Faith and Fire

Shephard · Dec 30, 2019

Zeitgeist Blue said:
"Apologies, Sister-Superior." Eriko clasps her helmet with one armoured hand as if she could do away with the past few memories so easily. They are mudied even now as she forced them aside, the name and the words and singing and dark, corrupt shapes swirling at the edges of her vision...

"A moment of weakness, that is all."

She pushes herself away from the cogitators and moves with Palais to Caelia. There she quickly reports to them the remaining survivors' locations and the information about the Cult of the Old Night glimpsed from the recordings.

"A moment of laxity spawns a lifetime of heresy," Palais warns, her harsh visor staring you down. After a moment, her fingers on her chainsword relax. "In all my years, I've never met anyone with the ability to choose the wrong words quite as well as you, Sister," she teases.

Zeitgeist Blue said:
"At the very least we know there is no love lost between this cult and that of the Choirmen. Discord among them could only be for our gain and so, for the sake of Dreverarch, I hope no reinforcements shall come from beyond this planet." But as lifting to understand this

It is a rote enough checkup and field procedure to ensure that the survivors would be in a state to survivor their exit from the facility. The Schechin disease was still festering in abundance in the pools of liquid and corpse fluids all over the place, but unlike the locals Eriko did not harbour any superstitions about the supposedly improved abilities of the virus.

The two incapacitated officers are both infected with schechin, but should survive with medical treatment. The woman in particular may be lucky enough to escape the worst of the disease. The other man, well. Undoubtedly he will bear the scars for life. It is not as though he can afford flesh rejuvenation. Both are, regardless, in bad shape even if they are stable and will need prolonged treatment,

The remaining officer you examine again for signs of the Schechin virus. He bears none of the symptoms, but there is a non-zero chance he is simply asymptomatic. You take a nasal and saliva swab, but you know from your studies that it is an unreliable method of detecting Schechin. The local medicae will undoubtedly perform a more indepth analysis.

greendoor said:
Caelia glanced down at the crystal mag-fastened to her armor. Dimly lit, same as before.

"You're not a Witch." She agrees, evenly. She gave a glance over "You don't look like a Pellager either."

"It is good you survived." She offered. "Someone has to."

The man's eyes droop downward. "We're all that's left, aren't we?"

The man simply looks at you, utterly exhausted. "I just want to be out of this fething district."

greendoor said:
"The cult stands bolstered in arms." Caelia states, matter of factly. "Perhaps not the ones to hurt us, but other enforcers, the PDF...civilians."

She glanced down at her boltgun. "We'll make them pay."

"The Servitors didn't stop them?" The enforcer asks, shuffling behind you. "They should've engaged anyone that..."

His shadowed eyes regard the emptied arms lockers. "We had access to some explosives. In case someone tried using one of the heavier transport vehicles in a riot. And uh," he rubs his face. "We were holding a boltgun for the governor's Special Services detachment. One of their teams was prepping up for a raid before everything went to shite."

greendoor said:
"I am looking forward to it." Caelia commented. It was true. It was something clean and direct, after this...whatever this had been. Nothing would be better than a fight right now.

(OOC: Use the Surveillance sat)

Zeitgeist Blue said:
Eriko nods her assent. "Good news is welcome and nothing is better than to know our Sisters have their hands busy in their holy work, especially after our sojourn into this den," she gestured at the Enforcer compound. "It would have to be burnt, cleansed and consecrated in turn to remove all stains of disease and corruption. But now Witch-Hunter Zayneth should be pleased to know only Eneresh is left for us."

She reaches up to press a hand against her helmet and begins to send instructions to the orbital station way above them all. "The forces we have should be good enough for the assault, I'd think. But just say the word Sister-Superior and we could see how the siege of Carmine Tower fares."

(OOC: If everyone agrees to it, use the Orbital Surveillance to check how the siege is going either while they are at the Enforcer Compound or when nearer to Vigilance.)

"I am quite pleased," Zayneth replies from the doorway of his armored car, safely out of the rain. "And yes, let's see the situation."

At first glance, the situation looks much the same. Fighting on the walls, surges of bodies being repelled from them, the tower itself shrugging off fire and explosives. On second glance, you see a surprising number of dead bodies in the main court yard and lots of flashes of gunfire. Curious, there doesn't seem to be any significant breaches in the walls? But yes, it's quite clear from the footage that there are people firing upon one another in the main courtyard, and there are a lot of bodies. A fire is raging in one segment of the Carmine Tower through the small windows, but is contained by the building's blast doors. There's no apparent damage to the exterior of the wall, meaning the fire must have started inside the building. Yet, the gang clearly still holds the tower and walls.

Why is there fighting inside the perimeter if the perimeter hasn't been breached?

That's not the only unpleasantry. A pair of Scarab patrol cruisers wheel out of one of the tower's garages, moving up to cover a ganger counter-attack that drives a group of cultists off the walls. Several large explosions go off at once at a concentrated part of the leftmost wall, shaking the wall hard but failing to breach it. Mining explosives, perhaps?

"Sisters, on me. We have a tower to storm," Palais barks out.

@SirLagginton @Mina @Zeitgeist Blue @greendoor

"Forward Chapel Vigilance, this is Squad Palais, friendlies moving up at your rear. Hold your fire."

"Acknowledged, Squad Palais. Weapons holding, the Emperor protects."

After a brutal trek through the rainslick streets, the forward chapel lies ahead. The outpost is set into the remains of an old shopping center, its wide windows shattered and high walls cracked from battles both recent and long ago. Sandbags, barbed wire and plasteel barricades line the main entrance points, and candles and incense burners lie burning in the windows to ensure that no evil may breach the sanctity of the building. It is clear that holy smoke alone hasn't driven back the foe: The surrounding courtyard is a charnel house of collapsed shanties and burst bodies. Broken bodies bearing the regalia of the cult and scattered weapons are everywhere, burning technicals and trucks lighting your way as you stride over to the outpost.

"Welcome, Sisters," Sister-Superior Ophania greets you quietly at the front entrance to the shopping center. Unhelmed, she motions a wordless hand toward the interior of the structure. Cots line the wall of what had once been a picter store, ammo-lockers lying amidst neatly organized tables in a long abandoned cafeteria. A fountain, broken and empty now plays host to a small shrine of Saint Leanna, rose petals sprinkled across the ground to sanctify.

Sisters sit in their positions, their gleaming armor at odds with the crumbling masonry and the piles of bodies outside. Many bear heavy bolters, the iconography of Retributor Squad Galena visible upon their pauldrons and poleyns. Their stocky Retributor-Superior stomps forward, regarding your Sister-Superior for a long moment before her gaze turns to the clanking servitors dragging in arms-lockers behind you.

"Is it Candlemas already?" The woman asks, stepping forward to embrace Palais.

"We bring gifts of great hate," Sister-Superior Palais laughs, returning it. Ophania flits past, directing the servitors with quick gestures and squads of Sisters begin to rearm. As she pulls back from Palais, the Retributor-Superior removes her helmet, revealing hard-edged, bronzed features that remind you greatly of Hellios. She greets each of you in turn with a hearty clasp of the hand and a clap on the pauldron.

"Blessed be. The cultists have been running us ragged all of today and most of yesterday with probing attacks," she says. Something screams in the distance and a moment later a detonation rips up chunks out of the courtyard outside. More shells land, bits of shrapnel pattering off the structure's thick walls. "Ah, and there's the mortars. They've been trying to keep us pinned in here. Even if it's only been through weight of bodies, they've succeeded until now."

"Not enough bolts," Ophania notes dryly as she opens up the first of the arms-lockers and pulls out a belt of bolter shells. "This should be enough."

"Right, but you're here for the tower. Come with me, there's a better vantage upstairs," Galena says, motioning to an crumbling stairway. "Don't worry, it'll hold your weight."

On the top floor in what had once been a scribe's hall, Galena stabs an index finger toward the red-painted tower on the horizon. Tracer fire flashes through the mist and rain, the flash of detonations outlining the building in a burning halo. Bullets flash from towers and firing ports and the shadows of outstretched gargoyles, leering out like daemons through the storm, and the walls are no less awash with blood and light. Darkened figures brawl upon the walls, illuminated by the report of guns and scarlet beams of lasgun fire. Amplified through your auto-senses, you see a figures in the colors of a half dozen different gangs smash into a group of cultists upon the walls, throwing them screaming from the surrounding wall. More grapnels and ladders clatter against the wall, baying heretics throwing themselves forward. Elsewhere a pair of Scarabs advance down the courtyard, their high-beams slicing through the rain. A truck roars forward from the cult's positions and slams against the front gate a moment before it detonates, the roaring fireball shaking the whole wall but failing to even crack the gates. The walls hold.

The tower stands stalwart amidst the storm. Fire and rain alike wash off its flanks harmlessly, a black citadel rising up from the earth. With lights glinting through the scarce windows, it seems to almost burn with an inner fire. Daemonic, perhaps, or holy?

You strain your eyes but from your position, it's hard to get a good look at the courtyard. You see the occasional tracer flying up, and movement here and there but it certainly doesn't look the chaotic nightmare it did on the satellite.

"I know my walls, and I know the cult's not getting through those any time soon," Galena notes. "They don't have the firepower or numbers to breach them. We, on the other hand? We do."

OOC: You'll be accompanied by one squad, either Squad Galena (Retributor) or Squad Ophania (Dominion). The other will guard the base.

greendoor · Jan 4, 2020

Shephard said:
His shadowed eyes regard the emptied arms lockers. "We had access to some explosives. In case someone tried using one of the heavier transport vehicles in a riot. And uh," he rubs his face. "We were holding a boltgun for the governor's Special Services detachment. One of their teams was prepping up for a raid before everything went to shite."

Caelia sighed internally, not letting it escape her helmet. "We will have to keep an eye out for such a relic. And the explosives." She said out loud.

Shephard said:
"I am quite pleased," Zayneth replies from the doorway of his armored car, safely out of the rain. "And yes, let's see the situation."

At first glance, the situation looks much the same. Fighting on the walls, surges of bodies being repelled from them, the tower itself shrugging off fire and explosives. On second glance, you see a surprising number of dead bodies in the main court yard and lots of flashes of gunfire. Curious, there doesn't seem to be any significant breaches in the walls? But yes, it's quite clear from the footage that there are people firing upon one another in the main courtyard, and there are a lot of bodies. A fire is raging in one segment of the Carmine Tower through the small windows, but is contained by the building's blast doors. There's no apparent damage to the exterior of the wall, meaning the fire must have started inside the building. Yet, the gang clearly still holds the tower and walls.

Why is there fighting inside the perimeter if the perimeter hasn't been breached?

That's not the only unpleasantry. A pair of Scarab patrol cruisers wheel out of one of the tower's garages, moving up to cover a ganger counter-attack that drives a group of cultists off the walls. Several large explosions go off at once at a concentrated part of the leftmost wall, shaking the wall hard but failing to breach it. Mining explosives, perhaps?

"Sisters, on me. We have a tower to storm," Palais barks out.

"Tunnels? Drop Troops? Internal factionism?" Caelia offered her guesses. "It matters little but that our time lies short." She shrugged.

Shephard said:
"We bring gifts of great hate," Sister-Superior Palais laughs, returning it. Ophania flits past, directing the servitors with quick gestures and squads of Sisters begin to rearm. As she pulls back from Palais, the Retributor-Superior removes her helmet, revealing hard-edged, bronzed features that remind you greatly of Hellios. She greets each of you in turn with a hearty clasp of the hand and a clap on the pauldron.

"Blessed be. The cultists have been running us ragged all of today and most of yesterday with probing attacks," she says. Something screams in the distance and a moment later a detonation rips up chunks out of the courtyard outside. More shells land, bits of shrapnel pattering off the structure's thick walls. "Ah, and there's the mortars. They've been trying to keep us pinned in here. Even if it's only been through weight of bodies, they've succeeded until now."

"Not enough bolts," Ophania notes dryly as she opens up the first of the arms-lockers and pulls out a belt of bolter shells. "This should be enough."

"Right, but you're here for the tower. Come with me, there's a better vantage upstairs," Galena says, motioning to an crumbling stairway. "Don't worry, it'll hold your weight."

On the top floor in what had once been a scribe's hall, Galena stabs an index finger toward the red-painted tower on the horizon. Tracer fire flashes through the mist and rain, the flash of detonations outlining the building in a burning halo. Bullets flash from towers and firing ports and the shadows of outstretched gargoyles, leering out like daemons through the storm, and the walls are no less awash with blood and light. Darkened figures brawl upon the walls, illuminated by the report of guns and scarlet beams of lasgun fire. Amplified through your auto-senses, you see a figures in the colors of a half dozen different gangs smash into a group of cultists upon the walls, throwing them screaming from the surrounding wall. More grapnels and ladders clatter against the wall, baying heretics throwing themselves forward. Elsewhere a pair of Scarabs advance down the courtyard, their high-beams slicing through the rain. A truck roars forward from the cult's positions and slams against the front gate a moment before it detonates, the roaring fireball shaking the whole wall but failing to even crack the gates. The walls hold.

The tower stands stalwart amidst the storm. Fire and rain alike wash off its flanks harmlessly, a black citadel rising up from the earth. With lights glinting through the scarce windows, it seems to almost burn with an inner fire. Daemonic, perhaps, or holy?

You strain your eyes but from your position, it's hard to get a good look at the courtyard. You see the occasional tracer flying up, and movement here and there but it certainly doesn't look the chaotic nightmare it did on the satellite.

"I know my walls, and I know the cult's not getting through those any time soon," Galena notes. "They don't have the firepower or numbers to breach them. We, on the other hand? We do."

OOC: You'll be accompanied by one squad, either Squad Galena (Retributor) or Squad Ophania (Dominion). The other will guard the base.

Caelia would be glad to have Dominions at their side for this assault. No offense meant to Sister Superior Galena, but her squad would be much better suited to defending the post, not close in assault.

She didn't voice that preference of course-she more than trusted the Sister Superior to see the correct choice.

However, how to get in was more of a concern.

"Perhaps we can threaten a combined Thunderhawk run and Melta charge attack on the gate to get the Gang to let us in?" Caelia offered. "The Gate sentries will want the gate intact, and we don't want cultists following us in. Eliminate the surrounding cultists, make it clear we have the power to take the fortification by firepower if we wish..."

Zeitgeist Blue · Jan 4, 2020

Shephard said:
"A moment of laxity spawns a lifetime of heresy," Palais warns, her harsh visor staring you down. After a moment, her fingers on her chainsword relax. "In all my years, I've never met anyone with the ability to choose the wrong words quite as well as you, Sister," she teases.

"As I have been told time and time again." Eriko rubs the back of her neck, clearly flustered underneath her helm. "'Tis why I prefer the structure of formal affairs. One need only remember the steps to the dance and that is the first step to an impressive performance."

Shephard said:
"Forward Chapel Vigilance, this is Squad Palais, friendlies moving up at your rear. Hold your fire."

"Acknowledged, Squad Palais. Weapons holding, the Emperor protects."

After a brutal trek through the rainslick streets, the forward chapel lies ahead. The outpost is set into the remains of an old shopping center, its wide windows shattered and high walls cracked from battles both recent and long ago. Sandbags, barbed wire and plasteel barricades line the main entrance points, and candles and incense burners lie burning in the windows to ensure that no evil may breach the sanctity of the building. It is clear that holy smoke alone hasn't driven back the foe: The surrounding courtyard is a charnel house of collapsed shanties and burst bodies. Broken bodies bearing the regalia of the cult and scattered weapons are everywhere, burning technicals and trucks lighting your way as you stride over to the outpost.

"Welcome, Sisters," Sister-Superior Ophania greets you quietly at the front entrance to the shopping center. Unhelmed, she motions a wordless hand toward the interior of the structure. Cots line the wall of what had once been a picter store, ammo-lockers lying amidst neatly organized tables in a long abandoned cafeteria. A fountain, broken and empty now plays host to a small shrine of Saint Leanna, rose petals sprinkled across the ground to sanctify.

Upon seeing the phlegmatic Sister-Superior waiting for them at the shopping center's front entrance, Eriko undons her helmet with a hiss of pressurized air and gives Ophania a smile. The unassuming Sister was among the first to interact with Eriko among the Mission's Sisters. And after Eriko's sparring match with Caelia, she had been there to help instruct the former Hospitaller on the ways of the sword, a skill Eriko would very much like to improve on.

Seeing as both of them gravitated towards the sparring rooms, it was only natural.

"Not much trouble, I hope, Sister-Superior?" She greets back. "I hear elites of the Cult of Old Night have been prowling about the area. We have not encountered any on our way here so maybe they are focused entirely on the Carmine Tower?"

Shephard said:
On the top floor in what had once been a scribe's hall, Galena stabs an index finger toward the red-painted tower on the horizon. Tracer fire flashes through the mist and rain, the flash of detonations outlining the building in a burning halo. Bullets flash from towers and firing ports and the shadows of outstretched gargoyles, leering out like daemons through the storm, and the walls are no less awash with blood and light. Darkened figures brawl upon the walls, illuminated by the report of guns and scarlet beams of lasgun fire. Amplified through your auto-senses, you see a figures in the colors of a half dozen different gangs smash into a group of cultists upon the walls, throwing them screaming from the surrounding wall. More grapnels and ladders clatter against the wall, baying heretics throwing themselves forward. Elsewhere a pair of Scarabs advance down the courtyard, their high-beams slicing through the rain. A truck roars forward from the cult's positions and slams against the front gate a moment before it detonates, the roaring fireball shaking the whole wall but failing to even crack the gates. The walls hold.

The tower stands stalwart amidst the storm. Fire and rain alike wash off its flanks harmlessly, a black citadel rising up from the earth. With lights glinting through the scarce windows, it seems to almost burn with an inner fire. Daemonic, perhaps, or holy?

You strain your eyes but from your position, it's hard to get a good look at the courtyard. You see the occasional tracer flying up, and movement here and there but it certainly doesn't look the chaotic nightmare it did on the satellite.

"I know my walls, and I know the cult's not getting through those any time soon," Galena notes. "They don't have the firepower or numbers to breach them. We, on the other hand? We do."

"Curious."

Eriko points a finger at the courtyard.

"The fire from within the Carmine tower is still there, and when last we requested for Orbital Surveillance there was fighting within the courtyard. Do you have any idea why there is fighting inside?" She half-faces Galena as she asks the question. "I half expect either the cult elites to be behind that or some form of infighting."

"We brought melta guns inside the arms lockers, yes," she says with a nod. "With enough shots we could breach their walls to find out."

greendoor said:
Caelia would be glad to have Dominions at their side for this assault. No offense meant to Sister Superior Galena, but her squad would be much better suited to defending the post, not close in assault.

She didn't voice that preference of course-she more than trusted the Sister Superior to see the correct choice.

However, how to get in was more of a concern.

"Perhaps we can threaten a combined Thunderhawk run and Melta charge attack on the gate to get the Gang to let us in?" Caelia offered. "The Gate sentries will want the gate intact, and we don't want cultists following us in. Eliminate the surrounding cultists, make it clear we have the power to take the fortification by firepower if we wish..."

"Why that's a fine plan, Sister." Eriko eyes glitter and she latches on to Caelia's idea with the enthusiasm of a novitiate given her first bolter to fire. "Straightforward. Not many moving parts to go wrong. And besides those, our dialogue with the notables of this city's riot speaks towards our goodwill. Clearly Kristold Lumenator, Pater Suriel Tibim, and Eriente Bluejacket walked away happier from us. We bear no ill will against the rioters lest they bar us from our quarry, and they know full well us breaching their walls would be disastrous for them."

She turns towards Galena. "Sister-Superior Galena, do you perhaps have a laud hailer lying about? If the gangers are to hear us above the din of battle, we need a way to speak louder, or closer to them if not."

(OOC: Get a laud hailer if possible. I vote for Ophania's Dominion-Squad to come with us.)

SirLagginton · Jan 5, 2020

Shephard said:
It's difficult to tell someone's expression when they've replaced their face with metal, but years of serving alongside armoured sisters have taught you much about body cues. Like the slight slump in Laroe's shoulders indicating his disappointment.

"Well, I certainly suppose it has been difficult maneuvering the trucks through this area. Dismounting seems like a right proper idea, milady!" he begins but twists his head as another PDF trooper runs over and hastily salutes. "What is it, trooper?"

"Uh. Sergeant Acadius' truck just uh, bent an axle, sir." The PDF gestures down the street at a second truck, surrounded by a rather flustered looking group of soldiers and a red in the face NCO.

The lieutenant waves a hand dismissively. "Well, if that isn't a sign I don't know what is. We were going to have the unit dismount and continue on foot regardless. Spread the word, trooper, that we're following the Sisters into the fray!" Laroe says. He half-turns to a man in a veteran sergeant's stripes. "Oh. Do call for a tech-priest, Sergeant-Major, and remind me to have the good sergeant and his driver flogged later."

He turns back to you. "Well. Let's go give these cretinous heretics what-for, no?"

Ilana paused momentarily at the mention of the planned flogging, glancing to her side at the enthusiastic lieutenant. She couldn't help but frown, surely that was excessively for a easy to make misstep in the field? Then again, she supposed that the umbrage of the machine spirit at its mistreatment should also be taken to account, and regardless, the spirit of the Decree Passive would surely frown on telling this PDF officer how he commanded his men, no matter how disagreeable she found it on a personal level. It was a poor start, yet it wouldn't do to judge before they even had time to shed the blood of the heretic.

She nodded. "I am Sister Ilana of Squad Palais. Your promptness is appreciated lieutenant regardless of what ill luck seeks to delay from the heretics' retribution. The previous detachments of the Dreverarch PDF we have served with had done so with honour, we trust that you will meet those high expectations as they have done."

Zeitgeist Blue said:
"Not much trouble, I hope, Sister-Superior?" She greets back. "I hear elites of the Cult of Old Night have been prowling about the area. We have not encountered any on our way here so maybe they are focused entirely on the Carmine Tower?"

Ilana snorted as she shifted to turn at Eriko at the mention of the Cult elites. "I regret that we have no been able to our just retribution on them at the incident at the bridge. To think that they were nearly in position to drop that bridge on us! Emperor be kind we shall settle scores with them later."

Shephard said:
"Forward Chapel Vigilance, this is Squad Palais, friendlies moving up at your rear. Hold your fire."

"Acknowledged, Squad Palais. Weapons holding, the Emperor protects."

After a brutal trek through the rainslick streets, the forward chapel lies ahead. The outpost is set into the remains of an old shopping center, its wide windows shattered and high walls cracked from battles both recent and long ago. Sandbags, barbed wire and plasteel barricades line the main entrance points, and candles and incense burners lie burning in the windows to ensure that no evil may breach the sanctity of the building. It is clear that holy smoke alone hasn't driven back the foe: The surrounding courtyard is a charnel house of collapsed shanties and burst bodies. Broken bodies bearing the regalia of the cult and scattered weapons are everywhere, burning technicals and trucks lighting your way as you stride over to the outpost.

"Welcome, Sisters," Sister-Superior Ophania greets you quietly at the front entrance to the shopping center. Unhelmed, she motions a wordless hand toward the interior of the structure. Cots line the wall of what had once been a picter store, ammo-lockers lying amidst neatly organized tables in a long abandoned cafeteria. A fountain, broken and empty now plays host to a small shrine of Saint Leanna, rose petals sprinkled across the ground to sanctify.

Sisters sit in their positions, their gleaming armor at odds with the crumbling masonry and the piles of bodies outside. Many bear heavy bolters, the iconography of Retributor Squad Galena visible upon their pauldrons and poleyns. Their stocky Retributor-Superior stomps forward, regarding your Sister-Superior for a long moment before her gaze turns to the clanking servitors dragging in arms-lockers behind you.

"Is it Candlemas already?" The woman asks, stepping forward to embrace Palais.

"We bring gifts of great hate," Sister-Superior Palais laughs, returning it. Ophania flits past, directing the servitors with quick gestures and squads of Sisters begin to rearm. As she pulls back from Palais, the Retributor-Superior removes her helmet, revealing hard-edged, bronzed features that remind you greatly of Hellios. She greets each of you in turn with a hearty clasp of the hand and a clap on the pauldron.

"Blessed be. The cultists have been running us ragged all of today and most of yesterday with probing attacks," she says. Something screams in the distance and a moment later a detonation rips up chunks out of the courtyard outside. More shells land, bits of shrapnel pattering off the structure's thick walls. "Ah, and there's the mortars. They've been trying to keep us pinned in here. Even if it's only been through weight of bodies, they've succeeded until now."

"Not enough bolts," Ophania notes dryly as she opens up the first of the arms-lockers and pulls out a belt of bolter shells. "This should be enough."

"Right, but you're here for the tower. Come with me, there's a better vantage upstairs," Galena says, motioning to an crumbling stairway. "Don't worry, it'll hold your weight."

On the top floor in what had once been a scribe's hall, Galena stabs an index finger toward the red-painted tower on the horizon. Tracer fire flashes through the mist and rain, the flash of detonations outlining the building in a burning halo. Bullets flash from towers and firing ports and the shadows of outstretched gargoyles, leering out like daemons through the storm, and the walls are no less awash with blood and light. Darkened figures brawl upon the walls, illuminated by the report of guns and scarlet beams of lasgun fire. Amplified through your auto-senses, you see a figures in the colors of a half dozen different gangs smash into a group of cultists upon the walls, throwing them screaming from the surrounding wall. More grapnels and ladders clatter against the wall, baying heretics throwing themselves forward. Elsewhere a pair of Scarabs advance down the courtyard, their high-beams slicing through the rain. A truck roars forward from the cult's positions and slams against the front gate a moment before it detonates, the roaring fireball shaking the whole wall but failing to even crack the gates. The walls hold.

The tower stands stalwart amidst the storm. Fire and rain alike wash off its flanks harmlessly, a black citadel rising up from the earth. With lights glinting through the scarce windows, it seems to almost burn with an inner fire. Daemonic, perhaps, or holy?

You strain your eyes but from your position, it's hard to get a good look at the courtyard. You see the occasional tracer flying up, and movement here and there but it certainly doesn't look the chaotic nightmare it did on the satellite.

"I know my walls, and I know the cult's not getting through those any time soon," Galena notes. "They don't have the firepower or numbers to breach them. We, on the other hand? We do."

OOC: You'll be accompanied by one squad, either Squad Galena (Retributor) or Squad Ophania (Dominion). The other will guard the base.

"So many heretics to slay." Ilana commented cheerily as she idly checked the ammunition feed of her bolter. "It feels like Sanguinala already. And if the walls are in no danger of falling any time soon, then so much the better, as we can take our time eliminating the heretics before we move to confront the witchspawn." Her face darkened at the thought of the hated witch, but the moment passed as she shook it off. "Regardless of cult dynamics, the way forward seems quite simple to me. There are heretics that wish to reach the witchspawn before us. We need to make sure that there are no heretics that are able to reach the witchspawn before us. Deal with them and we can start taking the meltas to the walls."

Mina · Jan 5, 2020

Shephard said:
"Welcome, Sisters," Sister-Superior Ophania greets you quietly at the front entrance to the shopping center. Unhelmed, she motions a wordless hand toward the interior of the structure. Cots line the wall of what had once been a picter store, ammo-lockers lying amidst neatly organized tables in a long abandoned cafeteria. A fountain, broken and empty now plays host to a small shrine of Saint Leanna, rose petals sprinkled across the ground to sanctify.

Sisters sit in their positions, their gleaming armor at odds with the crumbling masonry and the piles of bodies outside. Many bear heavy bolters, the iconography of Retributor Squad Galena visible upon their pauldrons and poleyns. Their stocky Retributor-Superior stomps forward, regarding your Sister-Superior for a long moment before her gaze turns to the clanking servitors dragging in arms-lockers behind you.

"Is it Candlemas already?" The woman asks, stepping forward to embrace Palais.

"We bring gifts of great hate," Sister-Superior Palais laughs, returning it. Ophania flits past, directing the servitors with quick gestures and squads of Sisters begin to rearm. As she pulls back from Palais, the Retributor-Superior removes her helmet, revealing hard-edged, bronzed features that remind you greatly of Hellios. She greets each of you in turn with a hearty clasp of the hand and a clap on the pauldron.

Maria remained formal and a little stiff as the sisters superior greeted one another and bantered. She was itching for the assault, every nerve, every muscle lulled in to false relaxation by measured breathing for when she'd need them most. There was perhaps a little fragility to her stiffness however. Brittle in the face of veterancy, specialists, and the memory of the quiet skepticism at the riverside aid-post, she knew that once they got moving again, once there wasn't time to think of such foolishness it would all be fine. The waves of combat and hate would wash her clean.

greendoor said:
"Perhaps we can threaten a combined Thunderhawk run and Melta charge attack on the gate to get the Gang to let us in?" Caelia offered. "The Gate sentries will want the gate intact, and we don't want cultists following us in. Eliminate the surrounding cultists, make it clear we have the power to take the fortification by firepower if we wish..."

"If they comply we gain entry, if not and we force our way in we maintain a breach we can control from the courtyard while a team assaults up the tower. It seems sound, very few exciting ways for it to go wrong at least."

Shephard · Jan 6, 2020

SirLagginton said:
Ilana paused momentarily at the mention of the planned flogging, glancing to her side at the enthusiastic lieutenant. She couldn't help but frown, surely that was excessively for a easy to make misstep in the field? Then again, she supposed that the umbrage of the machine spirit at its mistreatment should also be taken to account, and regardless, the spirit of the Decree Passive would surely frown on telling this PDF officer how he commanded his men, no matter how disagreeable she found it on a personal level. It was a poor start, yet it wouldn't do to judge before they even had time to shed the blood of the heretic.

She nodded. "I am Sister Ilana of Squad Palais. Your promptness is appreciated lieutenant regardless of what ill luck seeks to delay from the heretics' retribution. The previous detachments of the Dreverarch PDF we have served with had done so with honour, we trust that you will meet those high expectations as they have done."

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Sister Ilana. Have no fear, milady, you will certainly not be disappointed by our skill at arms," the officer replies, puffing out their chest.

Zeitgeist Blue said:
"As I have been told time and time again." Eriko rubs the back of her neck, clearly flustered underneath her helm. "'Tis why I prefer the structure of formal affairs. One need only remember the steps to the dance and that is the first step to an impressive performance."

Palais stops mid-stride at that, half turning toward you. "You like formal affairs? Are you sure you weren't a famulus?" she teases. It gets your thoughts off what you saw.

Zeitgeist Blue said:
"Not much trouble, I hope, Sister-Superior?" She greets back. "I hear elites of the Cult of Old Night have been prowling about the area. We have not encountered any on our way here so maybe they are focused entirely on the Carmine Tower?"

Sister-Superior Ophania turns wordlessly at your question. She shakes her head, motioning at the piles of corpses and broken vehicles outside. More target practice than trouble. She cocks her head at the question of the elites. "When we advanced only," she says drily. "They'd harass us."

One of her Sisters speaks up. "Otherwise it's just cult dregs. More than we had ammo to spare. Much obliged, Sisters." She smiles, loading fresh cartridges into the dozen empty magazines at her waist.

Zeitgeist Blue said:
"Curious."

Eriko points a finger at the courtyard.

"The fire from within the Carmine tower is still there, and when last we requested for Orbital Surveillance there was fighting within the courtyard. Do you have any idea why there is fighting inside?" She half-faces Galena as she asks the question. "I half expect either the cult elites to be behind that or some form of infighting."

"We brought melta guns inside the arms lockers, yes," she says with a nod. "With enough shots we could breach their walls to find out."

"Truth be told, I took it as idiots firing their guns into the air. They do that, for some fool reason," Galena replies. "If there's fighting in the courtyard, that's odd. Maybe a few cultists managed to slip past the walls?"

"Sorcery?" Ophania suggests. A few Sisters make the sign of the aquila at that.

greendoor said:
"Perhaps we can threaten a combined Thunderhawk run and Melta charge attack on the gate to get the Gang to let us in?" Caelia offered. "The Gate sentries will want the gate intact, and we don't want cultists following us in. Eliminate the surrounding cultists, make it clear we have the power to take the fortification by firepower if we wish..."

Zeitgeist Blue said:
"Why that's a fine plan, Sister." Eriko eyes glitter and she latches on to Caelia's idea with the enthusiasm of a novitiate given her first bolter to fire. "Straightforward. Not many moving parts to go wrong. And besides those, our dialogue with the notables of this city's riot speaks towards our goodwill. Clearly Kristold Lumenator, Pater Suriel Tibim, and Eriente Bluejacket walked away happier from us. We bear no ill will against the rioters lest they bar us from our quarry, and they know full well us breaching their walls would be disastrous for them."

She turns towards Galena. "Sister-Superior Galena, do you perhaps have a laud hailer lying about? If the gangers are to hear us above the din of battle, we need a way to speak louder, or closer to them if not."

(OOC: Get a laud hailer if possible. I vote for Ophania's Dominion-Squad to come with us.)

SirLagginton said:
"So many heretics to slay." Ilana commented cheerily as she idly checked the ammunition feed of her bolter. "It feels like Sanguinala already. And if the walls are in no danger of falling any time soon, then so much the better, as we can take our time eliminating the heretics before we move to confront the witchspawn." Her face darkened at the thought of the hated witch, but the moment passed as she shook it off. "Regardless of cult dynamics, the way forward seems quite simple to me. There are heretics that wish to reach the witchspawn before us. We need to make sure that there are no heretics that are able to reach the witchspawn before us. Deal with them and we can start taking the meltas to the walls."

Mina said:
"If they comply we gain entry, if not and we force our way in we maintain a breach we can control from the courtyard while a team assaults up the tower. It seems sound, very few exciting ways for it to go wrong at least."

"Ah yes. You did calm down the riots," Galena says, motioning a hand toward Palais. She glances at the fires raging across the district. "The worst of them, anyway. Almost reminds me of our Famulous Sisters."

Palis nods her head. "Well, I haven't near their patience. We'll ask the gate guards nicely, and if they say no, we burn it all down."

"Agreed. My squad will accompany yours," Ophania says. Her Dominions begin to perk up, flamers and melta guns at the ready.

Galena waves a hand. "Very well then. We'll hold the fort, and pray for your victory. The Emperor protects!"

"The Emperor protects," Palais replies, donning her helmet anew.

Your Sisters had tried to force the gate before, but they had been forced back. But now they are resupplied, supported by you, and have back-up in the form of an entire PDF platoon and an armored fighting vehicle. The idea that you can be resisted is farcical.

There's a few mortar shells and RPGs that burst before your advance, the blasts washing over you to no real effect. Even the PDF weather the storm, with only minor losses. Flares light up the storming sky, haloing you in a white glow as sniper rounds and tracer fire glances harmlessly off your plate. A few cultists try to make a stand, but it's a doomed effort that leaves naught but charnel in your wake. Dominion-Superior Ophania takes the lead, an Eviscerator held in her power armored hands. Heavy stubber rounds from a gun-truck spatteroff her plate just as the rain did as she ran forward, wordlessly bearing that blade down upon a hastily reversing gun truck. The howling blade hacks through the engine block. Her second stroke rips through the driver's compartment, driver and passenger. The gunner tries to dismount, but barely makes it three meters before she too has been cut down.

A heavily armored truck is the next vehicle that they throw at you. A pair of melta shots lance out, and it goes up in flames. It is no real fight, and soon the heretics are fleeing from you as you approach the gate. The PDF forms in a defensive cordon around the gate, trading desultory fire with guerillas in the rain.

The gate yawns before you, its guard towers blackened by flames and mutilated by spikes and graffiti, rain pouring from it in torrents. Heavy stubbers sweep over you from those towers, tattooed men and women in stained coats staring down at the hulking figures approaching their gate with obvious fear, their faces slick with water and sweat.

"Who the warp are you?" Some idiot calls out from the gatehouse.

"I am Sister-Superior Palais of the Adepta Sororitas. I would appreciate it if you opened these gates," Palais calls out.

There's a brief pause at that before another voice stammers out. "V-Vennedes said to let no one in!"

"Well, I guess if Vennedes says no, we'll just go home," Palais says, voice dry as a desert.

"R-really?"

"No," she intones. You hear Sister Katia laugh through her helmet at that, Sister Gwynais snorting as she prepares her flamer, a few others chuckling. Palais waves at the four of you. "Sisters, remind me: We were going to give them how many chances before we brought this wall down with the full wrath of the Sisterhood?"

greendoor · Jan 8, 2020

Shephard said:
"Who the warp are you?" Some idiot calls out from the gatehouse.

"I am Sister-Superior Palais of the Adepta Sororitas. I would appreciate it if you opened these gates," Palais calls out.

There's a brief pause at that before another voice stammers out. "V-Vennedes said to let no one in!"

"Well, I guess if Vennedes says no, we'll just go home," Palais says, voice dry as a desert.

"R-really?"

"No," she intones. You hear Sister Katia laugh through her helmet at that, Sister Gwynais snorting as she prepares her flamer, a few others chuckling. Palais waves at the four of you. "Sisters, remind me: We were going to give them how many chances before we brought this wall down with the full wrath of the Sisterhood?"

"I recall it was one, Sister Superior." Caelia says, casting her voice so they might possibly hear her above. "If we are feeling merciful and they apologize for this delay, perhaps we might give them another chance?"

Zeitgeist Blue · Jan 10, 2020

Shephard said:
Palais stops mid-stride at that, half turning toward you. "You like formal affairs? Are you sure you weren't a famulus?" she teases. It gets your thoughts off what you saw.

Eriko gives a weak chuckle, more glad at getting her mind from the console than anything, and soon she steps away from the console. "Perhaps in another life. Did I mention that I was given a choice between the Orders Hospitaller and the Orders Famulous? I chose the former, obviously, but I still sometimes wonder how it would be like serving at a noble's court instead of warzone after warzone."

Shephard said:
Your Sisters had tried to force the gate before, but they had been forced back. But now they are resupplied, supported by you, and have back-up in the form of an entire PDF platoon and an armored fighting vehicle. The idea that you can be resisted is farcical.

There's a few mortar shells and RPGs that burst before your advance, the blasts washing over you to no real effect. Even the PDF weather the storm, with only minor losses. Flares light up the storming sky, haloing you in a white glow as sniper rounds and tracer fire glances harmlessly off your plate. A few cultists try to make a stand, but it's a doomed effort that leaves naught but charnel in your wake. Dominion-Superior Ophania takes the lead, an Eviscerator held in her power armored hands. Heavy stubber rounds from a gun-truck spatteroff her plate just as the rain did as she ran forward, wordlessly bearing that blade down upon a hastily reversing gun truck. The howling blade hacks through the engine block. Her second stroke rips through the driver's compartment, driver and passenger. The gunner tries to dismount, but barely makes it three meters before she too has been cut down.

A heavily armored truck is the next vehicle that they throw at you. A pair of melta shots lance out, and it goes up in flames. It is no real fight, and soon the heretics are fleeing from you as you approach the gate. The PDF forms in a defensive cordon around the gate, trading desultory fire with guerillas in the rain.

The gate yawns before you, its guard towers blackened by flames and mutilated by spikes and graffiti, rain pouring from it in torrents. Heavy stubbers sweep over you from those towers, tattooed men and women in stained coats staring down at the hulking figures approaching their gate with obvious fear, their faces slick with water and sweat.

"Who the warp are you?" Some idiot calls out from the gatehouse.

"I am Sister-Superior Palais of the Adepta Sororitas. I would appreciate it if you opened these gates," Palais calls out.

There's a brief pause at that before another voice stammers out. "V-Vennedes said to let no one in!"

"Well, I guess if Vennedes says no, we'll just go home," Palais says, voice dry as a desert.

"R-really?"

"No," she intones. You hear Sister Katia laugh through her helmet at that, Sister Gwynais snorting as she prepares her flamer, a few others chuckling. Palais waves at the four of you. "Sisters, remind me: We were going to give them how many chances before we brought this wall down with the full wrath of the Sisterhood?"

greendoor said:
"I recall it was one, Sister Superior." Caelia says, casting her voice so they might possibly hear her above. "If we are feeling merciful and they apologize for this delay, perhaps we might give them another chance?"

Nothing the cult could throw at them served even as a speedbump for their advance. Bolters boom and their scarlet plates flash amid the rain, and soon they found themselves in front of the gates of the Carmine Tower compound. A platoon of PDF troopers and two squads of heavily armed and armoured Sisters of Battle, easily and calmly standing around as if they were at a park instead of a battlefield.

They were confident. They had every right to be.

Then some fool of a soul calls out from the battlements and exchanges words with Sister-Superior Palais. Eriko chuckles despite herself though she falls silent when Caelia responds to Palais' question.

Smiling slightly, Eriko steps forward as Caelia finishes, motioning with her hand to catch Palais' attention.

"If you will allow me, Sister-Superior."

Then she looks up at the battlements where the gangers stay waiting for them. "We come as guests of Vennedes! Let us in and the arms of the Sisters of Battle and their allies shall bring you no harm! The Cult of the Old Night is our enemy both!" And here she pauses, as if giving her audience time to digest her words. "Keep us standing in the rain one minute longer however and we shall carve our way in, then Vennedes shall be more than displeased. Your choice and make it quick!"

She steps back and looks at her Sisters bearing meltaguns.

"If ever they remain stubborn, who will do the honors?"

(OOC: Fellowship Roll? Fel 38

Chosen From Among Billions: An Imperial World character reduces insanity gain by 1 to a minimum of 1 and gain the Peer (Administratum, Aristocracy, Military or Ecclesiarchy) talent. You may reroll failed fellowship tests with common Imperial citizens and anyone you have a Peer talent of. )

SirLagginton · Jan 14, 2020

Shephard said:
"No," she intones. You hear Sister Katia laugh through her helmet at that, Sister Gwynais snorting as she prepares her flamer, a few others chuckling. Palais waves at the four of you. "Sisters, remind me: We were going to give them how many chances before we brought this wall down with the full wrath of the Sisterhood?"[/Hr]

"Hmmmmmmmm," Ilana hummed daintily in a way that was mockingly at odds with the hulking set of power armour she was encased in. "It is likely that it will take multiple melta shots before we fully take the gate. So in light of the constraints present by physical reality surely we can afford to be generous enough to give them as many opportunities it takes for the melta to penetrate the walls to repent in barring the holy mandate entrusted to the Order?"

Shephard · Jan 15, 2020

greendoor said:
"I recall it was one, Sister Superior." Caelia says, casting her voice so they might possibly hear her above. "If we are feeling merciful and they apologize for this delay, perhaps we might give them another chance?"

SirLagginton said:
"Hmmmmmmmm," Ilana hummed daintily in a way that was mockingly at odds with the hulking set of power armour she was encased in. "It is likely that it will take multiple melta shots before we fully take the gate. So in light of the constraints present by physical reality surely we can afford to be generous enough to give them as many opportunities it takes for the melta to penetrate the walls to repent in barring the holy mandate entrusted to the Order?"

Zeitgeist Blue said:
Nothing the cult could throw at them served even as a speedbump for their advance. Bolters boom and their scarlet plates flash amid the rain, and soon they found themselves in front of the gates of the Carmine Tower compound. A platoon of PDF troopers and two squads of heavily armed and armoured Sisters of Battle, easily and calmly standing around as if they were at a park instead of a battlefield.

They were confident. They had every right to be.

Then some fool of a soul calls out from the battlements and exchanges words with Sister-Superior Palais. Eriko chuckles despite herself though she falls silent when Caelia responds to Palais' question.

Smiling slightly, Eriko steps forward as Caelia finishes, motioning with her hand to catch Palais' attention.

"If you will allow me, Sister-Superior."

Then she looks up at the battlements where the gangers stay waiting for them. "We come as guests of Vennedes! Let us in and the arms of the Sisters of Battle and their allies shall bring you no harm! The Cult of the Old Night is our enemy both!" And here she pauses, as if giving her audience time to digest her words. "Keep us standing in the rain one minute longer however and we shall carve our way in, then Vennedes shall be more than displeased. Your choice and make it quick!"

She steps back and looks at her Sisters bearing meltaguns.

"If ever they remain stubborn, who will do the honors?"

(OOC: Fellowship Roll? Fel 38

Chosen From Among Billions: An Imperial World character reduces insanity gain by 1 to a minimum of 1 and gain the Peer (Administratum, Aristocracy, Military or Ecclesiarchy) talent. You may reroll failed fellowship tests with common Imperial citizens and anyone you have a Peer talent of. )

One can almost hear some of the Dominions giggling as they ready their melta-guns, weapons igniting and ready to start reduce the fortifications to nothing more than molten slag.

"Uh, no-no need for that! We'll open the gates! Right?" The man calls back. There is a pregnant pause, followed by hushed whispering. Someone shouts, "Open the bloody gates!"

Someone shouts back. "No, they'll kill us all!"

Sounds of a scuffle follow afterward, several gunshots ringing out. Finally, a man topples from one of the towers with a high pitched scream and belly-flops onto the hard rockcrete with a sickeningly wet thud. Then the gates begin to grind open.

An assortment of scum awaits beyond the gate. Gene-bulked brutes in scraps of makeshift plate armor stand alongside terrified looking shopkeepers barely able to lift the club in their hands. Gangers, militiamen, civilians all intermixed and all equally staring with wide eyes and shaking frames. Ophania leads the advance through the gates, red-tinged water dripping from her eviscerator. The rest of the two squads follow her example, marching through imperiously, and Vennedes' makeshift coalition scatters before them. The PDF follow suit, swiftly marching through the gate in organized ranks. The gates slowly shut behind them with a loud clamor, as two gangers drag a woman missing her leg down the gate ramps.

The court yard is a mess. Even before the warzone its foundation was cracked, old wrecks gathering rust and weeds littering the yard. Ramshackle amps and makeshift fortifications stretch in every direction, rebuild and torn down a dozen times before. Now it's hellish. Burst promethium fires burn so intensely even the pouring rain can't put it out, filling the air with thick-black smoke. Craters are punched into the rockcrete from errant mortars and rockets, rusting cargo containers torn open, vehicles toppled, fortifications shattered. The chaos isn't just from the bombardment alone, as there are clear signs of fighting in the courtyard, albeit limited. You see a few scattered bodies, and an idling technical, its windshield shattered by gunfire and driver slumped dead against the wheel.

Palais gestures at a large man whose impressive tattoos and augmetic jaw set him apart from the rest of the scum, as does the rusted chainsword in his hands.

"What's happening here? Did some of the Cult get inside?"

The man's jaw twitches as he meets Palais' gaze. He glances back at the fire burning within the Carmine tower, the smoke pouring through the fortified windows. He shrugs helplessly. "Na really fosho, amash probably, ya. Sorry, sésata," he says in some gutter tongue. There are faint murmurs of agreement.

"Some o' th' lads weren't roight in th' head, yah!" Someone else calls out.

"The Blue Fangs and the Hounds of the Angel were killing each other earlier-Probably just more of that, Sisters," Another adds.

"Im's da witch's fault! Im guiled mi niece wit im evi! Gave mi da flux!" Someone else calls out.

Palais shakes her head and moves forward. The courtyard is a maze of primitive fortifications, but the teams push through with ease, smashing apart barricades and forcing aside rusted hulks of vehicles, through the Taurox has more difficulty navigate. Gangers scatter before the imposing force of Imperial might, leaving behind signs of frantic repair work, looting, or random violence.

The doors to the Carmine tower's main entrance lie ahead. Palais slides to a halt, her sabatons skidding on the wet rockcrete. Blood drenches the smashed barricades that line the front door, bodies in various states of dismemberment and mutilation scattered across the torn-apart fighting positions. Yet, it is not empty, armed figures poking at the dead. An idling Scarab Patrol car turns its twin-linked heavy stubber toward the Sisters as the figures, some wearing gang colors, others militia tags, and a pair of them Enforcer uniforms turn toward you. All of them, are wearing the symbols of Vennedes coalition.

"The actual flying feth?" One of the Enforcers calls out. "Are those Sisters of Battle?"

"It's that Witch! They'll kill us all because of her! Emperor forgive us!" You hear one of the gangers call out, before they turn on their heel and flee through the door, almost tripping over a headless corpse.

The other Enforcer coughs, stepping forward. She's filthy and clearly hasn't seen sleep in days, but she speaks confidently. "Greetings, Sisters of Battle. Welcome to the Carmine Tower. Corporal Amalia Dockson at your service." A mortar explodes against the tower overhead, showering the Sisters with pieces of debris that rattles off their armor. Welcome to the Carmine Tower indeed.

Zeitgeist Blue · Jan 19, 2020

Shephard said:
One can almost hear some of the Dominions giggling as they ready their melta-guns, weapons igniting and ready to start reduce the fortifications to nothing more than molten slag.

"Uh, no-no need for that! We'll open the gates! Right?" The man calls back. There is a pregnant pause, followed by hushed whispering. Someone shouts, "Open the bloody gates!"

Someone shouts back. "No, they'll kill us all!"

Sounds of a scuffle follow afterward, several gunshots ringing out. Finally, a man topples from one of the towers with a high pitched scream and belly-flops onto the hard rockcrete with a sickeningly wet thud. Then the gates begin to grind open.

"They opened the gates quicker than I had given them credit for. My compliments to the men for his Faith." Eriko says as an aside as she begins her stroll anew. Through the now open gates and past the man's corpse, which she gave only a quick glance before turning her eyes to the courtyard and its occupants..

"Emperor-willing we could repay them in heretic blood and kind."

Shephard said:
An assortment of scum awaits beyond the gate. Gene-bulked brutes in scraps of makeshift plate armor stand alongside terrified looking shopkeepers barely able to lift the club in their hands. Gangers, militiamen, civilians all intermixed and all equally staring with wide eyes and shaking frames. Ophania leads the advance through the gates, red-tinged water dripping from her eviscerator. The rest of the two squads follow her example, marching through imperiously, and Vennedes' makeshift coalition scatters before them. The PDF follow suit, swiftly marching through the gate in organized ranks. The gates slowly shut behind them with a loud clamor, as two gangers drag a woman missing her leg down the gate ramps.

The court yard is a mess. Even before the warzone its foundation was cracked, old wrecks gathering rust and weeds littering the yard. Ramshackle amps and makeshift fortifications stretch in every direction, rebuild and torn down a dozen times before. Now it's hellish. Burst promethium fires burn so intensely even the pouring rain can't put it out, filling the air with thick-black smoke. Craters are punched into the rockcrete from errant mortars and rockets, rusting cargo containers torn open, vehicles toppled, fortifications shattered. The chaos isn't just from the bombardment alone, as there are clear signs of fighting in the courtyard, albeit limited. You see a few scattered bodies, and an idling technical, its windshield shattered by gunfire and driver slumped dead against the wheel.

Palais gestures at a large man whose impressive tattoos and augmetic jaw set him apart from the rest of the scum, as does the rusted chainsword in his hands.

"What's happening here? Did some of the Cult get inside?"

The man's jaw twitches as he meets Palais' gaze. He glances back at the fire burning within the Carmine tower, the smoke pouring through the fortified windows. He shrugs helplessly. "Na really fosho, amash probably, ya. Sorry, sésata," he says in some gutter tongue. There are faint murmurs of agreement.

"Some o' th' lads weren't roight in th' head, yah!" Someone else calls out.

"The Blue Fangs and the Hounds of the Angel were killing each other earlier-Probably just more of that, Sisters," Another adds.

"Im's da witch's fault! Im guiled mi niece wit im evi! Gave mi da flux!" Someone else calls out.

Palais shakes her head and moves forward. The courtyard is a maze of primitive fortifications, but the teams push through with ease, smashing apart barricades and forcing aside rusted hulks of vehicles, through the Taurox has more difficulty navigate. Gangers scatter before the imposing force of Imperial might, leaving behind signs of frantic repair work, looting, or random violence.

"It does not sound anything too serious, Sister-Superior." Eriko slightly cocks her head to the side as she moves alongside Palais. "The civilians are terrified, but that is to be expected living under siege conditions. And from the snippets of their speech I could understand, it seems the fighting inside the courtyard had died down."

She was expecting half the courtyard to be a battlefield from what they had observed from their orbital surveillance, the gangers battling cult members for control of the gate. And while the situation was proven to be not so dire as that, Eriko was too well-trained and experienced to let her guard down. It was tempting for sure, surrounded by the most dangerous force in their AO in the form of her Sisters and their allies, but it was the lulls of the mind when danger could strike the hardest.

"Small miracles and if these small miracles continue, taking Eneresh into custody will be straight-forward after all."

She gave a small smile. Hoping for an easy time now and again was not sinful indulgence.

Shephard said:
The doors to the Carmine tower's main entrance lie ahead. Palais slides to a halt, her sabatons skidding on the wet rockcrete. Blood drenches the smashed barricades that line the front door, bodies in various states of dismemberment and mutilation scattered across the torn-apart fighting positions. Yet, it is not empty, armed figures poking at the dead. An idling Scarab Patrol car turns its twin-linked heavy stubber toward the Sisters as the figures, some wearing gang colors, others militia tags, and a pair of them Enforcer uniforms turn toward you. All of them, are wearing the symbols of Vennedes coalition.

"The actual flying feth?" One of the Enforcers calls out. "Are those Sisters of Battle?"

"It's that Witch! They'll kill us all because of her! Emperor forgive us!" You hear one of the gangers call out, before they turn on their heel and flee through the door, almost tripping over a headless corpse.

The other Enforcer coughs, stepping forward. She's filthy and clearly hasn't seen sleep in days, but she speaks confidently. "Greetings, Sisters of Battle. Welcome to the Carmine Tower. Corporal Amalia Dockson at your service." A mortar explodes against the tower overhead, showering the Sisters with pieces of debris that rattles off their armor. Welcome to the Carmine Tower indeed.

Eriko came to a stop and listened intently, resting her greatsword easily across her shoulders.

The Enforcers were the most reliable people they had come across since the day had began. No coercing filthy lowlifes to open the door for them as a basic courtesy. No trying to parse words out from an unsophisticated dialect of Low Gothic. The Enforcers and the Corporal provided them the opportunity to get a situational report for the Carmine Tower, and by the comments of the Corporal's subordinates it seemed they too knew what was going on inside the tower itself.

"Finally," Eriko half-whispered under her helm. "Some reliable sources. Perhaps now we can have our questions answered about the fighting within the walls and the fire inside the Carmine Tower. I would prefer there to not be any surprises when dealing with Witches, but at the very least it seems like everything is under control."

greendoor · Jan 19, 2020

Shephard said:
One can almost hear some of the Dominions giggling as they ready their melta-guns, weapons igniting and ready to start reduce the fortifications to nothing more than molten slag.

"Uh, no-no need for that! We'll open the gates! Right?" The man calls back. There is a pregnant pause, followed by hushed whispering. Someone shouts, "Open the bloody gates!"

Someone shouts back. "No, they'll kill us all!"

Sounds of a scuffle follow afterward, several gunshots ringing out. Finally, a man topples from one of the towers with a high pitched scream and belly-flops onto the hard rockcrete with a sickeningly wet thud. Then the gates begin to grind open.

Caelia briefly turns to look at the corpse on the rockcrete. "I'm glad they saw reason."

She turned to head inside. "Most importantly, quickly."

Shephard said:
An assortment of scum awaits beyond the gate. Gene-bulked brutes in scraps of makeshift plate armor stand alongside terrified looking shopkeepers barely able to lift the club in their hands. Gangers, militiamen, civilians all intermixed and all equally staring with wide eyes and shaking frames. Ophania leads the advance through the gates, red-tinged water dripping from her eviscerator. The rest of the two squads follow her example, marching through imperiously, and Vennedes' makeshift coalition scatters before them. The PDF follow suit, swiftly marching through the gate in organized ranks. The gates slowly shut behind them with a loud clamor, as two gangers drag a woman missing her leg down the gate ramps.

The court yard is a mess. Even before the warzone its foundation was cracked, old wrecks gathering rust and weeds littering the yard. Ramshackle amps and makeshift fortifications stretch in every direction, rebuild and torn down a dozen times before. Now it's hellish. Burst promethium fires burn so intensely even the pouring rain can't put it out, filling the air with thick-black smoke. Craters are punched into the rockcrete from errant mortars and rockets, rusting cargo containers torn open, vehicles toppled, fortifications shattered. The chaos isn't just from the bombardment alone, as there are clear signs of fighting in the courtyard, albeit limited. You see a few scattered bodies, and an idling technical, its windshield shattered by gunfire and driver slumped dead against the wheel.

Caelia looks over the scene of chaos with a discerning eye. Shell craters, corpses, wrecked vehicles, shattered fortifications. The usual for an urban zone under bombardment, but there are signs of fighting as well. Not a good sign, but it wasn't really their responsibility. Still, it could mean Cult presence, and that meant possible ambush.

She keeps looking over the courtyard, hand on the handle of her bolter.

Shephard said:
Palais gestures at a large man whose impressive tattoos and augmetic jaw set him apart from the rest of the scum, as does the rusted chainsword in his hands.

"What's happening here? Did some of the Cult get inside?"

The man's jaw twitches as he meets Palais' gaze. He glances back at the fire burning within the Carmine tower, the smoke pouring through the fortified windows. He shrugs helplessly. "Na really fosho, amash probably, ya. Sorry, sésata," he says in some gutter tongue. There are faint murmurs of agreement.

"Some o' th' lads weren't roight in th' head, yah!" Someone else calls out.

"The Blue Fangs and the Hounds of the Angel were killing each other earlier-Probably just more of that, Sisters," Another adds.

"Im's da witch's fault! Im guiled mi niece wit im evi! Gave mi da flux!" Someone else calls out.

Palais shakes her head and moves forward. The courtyard is a maze of primitive fortifications, but the teams push through with ease, smashing apart barricades and forcing aside rusted hulks of vehicles, through the Taurox has more difficulty navigate. Gangers scatter before the imposing force of Imperial might, leaving behind signs of frantic repair work, looting, or random violence.

Gang infighting then, possibly with Psyker interference. Caelia didn't know what motivation Eneresh would have to interfere with the minds of the Gangers, but who could know with Witches. It hardly mattered, they'd take the proper precautions regardless.

She kept moving forward, but her warhelm scanned over the crowds, still watching for signs of cult presence. An explanation was no reason to grow sloppy, and if a Ganger was intimidated by her glancing their way, all the better.

Shephard said:
The doors to the Carmine tower's main entrance lie ahead. Palais slides to a halt, her sabatons skidding on the wet rockcrete. Blood drenches the smashed barricades that line the front door, bodies in various states of dismemberment and mutilation scattered across the torn-apart fighting positions. Yet, it is not empty, armed figures poking at the dead. An idling Scarab Patrol car turns its twin-linked heavy stubber toward the Sisters as the figures, some wearing gang colors, others militia tags, and a pair of them Enforcer uniforms turn toward you. All of them, are wearing the symbols of Vennedes coalition.

"The actual flying feth?" One of the Enforcers calls out. "Are those Sisters of Battle?"

"It's that Witch! They'll kill us all because of her! Emperor forgive us!" You hear one of the gangers call out, before they turn on their heel and flee through the door, almost tripping over a headless corpse.

The other Enforcer coughs, stepping forward. She's filthy and clearly hasn't seen sleep in days, but she speaks confidently. "Greetings, Sisters of Battle. Welcome to the Carmine Tower. Corporal Amalia Dockson at your service." A mortar explodes against the tower overhead, showering the Sisters with pieces of debris that rattles off their armor. Welcome to the Carmine Tower indeed.

Caelia quietly sighed with relief. These must be the Enforcers from the precinct who were out on patrol. At least there was two more survivors of that...situation.

"Greetings." Caelia says, nodding slightly. She decided to get right to it. No sense wasting time. "What can you tell us about the interior of the tower?"

Shephard · Jan 23, 2020

greendoor said:
Caelia quietly sighed with relief. These must be the Enforcers from the precinct who were out on patrol. At least there was two more survivors of that...situation.

"Greetings." Caelia says, nodding slightly. She decided to get right to it. No sense wasting time. "What can you tell us about the interior of the tower?"

The Enforcer corporal, Dockson, hesitates a moment. "That's a broad question, milady. To be honest with you, my lads' biggest concern is directions to the nearest restroom. It's a maze in there, full of murder holes, defensible positions and booby traps. And uh, there's the whole mess in the lobby."

Palais steps forward. "What's going on in the lobby?" she clarifies.

"Confused. Like I said, we found these lot dead," she gestures over her shoulder at the fallen bodies across the threshold. The gangs and militia are busy stripping the dead of equipment and valuables, and shifting the bodies out of the way. "Sergeant Titus and a few men went into the lobby to find out what happened, but the Red Gears Gang and some of the militia from the Honorable Guild of Masons were having a row. Calling each other cultists, shooting each other. It's quiet now, if you want to head straight for the lift or the stairs."

She pops open a pouch on her vest, producing an electronic card whose surface is covered in faded litanies to the machine-spirit. She mutters a brief prayer under her breath as she passes the card to Palais. "My ward-accessor. It should get you access to the lift and stairway both. Full access."

"And where is the witch?" A nasal voice rings out from behind you. The Witch-Finder, Zayneth, has departed from his vehicle. A pair of servo-skulls hover overhead, draping a cloak over the top of the nobleman, and the reason is evident as several newfound candles anoint his hat and pauldrons, a cloud of burning incense following in his wake. Wards and amulets dangle from his gorget, and sacred oils drip from his chainsword and face.

"Last I heard, she was in the top floor with Vennedes, but they were considering shifting down to the fortified command center mid-tower, as its easier to secure. There's been reports of fights like in the lobby breaking out, and I've heard as many people blame the fire on a lucky mortar shell as arsonists. Or cult infiltrators," she says. "Still, last I heard from the crew chiefs, most positions are still sound. That won't make your job any easier, I'm afraid. Everyone's edgy enough they might shoot at you just to make sure you're not an illusion. And..."

"Your witch friend has asked them to halt us, I suppose?" Vahn Zayneth asks.

The Corporal's shoulders slump, and she nods. "I believe so, yes. I think some of them actually think she's a blessing from the Emperor."

There is a long silence at that, hands tightening on weapon grips. The idea of a witch being mistaken as a miracle worker was not unknown, but that did not make it any less blasphemous.

Zeitgeist Blue said:
Eriko came to a stop and listened intently, resting her greatsword easily across her shoulders.

The Enforcers were the most reliable people they had come across since the day had began. No coercing filthy lowlifes to open the door for them as a basic courtesy. No trying to parse words out from an unsophisticated dialect of Low Gothic. The Enforcers and the Corporal provided them the opportunity to get a situational report for the Carmine Tower, and by the comments of the Corporal's subordinates it seemed they too knew what was going on inside the tower itself.

"Finally," Eriko half-whispered under her helm. "Some reliable sources. Perhaps now we can have our questions answered about the fighting within the walls and the fire inside the Carmine Tower. I would prefer there to not be any surprises when dealing with Witches, but at the very least it seems like everything is under control."

"This is an awful lot of dead bodies for 'under control'," one of the dominions notes.

"I don't like the look of them either," Dominion Gwynais replies. "What happened here?"

Amalia Dockson tugs at the collar of her flak vest. "Don't rightly know, milady. As I said, we only just arrived and found the front door guards like this. Looks like at least some of them killed each other."

"Of course. Why can't things ever just be simple?" Palais asks.

"The Emperor demands much," Ophania opines. She nods at Palais. "I'll secure the exits and sweep upward. You'll search and destroy."

Zayneth taps his leather boots against the ground impatiently. "I'll, of course, accompany you Sister-Superior Palais! In the Emperor's name, let's chase our quarry to ground!"

The lobby does not remind any of the Sisters of a lobby. Bullet holes, some decades old, cover every wall and surface, as well as the mighty pillars that line the large room. If there had been some sort of visitor's desk, it's been torn down and replaced with barricades, themselves torn down and replaced at least a half dozen times. There's dangling pieces of chain hanging from the roof that might have once held up an electro-chandelier, and an imprint on the floor below that suggests one had once hit the ground, before undoubtedly being scavenged in its entirety for parts and wiring. Old blood stains and ugly makeshift repairs cover every conceivable surface. Then somebody covered it all up in several layers of crude gang graffiti, religious slogans, and oddly artistic depictions of saints and heroes (Which then, inevitably, were covered up with more graffiti and slogans).

In service to what is clearly a long-standing tradition of violence, bodies, and pools of blood litter the hall. Spent casings click against the Sisters' feet, and sporadic gunshots ring out. A stray ricochet glances off the wall and thuds harmlessly off Caelia's gauntlet. Hastily assembled barricades line both sides of the wall as figures exchange fire with one another. On the other side of the room is a pair of stairways and four lifts, all of which seem to be functional.

"Bloody Heretics!" You hear someone bellow from the barricades along the right side of the room, a moment before a firebomb flies out and explodes against a pillar on the left side of the lobby. Judging by their tattoos and ragged, red dominated clothing, that's the Red Gears gang toward the right.

A few shots of inaccurate las-lock fire answers them, punching steaming holes in walls and barricades.

"Lying little scum! You desecrate our world, murder our people, and fething dare to call us heretics?" Comes the snarled response from the barricades from the left, as individuals in cheap but uniform pieces of ballistic cloth and plasteel plate hastily begin reloading. Militia, one might suspect.

In front of the Sisters a third, smaller group huddles behind cover, eying the chaos carefully. Three of them are clad in pieces of enforcer armor and bits of flak, but the rest are an odd mixture of gangers and armed civilian militia. The only unifying characteristic is the makeshift red mark of Vennedes on their shoulders and that all of them are busy staring at the Adepta Sororitas with wide eyes.

"Sergeant! It's the Sisters of Battle!" Corporal Amalia Dockson calls out, keeping low.

Titus, a man who's haggard appearance and unkempt beard bely the fine condition of the bulky combat shotgun in his hands. "I can see that, Corporal," he says, mouth agape. "That's good. Very good timing. These riff-raff are idiots, but there's something wrong here," he babbles, glancing behind him.

The Sisters follow his gaze. There, painted at least three meters up is what they may have originally taken for but more graffiti, were it not for the way it made their eyes water. An eight-pointed star, drawn in fresh blood, anoints one of the pillars.

greendoor · Jan 28, 2020

Shephard said:
"And where is the witch?" A nasal voice rings out from behind you. The Witch-Finder, Zayneth, has departed from his vehicle. A pair of servo-skulls hover overhead, draping a cloak over the top of the nobleman, and the reason is evident as several newfound candles anoint his hat and pauldrons, a cloud of burning incense following in his wake. Wards and amulets dangle from his gorget, and sacred oils drip from his chainsword and face.

"Last I heard, she was in the top floor with Vennedes, but they were considering shifting down to the fortified command center mid-tower, as its easier to secure. There's been reports of fights like in the lobby breaking out, and I've heard as many people blame the fire on a lucky mortar shell as arsonists. Or cult infiltrators," she says. "Still, last I heard from the crew chiefs, most positions are still sound. That won't make your job any easier, I'm afraid. Everyone's edgy enough they might shoot at you just to make sure you're not an illusion. And..."

"Your witch friend has asked them to halt us, I suppose?" Vahn Zayneth asks.

The Corporal's shoulders slump, and she nods. "I believe so, yes. I think some of them actually think she's a blessing from the Emperor."

There is a long silence at that, hands tightening on weapon grips. The idea of a witch being mistaken as a miracle worker was not unknown, but that did not make it any less blasphemous.

Caelia's hands tightens on the grip of the Slayer.

That, was heresy. It paled in comparison to the cult of Old Night of course, but it was heresy nonetheless, of a more insidious kind. One that didn't require the surrender or breaking of faith, only the illusion of false miracles, whether willing or not.

Another reason they would need to capture Enneresh. The rot could not be allowed to spread further.

To the task then.

Shephard said:
Titus, a man who's haggard appearance and unkempt beard bely the fine condition of the bulky combat shotgun in his hands. "I can see that, Corporal," he says, mouth agape. "That's good. Very good timing. These riff-raff are idiots, but there's something wrong here," he babbles, glancing behind him.

The Sisters follow his gaze. There, painted at least three meters up is what they may have originally taken for but more graffiti, were it not for the way it made their eyes water. An eight-pointed star, drawn in fresh blood, anoints one of the pillars.

"An astute observation, sergeant." Caelia says, not untruthfully.

Caelia glanced to both sides, neither apparently obviously heretics, but both an impediment to their assault. The most time effective way would be to simply blast a hole through their lines and keep going, but that'd probably set the entire tower against them at this point. A more restrained method would be warranted.

She thought for a moment, a round reflecting off her helmet having no effect on the process. She glanced back at Zayneth and his mercenaries, noting the gas hoods hung from combat webbing and belts. The Enforcers too, would have them, for they had been on riot duty.

She turned to Palais, armored gauntlet going for a grenade. "Sister Superior. Choke Gas to disperse these rabble nonlethally? Any real heretics will be caught in the gas, or else reveal themselves through being prepared for chemical attack. Then we can push forward to the lift in peace."

OOC: Gas both sides, break faces and limbs of any who get in our way. Kidnap any leaders or other targets of opportunity who present themselves. Burn Chaos symbol and stroll leisurely to the lift.

Mina · Jan 29, 2020

Shephard said:
"And where is the witch?" A nasal voice rings out from behind you. The Witch-Finder, Zayneth, has departed from his vehicle. A pair of servo-skulls hover overhead, draping a cloak over the top of the nobleman, and the reason is evident as several newfound candles anoint his hat and pauldrons, a cloud of burning incense following in his wake. Wards and amulets dangle from his gorget, and sacred oils drip from his chainsword and face.

"Last I heard, she was in the top floor with Vennedes, but they were considering shifting down to the fortified command center mid-tower, as its easier to secure. There's been reports of fights like in the lobby breaking out, and I've heard as many people blame the fire on a lucky mortar shell as arsonists. Or cult infiltrators," she says. "Still, last I heard from the crew chiefs, most positions are still sound. That won't make your job any easier, I'm afraid. Everyone's edgy enough they might shoot at you just to make sure you're not an illusion. And..."

"Your witch friend has asked them to halt us, I suppose?" Vahn Zayneth asks.

The Corporal's shoulders slump, and she nods. "I believe so, yes. I think some of them actually think she's a blessing from the Emperor."

There is a long silence at that, hands tightening on weapon grips. The idea of a witch being mistaken as a miracle worker was not unknown, but that did not make it any less blasphemous.

"Speed is essential then to create confusion in their response and cut off attempts to find better ground." Maria gave Zayneth a wan smile beneath her helmet, the man's prickly demeanor and panache growing on her as time went on. There were far worse sorts to be made to work with. "As they have chosen, so shall they be judged, and when they are found wanting the heretic shall burn, body and soul."

Shephard said:
"Lying little scum! You desecrate our world, murder our people, and fething dare to call us heretics?" Comes the snarled response from the barricades from the left, as individuals in cheap but uniform pieces of ballistic cloth and plasteel plate hastily begin reloading. Militia, one might suspect.

...

The Sisters follow his gaze. There, painted at least three meters up is what they may have originally taken for but more graffiti, were it not for the way it made their eyes water. An eight-pointed star, drawn in fresh blood, anoints one of the pillars.

greendoor said:
She turned to Palais, armored gauntlet going for a grenade. "Sister Superior. Choke Gas to disperse these rabble nonlethally? Any real heretics will be caught in the gas, or else reveal themselves through being prepared for chemical attack. Then we can push forward to the lift in peace."

Maria brought her bolter up, aligning it with the offending set of barricades. "They seem intent upon their purpose Sister. We have but one target we are commanded to take in alive despite her sin and violence. There should be no difficulties in advancing with marching fire. At this range there is little chance of missing."

It would feel wrong leaving that symbol behind them, like some kind of unanswered challenge. Wrong too to presume there weren't agents within the ragtag band on their side who might be aided by their 'disabled' compatriots in the sisters' absence. The sooner the song of chainsword and bolter echoed through the building the quicker the spirits of the doubters would break and fear would grow in the hearts of the wicked. It was the song in her heart today, no more marching, no more delaying, just the purity of assault. The glory of hate. The majesty of His love upon them all in battle.

Burn the symbol, shoot the heretics, take the elevators up and kill anyone in our way.

Zeitgeist Blue · Jan 30, 2020

Shephard said:
The Enforcer corporal, Dockson, hesitates a moment. "That's a broad question, milady. To be honest with you, my lads' biggest concern is directions to the nearest restroom. It's a maze in there, full of murder holes, defensible positions and booby traps. And uh, there's the whole mess in the lobby."

Palais steps forward. "What's going on in the lobby?" she clarifies.

"Confused. Like I said, we found these lot dead," she gestures over her shoulder at the fallen bodies across the threshold. The gangs and militia are busy stripping the dead of equipment and valuables, and shifting the bodies out of the way. "Sergeant Titus and a few men went into the lobby to find out what happened, but the Red Gears Gang and some of the militia from the Honorable Guild of Masons were having a row. Calling each other cultists, shooting each other. It's quiet now, if you want to head straight for the lift or the stairs."

She pops open a pouch on her vest, producing an electronic card whose surface is covered in faded litanies to the machine-spirit. She mutters a brief prayer under her breath as she passes the card to Palais. "My ward-accessor. It should get you access to the lift and stairway both. Full access."

"And where is the witch?" A nasal voice rings out from behind you. The Witch-Finder, Zayneth, has departed from his vehicle. A pair of servo-skulls hover overhead, draping a cloak over the top of the nobleman, and the reason is evident as several newfound candles anoint his hat and pauldrons, a cloud of burning incense following in his wake. Wards and amulets dangle from his gorget, and sacred oils drip from his chainsword and face.

"Last I heard, she was in the top floor with Vennedes, but they were considering shifting down to the fortified command center mid-tower, as its easier to secure. There's been reports of fights like in the lobby breaking out, and I've heard as many people blame the fire on a lucky mortar shell as arsonists. Or cult infiltrators," she says. "Still, last I heard from the crew chiefs, most positions are still sound. That won't make your job any easier, I'm afraid. Everyone's edgy enough they might shoot at you just to make sure you're not an illusion. And..."

"Your witch friend has asked them to halt us, I suppose?" Vahn Zayneth asks.

The Corporal's shoulders slump, and she nods. "I believe so, yes. I think some of them actually think she's a blessing from the Emperor."

There is a long silence at that, hands tightening on weapon grips. The idea of a witch being mistaken as a miracle worker was not unknown, but that did not make it any less blasphemous.

Shephard said:
"This is an awful lot of dead bodies for 'under control'," one of the dominions notes.

"I don't like the look of them either," Dominion Gwynais replies. "What happened here?"

Amalia Dockson tugs at the collar of her flak vest. "Don't rightly know, milady. As I said, we only just arrived and found the front door guards like this. Looks like at least some of them killed each other."

"Of course. Why can't things ever just be simple?" Palais asks.

"The Emperor demands much," Ophania opines. She nods at Palais. "I'll secure the exits and sweep upward. You'll search and destroy."

Zayneth taps his leather boots against the ground impatiently. "I'll, of course, accompany you Sister-Superior Palais! In the Emperor's name, let's chase our quarry to ground!"

"And if I am so bold as to speak for all of Squad Palais, then we'll gladly have you, Witch-Hunter." Eriko says as she turns to the noble. Slowly and with one armoured hand, she grasps the greatsword's hilt, ready to use it at a moment's notice. "This Witch tests our patience and willingly turns people from the Emperor's warmth."

Summer's visor glows red. "A lesson needs to be taught."

Shephard said:
The lobby does not remind any of the Sisters of a lobby. Bullet holes, some decades old, cover every wall and surface, as well as the mighty pillars that line the large room. If there had been some sort of visitor's desk, it's been torn down and replaced with barricades, themselves torn down and replaced at least a half dozen times. There's dangling pieces of chain hanging from the roof that might have once held up an electro-chandelier, and an imprint on the floor below that suggests one had once hit the ground, before undoubtedly being scavenged in its entirety for parts and wiring. Old blood stains and ugly makeshift repairs cover every conceivable surface. Then somebody covered it all up in several layers of crude gang graffiti, religious slogans, and oddly artistic depictions of saints and heroes (Which then, inevitably, were covered up with more graffiti and slogans).

In service to what is clearly a long-standing tradition of violence, bodies, and pools of blood litter the hall. Spent casings click against the Sisters' feet, and sporadic gunshots ring out. A stray ricochet glances off the wall and thuds harmlessly off Caelia's gauntlet. Hastily assembled barricades line both sides of the wall as figures exchange fire with one another. On the other side of the room is a pair of stairways and four lifts, all of which seem to be functional.

"Bloody Heretics!" You hear someone bellow from the barricades along the right side of the room, a moment before a firebomb flies out and explodes against a pillar on the left side of the lobby. Judging by their tattoos and ragged, red dominated clothing, that's the Red Gears gang toward the right.

A few shots of inaccurate las-lock fire answers them, punching steaming holes in walls and barricades.

"Lying little scum! You desecrate our world, murder our people, and fething dare to call us heretics?" Comes the snarled response from the barricades from the left, as individuals in cheap but uniform pieces of ballistic cloth and plasteel plate hastily begin reloading. Militia, one might suspect.

In front of the Sisters a third, smaller group huddles behind cover, eying the chaos carefully. Three of them are clad in pieces of enforcer armor and bits of flak, but the rest are an odd mixture of gangers and armed civilian militia. The only unifying characteristic is the makeshift red mark of Vennedes on their shoulders and that all of them are busy staring at the Adepta Sororitas with wide eyes.

"Sergeant! It's the Sisters of Battle!" Corporal Amalia Dockson calls out, keeping low.

Titus, a man who's haggard appearance and unkempt beard bely the fine condition of the bulky combat shotgun in his hands. "I can see that, Corporal," he says, mouth agape. "That's good. Very good timing. These riff-raff are idiots, but there's something wrong here," he babbles, glancing behind him.

The Sisters follow his gaze. There, painted at least three meters up is what they may have originally taken for but more graffiti, were it not for the way it made their eyes water. An eight-pointed star, drawn in fresh blood, anoints one of the pillars.

greendoor said:
"An astute observation, sergeant." Caelia says, not untruthfully.

Caelia glanced to both sides, neither apparently obviously heretics, but both an impediment to their assault. The most time effective way would be to simply blast a hole through their lines and keep going, but that'd probably set the entire tower against them at this point. A more restrained method would be warranted.

She thought for a moment, a round reflecting off her helmet having no effect on the process. She glanced back at Zayneth and his mercenaries, noting the gas hoods hung from combat webbing and belts. The Enforcers too, would have them, for they had been on riot duty.

She turned to Palais, armored gauntlet going for a grenade. "Sister Superior. Choke Gas to disperse these rabble nonlethally? Any real heretics will be caught in the gas, or else reveal themselves through being prepared for chemical attack. Then we can push forward to the lift in peace."

Mina said:
Maria brought her bolter up, aligning it with the offending set of barricades. "They seem intent upon their purpose Sister. We have but one target we are commanded to take in alive despite her sin and violence. There should be no difficulties in advancing with marching fire. At this range there is little chance of missing."

It would feel wrong leaving that symbol behind them, like some kind of unanswered challenge. Wrong too to presume there weren't agents within the ragtag band on their side who might be aided by their 'disabled' compatriots in the sisters' absence. The sooner the song of chainsword and bolter echoed through the building the quicker the spirits of the doubters would break and fear would grow in the hearts of the wicked. It was the song in her heart today, no more marching, no more delaying, just the purity of assault. The glory of hate. The majesty of His love upon them all in battle

As Caelia's hand goes down to her grenades, Eriko's palm moves up as if motioning for her to stop.

"You should save your grenades, Sister, for whom we prepared them for. Sister Maria has the right of it."

Eriko takes a step forward, fingers twitching at the trigger and her greatsword revving. She could feel Summer's legs readying to leap forward. It could taste the blood in the air.

"These men and women of little faith truck with things that should not be and call it the Emperor's blessing. The Lex Imperialis has been broken and it demands blood in recompense. We should burn this heretical symbol and rid this tower of such heresy, that this brings us towards the Witch and Vennedes at greatest speed is merely icing on the cake."

Then her helm turns a bit to the side, so that only the edge of her visor could be seen. "Would you and your fellow Enforcers join us for this cleansing, Corporal Dockson?"

With an armoured finger she points to the other side of the room. "Their leaders however are useful. I am familiar with the ways of the interrogator. And a place where we stay put for a while will be appreciated."

(OOC: Burn the symbol. Shoot the heretics. Take the identified leaders as prisoners. Take the elevator.)

Shephard · Feb 1, 2020

Mina said:
"Speed is essential then to create confusion in their response and cut off attempts to find better ground." Maria gave Zayneth a wan smile beneath her helmet, the man's prickly demeanor and panache growing on her as time went on. There were far worse sorts to be made to work with. "As they have chosen, so shall they be judged, and when they are found wanting the heretic shall burn, body and soul."

Zeitgeist Blue said:
"And if I am so bold as to speak for all of Squad Palais, then we'll gladly have you, Witch-Hunter." Eriko says as she turns to the noble. Slowly and with one armoured hand, she grasps the greatsword's hilt, ready to use it at a moment's notice. "This Witch tests our patience and willingly turns people from the Emperor's warmth."

Summer's visor glows red. "A lesson needs to be taught."

"I second my Sister's welcome. An honour, Sir Zayneth," Palais says brightly.

Vahn shakes his head, exuberantly, "The honour is all mine, Sister-Superior. It's not every day a common witch-finder such as myself has the opportunity to hunt alongside the Emperor's own daughters," he says. He motions his head toward Maria, smoke coiling around his hat. "Your zeal is an inspiration to us all, Sister!"

greendoor said:
"An astute observation, sergeant." Caelia says, not untruthfully.

Caelia glanced to both sides, neither apparently obviously heretics, but both an impediment to their assault. The most time effective way would be to simply blast a hole through their lines and keep going, but that'd probably set the entire tower against them at this point. A more restrained method would be warranted.

She thought for a moment, a round reflecting off her helmet having no effect on the process. She glanced back at Zayneth and his mercenaries, noting the gas hoods hung from combat webbing and belts. The Enforcers too, would have them, for they had been on riot duty.

She turned to Palais, armored gauntlet going for a grenade. "Sister Superior. Choke Gas to disperse these rabble nonlethally? Any real heretics will be caught in the gas, or else reveal themselves through being prepared for chemical attack. Then we can push forward to the lift in peace."

OOC: Gas both sides, break faces and limbs of any who get in our way. Kidnap any leaders or other targets of opportunity who present themselves. Burn Chaos symbol and stroll leisurely to the lift.

Mina said:
Maria brought her bolter up, aligning it with the offending set of barricades. "They seem intent upon their purpose Sister. We have but one target we are commanded to take in alive despite her sin and violence. There should be no difficulties in advancing with marching fire. At this range there is little chance of missing."

It would feel wrong leaving that symbol behind them, like some kind of unanswered challenge. Wrong too to presume there weren't agents within the ragtag band on their side who might be aided by their 'disabled' compatriots in the sisters' absence. The sooner the song of chainsword and bolter echoed through the building the quicker the spirits of the doubters would break and fear would grow in the hearts of the wicked. It was the song in her heart today, no more marching, no more delaying, just the purity of assault. The glory of hate. The majesty of His love upon them all in battle.

Burn the symbol, shoot the heretics, take the elevators up and kill anyone in our way.

Zeitgeist Blue said:
As Caelia's hand goes down to her grenades, Eriko's palm moves up as if motioning for her to stop.

"You should save your grenades, Sister, for whom we prepared them for. Sister Maria has the right of it."

Eriko takes a step forward, fingers twitching at the trigger and her greatsword revving. She could feel Summer's legs readying to leap forward. It could taste the blood in the air.

"These men and women of little faith truck with things that should not be and call it the Emperor's blessing. The Lex Imperialis has been broken and it demands blood in recompense. We should burn this heretical symbol and rid this tower of such heresy, that this brings us towards the Witch and Vennedes at greatest speed is merely icing on the cake."

Then her helm turns a bit to the side, so that only the edge of her visor could be seen. "Would you and your fellow Enforcers join us for this cleansing, Corporal Dockson?"

With an armoured finger she points to the other side of the room. "Their leaders however are useful. I am familiar with the ways of the interrogator. And a place where we stay put for a while will be appreciated."

(OOC: Burn the symbol. Shoot the heretics. Take the identified leaders as prisoners. Take the elevator.)

The Enforcers glance between one another, mouths drawn into thin lines, muscles tense. "For a cleansing?" The corporal asks, her eyes flicking toward the Vennedes badge laid over her armour. "I-"

"Hold outside. Let no one in," Palais barks out, her pitiless visor turning toward the gangers mixed in among the ranks. As much apprehension as bloodthirsty glee is apparent on their features, and Palais dismisses them with a wave of her hand. "Stay here and don't get in our way."

She turns toward the squad and the Witch-Finder. "We're not doing a cleansing," she says, ignoring the way several of the mercs deflate at the words. "Kill anyone stupid enough not to run, and move to the lift. Caelia, Ilana, grab their leaders for a nice little chat." Palais stomps forward, guttering her chainsword. The shooting comes to a sudden halt as guilder militia and gang killers alike suddenly notice the towering, armoured forms entering into the lobby. That's when the screaming starts.

Contrary to Maria's words, there proves a significant chance of missing. The gangers and guilders are dug in behind their barricades, and their improvised battlements soak up even several of Maria's heavy bolter rounds, though inevitably several rounds punch through to explode amidst the recidivists on the other side. The lightly armoured gangers suffer several casualties, shrapnel ripping through their paltry protection and dropping several, Palais adding her fire with a bolt pistol shot that bursts the skull of a ganger leveling a heavy autogun. Eriko's fire proves less effective, her lighter bolts struggling against the barricades and the better equipped guilders soaking the shrapnel from the explosive rounds against their homeforged plates.

Caelia rushes forward, leaping over the bolter cracked barricades, shock-maul flaring in hand. The obvious boss is a tall woman bearing extensive if crude augmetics, her ballistic padding adorned with a bloody cog sigil. "What the bugger is this?" She snarls, her only flesh eye widening as Caelia's shock-maul falls. The force of the blow smashes the gang leader to the ground, electricity arcing up and down her body and making augmetics misfire and jerk wildly. Her gangers gape at their dead and wounded, and scatter in all directions, screaming and pleading for mercy. On the other side of the lobby Ilana storms forward, powering over the barricade. Guilders gape at her, las-locks trembling in their hands.

"Oh holy throne-" their boss gasps as he backs away, his expression bearing a startling resemblance to that of a dying fish. He makes no attempt to go for a weapon. "I-Why are you attacking us? We're not some heretics! We're members of the Honorable Guild of Masons! We are registered in the sacred annals of the Port Baptismus trade accords and the Registrar of Sanctioned Fighting Militia! Do you have any idea who I am?" He sputters, brandishing a guild seal like a holy icon as Ilana levels her shotgun. Behind him the guildsmen scatter, screaming in utter terror as they abandon their arms and run for cover. "The guild will hear of this! The Ecclesiarchy will hear of this!"

Practically frothing now, he actually steps toward Sister Illana. He stabs a finger at her. "I'll have you know I'm personal friends with Archpriestess Olivia, and-and-" he bellows, spittle flying from his lips. "Commissioned by the Pontifex Arcadia to renovate several local shrines and Cathedrums before this whole absolute disaster! I'll not be treated like some common criminal by some glorified thug with a boltgun!"

One can almost hear Palais' snicker at the display, nodding her head at Ilana. "Gutsy one, isn't he?"

Regardless, it's clear he's not going to offer any resistance. Physical resistance, at least. And well, Palais is certainly not going to mind explaining a few broken bones or a slipped trigger finger, if that's what it takes.

Palais' hand-flamer cleanses the unholiness that tainted the lobby. The burning promethium shines on the Sisters' armour as you order a lift with Corporal Dockson's keycard, patiently awaiting its arrival. As the last ashes fall, the lift arrives.

Corporal Dockson's keycard gets you through the doors to the lifts. They're large constructions, large enough to comfortably hold a full-strength squad of Sororitas or two and heavily reinforced to hold extreme weights. Each lift is open faced, allowing them to be used as improvised firing gantries or engaged from above by defenders. Palais slots in the card into the console, and mutters a quick prayer as with a groan the lift begins to rise upward. The Brass-collared mercenaries shift uneasily as they take up positions around the platform.

The downed ganger groans as she sits up, tugging at the crude cloth binding around her bionic hands. Vahn is awaiting her, silhouetted by the smoke of his incense burners. As she curses you all, he merely examines her.

"No immediately obvious signs of mutation or any witch-marks. A good sign, I suppose. Eneresh may not have fallen as low as I feared," he notes.

She spits on his boots. "You are one nasally motherfether, y'know that?"

The Witch-finder just shakes his head, rising to his feet. "Would you care to interrogate her, or shall I?"

OOC: Please note which floor you intend to go to. Also, you failed your tests to rally the enforcers and gangers to your sides. Intimidation on the blokes fighting-that worked.

Zeitgeist Blue · Feb 6, 2020

Shephard said:
The Enforcers glance between one another, mouths drawn into thin lines, muscles tense. "For a cleansing?" The corporal asks, her eyes flicking toward the Vennedes badge laid over her armour. "I-"

"Hold outside. Let no one in," Palais barks out, her pitiless visor turning toward the gangers mixed in among the ranks. As much apprehension as bloodthirsty glee is apparent on their features, and Palais dismisses them with a wave of her hand. "Stay here and don't get in our way."

She turns toward the squad and the Witch-Finder. "We're not doing a cleansing," she says, ignoring the way several of the mercs deflate at the words. "Kill anyone stupid enough not to run, and move to the lift. Caelia, Ilana, grab their leaders for a nice little chat." Palais stomps forward, guttering her chainsword. The shooting comes to a sudden halt as guilder militia and gang killers alike suddenly notice the towering, armoured forms entering into the lobby. That's when the screaming starts.

Eriko saw the hesitation in their eyes as soon as Palais saw, but it was the Sister-Superior who ordered them to a task far less likely to test their faith and resolve.

It was wise move.

They had been offered redemption but they had not taken it. Now guarding the entrance from would-be-escapees was the best assistance they could offer to Zahn's task, a role where such heistation at a more critical time could cost this whole endeavour.

So with the Enforcer's and their gangers out of mind, Eriko faced the rest of this misbegotten lobby and with her Sisters stepped forward as one to begin the Emperor's work.

Shephard said:
Palais' hand-flamer cleanses the unholiness that tainted the lobby. The burning promethium shines on the Sisters' armour as you order a lift with Corporal Dockson's keycard, patiently awaiting its arrival. As the last ashes fall, the lift arrives.

Corporal Dockson's keycard gets you through the doors to the lifts. They're large constructions, large enough to comfortably hold a full-strength squad of Sororitas or two and heavily reinforced to hold extreme weights. Each lift is open faced, allowing them to be used as improvised firing gantries or engaged from above by defenders. Palais slots in the card into the console, and mutters a quick prayer as with a groan the lift begins to rise upward. The Brass-collared mercenaries shift uneasily as they take up positions around the platform.

The downed ganger groans as she sits up, tugging at the crude cloth binding around her bionic hands. Vahn is awaiting her, silhouetted by the smoke of his incense burners. As she curses you all, he merely examines her.

"No immediately obvious signs of mutation or any witch-marks. A good sign, I suppose. Eneresh may not have fallen as low as I feared," he notes.

She spits on his boots. "You are one nasally motherfether, y'know that?"

The Witch-finder just shakes his head, rising to his feet. "Would you care to interrogate her, or shall I?"

OOC: Please note which floor you intend to go to. Also, you failed your tests to rally the enforcers and gangers to your sides. Intimidation on the blokes fighting-that worked.

"Please do, Witch-Hunter." Eriko motions towards the ganger. "Eneresh is your quarry after all, so I should not keep you from conducting an interrogation."

Eriko turned away as Zayneth went to work.

Another reason of hers was left unsaid. She was not drawn to the prospect of performing an interrogation with so many of her peers watching. Millennia has evolved the Imperium's interrogation techniques into a subtle, chemical art but it was still no clean task for the soul, in accordance with her beliefs, and she would not sully her own if she could help it.

Instead, she commented on the Witch and Vennedes.

"Corporal Dockson had said that Vennedes and her Witch-dog was considering to transfer into the mid-tower command center. It is the most fortified and we should move to remove such an asset from their grasp. If the two have any surveillance inside the Carmine Tower then they already know we are here and should be moving to the command center as we speak."

(OOC: Let Zayneth interrogate the prisoner. Go to the mid-tower to the command center.)

greendoor · Feb 11, 2020

Shephard said:
Palais' hand-flamer cleanses the unholiness that tainted the lobby. The burning promethium shines on the Sisters' armour as you order a lift with Corporal Dockson's keycard, patiently awaiting its arrival. As the last ashes fall, the lift arrives.

Corporal Dockson's keycard gets you through the doors to the lifts. They're large constructions, large enough to comfortably hold a full-strength squad of Sororitas or two and heavily reinforced to hold extreme weights. Each lift is open faced, allowing them to be used as improvised firing gantries or engaged from above by defenders. Palais slots in the card into the console, and mutters a quick prayer as with a groan the lift begins to rise upward. The Brass-collared mercenaries shift uneasily as they take up positions around the platform.

Caelia lopes back towards the squad, pausing occasionally to menacingly wave the Shock Maul at anyone who still hadn't ran yet. She sits the stunned (and still smoking) Gang leader down at the foot of the Sister Superior. "No resistance worth mentioning on this side." She reports.

She glances over at the Guildsman leader on the other, still objecting loudly even as his hopeless situation became clear. "I see Sister Ilanna's situation is not quite the same." She comments, dryly

Shephard said:
The downed ganger groans as she sits up, tugging at the crude cloth binding around her bionic hands. Vahn is awaiting her, silhouetted by the smoke of his incense burners. As she curses you all, he merely examines her.

"No immediately obvious signs of mutation or any witch-marks. A good sign, I suppose. Eneresh may not have fallen as low as I feared," he notes.

She spits on his boots. "You are one nasally motherfether, y'know that?"

The Witch-finder just shakes his head, rising to his feet. "Would you care to interrogate her, or shall I?"

Caelia stares down at the Ganger, observing quietly as the Witchhunter made his assessment. A good one. They might not have to face a corrupted Witch, or hordes of her cultists.

At least not Eneresh, in that case.

Still, the Ganger's defiant attitude merits correction. And they still needed information.

"I have no objection to you taking that duty, Witchhunter." Caelia says, nodding her helmeted head to the man.

Zeitgeist Blue said:
Instead, she commented on the Witch and Vennedes.

"Corporal Dockson had said that Vennedes and her Witch-dog was considering to transfer into the mid-tower command center. It is the most fortified and we should move to remove such an asset from their grasp. If the two have any surveillance inside the Carmine Tower then they already know we are here and should be moving to the command center as we speak."

"And if not, it may have higher ups in this organization who can tell us where they are." Caelia says, entirely aware that what they've seen so far doesn't constitute an organization. "Or perhaps Picters or Voxes whose spirits would be more cooperative." She nodded. "I agree with Sister Eriko."

SirLagginton · Feb 12, 2020

Shephard said:
"Oh holy throne-" their boss gasps as he backs away, his expression bearing a startling resemblance to that of a dying fish. He makes no attempt to go for a weapon. "I-Why are you attacking us? We're not some heretics! We're members of the Honorable Guild of Masons! We are registered in the sacred annals of the Port Baptismus trade accords and the Registrar of Sanctioned Fighting Militia! Do you have any idea who I am?" He sputters, brandishing a guild seal like a holy icon as Ilana levels her shotgun. Behind him the guildsmen scatter, screaming in utter terror as they abandon their arms and run for cover. "The guild will hear of this! The Ecclesiarchy will hear of this!"

Practically frothing now, he actually steps toward Sister Illana. He stabs a finger at her. "I'll have you know I'm personal friends with Archpriestess Olivia, and-and-" he bellows, spittle flying from his lips. "Commissioned by the Pontifex Arcadia to renovate several local shrines and Cathedrums before this whole absolute disaster! I'll not be treated like some common criminal by some glorified thug with a boltgun!"

One can almost hear Palais' snicker at the display, nodding her head at Ilana. "Gutsy one, isn't he?"

Regardless, it's clear he's not going to offer any resistance. Physical resistance, at least. And well, Palais is certainly not going to mind explaining a few broken bones or a slipped trigger finger, if that's what it takes.

Ilana was tempted, she truly was, which was not helped by the Persecutor Spirit eagerly adjusting the monomer bundles that made up the muscles of her blessed plate so the auxiliary shotgun lined up with the man's face even as the targeting rune blazed crimson. After a moment she refrained to take the shot, reigning her temper in. She didn't quite possess an abundance of non-lethals, and the man hadn't quite made himself enough of a nuisance to warrant spending the stun shell yet. Yet. What a farce, to know that chaos taint festered within this building and yet had to tolerate this idiot slandering the nobility of her order.

"Quite the circus he is," Ilana deadpanned to her superior, not quite able to share the latter's amusement at the moment. Maybe later she would be able to look back to this as a humorous anecdote, but right now Palais wasn't the one who had to deal with hysterically self-important civilian now was she? She returned her attentions to the guild boss, activating her external speakers to boom into his face. "The mark of chaos has found in this building, and by writ of the Golden Throne we hold the right to judge who lay within as suspect. You will submit to interrogation, willingly or not."

Then again, if he refused maybe breaking several of his ribs would suffice as catharsis.

Shephard · Feb 13, 2020

SirLagginton said:
Ilana was tempted, she truly was, which was not helped by the Persecutor Spirit eagerly adjusting the monomer bundles that made up the muscles of her blessed plate so the auxiliary shotgun lined up with the man's face even as the targeting rune blazed crimson. After a moment she refrained to take the shot, reigning her temper in. She didn't quite possess an abundance of non-lethals, and the man hadn't quite made himself enough of a nuisance to warrant spending the stun shell yet. Yet. What a farce, to know that chaos taint festered within this building and yet had to tolerate this idiot slandering the nobility of her order.

"Quite the circus he is," Ilana deadpanned to her superior, not quite able to share the latter's amusement at the moment. Maybe later she would be able to look back to this as a humorous anecdote, but right now Palais wasn't the one who had to deal with hysterically self-important civilian now was she? She returned her attentions to the guild boss, activating her external speakers to boom into his face. "The mark of chaos has found in this building, and by writ of the Golden Throne we hold the right to judge who lay within as suspect. You will submit to interrogation, willingly or not."

Then again, if he refused maybe breaking several of his ribs would suffice as catharsis.

The man stares at Sister Ilana, flapping his mouth open and closed. "Are you-are you threatening me?" he says, swallowing nervously. After spending a few long moments processing the concept, his shoulders slump. "Very well, I suppose I will comply. But I will be speaking to your superior officer about this!"

Palais waves at him from the lift. "Present! What did you wish to say, citizen?"

The man's callow features flush red with anger, meaty fists clenching at his sides. "You'll regret treating the renowned Andreas Masoun in such a brutish fashion," he grumbles but falls into line.

Zeitgeist Blue said:
"Please do, Witch-Hunter." Eriko motions towards the ganger. "Eneresh is your quarry after all, so I should not keep you from conducting an interrogation."

Eriko turned away as Zayneth went to work.

Another reason of hers was left unsaid. She was not drawn to the prospect of performing an interrogation with so many of her peers watching. Millennia has evolved the Imperium's interrogation techniques into a subtle, chemical art but it was still no clean task for the soul, in accordance with her beliefs, and she would not sully her own if she could help it.

greendoor said:
Caelia stares down at the Ganger, observing quietly as the Witchhunter made his assessment. A good one. They might not have to face a corrupted Witch, or hordes of her cultists.

At least not Eneresh, in that case.

Still, the Ganger's defiant attitude merits correction. And they still needed information.

"I have no objection to you taking that duty, Witchhunter." Caelia says, nodding her helmeted head to the man.

Vahn Zayneth tips his wide-brimmed hat at the two sisters, sending incense coalescing through the air. "I'll begin with the ganger."

The woman sneers at him. "Go shove your chainsword up where the sun don't shine, bastard."

"I didn't know this world got sunlight," Palais notes idly,

"Occasionally," Vahn notes, as he gets to work. The guildsman grows increasingly pale as the Witch-Finder begins his interrogation as Vahn begins to threaten. Even before the Witch-Finder has a chance to start employing physical methods, the guildsman starts blubbering answers, and the gang-boss, irate beyond measure, begins letting slip information.

"I swear, I swear on the honour of the guild these bunch of violent hooligans are scarcely armed! Nothing heavier than a heavy stubber or las-lock, a few improvised explosives!" The guildsman shouts. "Hardly enough to stop an enforcer raid, let alone power armour!"

The ganger snorts. "Hardly enough to stop enforcers? We'd make mince-meat of them, even if they hadn't thrown in their lot with us," she growls, her eyes flicking toward the Merud guardsmen. "Just ask your pet brass-necks. Maybe they remember the last time they tried to seize the Carmine Tower? Maybe they remember the Brotherhood of the True Flame? They'll happily hand you your arses again, regardless of your superior gear."

The mercenaries stiffen at that, several of them turning a particular shade of pale. Palais and Vahn glance at one another: The Merud Guild hadn't mentioned anything about a past raid.

"Those trumped up anarchists with no respect for the fine traditions of the commercia houses? Why, it's those idiots that started this lunacy of worshipping Eneresh like some sort of Emperor-sent Saint, just because she can burn heretics alive with a wave of her hand and babbles prophecy," the guildsman says. "Such blasphemy we could hardly countenance! The ones like this swamp trudger are clearly heretics! That's why we engaged them! We knew that unholy butchery was their doing!"

"Feth you, guilder! You're all fools!" the gang boss snaps at the Imperials on the lift, augmetics straining against her bonds. Her eyes are bright, despite her injuries. "You'll see, I'm telling you that you'll see that she is holy. I have seen her bring the Emperor's light upon the heretic, and she speaks with the Emperor's voice! Aren't you the Ecclesiarchy? You should be seeing her for the miracle she is!"

"She told me herself she wasn't some Saint!" the guildsman shouts back, before his eyes widen and he looks back at the rest of the group. "Not that, ah, I spoke to the witch or anything. Not at all!"

Vahn folds his arms across his chest, flowering through his gasmask. "Vennedes, Eneresh. Tell me about them."

And oh, how they do. The guildsman degenerates Eneresh as a heretic witch fit only for driving back the heretics who has grown increasingly mad, and Vennedes as little more than a street rat with a way for words and a burning hatred of the Merud guild. "I never got along with her," he notes. More usefully, he makes clear she is a firebrand and a vicious fighter. If she believes herself cornered, she'll fight with incredible viciousness. Eneresh, he states, has become something or a recluse as late, having been muttering about 'Burned Angels' and 'Golden Daemons' for days on end.

The ganger proves no less devoted to Vennedes, referring to her as a 'tactical genius' and a 'true hero'. It seems she has acquired the services of a group of deserted Enforcers referred to as her 'Vengeful', as well as hardened killers from a hodge-podge of militias with anti Merud Guild sentiments, again mentioning this 'Brotherhood of the True Flame'. Eneresh has a devoted following, though she guards herself with several hand-picked men (mostly experienced stubjacks) the ganger considers 'impious' and the guilder as 'practical'. She notes that Eneresh wears fine armour from an Enforcer Kill-Team.

Zeitgeist Blue said:
"Corporal Dockson had said that Vennedes and her Witch-dog was considering to transfer into the mid-tower command center. It is the most fortified and we should move to remove such an asset from their grasp. If the two have any surveillance inside the Carmine Tower then they already know we are here and should be moving to the command center as we speak."

greendoor said:
"And if not, it may have higher ups in this organization who can tell us where they are." Caelia says, entirely aware that what they've seen so far doesn't constitute an organization. "Or perhaps Picters or Voxes whose spirits would be more cooperative." She nodded. "I agree with Sister Eriko."

Up and up the lift goes, softly rocking as explosives hammer the Carmine Tower, dust falling across the helms of the platform's passengers. But the military engineering is hardened enough that even a direct hit from one of those RPGs on the lift itself probably wouldn't stop its upward ascent.

As such, it is something of a surprise that as the lift nears the middle floors, it suddenly grinds to a halt. Palais taps the terminal several time, praying with each rap of her fingers. Nothing.

"What in the Emperor's name?" One of the guildsmen mutters a moment before the console begins to beep. Palais glances at the 'call' rune, and strikes it. A voice wilts over the vox-engine built into the lift platform, fuzzy and wreathed with static, but nonetheless just barely audible.

"I've had many nightmares, since everything happened," the voice rings out, exhausted and strained. "But I remember yours the most. Fire blackened, seeping in your wake. I tried not to believe it, at first, but like all the other nightmares I've had, it seems to be coming true."

Palais snarls. "Witch."

"Witch indeed. I prayed to the Emperor, you know. Then I cursed Him, then prayed more, and cursed Him more," the voice rises higher, manic. "I'm still not sure if He sent you because I cursed His very name, or because I prayed for His salvation."

Her laugh is bitter. Palais steps forward, fists tensing. "Surrender yourself, Eneresh, or this will go badly for you. We are the Daughters of the Emperor, the Chamber Militant of the Ordos Hereticus, and you will come with us either in pieces or in chains."

"Of course it'll go badly! You're here! They're here! I'm a bloody psyker! I knew you'd come, take the damned lift, and I even went to the light-maker, the-the Lumenator, hoping to convince him to give me explosives. I could've sent you down in flames, but you already got to him! Even just stopping the lift was barely done in time," she sighs. "I'm not even sure I bothered telling Vennedes you're coming. She-She deserves better than this. I know the shadows are circling, and I'm not sure which is scarier. The ship or the beast. But I can still make you two work for it, make you bleed. All those idiots, who put words in my mouth and say this is the Emperor's blessing? Maybe I should send them to say hello? Maybe they'll get lucky."

greendoor · Feb 20, 2020

Shephard said:
"I swear, I swear on the honour of the guild these bunch of violent hooligans are scarcely armed! Nothing heavier than a heavy stubber or las-lock, a few improvised explosives!" The guildsman shouts. "Hardly enough to stop an enforcer raid, let alone power armour!"

The ganger snorts. "Hardly enough to stop enforcers? We'd make mince-meat of them, even if they hadn't thrown in their lot with us," she growls, her eyes flicking toward the Merud guardsmen. "Just ask your pet brass-necks. Maybe they remember the last time they tried to seize the Carmine Tower? Maybe they remember the Brotherhood of the True Flame? They'll happily hand you your arses again, regardless of your superior gear."

The mercenaries stiffen at that, several of them turning a particular shade of pale. Palais and Vahn glance at one another: The Merud Guild hadn't mentioned anything about a past raid.

Caelia waited a moment, then turned to the nearest Brassneck, towering over the mercenary.

"Explain, if you will." She says, her voice filtered through the helmet. "What happened on this....supposed raid? What is this...brotherhood?"

Shephard said:
And oh, how they do. The guildsman degenerates Eneresh as a heretic witch fit only for driving back the heretics who has grown increasingly mad, and Vennedes as little more than a street rat with a way for words and a burning hatred of the Merud guild. "I never got along with her," he notes. More usefully, he makes clear she is a firebrand and a vicious fighter. If she believes herself cornered, she'll fight with incredible viciousness. Eneresh, he states, has become something or a recluse as late, having been muttering about 'Burned Angels' and 'Golden Daemons' for days on end.

The ganger proves no less devoted to Vennedes, referring to her as a 'tactical genius' and a 'true hero'. It seems she has acquired the services of a group of deserted Enforcers referred to as her 'Vengeful', as well as hardened killers from a hodge-podge of militias with anti Merud Guild sentiments, again mentioning this 'Brotherhood of the True Flame'. Eneresh has a devoted following, though she guards herself with several hand-picked men (mostly experienced stubjacks) the ganger considers 'impious' and the guilder as 'practical'. She notes that Eneresh wears fine armour from an Enforcer Kill-Team.

"Traitors and Deserters." Caelia says, returning from the mercenaries. "To be dealt with as befits them." She says, as if that was the end of it. And to a degree it was. She had little doubt they could deal with enforcers and a few 'elite' gangers. Even a Ganger's idea of a Tactical Genius.

Especially a Ganger's idea of a Tactical Genius, she decided with an internal snort of derision.

Still, it was best to be prudent. They had the advantage of defense at least, and the numbers. They would be relying on Sister Maria's Auspex to detect any traps-this would seem the ideal environment.

Shephard said:
As such, it is something of a surprise that as the lift nears the middle floors, it suddenly grinds to a halt. Palais taps the terminal several time, praying with each rap of her fingers. Nothing.

"What in the Emperor's name?" One of the guildsmen mutters a moment before the console begins to beep. Palais glances at the 'call' rune, and strikes it. A voice wilts over the vox-engine built into the lift platform, fuzzy and wreathed with static, but nonetheless just barely audible.

"I've had many nightmares, since everything happened," the voice rings out, exhausted and strained. "But I remember yours the most. Fire blackened, seeping in your wake. I tried not to believe it, at first, but like all the other nightmares I've had, it seems to be coming true."

Palais snarls. "Witch."

"Witch." Caelia snarls at the same time.

Worse, a Witch who seems to know they were coming. There goes the possibility of shock and surprise...

Shephard said:
"Witch indeed. I prayed to the Emperor, you know. Then I cursed Him, then prayed more, and cursed Him more," the voice rises higher, manic. "I'm still not sure if He sent you because I cursed His very name, or because I prayed for His salvation."

Her laugh is bitter. Palais steps forward, fists tensing. "Surrender yourself, Eneresh, or this will go badly for you. We are the Daughters of the Emperor, the Chamber Militant of the Ordos Hereticus, and you will come with us either in pieces or in chains."

"Of course it'll go badly! You're here! They're here! I'm a bloody psyker! I knew you'd come, take the damned lift, and I even went to the light-maker, the-the Lumenator, hoping to convince him to give me explosives. I could've sent you down in flames, but you already got to him! Even just stopping the lift was barely done in time," she sighs. "I'm not even sure I bothered telling Vennedes you're coming. She-She deserves better than this. I know the shadows are circling, and I'm not sure which is scarier. The ship or the beast. But I can still make you two work for it, make you bleed. All those idiots, who put words in my mouth and say this is the Emperor's blessing? Maybe I should send them to say hello? Maybe they'll get lucky."

She had to hold back an amused chuckle. The Lumenator had proven true after all. She hardly believed it, even seeing his part in quelling the riots.

"If you have seen us, Witch, then you must know this is a hopeless fight. The Emperor would not have sent us otherwise." Caelia says, gauntlet clutching the Slayer of 10,000's pistol grip. She half hoped the Witch would see the logic, half regretted saying it because if she'd seen them coming than she could've seen the result of a battle already anyway. Or possibly the results of multiple fights, given her hope in luck.

Curse the Witch's future sight!

She decides to a different tack. The Psyker did seem to care about her compatriot-the smaller flicker of redeeming virtues in her sinful actions.

"Your resistance is futile Witch. Surrender and neither you nor Vennedes need die. You can ask the Lumenator about Leanna's Mercy.." She says. "Surrender. If not for your soul, then for your Compatriots." She repeats, for emphasis, then begins to turn away from the switch.

"Otherwise, it will be Fire and Sword, and the Emperor's eternal condemnation."

(OOC: Almost certain persuasion isn't gonna work, but Caelia is the type to be relatively pragmatic here, even if she doesn't personally like it.)

Zeitgeist Blue · Feb 22, 2020

Shephard said:
"Occasionally," Vahn notes, as he gets to work. The guildsman grows increasingly pale as the Witch-Finder begins his interrogation as Vahn begins to threaten. Even before the Witch-Finder has a chance to start employing physical methods, the guildsman starts blubbering answers, and the gang-boss, irate beyond measure, begins letting slip information.

Eriko couldn't help but idly take note of the Witch-Finder's methods. They were crude, relying on threat of physical harm and pain to be followed by an increasing application thereof, but she would be the first to admit they had little time to apply more effective and subtle methods. Such was life on the field, forever looking for the perfect circumstances but rarely finding it.

Besides, the information was actionable and helped them assess their foes who deemed to stand against the Emperor's wrath.

greendoor said:
Caelia waited a moment, then turned to the nearest Brassneck, towering over the mercenary.

"Explain, if you will." She says, her voice filtered through the helmet. "What happened on this....supposed raid? What is this...brotherhood?"

"Focus on the methods employed against your comrades, particularly." Eriko comments immediately after. "If these same surprises are waiting for us I would rather know when they come than be ignorant."

Shephard said:
"What in the Emperor's name?" One of the guildsmen mutters a moment before the console begins to beep. Palais glances at the 'call' rune, and strikes it. A voice wilts over the vox-engine built into the lift platform, fuzzy and wreathed with static, but nonetheless just barely audible.

"I've had many nightmares, since everything happened," the voice rings out, exhausted and strained. "But I remember yours the most. Fire blackened, seeping in your wake. I tried not to believe it, at first, but like all the other nightmares I've had, it seems to be coming true."

Palais snarls. "Witch."

"Witch indeed. I prayed to the Emperor, you know. Then I cursed Him, then prayed more, and cursed Him more," the voice rises higher, manic. "I'm still not sure if He sent you because I cursed His very name, or because I prayed for His salvation."

Her laugh is bitter. Palais steps forward, fists tensing. "Surrender yourself, Eneresh, or this will go badly for you. We are the Daughters of the Emperor, the Chamber Militant of the Ordos Hereticus, and you will come with us either in pieces or in chains."

"Of course it'll go badly! You're here! They're here! I'm a bloody psyker! I knew you'd come, take the damned lift, and I even went to the light-maker, the-the Lumenator, hoping to convince him to give me explosives. I could've sent you down in flames, but you already got to him! Even just stopping the lift was barely done in time," she sighs. "I'm not even sure I bothered telling Vennedes you're coming. She-She deserves better than this. I know the shadows are circling, and I'm not sure which is scarier. The ship or the beast. But I can still make you two work for it, make you bleed. All those idiots, who put words in my mouth and say this is the Emperor's blessing? Maybe I should sen

greendoor said:
She had to hold back an amused chuckle. The Lumenator had proven true after all. She hardly believed it, even seeing his part in quelling the riots.

"If you have seen us, Witch, then you must know this is a hopeless fight. The Emperor would not have sent us otherwise." Caelia says, gauntlet clutching the Slayer of 10,000's pistol grip. She half hoped the Witch would see the logic, half regretted saying it because if she'd seen them coming than she could've seen the result of a battle already anyway. Or possibly the results of multiple fights, given her hope in luck.

Curse the Witch's future sight!

She decides to a different tack. The Psyker did seem to care about her compatriot-the smaller flicker of redeeming virtues in her sinful actions.

"Your resistance is futile Witch. Surrender and neither you nor Vennedes need die. You can ask the Lumenator about Leanna's Mercy.." She says. "Surrender. If not for your soul, then for your Compatriots." She repeats, for emphasis, then begins to turn away from the switch.

"Otherwise, it will be Fire and Sword, and the Emperor's eternal condemnation."

Eriko nods, fingers clacking against her palm as she steps forward and it is all she could do to stop Storm of Summer from leaping forward and smashing the vox to cease Eneresh's deranged prattling.

"Think on our offer of mercy, Witch." Eriko's voice is harsh, screeching, as her armour recycles her voice, though it is clear that the Adepta Sororitas does not think much of Eneresh's propensity for rational thought. "Or not. For many of us, this is not our first conflict against Warp-Witches and Sorcerers of your ilk and neither would it be the last. But you, Witch, how many times have you faced down the bolters of the Emperor's Battle-Sisters?"

Eriko allows herself a small smile. "Shall we show you? Shall Vennedes too stay with this sinking ship"

SirLagginton · Feb 24, 2020

greendoor said:
She had to hold back an amused chuckle. The Lumenator had proven true after all. She hardly believed it, even seeing his part in quelling the riots.

"If you have seen us, Witch, then you must know this is a hopeless fight. The Emperor would not have sent us otherwise." Caelia says, gauntlet clutching the Slayer of 10,000's pistol grip. She half hoped the Witch would see the logic, half regretted saying it because if she'd seen them coming than she could've seen the result of a battle already anyway. Or possibly the results of multiple fights, given her hope in luck.

Curse the Witch's future sight!

She decides to a different tack. The Psyker did seem to care about her compatriot-the smaller flicker of redeeming virtues in her sinful actions.

"Your resistance is futile Witch. Surrender and neither you nor Vennedes need die. You can ask the Lumenator about Leanna's Mercy.." She says. "Surrender. If not for your soul, then for your Compatriots." She repeats, for emphasis, then begins to turn away from the switch.

"Otherwise, it will be Fire and Sword, and the Emperor's eternal condemnation."

(OOC: Almost certain persuasion isn't gonna work, but Caelia is the type to be relatively pragmatic here, even if she doesn't personally like it.)

Ilana chuckled, and then descended into full-blown laughter, her voice bleeding contempt for the person on the other side of the vox. "You seek treaty from a witch Sister, one that would seek the tender mercies of daemonkind rather than the Emperor upon his Throne. Mercy." Ilana spat venomously. "The Emperor offered it before, and the witch turned it away then. You fancy yourself in a position of power witch? That you spite the righteous by duping the foolish into your misguided rebellion and delay us? Leanne bled herself red in pursuit of her faith, and we not think twice of following her in her footsteps. Here is our promise, that in the end, you accomplish nothing more than the prolonging of your own suffering."

Ilana wished she could say she was disappointed, but the nature of the witch was to be conniving and deceitful, and who could say elsewise for those whose souls touched so closely with the tainting reality of the Warp. Struggle as the witch might, but there was nothing as inexorable in this universe as the faith of the Sisterhood, the witch merely hadn't realised it yet.

Shephard · Feb 27, 2020

greendoor said:
Caelia waited a moment, then turned to the nearest Brassneck, towering over the mercenary.

"Explain, if you will." She says, her voice filtered through the helmet. "What happened on this....supposed raid? What is this...brotherhood?"

The man shrinks under Caelia's gaze. "I don't know much, milady. All I heard were some lads were sent t' clear this place out some months ago, and well, it went badly. Not a lot made it," he says, shrugging helplessly. "Them Brotherhood types, now? Nothin' but anarchists and heretics. Callin' themselves the true disciples of the God-Emperor, even as they fight those He put in charge? Ain't right. And they're cowards, who won't ever give ya' a straight fight."

Zeitgeist Blue said:
"Focus on the methods employed against your comrades, particularly." Eriko comments immediately after. "If these same surprises are waiting for us I would rather know when they come than be ignorant."

The mercenary shudders for a moment, though his expression is invisible beneath his gas-hood his distress is obvious. "It ain't no matter, is it? You're Sororitas, not..." he pauses for a moment, hesitating. Then he motions a hand, vaguely in a western direction according to your helmet's spirit. "Weren't too far from 'ere, township to the eastern swamps. Big ol' labor dispute, so we got sent in by the Merud Guild to shut them up, expectin' to fire a few shots and kick in some teeth and make everything quit again. Not so much. Two months a' fighting, it were. I dunno what was worst, the mud or the snipers or how when you finally cornered the blighters they'd gland all the chems they could and go out swinging. Some former soldiers leading 'em, I'd call. Must've lost their spine after they punched their card though, way they fought."

greendoor said:
She had to hold back an amused chuckle. The Lumenator had proven true after all. She hardly believed it, even seeing his part in quelling the riots.

"If you have seen us, Witch, then you must know this is a hopeless fight. The Emperor would not have sent us otherwise." Caelia says, gauntlet clutching the Slayer of 10,000's pistol grip. She half hoped the Witch would see the logic, half regretted saying it because if she'd seen them coming than she could've seen the result of a battle already anyway. Or possibly the results of multiple fights, given her hope in luck.

Curse the Witch's future sight!

She decides to a different tack. The Psyker did seem to care about her compatriot-the smaller flicker of redeeming virtues in her sinful actions.

"Your resistance is futile Witch. Surrender and neither you nor Vennedes need die. You can ask the Lumenator about Leanna's Mercy.." She says. "Surrender. If not for your soul, then for your Compatriots." She repeats, for emphasis, then begins to turn away from the switch.

"Otherwise, it will be Fire and Sword, and the Emperor's eternal condemnation."

(OOC: Almost certain persuasion isn't gonna work, but Caelia is the type to be relatively pragmatic here, even if she doesn't personally like it.)

Her voice suddenly howls over the vox with all the fury and surprise of a storm on a bright summer day. "No, no, no, you're lying! You'll kill her, you'll kill everyone, because that's what you do! So much blood drips from your gun, it's a fething ocean! I can still hear them screaming in my dreams, and you want to tell me about mercy?" She snarls. "Feth you! Feth the priests who told me I was a good person, feth them for saying the Emperor loved me! Feth the guildsmen who sit back and do nothing, feth the PDF for leaving us to die, and feth that Arbitrator for not fething listening to me!"

The vox crackles with static and Eneresh's sobs. "I told him I didn't know what was going on, that I just wanted to help, that I didn't know anything about a cult-and the bitch shot me. But who can blame him? I'm a witch!" she says, giving a sad little laugh. "What's the Emperor's eternal condemnation matter? I'm a witch, I'm already damned!"

Zeitgeist Blue said:
Eriko nods, fingers clacking against her palm as she steps forward and it is all she could do to stop Storm of Summer from leaping forward and smashing the vox to cease Eneresh's deranged prattling.

"Think on our offer of mercy, Witch." Eriko's voice is harsh, screeching, as her armour recycles her voice, though it is clear that the Adepta Sororitas does not think much of Eneresh's propensity for rational thought. "Or not. For many of us, this is not our first conflict against Warp-Witches and Sorcerers of your ilk and neither would it be the last. But you, Witch, how many times have you faced down the bolters of the Emperor's Battle-Sisters?"

Eriko allows herself a small smile. "Shall we show you? Shall Vennedes too stay with this sinking ship"

There is a moment's pause, racked by Eneresh's sobs. "You have to know it's zero. You have to. I've never faced Sisters of Battle before, of course I haven't. But I never faced down Enforcers before. Or PDF. Or Cultists, or gangers, or church witch-hunters or a bloody Arbite before. It'd be another first, just like killing him," she says, her voice low. "I didn't even mean to. I didn't want to. I just wanted to make him stop, and then-I didn't mean for him to burn. But after that, I guess the rest came easy."

"I know I can win, I've seen it. I've seen you burn, but-" her voice catches in her throat for a moment. She swallows, wetly. "The few times I do, I wish you'd have killed me instead. I'm not even sure it's me that would win. Or something else with my face. And sometimes, maybe, I think, just maybe it'd be worth it to spite you. But Vennedes...Throne, she doesn't deserve you. None of these people do."

SirLagginton said:
Ilana chuckled, and then descended into full-blown laughter, her voice bleeding contempt for the person on the other side of the vox. "You seek treaty from a witch Sister, one that would seek the tender mercies of daemonkind rather than the Emperor upon his Throne. Mercy." Ilana spat venomously. "The Emperor offered it before, and the witch turned it away then. You fancy yourself in a position of power witch? That you spite the righteous by duping the foolish into your misguided rebellion and delay us? Leanne bled herself red in pursuit of her faith, and we not think twice of following her in her footsteps. Here is our promise, that in the end, you accomplish nothing more than the prolonging of your own suffering."

Ilana wished she could say she was disappointed, but the nature of the witch was to be conniving and deceitful, and who could say elsewise for those whose souls touched so closely with the tainting reality of the Warp. Struggle as the witch might, but there was nothing as inexorable in this universe as the faith of the Sisterhood, the witch merely hadn't realised it yet.

"A position of power?" She mutters. "I'm sorry if you want to try and make this more impressive by painting me as some arch-sorcerer looking arrogantly down on the righteous, you're going to be disappointed. I'm screwed. Completely and utterly fething screwed! I admit it! And the 'righteous'? I told them I'm not a Saint, I tried to tell them I'm unholy, not holy, but they don't listen. All they see is fire and the fact they're alive, and they call it a miracle. I didn't dupe anyone!" She shouts, weeping. "I never wanted any of this! I turned myself in, it's not my fault they broke my cell open!"

For a moment, the Sisters of Squad Palais hear the witch snarling and cursing to herself. Then, a sound joins the chorus of her anger. They hear the crackling of flames, hear Eneresh growling in fury in tune with it, and then in pain. For a moment, one could swear they could almost smell something over the vox, the stink of sulfur and charcoal. Then, as soon as the sound arrived, its gone, replaced with Eneresh punching something metallic and cursing under her breath.

"I'll tell them away. Tell them there's another route or something. They don't deserve to die just because I gave them hope. Promise me," she says, breathing deeply. "I suppose there's no point in that. I can't expect you'll keep a promise to me, and you can't expect me to hold to a promise anyway. Just, I ask you, don't hurt Vennedes or the others. Please."

Palais places her palm on the vox-engine. "Will you surrender to the custody of the Order of the Burning Rose?"

Eneresh just laughs at that. "How should I know? But if you don't hurry, it won't much matter, will it?"

Vahn snorts under his breath. "Slightly more swearing, but still as fond of vagaries as the typical witch of her oracular ilk."

@Mina @greendoor @SirLagginton @Zeitgeist Blue

Squad Palais' vox crackles with the confident voice of Sister-Superior Galena. "Palais, my squad's swept the basement and moved to securing the exits. Basement bunker is cleared, no sign of our targets, unfortunately. Lots of flooding though, and it seems someone else already came through. There's dead bodies everywhere. Looks like there was a whole elaborate ambush set up on the elevator, but they got torn apart," she says.

"Any idea what happened?" Palais asks.

"I saw obvious signs of cracking in the walls and flooring. Probably what caused the flooding, and my guess? Gave our heretics a way in. It looks like some of these gangers were trying to set up security, or patch up the holes, but they're not equipped for all this water."

"Those mutants would have been better," Eneresh sighs. "But of course, that'd require that the Pelagers weren't wrapped around the finger of the good Pater Tibim and that Bluejacket freak. Even when you're damned, the twists are still worthless."

Palais shakes her head at that. "Nevermind that, Eneresh, get this lift moving. Unless you were lying about our need to hurry?"

There's a brief pause over the vox-engine, and faintly the squad hears whispering and muttering. "Uhm. Yeah, I don't actually know how to get the lift running again."

"You didn't forsee this?" Zayneth asks.

"No," comes Eneresh's clipped response.

Zayneth sighs. "Bloody witches."

Palais snorts. "Who could've foreseen the psyker being unreliable?" She asks. "Squad, figure out a way up. Regardless of whether or not she's lying, turning off the elevator won't stop us."

Faith and Fire

Still in Statis

(Verified Door)

Currently Made of Metal

Shadow Cabal Caerbannog Bun-Bun

Still in Statis

(Verified Door)

Currently Made of Metal

Shadow Cabal Caerbannog Bun-Bun

Still in Statis

Currently Made of Metal

(Verified Door)

Still in Statis

(Verified Door)

Currently Made of Metal

Still in Statis

Currently Made of Metal

(Verified Door)

Shadow Cabal Caerbannog Bun-Bun

Still in Statis

(Verified Door)

Currently Made of Metal

Shadow Cabal Caerbannog Bun-Bun

Still in Statis