POOHEAD189

The Enemy Beyond: Warhammer 40,000 Inquisitor RP

"You will talk," I promised, my pistol out as I shoved the ganger into the alleyway. The putrid smell of refuse and trash wafted through a lone breeze, likely caused by a hive-ventilator close by. Ortega did not seem to notice, likely because he had delved into the underhive on more than one assault. The burly arbites casually strolling to the other side of the alley in case our newfound friend had any funny ideas about escaping.

"Talk!? About what?" The thin man asked desperately, a cold sweat on his pathetic features. He had the look of someone who, even given the best facilities and medicine, would not be sought out for his looks. His nose was large but weak and his chin almost nonexistent. His eyes were beady and his neck was so thin I felt I could snap it with one strong shake. He looked as if he had been beaten recently as well, his left cheek blue and a clear wild fear in his eyes. There was some rash creeping up his neck that was clearly untreated. But I did not begrudge him any of his misfortunes or maladies, in fact it made me feel a slight tinge of pity. Unfortunately for him, my pity was overwhelmed immediately by my worry for Emmaline.

Something stirred near the closest garbage pile, all six of our eyes whirred to the alley as a wild haired ne'er-do-well woke up from a drug-infused nap. He smacked his toothless gums and blinked, trying to focus on us.

"Get out of here!" Ortega barked. The man stiffened at the roar, but did not immediately move. I could use my will, but I needed to curb that temptation, so I did something slightly less conspicuous and put a bullet into the ground by the man's feet. The shot echoed through the alley and he jumped, scrambling over browned parchments and ruined food and what was likely feces and ran out into the main street. I turned my attention back to the ganger and placed the barrel of my gun in his face, slowly adding pressure against his skull.

"Where did they take the blonde woman?" I asked.

"Who are they!?" He screeched, legs shaking.

"Shouldn't we ask who he is working for?" Ortega interrupted. I gave him a glare, but he did not relent. "If we can find the girl, then good. But whatever this is, it's bigger than her or any of us. You did not come to this city to halt cases of kidnapping. She knew the risks."

"Why would they take her if we were not on their trail? If we find Emmaline we find the ring." I insisted.

"Speaking freely, anyone who could would take a woman like her if they saw past her disguise. Trafficking for pleasure girls is a large business. We need to focus. The Undercouncil is the issue here."

"This man..." I said, bearing down on the cowering prisoner. He would likely soil himself any minute, I imagined. "-watched us only when we began looking for Emmaline. He knows where she is. I still do not know if he is a member of this Undercouncil, but I will follow this lead."

"Or he simply knows who you are."

"Who is he?" The ganger asked quietly, but I ignored him. My iron eyes fixed on Ortega.

"Are you disagreeing with me because you wish to remind me of the bigger picture or are you disagreeing with me because you truly believe the issues are separate." I asked him.

Ortega paused for a moment, and then sighed. "The former," He admitted, and gestured to give me the go-ahead for whatever I was going to do. With that settled, I turned to our unwilling contact. I would use my will this time. "What is your name?"

He shuddered as if struck, and Ortega almost fell to his knees. He had a strong will of mind, but he was not used to such psychic assaults, even if they were on the periphery of my attention. Ortega backed away to grant me some room as the ganger began to bleat out answers. "Irban Retch!"

"Who is your master?"

"Lord Nurgle!"

Both of our eyes whipped to his own when we heard the blasphemous name, and I noticed he finally did soil himself. A wet puddle grew larger from a trickle dripping from his pants leg. Luckily the alley already smelled of piss. Small mercies, I suppose. I loomed over him, summoning my will once more.

"Where is the blonde woman?..."

The Enemy Beyond: Warhammer 40,000 Inquisitor RP

It all happened so quickly. So quickly in fact, that I did not immediately realize Emmaline was gone for what I estimated was nearly half a standard minute. I had gnabbed a few quick snippets of a conversation that I tangentially supposed was potential information on gang activity. Apparently a group called the Black Suns were large in this area, supposedly moving in on the turf of the Blooded Men, leading to eight dead the last day in a scuffle that served as the spark that would lead to the inevitable explosion of the tinderbox. I was not sure which group, if either, we were following, but as I turned to give my customary glance to Ortega and Emmaline, the latter was now gone.

I stiffened, lifting myself from my chair and immediately walking toward her last known position. My peripheral vision was undulating like the dancers, my focus on the floor just at the edge of the gyrating gangers and slummers. I pushed past a pair of drugged up men grinding against one another and found nothing on the floor, scratching out my suspicion she had collapsed. My eyes whipped around the area, not finding Emmaline but catching Ortega's eyes. He looked at me questioningly and I indicating there was trouble. He took another swig of the drink and set it down, making his way over to my position.

"What it is?" He asked.

"Emmaline is missing."

"Maybe she skipped town," He said, shrugging his broad shoulders. I shot him a dangerous look. I knew he did not entirely like her from the interrogation she had enacted upon him, but I knew Emmaline. She either found a lead, or was taken by a lead. Damn, either way I felt she should have signaled for me before whatever had occurred had happened. I sighed and turned, my eyes passing over another pair of eyes that were planted on mine. They moved away quickly, and anyone else would have suspected it was just a coincidence. But I stalked over to their position at the tables. A scrawny ganger with buggy eyes and an elaborate tattoo of an Imperial Titan on his arm glanced back at me, and then asserting that I was approaching, started to move himself. I cursed, trying to hurry and push past the crowd to reach him, but my injury kept me from moving as I normally would. I took out my gun, yelling him to halt over the blaring music as he made his way passed the bar to the exit.

He found Arbites Ortega suddenly appearing before him, punching him in the stomach and bowling him over. He spat on the floor, eyes wide from the hit. I made it to them with bated breath.

"Let's see what this scrawny rat knows." He said, taking him by the arm and neck and hauling him out into the street.

Rise to The Top: Medieval Intrigue RP

Galt shouldn't have been surprised when Silke all but insisted on him finding his friend and siblings, but somehow he was. It had been so long since he had even thought about his siblings, he truly did not know what to expect. Should he tell her he really had no intention of being in their lives? Not that he felt anything ill towards them, but it had been so long, he really could not find it in himself to really think of them as family much, anymore, even if he knew intellectually they were. It was an odd thing, actually. If he had come back home and discovered they had died rather than moved on, he would have missed them more, he thought. Why was that?

And then there was the wedding! He had never thought he was to get married before his wealth and status, and now that it was expected of him, he had thought the past few months that it would be to some rapacious noblewoman or a soft spoken damsel serving the whims of her father. But now that he was newly engaged to Silke, he for once thought how his own wedding would look in a positive light, and he found he did wish to see his entire family there, along with his friends. Even if they had grown apart, it didn't feel complete without inviting them. To look into Silke's eyes before gazing out over the crowd of his loved ones...

He took the hand she was using to gesticulate with, gently guiding it to his lips so he could kiss the back of it.

"I believe it will be a great wedding, and I think it's a good idea for us to find them. It's only right," He admitted, lowering her hand, though he did not entirely let go. The fire was warming his front side quite well, and he watched her with a smile. He truly was smitten. It was only the past few hours that he had finally admitted it to himself, but now that he had it was fascinating to feel such an emotion in him. He could watch her for hours and they would not be hours wasted. He supposed that would make his finance lessons easier, he inwardly joked.

"I expect snobs to be pretty commonplace, especially at a noble wedding. But I don't doubt you'll get it handled." He said, before realizing he also wanted to add: "And tell me if there's anything you would need me to do, as well. It's a day for the both of us, after all. Your feelings are just as valid as mine, ok?"

He wanted to let that sink in to her. Galt wasn't certain many men, particularly noble men had given her such admissions, but he would never falter in that. Partnerships, romantic or business, were important when one lived day to day not knowing where their next would come from. He found it was no less important in his current circumstances. The worries were now more social and emotional, but they were still there.

There's Always a Price: Sci Fi Bounty Hunters

The dragonfly's rear opened up, its sleek design belying the roomy cargo hold Dirk and Jocasta stepped out of. His laminated power armor coupled with Jocasta's stylish but utilitarian garb gave the pair an odd look, but they were also seemed have every resource or capability one might need from any five man team in their repertoire, and they were nothing less than mercenaries and hunters of men. The dockmaster caught the cue well enough himself, approaching them more cautiously now that he had a good look at the passengers he would be finagling.

"Welcome friends! Welcome to Tarsus!" He said, his spectacles laden with moisture that obscured his vision. He wore a practical jacket for the low temperatures at such an altitude and was following by a utility android on four wheels, a unit that looked much like a cogitator's tower, able to squeeze into small spaces but robust enough to weather any bumps it might get from its predicted years of service. A small bit of glass ran along the length of it around three quarters of the way up, an optic red light gliding back and forth. The dockmaster kicked it lightly so it reversed direction, backing up a few feet to grant him room to speak. "I was not aware we were receiving such well-armed guests. May I ask what the manner of your visit is?"

Dirk's head slowly swiveled to regard him, and he placed his hand on the heavy blaster directly in eyeshot to the dockmaster. He swallowed. "I'm afraid crime has been quite rampant here the last few years. New protocals are enacted. The Hoamarks' orders, you understand."

"We are here on a business transaction. If we were here to conduct illegal acts, we would not have our ship logged into the registry." Dirk said evenly.

"'Our' ship?" Jocasta asked with a raised eyebrow and folded arms, though Dirk doubted she was truly offended.

"Very good, yes. Erm, well if your business is not with any of the businesses in Echilon 3.64, I am afraid that will cost you extra..." He said, and Dirk casually unholstered his pistol.

"Really? How much would that be?"

The man pursed his lips as he thought of what a reasonable price would be. He took out an electronic pad where he no doubt kept the registry and thumbed through it. "TTTThhhree hundred credits? Two fifty I mean! Apologies, this stupid droid ahaha-" He slid through the screen rapidly. "-behind me has messed up my dock log again..."

"You mentioned crime right? Where is the most crime at? You know, so we can avoid it," Jocasta asked, blinking rapidly with a large smile on her face. Dirk had placed the gun back in its holster, content to pay what would normally be a third of the usual going rate for a civilian in such a place. He unlatched a small token and handed it to the dockmaster, who took it and let it scan on his pad before handing it back to Dirk.

"Erm, the Fallorn Sector, five flights below us. You won't have much to worry about. Luckily we keep the majority of it contained to there." He said, likely lying through his teeth. It fit with the diagonistics gathered by Cygi, however, so it was where to start.

Back to the roots of humanity [tribal-based, 21+, LFM]

Please stop putting 1x1 interest checks in Advanced.

The Enemy Beyond: Warhammer 40,000 Inquisitor RP

The squalid streets were as every other space in the under hive, speckled with obscene markings and brown, crusted spots spattered about at random. Refuse and trash were piled sometimes as high as a man while large, mutated rats and other creatures that had evolved to live down here rifled through them, sometimes scuttling over coats that held either sleeping or dead men. I was certain we, at least, wouldn't be spotted via smell as we slunk through the alleys following our quarry.

I moved stiffly, constantly placing a reassuring hand on my belly to make certain my bindings were tight and my armor was strapped tight around me. The pain was sometimes all-encompassing, though I would never admit it. Fortunately, my movements were more of my volition than necessity, merely to keep myself from bending over or getting to comfortable in a foul position to mitigate the wear and tear on my stitches and Selencia's hard work. Emmaline sometimes glanced my way, but never said anything. Every look made me stifle a sigh, my irritation of her unfounded, at least in this regard. Perhaps it was because I still felt somewhat inexperienced myself, despite my ascension from Interrogator almost six years ago. Old grievances died hard, and while I excelled in every area Kronus had groomed me in, being the youngest of the cadre for many years had instilled in me a distaste for anytime someone fretted over me during active service, even if it was completely understandable.

Our mark took its sweet time, the gangers harangueing one another and almost getting in a knife fight over a stimpack filled with narcotics, taking alternating routes I was certain were unnecessary. My inner compass was always keen, and Emmaline and Ortega also began to mutter on where the throne they were going to until finally they turned a corner into a wide multi-crossing street. We had just ourselves made it past the turn as the last ganger was skulking into a large, dented door of scrap metal. Outside a bouncer stood, a mutant considering he had four arms and a third eye open at the base of his neck.

We approached lazily, passing by a beggar who assailed us with pleas for creds before I snarled his way. The poor fellow crawled off on his belly and left the lane open for us to make it to the door.

"Never seens you scats before," The bouncer rumbled, its third eye blinking rapidly. "S'move on before toss a mad scene, ya skin?"

I wasn't too keen on the colloquialism, and it did not seem to be the norm for the entirety of the under hive, but it was similar to other dialects in the Imperium, particularly amongst mutants.

"Boss says s'feel moves here, just some blunts here to make slates for sally, read?" I responded in a grating, almost harsh whisper, and reached into my jacket to produce a few slates. "Give us a plate and we give the slate. Can't be runnin' off keys, ya fall, twist?"

The bouncer thought for a moment as he took the slates, his third eye halting its incessant blinking to examine the payment. There was a harsh, gutteral sound from his stomach and something roiled within there behind his stained top. If I had to guess (and hope) it was simply another, larger mouth. He gave a small "Read, read," before opening the door so we could enter. I held it open for Emmaline and once all three of us were in, our sense of smell was no longer assailed by excrement but obscura smoke and what passed for drinks in this sleazy underbar.

"Be on the lookout, and keep your profile low," I warned them, before descending down the dark steps into a room of dancing gangers, blaring music, and flickering lights that only enhanced the darkness of the shadows.

The Enemy Beyond: Warhammer 40,000 Inquisitor RP

The lower hive have various sections populated upon the surface of the hive city, generally on the outskirts of a base of the grater spire. The gaseous waste from the hive is usually released in said areas, but with proper equipment one could stand outside there and feel the wind against their skin and the heat or cold of the day, depending on what counts for seasons on the homeworld.

The under hive has no such luxury.

The structure of an under hive is made of several hab domes welded together with tunnels and shafts over a period of centuries, giving it a honeycomb-like structure within a vast cavern entirely underground. The interior of it is an immense, industrial-scaled cathedral of metal and decay, where machines the size of battleships have been abandoned in ages uncounted, though one would be hard pressed to find any difference between them and the makeshift structures made by desperate hands. Some rumor that some gangs worship those ancient machines that stand the test of time as ravenous gods, to which they sacrifice captives. A dome provides a wide open space, divided into zones of factories, houses, commercial buildings, and other structures. Between each dome, the maze of tunnels and shafts is the scene of bitter gangs wars and bloody raids. Varying tunnels with lifts are located around the greater area of the under hive, granting people with clearance access to and from the under hive, though there is little security on the bottom. Luckily most steer clear of the lifts, as the doors opening are just as likely to be a squad of arbites instead of unsuspecting prey.

I wore a large blue-black coat, wrinkled and torn with a winged collar framing my strong neck. My shoes were worn and my trousers were a drab brown, and plastered upon my face were prosthetics that gave the area around my left eyebrow a swollen look and a large jagged scar running across my face. I sported a wide brimmed hat to help cloak my features, regardless. Arbites Ortega had accepted my offer to accompany us, much to Emmaline's displeasure, but it took some convincing to the arbites to adopt similar costume and eschew his normal uniform, though he did wear his carapace armor under his jacket, as I did.

The lift shuddered and clanged concerningly, threatening to send us in an endless free fall down the clattering shaft at a moment's notice. The steel cables twining and singing as our lift ran through them. I merely breathed deep and held faith I hadn't survived eldritch xenos, chaos sorcerers, and a ruptured kidney to die in an elevator in the ass of a hive city. I clutched Emmaline to steady her, reinforcing my support for her idea.

Initially we had deliberated on making an assault, locating the most likely places were gangs met and with lighting tactics, cordoned off the area and make sure no one got in and out, leading to a lengthy process of interrogation. I was not in favor of this option, but Emmaline spoke up as an opposing voice and I supported it wholeheartedly. Incognito was a far better solution, even if it leads to a greater risk of ourselves. As the lift elevator grinded to a halt and opened up, spewing forth a rancid smell of sweat and decayed metal, I hoped we made the correct choice.

There's Always a Price: Sci Fi Bounty Hunters

"You'll find an opportunity to get scantily clad. You always do," Dirk remarked, a sardonic tone to his voice as he banked the dragonfly to the south. As they were still a team, Jocasta had given him a small run-down on the controls and navigation gear of the dragonfly and Dirk had picked up on it quickly. He had gotten his hands on numerous interplanetary ships in the past, the dragonfly was manueverable and its sub-light handling was a bit more sleek than most anything else he had flown, but it did not take long for him to put the familiar pieces together and get a feel for the controls he wasn't used to.

"I think you have her confused with me," her little AI said, popping up on the display in a bathing suit and a small hologram of a lounge chair behind her.

Dirk ignored it, sending the dragonfly in a nose dive, passing by rockcrete spires and antenna to wheel round into a lesser, dilapidated docking bay. Even from hundreds of meters away, one could see the various building materials the architects had to make do with to fit the pieces of the landing pads together. Small cybernetic service bots hobbled this way and that on the scrapped-together steel platforms as small freighters and planetary speeder vehicles zoomed back and forth through the air.

"So what's the plan?" Jocasta asked, making sure her weapon was locked and loaded. "Quick and messy or slow and sensual?"

"We'll need the lay of the land, first. If the information on the datasheets are correct, we're five floors above the habs this guy frequents, and if we want to make a quick getaway, we need to make sure we have a clear path back to the dragonfly. Let's find a service elevator."

"That doesn't seem very discreet..." She opined.

"The elevator would just get in the way. If we find one, we pry it open and I jet us up. No would could follow unless they had similar equipment, and I can handle that if it comes to it." He said, unstrapping his seat belt and getting ready to step out of the landing bay. From the window they could see the dockmaster waiting expectantly, no doubt there to squeeze them for every credit they were worth.

The Enemy Beyond: Warhammer 40,000 Inquisitor RP

Selencia and Lazarus would fret this was far too much excitement for me, I thought sardonically, trying to find the humor in a situation where there was very little of it. Emmaline was frustrated, but she conceded and it helped me to breathe easily at least. I sat back in my wheel chair and nodded at her explanation. As much as I did not trust the methods, I did trust Emmaline, and it stands to reason if she truly put the man's spirit back into his body for a short time, it would be impossible for him to lie. Of course I had never performed such acts, but I knew of them. One could not be in the Ordo Malleus without knowledge of ritual, both sanctioned and heretical.

Jogar Carden, I catalogued the name in my head for later.

"It seems a bit obvious that an organization with such a name as Under Council would be dually located in an Under Hive. But it could be worth granting it a once over. Any heretical sects located below the lower hives would be hard pressed to get reported to any real authority. The fact the manufacturing facilities is on this level was likely the only reason we even found evidence of their presence in the first place." I was merely thinking aloud at this point, but it seemed to ease Emmaline, perhaps because I still deigned to share my thought process with her. Emperor help me, I was glad I still could as well.

"What about your recovery?" She asked, remaining detached in speech, though her eyes spoke she was still worried on my physical health.

"I will take a day to rest, no matter what Selencia cautions of me. This will grant Lazarus time to locate any information on this Jogar Carden if he is able. I want you to help with that, if there is anything you are capable of aiding him with. Perhaps not, but I need your...personable mind if it goes beyond a data-slate. After that, all of us will go below if we have no other leads." I raised my hand to halt any protests. "I can requisition certain stems that will allow me full mobility, and I can fit my carapace armor and bandages to keep myself from any further damage."

She gently placed a hand on my arm, and after a second's hesitation, I placed my opposite hand on hers and squeezed it. This whole situation was complicated, but it seemed that we could persevere through it. Perhaps we were right to pursue this...relationship. If we could handle near death, wrongful tortue, and necromantic rituals, maybe we could handle whatever else the galaxy threw at us.

I just hoped the Ordo saw it in such a light.

"You'll need to do one more thing, though you won't like it." I said, and she bit her lip awaiting the remark. "You did the most prudent thing at the time, and it seems there is no permanent damage, but if you haven't already, you should apologize to Arbites Ortega. Not because I believe you were not in your rights, but the Arbites are a prideful group, much like my own. We might require his help again."

The Enemy Beyond: Warhammer 40,000 Inquisitor RP

My joy of being reunited with Emmaline could not be sundered by just physical pain. If I'm wounded, I know from experience that I'll end up getting hurt by her overeager nature, and despite myself I would not have it any other way. But to hear of this latest news caused a great anger to swell in me. I did not shout or balk after the first exclamation, but I closed my lips tightly and breathed through my nostrils as I attempted to keep a semblance of calm. Unfortunately, the two women could tell a mood shift had taken place.

"Hadrian..." Emmaline started, but I did not rise to answer her.

"Told you he wouldn't like it," Clara remarked to Emmaline.

"Clara?" I said.

"Yes sir?"

"Get out."

She started to open her mouth, but I looked at her. The guard captain moved so quickly, for a moment I thought I had inadvertently used my will. She was out of the office and closing the door behind us in the span of a second. It left the two of us in a silence that was more tension filled than awkward. I grabbed the small cane Lazarus had set upon my lap and tried to rise.

"Hadrian, don't. Let m-" Emmaline started, stepping forward to decide whether to help me up or to keep me in my seat. I'll never forget that moment. Not because it had any lasting effects, but it was the first time we had been at odds.

"Don't touch me." I ordered. She drew back, biting her full lip as the words fell into the air like a box of knives. She watched as I unsteadily got to my feet. It was only by my stubbornness and the mental discipline I had beaten into me by Kronus that I was able to stand at all. One hand on my cane and my legs frozen for a moment, I wondered for the briefest if this was how the old bookkeeper Pavern felt back on Pacitus. Frail and unsteady. I loathed it. But at the moment I was too consumed by another scenario.

"What book did you use to raise him?" I asked plainly, affording no distractions. "There had to be some work you used. What was it?"

"Libracate Obscurus," she said after a moment's hesitation, her voice almost a whisper. I could see guilt warring with a myriad of other emotions on her. Shame, worry, frustration, perhaps even anger. But guilt most of all. I decided I couldn't look, else I would forgive her then and there. I would forgive her regardless, really. But I could not forget. So I stepped my cane forward, making my way over to the desk of the office, facing the wall as if I looked out over a window when one was simply not present.

"My words before I was shot. I meant them. I still mean them." I breathed in deeply, wanting to choose my words carefully. Throne, the woman meant more to me than anything, but I could not hide my disapproval. It was too reckless, and it would be disrespectful of her skills to coddle her. "If what Lazarus told me were true, you showed initiative and leadership, and you should be proud of that." Shaking my head, I sighed. "But if you ever utilize such arcane practices again... I can't promise I can protect you."

"I don't need protection," she said, perhaps a bit tartly. She was twisting the meaning of my words into their most basic function, and she damn well knew it.

"When we decided to pursue our relationship, we promised we would do what we could to remain in the fold whilst doing so. If you had been shot, I don't know what I would have done. But it would be your job to tell me exactly what I am telling you now, if that had happened. If I had gone too far." I said, turning to her. I nearly fell, but stubbornly I kept myself upright, only a slight wobble of the cane showing the wave of vertigo threatening to totter me. "I cannot have any member of my team doing such things, no matter what happens. Kronus fought and survived traitor astartes in his time, and yet he was killed by a single bullet, almost as I was. We do not know what will happen tomorrow-" I started, but before I could finalize my point, my body finally gave way. I let go of the cane and hit the desk, elbow and arm pressed against it desperately as my legs threatened to collapse. This time Emmaline did help me, and this time I did not try and stop her. Her embrace and worry was warm, but I would not relent.

"Promise me you won't do it again, no matter the cost." I said, pushing myself back up with her help. She was stronger than she looked, but I was still half again her weight and it took the both of us to get started on escorting my broken form back to my chair. There were those that already whispered I was far too lenient as a monodominate, that I disgraced Inquisitor Kronus' legacy. That thought, along with my feelings for Emmaline twisted a knot of emotions in me that were almost too much to bear. "Please, Emma..."