Out of the frying pan... Chapter 1 - IC

Round 2:

The noise of Severines power armoured footfall at a run is painfully apparent for all to hear even above the hammering of the pnuematic hammer against the armoured glass. The deamonhost looks over its shoulder and flashes an amused smile. The hosts head and arms start to smoulder although the flames do not appear to burn the deamons pilfered crewmans jumpsuit or its flesh of its skin. After it notes each of you it pulls back the hammer and resumes its work... as you are now closer you can see the armoured glass is cracked, a spiders web of fractures that grow with each pounding...


Deamonhost wears a brown jumpsuit and doesn't have a large aquilla eagle around its neck

Philomena skids to a stop and brings her laspistol to bear. She takes a beat to aim at the daemonhost, then fires, but her shot goes wide.

His casting complete Lokar set off sprinting after his allies. Life energy tasted good, it made him feel powerful and filled him with confidence. Now he hungered for the thrill of combat.

Damiel charged forward as the bullets began to fly around him. His equipment, weapon, and armor all felt weightless through the adrenaline. As he neared the fire and devastation, he steeled himself for the heat, but did not falter.

Severine was glad that the Daemonhost wasn't smart enough to hide the fact that it had noticed them. She continued her rush forward, her Seraphim jump pack igniting in time with her steps and sending her skipping forward far more quickly across the deck than she could have moved otherwise. All pretense of stealth was dropped now, it knew they were there.

As she landed closer to the daemon, she quickly fired off one round with her bolt pistol toward her foe.
"Do not let it break that glass!"

Felyx wills the servitor forward again as Philomena overtakes him. Her bolt pistol roared and he hoped the blessing he put on his and the others weapons would be as successful. Never one to be heroic for heroisms sake, but not wanting to be sucked into the cold nothingness of the void, he takes careful aim with his shoulder-mounted hellpistol and fires. With the Daemonhost's focus on the war-nun, it looks to shoot true...

As the deamonhost slams the hammer against the glass once again Severines bolt round snaps its head to one side, a split second later Felyxs' hot shot blast burns a neat hole through its jumpsuit. The pneumatic hammer falls to the floor and it turns to face Severine, the side of its face hit by the bolt is intact although blackened by the rounds small explosion.

Round 3:

Severine who is closest can hear a whistling noise as air starts to escape through a tiny hole in the glass.

"To late, to late. Whore of the corpse emperor!" the host mocks Severine, the demons voice layered over its hosts as though two speak at once "Have you ever felt the cold of the void? The air sucked from your lungs? Exquisite!" A look of amused mavolence passes over its features, a flickering forked tougue tastes the air. Amusement turns to vicious anger as it commands Severine to obey, the force of its innate power behind its voice "KNEEL!"

Severine took a step forwards, raising her hand flamer in time with her bolter and preparing to fire both. Then the daemonhost turned to her and instead of pulling the trigger she stopped in place, shouting in impotent and wordless holy fury she was forced to kneel in place.
Her shout shifted to prayer, asking for the Emperor to help her shake the grip the daemon had on her body and mind as she struggled against the psychic energy forcing her to her knees.

Damiel runs into the blazing scene, weapon at the ready. He bellows out to the daemonhost, knowing the beast would only wish to be sent back to the warp. "Too little too late! Your guise of power is meaningless! You may choose to test your might, but your efforts are futile and insignificant. You will find your place beneath my boot!"

The sound of gunplay made Lokar grin, it wouldn't be long now until his axe was thrashing about wildly and biting into flesh. Sprinting as fast as he could towards his target he was careful not to stray into Philomena's line of fire.

As she moves forward, Philomena focuses, opening her mind to the threads of Fate reflected in the Warp, but the possibilities are overwhelming. She pushes, but the mix of fear and anxiety gripping her mind make it impossible. She exhales in frustration at her failure.

With the servitor crunching over a leg of one of the dead its tracks move onwards towards the deamonhost, Felyx lines up another shot which again hits true.

Round 4:

The deamonhosts face twitches & spasms between a delighted smile and furious hatred as it beholds the kneeling sister. "Now feel my warm embrace." it purrs and rages at Severine at the same time with its overlayed voice of the host and deamon. Purple warp fire explodes from the deamon, the furious fire licks at all it reaches, there is no escape.

Felyx's eyes widened just as the blast came forward. "We are to being fucked!" He has time to yell before he and Servitor are engulfed. The blast steals the air from his lungs. He can faintly hear the sound of Servitor's autogun opening up on full automatic before realizing that he is completely covered in flame. Putting the fact he was on fire to one side for a moment Felyx calmly lobs a web grenade…

… as the grenade tumbles through the air light arms fire peppers the deamonhost…

Philomena takes a step back turning her head away from the unholy flames. The heat stings her eyes and she blinks to clear the tears flooding them protectively. She spots the daemonhost's shape, contorted by the heat permeating the air. She aims her laspistol at him and fires, but the aetheric energy from the warpflame blast was distorting her vision far more than she'd thought. The las hits the wall behind her foe.

Severine continued chanting her prayers to the emperor as her armour was blackened by warpflame and her skin began to bubble and peel away beneath it. She screamed her prayers, voice full of agony all while she forced herself back to her feet from kneeling, her pistol and flamer aimed keenly towards the daemonhost. Any intention of capturing it alive was quickly leaving her mind as her desire to simply be rid of the thing grew stronger. She unloaded with her bolt pistol, shooting a single shot towards the creature!

Engulfed in flames Lokar let out a feral roar full of pain and anger Raaaargh! Ignoring his flaming armour he continued his run forwards, trailing smoke behind him.

The deamonhost stands under fire with a look of contempt on its face. A bolt blows a chunk of flesh from its torso splaying blood and guts but it ignores it, bullets and las fire zip about. It watches the grenade bounce a short distance away and looked to about to ignore that also until a look of alarm crosses its face as its engulfed in sticky monofilament wire. It topples to the floor thrashing and screeching.

The Daemonhost's blast washed over Damiel, unravelling into nothing over his soulless aura. He only watched the fire engulf his allies, which only filled him with hatred for this creature. He rushed to close the distance. He stood over the deamonhost who even now has already managed to break some of its bonds, the sticky web would not hold it for long. Damiel brings his sword heavily down onto the squirming form.

Round 5:

The cracks on the four inch thick armoured glass suddenly expand almost filling the pane, a fist sized chunk then another is sucked into the void. The viewing window finally fails as the fractured glass explodes outwards into the void. A brief high pitched whistle then a gale like noise fills the chamber as the air begins to be rapidly sucked out of the observation deck.

Glaxons glare helpfully signally a hull breach.

The escaping air tugs at Philomena like some great beast dragging its prey to its lair. She plants her feet, trying to keep from being pulled towards the void, but the gale is too strong. She falls forward, drawn inexorably towards her doom. The low, thrumming fear that had been plaguing her mind since the daemonic vision had swept through the deck now reaches full-blown panic. She flails, trying to find some purchase. She grabs for a bench, but she's still holding her laspistol. It clunks unhelpfully against the steel seat and does nothing to slow or stop her momentum.

With the hull breach sucking him forwards Lokar reaches out with his free hand and finds something to hold onto. ''Things are looking up'' he thinks, ''Perhaps the void will put out these damn flames..''

Severine ignited her Seraphim pack, propelling herself back into the room where she grabbed onto the nearest sturdy looking bulkhead or panel.

Damiel's eyes widened, and the void filled his vision. Staring at fate in the darkness, Damiel grabbed the bench below him, waiting for the blast doors to lock out his doom.

The servitor slides slightly across the floor but its bulk for now keeps it safe, Felyx on the other hand is sucked violently off its back his flailing arms trying and failing to keep purchase.

Barely a seconded passes when the void shutters slam down across the whole observation deck. The gale suddenly stops, Philomena and Felyx are dumped back onto the deck after their short flight. Silence reins briefly inbetween glares of the glaxons before the thrashing and screeching resumes from the deamonhost as it tries to break its bonds.

The fires that raged have guttered out and all that remains is smoking and smouldering remnants.


+++ Donna +++

Hungover and late to the party Donna takes three stairs at a time as she powers up stairwell to the observation deck. As she reaches the top glaxons glare out that there is a hull breach. A glow light above the door switches from green to red indicating that the door is now locked. A gaggle of armsmen reach the top on the stairs out of breath at trying to keep pace. "We should be able to manually override the door once the breach is secured." he says between pants.

For now the glaxons continue to blare.

++++++++++++


Philomena hits the ground with a dull thud, her fall cushioned by her flak armor. She scrambles to her feet and away from the Deamonhost. A teaching from her old life comes unbidden into her mind: A Lady should always move with grace, as if gravity was just something she indulged. As Philomena clumsily clambers away from the possessed man, she laughs without mirth.

Felyx felt the flames dissipate, but was filled with a moment of dread instead of relief as he realized why they had gone out. His body was sucked along the steel floor and he scrambled to grab onto something. As he slowed, he realized he was mere feet away from the thrashing daemon. Wasting no time, almost as a reflex, his shoulder mounted hotshot las turned and started firing at the thing.

As he crawled onto Servitor, the automaton similarly started firing in slow methodical patterns, adding to the damage. It started backing away from the warp fiend simultaneously, enveloping it in a flanking pattern so that no single flame attack could hit so many of them at once.

Seeing his foe fall to the floor vulnerable Lokar felt a surge of excitement. ''Now is the time to strike'' he thought and dropped his protective spell to better focus on casting his attack. Dipping into the warp and taking its power the young feral sent a lightning bolt hurtling towards the demon host and hitting its flailing body.

The blast doors closing gave Damiel a split second to strike. He leapt off the bench, swinging the huge blade overhead at the restrained daemonhost.

Severine released the bulkhead, using more powered bursts from her Seraphim pack as she bounded along the rear wall and took aim with her bolt pistol once more. The Daemonhost was in a bad spot, and she thanked the Emperor for the opportunity presented by a stationary, webbed target.
With a shouted prayer, her pistol fired off two rounds into the Daemonhost, weaving through her allies engaged in melee with it and punching into its tainted flesh.

Bio-lightning, bolts, solid arms fire and blades assault the entangled deamonhost. Its screeching and struggling suddenly stop, the trapped body relaxes and is still. The oppresive presence of the deamonhost clears.

++++++++

Donna follows the armsmen. Wherever they were going sounded like there would be some excitement.
Her weapons were primed and ready. They handles were like long lost, velvety lovers in her hand. She would rip the life from someone soon and they would help her.
Breach? There's that word again. she things clumsily as she follows the bilge rats to the next scene of violence and carnage.

Follow these guys to battle!

The red light above the door turns green and automatically opens revealing the signs of battle. Burnt dead bodies litter the overservation deck and all is quiet. Donna has missed the action.

Felyx looks at the body, back to Servitor, then to the incoming armsmen and... Donna??

He smiles a bit at Donna before throwing up all over the floor. Rolling onto his back, he begins a slow crawl toward Servitor to survey the damage. It was hurt, but it would live. Him on the other hand...

"I am to needing of the helps. Body ouchies am having. Many. Thanking to you." He speaks to everyone and no one in particular.

Oh Omnissiah's Golden Nutsack, am I the medic? He thinks in binary before moaning quietly on the floor.

To Philomena, the disappearance of the daemon's presence feels like a sudden shift in gravity. She stumbles like a drunk for a few steps, before her body catches up. She plops herself down on one of the metal benches, and exhales raggedly in relief. "Thank the Emperor," she mumbles.

The psyker holsters her laspistol. Her hand his firmly clenched around the grip and she has to will herself to relax it and let the gun go. She scoffs at her silliness. It's not like it had helped her much. She had missed every single shot. The threads of Fate had escaped her grasp. She had failed to keep her footing when the window broke. She'd been completely useless.

Philomena's moping is interrupted by Felyx's pained groans. She had no knowledge of first aid or biomancy. One more thing she couldn't help with.

She spots movement on her right. Her hand reaches for her pistol instinctively, but it's just Donna, accompanied by a gaggle of armsmen. Her eyes narrow and her lips curl up. Maybe she could help, after all.

Philomena stands up and raps the butt of her staff on the ground to get the soldiers attention. "You there, armsman," she says imperiously. "Summon a Medicae team at once!"

Those that are close see that the body of the host has taken many terrible wounds from the fight, enough to kill a normal person many times over. A pool of blood expands outwards...

The armsman addressed by Philomena, nods smartly in reply; she was a familar sight on the vessel and due to her closeness to the inquisitor one with authority. There is a burst of static from his comms, he then appears to be conversing with Captain Bartholomew. The breach was secured and the security breach pacified he reported, request for medical assistance was acknowledged.

"Ma'am, medical team are on way" he reports back to Philomena.

"Our god emperor protects us, and in his light we flourish-" This continued on, with Severine chanting quietly to herself more than anyone else.
She was injured as most of them were, but her armor made it a bit easier to keep moving while some of the others struggled. The first thing she checked in a glance around the room was that all her allies still drew breath.

She walked through the space, adrenaline and discipline keeping her from collapsing due to the pain.

"Everyone alive? Thank the Emperor. Can we speak with our Inquisitor? I believe we should burn the body, lest his corruption spread to the ship. Crewmen! Stay away from the body, please."
She made sure to shoo anyone who approached the corpse away, and shielded the crew from sight of it as best she could with her armored bulk.

"Waiting before burn!" Croaks Felyx.

The others wouldn't understand, but he had a ritual that needed completion. He crawled to the body. There was a burst of binary and Servitor came and scooped him up. He gently made his way onto its track section and it, seemingly of its own accord, moved to the body.

He made sure that Servitor's bulk blocked most of what he intended from view.

Regardless of whether or not the others watched, commented, or jerked off, Felyx very gently went about his ritual. He turned the head to the side and pulled his immaculate scalpel. Gingerly, he removed the brain stem and carefully placed it into one of the many empty vials stored in his medikit. He took a moment to wipe the scalpel on the Daemonhost's clothing until he was satisfied, put everything back in perfect order...

...and then threw up again. This time right near the body. He laughed, which caused him immense pain, then rolled onto his back as Servitor moved away.

"Okays Dokays. Now you can be to burning body. I might be nappings now."

He couldn't wait to study this one, assuming he did not die. Might even ask Severine for a small blessing beforehand too.

Goals::

Seeing the host stop struggling Lokar relaxed, and let out a small sigh of relief. Shame he said with mirth in his voice I was just getting started Ignoring his pain for appearance's sake he readied his manacles and walked towards the now still demon host to see if there was any life left in it. Oblivious to any objections he fully extending his axe and used it to prod at the thing to see if it moved.

"I'm not going to burn it until we get permission - she might want the body intact. That is why I asked whether we could contact her."

Severine did see if she could reach the Inquisitor on her communicator, if she even had the information to contact their leader.

Lokar watched Felyx in his work with great interest, he had seen the inside of a skull before but they had all been opened with a spiked mace or some such

Definitely dead then he said while stowing his manacles. No one can say that I didn't do my best to capture it.

Looking at Felyx's macabre trophy he asks What in the nine and a half hells are you going to do with that? His voice inquisitive and free from judgment..

Philomena busies herself managing the scene, more than happy to leave the others to take care of the... body. Every bit of order she imposes on the mess that is the Observation Deck is a balm on the insecurity she feels following the acolytes' confrontation with the daemonhost.

"Set up a perimeter around the entrances," she tells the armsmen. "No one should be allowed access to the Observation Deck without express permission from a member of the Inquisition."

Once the scene is secure, Philomena rejoins her colleagues, her composure restored. She looks at the daemonhost's corpse with restrained disgust. "We should move this thing back to the inquisitor's lab. Perhaps we can requisition some disposable servitors from the ship to transport it." She turns to look at Severine. "Sister, what measures should we take to purify this area?"

Felyx simply rolled his head to one side, and with the deadest eyes, smiled from ear to ear at Lokar. It was truly horrifying.

It was a very human gesture, and he had practiced in the mirror for many a minute perfecting it.

Nailed it, he thought.

"At risks of beings the stereotype-ical Mechanicus: i will to be ripping the knowledges from it."

He rubbed briefly at the singed hair on the side of his head. Pain immediately shot through him. It was good. He could feel. The Daemon could not. He hoped it was getting spit-roasted in whatever corner of the Warp it called home.

"...Also makings for pretty collection. The Basal Ganglia is having much beauty."

Felyx moans again and it is unclear whether it is from pain or something else.

"That was being the last of Web-Grenades!" He frowns. It was equally as horrifying as his smile.

Seeing the smile of an insane devil Lokar recoiled slightly as he tried and failed to hide his discomfort.

I've taken trophies before but never from 'inside' a quarry. Well, I did take a heart once, but I ate it.. He smiles a normal smile, proud of this accomplishment.

To have the knowledge of a demon like this would take a powerful ritual amongst my people. I would be surprised if you could do it alone. In fact I would be willing to bet you can't, say one hundred thrones? Lokar didn't doubt Felyx could do it so much as he wanted to see it done.

"Flame and holy incense are the surest ways to cleanse this place - In my order I would be punished with lashings for acting without the permission of the Cannonness on matters this important. But at your command, my lady, I can burn the blood and cleanse the room. I think transporting this creature is.... Risky. The crew would talk."

Severine stood at parade rest near the body still, blocking it from easy outside view as she waited for any sort of response from their Inquisitor on her communicator. She seemed entirely unphased by whatever the tech priest was doing. Though she did find him to be... Odd. Only odder the more she saw.

"Bloody 'Ell! Oui missed tha shit." she yells in surprise.

"What the 'ell issat?" she said pointing the chainaxe at the body on the groun.
"'at the thing we s'posed to be huntin"?"

AbstractCloud1 wrote:

Severine stood at parade rest near the body still, blocking it from easy outside view as she waited for any sort of response from their Inquisitor on her communicator.

The communicator finally burst into life, it was captain Bartholomew "Apologies sister in the delay, the Inquisitor as I understand is indisposed. Des-Ray94 should be with you in a few minutes."

"Not quite what I was hoping for, but we will make it work. Thank you, Captain."

Severine now looked to Lady Philomena. "I would defer to your judgement, my lady, on what should be done with the body once the chiriurgeon arrives."

Answered with silence Lokar Looks at Felyx directly. No bet?, ha!, I knew you couldn't do it. He said displaying his best smug face.

Felyx coughs and rolls just enough to stare at Lokar with his trademark dead eyes.

"Apologizing. I was forgetting more about intricacies of universe than you are to ever have knowing. What is being name for you again?"

With that he lets out a sigh that lasts for a full fifteen seconds.

"Damiel? Damiel? DAMIEL? What is being his names?"

Felyx figured "Shit Hair Man" needed to be saved for special occasions, but also had zero interest in this one watching him work. Felyx was highly suspicious of anyone overly friendly. Who would want to be his friend after all?

Lokar was taken aback by Felyxs rudness. My name is Lokar Bloodaxe, you were told just this morning. You have trouble backing up your claims and are forgetful of everyday things. Perhaps you are becoming senile a little early in life? I hope not, it would weaken the team. He said dropping his smug face and adopting a mask of pity.

The armsman guard the two entrances to the observation deck, each group about one hundred metres away at the far ends of the large chamber. Well out of ear shot and any detailed view of whats going on.

Felyx laughs and some blood flecks his lips. He nods. Getting under Lokar's skin was very easy.

"'Team.'" He repeats the words and his eyes glass over for a moment, remembering the 17 thousand year old golden age of Humanity ship they had set foot on. The Euphrates. The heretek cult and the corrupted STC. He remembered how they had fought and bled, how only at the eleventh hour they had destroyed it, after it had flooded his memory banks with its feelings of rage and hatred, having been corrupted by the Warp.

He remembered Tangaroa, the hive city that had been lost because they could not save it.

He remembered the team.

"I am remembering my Team. But only meeting you this morning. Talking to me again, when you are losing your diapers."

At that, he laid back and looked at Donna.

"Oh, hellos!"

"'Ello luv." she says as she rests the chainaxe on her shoulder.


"Seems I missed th' part'ay, Sorry 'bou that but after all n' happen' las few years oui jus needed a good swig o' grox piss. Oui still think Oui need more. Yew awl ok?' No bleeds or bumps?"
She smiled at her own insult, but it was a mirthless smile.

Felyx, laying on his back on Servitor II, body covered in burns and bleeding from the mouth simply gives her a look like, are you fucking serious right now, bro? Do I look OK?

But he just gave a thumbs up. He'd had worse, and he did have a flair for the dramatic.

Damiel breathed heavily, shaking the adrenaline of combat and staring at the body, window, and aftermath of the fight. The dull murmur of conversation drowned for a moment as he calmed himself. He wiped sweat off his pallid forehead and shook it off at Donna. "Yeah, while you were snogging a bottle we were getting sucked out a window by a Daemon. It almost torched Felyx." He sighed and caught his breath. "Glad you're back, the new guy thinks he's wittier than Felyx. I haven't decided."

He holds a hand out to Felyx, "You're looking like you lost. Can you stand? I think I heard Medicae will be here soon." He was concerned for the closest person he had, even if neither of them could consider anyone a friend.

Clearly learning anything about this new world from Felyx was a fool's errand, and trying to make sense of his incoherent ramblings wasn't that much better. Lokar shrugged and turned his attention elsewhere.

Where I come from we have a feast after a victory like this. He said to the room at large.

Felyx accepted Damiel's hand and stood, shakily. His everything hurt, but he appreciated the gesture.

Damiel, like him, did not make friends easily. Damiel at least knew it. Felyx thought he functioned very well as a normal human. But deep down he knew that they would always be outcasts, and he leaned into it.

He patted Damiel's head softly.

"I was losing lunch. Two times. Theres and.... uh... heres. Am being glad you did not dying, Damiel. Donna is living too, eh? Yay." He was glad the remnants of the old team were still alive, but he would never stop giving Donna - the cybernetic super warrior he had been investing so much time and energy in - shit for not being here when the fight needed her the most.

It was becoming a theme.

Finished pointing at his vomit, he addressed Lokar again, any awkwardness from the previous back-and-forth completely forgotten.

"Mmmmm I could be eating."

Philomena nods at Severine. "Then we'll keep the body in a warded cell until we hear otherwise from the Inquisitor."

With nothing more to do until the medicae arrives, she watches the others banter, or perhaps verbally spar. Was it a sign of budding camaraderie or was it posturing? Either way, she was glad it was not directed at her. She had expected recriminations about her performance. Maybe the others had expected her to be useless.

Lokar's comment about a feast made her realize how hungry she was. They had spent hours questioning the residents of this deck, before engaging in some rather strenuous activity. "There is still much to do before we can afford to take a break. We must secure the host's remains in the laboratory," she looks around at the others. Damiel had escaped the blast thanks to his mutation, but Felyx, Lokar and Severine were in a sorry state. "And see to your injuries. If you eat what passes as food on this ship without dressing them first, you'd be at severe risk of infection from every wayward morsel."

"A feast would be glorious! As would a drink and a break from this armor. But our duty comes first, we cannot simply leave our fallen foe without proper attention, after all."

She regarded the arrival of Donna with little but the expressionless gaze of her helmets visor. The large flames on her back still flickered, filling the space with the faint scent of smoke and weak incense the longer she lingered.

"Issn't the dewty done? "E's dead after awl."

Somehow Donna got the impression some of the other members were displeased with her. She wasn't sure if she agreed or not. That was a question for a more sober Donna.

Des-Ray arrives on the observation deck with two assistants in toe, a medical servo skull zips ahead and buzzes over the heads of the injured, it lingers a little longer over Felyx and Severine. By the time the medicae adept has walked across the hall the skull returns to her shoulder, its single red glowing eye flickering rapidly for a moment as it transferred its data.

Des-Ray then dispatches the two assistants to provide pain relief to Felyx and Serverine while she asks a few short questions as to the cause of the injuries to allow proper treatment. With that done the medical team get to work treating the wounded as best they can on the deck. While she works she updates you as to the Inquisitors health and answers any questions you have "Inquisitor Maud will be kept in an induced coma for a few days, she is critical but has a good chance of survival. When I bring her round we'll see if she's capable of answering your questions, she may need more time though. It could be a week or so before she's up for visitors.” She then adds slightly sternly "Felyx, Severine you should both spend a few days in medicae, you need rest and a sterile environment to ensure there is no infection."


Before the shit had hit the fan your ship the Honest Trader had just arrived in orbit above the planet Kul, where Maud had told you ‘trouble was brewing’. You have no orders and perhaps a week before you’d get any…

Philomena shakes her head. "Only in death does our duty end, Donna. For this specific task, however, once the remains are secure in the lab, we will done." She turns her head as Des-Ray, her assistants, and some servitors arrive. She instructs the cyber-drones to pick up the daemonhost's corpse and carry it back to the lab. "Donna, Damiel, could you please escort the servitors to the Inquisitor's laboratory? It may be an unnecessary precaution, but one cannot be too careful."

Philomena approaches the medicae and listens intently at her report on the Inquisitor's condition. "Please notify me as soon as the Inquisitor is awake. She will want to be briefed immediately. Even if she can't speak, I will be able to relay her instructions."

Felyx felt comfort as the cold, mechanical tech priestess and her cyberskulls invaded his personal space. He was nothing like standard tech priests, as the rest of the group had surely gathered by now. He lacked the standard robes, the total replacement of most body parts, the strict adherence to... doing things properly.

But something about Des-Ray rustled his jimmies. It wasn't lust or love. Well, maybe a bit of lust, but there was a comfort he felt when she was around. He hadn't time to think on it in their brief meetings prior, but here, as he was dying, he felt comfort.

He felt comfort.

There was a screeching blurt that sounded like a Skrillex concert in a shitty garage. Felyx was speaking in machine-cant:

Gracious thanks to you, designate: Des-Ray94. I will undergo full medical rehabilitation for my organic tissues damaged in my glorious service to the Omnissiah here. Humble request: please see my loyal companion Servitor v.2 undergoes proper maintenance rites while I biologically heal.

He then looked to Severine. "Times together, you and I, will be to spending. Friends to quickly becomes, yes? Worries not. I will be telling to you the stories and song of my peoples."

Severine stepped aside when the Servitors arrived to pick up the body.
"If you can find something to drape the body with that would help avoid panic amongst the crew. An idea, for whoever escorts these Servitor units."

Only then did she finally lean against a wall as her wounds were starting to catch up to her, power armor aided muscles or no. She chuckled quietly as she extinguished the flames on her back and nodded to Felyx.
"I'll use the time to fix your broken low gothic. The language is coarse at the best of times, but you've found a way to truly distort it. Almost impressive."

Iron and Metal wrote:

But something about Des-Ray rustled his jimmies. It wasn't lust or love. Well, maybe a bit of lust, but there was a comfort he felt when she was around. He hadn't time to think on it in their brief meetings prior, but here, as he was dying, he felt comfort.

He felt comfort.

There was a screeching blurt that sounded like a Skrillex concert in a shitty garage. Felyx was speaking in machine-cant:

Gracious thanks to you, designate: Des-Ray94. I will undergo full medical rehabilitation for my organic tissues damaged in my glorious service to the Omnissiah here. Humble request: please see my loyal companion Servitor v.2 undergoes proper maintenance rites while I biologically heal.

"I shall ensure Engineseer Luthor assigns someone to attend your servitor" she replies in gothic. Des-Ray certainly understands machine-cant but perhaps lacks the cybernetics to reply in kind, she is an adept and not a tech priest afterall.

Her cold hand firmly grasps Felyx's arm, while with the other she injects something into his flesh. The needle penetrates easily, the plunger is thrust smoothly downwards. "There you'll keep until we get you to the medical bay."

moarhair wrote:

Philomena shakes her head. "Only in death does our duty end, Donna. For this specific task, however, once the remains are secure in the lab, we will done." She turns her head as Des-Ray, her assistants, and some servitors arrive. She instructs the cyber-drones to pick up the daemonhost's corpse and carry it back to the lab. "Donna, Damiel, could you please escort the servitors to the Inquisitor's laboratory? It may be an unnecessary precaution, but one cannot be too careful."

Philomena approaches the medicae and listens intently at her report on the Inquisitor's condition. "Please notify me as soon as the Inquisitor is awake. She will want to be briefed immediately. Even if she can't speak, I will be able to relay her instructions."

She looks back and fourth from the body to the servitors.

After a minute of mulling it over she shrugs.
"Yeaaa Oui guess oui can dew thawt." she says before heading out with the servitors.

Lokar watched the others leave... Then he went for a walk..

Having explored the limits of his mental prison he had discovered that he must without question obey his new master, or become wracked with the worst earth-shattering migraines that made him feel sick from stomach to balls. He had also discovered that he could well mock the servants of the emperor but he may never take the emperor's name in vain, else be inflicted with the same unbearable pain and sicknes, all thanks to his imperial conditioning.

Given the current lack of security and the absence of his new master, Lokar felt it best to take advantage of this rare opportunity and now test the limits of his physical prison. His education was very basic but he knew that he was on a starship that traveled through the void. He decided to see how far being 'associated' with the inquisition would get him.

looking around for the meekest crew member he roughly grabbed them and growled. You!, in the name of the Inquisition!, tell me how to get to the shuttle bay.

Neriglissar wrote:

Looking around for the meekest crew member he roughly grabbed them and growled. You!, in the name of the Inquisition!, tell me how to get to the shuttle bay.

The accosted man tries to shrink away from Lokar, but is held firmly by the shoulder. "Please don't hurt... oh" he collects himself a little when he realises he's not being assaulted although he still looks scared. He points "head that way, through the mess decks and then down two levels"

Lokar heads off, the ship was like a maze but after some more persuasion he eventually stood in a docking bay. A lone landing craft sat to one side with a few crew attending it perhaps making repairs or general maintenance, Lokar did not know.

The huge docking bay doors were closed.

Lokar watched the men work a while waiting to see someone giving orders, perhaps decorated somehow or with a fancy headdress of some kind. After a short time he spotted someone who fit the bill and boldly strode up to them.

Standing there looking and smelling like the barbarian he was, he glared at them square in the eyes and said. You there! I am Lokar of the Inqusition and I have a top-secret mission on the planet. You will provide me a shuttle and pilot and you will do so 'quietly' or face the wrath of Inquisitor Grimm! .. Now!

AbstractCloud1 wrote:

Severine stepped aside when the Servitors arrived to pick up the body.
"If you can find something to drape the body with that would help avoid panic amongst the crew. An idea, for whoever escorts these Servitor units."

Only then did she finally lean against a wall as her wounds were starting to catch up to her, power armor aided muscles or no. She chuckled quietly as she extinguished the flames on her back and nodded to Felyx.
"I'll use the time to fix your broken low gothic. The language is coarse at the best of times, but you've found a way to truly distort it. Almost impressive."

Perhaps for the first time, Felyx's smile was made not with dead-eyes, but with a spark of something else. It wasn't as sinister as one might expect, but it did tell of a deeper story that apparently no one on the crew had caught on to. This was good; Felyx preferred it this way.

"Ah, thanking to you. I am to thinking..." He trailed off as Des-Ray94 approached. He listened intently, as though he was mesmerized. Or had a concussion. It could really go either way.

"Your penetrating to me is being appreciated, Tech Adepts Des... Re..."

Felyx had finally gone to sleep.

Neriglissar wrote:

Lokar watched the men work a while waiting to see someone giving orders, perhaps decorated somehow or with a fancy headdress of some kind. After a short time he spotted someone who fit the bill and boldly strode up to them.

Standing there looking and smelling like the barbarian he was, he glared at them square in the eyes and said. You there! I am Lokar of the Inqusition and I have a top-secret mission on the planet. You will provide me a shuttle and pilot and you will do so 'quietly' or face the wrath of Inquisitor Grimm! .. Now!

The workers paused in their work and watched the exchange between Lokar and the adept who seemed unfazed by the demands. Perhaps he was used to passing inquisitorial acolytes demanding passage, perhaps Lokars bluster lacked something... the barbarian did at least look like a crewman which perhaps meant his demands had some weight.

"Sure, no problem." the adept holds up both hands palms forward in contrition. "I'll just contact the bridge and get them to open the bay doors. Fueling will take 10 minutes" He directs the works to start refueling and then points to a comms point on a wall "I'll just go call the bridge then?" he questions.

Lokar tried to hide his irritation at being treated the same as everyone else in the room. He decided not to push his luck.

You will not, as I said, this mission is top-secret, I haven't told the bridge of my plans. If you insist He snarls with disapproval then I will go make the arrangements.

He spins on his heel and starts walking towards the door ''Oh well, that didn't work'' he thought. Feeling around in his pockets he found the beer token he got from the bar, and decided to get a drink.

The medicae bay like much of the rest of the ship appears run down, the room Felyx and Severine are provided though is particularly clean and in a quiet corner. Des-Ray and her attendants provide excellent care and you spend a few days with your feet up and there’s ample time to bond or annoy depending on how the conversations went.

Upon their release from the medical deck both Felyx and Severine were told to return in a few days for their dressings to be checked. You both still felt a little sore and weak but that passed over the next few days. Felyx returned to his bunk, eased out his dataslate from his pack and plugged himself in. Until Maud called all Felyx did was review the information taken from Mauds cogitator and occasionally sleep. Also annoying things like eating and shitting.

Severine returned to her cell, it was simple and spartan. She gathered up what she needed for cleansing the observation deck; prayer book, incense, candles and then she sought out brother Hemant. She had not spent much time with the priest and she was sure the priest  would try and avoid her when she visited the chapel. Rumours on the ship said that he had lost his faith and was a drunkard. It was early so brother Hemant had not had a chance to get drunk, he was bleary eyed though and his breath was stale with liquor from the night before. He was mortified to be found in such a state by a sister and offered his apologies and was of course only too happy to assist however he could. The next few days were spent in the observation deck; hundreds of candles were kept alight throughout, incense was used in abundance and many prayers to Him on his golden throne were said. After many hours Severine deemed that she could do no more, brother Hemant had been all but useless during the first day as he cleared his hangover but had proved to have some use subsequently.


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Damiel felt the combat servitors baton pass an inch over his head as he ducked under a high horizontal attack, he stepped diagonally to the left and wielded his training blade over his shoulder attacking into the servitors now exposed side. The blunt blade smacked into the back of the servitors head ending the combat.

Philomena had directed him to the place; a combat cage and firing range. The cage was equipped with a sturdy combat servitor with some basic training routines, it was not overly challenging but when you pushed yourself over and over again to let tiredness creep in it was a good workout. Damiel stretches, his bruised body evidence that he hadn’t won all of the countless rounds. He felt the cold trickle of sweat down the back of his neck… he could certainly do with a shower.

He then heard again the sound of gunfire from the range, some powerful projectile single shot weapon. It had started just after he’d engaged the servitor. This was the first time in four days that he had had company. Grabbing a towel Damiel rubs it through his hair and the back of his neck as he exits the cage and walks around to the range.

The stranger has his back to you, he dressed in grey fatigues and is examining the target he’d been shooting at. Damiel can see tight groupings around the head and centre chest on the range silhouette, the man was clearly a good shot. The stranger picks up his rifle and turns, a smile initially forms as he see’s Damiel but it quickly soured to a sneer, then a frown as his brow furrows. His gives a nod and then walks on by.

As Damiel returns to his room he thinks over the brief encounter; he couldn’t for the life of him remember what the man looked like. He recalled him being average and non-descript but that was it. Perhaps he was just tired…


++++++++


He’d only wanted to have a look at the planet, a brief trip, go to a few bars and perhaps find a wench. Foiled Lokar retreats to the recreational hub, there were a number of bars and he chose the most rowdy. Donna was hard to miss, her green hair tied up into a flowing mohawk took her to almost seven feet. She was entertaining a group of crew who looked upon her in awe and a healthy dose of fear. There was likely no man in the bar who could best her in an arm wrestle and Lokar realised that included himself.

Lokar pushes through the crowd and orders a round for the group of strangers. Donna looks wired, her pupils large but she is in good spirits and bawls a fist playfully into Lokar’s shoulder.

Hours later supporting each other with arms over shoulders Donna and Lokar stumble out of the bar, both loudly singing a filthy ganger song Donna had been entertaining the group with. They weaved drunkenly through the crowds hoping to get back to their respective bunks before oblivion claimed them.

Turning into a quiet walkway you both pulled up, Donna squints ahead it was that cunt she’d fought with before in the bar a few nights passed. Lokar looked blearily behind; the thug had brought friends. The fat man sporting some ugly bruises chuckles and rubs his large hands together no doubt pleased he’d found Donna and Lokar compromised. “Yer gonna pay fer what yer did.” He then looked at Lokar who had missed the prior bar brawl “You step aside if you know whats good fer ya.” Donna turns to Lokar as she pulls an injector from her belt and stabs it into her arm “tha fat fuckers mine” she growls…

… the fight was brief and bloody, the thugs soon lost heart when Lokar started blasting them with warp fire and lightning. The fat guy was a ruin, Lokar decided it best to wait than try to pull Donna off as she repeatedly head butted the guys skull to a pancake. Overall it was a fine finish to a night out.


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Philomena was well known on the bridge and was given friendly greetings from some of the officers she’d spent time socialising with. Captain Bartholomew didn’t appear to be on the bridge so she made her way over to the ships First Officer Jane Wayward and asks for detail on the planet Kul. The officer is only to happy to help and punches in a few commands at a nearby cogitator and then invites Philomena to sit. The planet Kul spins on the view screen with a wealth of information accessible.

There is detail on the planets climate, geography, demographics, government and economy. Basic information on the three main hives and lists of many minor ones. There is detail on the planets satellites and some brief detail on its military. As Philomena pours over the information she picks up the smell of Captain Bartholomew cologne, an overly sweet smell that mixed unpleasantly with the fat captains sweat. She ignored the insufferable man until she was finished with her research.

Once she was done she stood and faced Captain Bartholomew who stepped forward eagerly, he rubs at nest of large warts on his fatty neck folds. In another life she wouldn’t have had the time of day for him but Maud was getting old and frail and it was important that Philomena made allies. She knew the captain was smitten with her but she found it easy to skilfully bat away his advances without offending him. Always leaving the door slightly ajar to keep him hooked.

She gave him a warm smile which seemed to make his day. “M’lady” he splutters a little with nervous energy “I couldn’t help but notice you studying the planet we orbit. Please come to dinner at my table tonight and I’m sure I can add some detail that the cogitator lacks.” It was a good opportunity to learn more and it also meant mixing with the other officers so she would at least have a diversion once she was done with the Captain… by the end of the evening Philomena knew more detail on the information she already discovered and the Captain and much more, he was a reasure trove of information, it appeared he was useful for something. If they were to work on Kul Philomena hoped the Inquisitor had the right connections as otherwise moving beyond the stranger's quarters would be extremely difficult.


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On the fifth day as you all sit together over your celebratory feast for defeating the deamonhost you recieve orders from a crewman. Inquisitor Maud will see you in the morning at 09:00.

[In the Med Bay]

Felyx spent the first hour in deep meditation as the sedative that Des-Ray gave him slowly wore off. When Severine finally looked over at him, he was staring at her unblinking. Apparently, that was how he meditated.

His words were slow at first, but he forced his eyes open, yawned, and farted loudly. Felyx was not an ugly man. In fact, if it wasn't for everything else, people might even consider him attractive. But it was hard for most to get over everything else.

The Scribe-Tine cybernetic left hand clicked along the safety bar on his bed before his eyes blinked.

"Good to mornings you, Severine-War Fighter."

In the Med Bay

Severine had spent the time while Felyx slept enjoying the silnce. She'd been stripped of her armor when she arrived so she could actually be tended to, but insisted it be left behind while she rexovered.
She went through each piece of the power armor, re-applying sacred oils to the joints and writing out hymns to sheets of parchment that she sealed with wax to the armor to replace those that had burned away in the warpfire created by the daemonhost.

All this was done while speaking a litany of prayers to the emperor, asking for his blessing over the armor and herself.

She was jarred out of her meditation by the sudden movement from Felyx, among other noises...

"For a member of the mechanicus you are quite fond of making as many annoying organic functions as possible. Good morning, Felyx-Air Tainter. Did you dream of Des-Ray penetrating you more?"

Lokar arives at the feast whenever the hell he feels like it.. He nods knowingly to Donna when he see's her.

During the festivities he did his best to use the knife and fork, tho', he forgot himself from time to time and shoveled food into his face with his hands.

What do you think Master Maud will command us to do next? Without waiting long enough for anyone to respond the young feral answers his own question. I think.. the Demon host had a Demon Prince as its master and undertaking a dark ritual this master sent power through the twisted realm to the host. This is clearly how it broke its bonds. He displays the confidence of someone who knows everything. Master Maud will most lightly have us hunting down and destroying this Demon Prince's cults, down on the planet below. What do you think!? He asked the room.

Philomena sits at the table, her posture impeccable. She raises an eyebrow at the shortage of cutlery. A single fork? Was she meant to eat everything with it? She sighs as she pushes a piece of meat around her plate as she muses. She looks up at the others and sees Lokar shove something into his mouth with his fingers. It seems a single fork was too much for some.

Mina frowns as the barbarian speculates. "It is unwise to entertain such thoughts. It will bias your mind and skew your observations. The Inquisitor will brief us tomorrow. We will know our task then."

She stabs a piece of food with her fork and brings it to her mouth. She daintily pulls if off the tines with her teeth and chews it carefully before swallowing. "Though I did not find anything that could hint at our mission, I did find a wealth of information on our theatre of operations. Kul is a Hive World known for it's lasweapon lens manufacturing. They are very insular, limiting outsiders to certain sectors, and wear intricate gears to denote their station. We will need to procure some if we wish to operate discreetly, but we may ultimately have to rely on our status to get access."

"I have prepared a more detailed briefing. You'll find it in your quarters' cogitator."

Donna hardly ate any of the food, but sought every scrap of aamasec she could muster, low gade or high grade.
"As long as they 'ave us killin sump'in instead of sittin 'round an' lookin' awl spiffy." she says in response to Lokar.

She eyes Philomena suspiciously, "Is'it alot? Oui ain' got no talent for readin.' If it ain't no cook book for drinks, slaught, smut, or disembowlin' books with lots o' pictures then oui aint gonna remember much."