A Candle in the Dark Side Thread IC

The door to your quarters opens quickly and carefully. A man in ragged adeptus clothing slinks through the doorway and softly closes the door behind him.

His eyes look about wildly and desperately. Heavy bags sag under his eyes, while clumps of his hair are missing. He anticipates that you're about to speak and holds a quivering finger over his lips, silently "shh"ing you. He gestures over his shoulder, then makes a slicing motion across his throat. His motions are convulsive and shaky.

Marius had not been happy.

Weakness.

He thought the suffering he had endured would have given him strength to complete this mission but his flesh and soul had betrayed him. The constant memories of The Burning of the 9th Spire, and now the severe frostbite that that stubbornly been refusing to recede, left him worrying that he would prove to be more of a liability than an aid. Marius had done his best to hide the nature of his doubt through keeping busy; he had continued treating his frostbite with mechanical efficiency, keeping up a constant rotation of temp-cycling and salve application.

For the briefest moment, a smirk crossed his face. Loathe as he was to admit it, he wanted to keep up his professionalism for Alistair. That hardened bastard was a good man to have in a crisis, no doubt, but Marius suspected that only applied to those in his good graces. So, no one. he thought to himself, the smirk becoming a grin.

Marius' triage was interrupted by the mad-man slipping into their quarters. His sudden appearance was almost more of a relief than a surprise; finally, some evidence that something was most definitely wrong with this station. Marius looked the man over, assessing his condition:

Light bruising of the orbital cavity, lack of sleep. Missing hair, source unknown, possible evidence of radiation poisoning. Erratic movement, evidence of neural disruption. Preliminary diagnosis: exposure to unknown contaminant. Treatment... uncertain.

Marius nodded to acknowledge the man's insistence that they remain quiet. He rose slowly and quietly from the bunk he had been sitting on, gesturing to his shotgun and inclining his head out the door; best to know whether or not they'd need force in case the man had been followed or, worse, if they were heading towards something violent.

Medicae:

Donna had been pacing with her chainsword hefted over her shoulder, her attention jerks to the door as the cogman shambles in and makes his gestures.

What was his game? she wondered. Was he threatening them? or was he saying they were about to be attacked?

Without having a definitive plan, she eyes the others to see what they were going to do....

Given that Donna had been agitated enough to pace in the room, Alistair had taken the opportunity to nap after their ordeal in the snowstorm. As such, when the figure entered the room, Alistair’s eye slowly opened, hand reaching for his lasgun. As the man indicates that they should remain silent, Alistair leans over to his combat vest and fishes out some scrap paper and a marker, and offers them to the man.

Shaking, the man reaches for the pen and paper. He sets the paper down on the floor before him and scrawls out a note. His script is jagged and spastic, but legible all the same.

HELP NEED YOUR HELP GET ME OFF PLANET

The man bites his lip as he holds the note up for you to read, his eyes pleading. You can only imagine the horrors he has witnessed, nor what monstrosities are lodged in his memory...

Donna looks over the shoulder as the trembling hand scratches down it message.
She now had dozens of questions for him now, but knew better than to speak out loud.

Instead, she inspects the dirty cogman for signs of ahem....."oil"

As the man scribbles on the paper, Alistair sighs. He really just wanted to sleep after that snow storm, but everyone seemed to believe in ruining that hope. Once the scribbling finished, Alistair leaned over, took the marker, and wrote a simple, WHY?

The man snatches the marker back to scrawl a response in the same jagged, sloppy script.

PEOPLE AT FACILITY ARE DISAPPEARING THINK THEY ARE BEING KILLED OR WORSE PLEASE THERES NO SAFE PLACE HERE YOUR MY ONLY CHANCE

Convinced he wasn't like their concierge, and after reading his scribbled reply, she responds with a "Pssss, I 'ad enough o this."

She walks to one of the padded seats in the corner and plops down in it. Reclining against the wall.

She puts her arms behind her head and closes her eyes.
"Let me be knowin wot yew wawnt me to do. Oui'm jus a bodyguard an'ways."

Marius frowned slightly at Donna's display. Most unprofessional, he thought inwardly.

Peeking over to see the scrawled words, his frown deepened. Seems it was time for them to take a slightly more... straightforward approach to the situation. Without speaking, he pumped his shotgun, ratcheting a shell into place, and nodded. It was time to purge whatever had infected the station.

"Marchin' orders, Alistair?" he inquired, wanting to ensure that they were of an accord.

Alistair frowned in confusion as the medic grabbed his shotgun.

"Ah, well, we've just got a lot of surveying to do before we leave. There a lot we don't know about this rock. Also, our ride isn't going to be back for a while, no point in lounging about doing nothing. So, hole up for the night? I'm still hurting a bit, and don't really fancy doing anything right now. After a bit of R&R, we can reassess?"

Alistair looked at the quivering intruder. "We could drop some surplus gear off to the Arvus tomorrow, if that helps." Looking back towards Marius, "Of course, I'm not the boss here. If you think it's time to speed things up, I'm willing to follow suit. Just give me some time to patch myself up."

The righteous fires that had begun to burn within Marius dimmed slightly. He shook his head; of course, Alistair was right, they were still running somewhat ragged from their expedition into the arctic wastes. Their situation, however seemed somewhat more urgent than Alistair was giving it credit for.  At the word "surveying", Marius grimaced: did the man really think their act was still necessary given the evidence that was staring them in the face?

"I'd feel best if we checked in with our compatriots to make that decision... and would be far more comfortable doing a quite reconnoiter to make sure nothing truly foul is afoot in our vicinity. I'd be happy to change your dressings and provide a everyone with some mild stimulants for that patrol; they should wear off soon enough to make sure we can all get some rest but will keep us sharp in case there's an emergency. Is that a suitable course of action?"

The man jumps with a start as you all hear the sounds of a sharp crack from another room. Quivering uncontrollably now, he looks for a place to hide and pulls himself under a bed like a dog in a thunderstorm.

Marius sighed; it seemed like he'd have to wait to test his dehydrated re-caff pills some other time.

He looked to Alistair, a sly grin forming on his face.

"Shall we go survey the disturbance, sir?"

Donna sits up and pretends to stretch and yawn.
"Nuffin' like a good fo'tie winks to straighten out the ruffles in me knickers." she says, keeping up the obviously fake act that she slept in the last 5 minutes.

She garbs her belt with the holstered autopistol and her chainsword.

She then looks under the bed at the techpriest.
"They be monsters under tha beds 'ere." she replies as sarcastic as ever.

The man doesn't respond to Donna. He bites his fist with a terrified look in his eyes.

Alistair shot a glare at Marius, before breaking out into a shit eating grin.

"Yeah, I reckon that deserves some surveying."

Alistair started to collect his gear, slipping on his combat vest.

"If you want to have a quick look, time allowing, and check me for major frostbite? Also, if you've got mild stims, that would be useful. On the other hand, I should be fine if we need to go now." Alistair looks over at Donna. "Well, it sounds like it might be time to have some fun Donna."

She smiles enthusiastically.

"Tha ultra'violence is always a bit o' fun."

Marius returned Alistair's grin. Maybe, beneath the man's stone exterior, there was a friend to be had.

"Certainly! Tell me what's numb and I'll ensure there's no serious damage and provide salve for problem cases." He rooted around in his combat vest, pulling out a small plastic container filled with some misshappen brown pills. "These have approximately the stimulant capacity of a cup of recaf. They can be taken orally or via encephalation. The latter provides a more portent, albeit shorter, effect but be warned: it'll sting a little."

Frost-bite Treatment:

Indicating a few spots on his body, mostly limbs, Alistair gestured to his own medikit.

"Feel free to use some of my supplies. I would have given it a go myself, but I would have preferred to sleep instead. Actually, a cup of recaf would go down really well. Oh well, we do what we must. Speaking of which..."

Alistair poked his head under the bed to look at their guest.

"We're off to have some fun. You can stay here, or come along, but you'll have to follow orders."

[Underdecks]

Felyx looked up as Marius rounded the corner. It was a fortunate turn of events. When Marius mentioned staying busy, the tech priest smiled his undead smile.

"She was losing in fighting; I was losing in moneys. But, maybe made something out of the nothings." Felyx jerked a thumb back the way they came - Nails' quarters. Marius no doubt could not see inside, but the implication that something went down in there was clear enough.

"Donna Matrix was telling to me how she is liking to fight, liking to kill," he shrugged as if he didn't really see it.

[Lower Hive - Ewald Muhl's]

Felyx, Donna and Egill make their way through the lower hive. It takes a few hours to reach their destination on foot, but it sure does bring an interesting array of sights.

The massive remains of garangantuan sea creatures lumber past on flatbed cars of cargo trains, ribcages the size of small voidships. Arbites officers in riot gear patrol the streets, swinging their batons or drawing shotguns threateningly at passerby for seemingly no reason. Hive gangers linger on city streets, staring with jaded eyes at the passing group, muttering amongst themselves. At one point, the party gets a view of the docks framed by the towering high-rises, a vast strech of shipping vessels and fishing boats bobbing on restless water, with a enormous "door" in the sea wall that may close to shelter the port in a storm.

Their journey to Torquemada's contact takes them away from the docks and deeper into Lono's densely packed arcology. The man lives in a neighborhood of the slums that is relatively far from the main thoroughfares, tucked away behind a promethium processing facility. From the outside, Muhl's place doesn't look like much - a small, blockish building dwarfed by the factory on one side and massive plascrete hive-support pillars on the other. The street is dimly lit and vacant aside from a few beggars down the way.

Metal grates cover each of the windows, with shades drawn tightly behind them. A short set of cracked stairs rises to a reinforced door. There's no sign of life the first few times you buzz the door, before a raspy voice crackles over the vox placed into the wall beside the door.

"What do you want?"

"Ewald Muhl," Felyx responded almost immediately, not willing to give away Torquemada's name without a verification as to who the voice behind the vox was.

"We are friending to his friend. Mutual friending. Much to discussing."

Still on the shoulders of Servitor, he looks over to Egill and gives two big thumbs up. Clearly, he's nailing the small talk and introductions.

The vox was silent for a moment.

"Who are you and who do you work for?"

His tone is flat, probably carefully modulated to reveal nothing to a couple of strangers knocking at his door.

"Sayings over Vox is being stupid in extreme. It is being as if you were to taking the wrench and TORKing to a wrong pipe and employer is to become MADDER and MADDER. TORK to make them MADDER."

With his thumbs still up, Felyx now winked at Egill and Donna. Truly, he was a genius.

[Lower hive - Ewald Muhl's Home]

You hear an assortment of bolts and locks shifting and moving on the other side of the door before it swings open promptly.

A short, rotund man stands inside the door. He wears a crimson smoking jacket made of silk and thick, wide glasses that magnify his eyes slightly. His feet are tucked cozily in some plush, rather-expensive looking slippers.

He stares at you with an expression of mild distaste.

"Get in."

After gesturing to hurry you along inside his home, he leads you through the entry way and into a living room area. The austere exterior betrayed the elegance of Ewald's home - the inside is tastefully furnished with wood panelling and fine decor.

The living room, while small, is rather cozy with a couple plush armchairs and a small wooden table and chairs. A hololithic fire crackles in "fireplace" to one side. On the wall sits a painting in a gilded frame that looks like it's from an artist who is probably famous and impressive if you're a noble or art aficionado who would recognize that type of thing.

Ewald lets out a long sigh and gestures to the chairs and seats around the room.

"Make yourselves at home. Can I interest you in a drink?" He picks up a decanter of amasec and holds it up, looking at the party.

Classical music weaves through the air, playing softly from a vox-player in the corner.

Donna chews on a kabob she had picked off a street grill somewhere along the way. Her open mouth chews loudly and she masticates in an oval motion.
"Got anythin' ard?" she asks, pieces of suspicious meat still in her mouth.

Ewald looks at Donna with amusement.

"It's 25-year amasec. I don't usually host...business associates here, so I'm afraid I don't have anything else to offer. But it should do the trick."

He settles into the chair beside the hololithic fire and takes a sip from his glass.

"You know my name, but I don't know yours - only that of your boss. Care to enlighten me?"

Felyx appraises the room, looking for any surveillance devices at all before offering up any actual information. He tries desperately to ignore Donna's disgusting chewing habits; it seemed to grate at his mind and only the briefest flash of her brain stem in a jar eased him. He quickly pushed the thought away and continued to scan.

"I am being 080."

He waited patiently for the others to introduce themselves. While doing so, he attempted to make note of any books or literature, scrolls, dataslates, etc, that Ewald may have about.

Iron and Metal wrote:

"I am being 080."

Ewald laughs gregariously.

"That's a number, not a name. What do these two call you?"

"I can speak for myself. I'm Egill and the amasec will do fine thanks." he shifted his claymore to a more comfortable position over his back as he scanned the room. He was still getting used to his carapace armour. "She's Donna." he offered nodding to the warrior woman.

Egill took the offered drink, sniffed at it then downed it. He smacked his lips and then places the glass to one side he'd no interest in drinking further yet. He was on the job after all.

Ewald regards the party curiously, his eyes shifting lazily between each of them.

"You're here about the nobles, aren't you? I thought Torquemada might be interested in the situation." He spins the drink slowly on the table beside him. "Strange times indeed..."

Felyx looked over at Donna. "I hearing both 'weirdo' and 'asshole.'" He shrugged. "You may to be calling me any of the threes."

He walked over to the books, leaning down to study titles but never actually touching anything. His demeanor is curious rather than inquisitive.

"I shall be drinking motor oils." He waits for the others to respond in some way before laughing like a maniac. "Kiddings. Only kiddings. I am being partial to slights warmed Grox's milks. In absence of this, amasec is yummies."

His ears perked up as Ewald spoke. "Why does Torquemadas care if some nobles die on some hives?"

"Because it doesn't matter what they're saying on TV, anyone with half a brain knows those three didn't die of natural causes. Doesn't take a coroner a week and a half to figure out someone died of a stroke." Ewald shook his head thoughtfully.

"Three nobles dead in a matter of weeks is enough to turn heads...especially when the Arbites is blatantly lying about it. Tons of rumors and hearsay floating around about whodunnit and why, but regardless, the whole thing stinks. No surprise your boss was interested, really. If someone can off a Lord General and get it covered up, who's next?"

Felyx wanted to immediately reply with Yes, but WHY TORQUEMADA, but resisted the urge. Either Ewald was not picking up the real meaning of his question or was playing his cards close to the vest. Regardless, it didn't matter yet regarding the task at hand.

Instead, he nodded and waited for amasec. He had been making efforts to fit in like "normal" people. Apparently drinking in situations like this was one tick he could train himself to learn. When he got the glass, he drank it just as Egill had done.

He immediately regretted it. It was like smooth fire pouring down his throat and he resisted the urge to cough violently. Instead, he stifled a soft cough before proceeding.

"So, here we are to being - and not at a Television station. What informations do you having?"

Donna downed the drink in one gulp. There was a burn, but not quite as intense as expected.
"Someone rea'y run a 'ord gen'ral ohf?" she asks.

She didnt know what a "lord general" was, but it sounded important, like an arbites judge or something.

Iron and Metal wrote:

"So, here we are to being - and not at a Television station. What informations do you having?"

Ewald chuckled as Felyx choked down the drink.

"Well of course, you wouldn't hear any of this from the media. They're trying - and failing spectacularly - to tamp down the whole thing." Ewald leaned closer, his eyes narrowing.

"I tipped off Torquemada because I have a sinking suspicion that these murders - well, assassinations - are part of something far more sinister. My hunch - take from it what you will - is that someone is picking off key members of the nobility as part of an organized effort to destabilize Tangaroa. And your boss, well, he's made a habit of trusting my intuition on these things."

He leaned back and took another sip of Amasec.

"Now before you dismiss that as half-mad ramblings from a chubby man in the lower hive, consider some of my evidence. I have it on good authority that Vonreuter - our deceased Arbitrator friend - was investigating matters of security within the organization. More specifically, she was concerned about the possibility of informants or moles within the organization. Now, as you likely know, corruption is rampant on Tangaroa - but the assassination of an Arbitrator is more out of the ordinary than simply greasing some palms. What was she investigating and why was someone so keen to keep it secret? I don't know...in an isolated incident, this may be dismissed as business as usual, but look at Quegox."

"A member of your own, er, sect..." Ewald gestured towards Felyx, "Axiarch was a genetor, a researcher of Tangaroan flora and fauna. Rather uninteresting at first glance...but several of my informants tell me that he wasn't simply investigating acidic resistance in plankton or the migratory patterns of zanfish." A wry smile crosses his lips. "Apparently the Magos had a penchant for turning over stones best left untouched, and was a bit of a xenobiologist. Started to earn the attention of the Ecclesiarchy. I don't know what he was studying, but the point is that we have two individuals who were investigating something they shouldn't. Toss in a dead lord general - I agree Donna, quite remarkable - and you have a very interesting case indeed."

"If you have any more specific questions for me, I would be happy to fill you in on what I may know...or where you may be able find out more."

Felyx extended his lower lip and shook his head. It was a gesture he had seen others do to show at once disagreement with a statement in an almost shocked way.

"I am disagreeing to nothing of your hunches. Assassination for to destabilizations, very real threat indeed."

Felyx began logging away the names and information around their deaths:

Vonreuter - Arbitrator, female. Investigating corruption within the Adeptus Arbites. Deceased. Likely an inside job to protect the guilty's identity(ies).
Quegox - Tech Priest Genetor, specializing in flora and fauna, male. Investigating/Researching xenos. Deceaed. Possibly at the hands of zealous Eccesiarchal agents.
Lord General - currently no additional information.

"What of the Lord General's death is being out of ordinary - aside from out of ordinariness of the death itself? Vonreuter - did she having any allies we can making contact to? Quegox - where is his lab to being? If I was to accessing his researches, must have places to start."

Egill didn't like it. He hadn't heard anything that was heretical yet and so why were they here? It was hard to get motivated putting down ordinary criminals. So he spoke his mind...

"So you think its something more sinister. Something that our lord would be interested in. Where is the sign of the xeno, demon, witch or those that worship them. That's what our boss would be interested in, right? Is it really just based on a hunch? That seems a weak cause to bring in the inquisition."

Iron and Metal wrote:

"What of the Lord General's death is being out of ordinary - aside from out of ordinariness of the death itself? Vonreuter - did she having any allies we can making contact to? Quegox - where is his lab to being? If I was to accessing his researches, must have places to start."

Carnelian wrote:

"So you think its something more sinister. Something that our lord would be interested in. Where is the sign of the xeno, demon, witch or those that worship them. That's what our boss would be interested in, right? Is it really just based on a hunch? That seems a weak cause to bring in the inquisition."

Ewald raises an eyebrow ever so slightly at Egill's comments. He takes another sip of his drink, letting his gaze wander to the fire for a moment.

"My dear Egill...have you ever heard of an association known as the Astral Knives?" He fixes his eyes back upon the barbarian.

"I suspect not, as it's probably above your pay grade, no offense."

He cleared his throat.

"They're a bizarre cult that performs ritual sacrifice under the guise of protecting vessels travelling through the warp...but turned to the Dark Powers some time ago. They were declared heretical by the Ordos, but unfortunately many survived as they went into hiding. I tipped off your master to a cabal hiding in orbit over Tangaroa, which led him to many other cells of their organization throughout the sector. They were planning on bombing our largest orbital dock...god knows what the other cells were scheming. One of them had even earned a spot as an aide to a Lord High Captain in the Imperial Navy, mind you."

"Inquisitor Layran. An old associate of Torquemada's, or so I'm told. At least until he - and his entire team - vanished several years ago investigating a xenos conspiracy at the hands of Arch-Heretic Mychella Sinderfell. One of my colleagues passed some information on to me that helped your lordship pinpoint the location of said heretic. I trust he was exterminated quite thoroughly."

He pauses for a moment to pour himself some more amasec.

"I told you that your master had made a habit of trusting my intelligence reports, and I like to think that was with good reason. I doubt he would appreciate you questioning his wisdom. However, you are more than welcome to bring that matter up with the Inquisitor himself if you find an investigation of a Lord General's assassination below your station - not to mention the associated cover-up occuring for all three deaths."

"Now, to your point Felyx - I covered the facts from my most reliable sources. I would stake my reputation to their veracity. However, there are some other reports regarding the deaths of all three individuals that are more questionable...but pertinent nonetheless. Several of my contacts have reported that the autopsies revealed some...unusual details. Unnatural, even. No signs of trauma. No bruises, no cuts or stabs, no bullet wounds, nothing...and yet scans were purported to reveal brain damage of some sort. Could be psychic activity, could be alien weaponry...hard to say without a good look at the bodies."

Egill folds his muscled arms in annouance, his displeasure clear on his face "I said nothing of the sort, whatever you may think. I do not doubt your intelligence or my masters orders. I'm just looking for the 'meat' of the problem, where the heresy is at."

While Ewald continues to speak Egill helps himself to another drink. The barbarian listens intently to what the man had to say.

"Ah, and now we get to heart of the matter, they've been killed by some 'other' means. Perhaps you should have said so to start." Egill says bluntly before pausing a moment to down his drink. "Do you think there is any chance of viewing any of the victims?"

Donna just listened, bored mostly.

As Ewald spoke, Felyx began slamming through the data spools of his brain, accessing and navigating scores of information on Imperial bureaucracy, the Adeptus Arbites, what he had studied of the occult and the more forbidden information he had acquired regarding certain illegal Imperial organizations. Of course, he saved his knowledge of the Adeptus Mechanicus for last, knowing that he would have a wealth of data at his "fingertips" so to speak.

"Ewald host. Are you having a secure data pad and uplink in this warm hovel?"

Carnelian wrote:

Egill folds his muscled arms in annouance, his displeasure clear on his face "I said nothing of the sort, whatever you may think. I do not doubt your intelligence or my masters orders. I'm just looking for the 'meat' of the problem, where the heresy is at."

While Ewald continues to speak Egill helps himself to another drink. The barbarian listens intently to what the man had to say.

"Ah, and now we get to heart of the matter, they've been killed by some 'other' means. Perhaps you should have said so to start." Egill says bluntly before pausing a moment to down his drink. "Do you think there is any chance of viewing any of the victims?"

"Means aside, the assassination of a Lord General - the highest-ranking military officer on a hive planet of 32 billion - is quite a cause for concern. Murdering one of the most crucial servants of the Emperor on a planet is heresy, plain and simple, whether the assailant used psychic abilities or the blade of a knife...although I must concede that more supernatural means are more interesting and unusual, no doubt."

"As for the bodies, well, you may inquire with the corresponding Arbites station, but I can imagine they are keeping the bodies closely guarded to maintain the ruse that they simply died of natural causes."

Iron and Metal wrote:

"Ewald host. Are you having a secure data pad and uplink in this warm hovel?"

"Well of course. I may be old-fashioned, but I'm not primitive," he says with a smile.

Felyx accepts with a creepy smile and jacks into the system. He quickly begins combing the intranet for certain keywords relating to the deceased Tech Priest Biologis. It didn't take long to sift through the static and find what he was really looking for.

After about 45 minutes to an hour, he removes himself.

"I have sufficiently informations from the intrawebs. Thanks to you for letting me to jack into your datapad. In good faith and humility, I have jacked off so that it is being just as I found it."

He puts his thumb and index finger of his scribe tine, cybernetic hand against his chin. Anyone not used to him may have found the sight upsetting. Servitor looked upset. Then again, Servitor always looked upset.

"He definitely was running a fowl of the Ecclesiarchies. Sent to remote lab. Claims to have been killed in... larceny attempt? Is not to adding ups. Gangers and secret Mechanicus laboratory not making much senses. Oh, also I know where laboratories is."

Felyx smiled, but this time it was sincere. Equally off putting.

Ewald stands up, nodding at the party.

"Well, if you have no more questions for me, it is getting quite late. I bid you good luck on your investigations, and should you have any more questions, here is a code to reach me on my personal vox...although I must emphasize that it is not a very secure means of communication."

Felyx immediately took the code, not trusting either the Barbarian or Drug-slut to take proper care of it. He big Ewald a very awkwards thanks and farewell before turning to head out into the hive.

Egill grunts at Ewalds response, he supposed he just liked things more cut and dry. Their last mission was more his thing; the warp and obvious heretics by the dozen. He had much to learn it seemed, but he was an eager pupil. His faith in the Emperor burned bright in his chest and his ambition was the same. He came from a system that the Angels of Death used as a recruitment ground, but he was taken by the blackships before the harvesting festival, where new aspirants were chosen. If he could not be one of the angels he was damned sure to make the most of joining the inquisition, a second best.  

He stayed quiet as Felyx spoke although he was sure he was the best mentor for such things. They had a lead or two, he was ready to go.

As they leave, Donna trots up to Felyx with a mischievous gin on her face,
"yew 'jacked owf' in his da'a'apad? Ow did thawt go? Dew we need to stohp for some lho?"