"Worry not, Lieutenant," Eriko comments with a wry smile as the squad filters away from the PDF troopers. She shrugs her shoulders, her carmine pauldrons exaggerating the gesture. "Your soldiers will come back to you in one piece. There is a witch to be taken and faithful men and women to be seen to. In the meantime, you have our leave to sit here and give thanks to your blessings."
And with that she follows her squad to plan their next steps.
"I have your leave?" The lieutenant says, voice a harsh rasp through her gashood. "You overstep yourself. You may be a Sister-Militant, but blessed Thor himself put down the Decree Passive. You have no 'leave' to give me." She stabs a index finger toward you, sending droplets of water splashing against your cuirass. "I'm only here as a gesture of my superiors' respect for your Order. Do not test their patience by presuming authority."
[Charm Save Success 4 DoS]
The Lieutenant, fortunately, declines to pursue the matter further. She waves a dismissive hand. "But regardless, I wish you fortune in your quest. The Emperor protects."
Palais gives you a silent but meaningful look as you walk away from the PDF troopers.
@SirLagginton
Caelia sighed. "Perhaps we can convince Vahn Zayneth to lend us his vehicle for this quick reconnoiter. With luck the chosen two can quickly get to the Hospitaliers and back again while we rearm our Sisters and check on the enforcers."
She tried not to look dour, even though no one could see her face. "If nothing goes wrong we could rendezvous before heading towards the objective proper."
"Agreed," Eriko says, her arms folded as the demi-squad talk amongst themselves. "And though as much as it would delight me to see my erstwhile Order again, both Ilana and Maria have fought with the Witch-Hunter before. He would be most amenable to sharing his Taurox with these two." She gestures idly to her Sisters as she says it. "From the looks of his vehicle, even two armoured Battle-Sisters would not fit inside. They would have to sit in the open."
Palais gives a firm nod. "I'm sure the Legatine won't be happy about it, but I don't expect serious opposition. Ilana, Maria, you'll confirm the situation with the Hospitaller. I expect you to rally with us immediately. If you get ambushed, blow through it if you can. I want us all together for when we storm the tower."
@greendoor @Zeitgeist Blue
The march up the long, winding Dreverarch road would be miserable if not for your power armour. The rain hammers at you, splashing down your eye-lenses and ringing against your plate. It fills your auto-senses, sloshes around your boots as it tries to go down ancient drainways. The PDF endure in their poor weather coats, never complaining even as they wade through sunken streets and are drenched to the bone. Ahead the boom of guns and echo of explosions grows louder. Civilians are spotted here and there, lurking among the back alleys and picking among the dead, but most of the life you see is barely worthy of the name. Sickened wretches gathered together in downcast colonies, bearing signs proclaiming their illness if it is not obvious by the blackening, sloughing away flesh that marks the Schechin virus. Some wander the streets with no apparent goal, whilst others lurking in desolate shacks and tenements seeking shelter from the elements and violence on the streets. Most watch you go by with indescribable gazes.
It isn't long until you see the walls of the enforcer station rise ahead. It's a squat structure compared to the surrounding tenements, only made imposing by the heavy stubber lined gun towers and thick walls that surround most of the building, blocking off any access save by the reinforced main gates. Most of the windows have been sealed shut with riot-plates, preventing access, with only the heavy stubber positions lying empty. Yet, even these positions seem dormant and empty.
Broken vehicles and rotting bodies surround the precinct, clearly torn apart by stubber fire and small arms. The corpses, some wearing gang-marks and others cult dress, are piled high in festering heaps, though a handful seem to be dead enforcers. A single ruined scarab patrol car has slammed into a storefront opposite, its heavy stubber missing and crew beaten to death just outside it. Some of the bodies have been there for what seems like weeks, the flesh sloughing off their exposed bones, any resemblance to humanity all but lost. Others are fresher, but to Eriko's expert gaze, still show signs of decomposition such as bloated bellies full of gas, or swarms of flies beginning to lay their eggs. Many of the corpses are crawling with all sorts of insects, whilst others have drawn the attention of larger predators. A pack of wild canids is ripping into the burst belly of a gene-bulk as you pass, slurping up the man's innards hungrily.
One of the PDFers stumbles, audibly gagging as he reaches up toward his helmet, but his sergeant steps forward and places a hand on his shoulder. "Don't, lad. Breathe in, breathe out. I don't want to have to put you down," She says.
A handful of human scavengers pick among the dead, gingerly pulling sealed corpse-starch bars, weapons, or other pieces of equipment from amidst piles of rotting gore. What truly draws your attention though is a small group of the plagued at the front gates to the precinct, some of them testing the unyielding garage gate. Two of them with some sort of tool in their hands are investigating a console by the main doorway, clearly attempting to gain entry.
Others shrink back as you approach, pallid eyes wide. "
Sisters of Battle..." you hear them whisper in awe and fear both.
One of the plague victims steps out, a hand clutched around a copper aquila necklace. Even with half her face blackened and falling away, her lips curl into a wide smile. The rain that touches her face runs red. "Please, oh please...Daughters of the Emperor, you have to help us." She cries, reaching out a festering hand.
You hear the click of an weapon-safety turning off behind you. "Back the feth off," A PDFer snarls, lasgun primed and aimed. "Another step forward and you go to join your ancestors."
"Hold your fire, trooper," Palais growls. The woman hesitates, glancing back at her sergeant, who gives a careful nod. The PDFer pauses a moment, then lowers her weapon, but the schechin infected got the message. They back away, caught between you and the precinct.
@SirLagginton @Mina
"Absolutely not," Vahn Zayneth says from the shelter of the Taurox, the rain pounding at the steps leading to the back ramp but never quite seeming to make it outside. The Witch-Hunter reaches a hand under his long coat, producing a long scroll. He rolls it out, presenting the hand-writ letters of high gothic, illustrated borders, and purity seals trailing from the scroll's end, bearing benedictions against the Wyrd and wax seals bearing the icon of the Adeptus Ministorum.
"You see this, correct? This is a written contract by the Lord-Cardinal compelling and empowering me to hunt the psyker for the glory of the God-Emperor and His church. That means, my duty is with them," He says, pointing after the rest of your squad. "The people heading toward the psyker. Who might get into a fight with said psyker. Who might kill the psyker. I'm sure you can understand my concerns with this?" He says.
[Charm Test fail, bare. Smoother Talker Reroll: Charm test success, bare]
In the end, fortunately, Ilana is able to convince him otherwise. The Witch-Finder sighs, rolling up the scroll. "Very well, I'll provide transport. But if your Sisters assail the Carmine Tower before we regroup, I will be
very disappointed."
The Guilder mercenaries, for their part, seem almost frustrated at Zayneth's reluctance and are eager to do as you will. Up close, you realize that none of them are the mercenaries you saw the day prior: Perhaps Zayneth hired them fresh whilst his prior employees recovered. Whether that is the case or not, you soon continue on down the road.
The Taurox and its reinforced wheels handle the slick roads and debris with aplomb, navigating past obstacles that may well have halted the noble Viatorem or the PDF military trucks. Nonetheless, the roughness of the terrain does slow it down, and you spend much of your time walking alongside it, if at a quick step. Only occasionally are you required to mount up onto the Taurox's side for a short burst of speed-Perhaps for the best, as the slick hull makes it difficult to hang on even with your mag-locked boots.
Soon enough you come to a halt outside a sprawling warren of shanties, makeshift bridges, and teetering structures built across a narrow in the river. You're frankly shocked that the whole makeshift bridge community isn't washed away in the deluge, but the structures must be better made than they look for they hold together admirably. Crowds of people huddle together under improvised awning, staying close to the warmth of guttering barrel fires that would have assuredly burnt the entire community down if it were made out of real wood rather than flak boards. You dismount, as the mercenaries move into covered positions, eying the crowds warily. Zayneth remains in the Taurox, awaiting a threat worth engaging, whilst his second, the hardened bounty hunter from yesterday walks alongside you with her hand on the hilt of her chainsword.
You do not go unnoticed. Voices raise in excitement and concern both, your auto-senses straining to pick out a few distinct voices.
"It's more of the Sisters! Emperor be praised!"
"The Sisters of Battle? Here? Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"
"Are those the bloody Brass Necks? The feth are those bastards doing 'ere?"
Still, there's none of the tension you'd expect if they'd murdered the Hospitallers, and it soon becomes evident as you make your way through the shanty town and spot the azure armour of the Order of Pure Water. Several Sisters in their armoured habits are organizing an impromptu aid station under the shelter or what looks to have once been part of a boat, now a sort of house. One of the Hospitaller rushs out from the aid station as you approach, waving.
"Emperor be praised, it's good to see you!" She shouts. "We were-" She begins, only for her sabaton to fail to grip on a slick piece of scrap metal. She slips, arms wheeling for a moment before she catches herself-fortunately, far from the ledge.
The bounty hunter tries and fails to stifle a snort, as the Hospitaller regains her balance. "The Emperor protects," The bounty hunter says.
The Hospitaller's cheeks flush beneath her hood, but she nods. "He does. Well ah, like I was saying, good to see you. Our vox has been down all day, and our micro-beads can't seem to get a signal. Come along, the Almoness will want to speak with you."
[Lore (Adepta Sororitas) check Pass]
Roughly equivalent to a Sister-Superior, you recall, usually heading a group of Hospitallers in their duties, though Hospitaller tend to operate a great deal more independently than you and your fellow Militants.
The Almoness is wrists deep in a sedated man's guts when you arrive, her hard features cast in shadow by the bright lumenators overhead. She looks no older than the Hospitaller who greeted you, no doubt the result of rejuvenat. She does not look up as you approach, intent on her duties.
"Apologies for my Constantia's carelessness." You know of Constantias, of course. They are novices, only recently permitted onto the battlefield. "But nevermind that. Where's your Sister-Superior or Eloheim?" She asks.
