Adeptus Astra Telepathica on its front in pale blue, a neat and tidy covering for a gruesome disfigurement. Additionally, she wears long black robes that cover her body, themselves bearing both the symbol of her Adepta in pale blue on the front, the Imperial Aquila in white on her back, and the Aquila again in white on the hood.

Privately, these items of apparent cloth in fact double as protection from harm. Woven into them is a mesh of thermoplas cells that stiffen when subjected to kinetic energy and heat, dissipating that energy and keeping her safe from harm whilst remaining quite lightweight. Additionally, to those who might somehow think she is easy prey and are not deterred simply for being an astropath, she typicaslly carries on her person some form of pistol and mono-edge sword, evidence of her importance as the master of Lycus Xande's Astropathic Choir and indicators of her own lethality if provoked.

To say Tecca Nina is a severe woman is not exactly incorrect. The life experiences of a psyker once their powers awaken, and especially an astropath, are rarely positive in nature; hers have shaped her into a woman who will not tolerate being made light of by anybody, as in her mind she has gone through too much and come too far in spite of the odds stacked against her to allow such a thing. Consequently, those of higher rank than herself who disrespect her are generally treated with coolness, the bare minimum of civility required and no more, whilst those outright beneath her who do the same will receive naught but passive-aggressive insults, or indeed outright warnings if they go too far - never threats, though, because a threat is uncivil, and implies the possibility that you won't follow through when push comes to shove.

To everyone else, though, she does her best to be helpful, understanding, and occasionally even kind. The God-Emperor's mercy works in strange ways - those who are most harmed are often most belittled, a circumstance she is personally well-aware of, and whilst she does not look back on her past with fondness or indeed grace, it has informed her quite a bit. Thus, she tries to show empathy to those in need, even the rare alien that the Imperium has seen fit to welcome into its fold, albeit tinged with pity and stern recommendations for the many. It is but rarely that this folds to naught but empathy, almost always for her fellow sanctioned psykers such as the choir she now leads, and to them she truly does act graciously, for it is a crushing sort of kindred that they share.

Her relationship with the God-Emperor is... complex. Every psyker soul-bound to Him experiences the process in different ways if they do not die outright, from indescribable sensations to an enlightening discussion with Him. Some even expand their faith as a result, becoming the self-proclaimed Transubstantial Initiates that irk the Ecclesiarchy so. Nina falls into the somewhat broader category of astropaths who merely experience agony, though the sensation was certainly indescribable, and as a consequence she is of two minds. Was it necessary? Certainly; even her particular strategies would not have worked forever. Did it help her? Arguably; having a shard of the Emperor's soul tied to hers has certainly kept it safe from harm. Is she less enthused with Him as a result? Entirely - but then, she can hardly blame the God-Emperor directly. His agents are far more culpable as sinners, after all. To that end, when she does talk about her faith in Him, she tends to keep her statements modest, largely espousing kindness to others as she herself displays, if only to offset but slightly the cruelties both necessary and needless of the Imperium's more questionable servants.

That being said, to the heathen, the heretic, and especially the witch, she of course has nothing but contempt. Even now, coming to terms with a traumatic past has been a cripplingly hard task that often keeps her up until the late hours, but she at least accepts that the sanctioning process and the Soul-Binding that blinded her was a necessity to keep her safe from worse things. They who would avoid either or both, and ultimately they who would act against the God-Emperor Himself, are unworthy of His grace; at best to be directed to the Black Ships, at worst to be eliminated and forgotten, for that is the greatest kindness one can do them. Most xenos also fall into this category, but she is at least able to acknowledge that if her master were to take any on board, there would likely be a good reason for it. The Inquisition does not act lightly, after all.

---

A silent plain filled with twirling, be-ribboned dancers, jigging to an inaudible tune, with a king jigging hardest of all. The Governor of a nearby planet is inviting a friend in another subsector to a ball. It has been misdirected; it is sent on its way.

One minute twenty four seconds pass.

The tide grows. An ineffable green wave of screaming death approaches, and too few spears to repel it. Orks<likely feral> attacking a world, resupply needed. Relayed toward the relevant authorities in the Departmento Munitorum.

Thirty eight seconds pass.

A verdant missile lances into an oversized, cancerous heart. The heart burns away, to be replaced by one of steel and iron, already being aimed at. The Salamanders<Space Marines?> had a successful xeno-cleansing mission, but they're starting to come to blows with the Adeptus Mechanicus, who claim <terminology uncertain>lost technology may be present. Diplomatic support required. Relayed deeper into Imperial Space.

Five minutes seventeen seconds pass. A page is written in her mind on the subject of humanity facing a war against a new, powerful alien species.

No further astropathic messages.

As another astropath relieved her of duty for the time being, she breathed deeply, reconnecting to herself gradually as she traversed the halls of the facility back to her room. She began taking in a touch more detail as she passed through, making herself aware of the minute flaws in the individual plasteel panelling, scrapes and fractional dents, and the way footsteps echoed off of the walls and floor as if those flaws weren't present, and gradually the idea of emotion was remembered. Not that it mattered so much, under the circumstances, for after time spent in the Choir, there was rarely anyone who wished to do anything other than retreat into themselves for a while, just to be alone. And to make sure everything was still there.

Her space was relatively spartan. Furnished well enough, with a bed and a set of drawers for clothing and a shelf of reading material, and Adeptus Astra Telepathica symbology indicating that this was the room of an astro-telepath, but nothing especially personal. There hadn't been time in the Relay, or time before then in fact, to gather possessions unto oneself; even now, Nina had nothing particular in here that she might not replicate within her mind. Writing implements? Why put word to paper, when one had long since mastered the art of generating a novel in one's head? Though she might put in a request for them eventually; she'd started to come up with something she reckoned might be a hit across the Imperium, if she was allowed to publish it herself. Though she'd need people to read it before then to make sure it was properly formatted, and... well, there weren't many who she might ask at all, let alone people who'd be interested anyway.

And on the other hand, she didn't need anyone else to consider the newest trait of hers. In fact, it may be preferable for them to not know, depending on how they'd react. With a sigh, she began to draw just a portion of her psychic power out, projecting it gently across the facility. Where her perception had been limited to the scope of her room before, now every being within a wide berth became a clear marker to her - the astropaths in the Choir shined brightest, whilst the staff maintaining the place were dimmer, and the servitors projected but a spark of self even as they ran their protocols and menial tasks. To do this regularly was to teach herself better and better control, to keep her powers in check just so. The portion of the Emperor's soul within her was hardly going to just let her falter, naturally - but she'd rather not push the limits of His potency. He helped those who helped themselves, as it were... well, even then, she pondered, many never had the ability to. Such was the way of existence for far too many. Could he not spare just a little help for some of those in the Hives, maybe ensure they were-

Somebody was coming toward her room. She didn't know this soul, it glimmered differently. Immediately, she shut her power off, brushing down her robe and preparing to receive the inevitable rapping on her door... there it was. Striding smoothly to the doorway, she opened it up to receive her visitor.

'Hail, sir,' she uttered, taking in his details as she offered the Aquila, and received it in kind. Quite well put together, frankly. 'And what brings you to the quarters of a mere astropath?'

'I'd be correct to presume you are Astropath Tecca Nina, then?' His voice was not so much unemotional as uninflected, and the fact he knew her name already implied either the authority to find her by name, or intentional following her to learn it in advance.

'...I am, sir,' she nodded. Best to assume the former for now - as suspicion confirmed when the man pulled an unassuming brown wallet from his pocket, and opened it to reveal a sigil she'd been privy to many a time as a Relay, even if in this circumstance it implied follower rather than leader. She knew what it was...

'Excellent. You've been requested by Inquisitor Lycus Xande. He expects us to return within ten minutes; you should have time to gather anything you require.'

...but what it meant for her was a little unbelievable. An Inquisitor? Beneath her blindfold, Nina frowned. Was he for real? Did he expect her to... well. He certainly looked the part. And he had the rosette, after all...

But, she imagined she may not have a choice, even if she tried to refuse. Just like so many other events in her life. She could at least put on a brave face for this one.

'Of course, sir. I've nothing to gather, so shall we off?' she offered with a smile as genuine as she could provide, stepping out and closing the door behind her. 'I wouldn't want to keep an Inquisitor waiting, after all.' And she suspected she wouldn't see the inside of that room again, one way or another.

Persona ~ The Beholder

Interacting with Kirsty @Lugubrious, Liam @CriticalHit, and Tate @CondorTalon

Alina Sanford

She was kind of glad the other girl took the lead on communication. The less she had to talk, the better. She had a headache from trying to process all this shit, on top of everything that had been happening before now, and the less she had to actually communicate with this group, the better. Not to mention the guy who, against all odds, actually had been shaken awake, and started threatening everybody like some frat boy trying to get into a club. He was a dumbarse, and the more talkative woman of the group was clearly in agreement, or would be if she said anything about it.

Not that she got the chance to. Apparently, it wasn't a person hidden in the mist - but dogs. Hounds, rather - shadowy, black, pronounced teeth, and eyes that were at once monstrous and horrifyingly human. No dog had eyes like that. No thing did. But, here they were, with baleful glares, and one more as their apparent master, this merely a furless mess of mottled skin, but no less awful. And it was about now that the worst thing in the world occurred to Alina: this whole time, she had been entirely lucid. Sickened and a bit confused, certainly, but not out of control of her own reactions, not the way a hallucinogen would have produced. Which meant she wasn't on a trip.

Which meant... this might... be real.

'Oh shit.'

The combined howl from the lead beast, and Kirsty's scream of utter fear, rather set Alina into Kirsty's own mindset, and indeed mimicking her own frenzied flight in a panic of terror and frightened shrieks of her own. Emotion wasn't out of her grasp, it seemed, just deadened; a negative emotion this pure, this intense, would not be denied its hold. Unfortunate, then, that Alina was not a runner, or indeed a fast person in general; adrenaline and panic kept her body moving through a hellscape that seemed more unnerving by the second as her prior realisation took hold in her head, even as these hellish beasts corralled, harassed, gnashed at her heels and barely failed to rip her limbs off, until suddenly, they weren't - until suddenly, there was light to chase, something other than the twisted nightmare she'd been in, Alina taking the darker-skinned girl's route no more than half a second behind her.

And after that... the hounds were gone. Or at least unable to follow. And, granted, there was still a great fear that they'd come after her once more, but with that fading, Alina couldn't help but admit... this was a nice palace. Exorbitantly so. Except there wasn't a palace like this in England, let alone London - not that that stopped the other girl from staggering forward, awestruck and mumbling something about a dream.

A dream... no. Couldn't be. She had to remind herself once again that, despite her best efforts, she remained lucid, too much for it to be a bad trip. If this were a dream, even a lucid one, she'd be able to command the world to change, for a car or something to drive up. No such luck.

'I think this is real. Or, sort of real.'

Though, again, she had to be frank and point out to herself that an ostentatious location such as this didn't exist, never had existed in the United Kingdom. Their country wasn't one for temples, but cathedrals, and certainly not marble-paved streets lined with them. No matter how you sliced it, something was off here. Hell, maybe this was a dream. Maybe the entire day had been, and she'd never even talked to... uh. This girl. Or either of the two boys.

'By the way, it's generally polite to offer your name when somebody else offers theirs.'

Warhammer 40k: Sons of Titan - A Grey Knights RP

The enemies of the Grey Knights had posed little threat thus far. In tandem with Brother Basilious' purging flame, Sirius' blades and weapon had torn them asunder, sending their souls to weep at their dark masters' feet. All that remained in their wake was ash and ruin.

It came as little surprise when Brother Bieito announced the inevitable: their arrival was anticipated, and with it came daemons of Chaos. But why else would they, scions of the Emperor's divinity, be called but to fend off the maleficient spectres of the dark gods of the Warp? Basilious answered for him, and so he merely offered 'Received, Justicar' to the command to head toward the gate. Their movement, then, was swift: no quarter could be brooked, not for such a time-sensitive matter.

Which was why, when two more small bands of foes entered their line of sight and aimed their weapons, Sirius offered no bladesmanship to the one he set his sights upon. Unwilling to lose focus on the current goal for too long, he instead raised his hand, and launched a salvo of psy bolts even as he continued to move forward, the gesture as smooth as it was deadly. In seconds, the humans were no more than meat, the threat of their possession done.

No matter. Onward to the gate.