Faith and Fire

Cornuthaum · Nov 20, 2018

Zeitgeist Blue said:
She backed up, speaking to Pia curtly as there was little time for niceties. "I shall take up the flank. Cover me and let the civilians fight or don't and fight here."

"Affirmative. Pacifying northern group." A brief pause - ten heartbeats if that - ensues as Pia begins to move north, brushing aside civilians and bringing up her flamer.

She can see the staccato flashes of a heavy stubber gun to her right and, in the quiet of her mind, speaks to her Flamer. Machine-Spirit, let my anger be your anger, let the God-Emperor's anger be our anger. Cleanse the the filth of treason and heresy, and lift the souls of the martyred to His side on the thermal updraft of their burning bodies.

Stoke your wrath, as hot as any sun, oh Machine Spirit, and let us unleash it! Let them burn!

"BURN!" she shouts, just one word, and unleashes a vicious torrent of flame on the stubber emplacement, the jet of igniferous materials washing over the position, through cracks and past obstacles, to cover traitor-flesh and consume it with cleansing hate.

And if she has the time? She will make those poor souls who vent their rage at the plague ravaging their bodies at the heretic into martyrs, to free them from the touch of contagion and slay the traitors they fight in the same breath.

(Move northeast past the car, burn out the heavy stubber group of cultists, then on successive rounds burn any larger cluster of cultists, then go southeast where Eriko is overwatching ATM to prepare for relieving Maria.)

Shephard · Nov 23, 2018

Pia marches forth through the baying crowd, a hail of rounds screaming past her and tearing chunks out of the ceramite at her feet. Here and there she idly registers an impact on her armor. Behind her, she hears the gangers firing, sees cultists drop screaming, sees those infected with the schechin plague gunned down even as they seek shelter behind the gangers. She continues on into the storm of fire, seeing the eyes of the heretic filth widen as you near.

"Run! Run for your lives!" The heavy stubber operator bellows, fleeing her position as others follow suit. Not all though. Or at least, not fast enough.

"Holdfast! In the names of the true gods, hold fast!" One heroic fool shouts, brandishing a rusty sword at Pia. He is the first to be struck by the heat of her flamer, cremated and turned to ash in an instant. Others behind him die slightly slower, screaming as the flame rushes over their flesh and cooks the meat from their bones within seconds. A forth heretic has the ill fortune to be caught right at the edge of the flamer blast, his work clothing catching alight. He flails about, screaming in agony as he falls, cooking. The remaining cultists flee, screaming for the hills, leaving only a scarce handful still firing at her or wrapped in melee with bellowing black rot victims. Even these seem about read to flee, a number among them dropping their weapons and fleeing into the distance.

Amidst the throng, the last of the frenzied civilians are brought down. Some by blade and fist, their broken bodies dropped to the rockcrete. Some with a somewhat gentler touch. Caelia's whip lashes out, wrapping around a civilian's arm and dropping them to the ground. Behind her, Derosa rips a club out of a howling madman's arm and shatters it across her knee. "Down." She growls, voice thick with menace.

Not far away, Eriko pounds down the creaking flakboard, raising her shotgun to the air. One of the mutants shouts out in a language unknown to her ear, rushing forward with shield brandished. Eriko hammers the trigger, rounds bursting against the plassteel shield, ripping away chunks of metal and spraying the flakboard with flechette fragments, a few even ricocheting up across the mutant's face and leaving deep cuts torn into its thick hide. She adjusts her fire downward into the creature's thigh. The thick hide of the creature offers no protection against the storm of flechettes, which flay the flesh away and carve open the bone until it collapses under the mutant's weight. It falls with an agonized howl. The other mutant snarls, leaping forward as its chainaxe howls. The gangers tear into it, rounds tearing into its thick hide, but it does not slow.

"Aksho Kharneth Akhash!" It howls. She tries to bring the shotgun around, but she's too slow. IT slams into her, smashing her against the railing and nearly bowling her over entirely. A moment later, the chainaxe descends with shocking accuracy, cleaving straight into the weakpoint of the upper elbow with enough force to jar her to the bone, the howling teeth spitting out shards and drawing droplets of blood. Sparks sputter from the damaged servos as pain lances up her arm, shotgun spilling out of her hand to clatter to the ground at her feet. She slams a backhand across the beast's face, knocking it back before it can sever the arm completely. It spits a gob of black blood on the ground, smiling.

"So you do bleed." It laughs. "I am the first and last of my clan! If I die here, I do gladly beneath the eyes of the gods! Your lying priest told us of your false gods, your lying priest told us of your Emperor, your Goddess of Flowers, your King with the Flaming Sword. But when we told him of our gods, he brought you upon us. Fire and bolt." It spits the word. "Even the deadmen from the stars and their rotting god were not as mighty as you. A hundred of our greatest warriors, slain like gnats. Not a scar upon your plate. I thought you immortal. And how I suffered hiding in the dark. But the Dark called me. They have made me champion! And you bleed! I made a god bleed! Your blood for my sisters, my brothers, my mother! Blood for blood!"

The cultists swarm forward, howling and bellowing. Two ganger, bulging with vatgrown muscle, charge forward, trying to keep them off. "Protect the Sister!" One bellows, as she cleaves through the arm and breast of a cultist, but the rest pile onward. One heavy falls like a felled tree, his nose driven into his brain by a pistol whip. The other staggers and falls to his knees, cultists scrabbling at him and a heavy blade biting deep enough into his flak vest to knock the wind out of him. More cultists leap at Sister Eriko, clawing at her armor and trying to weigh her down with her bodies. The mutant laughs, pulling back the action of its chainaxe.
"All our lives are worthy giving for yours." It growls. "Know me, as Prince Zulanis! Son of a murdered people! Chosen of the Dark Gods! Slayer of the Throne-God's daughters!"

Gunfire and cries ring out from the middle of the crowd, only to cut off nearly as soon as they began with the double-booms of boltguns. Screams of panic are drowned out by shouted orders and harsh demands.

"Shots fired in mid crowd." Sister-Superior Selveria's voice growls over the vox. "The Guildsmen panicked, and opened fire on the crowd. We're getting the situation under control. Casualties are minimal, thank the Emperor."

Down below, Ollanius laughs in horror at Sister Maria's command.

"Hold that?" He asks, barking out a laugh. "I know my ma named me Ollanius, but that doesn't mean I'm going to pull a Pius, Sister!"

The abomination turns toward him, brandishing its poison dripping claws. "Ah, bugger me." He hisses, brandishing his blade as it begins to charge at him.

A moment later, Illana falls from the sky upon wings of flame. She slams into the pavement, the rockcrete cracking beneath the force of her descent, and snaps up her boltgun. The shot is hasty and almost blind, but she feels the servos of her armor hastily adjust at the last moment, bringing her boltgun sights right on target. The bolt screams forward, the mutant twisting about with an uncanny speed that belies its rotted flesh and bulk. Yet, it is not quick enough to dodge the blow entire. The round punches into its leg at the knee, blowing apart the thick calf muscle and severing its flipper covered foot. A gout of vomit green blood spurts from the wound, unholy vapors rising into the air. Tumorous growths across the creature's body are ripped apart by shrapnel and burst, spilling more thick miasma into the air even as the creature totters to the ground.

Ollanius staggers back at the gaseous emissions, and after a moment, vomits onto his shoes. He groans as he staggers back. "Those were brand sodding new!" A moment later a pistol round punches into his vest, knocking him back a step. "Skek you! Skek this! Skek you all!" He bellows, raising his sidearm. The gun booms, blowing apart a cultist's head in a spray of broken bone and brains. "I'm Ollanius Black! I don't have to take this sort of shite!"

Maria's heavy bolter rings out, tearing into the abominations just as they prepare to fall upon the remaining ganger. The first round punches through the meat of a monster's thigh and detonates in the air behind it, tearing its back with shrapnel. The creature steps forward without even flinching, even as noxious blood gushes from its wound and unholy vapors fill the air. The second round turns the creature's right arm to pulp, dropping it to the ground and spreading the miasma yet farther. The remainder of the burst screams toward the second abomination, but it rolls aside with unnatural grace, bones popping and cracking out of place to shift aside from the oncoming fire. Then, it whips forward with blinding speed, moving its pestilent corpse across the pavement in an instant. Vicious claws bite into Maria's leg, the Indomitable groaning as it strikes again and again in the flash of a second, tearing away shards of ceramite. A brief flicker of pain registers in Maria's mind, a single talon biting through her armor into her skin. She beats the creature back with the heft of her weapon, and then begins to sway as her leg begins to grow stiff and numb. Poison alerts flicker through her helm, anti-toxins pumping into her bloodstream and containing the poison. But she feels the effect of it nonetheless, muscles throughout her leg cramped and weak. A serious blow could easily be fatal. The air fills with miasma, blocking her sight and swirling about her like a living thing, making it all too difficult to make out the snarling creature a mere meter away.

Across the bridge, the hulking mutant peers at the miasma. "You. Go test that out." The mutant barks at one of the cultists.
"What, me? Warp no. What if I catch the Black Rot or whatever?" The cultist shakes his head.
"Do it." The mutant snarls.
"Skek that. You ain't my boss, you tribal piece of shi-"

The mutant's chainaxe splits the cultist from breastbone to groin and drops him to the pavement. "Anyone else want to argue?" It asks. The other two cultists hastily shake their heads and rush into the vapor cloud-and almost immediately drop to their knees and begin to vomit across the flakboard. "Oh Dark Gods! I can taste it in my mouth! Oh God, it's like breathing raw sewage!" One gags, scratching at the flakboards and trying to crawl clear.
"Hrk! Can't-Breathe!" The other eloquently agrees.
The mutant stares at the rapidly dirtying flakboard and shakes its head. "Alas, dear Imperials, it seems I cannot present my message to you today! Perhaps another day, I can teach you just how much the gods love you." It says, before striding off into the maze of shacks, humming a wordless tune as it goes. Other cultists on the ground begin to turn and flee, firing off bursts in the general direction of the Sisters as they do. The cultists on the rooftops above, however, maintain a much more effective hail of fire. Round after round bounces off Sister Ilana's armor, their flattened remains raining to the ground at their feet as Ollanius tries to move behind her for cover. He is a moment too slow.

A laslock round fires, reflecting off the bare edge of Ilana's cuirass and burning away the meat along Ollanius' left leg. He staggers, stifling a cry, blackened bone visible through the charred flesh. A second shot strikes him in the chest with a blinding flash of light and heat. Smoke billows from the crater blasted in his flak vest, a river of molten carbifiber dripping down onto the pavement with a hiss. Still, Ollanius does not fall. Through gritted teeth, he snarls at the foe.
"I-I haven't come this far...to die that easily." He spits on the ground. "I'm Ollanius Black! There ain't no man or beast that can kill me, and if you thought otherwise you chickenshit bastards, you wouldn't be cowering up there!"

Zeitgeist Blue · Nov 23, 2018

"Of course I bleed," Eriko says, wincing as she deflects a bayonet thrust off the armour of her bleeding arm. "I am merely a woman, just a servant clad in faith and the gifts bestowed upon me."

She unclamps the chainsword from its mag-lock, watching as the gangers to her sides are overwhelmed in numbers, as cultists threaten to overrun her into the civilians behind her. She was the bulwark, the wall against the tide, but she alone could not hold them back forever. Not alone.

She had underestimated their resolve but if she could only push at the right place then they might run. Prince Zulanis, it called itself, and she eyed it warily from behind the revving teeth of her chainsword. They rallied around it like moths to a flame, emboldened as it burned hotter.

She could douse it.

"But I have seen what your false gods have wrought upon dozens of worlds," Eriko continues as if reciting a litany, steady in both words and a calm contrast to the mutant's bellows as she plows forward to meet this mutant prince in battle. "Hate eternal. The selfishness of excess. Descent into madness. A corpse's decay."

Their weapons meet in a shower of sparks, metal screeching. Only Eriko's off-hand gripped her chainsword, her wounded arm held tightly to her side, and she could not hold the lock for so long. Prince Zulanis was a head taller, bulkier, and he used that advantage, pushing down with his body and buckling Eriko. Her armour's joints joined her useless arm in screaming their protestations, but she bit through it and pulled back, pivoting to the left and away from the mutant before she sprang even closer.

"Worlds lost. Billions with fates worse than you can imagine." The mutant was ugly so close. She could see its serrated teeth, stained with its blood. Its beady eyes and leathery, pockmarked skin mere inches from her face. "You celebrate that and I know everything you just said is a sham. A self-serving lie."

"There is nothing in your death." She swings her sword with all her might. "Because your life is without honor." A feint then a pommel to the nose. "Your clan is without meaning."

She ground her teeth, a bit of anger spilling, like tea from a cup too full. Yet she continued her assault and her vision grew narrower, until all she could see was the Prince. "What do you really seek to die for then? For all creation to drown in suffering? For your family who glorified mad gods?"

"Tell me."

(OOC: WS 40 + All-Out Attack 20 + Hatred 10 + Fate 20 = TN 90

Proven 5. +1 Pen. +1 Dam.)

SirLagginton · Nov 24, 2018

Ilana stood a little taller, back a little straighter, the surety of bolt and death reasserting a comforting familiarity in the place of old terrors. It was only a old memory, one that could no longer had any hold over her.

It was a dead thing after all, that should've been buried with the rest of her family.

She shot a glare of hate as she saw the mutant scurry off into the distance, the craven nature of all who would turn away from the Emperor's light making itself manifest. She itched to end it right now, but she knew that her opportunity has passed. Another burst of sparks screeched as the plague beast's claws rebounded from Sister Maria's cuirass mere steps away from her. Ilana's duty would always be first and foremost to the living, this she had vowed to both order and self. Though she mourned for what was to come, she had already enough tragedy for one day.

Ilana spared a glance for the ganger boss, defiantly grinding his teeth on the rockcrete. Despite her initial misgivings, he had courage at least against the predations of the mutant and heretic. Maria was her Sister, and right now that was were her priorities laid. She hoped he would survive regardless however.

"I'm coming in from your right Sister Maria! Show that mutant that faith endures!"

OOC: Half move to the right of Maria. Introduce abomination to the joys of single-shot bolt fire.

Shephard · Nov 26, 2018

SirLagginton said:
Ilana stood a little taller, back a little straighter, the surety of bolt and death reasserting a comforting familiarity in the place of old terrors. It was only a old memory, one that could no longer had any hold over her.

It was a dead thing after all, that should've been buried with the rest of her family.

She shot a glare of hate as she saw the mutant scurry off into the distance, the craven nature of all who would turn away from the Emperor's light making itself manifest. She itched to end it right now, but she knew that her opportunity has passed. Another burst of sparks screeched as the plague beast's claws rebounded from Sister Maria's cuirass mere steps away from her. Ilana's duty would always be first and foremost to the living, this she had vowed to both order and self. Though she mourned for what was to come, she had already enough tragedy for one day.

Ilana spared a glance for the ganger boss, defiantly grinding his teeth on the rockcrete. Despite her initial misgivings, he had courage at least against the predations of the mutant and heretic. Maria was her Sister, and right now that was were her priorities laid. She hoped he would survive regardless however.

"I'm coming in from your right Sister Maria! Show that mutant that faith endures!"

OOC: Half move to the right of Maria. Introduce abomination to the joys of single-shot bolt fire.

Mina said:
@Shephard
I know I said I was going to post tonight, but the bus and some ongoing cat wrangling has made that hard to focus on so:

Quickdraw the combat knife and stab the hell of out of this monstrosity.

What follows is a confused melee in the midst of the miasma, the targeting systems on the two Sisters' helms struggling to lock onto the mutant filth. Runes flicker and snap about wildly before sullenly retreating into frustrated inaction. Claws whip past the two Sisters with shocking speed, only the last ditch leap back saving Illana from a pair of razor talons swinging toward her right arm pit. Maria's knife swings out, a perfectly aimed blow straight to the spine catching nothing but empty air, the creature's spine cracking and snapping hideously as it twists into a near 180 degree motion to avoid the blow. Rounds from Ollanius' pistol touch nothing but air as well, the gang lord stumbling toward cover as rounds worry the pavement around him. Ilana's first bolt shot is knocked aside by a swinging foot, the bolt round shrieking as it strikes against Maria's chest and ricochets off. It detonates in the air, showering her right side with shrapnel. The targeting runes on Ilana's armor flicker back on once more, servo muscles adjusting with an aggravated whine. Trusting the spirit of her armor, Ilana fires again and the round catches the monstrosity straight through the stomach. Lengths of steaming intestines splatter to the ground at the Sisters' feet, blood spurting from a hole blown through the abomination's chest large enough to easily fit an arm through. Its spine is visible.

The abomination cocks its head to the side, then shrugs its shoulders. In a flash of movement and vapors, it ducks back toward the water. A second, glancing bolt round rips away the thick meat of its right leg, shatters the bone and slices its right knee to ribbons, but the creature carries on with seemingly nary a care and slips back into the waters.

"Okay." Ollanius breathes from the shadow of a shack. "What the hell was that?" He asks, shaking his head. His only remaining bodyguard peeks his head around the corner.
"Looks like the cultists are runnin', boss! We did it!"
"Fantastic." Ollanius growls through gritted teeth. He slumps against the wall, staring at his oozing leg. "Ah...Skek me. That's probably going to need to come off."

Zeitgeist Blue said:
"Of course I bleed," Eriko says, wincing as she deflects a bayonet thrust off the armour of her bleeding arm. "I am merely a woman, just a servant clad in faith and the gifts bestowed upon me."

She unclamps the chainsword from its mag-lock, watching as the gangers to her sides are overwhelmed in numbers, as cultists threaten to overrun her into the civilians behind her. She was the bulwark, the wall against the tide, but she alone could not hold them back forever. Not alone.

She had underestimated their resolve but if she could only push at the right place then they might run. Prince Zulanis, it called itself, and she eyed it warily from behind the revving teeth of her chainsword. They rallied around it like moths to a flame, emboldened as it burned hotter.

She could douse it.

"But I have seen what your false gods have wrought upon dozens of worlds," Eriko continues as if reciting a litany, steady in both words and a calm contrast to the mutant's bellows as she plows forward to meet this mutant prince in battle. "Hate eternal. The selfishness of excess. Descent into madness. A corpse's decay."

Their weapons meet in a shower of sparks, metal screeching. Only Eriko's off-hand gripped her chainsword, her wounded arm held tightly to her side, and she could not hold the lock for so long. Prince Zulanis was a head taller, bulkier, and he used that advantage, pushing down with his body and buckling Eriko. Her armour's joints joined her useless arm in screaming their protestations, but she bit through it and pulled back, pivoting to the left and away from the mutant before she sprang even closer.

"Worlds lost. Billions with fates worse than you can imagine." The mutant was ugly so close. She could see its serrated teeth, stained with its blood. Its beady eyes and leathery, pockmarked skin mere inches from her face. "You celebrate that and I know everything you just said is a sham. A self-serving lie."

"There is nothing in your death." She swings her sword with all her might. "Because your life is without honor." A feint then a pommel to the nose. "Your clan is without meaning."

She ground her teeth, a bit of anger spilling, like tea from a cup too full. Yet she continued her assault and her vision grew narrower, until all she could see was the Prince. "What do you really seek to die for then? For all creation to drown in suffering? For your family who glorified mad gods?"

"Tell me."

(OOC: WS 40 + All-Out Attack 20 + Hatred 10 + Fate 20 = TN 90

Proven 5. +1 Pen. +1 Dam.)

The mutant's face sours. At first it seems in anger, but then it becomes something more surprising: Confusion.

."Tell you what? That you're yammering on about nonsense?" The creature snarls, ducking back from the pommel before nearly taking the Sister's head off with a blow to the neck. "You call my gods mad, but do you even hear yourself? You condemn my people for worlds I've never heard of! That we deserve to burn for some 'unimaginable' fate billions of people we never knew suffered! Not even something sane, like 'Your God hates ours'!" The creature laughs, a high, bewildered noise. "Why would I want creation to drown in suffering? I live in creation. You can't even name specifics. Do you even know what you're talking about, or are you just repeating what a priest once told you, and badly at that?" It scoffs. "You're like the damned dead man with their songs to their dead god, with their arrogance and speaking of ways beyond our ken. But no, you caught me, I don't want revenge or anything! No, the real reason?" It leans forward, trying to drive the chainaxe into Eriko's chest. "Because your Emperor doesn't have a beard. What kind of god doesn't have a beard? I've decided to kill you because your gods are pathetic beardless boy-gods." Its eyes roll, nearly giving Eriko the chance to cut open its thigh before it parries the hit.

Chainblades catch against one another, drawing a spray of sparks. A cultist stabs a crowbar into Eriko's knee, trying to lock the joint. From behind the Sister hears Palais cry out, stomping down the flakboard. The mutant's eyes narrow. "What do I seek to die for? For my sister, who exploded. I saw her head bounce along the boardwalk like a children's ball. For my cousin Averyrn, who left a trail of his own entrails along the waterline, whimpering like a dog as he died. For my father, who I saw burn, saw him try so hard, so hard not to scream even as the fat melted from his body." Oily, black tears run down the mutant's distorted features. "If I want anything to drown in suffering it is your miserable Imperium! I haven't seen worlds suffer, godspawn, but I have seen Dreverarch! I have seen you bring fire and death to the tribes that defy you! I have seen your enforcers fire upon the starving and sick! I have seen you brand and execute your own people for being born different! I've seen your people slave in their factorums, beaten and mutilated until they're no longer useful before being cast out to starve on the streets! If this is what you call purity, than let all embrace corruption!"

He strikes, hard and fast, the chainaxe whipping at Eriko's neck. She swings simultaneously. Her blade lands first, biting through primitive scale armor, through thick hide and meat. The chainsword howls as it carves through bone. The monster's arm tears off with a spray of black blood, the creature's pained stumble sending the chainaxe flying off the roof. A moment later, Palais slams into the cultist holding down Eriko's leg, slicing him in twain with a single stroke. Eriko attempts to drive the chainsword through the mutant's chest, but the blades jam, dulled by thick bone and hide and choked with gore.

The 'prince' staggers back, blood spurting from its wound, even as he presses his remaining meaty hand against the wound. He smiles, sadly. "I am not the last. The fall beckons and old night cometh." It falls to its knees, bloodflow beginning to flow. "I'm coming home..." With a last resounding groan, it slumps to the ground, unconscious.

Behind, the cultists scatter screaming into the nest of shanties, chased by the gangers' weapon fire. Palais places a hand on Eriko's pauldron. "Sorry for the late arrival, but it looks like you had everything..." She prods the mutant's severed leg. She swears she can hear the Sister-Superior smiling behind her helmet. "...Well in hand."

The last of the cultists rapidly break into the maze of tenement houses and shacks. In the confusion of the route, several large explosions are heard causing the highway to shake slightly. It takes several minutes before the cause is determined to be a failed attempt by cultist saboteurs to blow the highway's supports. Unfortunately for the heretics, the highway was built to hold up to even the weight of superheavy transports, and the improvised mining charges failed to make a dent. Even a dedicated sapper division would take days before they could deal serious damage. Still, it again shows the heretics' cunning and coordination. They attempted to pen you in with their superior numbers, and then collapse the very highway you fought upon. The charges laid were clearly not amateur work either, but professionally made, even if from civilian grade materials.

"Thank the Emperor the construction crews knew their work for once." Liandra grunts. "Imagine trying to fight in the swamp."

Bodies are everywhere. The gangers suffered some heavy casualties, but their mood is high in the aftermath of the battle and there are more than enough left to hold the checkpoint. They strip their dead clean quickly, and begin to celebrate over piles of burning heretics, many making sure to take pictures of themselves near the Sororitas and proclaiming themselves 'holy warriors' to any that will listen. Civilian casualties prove much higher. Many died from the hands of cultists or the maddened civilians, others in the panic from one another or the ganger's fire. Some of the civilians even assisted the Sisters in their holy work, often at no small cost. Among them were many of those infected by the Black Rot, who threw their diseased bodies against the madmen and were torn down by blade and shot in exchange. Some were slain by gangers when they attempted to seek shelter, a decision which none of the Sister-Superiors find fault with. Several of the casualties were at the hands of the House Merud guardsmen, who opened fire on the crowd during the confusion. Luckily, few were seriously hurt, the Battle-Sisters of Squad Selveria having thrown themselves in the way of the fire before deescalating the situation. A moment less haste and it would have been a bloodbath as rioting civilians met the House Merud Guildsmen. Sister-Superior Selveria praises on civilian in particular, a priest who managed to calm the crowd with his words even after his leg was torn apart by a shotgun blast. For their part, the House Merud Guildsmen deny any fault and hastily make off once their trucks are done being repaired.

Rumors of Ollanius Black's death end swiftly as the badly hurt gang-lord limps back to the checkpoint, before cracking open a bottle of rot-gut and emptying it in a single long swig. Shattering the bottle against the ground, he turns to the Sisters. "I'll give Kristold a holler. Need to set up augmetic replacements for the boys with him anyway. No promises he'll answer, though. We're acquaintances, nothing more." He says with a grimace before turning back to his men. "Make sure to account for every dead cultist! I ain't missing out on the bounty for them."

The box of lasguns is retrieved from the swamp not long after. The weapons beneath the muck appear new, but each has been scarred with dark sigils that hurt the eyes to look upon. They appear to be standard Ultima-Velorum Pattern, probably from a factorum on either Treyin or Almium-Magna judging by the maker marks. Squad Selveria agrees to return it to safe hands, along with the prisoners taken. A brief inspection of the captured heretics shows most to be natives, mostly humans with some mutants or abhumans among their ranks. Some appear to be tribesmen, marked with strange tattoos and who speak in foreign tongues. Only a handful appear to be infected by the Black Rot, and only relatively early cases, those. Of those heretics that do not manage to kill themselves or die of their wounds, some plead or beg for mercy, but others spit abuse and heresies before they are gagged.

Or burn on the stakes that the Sororitas and civilian crowds are more than happy to erect. It is not long at all until plumes of smoke halo the sun above and the screams of heretics echo through the streets.

Zeitgeist Blue · Nov 27, 2018

Eriko chuckled even as she groaned inwardly. There was an attempt at least and she nodded to Palais in appreciation. "Regardless, thank you for your assistance, Sister-Superior. Matters would have been more uncomfortable than they already are."

She allows herself to wince as a cramping pain shoots through her arm and leg in waves. Likely the pain suppressants at work. She brought up the runes monitoring the squad's health and noted that hers was the one flashing the most, reflecting that she was the most injured. She could study it further to assess her situation more, but it was not a pressing matter and she banished the runes, then added an extra dose of Morphia for good measure.

"I would suggest the mutant be taken prisoner," Eriko says, getting back to work. "It considered itself a champion among the heretics and may yet know some vital information. Though precautions need to be made," and she pointed out the limb stumps of the mutant where the blood had stopped flowing. "I know little about inhuman physiology but at a guess it possesses unnatural regeneration and there is no telling when it will regain consciousness. Sooner rather than later based on how its wounds are already healing."

***

"Ollanius." Eriko greets the ganger boss with a slight bow of his head. "I hear you plan to contact your Kristold. Do not forget what we have talked about. If he acts the way you have today and shows the same courage needed to fight alongside us then perhaps we can end this unrest, at least as long as this Cult of Old Night remains. A common enemy does wonders in creating unity within a people." Eriko holds up an armoured finger as if to keep Ollanius listening for a bit longer. "And make no mistake, all of you in this city together are the same people."

***

Eriko is unperturbed by the burning heretics as she rallied at the Viatorem's side. Her hands were unsullied with the handling of bodies as she had helped erect the stakes. Death by fire was a good death for heretics, purifying their physical bodies even if their spirits could never be cleansed.

But one did not have the time to listen to dying screams and drink noon tea when the Schechin Market waited for them.

Mina · Nov 27, 2018

Shephard said:
The box of lasguns is retrieved from the swamp not long after. The weapons beneath the muck appear new, but each has been scarred with dark sigils that hurt the eyes to look upon. They appear to be standard Ultima-Velorum Pattern, probably from a factorum on either Treyin or Almium-Magna judging by the maker marks. Squad Selveria agrees to return it to safe hands, along with the prisoners taken. A brief inspection of the captured heretics shows most to be natives, mostly humans with some mutants or abhumans among their ranks. Some appear to be tribesmen, marked with strange tattoos and who speak in foreign tongues. Only a handful appear to be infected by the Black Rot, and only relatively early cases, those. Of those heretics that do not manage to kill themselves or die of their wounds, some plead or beg for mercy, but others spit abuse and heresies before they are gagged.

Maria had stayed by the muck's edge until her task was completed. In the last heated moments of the engagement she'd unleashed a barrage of withering fire in to the swamp after the foulness that had marred her armor, but it was long gone. All that remained was the lingering haze in of unclean vapor, the sting in her leg, and the myriad sounds of battle winding down. She nodded to the sisters of Squad Selveria as they carried off the tainted weaponry, but hung back.

The woman, the martyr, poor terrified creature lay where she'd been felled. Where Maria had felled her. The retributor let her heavy bolter drop to the deck, then released the seals on her helmet, removed it and sank to her knees. As tenderly as armored gauntlets could manage she tucked the charred ribbons left of the woman's legs together, and did her best to give the corpse a semblance of peaceful repose.

"If any have her name, I would know it," she called. Chain clinked on ceramite as she raised a vial with a dark dust at its bottom to her pale lips and bowed her head.

"The Emperor is at your right hand
he will crush the vile on the day of his wrath.
He will judge the betrayers, heaping up the dead
and crushing the despoilers of the whole land.
He will drink from pure waters along the way,
and so he will lift his head high."

greendoor · Nov 29, 2018

Caelia let her whip fall as silence fell over the battlefield. Victory over the eternal enemy-it should feel triumphant, even if she had not participated directly in the death of more than a pittance of the heretics. Her gaze fell over the trio of those she had slain with her hurried fire-cultists of the dark gods who haunted the nightmares of all sensible people.

But still, she felt unsatisfied-these were mere. Scum with aspirations of harming their betters-and they had died like it. it hardly felt like a victory to slaughter them-especially when so many more deserving lives had been snuffed out in exchange for their pitiful souls. Not even the slaughter seemed much an accomplishment-the schola had taught there would always be more fools to throw themselves before the arms of the faithful.

However, she looked over the few citizens who been struck down by her whip, groaning on the ground in pain. Better than dead-better than what hell awaited those who found a witch's ire. She allowed herself a small smile. Small victories-better than a defeat at least.

With that thought, she turned to assist in dragging the bodies to pyres.

SirLagginton · Nov 30, 2018

Mina said:
Maria had stayed by the muck's edge until her task was completed. In the last heated moments of the engagement she'd unleashed a barrage of withering fire in to the swamp after the foulness that had marred her armor, but it was long gone. All that remained was the lingering haze in of unclean vapor, the sting in her leg, and the myriad sounds of battle winding down. She nodded to the sisters of Squad Selveria as they carried off the tainted weaponry, but hung back.

The woman, the martyr, poor terrified creature lay where she'd been felled. Where Maria had felled her. The retributor let her heavy bolter drop to the deck, then released the seals on her helmet, removed it and sank to her knees. As tenderly as armored gauntlets could manage she tucked the charred ribbons left of the woman's legs together, and did her best to give the corpse a semblance of peaceful repose.

"If any have her name, I would know it," she called. Chain clinked on ceramite as she raised a vial with a dark dust at its bottom to her pale lips and bowed her head.

"The Emperor is at your right hand
he will crush the vile on the day of his wrath.
He will judge the betrayers, heaping up the dead
and crushing the despoilers of the whole land.
He will drink from pure waters along the way,
and so he will lift his head high."

Ilana looked solemnly at the display, finally looking away as the final, familiar notes left her lips. She could read the context as well as anyone, could see the grevious results of bolt damage on what remained of an innocent civillian. While she could understand the circumstances that led to Maria acting as she did, it was something that discomforted her regardless, the specter of the thought that the woman died needlessly haunting her. The consequences of that decision would ultimately be Maria's burden to bear, but Ilana wondered if that woman would appear alongside so many others in those dark nights.

And so she settled for going on her knees to pray, pray that the Emperor would smile on those innocent lost souls, pray for the families that had lost loved ones at the hands of the heretic, and pray most of all that their martyrdom would not be in vain. All men died under the gaze of the Immortal Emperor, true worth was judged only when they faced Him on the Golden Throne.

Shephard said:
The box of lasguns is retrieved from the swamp not long after. The weapons beneath the muck appear new, but each has been scarred with dark sigils that hurt the eyes to look upon. They appear to be standard Ultima-Velorum Pattern, probably from a factorum on either Treyin or Almium-Magna judging by the maker marks. Squad Selveria agrees to return it to safe hands, along with the prisoners taken.

Ilana growled, the sight of once-noble machines profaned so sending shudders of revulsion down her spin. Reigning herself from a rage at the sight of the symbols of the Archenemy, she turned to the limping gang-lord, trying to keep herself from being too on edge at the blatant reminder of Chaos' presence. "You have done the Imperium a service by executing the wielders of these profaned machines and keeping them from ignoble hands. We'll be taking custody of these defiled arms, and we will notify the Arbitrators of your service." She paused and gave a stiff nod of acknowledgement. "I admit you've surprised me Black. I would not think gangers to be likely allies, but it seems that faith can be found in all men regardless. Your profession is disagreeable, but I wish you luck regardless." Ilana gave a sidealong glance at the crowd and her voice hardened. "And do try to avoid wasting your goodwill by further extorting these civilians."

Shephard · Dec 1, 2018

Zeitgeist Blue said:
Eriko chuckled even as she groaned inwardly. There was an attempt at least and she nodded to Palais in appreciation. "Regardless, thank you for your assistance, Sister-Superior. Matters would have been more uncomfortable than they already are."

She allows herself to wince as a cramping pain shoots through her arm and leg in waves. Likely the pain suppressants at work. She brought up the runes monitoring the squad's health and noted that hers was the one flashing the most, reflecting that she was the most injured. She could study it further to assess her situation more, but it was not a pressing matter and she banished the runes, then added an extra dose of Morphia for good measure.

"I would suggest the mutant be taken prisoner," Eriko says, getting back to work. "It considered itself a champion among the heretics and may yet know some vital information. Though precautions need to be made," and she pointed out the limb stumps of the mutant where the blood had stopped flowing. "I know little about inhuman physiology but at a guess it possesses unnatural regeneration and there is no telling when it will regain consciousness. Sooner rather than later based on how its wounds are already healing."

"I'll let Sister Selveria decide on that." Palais replied. "Her squad'll be splitting off shortly, and they'll be in a better place to handle prisoner transport than we will. They might not have room for this big lunk of lard." She pokes the mutant with the end of her boot. "Not the ugliest I've seen, but close. Not from the city, I think." She pokes the tribal fetishes that line its useless armor of iron scales-incapable of even stopping a pistol round. "Though that begs the question of how it got into the city, and how long its been here."

Mina said:
Maria had stayed by the muck's edge until her task was completed. In the last heated moments of the engagement she'd unleashed a barrage of withering fire in to the swamp after the foulness that had marred her armor, but it was long gone. All that remained was the lingering haze in of unclean vapor, the sting in her leg, and the myriad sounds of battle winding down. She nodded to the sisters of Squad Selveria as they carried off the tainted weaponry, but hung back.

The woman, the martyr, poor terrified creature lay where she'd been felled. Where Maria had felled her. The retributor let her heavy bolter drop to the deck, then released the seals on her helmet, removed it and sank to her knees. As tenderly as armored gauntlets could manage she tucked the charred ribbons left of the woman's legs together, and did her best to give the corpse a semblance of peaceful repose.

"If any have her name, I would know it," she called. Chain clinked on ceramite as she raised a vial with a dark dust at its bottom to her pale lips and bowed her head.

"The Emperor is at your right hand
he will crush the vile on the day of his wrath.
He will judge the betrayers, heaping up the dead
and crushing the despoilers of the whole land.
He will drink from pure waters along the way,
and so he will lift his head high."

Boltguns are ugly weapons, chosen in no small part for the purpose of delivering an ugly end to the Emperor's enemies. The woman's corpse is brutalized. Her legs are shredded stumps, what little remains unrecognizable chunks of meat and bone intermixed with the occasional stray piece of tattered cloth and it proves impossible to tell it from the gore of the cultist that died with her. The rest of her body was not spared the horror. Little holes pock mark her upper body, dried blood oozing from the countless wounds where shrapnel tore through her body. The white aquila symbol stamped on her shirt is tattered and stained scarlet with blood. Her eyes are wide and glassy, her jaw twisted at an angle of fear and pain.

Silence falls over the small crown of surviving civilians peering from the windows and doors. Eyes turn away, some fidget. A few weep or mutter among themselves. Finally, an old man, eyes shadowed and hands thickly calloused, steps forward. He bows, low and painfully, to the dirt.

"Her name was Domincia, milady. I am her father." The man says. Alicia Domincia you recall from your lessons, she who turned against Vandire, bearer of the Grail of Ages. He does not weep, nor turn his eyes away from the corpse, even as some of the crowd rest their hands on his back. "With your permission, holy one, I would take her body. I-I have already lost a son to the Black Rot, and the mass graves. I would ask she be given the proper rites."

greendoor said:
Caelia let her whip fall as silence fell over the battlefield. Victory over the eternal enemy-it should feel triumphant, even if she had not participated directly in the death of more than a pittance of the heretics. Her gaze fell over the trio of those she had slain with her hurried fire-cultists of the dark gods who haunted the nightmares of all sensible people.

But still, she felt unsatisfied-these were mere. Scum with aspirations of harming their betters-and they had died like it. it hardly felt like a victory to slaughter them-especially when so many more deserving lives had been snuffed out in exchange for their pitiful souls. Not even the slaughter seemed much an accomplishment-the schola had taught there would always be more fools to throw themselves before the arms of the faithful.

However, she looked over the few citizens who been struck down by her whip, groaning on the ground in pain. Better than dead-better than what hell awaited those who found a witch's ire. She allowed herself a small smile. Small victories-better than a defeat at least.

With that thought, she turned to assist in dragging the bodies to pyres.

Smoke rises in billowing clouds from the pyres. Civilians and gangers alike jeer and shout abuse at the heretics as they are strapped to their dooms, and many are eager to help with assembling the materials. Cheers rise up as each fire is set, the screams of the roasting heretics drowned out by the audible violence of the crowd. Some of the crowd even have to be restrained as they throw trash or waste at the roasting heretics, so to ensure the deaths are not made swifter. The heckling continues unabated, families from the surrounding areas drawn in by the spectacle.

"That's for my sister, you skekking bastards!"
"Kill the Heretic! Burn the mutant! Slay the unclean!"
"Burn, you bastards!"
"Throne, I love a good burning!"

Some of the Heretics attempt defiance, but in the end, fire purifies even the most wicked of souls. Ash begins to settle along the corners of the road, and it is not long before some of the locals begin to gather up the ashes as some sort of good luck charm or another.

Far from the crowds upon a ruined building, those brought low by the Witch's magics kneel before Palais and Derosa. Prayers are said over them, holy water sprinkled upon their bodies, candles lit. Palais speaks with each in turn, going from one to the next. Most, including several of those you brought low with your shock whip, she leaves be with a final benediction. Others, she puts the point of her gladius blade through their hearts, and pours out the holy oils over their fallen corpses.

In time, a pair of Sisters from Squad Selveria arrive to escort those who remain away. Palais and Derosa return not long after, Palais striding through the crowd to meet with you. She nods her head at you.
"Caelia. I wanted to thank you, for staying back and doing what you could to preserve lives. By Leanna's grace, several live that otherwise would not because of you." She says, her voice low. She turns her gaze to the flames, her eyes reflecting their warmth. "We'll be leaving the rest of clean up to the locals. We've gotten some vox-chatter about a lot of activity about the market. Cult's not resting easy." She glances through the billowing smoke into the sky above. Dark clouds on the horizon. "Rain tonight. Hope you're ready for some of Dreverarch's famous weather."

SirLagginton said:
Ilana growled, the sight of once-noble machines profaned so sending shudders of revulsion down her spin. Reigning herself from a rage at the sight of the symbols of the Archenemy, she turned to the limping gang-lord, trying to keep herself from being too on edge at the blatant reminder of Chaos' presence. "You have done the Imperium a service by executing the wielders of these profaned machines and keeping them from ignoble hands. We'll be taking custody of these defiled arms, and we will notify the Arbitrators of your service." She paused and gave a stiff nod of acknowledgement. "I admit you've surprised me Black. I would not think gangers to be likely allies, but it seems that faith can be found in all men. Your profession is disagreeable, but I wish you luck regardless." Ilana gave a sidealong glance at the crowd and her voice hardened. "And do try to avoid wasting your goodwill by further extorting these civilians."

"Oh no, no need to tell the Arbites. I don't need any recognition of my deeds, Sister. I will gladly labor without recognition." It is hard to tell with the pain in his voice, but you're pretty sure he's joking. He shakes his head, wincing as he leans against a truck. "This has been a right mess, but damn if it wasn't impressive to watch. I heard the legends, but to see it in action is something else." He takes a breath. "I know Him upon Terra is watching, but I ain't got half th' faith of your average gutter rat. Every time I go to the temple, the first people I see in the door are sell-swords and hitmen and drug runners and other scum. Maybe those closest to the grave are the ones looking closer to what comes after this life. Maybe the lawless seek peace in the Emperor's rules. Maybe the sinners just want to try and appease our lord upon the Golden Throne."

He shakes his head, muttering an apology as he pulls a chem-stick from his pocket. "Maybe I'm an idiot waxing philosophical because my leg just about got blown off." He shrugs his shoulders. "I won't need to extort anyone now. It'll be called holy ground 'cause you fought here. Probably be people setting up a shrine by tomorrow and calling us holy warriors. Might even be able to swing it as Frateris Militia. Gotta be careful, though. Don't want to get any loudmouths like that priest trying to join up!" He chuckles.

He grimaces again, trying to light the chem. "Shit, I'm being too friendly for my station. It's the pain, is all. Emperor bless, and thanks for the help, Sister."

Zeitgeist Blue said:
"Ollanius." Eriko greets the ganger boss with a slight bow of his head. "I hear you plan to contact your Kristold. Do not forget what we have talked about. If he acts the way you have today and shows the same courage needed to fight alongside us then perhaps we can end this unrest, at least as long as this Cult of Old Night remains. A common enemy does wonders in creating unity within a people." Eriko holds up an armoured finger as if to keep Ollanius listening for a bit longer. "And make no mistake, all of you in this city together are the same people."

Ollanius, leaning against the back of a rusted junker and smoking what you believe to be an obscura stick, peers at you with nervous eyes. "Look, I told you before, Kristold does what Kristold wants, and what Kristold wants is things beyond me. I mean, things are the way they'll always be. Kristold doesn't get that. He wants change, and that's a dangerous thing. He sees assassins around every corner, and violence as his only in. And he's not a normal person, even ignoring that. He's one of them Machine-Whisperers." The gang-lord's voice grows low and reverent, almost fearful. "He knows the old magics of steel and promethium, how to tame the little gods of the machine. I've never seen anyone not wearing the red robes who could get the lumen sprites to dance like he could, banish the gremlins that infest the engine as swift as he. Some say he is the Machine-God's voice made manifest, sent to cast down those who have failed it." He shakes his head at that. "Idiots, them. But still. He's not like me, Sister. I'll see what I can do, but if he meets with you, it's going to be on his terms. And I'll warn you, he is not a trusting man."

He takes a deep of the obscura, his eyes flushing with the tell tale signs of the chems. You suspect a reduced dose, however. Pain relief, rather than enjoyment. Blowing out a plume of smoke, he speaks. "I won't disagree with one as holy as you, but a lot of people may not agree with your assessment, Sister. Everyone wants something different 'specially those gilled freaks, and this unrest isn't going to end with the Cult of Old Night I don't think. But maybe I'm wrong. Maybe we just need a reminder of the Emperor's might." He nods at you.

Mina · Dec 1, 2018

Shephard said:
Silence falls over the small crown of surviving civilians peering from the windows and doors. Eyes turn away, some fidget. A few weep or mutter among themselves. Finally, an old man, eyes shadowed and hands thickly calloused, steps forward. He bows, low and painfully, to the dirt.

"Her name was Domincia, milady. I am her father." The man says. Alicia Domincia you recall from your lessons, she who turned against Vandire, bearer of the Grail of Ages. He does not weep, nor turn his eyes away from the corpse, even as some of the crowd rest their hands on his back. "With your permission, holy one, I would take her body. I-I have already lost a son to the Black Rot, and the mass graves. I would ask she be given the proper rites."

She was inured to the sight of her own work. Maria saw the horror she must have felt once reflected in those many watchful eyes, but not his. Not her father's. Dominica.

"Saint's blessing. I would not dream of intruding any more upon you." She stood up, making the sign of the aquila over the corpse. "She will be in my prayers, as with you. We will remember Dominica."

Maria kissed the vial of ash one more time before trading charm for her boltgun. Her leg twinged as she turned to go, but thankfully servo-muscle cared not for such complaints. She should have Eriko look at where the creature touched, lest some foulness persist.

Glancing back over her shoulder as she made her way back up to the squad, Maria watched the man in flashes. She lacked that easy grace and way with folk, and never much cared in any case. Here she wished she had the words to know more, see what people he might have, who else would weep for Dominica but...it sounded as if he was alone now. Clanless. That chilled her heart.

Shephard said:
He takes a deep of the obscura, his eyes flushing with the tell tale signs of the chems. You suspect a reduced dose, however. Pain relief, rather than enjoyment. Blowing out a plume of smoke, he speaks. "I won't disagree with one as holy as you, but a lot of people may not agree with your assessment, Sister. Everyone wants something different 'specially those gilled freaks, and this unrest isn't going to end with the Cult of Old Night I don't think. But maybe I'm wrong. Maybe we just need a reminder of the Emperor's might." He nods at you.

@Zeitgeist Blue

Maria returned bareheaded and on a mission.

Ollanius recieved a hearty pat on the shoulder and brusque "Well fought," as the retributor passed.

Eriko got a double barreled glare, Maria's odd pink eyes narrowed with effort. "Sister Eriko...would you assist me before we depart?"

greendoor · Dec 1, 2018

Shephard said:
In time, a pair of Sisters from Squad Selveria arrive to escort those who remain away. Palais and Derosa return not long after, Palais striding through the crowd to meet with you. She nods her head at you.
"Caelia. I wanted to thank you, for staying back and doing what you could to preserve lives. By Leanna's grace, several live that otherwise would not because of you." She says, her voice low. She turns her gaze to the flames, her eyes reflecting their warmth.

Caelia turns from staring into the flames to her Sister Superior. She nods-"I...must confess Sister Superior. I had thoughts of joining the fray-it seemed more glorious or befitting my skills to slay the enemy. I can only thank the Emperor that I made the right choice...I was the only one here with the right arms for this."

Shephard said:
"We'll be leaving the rest of clean up to the locals. We've gotten some vox-chatter about a lot of activity about the market. Cult's not resting easy." She glances through the billowing smoke into the sky above. Dark clouds on the horizon. "Rain tonight. Hope you're ready for some of Dreverarch's famous weather."

"It's why i'm wearing this." Caelia raps an armored knuckle against her imposing war helm. She adds, lightly "Perhaps I will get a chance to catch up with Sister Pia's purge count-she could be from a rival house for all I know!"

SirLagginton · Dec 1, 2018

Shephard said:
"Oh no, no need to tell the Arbites. I don't need any recognition of my deeds, Sister. I will gladly labor without recognition." It is hard to tell with the pain in his voice, but you're pretty sure he's joking. He shakes his head, wincing as he leans against a truck. "This has been a right mess, but damn if it wasn't impressive to watch. I heard the legends, but to see it in action is something else." He takes a breath. "I know Him upon Terra is watching, but I ain't got half th' faith of your average gutter rat. Every time I go to the temple, the first people I see in the door are sell-swords and hitmen and drug runners and other scum. Maybe those closest to the grave are the ones looking closer to what comes after this life. Maybe the lawless seek peace in the Emperor's rules. Maybe the sinners just want to try and appease our lord upon the Golden Throne."

He shakes his head, muttering an apology as he pulls a chem-stick from his pocket. "Maybe I'm an idiot waxing philosophical because my leg just about got blown off." He shrugs his shoulders. "I won't need to extort anyone now. It'll be called holy ground 'cause you fought here. Probably be people setting up a shrine by tomorrow and calling us holy warriors. Might even be able to swing it as Frateris Militia. Gotta be careful, though. Don't want to get any loudmouths like that priest trying to join up!" He chuckles.

He grimaces again, trying to light the chem. "Shit, I'm being too friendly for my station. It's the pain, is all. Emperor bless, and thanks for the help, Sister."

"You fought with courage and faith in your heart, for these virtues I will excuse you from your most henious crime." Ilana reponded dryly. "You shall avoid the pyre this time. Yet...yes, it makes sense that those who walk hand in hand with death would keep Him closest to their hearts. I will keep that in mind, thank you."

Mina said:
@Zeitgeist Blue

Maria returned bareheaded and on a mission.

Ollanius recieved a hearty pat on the shoulder and brusque "Well fought," as the retributor passed.

Eriko got a double barreled glare, Maria's odd pink eyes narrowed with effort. "Sister Eriko...would you assist me before we depart?"

Ilana looked between the two, let out an unseen sigh and waved them onward. Eriko certainly mined untold depths of dislike with her brusque manner, but Ilana had not missed Maria's outright animosity to her. That tension was bound to let loose sooner or later, though they were professional enough that Ilana believed that it would be in a convent rather than the battlefield. "I believe that Maria may have been wounded in the battle with those mutant abominations. Fear not, I will tend to matters here, it is better that any injuries be seen to sooner rather than later."

Shephard said:
Ollanius, leaning against the back of a rusted junker and smoking what you believe to be an obscura stick, peers at you with nervous eyes. "Look, I told you before, Kristold does what Kristold wants, and what Kristold wants is things beyond me. I mean, things are the way they'll always be. Kristold doesn't get that. He wants change, and that's a dangerous thing. He sees assassins around every corner, and violence as his only in. And he's not a normal person, even ignoring that. He's one of them Machine-Whisperers." The gang-lord's voice grows low and reverent, almost fearful. "He knows the old magics of steel and promethium, how to tame the little gods of the machine. I've never seen anyone not wearing the red robes who could get the lumen sprites to dance like he could, banish the gremlins that infest the engine as swift as he. Some say he is the Machine-God's voice made manifest, sent to cast down those who have failed it." He shakes his head at that. "Idiots, them. But still. He's not like me, Sister. I'll see what I can do, but if he meets with you, it's going to be on his terms. And I'll warn you, he is not a trusting man."

He takes a deep of the obscura, his eyes flushing with the tell tale signs of the chems. You suspect a reduced dose, however. Pain relief, rather than enjoyment. Blowing out a plume of smoke, he speaks. "I won't disagree with one as holy as you, but a lot of people may not agree with your assessment, Sister. Everyone wants something different 'specially those gilled freaks, and this unrest isn't going to end with the Cult of Old Night I don't think. But maybe I'm wrong. Maybe we just need a reminder of the Emperor's might." He nods at you.

"If Kristold truly wishes for change then his aims would be best served by talking to those with the authority to enact such. We do not claim to directly possess such authority, but you and I both know that we have their ear regardless. Thank you for your cooperation." Ilana paused before continuing on with a wry smile. "In return I will make a note to avoid informing the Arbitrators."

Zeitgeist Blue · Dec 1, 2018

Shephard said:
"I'll let Sister Selveria decide on that." Palais replied. "Her squad'll be splitting off shortly, and they'll be in a better place to handle prisoner transport than we will. They might not have room for this big lunk of lard." She pokes the mutant with the end of her boot. "Not the ugliest I've seen, but close. Not from the city, I think." She pokes the tribal fetishes that line its useless armor of iron scales-incapable of even stopping a pistol round. "Though that begs the question of how it got into the city, and how long its been here."

Eriko nods, placing her hands on her hips. "Sounds like a the Arbites are well versed for. Though who knows, our sisters may just learn everything just from talking to it." She shrugs her shoulders and she looked to the side to where Squad Selveria last reported in. "I found it chattier than a nervous Schola student in an oral defence."

Shephard said:
Ollanius, leaning against the back of a rusted junker and smoking what you believe to be an obscura stick, peers at you with nervous eyes. "Look, I told you before, Kristold does what Kristold wants, and what Kristold wants is things beyond me. I mean, things are the way they'll always be. Kristold doesn't get that. He wants change, and that's a dangerous thing. He sees assassins around every corner, and violence as his only in. And he's not a normal person, even ignoring that. He's one of them Machine-Whisperers." The gang-lord's voice grows low and reverent, almost fearful. "He knows the old magics of steel and promethium, how to tame the little gods of the machine. I've never seen anyone not wearing the red robes who could get the lumen sprites to dance like he could, banish the gremlins that infest the engine as swift as he. Some say he is the Machine-God's voice made manifest, sent to cast down those who have failed it." He shakes his head at that. "Idiots, them. But still. He's not like me, Sister. I'll see what I can do, but if he meets with you, it's going to be on his terms. And I'll warn you, he is not a trusting man."

He takes a deep of the obscura, his eyes flushing with the tell tale signs of the chems. You suspect a reduced dose, however. Pain relief, rather than enjoyment. Blowing out a plume of smoke, he speaks. "I won't disagree with one as holy as you, but a lot of people may not agree with your assessment, Sister. Everyone wants something different 'specially those gilled freaks, and this unrest isn't going to end with the Cult of Old Night I don't think. But maybe I'm wrong. Maybe we just need a reminder of the Emperor's might." He nods at you.

SirLagginton said:
"If Kristold truly wishes for change then his aims would be best served by talking to those with the authority to enact such. We do not claim to directly possess such authority, but you and he both know that we have their ear. Thank you for your cooperation regardless." Ilana paused before continuing on with a wry smile. "In return I will make a note to avoid informing the Arbitrators."

"And thank you for your input as well," Eriko says after Sister Ilana.

She watches him smoke for a while before she takes of her helmet. With a hiss of steam her head was free, red hair damp with sweat. "We too shall do what we can. And with the Emperor's blessing we may yet be able to chip at the unrest, even a little."

Mina said:
@Zeitgeist Blue

Maria returned bareheaded and on a mission.

Ollanius recieved a hearty pat on the shoulder and brusque "Well fought," as the retributor passed.

Eriko got a double barreled glare, Maria's odd pink eyes narrowed with effort. "Sister Eriko...would you assist me before we depart?"

SirLagginton said:
Ilana looked between the two and let out an unseen sigh and waved them onward. Eriko certainly mined untold depths of dislike with her brusque manner, but Ilana had not missed Maria's outright animosity to her. That tension was bound to let loose sooner or later, though they were professional enough that Ilana believed that it would be in a convent rather than the battlefield. "I believe that Maria may have been wounded in the battle with those mutant abominations. Fear not, I will tend to matters here, it is better that any injuries be seen to sooner than later."

Eriko averts her eyes with a small sigh before she set her helmet back in place. She brought up the runes, studied them, saw the poison running through Maria's calf, and only then spoke. "Of course, Sister Maria."

There were questions that needed asking. Perhaps her fellow veteran sister could prove a font of answers, but that did not change the fact that Maria was still distateful.

"Sister Ilana. Black." Erikos said before moving to the side of the truck where there was a modicum of privacy.

"Please sit," Eriko said as her instruments slid into place with a clack. There was no need for rudeness after all, not in a public venue anyway.

(OOC: Use Diagnosticator when using Diagnose on Maria. Then use Panimune if necessary to suppress the toxin.

+20 Medicae to Diagnose. +20 Toughness)

Cornuthaum · Dec 1, 2018

Shephard said:
Or burn on the stakes that the Sororitas and civilian crowds are more than happy to erect. It is not long at all until plumes of smoke halo the sun above and the screams of heretics echo through the streets.

It's always a good day when you get to do what you love doing most. Pia thanks the God-Emperor for the opportunity to burn heretics in battle and, once the fighting dies down and the processing begins, she takes the time to be a model to the community. With her power armor's bracing and strength support, it's easy to demonstrate to the people of this block how to properly stack the wood for a pyre, and Pia takes five minutes to demonstrate how to create a proper flame updraft with a small model of tinder and twigs to the few children in the area.

"You want the flames to burn high, and towards the sky, to lift the souls of the damned to the God-Emperor for judgement," she says with a sunny smile as several of the locals manhandle a gagged heretic towards the first stake. "Now, the important thing is that you begin to burn from the bottom - that way the flame rises up and has more time to purify the wicked soul and, of course, it means that your own clothes will not catch fire. We wouldn't want that to happen, no?"

The chorus of children's voices "No, Sister!" blankets out the muffled groans of the damned behind Pia. "When you burn the wicked, you should always make sure to observe proper fire safety protocols, children, so that you do not damage the God-Emperor's property through stupidity and carelessness. Make sure that you get proper, dry wood if you can-" Not that this is easy on Dreverach "- or some other dry burnable substance, because wood that is still full of water will create much smoke."

She waggles a finger, looking stern. "Great billowing clouds of smoke are bad for the health of the God-Emperor's servants, and even worse, they will choke the heretic and make them fall unconscious before pain and fire ready their soul for judgement!" Matters spiritual always outweigh matters temporal, after all!

Then she half-turns to look at the pyres. "Observe how the pyres are spaced in a W-like line? Now, young Ioannus," she says to one of the boys, "Can you tell me why?"

He looks at her, frozen from being addressed by a Battle Sister, but he was one of those who paid close attention when she talked about the proper incendine rites be fore. "B-because we can... uh, the flames, they go up, not sideways, so we can get more of them in..." He mimes a small area. "Less space, Sister?"

Pia claps her hands. "Good, good, well done! Now, run along and get your caretakers, we have heretics to burn!"

Shephard · Dec 2, 2018

Zeitgeist Blue said:
Eriko nods, placing her hands on her hips. "Sounds like a the Arbites are well versed for. Though who knows, our sisters may just learn everything just from talking to it." She shrugs her shoulders and she looked to the side to where Squad Selveria last reported in. "I found it chattier than a nervous Schola student in an oral defence."

"The Heretic often wishes to justify their madness." The Sister-Superior replies as you stride back to the Rhinos. "Though really, it seems like most things able to be called "Champion" happen to love the sound of their own voice."

Derosa steps forward, motioning toward Palais. "Sounds like someone I know."

Palais shrugs her armoured pauldrons. "Guilty as charged." She chuckles.

Zeitgeist Blue said:
Eriko averts her eyes with a small sigh before she set her helmet back in place. She brought up the runes, studied them, saw the poison running through Maria's calf, and only then spoke. "Of course, Sister Maria."

There were questions that needed asking. Perhaps her fellow veteran sister could prove a font of answers, but that did not change the fact that Maria was still distateful.

"Sister Ilana. Black." Erikos said before moving to the side of the truck where there was a modicum of privacy.

"Please sit," Eriko said as her instruments slid into place with a clack. There was no need for rudeness after all, not in a public venue anyway.

(OOC: Use Diagnosticator when using Diagnose on Maria. Then use Panimune if necessary to suppress the toxin.

+20 Medicae to Diagnose. +20 Toughness)

The infection has already been contained by the anti-viral systems of Maria's armor, it seems. She is in no danger. You do, however, manage to repair the worst of the damage the infection did (Maria's wounds recover).

greendoor said:
Caelia turns from staring into the flames to her Sister Superior. She nods-"I...must confess Sister Superior. I had thoughts of joining the fray-it seemed more glorious or befitting my skills to slay the enemy. I can only thank the Emperor that I made the right choice...I was the only one here with the right arms for this."

"If you're hoping for censure, Sister, you're looking in the wrong place. I was the worst sort of gloryhound, once." Palais replies, a faint smile playing across her lips. "I served with the Dominions so I could be at the forefront. It was only later that I realized that duty is not always glorious."

She claps you on the pauldron. "War is glorious Sister, but it can also be ugly and onerous. I am glad that you have more maturity than I did at your rank." She nods her head. "Today, I think, Leanna will smile upon you most of us all. But we ought to get moving. I'll go fetch Sister Pia. I think she's entertaining the local children."

Cornuthaum said:
Pia claps her hands. "Good, good, well done! Now, run along and get your caretakers, we have heretics to burn!"

You hear the hum of power armor behind you and turn to see Palais, giving you a nod. "Have a good time, Sister?" She asks, watching the children go on their way. "You have a way with the little ones, it seems."

"Come, it's time we got moving."

Viatorem and Ex Cathedra continue on their path down the highway together. Chariot of Saints follows for a short while, Squad Selveria taking off with the whole of the prisoners your combined squads had taken.

"Good hunting, Sisters." Selveria's voice crackles across the vox before you continue on your way. It is not much longer before the marketplace looms ahead. The Schechin market it'd been called, and it's easy to see why. Once it may have been a sight to see, vast rows of stores and vendor stalls offering everything from food to augmetics to clothing brands. Storefronts vary from those of major merchantile combines and guilds, to small carts rented out by lone entrepreneurs. Now, it has become a warren of disease.

Dead from disease and riot alike lie openly in the streets here, their rotted through bodies smoldering in the sunlight, small piles of them piling up in the alleyways and gutters. Rats the size of a small canid swarm along the shadows, feasting on the dead and dying. Many of the storefronts are boarded up, covered in graffiti or Officio Medicae posters warning they have been condemned, some burnt out. Overturned cars and burned out vehicles choke the streets, forcing the Viatorem to apply its dozer blade to force room. Yet the streets are not dead. Large throngs of those suffering to the Black Rot have flocked to the streets, some pillaging buildings or fighting among one another for scraps of supplies, and there are others aside. Packs of scavengers in masks and chem-suits are an almost constant sight, picking through the stores and vehicles. Some of the storefronts even remain open, these more often than not patrolled by armed guards, lit by purifying candles and selling at outrageous prices to the occasional armed caravans coming and going from the few storefronts still operating to buy or sell. Gangs of footpads use the chaos to fight it out among themselves without fear of intervention all across the market, bands of vigilantes haphazardly attack those claimed by the Black Rot, and the rioting is rife even here as men and women fight for the wealth of supplies sitting inside dilapidated storefronts all around. Signs of the cult are evident everywhere: Bodies gruesomely mutilated, mad scrawlings upon the walls. Some of the locals have begun to try and clean these desecrations, but many just hurry by.

And the Cult's presence is felt more physically, as well. The first IED detonates harmlessly against the Viatorem's bulldozer blade, but they are not content to give up easily. A thrown molotov here, a barrage of sniper fire there, an ineffective RPG now and then. The Sisters dismount to better protect the Rhinos after a crazed bomber almost hurls an improvised demolition pack between the Viatorem's tracks, but this proves a frustrating experience as the foe retreats after striking before the superior armament of the Sororitas can be brought to bear. Illana manages to claim a single kill with her boltgun, Palais a second, while Pia is fortunate enough to surprise a pair of cultists hiding among a corpse pile and set them alight. No other foemen are claimed by the squad, and just when you think that a squad of the heretics have made a mistake and allowed for the squad to close in as they retreat, Maria's auspex howls its warnings.

The Viatorem barely manages to halt before it hits the high grade explosive charges assembled to attempt to destroy it. A pair of IEDs made from the shells of Basilisk Earthshaker shells, their Machine-Spirits crying out in agony, and an Astra Militarum anti-tank mine. Sister Arina, a Sister with some degree of techno-lore, manages to disarm the charges but only after the two squads sustain prolonged fire from concealed snipers.

Signs of rioting intensify as you near the center of the market as does cult activity. Masked rioters fight over boxes of what look like emergency aid supplies, other brawls undergoing for no apparent reason at all. Gunfire rings all the louder, the deeper you get and you see mobs of Schechin infected and those untouched by the virus alike fleeing in droves. The piles of bodies are thicker here, many seemingly shredded by gunfire or blade rather than burnt through by the plague.

"Mutants ahead!" A Sister shouts out from Derosa's squad, leveling her bolter at a group of malformed figures ahead, arguing with a gasmasked human over a pile of corpses.

Palais raises a fist to forestall the shooting. "Not quite." She says, her voice chilled. "Pelagers."

The abhumans, seeing your coming, throw themselves to the ground. As you approach, you hear them muttering terrified prayers to the Emperor and pleas for mercy. Their light clothing (At least, compared to the actual humans) exposes much of their warped forms. Hairless bodies, webbed fingers and feet, rudimentary gills, mottled skin in unnatural shades of gray, white and blue and black eyes like the depths of the deepest abyss all make them an ugly sight to look upon. The gasmasked human bows, but does not prostrate himself as the abhumans do.

"Mercy, oh mercy, holy ones. We have registration papers, we are servants of the God-Emperor." Wetly croaks the lead freak, the wrinkles in its sandpaper like skin making it seem like the elder.

"You seem underdressed for this plague warren, abhuman." Palais growls.

"The Black-Rot has never affected us as it has humans. Rarely do we die from it."

The human scoffs, her voice malformed by her mask. "'Cause they're the ones that spread it. Ages and ages on, every time the Little Cog district has expanded enough that the freaks might need to move their little ghetto to make room for us, suddenly a plague or the ilk runs rampant through the district and leaves them alone. Real convenient for them." The woman grunts, motioning at the squad. "Can you put some bolts in these freaks? These mutants tried to steal my claim and bloody well threatened me."

"We did no such thing!" One of the abhumans hisses. "We were here first!"

"Shsh, Amelia!" The elder Pelager demands.

Palais sighs, waving a hand to silence all. "What's going on in the market?" Palais asks, motioning a hand at the woman.

She shrugs her shoulders. "I was just looting the freezers at a storefront down the way when there's all this shouting and gunfire and bollocks. Hid for a while 'til it moved on. Saw this batch-" She motions at the pile of bodies. "-shot to hell through a window. Thought they might have a few guilders to get me through the week."

Palais looks down at the abhumans. "Do you know anything more, Pelager?"

The lead abhuman swallows. "There's talk that the Administratum sent relief supplies to be delivered to the Merud and Daughters foundry near here, but something happened and all the supplies got dumped in the middle of the fighting. Things got ugly fast. They say that Vennedes led some of her people to drive back the House Merud men to their walls, and then the other groups got mixed in. I saw rioters with the Bluejacket's colors duking it out with Selveria Collier's, saw looters break into one of the churches even and dare hurt the priest there before running like the cowards they were!" The abhuman mutters. Its low grows lower, reverent. "I hear Father Tibim himself was here, bringing faith and fire to the unclean! Though we did not see him. And..." The mutant trails off.

"But?" Palais asks.

"The cultists came, during the confusion. Fighting everyone. Killing everyone. We saw many heading toward the old fountain, the one of the counting Saint? We went the other way." The abhuman hesitates. "Please, don't kill us, oh holy ones."

Before Palais can reply, your vox crackles with an ident code you don't recognize at first. "Is this Squad Palais and Squad Derosa? This is Witch Hunter Vahn Zayneth! Heretics have located my position, and I am under fire! I require immediate support!"

"And there's the Witch Hunter." Palais mutters.

OOC
You are now inside your AO. Your tertiary objectives are now at hand, but so are the primary concentrations of the cult. Be aware, you can split the party.

Zeitgeist Blue · Dec 4, 2018

Shephard said:
"Mutants ahead!" A Sister shouts out from Derosa's squad, leveling her bolter at a group of malformed figures ahead, arguing with a gasmasked human over a pile of corpses.

Palais raises a fist to forestall the shooting. "Not quite." She says, her voice chilled. "Pelagers."

The abhumans, seeing your coming, throw themselves to the ground. As you approach, you hear them muttering terrified prayers to the Emperor and pleas for mercy. Their light clothing (At least, compared to the actual humans) exposes much of their warped forms. Hairless bodies, webbed fingers and feet, rudimentary gills, mottled skin in unnatural shades of gray, white and blue and black eyes like the depths of the deepest abyss all make them an ugly sight to look upon. The gasmasked human bows, but does not prostrate himself as the abhumans do.

"Mercy, oh mercy, holy ones. We have registration papers, we are servants of the God-Emperor." Wetly croaks the lead freak, the wrinkles in its sandpaper like skin making it seem like the elder.

"You seem underdressed for this plague warren, abhuman." Palais growls.

"The Black-Rot has never affected us as it has humans. Rarely do we die from it."

The human scoffs, her voice malformed by her mask. "'Cause they're the ones that spread it. Ages and ages on, every time the Little Cog district has expanded enough that the freaks might need to move their little ghetto to make room for us, suddenly a plague or the ilk runs rampant through the district and leaves them alone. Real convenient for them." The woman grunts, motioning at the squad. "Can you put some bolts in these freaks? These mutants tried to steal my claim and bloody well threatened me."

"We did no such thing!" One of the abhumans hisses. "We were here first!"

"Shsh, Amelia!" The elder Pelager demands.

Eriko closes her eyes, praying for patience to even listen to this petty dilemma. Corpse scavengers and abhumans, two of the kinds of people she had no wish to deal with and so she kept her peace, watching instead their surroundings as Palais deals with them.

Best to just blow up the corpses and deny whatever unclean riches hide within the cold flesh if her opinion were to be asked. But it would be a waste of a bolter round and no doubt some of her Sisters would misconstrue that as hewing too close to the abhumans' favor.

Shephard said:
Palais sighs, waving a hand to silence all. "What's going on in the market?" Palais asks, motioning a hand at the woman.

She shrugs her shoulders. "I was just looting the freezers at a storefront down the way when there's all this shouting and gunfire and bollocks. Hid for a while 'til it moved on. Saw this batch-" She motions at the pile of bodies. "-shot to hell through a window. Thought they might have a few guilders to get me through the week."

Palais looks down at the abhumans. "Do you know anything more, Pelager?"

The lead abhuman swallows. "There's talk that the Administratum sent relief supplies to be delivered to the Merud and Daughters foundry near here, but something happened and all the supplies got dumped in the middle of the fighting. Things got ugly fast. They say that Vennedes led some of her people to drive back the House Merud men to their walls, and then the other groups got mixed in. I saw rioters with the Bluejacket's colors duking it out with Selveria Collier's, saw looters break into one of the churches even and dare hurt the priest there before running like the cowards they were!" The abhuman mutters. Its low grows lower, reverent. "I hear Father Tibim himself was here, bringing faith and fire to the unclean! Though we did not see him. And..." The mutant trails off.

"But?" Palais asks.

"The cultists came, during the confusion. Fighting everyone. Killing everyone. We saw many heading toward the old fountain, the one of the counting Saint? We went the other way." The abhuman hesitates. "Please, don't kill us, oh holy ones."

Before Palais can reply, your vox crackles with an ident code you don't recognize at first. "Is this Squad Palais and Squad Derosa? This is Witch Hunter Vahn Zayneth! Heretics have located my position, and I am under fire! I require immediate support!"

"And there's the Witch Hunter." Palais mutters.

OOC
You are now inside your AO. Your tertiary objectives are now at hand, but so are the primary concentrations of the cult. Be aware, you can split the party.

"The Witch Hunter requires our assistance, Sister-Superior," Eriko says, nodding her head and striding for the Viatorem. "If I can presume, then we must answer his call with all haste. They would be moving to the House Merud facility which shoulders the center of this city's unrest. If the abhuman speaks true then Father Tibim and Vennedes are there personally. A chance to mollify two considerable forces should not be passed."

With a dull clang, her boot steps on the first rung of the Viatorem and before she begins jer climb she swings her gaze towards Ilana.

"Sister Ilana," Eriko pauses before her tongue runs past her again. There was a need for her to review and rectify her behavior, especially if the squad deemed it irritating, but now was not the time. "You have a way with the faithful. Lend me your voice at the House Merud facility and we could direct the rioters' passions to this city's true enemy."

@SirLagginton

greendoor · Dec 6, 2018

Shephard said:
"If you're hoping for censure, Sister, you're looking in the wrong place. I was the worst sort of gloryhound, once." Palais replies, a faint smile playing across her lips. "I served with the Dominions so I could be at the forefront. It was only later that I realized that duty is not always glorious."

She claps you on the pauldron. "War is glorious Sister, but it can also be ugly and onerous. I am glad that you have more maturity than I did at your rank." She nods her head. "Today, I think, Leanna will smile upon you most of us all. But we ought to get moving. I'll go fetch Sister Pia. I think she's entertaining the local children."

Caelia simply faintly nodded. A lesson she would take to heart.

Shephard said:
"Mutants ahead!" A Sister shouts out from Derosa's squad, leveling her bolter at a group of malformed figures ahead, arguing with a gasmasked human over a pile of corpses.

Palais raises a fist to forestall the shooting. "Not quite." She says, her voice chilled. "Pelagers."

The abhumans, seeing your coming, throw themselves to the ground. As you approach, you hear them muttering terrified prayers to the Emperor and pleas for mercy. Their light clothing (At least, compared to the actual humans) exposes much of their warped forms. Hairless bodies, webbed fingers and feet, rudimentary gills, mottled skin in unnatural shades of gray, white and blue and black eyes like the depths of the deepest abyss all make them an ugly sight to look upon. The gasmasked human bows, but does not prostrate himself as the abhumans do.

"Mercy, oh mercy, holy ones. We have registration papers, we are servants of the God-Emperor." Wetly croaks the lead freak, the wrinkles in its sandpaper like skin making it seem like the elder.

"You seem underdressed for this plague warren, abhuman." Palais growls.

"The Black-Rot has never affected us as it has humans. Rarely do we die from it."

The human scoffs, her voice malformed by her mask. "'Cause they're the ones that spread it. Ages and ages on, every time the Little Cog district has expanded enough that the freaks might need to move their little ghetto to make room for us, suddenly a plague or the ilk runs rampant through the district and leaves them alone. Real convenient for them." The woman grunts, motioning at the squad. "Can you put some bolts in these freaks? These mutants tried to steal my claim and bloody well threatened me."

"We did no such thing!" One of the abhumans hisses. "We were here first!"

"Shsh, Amelia!" The elder Pelager demands.

Palais sighs, waving a hand to silence all. "What's going on in the market?" Palais asks, motioning a hand at the woman.

She shrugs her shoulders. "I was just looting the freezers at a storefront down the way when there's all this shouting and gunfire and bollocks. Hid for a while 'til it moved on. Saw this batch-" She motions at the pile of bodies. "-shot to hell through a window. Thought they might have a few guilders to get me through the week."

Palais looks down at the abhumans. "Do you know anything more, Pelager?"

The lead abhuman swallows. "There's talk that the Administratum sent relief supplies to be delivered to the Merud and Daughters foundry near here, but something happened and all the supplies got dumped in the middle of the fighting. Things got ugly fast. They say that Vennedes led some of her people to drive back the House Merud men to their walls, and then the other groups got mixed in. I saw rioters with the Bluejacket's colors duking it out with Selveria Collier's, saw looters break into one of the churches even and dare hurt the priest there before running like the cowards they were!" The abhuman mutters. Its low grows lower, reverent. "I hear Father Tibim himself was here, bringing faith and fire to the unclean! Though we did not see him. And..." The mutant trails off.

"But?" Palais asks.

"The cultists came, during the confusion. Fighting everyone. Killing everyone. We saw many heading toward the old fountain, the one of the counting Saint? We went the other way." The abhuman hesitates. "Please, don't kill us, oh holy ones."

Caelia consciously fights to keep her finger off the trigger for the duration of the discussion with the Abhumans. She backs away from the creatures-never before had she seen a mutant that was not aligned with the dark powers, and her upbringing had taught that all genetic deviants were to be annihilated. Even though intellectually she knows these are a permitted strain, it still chafes at her to be in their presence.

Shephard said:
Before Palais can reply, your vox crackles with an ident code you don't recognize at first. "Is this Squad Palais and Squad Derosa? This is Witch Hunter Vahn Zayneth! Heretics have located my position, and I am under fire! I require immediate support!"

"And there's the Witch Hunter." Palais mutters.

Zeitgeist Blue said:
"The Witch Hunter requires our assistance, Sister-Superior," Eriko says, nodding her head and striding for the Viatorem. "If I can presume, then we must answer his call with all haste. They would be moving to the House Merud facility which shoulders the center of this city's unrest. If the abhuman speaks true then Father Tibim and Vennedes are there personally. A chance to mollify two considerable forces should not be passed."

With a dull clang, her boot steps on the first rung of the Viatorem and before she begins jer climb she swings her gaze towards Ilana.

"Sister Ilana," Eriko pauses before her tongue runs past her again. There was a need for her to review and rectify her behavior, especially if the squad deemed it irritating, but now was not the time. "You have a way with the faithful. Lend me your voice at the House Merud facility and we could direct the rioters' passions to this city's true enemy."

"Perhaps presumptuous, but sister Eriko has a point, Sister Superior." She tilts her head towards Palais. "There are too many things to do for us to remain one unit, and we have a comfortable margin of superiority that makes splitting our forces viable. However many of us remain can continue the pursuit of the enemy towards the fountain."

Mina · Dec 6, 2018

Zeitgeist Blue said:
With a dull clang, her boot steps on the first rung of the Viatorem and before she begins jer climb she swings her gaze towards Ilana.

"Sister Ilana," Eriko pauses before her tongue runs past her again. There was a need for her to review and rectify her behavior, especially if the squad deemed it irritating, but now was not the time. "You have a way with the faithful. Lend me your voice at the House Merud facility and we could direct the rioters' passions to this city's true enemy."

greendoor said:
"Why, Sister Eriko, I was unaware your promotion to Sister Superior had come through" Caelia deadpans. "Congratulations. Still...again, I cannot help but think it is a good suggestion, Sister Superior." She tilts her head towards Palais. "There are too many things to do for us to remain one unit, and we have a comfortable margin of superiority that makes splitting our forces viable. The rest of us can continue the pursuit of the enemy towards the fountain."

@Shephard

The tilt of Maria's head, the angle of her helmet's eye-cover, the cast of her shoulders.

It all pointed to Eriko's boot. The boot stepping up in to the Viatorem as if she were in charge of it. Them. Like she wasn't some outsider hospitaller inserted in to their midst to do what? Irritate? Insubordinate? Her hand closed on the vial of holy ash hanging from her waist, and she breathed slowly, moderating, repressing. A soft prayer for patience and forgiveness. It wasn't a bad idea of course. Presented with all the grace of a lobotomized grox writhing under electric prods, but not bad.

"Sister superior, we should not dispatch the blessed Viatorem with less than a demi-squad. Sister Ilana can rapidly redeploy back to Squad Palais and Derosa at the market proper if it is of utmost urgency, but that would leave Sister Eriko dangerously exposed and our holy transport vulnerable. We have already encountered a problematic number of heavy improvised explosive devices, and if the vehicle becomes stranded it will become a matter of attrition."

"Permission to remain with the Viatorem?"

SirLagginton · Dec 9, 2018

Zeitgeist Blue said:
"The Witch Hunter requires our assistance, Sister-Superior," Eriko says, nodding her head and striding for the Viatorem. "If I can presume, then we must answer his call with all haste. They would be moving to the House Merud facility which shoulders the center of this city's unrest. If the abhuman speaks true then Father Tibim and Vennedes are there personally. A chance to mollify two considerable forces should not be passed."

With a dull clang, her boot steps on the first rung of the Viatorem and before she begins jer climb she swings her gaze towards Ilana.

"Sister Ilana," Eriko pauses before her tongue runs past her again. There was a need for her to review and rectify her behavior, especially if the squad deemed it irritating, but now was not the time. "You have a way with the faithful. Lend me your voice at the House Merud facility and we could direct the rioters' passions to this city's true enemy."

@SirLagginton

Ilana's eyes flickered to Maria beside her, where she could see her Sister staring at Eriko will all the subtle grace of a Crotalid. She would wager that Maria would match it for territorialism as well. Ilana could sense that Maria had some affinity with the Machine Spirits, though whether it was mere affinity or some deeper gift of the Omnissiah remained to be seen, yet her displeasure at Eriko's impromtu requisition of the Viatorem remained clear for all to see. She looked back at Eriko, who even if she noticed Maria's hostility looked unrepentant. Ilana could already tell that the duty of peacemaker would involve more than merely calming a riot.

Emperor grant thine servant strength for the trials ahead. Ilana resolved then and there to drag the two out to a confessional or another appropiate location where they could air their grievances with one another. By the Saint she didn't need them to like each other, but this passive-aggressiveness had to end.

"I shall be glad to assist wherever the Emperor demands of me. The duty of the Shephard is among the highest of our callings." Ilana enunciated slowly. "Yet Maria's request too has merit, second only to faith comes sisterhood after all." Not the most elegant wordplay Ilana had ever done, but Ilana had little patience if her comrades were going to be so groxheaded about things. "Regardless of my personal concerns over the flock however, I ask that we direct our attentions to the Witch Hunters first. Their situation calls for immediate aid, and this world could without more rogue witches to spread their heresies."

Shephard · Dec 11, 2018

Zeitgeist Blue said:
"The Witch Hunter requires our assistance, Sister-Superior," Eriko says, nodding her head and striding for the Viatorem. "If I can presume, then we must answer his call with all haste. They would be moving to the House Merud facility which shoulders the center of this city's unrest. If the abhuman speaks true then Father Tibim and Vennedes are there personally. A chance to mollify two considerable forces should not be passed."

With a dull clang, her boot steps on the first rung of the Viatorem and before she begins jer climb she swings her gaze towards Ilana.

"Sister Ilana," Eriko pauses before her tongue runs past her again. There was a need for her to review and rectify her behavior, especially if the squad deemed it irritating, but now was not the time. "You have a way with the faithful. Lend me your voice at the House Merud facility and we could direct the rioters' passions to this city's true enemy."

@SirLagginton

greendoor said:
"Perhaps presumptuous, but sister Eriko has a point, Sister Superior." She tilts her head towards Palais. "There are too many things to do for us to remain one unit, and we have a comfortable margin of superiority that makes splitting our forces viable. However many of us remain can continue the pursuit of the enemy towards the fountain."

Mina said:
@Shephard

The tilt of Maria's head, the angle of her helmet's eye-cover, the cast of her shoulders.

It all pointed to Eriko's boot. The boot stepping up in to the Viatorem as if she were in charge of it. Them. Like she wasn't some outsider hospitaller inserted in to their midst to do what? Irritate? Insubordinate? Her hand closed on the vial of holy ash hanging from her waist, and she breathed slowly, moderating, repressing. A soft prayer for patience and forgiveness. It wasn't a bad idea of course. Presented with all the grace of a lobotomized grox writhing under electric prods, but not bad.

"Sister superior, we should not dispatch the blessed Viatorem with less than a demi-squad. Sister Ilana can rapidly redeploy back to Squad Palais and Derosa at the market proper if it is of utmost urgency, but that would leave Sister Eriko dangerously exposed and our holy transport vulnerable. We have already encountered a problematic number of heavy improvised explosive devices, and if the vehicle becomes stranded it will become a matter of attrition."

"Permission to remain with the Viatorem?"

SirLagginton said:
Ilana's eyes flickered to Maria beside her, where she could see her Sister staring at Eriko will all the subtle grace of a Crotalid. She would wager that Maria would match it for territorialism as well. Ilana could sense that Maria had some affinity with the Machine Spirits, though whether it was mere affinity or some deeper gift of the Omnissiah remained to be seen, yet her displeasure at Eriko's impromtu requisition of the Viatorem remained clear for all to see. She looked back at Eriko, who even if she noticed Maria's hostility looked unrepentant. Ilana could already tell that the duty of peacemaker would involve more than merely calming a riot.

Emperor grant thine servant strength for the trials ahead. Ilana resolved then and there to drag the two out to a confessional or another appropiate location where they could air their grievances with one another. By the Saint she didn't need them to like each other, but this passive-aggressiveness had to end.

"I shall be glad to assist wherever the Emperor demands of me. The duty of the Shepherd is among the highest of our callings." Ilana enunciated slowly. "Yet Maria's request too has merit, second only to faith comes sisterhood after all." Not the most elegant wordplay Ilana had ever done, but Ilana had little patience if her comrades were going to be so groxheaded about things. "Regardless of my personal concerns over the flock however, I ask that we direct our attentions to the Witch Hunters first. Their situation calls for immediate aid, and this world could without more rogue witches to spread their heresies."

"Slow down a minute, Sisters. Let me think." Palais takes in a breath, raising a hand to forestall the conversation. She looks behind her at Sister-Superior Derosa. "Caelia's right, this hardly merits a full squad. But the safety of a witch-finder is important nonetheless."

"If he and whatever dregs he's hired can survive the foe, then the threat should be easily handled by a few of us." Derosa agrees. "But we do have only two transports. As Sister Maria states, our holy armour must be protected. We'll need to do some shuffling." She says the word with a note of distaste. "And I would rather not have one of us take over the other's command unless necessary."

"Hey, I'm sure that our Sisters wouldn't mind going on foot. " Palais jokes. "Should we take the Viatorem for ourselves? Be a bit cramped with most of us in the Ex Cathedra."
"No doubt the witch hunter and his hirelings will need transport and they wouldn't fit in the Ex Cathedra. The Viatorem has long served as a transport for VIPs. It can serve again. We may need the firepower, anyway."
The two Sister-Superiors discuss some more. After a minute, Palais turns back toward the squad. "Sister Illana, Sister Maria. You'll take the Viatorem, accompanied by Sisters Liandra and Anna of Squad Derosa. Liandra will be command. Consider any word from her as though it were my own."

The veteran Battle-Sister nods her head, resting her Stormbolter on her shoulder. "As the Emperor wills, it will be done."

Palais motions toward Sister Eriko. "Derosa and I are in agreement. We're calling in a platoon of the PDF to support our assault. If any of them are injured, I want my former Hospitaller in hand. Sisters, bring them Leanna's Mercy!"

The scavenger coughs. "And what about us? I still have stolen loot in the hand of these freaks!"

Derosa motions a hand at the scavenger. "File it with the Arbitrators. We have heretics to kill." The scavenger growls beneath her rebreather, but wilts under the Sister-Superior's glare. "You are dismissed. You as well, abhumans."

"Many blessings upon you!" The Pelagers bleat, hastily making an escape.

@Zeitgeist Blue
As the two squads hastily load up the Ex Cathedra, Sister Palais leans over Eriko and whispers in her ear. Her words are all but inaudible over the humm of fusion reactors and the Rhino's engine. "I only told you a half truth, Sister. A third?" She shrugs her armoured pauldrons. "Forgive me. I don't know if you noticed Maria's ire toward you, but I did. I didn't want you two alone together. It'd be dishonor to the Order and myself if you two go into an argument or something. I'll speak with her afterward, but for now, do watch your tongue. You're doing better, Sister, and I thank you for that but you're still being...What was Caelia's word, somewhat presumptuous?"

She sighs. "You're no longer a Hospitaller, Sister. I understand that you were a veteran among the Order of Pure Water, and that medics are used to being obeyed, but among the Order of the Burning Rose you have neither rank nor veterancy. To some, you're not even truly a member of the Order. We'll discuss this more, later. For now, I would ask you meditate and ready for battle."

@SirLagginton @Mina

The Viatorem is almost quiet with its hold largely empty, the rioting and moans of the diseased outside deafened by the thick hull. With Maria piloting the Viatorem and Liandra scanning for threats from the pintle mount, only Sisters Ilana and Anna are left in the back. The red haired and freckled woman shifts awkwardly in her seat, occasionally muttering calming psalms to her boltgun. "So...Ilana right? We really haven't really talked much, have we? Discounting the holy 'almost eating an RPG to the face' thing."

"Anna Sudlend Rekanov at your service." She says with a soft bow of her head.

It isn't long after that the Viatorem pushes through the rioting and arrives at the crumbling tenement building, sweeping shanties crawling over the building. The echo of heavy gunfire rolls out of the building, deafened. It's clear the fire's coming from inside. Liandra's voice rings out, almost amused. "Sentries outside. Looks like the fools are firing at us." She comments just as a heavily armed guntruck pulls out of the shadows of an alleyway, peppering the Viatorem's sacred hull with multiple heavy stubbers. Liandra's reaction is as swift as it is brutal, the quadruple boom of the stormbolter ringing through the Viatorem as she directs a stream of fire into the truck. The mass reactive rounds rip away chunks of the hull and punch into the engine and ammo belts. The boltrounds' detonations are followed up by a chorus of secondaries, the gun nest being ripped apart in a spray of shrapnel and broken bodies.

More heretics draped in cloaks and rebreathers scamper forward, perhaps a dozen at most, firing with improvised stub guns and laslocks. Their deaths are little than afterthoughts. A burst from Illana's boltgun claims three, severing the arm of one and bursting the torsos of two more. Maria's heavy bolter reduces almost a half dozen to piles of unrecognizable meat in a single burst. The sole survivor, torso shredded through by shrapnel, can only raise her hand meekly before the Sister crushes her skull beneath her boot. The last few survivors attempt to flee, only to eat boltrounds from Sister Liandra and Anna and perish miserably amidst the shanties.

"Clear." Liandra comments, a loud thud ringing out as she drops from the Viatorem's roof. "Witch-Hunter Zayneth, this is Sister Liandra. We've arrived. What's your situation?"

"Busy, Sister!" Gunfire, screams and the clash of blades shriek over the tortured vox. "Back! Await your turn at judgement, heretical ones!"

"Give us the psyker, witch-finder, and you'll get to live! Have no fear, the witch will die in our care."

"Fall back! Fall back!" A howl of gunfire. A gurgling noise, like the sound of a man choking on his own blood. "I will purge thee all, in Selverus' name!"

"Sounds like he's in trouble. We ought to hurry." Anna comments, stepping forward but Liandra shakes her head.

"You remain with the Viatorem, Anna. Guard it with your life." Liandra orders. Sister Anna hesitates, but nods her head and moves to take up a defensive position. "Sister Maria, Illana. I want to see you in action. Do check your fire as we go in. I would rather not explain why Witch-Hunter exploded. Be ready-I doubt they didn't notice the boltguns outside." Harsh chanting and bellowing ring out as Liandra takes up position by a side door. "Ready?"

@Cornuthaum @greendoor @Zeitgeist Blue

You are not the first to try and meet the cultists in battle. Streams of civilians and scattered handful of men with gang tattoos and those bearing the excessive purity seals, candles and other religious iconography of religious militias flee past you as you approach the plaza. It is not long until you start to find the bodies, gangers and militia and civilians alike torn down by blade and shot, their bodies cooking in the dying sunlight. Vehicles, ridden with bullet craters, line the road. Entire piles of bodies are found, many bearing the telltale signs of the Black Rot. Here and there are the blood stains where a cultist must have fallen, occasionally even a fallen heretic hidden beneath other bodies or a vehicle. But it is clear the militias that attempted to halt the heretics suffered badly. Above, clouds begin to gather. Thick and black. The PDF troops gather behind your carmine vanguard, testing their gasmasks and rebreathers and tightening their hands on their lasguns. The lieutenant a hardfaced man with an augmetic eye and segmented carapace breastplate keeps them steady with bellowed prayers from the Uplifting Primer. Regimental songs, half-choked by the masks, follow you as you march.

Then, you come to the plaza. The PDF suddenly jerk to a halt, the only sound remaining the soft humm of your power armor and the crack of their platoon standard in the wind.

"Throne of Earth." Palais breathe as she sees the plaza.

What awaits you is a scene of horror. The statue of a female saint, a thick tome and quill in hand, sits in the middle of the plaza carpeted in heaps of flesh and impaled bodies. Bodies slumped over her wings like a fur mantle. Mad scrawlings and symbols that hurt the eyes run down its marble flanks, painted in the same mixture of promethium and blood you saw before. Piles of bodies fill the fountain water below, staining red and black with the dead. Strange vapors dance in the air, pulsating with malefic intent.

Before the fountain, atop a truck stands a ranting figure, wreathed in thick robes and brandishing a laud-hailer staff in hand. In the other, a moldy tome, that nonetheless holds the attention of swarms of bloodied civilians and cult mobs that gather before her. You hear her, loud and clear, even over the distance. "And on the ninth day, Olenia found a forest amidst the desert sands. Each tree was as unto a titan with leafs of silver. Soon, Olenia found herself lost amidst the trees, singing the psalms she had taught. But nothing answered her amidst the silver trees, and at every turn the path behind her seemed to change. But at least, as sun began to set, Olenia saw a flicker of flame on the horizon. Through the forest she walked, until she came upon a burning tree. In those flames, she saw the God of the Ninth Day and she bowed her head, for she was afraid to look upon a god.

"Are you not T'char," She cried. "The God of my mother, the God of Kyranik and the God of Josepha?"

"Indeed I am, and I am not. For I am a God of many names, as my brothers and sisters are. I am the Changer of Ways, the Trickster, the Hopebringer. It is I that set the stars in motion, and breathed the first breath of life upon the worlds of man." The God did say. "As the rest of the Four did, I bring you gifts. I bring you the gift of knowledge and of hope."

"And what is this knowledge?" Asked Olenia.

"That you will die with your goals unachieved." Answered the God.

"That is your gift? Then what is the point of my quest? What hope can you offer?"

"I tell you this: Your descendants will conquer the stars. Many will be Kings. Other, even as unto the Angels you fight. You will be the mother of many nations, the lords of Araxes. Even as conquerors and Invaders come upon you, this I promise you: We will always be with you, and your children will rule the stars. That is the hope I gift you. That Araxes will belong to your descendants."

"Blasphemy!" Palais' voice rings out, deafeningly loud. Swarms of civilians turn toward you, and with sinking realization you see the chaos brands and sigils freshly painted unto their flesh. The preacher turns her gaze toward the approaching Sisters, shaking her head.

"And lo', do the invaders come! To claim what was given unto us by the gods of Araxes! You are too late!" The priestess snarls over the laud-speaker. "These men and women have realized the truth. Dreverarch never belonged to you. Araxes belongs to the old gods. You stole Araxes from its golden age and called it the 'Fall'.

Derosa's voice whispers over the vox. "That crowd perhaps. But look behind. Those men and women under guard are unmarked. Sacrifices."

The crowd trembles, seeing your carmine plate in the light of the lamp posts, the legion of PDF troopers behind you.. Many begin to back away but the priestess just laughs. "So easily you lose faith. Do you think they will spare you for your second thoughts, my children? The Emperor is dead, and His disciples bring only death! If you wish to live, kill! Let the gods know you remember them! Let them hear you, let them know your blood is that of their Saints! Earn their blessings in battle! Araxes is ours, but only if you fight for it!" The crowd stirs, driven to fury. They howl and snarl, brandishing pistols and improvised weapons.

The priestess brandishes her staff like a sword. "For the Dark Gods! Charge!"

"For the Emperor! For Leanna! Suffer not the heretic to live!" Palais bellows, waving her chainsword forward.

Zeitgeist Blue · Dec 12, 2018

Shephard said:
Palais motions toward Sister Eriko. "Derosa and I are in agreement. We're calling in a platoon of the PDF to support our assault. If any of them are injured, I want my former Hospitaller in hand. Sisters, bring them Leanna's Mercy

Eriko nodded, stepping down from the Viatorem's ladder awkwardly. Given her skills she too would be valuable going to the House Merud facility.

But as a Hospitaller her profession came first, to heal those who deserved the blessed grace. And there was another reason she supposed, that Maria was too set into holding the Viatorem for her own. It was selfish and crippled the squad's capabilities further than it should have been.

She saw through her Sister, but she had already been given a place of order. Averting her glare from Maria, she turned to speak to Palais.

"It shall be done, Sister-Superior. The soldiers shall have nothing to fear under my care."

Shephard said:
@Zeitgeist Blue
As the two squads hastily load up the Ex Cathedra, Sister Palais leans over Eriko and whispers in her ear. Her words are all but inaudible over the humm of fusion reactors and the Rhino's engine. "I only told you a half truth, Sister. A third?" She shrugs her armoured pauldrons. "Forgive me. I don't know if you noticed Maria's ire toward you, but I did. I didn't want you two alone together. It'd be dishonor to the Order and myself if you two go into an argument or something. I'll speak with her afterward, but for now, do watch your tongue. You're doing better, Sister, and I thank you for that but you're still being...What was Caelia's word, somewhat presumptuous?"

She sighs. "You're no longer a Hospitaller, Sister. I understand that you were a veteran among the Order of Pure Water, and that medics are used to being obeyed, but among the Order of the Burning Rose you have neither rank nor veterancy. To some, you're not even truly a member of the Order. We'll discuss this more, later. For now, I would ask you meditate and ready for battle."

Eriko sighs, closing her eyes against the pressure welling up on the bridge of her nose.

Of course that was a factor. Spoken plainly, it seemed so obvious but she did not like to dwell on it. She was a like a sapling remembering it was once a tree and trying to become one once again. Maria was already that tree.

"I was afraid that was true." She shook her head, then set her gaze on the Ex Cathedra's twin-linked bolters, shining gloriously in the sunlight. "But yes, that is for another time. Holy battle comes first."

Shephard said:
@Cornuthaum @greendoor @Zeitgeist Blue

You are not the first to try and meet the cultists in battle. Streams of civilians and scattered handful of men with gang tattoos and those bearing the excessive purity seals, candles and other religious iconography of religious militias flee past you as you approach the plaza. It is not long until you start to find the bodies, gangers and militia and civilians alike torn down by blade and shot, their bodies cooking in the dying sunlight. Vehicles, ridden with bullet craters, line the road. Entire piles of bodies are found, many bearing the telltale signs of the Black Rot. Here and there are the blood stains where a cultist must have fallen, occasionally even a fallen heretic hidden beneath other bodies or a vehicle. But it is clear the militias that attempted to halt the heretics suffered badly. Above, clouds begin to gather. Thick and black. The PDF troops gather behind your carmine vanguard, testing their gasmasks and rebreathers and tightening their hands on their lasguns. The lieutenant a hardfaced man with an augmetic eye and segmented carapace breastplate keeps them steady with bellowed prayers from the Uplifting Primer. Regimental songs, half-choked by the masks, follow you as you march.

Then, you come to the plaza. The PDF suddenly jerk to a halt, the only sound remaining the soft humm of your power armor and the crack of their platoon standard in the wind.

"Throne of Earth." Palais breathe as she sees the plaza.

What awaits you is a scene of horror. The statue of a female saint, a thick tome and quill in hand, sits in the middle of the plaza carpeted in heaps of flesh and impaled bodies. Bodies slumped over her wings like a fur mantle. Mad scrawlings and symbols that hurt the eyes run down its marble flanks, painted in the same mixture of promethium and blood you saw before. Piles of bodies fill the fountain water below, staining red and black with the dead. Strange vapors dance in the air, pulsating with malefic intent.

Before the fountain, atop a truck stands a ranting figure, wreathed in thick robes and brandishing a laud-hailer staff in hand. In the other, a moldy tome, that nonetheless holds the attention of swarms of bloodied civilians and cult mobs that gather before her. You hear her, loud and clear, even over the distance. "And on the ninth day, Olenia found a forest amidst the desert sands. Each tree was as unto a titan with leafs of silver. Soon, Olenia found herself lost amidst the trees, singing the psalms she had taught. But nothing answered her amidst the silver trees, and at every turn the path behind her seemed to change. But at least, as sun began to set, Olenia saw a flicker of flame on the horizon. Through the forest she walked, until she came upon a burning tree. In those flames, she saw the God of the Ninth Day and she bowed her head, for she was afraid to look upon a god.

"Are you not T'char," She cried. "The God of my mother, the God of Kyranik and the God of Josepha?"

"Indeed I am, and I am not. For I am a God of many names, as my brothers and sisters are. I am the Changer of Ways, the Trickster, the Hopebringer. It is I that set the stars in motion, and breathed the first breath of life upon the worlds of man." The God did say. "As the rest of the Four did, I bring you gifts. I bring you the gift of knowledge and of hope."

"And what is this knowledge?" Asked Olenia.

"That you will die with your goals unachieved." Answered the God.

"That is your gift? Then what is the point of my quest? What hope can you offer?"

"I tell you this: Your descendants will conquer the stars. Many will be Kings. Other, even as unto the Angels you fight. You will be the mother of many nations, the lords of Araxes. Even as conquerors and Invaders come upon you, this I promise you: We will always be with you, and your children will rule the stars. That is the hope I gift you. That Araxes will belong to your descendants."

"Blasphemy!" Palais' voice rings out, deafeningly loud. Swarms of civilians turn toward you, and with sinking realization you see the chaos brands and sigils freshly painted unto their flesh. The preacher turns her gaze toward the approaching Sisters, shaking her head.

"And lo', do the invaders come! To claim what was given unto us by the gods of Araxes! You are too late!" The priestess snarls over the laud-speaker. "These men and women have realized the truth. Dreverarch never belonged to you. Araxes belongs to the old gods. You stole Araxes from its golden age and called it the 'Fall'.

Derosa's voice whispers over the vox. "That crowd perhaps. But look behind. Those men and women under guard are unmarked. Sacrifices."

The crowd trembles, seeing your carmine plate in the light of the lamp posts, the legion of PDF troopers behind you.. Many begin to back away but the priestess just laughs. "So easily you lose faith. Do you think they will spare you for your second thoughts, my children? The Emperor is dead, and His disciples bring only death! If you wish to live, kill! Let the gods know you remember them! Let them hear you, let them know your blood is that of their Saints! Earn their blessings in battle! Araxes is ours, but only if you fight for it!" The crowd stirs, driven to fury. They howl and snarl, brandishing pistols and improvised weapons.

The priestess brandishes her staff like a sword. "For the Dark Gods! Charge!"

"For the Emperor! For Leanna! Suffer not the heretic to live!" Palais bellows, waving her chainsword forward.

Blasphemy and more, everything despicable about their enemy made physical and collapsed into that one scene. She could feel Storm's pistons hammer harder than ever as she walked forward among the Palais and Derosa's retinue, targetting runes painting all she could see until her vision was a sea of red.

Then Derosa alerted them to the sacrifices and many of the red runes fritz away, turning green. With a flick of her wrist, she frees her shotgun from its lock as her boots crunch on the ground. She was one among many of her sisters and if they were to do what she thinks they will, then the crowd will melt under their combined wrath.

"The fools will die in droves," she comments as the false preacher stirs her flock into a frenzy. "Such a flagrant waste of their lives."

At Palais' command, her armour leapt into action, the Storm's stored rage powering the charge. Closer, closer. She raised her shotgun, not even needing to aim for the mass of bodies, and her shots mingled with the boom of weaponry around her.

(OOC: Full Move forward and Full Auto Burst with shotgun. Flechette Shells. +2 Penetration. +1 Damage cause no armour. Reliable. Scatter. Splintering. 22 rounds.

BS 40 + 20 Full Auto Burst + 10 Free Action Aim + 10 Accurate + 10 Close Range + 10 Scatter - 30 Full Move = TN 70.

If Point Blank instead: +30 Point Blank -10 Close Range - 10 Scatter = TN 80. Proven (4))

greendoor · Dec 16, 2018

Shephard said:
"And on the ninth day, Olenia found a forest amidst the desert sands. Each tree was as unto a titan with leafs of silver. Soon, Olenia found herself lost amidst the trees, singing the psalms she had taught. But nothing answered her amidst the silver trees, and at every turn the path behind her seemed to change. But at least, as sun began to set, Olenia saw a flicker of flame on the horizon. Through the forest she walked, until she came upon a burning tree. In those flames, she saw the God of the Ninth Day and she bowed her head, for she was afraid to look upon a god.

"Are you not T'char," She cried. "The God of my mother, the God of Kyranik and the God of Josepha?"

"Indeed I am, and I am not. For I am a God of many names, as my brothers and sisters are. I am the Changer of Ways, the Trickster, the Hopebringer. It is I that set the stars in motion, and breathed the first breath of life upon the worlds of man." The God did say. "As the rest of the Four did, I bring you gifts. I bring you the gift of knowledge and of hope."

"And what is this knowledge?" Asked Olenia.

"That you will die with your goals unachieved." Answered the God.

"That is your gift? Then what is the point of my quest? What hope can you offer?"

"I tell you this: Your descendants will conquer the stars. Many will be Kings. Other, even as unto the Angels you fight. You will be the mother of many nations, the lords of Araxes. Even as conquerors and Invaders come upon you, this I promise you: We will always be with you, and your children will rule the stars. That is the hope I gift you. That Araxes will belong to your descendants."

Caelia tunes out the heresy before her-another engagement, another madman with delusional beliefs. It was best not to even bother listening. She checks her bolter as the speech rambles on.

Shephard said:
"And lo', do the invaders come! To claim what was given unto us by the gods of Araxes! You are too late!" The priestess snarls over the laud-speaker. "These men and women have realized the truth. Dreverarch never belonged to you. Araxes belongs to the old gods. You stole Araxes from its golden age and called it the 'Fall'.

This however, she notices. "They blaspheme! Araxes is the Emperor's first, and his chosen stewards to rule!" Caelia shouts, shoving forward. "We must destroy them!" She rages, feet making dents in the rockcrete.

Shephard said:
Derosa's voice whispers over the vox. "That crowd perhaps. But look behind. Those men and women under guard are unmarked. Sacrifices."

"Watch you fire, sisters. Our own presence should be distraction enough I think." Caelia mutters, considering and observing the relevant heretics, calming her burning rage into a simmering boil better suited for battle. She was already prowling forward as she said it, the Slayer of Ten Thousand appearing in her gauntleted fist. She pounds forward, uncaring for cover or concealment. "Engaging close in, Sister Superior and supporting Eriko." She voices, then raises her weapon to fire. She doesn't even bother aiming, no truly-simply lining up the crowd and holding down the trigger as she sprints forward. She howls, even over the thunder of the bolter...

"We bring Leanna's Mercy!"

OOC:Full move imto close contact with the main body-focus on full auto full move and shoot actions. If particuarly choice or vital targets present themselves, aim plus semi auto to pick them off. Once within range, begin chucking frag grenades

Mina · Dec 17, 2018

Shephard said:
The two Sister-Superiors discuss some more. After a minute, Palais turns back toward the squad. "Sister Illana, Sister Maria. You'll take the Viatorem, accompanied by Sisters Liandra and Anna of Squad Derosa. Liandra will be command. Consider any word from her as though it were my own."

The veteran Battle-Sister nods her head, resting her Stormbolter on her shoulder. "As the Emperor wills, it will be done."

"Yes sister-superior." Maria was quick to mount up after displaying due deference to Sister Liandra, the Viatorem's engines revving under her foot. She was not sad to see Sister Eriko board the Chariot, but before going so far as to enjoy a moment of self-satisfaction she flexed her quad and felt the toothed cilice bite hard. Their suggestions had been heard and their superiors had ordained their holy course. There was no one of them that rose above the others, least of all herself.

Maria's hands found the familiar grooves on the Rhino's wheel as they set off to do His work.

Shephard said:
"Sounds like he's in trouble. We ought to hurry." Anna comments, stepping forward but Liandra shakes her head.

"You remain with the Viatorem, Anna. Guard it with your life." Liandra orders. Sister Anna hesitates, but nods her head and moves to take up a defensive position. "Sister Maria, Illana. I want to see you in action. Do check your fire as we go in. I would rather not explain why Witch-Hunter exploded. Be ready-I doubt they didn't notice the boltguns outside." Harsh chanting and bellowing ring out as Liandra takes up position by a side door. "Ready?"

"As you command Sister Liandra. I will look forward to the sweet chorus of the stombolter in our ears." She took a clanking step forward and leveled her heavy bolter at the door. It was better if she was the first thing the heretics saw, and that she had the time and presence of mind to confirm her targets. A part of her whispered to change to the bolt pistol, but that was a coward voice, a voice still grieving with that father for his Dominica. Short, controlled bursts would see her through.

"We breach on your word."

Semi auto, careful target selection, and make sure to keep up contact with the witch-hunters so we minimize the risk of friendly fire.

Cornuthaum · Dec 19, 2018

Shephard said:
What awaits you is a scene of horror. The statue of a female saint, a thick tome and quill in hand, sits in the middle of the plaza carpeted in heaps of flesh and impaled bodies. Bodies slumped over her wings like a fur mantle. Mad scrawlings and symbols that hurt the eyes run down its marble flanks, painted in the same mixture of promethium and blood you saw before. Piles of bodies fill the fountain water below, staining red and black with the dead. Strange vapors dance in the air, pulsating with malefic intent.

For several moments, Pia Rosaria says nothing. She cannot, for bile chokes her throat. If her instructors in the Schola could see her, they might think her afraid at this desecration of all proper Imperial values. Thy might think her weak, choking on bitter acid surging from her stomach.

They would be partially right. It is a struggle to banish the black bile souring her mouth, and she recites the sixth verse of the Litany of Detestation.

But it is not fear that makes her choke on bile, it is not dread and it isn't cowardice.

No, what makes her hands shake and hten tighten on the grips of her Flamer, what makes her eyes wide and bloodshot and what chokes language from her is one of the Imperium's most sacred emotions: Hate.

It grips her by every fiber of her being, refines her spirit in the vitriolic bitterness of that hate. She bathes in the feeling, lets it scourge away weakness like pity or empathy.

She moves in an instant next to Sister Caelia and a half-step behind their Sister-Superior, every footfall like thunder and the hungering heat of her flamer rising.

Run and Gun towards the horde. Unload the flamer into them, then repeat until I run out of ammo or they run out of heretics

Faith and Fire

Be kind to each other.

Still in Statis

Currently Made of Metal

Shadow Cabal Caerbannog Bun-Bun

Still in Statis

Currently Made of Metal

(Verified Door)

Shadow Cabal Caerbannog Bun-Bun

Still in Statis

(Verified Door)

Shadow Cabal Caerbannog Bun-Bun

Currently Made of Metal

Be kind to each other.

Still in Statis

Currently Made of Metal

(Verified Door)

Shadow Cabal Caerbannog Bun-Bun

Still in Statis

Currently Made of Metal

(Verified Door)

Be kind to each other.