Faith and Fire

Shephard · Sep 18, 2020

greendoor said:
"You're right, probably nothing." Caelia decides to believe, as much as she says. It was best to not dwell on possible encounters and hypothetical presence.

"A bit too sweet." Caelia says, about her drink, trying to switch topics. She takes another sip anyway. "It's overpowering the other flavors."

Anna frowns, swirling the liquid in her glass. "Mrm, maybe a touch, yeah. Still, 'least it's not awful."

Macharius shrugs her shoulders. "I've found that 'too sweet' tends to be rather too popular in my experience."

greendoor said:
"That's the problem with the Greenskin. They're everywhere at once, and never seem to go away, even with a good purging." Caelia says, thinking back to her study of the histories and Tactica. "But they're more fit for the Navy and Guard's mass numbers to deal with, unless we're defending a fixed point." She adds.

"As long as we're talking hypotheticals, I'd be quite willing to lose however many limbs it'd take to fight alongside the Ironbreakers." Caelia says, dryly. She takes a sip of her small drink. "But yes, that'd really be glorious. No other way the Astartes would gift such Wargear if it wasn't."

SirLagginton said:
"To witness an Angel of Death at war is a blessing in of itself. I'd rather not lose a limb in the process though." Ilana gave a rueful smile. "However by the Emperor's grace I owe my life to Astartes, and I hope for the opportunity to fight alongside them before an eventual martyrdom."

The somber face of Sanguinius the Defender. The red black of angelic plate. A spear of light piercing through Neverending Night. The memories flashed through, vivid as ever, carrying both regret and reminder of her eternal gratitude to the God-Emperor for the opportunity for further service.

"Were it not for the Sisterhood, the Ork would have all of Sector Virensia if not Araxes," Sister Liandra says, her voice low. Her hands play along the Adamantium beads around her throat. "Much the same can be said of the Ironbreakers. Against the beast no amount of men and equipment can prevail. Make your armies as large as you wish, your guns as mighty as you desire, but all you will do is encourage them. They will come forward in greater numbers, build their guns bigger, and throw themselves against you with redoubled hate. It is only by proving yourself their better that you can defeat the Ork. You must meet them strength to strength, blow for blow, and in the end, only faith and fury will carry the day. It is the purest expression of war that there is. A battle of annihilation, of endurance, until only the mightiest remains standing."

She shakes her head. "Forgive me for waxing poetic. I have faith in Prince Cratos, but he will not win because of the vastness of his armies, but their quality and his own as a leader."

Macharius waves a hand and looks at Ilana curiously. "You've seen Astartes, before? The Ironbreakers?"

Anna sighs, considering her glass. "I'd ask you what they're like, but I've heard it all before. Our Order's got a close enough relationship with them that people can tell me about them or wear the campaign badges and all, but they're still rare enough I've never seen them. Might go my whole life with the closest thing I see to the real thing being the statues outside the temples I'm guarding."

Liana nods her head. "Perhaps not as glorious as the whole thing, but it's a necessary task regardless. The Emperor gives of each of us a task. Even I've never seen an Ironbreaker, and I've served on the same battlefields as them."

"They say that there's barely an Astartes for every world in the Imperium. I suppose we're blessed to even have a chance of seeing them," Anna replies.

greendoor said:
She shakes her head. "I'd regale you with the valiant stories of my people defending all Araxes against the hordes of the damned sector, but they seem to be inconsiderately quiet lately." She says. She pauses a moment to drink. "Just some low level skirmishing and fighting out in the Matarkin Marches." She concurs with Macharius.

She shudders to think about what she's heard of the Marches. She almost for a second felt thankful she'd been only assigned to Dreverarch.

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

Anna runs a hand through her red hair. "To be honest? I'm betting we'll be on guard duty. Cardinals and Cathedrals mayhaps, or some of the more isolated shrines and monasteries."

Liandra peers at the other woman. "Gambling isn't befitting of the Sisterhood."

"What, you've never heard the expression before?"

Liandra takes a sip of her amasec. "I certainly have, but the point stands."

Anna raises her hands in surrender, and polishes off her amasec. "...Y'know, this really isn't bad. Maybe not everything on Dreverarch is terrible."

SirLagginton said:
"Sister Katherine." Ilana nodded in turn. "Alas, the warp spawn fled to haunt the Imperium another day. I can only hope that we would be blessed with the opportunity to rectrify that failing. Still, we foiled whatever plans the beast had for the witch, and I will have to remain content with that much. Hopefully I can delay the next glorious scar enough that the judging gazes of our Hospitaller brethren are not quite so severe, sometimes I wonder if they believe us determined to make their lives harder for them."

Ilana spared a glance for the protodeacon across the room, smiling wryly. "Not much blessed oils for the stoves huh?" She wondered how one of the Martian priests would react.

"Oh, I wouldn't think too much of it. It's not like we take many casualties compared to a Guard field hospital or the ilk," Katherine comments. "When you get bored like that, it's all too easy to get irritable. And I suspect that it might be for appearances' sake. I for one wouldn't much care to enter a Hospitaller station where everyone was all smiles and cheering."

Badr chuckles at Katherine's comment, before catching Illana's own. His brow wrinkles as he glances between her and the stoves. "I'm just being careful, is all," the Protodeacon replies. "It's a sin to be wasteful if you ask me!"

"He's so generous with food it makes him miserly in everything else," One of the menials comments as she unloads eggs.

Badr laughs heartily, putting a hand over his heart. "You wound me, Sarai! Ah, forgive the lass for her tongue, Sister, for she's young and sometimes her tongue gets ahead of her brain. But then, which of us haven't been like that?"

Katherine raises a hand. Badr pauses a moment, then bows his head in defeat. "That's hardly fair: We can't all be Adepta Sororitas. In any case, I find that if you apply just the right amount of oil, it helps keep the stoves hungry. Cook a bit better, and then you give them a touch of oils afterward as a reward. I'm sure a Tech-Priest would know better than I, but it's enough of the rites to get my humble kitchen aside."

SirLagginton said:
"Of course, a hearty meal leaves ample room for faith. A pleasure, Protodeacon Badr." Ilana said, feeling cheerful despite her early rising. She knelt down to start rummaging through the boxes, grabbing a rack of eggs to place at the indicated table. "Well I certainly would have some explaining to the Sister-Superior if we all must do battle with homicidal eggs." She grinned at what Palais' face would be like to such a tale. "Still, today I'd rather start off with breakfast rather than glory, as noble a calling as the latter is."

"Badr would suffice, if you prefer, Sister. Or well, anything else you want to call me," Badr says as the stoves awaken and their cooking pads begin to glow with heat. "You're the Sister, ultimately."

Katherine concurs with Ilana's assessment. "I don't think they'd add evil eggs to the Order annals. I'll take a full stomach over...Well, if you can even call that glory. I suppose if it's an enemy of mankind, there's always some glory in it..." she mulls to herself.

Cooking for nigh on a hundred Sisters (Plus a fair bit of the support staff) is certainly not the easiest task in the world, but ultimately it's a matter of doing up the food in large batches. Eggs are cooked up the dozens, bowls full of flour and cream mixed and poured out, and whole slabs of grox daubed in spices and seasoning before being smoked. It is the lattermost timing that proves most crucial, as morning prayers are well underway by the time they're ready to be pulled out of the oven and pulled apart. It's hardly as difficult as Illana's typical training or her many trials as a novitiate, but cooking en masse in this way is nonetheless hard and hot work. It's only thanks to the heat absorbent weave of her robes that she doesn't sweat more. Both Ilana and Katherine are certainly not as practiced as the menials are Badr, but the protodeacon nonetheless appreciates the aid and is as liberal with thanks and compliments as he is with corrections (always politely put).

It doesn't seem that long before the Sisters begin entering the refectory, and Sister Ilana is ladling out oatmeal and eggs, Sisters giving their greetings and thanks as they drift past.

"Emperor's blessings upon all of you, and my thanks asides," Sister Salvus says, taking a tray in her bionic hands. "Sisters," She says, nodding at Ilana and Katherine.

Mina said:
Maria wiped her hands on a rag and shook mortar from her trowel. Looking down along the wall she tried to gauge the work left, the removal to be done, the remaining stocks.

The first thing she'd said in hours was to the sister just down the way as she tore out damaged brickwork. "Might want to slow the work until replacement is caught up. Stocks won't last."

The other Sister blinks and glances at Maria, as though she had forgotten the Retributor was there. "Good point," she grunts after a moment, and the two Sisters went back to work in silence. Just a touch slower paced silence than prior.

greendoor said:
"I don't mind if Sister Eriko doesn't." Caelia says. She glances at Eriko, gauging if such an arrangement would be acceptable. "What rules are we using?" She asked, as much as to clarify as to refresh herself on the often complicated ruleset of Scrumball.

While she waited an answer she began to stretch in preparation. In truth it had been some time since she's seen such a field, and she wanted to be at her best and most prepared. Her opponents were no mere Tempestii who preffered sneaking to a good fight, or Navy Officers who could barely form a formation. They were fellow sisters, and they merited respect.

(OOC: Reminder Caelia's still doing the Priest escort)

Zeitgeist Blue said:
"Not at all, Sister-Superior." Eriko shakes her head. "Were you the one who had arranged these games? I was surprised when I heard of them. A window to young adulthood, one could say."

"North Thallisa Union rules. I have a Dataslate, if you wish to review, but it should be broadly similar to Velorum League rules," Resedes replies, stretching in place. "It's a bit freer with the number of players, given that we won't have the people or room for full teams."

She glances at Eriko and gives a firm nod of her head. "Sports are a fine way to exercise the mind and body outside of drills. It's a glorious celebration of the holy human form in all its glory and splendor. Outside of blessed combat, there's surely no better demonstration of all the natural gifts the God-Emperor gave us, and certainly, it's a great deal more entertaining. Scrum-ball, I must admit, was something my Schola never really played much of. I picked up most of the game from a Bishop I was assigned to bodyguard: He was quite the fan of it."

Zeitgeist Blue said:
Eriko moves towards Greiland and as she nears she hefts her duffel bag up so that Greiland may see it.

"It seems I will be playing with your team, Sister Greiland. Allow me to change and I can begin warming up."

She looked around the court to her team and the opposing team. Then she returns her gaze back to Greiland. "Would this be the first of the scrumball games you had played, Sister? Or would you know who we should watch out for in the opposing team? Who may be their star athlete?"

Greiland wrinkles her nose, peering across the field. "Haven't played any yet today, unfortunately, though I did see Resedes I saw play at a smaller game some weeks ago. She's really good at flanking and running the ball. Aside from her? Sorry, no idea."

"Glad to have you on the team, Sister, in any case," Greiland says.

greendoor said:
(OOC: Reminder Caelia's still doing the Priest escort)

When Caelia meets with Legatine Lethicia, the latter is still wearing her armour and returning from leading an expedition to follow some leads on likely cult hide-outs. By the lack of markings on her armour or that of the other Sisters' who went, not much in the way of heretics to slay. Still, they seem in fair enough spirits, and the Legatine's expression brightens instantly when Caelia walks up and offers to volunteer.

"The Arch-Priest, ah good. Constantius Sorjik the Third. I'll put in word to the Temple District and have them send down transport. You'll probably only be with him for a few days before Jessira transfers over a Sister to take over security. Thank you, Sister."

That night a gyrocopter arrives for Sister Caelia, the sigil of the Ministorum emblazoned on its side. The pilot, a heavily augmented individual of indeterminate gender greets Caelia anxiously as the Sister boards. An anti-viral spray coats the interior of the craft before it takes off, leaving the Sister's face tingling as the craft rises into the air. Below, the industry choked and often flooded warrens of the districts the locals refer to as the 'bilges' fall away as the aircraft follows up the hill rise the city is built upon. And then higher yet, up the artificial plateau at the city's center, to the Rise. Golden statues of holy Selverus tower above the rows of wide streets and well cared for buildings below as surely as a Warlord-Titan would, his gladius uplifted to the heavens and the pale moon light-catching upon the gold of his aquiline features. Through the gyrocopter's window Caelia can see details she missed on the initial entry, like the Laurels upon the statues' heads or the faded engravings across their armour and armaments.

Flanked by two of the statues she can make out the vastness of the city's space port lit by guiding beacons and landing strip lights and shifting spotlights from gun towers and patrolling craft. A pair of heavy Tetrarch landers bearing the stamp of House Merud land, dozens of vehicles beginning to roll out from their cavernous interior. The gyrocopter shifts, taking the craft the long way around a sprawling palace surrounded by kilometers of what appears to be gardens, let only by lights along the main paths and the heavy rockcrete walls surrounding.

"Palace for the governor when he's visiting the holy port, or any of his family," The pilot croaks through their vox-coder. "It's empty at the moment of anyone save staff and security, but it's still a no-fly zone overhead. They usually had the gardens open to the public, but they've been sealed up."

The gyrocopter sweeps over the city streets. The roads below are wide and clean compared to what Caelia had seen in the Little-Cog district, though they maintain the same meandering quality and at times seem to descend into an absolutely bewildering morass of seemingly random paths. Expansive manors give way to sizeable homes and then modest apartment complexes at the edges of the Rise, which remain far and above the tenements of the bilges. The streets are busy with rumbling autocarriages and the occasional grav-speeder, and all manner of buses for service workers and or the middle-class government functionaries, enforcers and other individuals who service the Rise, but the traffic moves slowly due to the numerous enforcer checkpoints set up throughout the streets.

"Damned shame, if you'll pardon my language, Sister. Hard to even get to the Cathedral for services with the checkpoints and all this going on about. The Rise used to seem so safe, y'know? Then the recent troubles. Not to mention everyone's terrified of that 'plague' in that district you were in. You should see some of the hazmat suits the fashion boutiques are putting out. Anyway, we're coming up on your convent. Prepare for landing, Sister."

Zeitgeist Blue · Sep 21, 2020

Mina said:
Maria took the glass and, as Eriko worried, indicated the floor. She dropped into a low squat and swirled the liquor in the glass.

"Stepped off without your chute," she finally said, tossing the drink back. "Or blundered down the wrong tunnel. I don't say the foot thing. Sister Superior has already spoken to me and I will not betray her trust or dishonor my sisters."

Eriko hums as Maria speaks.

"Neither will I. So I am glad we are of one mind regarding our actions moving forward," Eriko says as she places her cups on the floor. Then, gingerly, she takes off her shoes and places them beside her, finally sitting on her buttocks while she laid her legs to the side. A sitting mat would have made it easier on her thighs and buttocks.

She took the two small cups and laid them between the two of them, before she took the warm amasec and poured into Maria's cup then her own. She raised her cup. <Cheers!> She says in her own tongue. "Cheers! For our same mind. May we continue moving in harmony from now on."

She downed her drink in one gulp then placed it before her, moving to refill the cups again.

"I would imagine it was not very becoming for two veteran Sisters to engage openly in petty sniping." She quirks an eyebrow as she fills Maria's cup. "I assume you had been with the Order for many a year now, a Sister of Battle since the Schola Progenium. Or am I mistaken?"

Eriko slides the filled cup forward, hand retracting smoothly back into her sleeves. "Where were you stationed before Almium Magna, before the Mission had been raised?" Eriko's eye slides downward almost imperceptibly, making contact not with Maria's eyes but the other Sister's nose and lower face.

"After my retraining with the Order, I had been posted for a few years in shrines along busy pilgrimage sites and routes in The Crown where the most trouble I had to deal with were pirates, small bands of cultist, or nosy nobles, nothing like the fighting in Almium Magna or this world. Routine work and not terribly interesting story material but it allowed me a chance to experience first-hand what the Burning Rose was."

greendoor said:
"Scrum, yes." Caelia says, confidently. "I like to be in the thick of it. Best place to be, face to face with the enemy." She adds, only half jokingly.

"You ever face fellow Sisters?" She asked. Eriko was more experienced, so perhaps she would've. The advice might serve, and she doubted someone like Eriko had many stories of great victories upon the Scrumball field with which to feel superior about.

"The Velorum Schola ran teams based on training vocation, so I've faced everyone but other Sisters." She shrugs.

Eriko shakes her head at Caelia's question. "Several times during the Schola Progenium, mostly as practice against other teams, but that was years and years ago, an entire chapter and several before now. I'd rate myself hopelessly rusty but with how these games were advertised."

She sighs dramatically. "No, I am looking forward more for a chance to stretch my limbs and work out a sweat without work on my mind than to win games."

Shephard said:
"North Thallisa Union rules. I have a Dataslate, if you wish to review, but it should be broadly similar to Velorum League rules," Resedes replies, stretching in place. "It's a bit freer with the number of players, given that we won't have the people or room for full teams."

She glances at Eriko and gives a firm nod of her head. "Sports are a fine way to exercise the mind and body outside of drills. It's a glorious celebration of the holy human form in all its glory and splendor. Outside of blessed combat, there's surely no better demonstration of all the natural gifts the God-Emperor gave us, and certainly, it's a great deal more entertaining. Scrum-ball, I must admit, was something my Schola never really played much of. I picked up most of the game from a Bishop I was assigned to bodyguard: He was quite the fan of it."

"Truly, sport is ubiquitous to all walks of life," Eriko says. "Or age. I can imagine your Bishop followed their favorite team as if it was populated by Saint-blessed men and women. Cheering and booing as one with the masses, perhaps?" Eriko shakes her head. "Sports unfortunately never held that level of fascination upon me."

She spies Greiland and gives a small bow to both Ressedes and Caelia. "I spy my team leader and so farewell. I shall see the both of you in court."

Shephard said:
Greiland wrinkles her nose, peering across the field. "Haven't played any yet today, unfortunately, though I did see Resedes I saw play at a smaller game some weeks ago. She's really good at flanking and running the ball. Aside from her? Sorry, no idea."

"Glad to have you on the team, Sister, in any case," Greiland says.

"I hope that sentiment stays as we continue the game," Eriko says with an unlady-like snort and a smile to take the sting away. "If I am to match against Resedes I hope to acquit well enough to not embarrass myself or the team." She turns around and finds the way to the shower area. "In any case, Sister, I will see you in ten."

***

In ten minutes Eriko is changed and doing warm-ups beside Greiland again. Eriko pauses, mid-stretch to look at her Sister. "Sister-Greiland, I had heard you were responsible for a play during our transit to Dreverarch. Would you have a another play in the works soon?"

greendoor · Sep 24, 2020

Shephard said:
"Were it not for the Sisterhood, the Ork would have all of Sector Virensia if not Araxes," Sister Liandra says, her voice low. Her hands play along the Adamantium beads around her throat. "Much the same can be said of the Ironbreakers. Against the beast no amount of men and equipment can prevail. Make your armies as large as you wish, your guns as mighty as you desire, but all you will do is encourage them. They will come forward in greater numbers, build their guns bigger, and throw themselves against you with redoubled hate. It is only by proving yourself their better that you can defeat the Ork. You must meet them strength to strength, blow for blow, and in the end, only faith and fury will carry the day. It is the purest expression of war that there is. A battle of annihilation, of endurance, until only the mightiest remains standing."

She shakes her head. "Forgive me for waxing poetic. I have faith in Prince Cratos, but he will not win because of the vastness of his armies, but their quality and his own as a leader."

Caelia shakes her head. "A point well taken, but you mistake me, Sister. I am well aware of the qualities of the Imperial Guard and PDFs and their leadership-half my ancestors and family are officers in it, after all."

"I merely meant that we are a small force, best used in concentration in a fixed defensive point or on hunt and kill missions. We can't hold down an entire warfront by ourselves, especially against a foe with such teeming numbers as the Greenskin." She clarifies.

+++++++++++

Shephard said:
"North Thallisa Union rules. I have a Dataslate, if you wish to review, but it should be broadly similar to Velorum League rules," Resedes replies, stretching in place. "It's a bit freer with the number of players, given that we won't have the people or room for full teams."

"I'll take a look regardless." Caelia says. Best to be careful and know the rules than assume you knew them.

She took the excuse to think about the potential teams, strengths and weaknesses, and potential tactics. She didn't know all the sisters here, but she knew some of them, and she could make guesses for the rest of them.

(OOC: Caelia will try to assess the other players and scan the rules)

Zeitgeist Blue said:
"Truly, sport is ubiquitous to all walks of life," Eriko says. "Or age. I can imagine your Bishop followed their favorite team as if it was populated by Saint-blessed men and women. Cheering and booing as one with the masses, perhaps?" Eriko shakes her head. "Sports unfortunately never held that level of fascination upon me."

She spies Greiland and gives a small bow to both Ressedes and Caelia. "I spy my team leader and so farewell. I shall see the both of you in court."

Caelia looks up from the dataslate as Eriko leaves. "If you want to see us in court, I'd suggest finding a Barrister first." She says, dryly. Then "I'll see you across the field, Sister. Good luck."

++++++++++

Shephard said:
When Caelia meets with Legatine Lethicia, the latter is still wearing her armour and returning from leading an expedition to follow some leads on likely cult hide-outs. By the lack of markings on her armour or that of the other Sisters' who went, not much in the way of heretics to slay. Still, they seem in fair enough spirits, and the Legatine's expression brightens instantly when Caelia walks up and offers to volunteer.

"The Arch-Priest, ah good. Constantius Sorjik the Third. I'll put in word to the Temple District and have them send down transport. You'll probably only be with him for a few days before Jessira transfers over a Sister to take over security. Thank you, Sister."

That night a gyrocopter arrives for Sister Caelia, the sigil of the Ministorum emblazoned on its side. The pilot, a heavily augmented individual of indeterminate gender greets Caelia anxiously as the Sister boards. An anti-viral spray coats the interior of the craft before it takes off, leaving the Sister's face tingling as the craft rises into the air. Below, the industry choked and often flooded warrens of the districts the locals refer to as the 'bilges' fall away as the aircraft follows up the hill rise the city is built upon. And then higher yet, up the artificial plateau at the city's center, to the Rise. Golden statues of holy Selverus tower above the rows of wide streets and well cared for buildings below as surely as a Warlord-Titan would, his gladius uplifted to the heavens and the pale moon light-catching upon the gold of his aquiline features. Through the gyrocopter's window Caelia can see details she missed on the initial entry, like the Laurels upon the statues' heads or the faded engravings across their armour and armaments.

Flanked by two of the statues she can make out the vastness of the city's space port lit by guiding beacons and landing strip lights and shifting spotlights from gun towers and patrolling craft. A pair of heavy Tetrarch landers bearing the stamp of House Merud land, dozens of vehicles beginning to roll out from their cavernous interior. The gyrocopter shifts, taking the craft the long way around a sprawling palace surrounded by kilometers of what appears to be gardens, let only by lights along the main paths and the heavy rockcrete walls surrounding.

"Constantius Sorjik the Third." Caelia mulls over the word, making sure she got the pronunciation right, as they flew in over the city. "What can you tell me about the Arch-Priest, pilot?" She asks.

While she awaited her answer, she looked out over the city. Objectively, it was not that impressive. She'd seen cities of greater splendor on Velorum, had lived in them, and trained in them in her time in the Schola.

Still, compared to the slums it was an impressive sight, a sign of proper civilization on a world that had been nothing but slums, swamps, and admittedly rather important promethium infrastructure. Here there there statues, manors, wide and clean roads, proper vehicles, and plenty of workers who weren't burdened by urban fighting or plague.

Compared to the poverty, plague, abhumans, and insurgency in the Little Cog district it seemed like a different planet.

Shephard said:
"Palace for the governor when he's visiting the holy port, or any of his family," The pilot croaks through their vox-coder. "It's empty at the moment of anyone save staff and security, but it's still a no-fly zone overhead. They usually had the gardens open to the public, but they've been sealed up."

The gyrocopter sweeps over the city streets. The roads below are wide and clean compared to what Caelia had seen in the Little-Cog district, though they maintain the same meandering quality and at times seem to descend into an absolutely bewildering morass of seemingly random paths. Expansive manors give way to sizeable homes and then modest apartment complexes at the edges of the Rise, which remain far and above the tenements of the bilges. The streets are busy with rumbling autocarriages and the occasional grav-speeder, and all manner of buses for service workers and or the middle-class government functionaries, enforcers and other individuals who service the Rise, but the traffic moves slowly due to the numerous enforcer checkpoints set up throughout the streets.

"Damned shame, if you'll pardon my language, Sister. Hard to even get to the Cathedral for services with the checkpoints and all this going on about. The Rise used to seem so safe, y'know? Then the recent troubles. Not to mention everyone's terrified of that 'plague' in that district you were in. You should see some of the hazmat suits the fashion boutiques are putting out. Anyway, we're coming up on your convent. Prepare for landing, Sister."

Caelia pauses a moment before she replies to take in that statement. Another way this world was different from Velorum. Though it's cities might be vast and splendorous as any on this world, it's privileged classes and Noble houses would never take an insurgency and plague within the same city with such a limited response as a surge in hazmat suit sales and a few more checkpoints. Vigilance was a virtue.

She supposed she couldn't blame the people here. The Little Cog and the Rise seemed like almost entirely different cities, and as the pilot had said, they must've felt like they'd been safe before the fighting in the lower city.

"It's well worth being terrified of." Caelia replies to the pilot. "Though the quarantine seems to be quite effective, if fashionable Hazmat suits and a few checkpoints is all you have to trouble you."

A moment passes, then she nods. "I'll be prepared. Thank you for your services, Pilot."

SirLagginton · Sep 25, 2020

Shephard said:
"Were it not for the Sisterhood, the Ork would have all of Sector Virensia if not Araxes," Sister Liandra says, her voice low. Her hands play along the Adamantium beads around her throat. "Much the same can be said of the Ironbreakers. Against the beast no amount of men and equipment can prevail. Make your armies as large as you wish, your guns as mighty as you desire, but all you will do is encourage them. They will come forward in greater numbers, build their guns bigger, and throw themselves against you with redoubled hate. It is only by proving yourself their better that you can defeat the Ork. You must meet them strength to strength, blow for blow, and in the end, only faith and fury will carry the day. It is the purest expression of war that there is. A battle of annihilation, of endurance, until only the mightiest remains standing."

She shakes her head. "Forgive me for waxing poetic. I have faith in Prince Cratos, but he will not win because of the vastness of his armies, but their quality and his own as a leader."

Macharius waves a hand and looks at Ilana curiously. "You've seen Astartes, before? The Ironbreakers?"

Anna sighs, considering her glass. "I'd ask you what they're like, but I've heard it all before. Our Order's got a close enough relationship with them that people can tell me about them or wear the campaign badges and all, but they're still rare enough I've never seen them. Might go my whole life with the closest thing I see to the real thing being the statues outside the temples I'm guarding."

Liana nods her head. "Perhaps not as glorious as the whole thing, but it's a necessary task regardless. The Emperor gives of each of us a task. Even I've never seen an Ironbreaker, and I've served on the same battlefields as them."

"They say that there's barely an Astartes for every world in the Imperium. I suppose we're blessed to even have a chance of seeing them," Anna replies.

Ilana shook her head at Machrius' query. "The Knights Requiem as providence would have it, not the Ironbreakers. They happened to be pursuing the Oblivion cultists that would invade Savine's Hope, my home at the time." She shrugged a bit too deliberately, for all the knowledge that all of her sisters shared the same painful experiences of the loss of family, it was still something of a raw memory. "They saved my life and would help set me on the path to the Sisterhood. Bless Sanguinius the Defender."

"Well, it's not like they would remember me anyway, unlike the blessed Cannoness." Ilana laughed. "It's hardly as if this is the first time they've rescued a little girl from a broken temple."

Shephard said:
Anna runs a hand through her red hair. "To be honest? I'm betting we'll be on guard duty. Cardinals and Cathedrals mayhaps, or some of the more isolated shrines and monasteries."

Liandra peers at the other woman. "Gambling isn't befitting of the Sisterhood."

"What, you've never heard the expression before?"

Liandra takes a sip of her amasec. "I certainly have, but the point stands."

Anna raises her hands in surrender, and polishes off her amasec. "...Y'know, this really isn't bad. Maybe not everything on Dreverarch is terrible."

"Where did even get wanderoak-barreled amasec I wonder?" Ilana mused thoughtfully as she swirled her glass around. "I don't think it's one of the rarer subspecies, but it's hardly common. Someone paid good thrones for this bounty, praise be the throne." She chuckled at Anna. "We are servants of the Church, so such tasks are hardly a surprise. I'll be grateful that they'll be meaningful tasks, unlike that poor PDF soldier I saw the other day sent out to mop up in the rain."

Shephard said:
"Oh, I wouldn't think too much of it. It's not like we take many casualties compared to a Guard field hospital or the ilk," Katherine comments. "When you get bored like that, it's all too easy to get irritable. And I suspect that it might be for appearances' sake. I for one wouldn't much care to enter a Hospitaller station where everyone was all smiles and cheering."

Badr chuckles at Katherine's comment, before catching Illana's own. His brow wrinkles as he glances between her and the stoves. "I'm just being careful, is all," the Protodeacon replies. "It's a sin to be wasteful if you ask me!"

"He's so generous with food it makes him miserly in everything else," One of the menials comments as she unloads eggs.

Badr laughs heartily, putting a hand over his heart. "You wound me, Sarai! Ah, forgive the lass for her tongue, Sister, for she's young and sometimes her tongue gets ahead of her brain. But then, which of us haven't been like that?"

Katherine raises a hand. Badr pauses a moment, then bows his head in defeat. "That's hardly fair: We can't all be Adepta Sororitas. In any case, I find that if you apply just the right amount of oil, it helps keep the stoves hungry. Cook a bit better, and then you give them a touch of oils afterward as a reward. I'm sure a Tech-Priest would know better than I, but it's enough of the rites to get my humble kitchen aside."

"It's not my place to dispute the working of your kitchen Protodeacon." Ilana conceded easily enough. "The bounty of this kitchen has been generous in my experience, I can hardly argue with proven results. In any case, I'll take generous food in return for misery elsewhere, and let that be the end of that lest a Martian priest over hear us." Ilana looked around faux-conspiratorially. "I for one appreciate the lack of angry binary in the ears over a presumed mistreatment of the machine spirits."

Shephard said:
"Badr would suffice, if you prefer, Sister. Or well, anything else you want to call me," Badr says as the stoves awaken and their cooking pads begin to glow with heat. "You're the Sister, ultimately."

Katherine concurs with Ilana's assessment. "I don't think they'd add evil eggs to the Order annals. I'll take a full stomach over...Well, if you can even call that glory. I suppose if it's an enemy of mankind, there's always some glory in it..." she mulls to herself.

Cooking for nigh on a hundred Sisters (Plus a fair bit of the support staff) is certainly not the easiest task in the world, but ultimately it's a matter of doing up the food in large batches. Eggs are cooked up the dozens, bowls full of flour and cream mixed and poured out, and whole slabs of grox daubed in spices and seasoning before being smoked. It is the lattermost timing that proves most crucial, as morning prayers are well underway by the time they're ready to be pulled out of the oven and pulled apart. It's hardly as difficult as Illana's typical training or her many trials as a novitiate, but cooking en masse in this way is nonetheless hard and hot work. It's only thanks to the heat absorbent weave of her robes that she doesn't sweat more. Both Ilana and Katherine are certainly not as practiced as the menials are Badr, but the protodeacon nonetheless appreciates the aid and is as liberal with thanks and compliments as he is with corrections (always politely put).

It doesn't seem that long before the Sisters begin entering the refectory, and Sister Ilana is ladling out oatmeal and eggs, Sisters giving their greetings and thanks as they drift past.

"Emperor's blessings upon all of you, and my thanks asides," Sister Salvus says, taking a tray in her bionic hands. "Sisters," She says, nodding at Ilana and Katherine.

"Badr then, a pleasure." Ilana nodded in acknowledgement as she rolled up her sleeves. She was hardly the most experienced cook but even she knew that it could be messy work once you were into the thick of it. "I only pray that I prove to no hindrance to your kitchen with my inexperience."

It was, Ilana reflected a half-hour later, not the most complex of work if you listened carefully to instructions. But it was hard, repetitive work that required constant focus and the ability to multitask in a loud, bustling kitchen. The protodeacon had kept her mostly on the bread, working and shaping the dough enough for no less than two dozen loaves and probably then some before being tasked to attend to the remainder of the eggs. Not the most glamorous of work either, but it was meaningful enough, and as she saw her Sisters giving their appreciation she wondered if moments like these were what Badr lived for.

"Sister Salvus." Ilana greeted back as she served generous portions of scrambled eggs and oatmeal on to her sister's plate. She was well aware of the calories one burned in their duties as one of the Emperor's Daughters. "Best of luck at the scrumball today, though you'll have to excuse me if my loudest cheers will be for Caelia and Eriko on the field."

Shephard · Sep 26, 2020

Zeitgeist Blue said:
"Truly, sport is ubiquitous to all walks of life," Eriko says. "Or age. I can imagine your Bishop followed their favorite team as if it was populated by Saint-blessed men and women. Cheering and booing as one with the masses, perhaps?" Eriko shakes her head. "Sports unfortunately never held that level of fascination upon me."

She spies Greiland and gives a small bow to both Ressedes and Caelia. "I spy my team leader and so farewell. I shall see the both of you in court."

"With the masses? Hardly?" Resedes comments. "They had a private booth. There was that time we got caught in one of the post-game riots. Exciting, though I remain confused why they were setting things on fire when their team won." She shrugs her shoulders.

She nods at the Sister's farewell. "Good luck out there, Sister Eriko."

Zeitgeist Blue said:
In ten minutes Eriko is changed and doing warm-ups beside Greiland again. Eriko pauses, mid-stretch to look at her Sister. "Sister-Greiland, I had heard you were responsible for a play during our transit to Dreverarch. Would you have a another play in the works soon?"

Greiland shakes her head, shoulders slumping. "Too difficult to do whilst we're in the midst of all this conflict. We've discussed possible scripts once our work here is done, but besides that? Nothing really. Things like impromptu Scrumball games are just easier to fit in."

"Though the way Sister-Superior Resedes speaks, you'd think she finds this more pious than a passion play."

greendoor said:
"I'll take a look regardless." Caelia says. Best to be careful and know the rules than assume you knew them.

She took the excuse to think about the potential teams, strengths and weaknesses, and potential tactics. She didn't know all the sisters here, but she knew some of them, and she could make guesses for the rest of them.

(OOC: Caelia will try to assess the other players and scan the rules)

OOC: Just look up rugby or something iunno.

IC: Caelia scans through the rules, analyzing subtle differences in the wording of this and that rule from what she recalls. As for the opposition, Eriko claimed she preferred to be a flanker. Greiland is a Retributor, and a few of the other Sisters with them seem to be from Retributor Squad Morane. A strong and durable front-line, with a great deal of patience. Caelia's own team is a more mixed group, but there's a number of Dominions. Her team will likely be a bit stronger at flanking and being aggressive than on the defense. Her side also has a bit more leadership in the Sister-Superiors, though this is reduced by the team being a mix of squads.

greendoor said:
Caelia shakes her head. "A point well taken, but you mistake me, Sister. I am well aware of the qualities of the Imperial Guard and PDFs and their leadership-half my ancestors and family are officers in it, after all."

"I merely meant that we are a small force, best used in concentration in a fixed defensive point or on hunt and kill missions. We can't hold down an entire warfront by ourselves, especially against a foe with such teeming numbers as the Greenskin." She clarifies.

Anna snorts. "Numbers don't matter against the power of faith. The Ork can come in as many numbers as they wish: We'll always prevail in the end."

Macharius leans her brawny arms forward as she considers. "You'd be correct, Sister Caelia, depending on your definition of 'entire warfront'. All of the Veraul Reaches? An entire planet? A continent? A scrumball field?" she says. "It's hard to have a debate with inexact definitions, no, Eloheim?"

Liandra nods at Macharius in agreement. "True, Sister Macharius. But the Sisterhood has fought and won many battles against the Greenskin that were more than a fixed defensive point or a hunt and kill mission."

"True," Macharius sighs, waving a hand to concede the point.

SirLagginton said:
Ilana shook her head at Machrius' query. "The Knights Requiem as providence would have it, not the Ironbreakers. They happened to be pursuing the Oblivion cultists that would invade Savine's Hope, my home at the time." She shrugged a bit too deliberately, for all the knowledge that all of her sisters shared the same painful experiences of the loss of family, it was still something of a raw memory. "They saved my life and would help set me on the path to the Sisterhood. Bless Sanguinius the Defender."

"Well, it's not like they would remember me anyway, unlike the blessed Cannoness." Ilana laughed. "It's hardly as if this is the first time they've rescued a little girl from a broken temple."

"The Knights Requiem? From Verantis?" Macharius asks, surprised. "Blood Angel descendants, aren't they?"

"That's right. Loyal to the Ministorum, aside. Not like most Space Marines, not even the Ironbreakers," Anna comments. At Liandra's skeptical look, she raises her hands defensively. "Not that our Battle-Brothers in the Ironbreakers don't worship the God-Emperor in their fashion, but it's not like they listen much to the Ecclesiarchy. The Knights Requiem are the Angels a Cardinal can trust to answer their call."

Liandra looks at Ilana. "How did Oblivion cultists get to Savine's Hope?"

"Presumably, they took a ship," Macharius comments, dryly.

Liandra pauses, then bows her head in acquiesce. "You have a point. I'm merely surprised, is all. It is far from their usual haunt, about the Edge of Oblivion."

SirLagginton said:
"Where did even get wanderoak-barreled amasec I wonder?" Ilana mused thoughtfully as she swirled her glass around. "I don't think it's one of the rarer subspecies, but it's hardly common. Someone paid good thrones for this bounty, praise be the throne." She chuckled at Anna. "We are servants of the Church, so such tasks are hardly a surprise. I'll be grateful that they'll be meaningful tasks, unlike that poor PDF soldier I saw the other day sent out to mop up in the rain."

"I once saw an Imperial Guardsman rake sand. We were on Ashanda. It's nothing but sand," Anna laughs, shaking her head. "Anything's better than that. And at least it'll be a sacred undertaking, even if they're not exactly glorious!"

She considers the amasec for a moment, mulling. "Hrm. Wanderoak. Well, y'know, we're right next to the planet's largest spaceport, and from what little I've heard it's pretty bustling. Might be a whole lot of this imported in."

"Could it be grown locally?" Macharius asks. "Moving trees sound apropos for this world."

SirLagginton said:
"It's not my place to dispute the working of your kitchen Protodeacon." Ilana conceded easily enough. "The bounty of this kitchen has been generous in my experience, I can hardly argue with proven results. In any case, I'll take generous food in return for misery elsewhere, and let that be the end of that lest a Martian priest over hear us." Ilana looked around faux-conspiratorially. "I for one appreciate the lack of angry binary in the ears over a presumed mistreatment of the machine spirits."

"Nevermind binary, have you heard that Tech-Priest?" Badr says, shuddering.

"Maloc?" Katherine intones. It is not a question.

"Creepy skull mask Tech-Priest, right," Badr replies, ignoring his own skeletal visage. "Have you heard him when he's angry? I'd bet my left leg he's Navy."

Katherine furrows her brow and turns back to squint at the Protodeacon.

"Because he has as foul a tongue as any Voidsman I've ever met. I didn't even know tech-priests could swear before."

SirLagginton said:
"Badr then, a pleasure." Ilana nodded in acknowledgement as she rolled up her sleeves. She was hardly the most experienced cook but even she knew that it could be messy work once you were into the thick of it. "I only pray that I prove to no hindrance to your kitchen with my inexperience."

It was, Ilana reflected a half-hour later, not the most complex of work if you listened carefully to instructions. But it was hard, repetitive work that required constant focus and the ability to multitask in a loud, bustling kitchen. The protodeacon had kept her mostly on the bread, working and shaping the dough enough for no less than two dozen loaves and probably then some before being tasked to attend to the remainder of the eggs. Not the most glamorous of work either, but it was meaningful enough, and as she saw her Sisters giving their appreciation she wondered if moments like these were what Badr lived for.

"Sister Salvus." Ilana greeted back as she served generous portions of scrambled eggs and oatmeal on to her sister's plate. She was well aware of the calories one burned in their duties as one of the Emperor's Daughters. "Best of luck at the scrumball today, though you'll have to excuse me if my loudest cheers will be for Caelia and Eriko on the field."

There's almost a terrible incident where Sister Ilana almost uses the flour meant to be used in a cream to go with the eggs to instead make bread, but fortunately Badr quickly corrects the mistake and sets her to work with the correct flour.

Salvus raises a knife in greeting, a smile widening across her features as she sees the cream infused eggs. It suddenly cracks, the other woman blinking at Ilana's words. "Wait, is there a scrumball game?" she says, wrinkling her nose. "Never did care for the sport too mu-"

A robed figure suddenly tackles her from behind, wrapping their arms around Salvus. "Sister, guess what!" Gwynais cheers.

"There's a Scrumball game going on?" Salvus says, quietly.

"There's a Scrumball game this afternoon! Sister-Superior Resedes is setting it up. You wanna come with?"

Salvus sighs, smiles and nods. "Sure. Long as we're on the same team, this time."

greendoor said:
"Constantius Sorjik the Third." Caelia mulls over the word, making sure she got the pronunciation right, as they flew in over the city. "What can you tell me about the Arch-Priest, pilot?" She asks.

While she awaited her answer, she looked out over the city. Objectively, it was not that impressive. She'd seen cities of greater splendor on Velorum, had lived in them, and trained in them in her time in the Schola.

Still, compared to the slums it was an impressive sight, a sign of proper civilization on a world that had been nothing but slums, swamps, and admittedly rather important promethium infrastructure. Here there there statues, manors, wide and clean roads, proper vehicles, and plenty of workers who weren't burdened by urban fighting or plague.

Compared to the poverty, plague, abhumans, and insurgency in the Little Cog district it seemed like a different planet.

"Constantius? Not too much. I know he's related to the governor in some fashion-He's one of the few people who visits the palace these days, though he has his own hab. He's a representative of the Cardinal mostly, I think, though I know he does some preaching too. Sometimes has a class at the Collegium Baptisme? I have a nephew who's taking a theology class there who's mentioned him."

"Bit on the young side. Bit of a looker I've been told, but well, everyone looks that compared to me," he says, motioning toward his heavily augmented appearance. "Big patron of the local art scene, actually. Word is he barely got missed in that terrorist attack because he was attending a showing. Guess the Emperor protects in His own way."

greendoor said:
Caelia pauses a moment before she replies to take in that statement. Another way this world was different from Velorum. Though it's cities might be vast and splendorous as any on this world, it's privileged classes and Noble houses would never take an insurgency and plague within the same city with such a limited response as a surge in hazmat suit sales and a few more checkpoints. Vigilance was a virtue.

She supposed she couldn't blame the people here. The Little Cog and the Rise seemed like almost entirely different cities, and as the pilot had said, they must've felt like they'd been safe before the fighting in the lower city.

"It's well worth being terrified of." Caelia replies to the pilot. "Though the quarantine seems to be quite effective, if fashionable Hazmat suits and a few checkpoints is all you have to trouble you."

A moment passes, then she nods. "I'll be prepared. Thank you for your services, Pilot."

A metallic snort rings out. "It's a bad case of the Black Rot. It's always been on Dreverarch, long as there's been man. Nothing like the Choirmen spread, no matter what the paranoid tell you," the pilot replies, his vox-grille whining unpleasantly. "All of the districts are easy to quarantine, you know? They're split by canals and tide-locks, which can be secured to lock off all traffic in and out of the district. After the Choirmen, we've got strong protocols for this sort of thing. Nobody in or out without being tested and scrubbed with the anti-virals, and craft are scrubbed down. On the Rise, well, they have to get up to the plateau, right?" he saps, tapping a bionic finger against the armour-glass in the direction of the vast tunnels and lift systems lining the edge of the Rise.

"You have to go through something like five checkpoints to get up here. I'm told it's a right pain in the-well. The buttocks. I'm glad I get to fly over it."

"Alright, we're making our final approach."

Ahead, the Fortress-Convent of Cannoness Jessira's Commandery looms, jutting out from the edge of the plateau that makes up the Rise. High walls of plascrete and polished Adamantium rise up from the surrounding streets and overlook the cliffs, their sides heavy with gargoyles and flamer and melta mounts. Even at this distance, Caelia can tell by the texture of the walls that they are etched from top to bottom, countless millions of words from the books of the Imperial Creed. Battle armoured sisters and armed servitors patrol the walls, helmets tilting upward as the gyrocopter swoops overhead. Sparring fields, firing ranges, and calm streams crossing through meditative gardens pass underneath before the gyrocopter passes by the main convent building. It is a comparatively small structure, to the massive governor's palace or cathedrals, but its great sweeping archs and flaming shrines spark a sense of awe nonetheless.

Servo-skulls swirl about Caelia as she exits the gyrocopter into the bustling hangar. Thunderhawks and other, light aircraft sit at rest across the hangar, being attended to by menials wearing suffocating gas-hoods and anti-viral tabards. Under the careful eyes of a group of white robed Tech-Priests, the menials scrub down every nook and cranny of the aircraft, repaint worn edges of the Ceramite and reload their heavy cannons and missile racks. Caelia pauses a moment as the Servo-Skulls train auger devices upon her, scans running down her armour.

One low ranking steps forward, bowing his hooded head. The sweet perfume of his pomander mixes curiously with the rubber-stink of his chem-tabard. "Please follow me, honoured Sister. I apologise, but you will have to go through a full decontamination. The Cannoness-Commander has insisted that no trace of plague will blight the convent."

A full decontamination is not a simple task. It begins with the full removal of Caelia's battle-plate by the convent's white robed tech-priests, the task as slow and laborious as ever. Bodysuit and undergarments follow, so that her bare skin may be sprayed down with anti viral agents and scrubbed with sacred oils before being anointed with thrice-blessed waters gathered from the holy springs of the Temple of the Last Respite. Temperatures are taken, blood tests administered, and holy incense burned to ward off the spirits of the Plague Father. Then it is a matter of waiting for the analysis to be completed before Caelia is allowed through, and made to engage in the time-consuming process of donning her power armour once more and acquiring her weaponry. The sight of a stained glass window greets her as she reaches the exit to the hangar. The Saint's armour is torn, her bare flesh torn and bleeding in a dozen places, and yet she still stands proud above the Daemons that claw at her, her eyes raised to the heavens with a hand upon her symbol of the Ministorum. Roses twine her bare feet and hands, blood dripping from the thorns and catching flame as they fall upon the Daemons below her.

Armour locked, and with a clean bill of health provided, Caelia marches out of the hangar. Sweet hymnals to the God-Emperor waft across the court yard as Caelia makes her way down the foot path, Sororitas of the local Commandery greeting her as she passes on by. She soon finds herself followed by a pair of cherubrim, censures dangling from their straining hands, the sweet smell of incense following her as she makes her way to the gates. The gates groan open as she approaches, the statuary and stained glass adornments upon the entering Rhinos catching in the dull light streaming through the clouds. Her eyes follow the passing vehicles before spotting the brass and steel of an autocarriage parked not far from the main gate-being as it alone lacks the adornments typical of the Sororitas, she makes her way over. The Arch-Priest stands not far from the autocarriage, hand in chin as he mulls over a mural depicting the Order's defense of this world from Xenos pirates long ago. Doves pick at the surrounding aldenberry pushes as Caelia approach, looking up lazily at the approaching Sister with nothing approaching interest.

Constantius flinches and turns, hearing the growling whine of Caelia's war-plate. He's a young man, at most matching Caelia's own age, and quite handsome with a strong jaw, dark eyes, high cheek bones that accentuate his nut-brown skin. His golden hair shines like silver-silk as he quickly bows his head. He wears the typical shield robes and miter hat, adorned with symbols of the Priesthood. Heavy iron chains bind a holy book at his side, and a Rosarius shines around his neck, though whether it is enhanced with a conversion field Caelia cannot tell.

"Ah, hello! You gave me a touch of fright there, my apologies. No matter how many times I hear their growl, your...backpacks? Always give me a startle," he says, looking Caelia over. "You wouldn't happen to be from the 6th Mission, would you?"

Zeitgeist Blue · Oct 2, 2020

Shephard said:
Greiland shakes her head, shoulders slumping. "Too difficult to do whilst we're in the midst of all this conflict. We've discussed possible scripts once our work here is done, but besides that? Nothing really. Things like impromptu Scrumball games are just easier to fit in."

"Though the way Sister-Superior Resedes speaks, you'd think she finds this more pious than a passion play."

"I would not be surprised." Eriko says, standing up. "From what she has told me, she had learned the sport from a Bishop. I would not be surprised if they had also imparted on to her that attitude."

She hums thoughtfully, hands on her hips as she looks across the court. "Whatever the case, if she means to reach enlightenment through the practice then I aim to make her sweat for it."

Shephard said:
-Father Tibim is asking for some help reconsecrating a temple after it was desecrated by heretics. Lethicia is willing to give volunteers leave to attend. The area is well secured, so there shouldn't be any combat.

Her mind was void. No hymnals nor sayings entered her thoughts. Only silence. Emptiness and oneness, and she was conscious of that silent reflection.

Then the bell rang twice, clear and sharp, and her half-lidded eyes opened fully.

In front of her was a simple shrine. The Keontamo Clan's tutelary ancestor, Keontamo Takahikone, laid inside a box and figures of the Enlightened Selverus and Leanna flanked on both sides of the box.

Eriko reached forward and set a spoon of salt down. Then gracefully, she stood from the lotus sitting position and extinguished the incense burners, one by one in measured beat. Finally, she clapped her hands twice and bowed to the shrine.

She asked for an auspicious day.

She was to help reconsecrate a temple. She could think of no better time for good fortune.

greendoor · Oct 6, 2020

Shephard said:
IC: Caelia scans through the rules, analyzing subtle differences in the wording of this and that rule from what she recalls. As for the opposition, Eriko claimed she preferred to be a flanker. Greiland is a Retributor, and a few of the other Sisters with them seem to be from Retributor Squad Morane. A strong and durable front-line, with a great deal of patience. Caelia's own team is a more mixed group, but there's a number of Dominions. Her team will likely be a bit stronger at flanking and being aggressive than on the defense. Her side also has a bit more leadership in the Sister-Superiors, though this is reduced by the team being a mix of squads.

"We're strongest on the offense." Caelia says, keeping her voice down, to the rest of the team. "And they're strongest on the defense. Outlasting us."

"We'll need a way around that defense, something that can win us this quickly." She looked to the Sister Superiors, to see if they had such. Better to let the leadership plan, and only offer suggestions if they didn't have a complete one yet.

Shephard said:
"I once saw an Imperial Guardsman rake sand. We were on Ashanda. It's nothing but sand," Anna laughs, shaking her head. "Anything's better than that. And at least it'll be a sacred undertaking, even if they're not exactly glorious!"

She considers the amasec for a moment, mulling. "Hrm. Wanderoak. Well, y'know, we're right next to the planet's largest spaceport, and from what little I've heard it's pretty bustling. Might be a whole lot of this imported in."

"Could it be grown locally?" Macharius asks. "Moving trees sound apropos for this world."

Caelia snorts. "That's a punishment job, if I ever heard one. Usually if they just want to keep the troops busy they'd have them digging or filling stubber belts."

She nods at the talk about the alcohol being imported in. "That'd be my guess. Wouldn't be the first Church officer or noble to import a more prestigious or favorite vintage from abroad."

+++++++++++

Shephard said:
A metallic snort rings out. "It's a bad case of the Black Rot. It's always been on Dreverarch, long as there's been man. Nothing like the Choirmen spread, no matter what the paranoid tell you," the pilot replies, his vox-grille whining unpleasantly. "All of the districts are easy to quarantine, you know? They're split by canals and tide-locks, which can be secured to lock off all traffic in and out of the district. After the Choirmen, we've got strong protocols for this sort of thing. Nobody in or out without being tested and scrubbed with the anti-virals, and craft are scrubbed down. On the Rise, well, they have to get up to the plateau, right?" he saps, tapping a bionic finger against the armour-glass in the direction of the vast tunnels and lift systems lining the edge of the Rise.

"You have to go through something like five checkpoints to get up here. I'm told it's a right pain in the-well. The buttocks. I'm glad I get to fly over it."

"Alright, we're making our final approach."

"More importantly, it'd keep the Arch-priest waiting, which would be ever so rude." Caelia replies, dryly. She nods at the confirmation, and turns to prepare herself for landing.

Shephard said:
Ahead, the Fortress-Convent of Cannoness Jessira's Commandery looms, jutting out from the edge of the plateau that makes up the Rise. High walls of plascrete and polished Adamantium rise up from the surrounding streets and overlook the cliffs, their sides heavy with gargoyles and flamer and melta mounts. Even at this distance, Caelia can tell by the texture of the walls that they are etched from top to bottom, countless millions of words from the books of the Imperial Creed. Battle armoured sisters and armed servitors patrol the walls, helmets tilting upward as the gyrocopter swoops overhead. Sparring fields, firing ranges, and calm streams crossing through meditative gardens pass underneath before the gyrocopter passes by the main convent building. It is a comparatively small structure, to the massive governor's palace or cathedrals, but its great sweeping archs and flaming shrines spark a sense of awe nonetheless.

Servo-skulls swirl about Caelia as she exits the gyrocopter into the bustling hangar. Thunderhawks and other, light aircraft sit at rest across the hangar, being attended to by menials wearing suffocating gas-hoods and anti-viral tabards. Under the careful eyes of a group of white robed Tech-Priests, the menials scrub down every nook and cranny of the aircraft, repaint worn edges of the Ceramite and reload their heavy cannons and missile racks. Caelia pauses a moment as the Servo-Skulls train auger devices upon her, scans running down her armour.

One low ranking steps forward, bowing his hooded head. The sweet perfume of his pomander mixes curiously with the rubber-stink of his chem-tabard. "Please follow me, honoured Sister. I apologise, but you will have to go through a full decontamination. The Cannoness-Commander has insisted that no trace of plague will blight the convent."

A full decontamination is not a simple task. It begins with the full removal of Caelia's battle-plate by the convent's white robed tech-priests, the task as slow and laborious as ever. Bodysuit and undergarments follow, so that her bare skin may be sprayed down with anti viral agents and scrubbed with sacred oils before being anointed with thrice-blessed waters gathered from the holy springs of the Temple of the Last Respite. Temperatures are taken, blood tests administered, and holy incense burned to ward off the spirits of the Plague Father. Then it is a matter of waiting for the analysis to be completed before Caelia is allowed through, and made to engage in the time-consuming process of donning her power armour once more and acquiring her weaponry. The sight of a stained glass window greets her as she reaches the exit to the hangar. The Saint's armour is torn, her bare flesh torn and bleeding in a dozen places, and yet she still stands proud above the Daemons that claw at her, her eyes raised to the heavens with a hand upon her symbol of the Ministorum. Roses twine her bare feet and hands, blood dripping from the thorns and catching flame as they fall upon the Daemons below her.

Caelia goes, without complaint. The tests were arduous, but it was as she had said. The Black Rot was dangerous, and even if she wasn't infected, procedures had to be followed. Better paranoid than vulnerable. Better safe than sorry.

Still, she is relieved once it is done, and secretly wishes she would not have to come back here again later.

Shephard said:
Constantius flinches and turns, hearing the growling whine of Caelia's war-plate. He's a young man, at most matching Caelia's own age, and quite handsome with a strong jaw, dark eyes, high cheek bones that accentuate his nut-brown skin. His golden hair shines like silver-silk as he quickly bows his head. He wears the typical shield robes and miter hat, adorned with symbols of the Priesthood. Heavy iron chains bind a holy book at his side, and a Rosarius shines around his neck, though whether it is enhanced with a conversion field Caelia cannot tell.

"Ah, hello! You gave me a touch of fright there, my apologies. No matter how many times I hear their growl, your...backpacks? Always give me a startle," he says, looking Caelia over. "You wouldn't happen to be from the 6th Mission, would you?"

"The Sixth Mission of the Wreath of Casita." Caelia bows slightly, an almost athletic feat in her armor. "Sister Caelia Valeriania. And I apologize for giving you fright, your Eminence. My Warplate's powerpack echoes it's own belligerence, I'm afraid."

She was surprised by the priest's apparent youth, though intellectually she knew she shouldn't be. Both because the priesthood could oft be an inherited position, and also because the youth was possibly just that-apparent. Rejuvnat could work wonders.

She put it out of mind. "You requested protection, your Eminence?" She asks, both to confirm she had the right person, and hopefully framed to get him talk about what he needed protection from.

Mina · Oct 10, 2020

Shephard said:
The other Sister blinks and glances at Maria, as though she had forgotten the Retributor was there. "Good point," she grunts after a moment, and the two Sisters went back to work in silence. Just a touch slower paced silence than prior.

"Roads are bad, but not that bad," Maria muttered some time later. "Still a bad route maybe." She scraped mortar off her trowel and slapped down a precise smear across the top of another course. Bending to heft another two blocks she laid them down, then more, then mortar. The simple repetition was meditative, just enough focus of her mind on the task and the physical requirement of it all to full drain away the self. They all ought to do a turn at this. "Sloppy driving. Bad route maybe. Pity."

Zeitgeist Blue said:
She downed her drink in one gulp then placed it before her, moving to refill the cups again.

"I would imagine it was not very becoming for two veteran Sisters to engage openly in petty sniping." She quirks an eyebrow as she fills Maria's cup. "I assume you had been with the Order for many a year now, a Sister of Battle since the Schola Progenium. Or am I mistaken?"

Eriko slides the filled cup forward, hand retracting smoothly back into her sleeves. "Where were you stationed before Almium Magna, before the Mission had been raised?" Eriko's eye slides downward almost imperceptibly, making contact not with Maria's eyes but the other Sister's nose and lower face.

"After my retraining with the Order, I had been posted for a few years in shrines along busy pilgrimage sites and routes in The Crown where the most trouble I had to deal with were pirates, small bands of cultist, or nosy nobles, nothing like the fighting in Almium Magna or this world. Routine work and not terribly interesting story material but it allowed me a chance to experience first-hand what the Burning Rose was."

"You are not mistaken on any count. I served in the Oasis under Sister-Superior Amata Darakec, mostly the defense, a few honor guard duties from time to time. We killed a lot." She took the cup and drank it down. "I fought long before the drill abbots took me into the fold."

She studied the other woman, her gaze level and challenging, refusing to look away or make any attempt at deference.

"I do not appreciate it when you try to tell me my business. We follow Sister-Superior Palais, as sisters born in battle together. You, I haven't decided on yet."

Shephard · Oct 11, 2020

Zeitgeist Blue said:
"I would not be surprised." Eriko says, standing up. "From what she has told me, she had learned the sport from a Bishop. I would not be surprised if they had also imparted on to her that attitude."

She hums thoughtfully, hands on her hips as she looks across the court. "Whatever the case, if she means to reach enlightenment through the practice then I aim to make her sweat for it."

Greiland quirks an eyebrow at Eriko. "She used to play Scrumball with a Bishop? And his sect saw scrumball as holy? That's...Probably one of the weirder sects I've heard of."

greendoor said:
"We're strongest on the offense." Caelia says, keeping her voice down, to the rest of the team. "And they're strongest on the defense. Outlasting us."

"We'll need a way around that defense, something that can win us this quickly." She looked to the Sister Superiors, to see if they had such. Better to let the leadership plan, and only offer suggestions if they didn't have a complete one yet.

"Well spotted, Sister Caelia," Sister-Superior Selveria states.

Zeitgeist Blue said:
Her mind was void. No hymnals nor sayings entered her thoughts. Only silence. Emptiness, and she was conscious of that silent reflection.

Then the bell rang twice, clear and sharp, and her half-lidded eyes opened fully.

In front of her was a simple shrine. The Keontamo Clan's tutelary ancestor, Keontamo Takahikone, laid inside a box and figures of the Enlightened Selverus and Leanna flanked on both sides of the box.

Eriko reached forward and set a spoon of salt down. Then gracefully, she stood from the lotus sitting position and extinguished the incense burners, one by one in measured beat. Finally, she clapped her hands twice and bowed to the shrine.

She asked for an auspicious day.

She was to help reconsecrate a temple. She could think of no better time for good fortune.

Eriko hitches a ride with Squad Morane toward the temple site. The streets have grown quieter as late from the chaotic days early in the Order's arrive to the Little Cog district. Gunshots and screams are no longer background noise, and the clash and hollering of rioters no longer fills every street. Yet, people still move warily through the streets, and here and there clashes between groups of locals persist.

The temple is part of a secured zone of streets and buildings surrounding several notable locations, including a local market, a plastek production facility, a water purification plant, and a major bridge. In terms of actual people covering it, there are fairly few. A half squad of Sororitas from the Commandery and some of the Brass-Neck mercenaries pulled off of guarding the Merud guild facilities is not a sizeable force, but more than enough to overcome however many heretics the Cult can afford to throw at them. The risk of infiltrators remains, but with most of the roads well secured with razor wire and patrolling warriors, even that remains a minimum threat.

The whole area has seen better days. Dried blood is visible on the rockcrete in places, debris is everywhere, and more than one burnt out autocarriage litters the streets. The winding, packed tenements that the streets carve crookedly through are blacked by fire damage or scarred by weapons discharges. It's clear that compared to other parts of the district, it may've gotten lucky. Rising up a hill, the nearby Pelagar quarter is visible over the roof of a sunken tenement building. Many of the buildings of that floating sub-district are half-sunk into the water or scoured by flame. With her helmet's autosenses, Eriko can see clearly the abhumans well under way repairing their homes, establishing a morass of floating slum structures built of slapped together cast of metal plates and scraps of flak-board and wood. She carries on, feeling the eyes of the locals upon her.

People huddle around burning cans in flak-board lean tos, whilst others stare from shuttered windows. Many others, however, take to the streets, if nervously. A mob of workers in Merud Guild branded work suits proceed along the street, straying subconsciously to the sides of the street and away from the open, eyes darting for threats. They slow as Eriko passes, lowering their eyes in respect as she carries on. A small market square is bustling with storekeepers shouting their wares and locals bargaining on prices. Men and women try to beg down the costs on freshly caught leeches, rats and snails, an armsdealer makes a brisk trade of selling arms and ammo, whilst elsewhere a merchant on the corner may be sells lightly used bionic parts.

"Your grip not what it used to be? Buy one bionic arm, get the second one half off! A bargain anyone can be happy with, and with only one prior owner!"

The temple is in no great place of import. It's almost lost in the shadow of a shut down factory, its aging walls pitted and cracked by harsh years in the weather. A stone statue of a Saint rendered almost unrecognizable by age leans on a chipped sword, moss growing from the corners of the statue. Piles of sandbags are strewn across the entry path, and the flower beds that surround the temple overrun with moss and weeds surrounding the gnarled trees growing from them. And yet, the structure still stands. The tall pillars and sweeping arcs, as worn as they are, still stand straight and tall with a pride no other building in the zone can match. The faceless Saint staring down still sparks a flutter ing Eriko's heart. A small crowd surrounds the structure, men and women and abhumans clad in a mixture of rag-castings and rugged daily wear, most wearing at least one aquila necklace or other icon of the Imperial Creed and many bearing several. They look up from their mops and cleaning clothes at the sound of Eriko's approach. Many shift away from the Sister nervously, awkwardly making sure their miscellany of melee and ranged weapons isn't even vaguely pointed in her direction.

Father Tibim kneels in silent prayer before the front doors to the temple, staring up at the two-headed eagle staring down from the temple roof. He tilts his head at the growl of Eriko's power armour encroaching, but does not shift for several more long seconds. He is a tall man, though that is the only thing of heroic statue about him. His hair is balding in that rough spot between having a full head of hair and no head of hair, and deep shadows line his weathered features, pooling between both his natural eye and his flickering bionic one. Still, he stands up straight and powerful, and meets the chilling glare of Eriko's helmet unflinchingly.

"Greetings in the name of the Immortal Emperor, Sister," he says, his voice strong and firm, even with a soft rasp chasing them. He makes the sign of the Aquila. "Squad Palais, yes? I recognize the marking on your armour, though I'm unsure if we met ourselves."

greendoor said:
Caelia snorts. "That's a punishment job, if I ever heard one. Usually if they just want to keep the troops busy they'd have them digging or filling stubber belts."

She nods at the talk about the alcohol being imported in. "That'd be my guess. Wouldn't be the first Church officer or noble to import a more prestigious or favorite vintage from abroad."

"Definitely punishment," Liandra agrees.

Macharius mulls the amasec for a moment. "Possible. But they might've just bought a cheap vintage at the local markets," Macharius comments, taking another taste of the amasec. "It's sweet, which is more common among baseborn dishes, I think. If Dreverarch doesn't have extensive local amasec, but there's an agri-world that produces and ships it, it might be cheaper just to buy off-world, especially with the spaceport right here."

Anna frowns. "That doesn't make sense. I've been to hiveworlds right next to agri-worlds, and fresh vegetables and fruit weren't exactly common down hive."

"I didn't take economics in the Schola. But I bet that fruit from that agri-world was still cheaper than the locally grown stuff."

Liandra clears her throat. "If they were eating Soylent Viridians, it's reconstituted vegetables."

greendoor said:
"The Sixth Mission of the Wreath of Casita." Caelia bows slightly, an almost athletic feat in her armor. "Sister Caelia Valeriania. And I apologize for giving you fright, your Eminence. My Warplate's powerpack echoes it's own belligerence, I'm afraid."

She was surprised by the priest's apparent youth, though intellectually she knew she shouldn't be. Both because the priesthood could oft be an inherited position, and also because the youth was possibly just that-apparent. Rejuvnat could work wonders.

She put it out of mind. "You requested protection, your Eminence?" She asks, both to confirm she had the right person, and hopefully framed to get him talk about what he needed protection from.

"An honour, Sister. And the apologies are all mine. A bit too easily startled these days," Constantius replies, warmly. There's usually some signs of rejuvenat treatment, particularly in the eyes, but they're nowhere to be found in the Arch-Priest. It might be that he hired an especially skilled rejuvenat specialist, have a lucky set of genes, or be young enough that the effects of rejuvenat aren't quite so obvious. A sixty year old man under rejuvenat is much harder to tell than someone nearing their second century. Still, he certainly doesn't seem much older than Caelia.

"Yes, I did. Your Palatine, Rathitta, said she'd be sending one of her Sisters up," he says, twining his hands behind his back. "You heard of the recent hostage situation? I'd have been caught up in that if I hadn't caught a case of the winter ague. There's been other attacks since, and well, I am a relative of the governor, however distant. How they're even getting through the quarantine between the lower districts and the Rise I have no idea, but..." he trails off, brushing the front of his robes.

Mina said:
"Roads are bad, but not that bad," Maria muttered some time later. "Still a bad route maybe." She scraped mortar off her trowel and slapped down a precise smear across the top of another course. Bending to heft another two blocks she laid them down, then more, then mortar. The simple repetition was meditative, just enough focus of her mind on the task and the physical requirement of it all to full drain away the self. They all ought to do a turn at this. "Sloppy driving. Bad route maybe. Pity."

The other Sister pauses a moment, then after a moment's hesitation, replies. "...Depends on the roads, but the ones between the Sanctum and the nearest quarantine entrance aren't terrible, occasional crowds aside. Still, not much info to go off of. Could been simple ill fortune, or the driver's incompetence. I think they're using the local civilian drivers. Skittish."

Zeitgeist Blue · Oct 11, 2020

Mina said:
"You are not mistaken on any count. I served in the Oasis under Sister-Superior Amata Darakec, mostly the defense, a few honor guard duties from time to time. We killed a lot." She took the cup and drank it down. "I fought long before the drill abbots took me into the fold."

She studied the other woman, her gaze level and challenging, refusing to look away or make any attempt at deference.

"I do not appreciate it when you try to tell me my business. We follow Sister-Superior Palais, as sisters born in battle together. You, I haven't decided on yet."

Eriko's cheeks flushed red as Maria punched through all pretense and politeness. Absent a fan she took a long sip from her cup, nearly empty though it was. She averted her gaze thoroughly, the features Maria could see held in a stony faced mask. Eriko took several deep breaths as much to count the time passed as to keep her irritation in check. Patience, not more adversity was what was needed here. She was expecting something of the sort from Maria, but not so soon and nothing so lacking in tact!

Finally, Eriko lowered her cup and met Maria's gaze once more and offered a smile, painted and brittle as it was. "Of course," Eriko said as she continued to smile her painted on smile. "You are certainly entitled to your feelings and my visit is to offer both apology and assurance that nothing more of such sort shall pass between us."

She paused to think then after a few seconds gave Maria a sitting-bow from the waist. "And I ask for your forgiveness on my past conduct. It was an overreach of my role in the squad. Though on my part, I merely wished to offer guidance to my fellow squadmates and perhaps I had been overzealous. Yet there was no malice intended."

She straightened to judge Maria's reaction.

Shephard said:
Greiland quirks an eyebrow at Eriko. "She used to play Scrumball with a Bishop? And his sect saw scrumball as holy? That's...Probably one of the weirder sects I've heard of."

"Indeed," Eriko nodded her head. "Though if it was a true doctrinal belief or mere hyperbole, I did not inquire further. Certainly, she and her Bishop seemed the types to religiously follow their chosen teams and would deign to watch the matches live."

"From the luxury boxes, I'm assured," Eriko hastily added.

Shephard said:
Eriko hitches a ride with Squad Morane toward the temple site. The streets have grown quieter as late from the chaotic days early in the Order's arrive to the Little Cog district. Gunshots and screams are no longer background noise, and the clash and hollering of rioters no longer fills every street. Yet, people still move warily through the streets, and here and there clashes between groups of locals persist.

The temple is part of a secured zone of streets and buildings surrounding several notable locations, including a local market, a plastek production facility, a water purification plant, and a major bridge. In terms of actual people covering it, there are fairly few. A half squad of Sororitas from the Commandery and some of the Brass-Neck mercenaries pulled off of guarding the Merud guild facilities is not a sizeable force, but more than enough to overcome however many heretics the Cult can afford to throw at them. The risk of infiltrators remains, but with most of the roads well secured with razor wire and patrolling warriors, even that remains a minimum threat.

The whole area has seen better days. Dried blood is visible on the rockcrete in places, debris is everywhere, and more than one burnt out autocarriage litters the streets. The winding, packed tenements that the streets carve crookedly through are blacked by fire damage or scarred by weapons discharges. It's clear that compared to other parts of the district, it may've gotten lucky. Rising up a hill, the nearby Pelagar quarter is visible over the roof of a sunken tenement building. Many of the buildings of that floating sub-district are half-sunk into the water or scoured by flame. With her helmet's autosenses, Eriko can see clearly the abhumans well under way repairing their homes, establishing a morass of floating slum structures built of slapped together cast of metal plates and scraps of flak-board and wood. She carries on, feeling the eyes of the locals upon her.

People huddle around burning cans in flak-board lean tos, whilst others stare from shuttered windows. Many others, however, take to the streets, if nervously. A mob of workers in Merud Guild branded work suits proceed along the street, straying subconsciously to the sides of the street and away from the open, eyes darting for threats. They slow as Eriko passes, lowering their eyes in respect as she carries on. A small market square is bustling with storekeepers shouting their wares and locals bargaining on prices. Men and women try to beg down the costs on freshly caught leeches, rats and snails, an armsdealer makes a brisk trade of selling arms and ammo, whilst elsewhere a merchant on the corner may be sells lightly used bionic parts.

"Your grip not what it used to be? Buy one bionic arm, get the second one half off! A bargain anyone can be happy with, and with only one prior owner!"

Even as she strode towards her destination, Eriko could not help but appreciate the signs of normal life around her.

Shephard said:
The temple is in no great place of import. It's almost lost in the shadow of a shut down factory, its aging walls pitted and cracked by harsh years in the weather. A stone statue of a Saint rendered almost unrecognizable by age leans on a chipped sword, moss growing from the corners of the statue. Piles of sandbags are strewn across the entry path, and the flower beds that surround the temple overrun with moss and weeds surrounding the gnarled trees growing from them. And yet, the structure still stands. The tall pillars and sweeping arcs, as worn as they are, still stand straight and tall with a pride no other building in the zone can match. The faceless Saint staring down still sparks a flutter ing Eriko's heart. A small crowd surrounds the structure, men and women and abhumans clad in a mixture of rag-castings and rugged daily wear, most wearing at least one aquila necklace or other icon of the Imperial Creed and many bearing several. They look up from their mops and cleaning clothes at the sound of Eriko's approach. Many shift away from the Sister nervously, awkwardly making sure their miscellany of melee and ranged weapons isn't even vaguely pointed in her direction.

There was no gate proper to mark the demarcation between mundane and holy ground, so Eriko stopped at a distance and respectfully bowed to the temple. By then the small crowd around the structure had noticed her and Storm of Summer's mechanical purr, and as was proper they offered her a path forward to the front doors of the temple and Father Tibim. Yet, she did not take the offered path and instead made her way off-center.

Her steps were small and deferential and it took only a few moments of hurried shuffling by the crowd to open the new path for her. Far be it from her to take the path reserved for the Emperor and the Saint of the temple to pass.

When she arrived behind the kneeling Father, she placed her hands in front of her and waited for his prayer to finish.

Shephard said:
Father Tibim kneels in silent prayer before the front doors to the temple, staring up at the two-headed eagle staring down from the temple roof. He tilts his head at the growl of Eriko's power armour encroaching, but does not shift for several more long seconds. He is a tall man, though that is the only thing of heroic statue about him. His hair is balding in that rough spot between having a full head of hair and no head of hair, and deep shadows line his weathered features, pooling between both his natural eye and his flickering bionic one. Still, he stands up straight and powerful, and meets the chilling glare of Eriko's helmet unflinchingly.

"Greetings in the name of the Immortal Emperor, Sister," he says, his voice strong and firm, even with a soft rasp chasing them. He makes the sign of the Aquila. "Squad Palais, yes? I recognize the marking on your armour, though I'm unsure if we met ourselves."

"Greetings Father Tibim. May the morning shine upon you well," Eriko greeted back, making the sign of the Aquila. She nodded at the Father's guesses. "You are correct. I am the squadmate of the two Sisters you had met a while back, though I have not had the honour myself."

She looks up at the temple then back at the Father. "I was told this temple was desecrated by heretics and you were looking to reconsecrate it. How may I be of service?"

SirLagginton · Oct 22, 2020

Shephard said:
"The Knights Requiem? From Verantis?" Macharius asks, surprised. "Blood Angel descendants, aren't they?"

"That's right. Loyal to the Ministorum, aside. Not like most Space Marines, not even the Ironbreakers," Anna comments. At Liandra's skeptical look, she raises her hands defensively. "Not that our Battle-Brothers in the Ironbreakers don't worship the God-Emperor in their fashion, but it's not like they listen much to the Ecclesiarchy. The Knights Requiem are the Angels a Cardinal can trust to answer their call."

Liandra looks at Ilana. "How did Oblivion cultists get to Savine's Hope?"

"Presumably, they took a ship," Macharius comments, dryly.

Liandra pauses, then bows her head in acquiesce. "You have a point. I'm merely surprised, is all. It is far from their usual haunt, about the Edge of Oblivion."

"Should the Inquisition grace you with a glimpse into their archives, I would appreciate the knowledge. I don't know what the Oblivion cultists were looking for when they decided to raze my home. A relic?" Ilana shrugged wearily. "It seems all Chaos is intent on are profaning the works of the good and righteous."

Shephard said:
"I once saw an Imperial Guardsman rake sand. We were on Ashanda. It's nothing but sand," Anna laughs, shaking her head. "Anything's better than that. And at least it'll be a sacred undertaking, even if they're not exactly glorious!"

She considers the amasec for a moment, mulling. "Hrm. Wanderoak. Well, y'know, we're right next to the planet's largest spaceport, and from what little I've heard it's pretty bustling. Might be a whole lot of this imported in."

"Could it be grown locally?" Macharius asks. "Moving trees sound apropos for this world."

Ilana cast her mind to all those years ago before the Schola Progenium, back to the great sub-spire that represented House Laetificat's holdings upon Krone. Uncle Mattias had been a connoisseur, and during her short time in his abode he had oft taken the opportunity to sneak her a drink or two from the vaults of his private collection. She tried to remember some of his comments when he shared some sunsettia wine that has been encased in prismatic wanderoak.

"I think... most of the soil on Dreverarch would be considered too sour for most species of Wanderoak." Ilana tapped her fingers on her cup. "If I recall correctly, they had originally evolved to survive in savannahs, though in Araxes they're mostly found in more verdant biomes in Paladius and Teivon IV. Then again the works of the Magi Biologis are great indeed, it would hardly be the first time a species was gene-smithed to better adapt to the conditions of a particular planet."

Shephard said:
"Nevermind binary, have you heard that Tech-Priest?" Badr says, shuddering.

"Maloc?" Katherine intones. It is not a question.

"Creepy skull mask Tech-Priest, right," Badr replies, ignoring his own skeletal visage. "Have you heard him when he's angry? I'd bet my left leg he's Navy."

Katherine furrows her brow and turns back to squint at the Protodeacon.

"Because he has as foul a tongue as any Voidsman I've ever met. I didn't even know tech-priests could swear before."

Despite herself, Ilana could barely contain herself from shaking in laughter. She hadn't had the honour of meeting with the Magos Minoris herself, though Maria had mentioned some details of her own encounter. Going by her account what Badr was saying was perfectly in-line with the man himself.

"What were the circumstances of your encounters with the Magos praytell?" Ilana eventually managed to get out. "I am only recently annointed, and have not yet an opportunity to converse with him much as of yet."

Shephard said:
There's almost a terrible incident where Sister Ilana almost uses the flour meant to be used in a cream to go with the eggs to instead make bread, but fortunately Badr quickly corrects the mistake and sets her to work with the correct flour.

Salvus raises a knife in greeting, a smile widening across her features as she sees the cream infused eggs. It suddenly cracks, the other woman blinking at Ilana's words. "Wait, is there a scrumball game?" she says, wrinkling her nose. "Never did care for the sport too mu-"

A robed figure suddenly tackles her from behind, wrapping their arms around Salvus. "Sister, guess what!" Gwynais cheers.

"There's a Scrumball game going on?" Salvus says, quietly.

"There's a Scrumball game this afternoon! Sister-Superior Resedes is setting it up. You wanna come with?"

Salvus sighs, smiles and nods. "Sure. Long as we're on the same team, this time."

"Emperor bless you on your endeavours, and if you happen to chance upon Eriko and Caelia tell them that I won't let it go if they make our squad look bad in the field!" Ilana turned to pose in her best imitation of drill-abbot Cantus, ladle serving as a faux-baton as she addressed them gravely. "To be new to service means that you must be twice as driven."

greendoor · Oct 22, 2020

Shephard said:
"Well spotted, Sister Caelia," Sister-Superior Selveria states.

Caelia nodded. Good, then the Leadership would know what to do.

That left only her part to prepare for the coming game.

Which was much like preparing for a battle.

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

SirLagginton said:
"Should the Inquisition grace you with a glimpse into their archives, I would appreciate the knowledge. I don't know what the Oblivion cultists were looking for when they decided to raze my home. A relic?" Ilana shrugged wearily. "It seems all Chaos is intent on is profaning the works of the good and righteous."

Caelia sets down her drink. "That's all the Slaves to Darkness are." Caelia says. "The antithesis of everything the Emperor is. Where he is light, they are darkness. Where he is protection, they are destruction. And where he is order and Stability, they are change, and innovation, the primordial Chaos of a galaxy bereft of the Throne's aegis. They are the great nemesis of our Imperium." She says, with the simple certainty of a fortress Worlder, and one who had seen firsthand their evil. "They might have tactical and operational objectives, sometimes there is what we can call strategy. But in the end, there is no greater reason to their actions than that they oppose all that is good and all that is holy."

She repeated it again in her own head. Not because she disbelieved it, but because it gave her strength.

Shephard said:
"Definitely punishment," Liandra agrees.

Macharius mulls the amasec for a moment. "Possible. But they might've just bought a cheap vintage at the local markets," Macharius comments, taking another taste of the amasec. "It's sweet, which is more common among baseborn dishes, I think. If Dreverarch doesn't have extensive local amasec, but there's an agri-world that produces and ships it, it might be cheaper just to buy off-world, especially with the spaceport right here."

Anna frowns. "That doesn't make sense. I've been to hiveworlds right next to agri-worlds, and fresh vegetables and fruit weren't exactly common down hive."

"I didn't take economics in the Schola. But I bet that fruit from that agri-world was still cheaper than the locally grown stuff."

Liandra clears her throat. "If they were eating Soylent Viridians, it's reconstituted vegetables."

"Economies of Scale." Caelia says, putting the concept into a logistical mindset. "It's why most worlds use at least some weapons produced off world-because they might be able to make their own las or Autorifles or Battletanks, but it's still cheaper to import ones from a Forge or Industrial world for most of their needs."

Shephard said:
"An honour, Sister. And the apologies are all mine. A bit too easily startled these days," Constantius replies, warmly. There's usually some signs of rejuvenat treatment, particularly in the eyes, but they're nowhere to be found in the Arch-Priest. It might be that he hired an especially skilled rejuvenat specialist, have a lucky set of genes, or be young enough that the effects of rejuvenat aren't quite so obvious. A sixty year old man under rejuvenat is much harder to tell than someone nearing their second century. Still, he certainly doesn't seem much older than Caelia.

"Yes, I did. Your Palatine, Rathitta, said she'd be sending one of her Sisters up," he says, twining his hands behind his back. "You heard of the recent hostage situation? I'd have been caught up in that if I hadn't caught a case of the winter ague. There's been other attacks since, and well, I am a relative of the governor, however distant. How they're even getting through the quarantine between the lower districts and the Rise I have no idea, but..." he trails off, brushing the front of his robes.

Caelia nodded at the mention of the hostage crisis.

She decided to revise her opinion slightly on this whole venture. She doubted the Arch-Priest would truly need a Sororitas bodyguard-Church Lifeguards or even high end private security would serve for most of those examples, but he did have a point.

These were dangerous times.

"The Adeptus Arbites or Enforcers or some other servants of the Emperor will find out your Eminence...but until then, you will be protected." Caelia says, trying to reassure him. "There is no Heretic Assassin upon this world who can fight their way through a Sister of Battle."

At least, as far as she knew, not anymore.

"Now, if I may, your eminence, where to?"

Shephard · Oct 24, 2020

SirLagginton said:
"Should the Inquisition grace you with a glimpse into their archives, I would appreciate the knowledge. I don't know what the Oblivion cultists were looking for when they decided to raze my home. A relic?" Ilana shrugged wearily. "It seems all Chaos is intent on are profaning the works of the good and righteous."

greendoor said:
Caelia sets down her drink. "That's all the Slaves to Darkness are." Caelia says. "The antithesis of everything the Emperor is. Where he is light, they are darkness. Where he is protection, they are destruction. And where he is order and Stability, they are change, and innovation, the primordial Chaos of a galaxy bereft of the Throne's aegis. They are the great nemesis of our Imperium." She says, with the simple certainty of a fortress Worlder, and one who had seen firsthand their evil. "They might have tactical and operational objectives, sometimes there is what we can call strategy. But in the end, there is no greater reason to their actions than that they oppose all that is good and all that is holy."

She repeated it again in her own head. Not because she disbelieved it, but because it gave her strength.

There is murmured agreement from among the other Sisters. "The ways of the Archenemy are madness, and ultimately there is no sense to be found there," Liandra states. She bows her head, lips pursed. "Still, it is ill fortune they came across your home, Sister Ilana, when it is far from their lairs. My sympathies."

SirLagginton said:
Ilana cast her mind to all those years ago before the Schola Progenium, back to the great sub-spire that represented House Laetificat's holdings upon Krone. Uncle Mattias had been a connoisseur, and during her short time in his abode he had oft taken the opportunity to sneak her a drink or two from the vaults of his private collection. She tried to remember some of his comments when he shared some sunsettia wine that has been encased in prismatic wanderoak.

"I think... most of the soil on Dreverarch would be considered too sour for most species of Wanderoak." Ilana tapped her fingers on her cup. "If I recall correctly, they had originally evolved to survive in savannahs, though in Araxes they're mostly found in more verdant biomes in Paladius and Teivon IV. Then again the works of the Magi Biologis are great indeed, it would hardly be the first time a species was gene-smithed to better adapt to the conditions of a particular planet."

greendoor said:
"Economies of Scale." Caelia says, putting the concept into a logistical mindset. "It's why most worlds use at least some weapons produced off world-because they might be able to make their own las or Autorifles or Battletanks, but it's still cheaper to import ones from a Forge or Industrial world for most of their needs."

Arina leans forward, resting an elbow on her knee. "Maybe there's a Savannah somewhere. Planets are big, after all."

Macharius snorts, derisively. "Somewhere on Dreverarch that isn't damp and miserable sounds too good to be true. Unless they gene-smithed the trees, I think it's got to be like Caelia's mentioned, with the economies of scale."

SirLagginton said:
Despite herself, Ilana could barely contain herself from shaking in laughter. She hadn't had the honour of meeting with the Magos Minoris herself, though Maria had mentioned some details of her own encounter. Going by her account what Badr was saying was perfectly in-line with the man himself.

"What were the circumstances of your encounters with the Magos praytell?" Ilana eventually managed to get out. "I am only recently annointed, and have not yet an opportunity to converse with him much as of yet."

Badr laughs merrily, which is a sound that really feels like it shouldn't be coming from someone with his face. "I've had more than a few. You Sisters really only interact with them when being armed or armored, or maybe getting some maintenance on your bionics, but us deacons do a lot of the less technical maintenance, bring them supplies like ammo and parts, and manage a lot of the servitors and menials. I remember one time one of the Tech-Priests spilled a few drops of the sacred oils after one of the mortar strikes, Maloc almost blew off his vox-grille he was shouting so loud," He chuckles. "I still remember how he threatened to shove his Mechadenrites...Well. Let's just say his tongue's as black as a Voidsman's, for sure."

SirLagginton said:
"Emperor bless you on your endeavours, and if you happen to chance upon Eriko and Caelia tell them that I won't let it go if they make our squad look bad in the field!" Ilana turned to pose in her best imitation of drill-abbot Cantus, ladle serving as a faux-baton as she addressed them gravely. "To be new to service means that you must be twice as driven."

Gwynais smirks, showing a brilliant, gleaming, and terribly cruel smile. "Oh, we'll be sure to do that, Sister. But don't think we'll go easy on them if we're on the opposite team!"

Salvus gives a not very enthusiastic cheer at that, before Gwynais drags her off.

Zeitgeist Blue said:
"Indeed," Eriko nodded her head. "Though if it was a true doctrinal belief or mere hyperbole, I did not inquire further. Certainly, she and her Bishop seemed the types to religiously follow their chosen teams and would deign to watch the matches live."

"From the luxury boxes, I'm assured," Eriko hastily added.

"I'm going to guess hyperbole or a misunderstanding," Greiland says, shrugging her brawny shoulders. "If only for the sake of my own sanity."

greendoor said:
Caelia nodded. Good, then the Leadership would know what to do.

That left only her part to prepare for the coming game.

Which was much like preparing for a battle.

Gwynais suddenly appears in Caelia's vision, grinning madly. "Oh hello, Caelia. Is Eriko with you?" She says, looking around. Sister Katia Salvus peers at Caelia from behind her Sister's shoulder, notably less excited. "Sister Ilana had a message for us to give you. Something about not making her look bad?"

"Oh yes. Said she'd never let it go," Gwynais says, cheerily.

greendoor said:
Caelia nodded at the mention of the hostage crisis.

She decided to revise her opinion slightly on this whole venture. She doubted the Arch-Priest would truly need a Sororitas bodyguard-Church Lifeguards or even high end private security would serve for most of those examples, but he did have a point.

These were dangerous times.

"The Adeptus Arbites or Enforcers or some other servants of the Emperor will find out your Eminence...but until then, you will be protected." Caelia says, trying to reassure him. "There is no Heretic Assassin upon this world who can fight their way through a Sister of Battle."

At least, as far as she knew, not anymore.

"Now, if I may, your eminence, where to?"

"I'm sure they will," he agrees, heartily. "But for now, I'm just glad the Ecclesiarchy listened to my bequest. In truth it's an honour that I was actually deigned worthy of the protection of the Adepta Sororitas. Thank you, Sister Valeriania."

Constantius checks his chrono, which projects a small holo-lith display. "I've a groundcar waiting for me outside. From there, well. One of the local guilds is holding a fund-raiser. I have lectures to give at the university, and all sorts of church functions. I'm expected at the Governor's palace three days hence, but you shouldn't need to accompany me inside. Outside of the Cardinal's own housing, I doubt there's anywhere more secure."

"Anything you need to ask, before we go?"

Zeitgeist Blue said:
"Greetings Father Tibim. May the morning shine upon you well," Eriko greeted back, making the sign of the Aquila. She nodded at the Father's guesses. "You are correct. I am the squadmate of the two Sisters you had met a while back, though I have not had the honour myself."

She looks up at the temple then back at the Father. "I was told this temple was desecrated by heretics and you were looking to reconsecrate it. How may I be of service?"

"May I have the honour of your name then, Sister?" Tibim asks. "And you've my thanks for your assistance."

Tibim grimaces, resting his chin heavily in his hand. "We've begun cleaning the graffiti and damage from the temple exterior, but I had to ban anyone from entering the interior. The symbols of their Dark Gods litter the walls, and they made a sacrifice of animals and-and a Pelager within. May the God-Emperor protect his soul," the priest says, closing his one flesh eye for a long moment. "The damage didn't seem too severe, at least, but I need your help to remove the body and cleanse the taint from within. And if you would aid me in the prayers, I would be honoured."

He turns back to the church, looking upon the sealed doors, and shakes his head.

Zeitgeist Blue · Oct 25, 2020

Shephard said:
"May I have the honour of your name then, Sister?" Tibim asks. "And you've my thanks for your assistance."

Tibim grimaces, resting his chin heavily in his hand. "We've begun cleaning the graffiti and damage from the temple exterior, but I had to ban anyone from entering the interior. The symbols of their Dark Gods litter the walls, and they made a sacrifice of animals and-and a Pelager within. May the God-Emperor protect his soul," the priest says, closing his one flesh eye for a long moment. "The damage didn't seem too severe, at least, but I need your help to remove the body and cleanse the taint from within. And if you would aid me in the prayers, I would be honoured."

He turns back to the church, looking upon the sealed doors, and shakes his head.

"Eriko of the Keontamo Clan, though you may call me Sister Eriko," Eriko replies when asked her name.

She looks to the sealed doors as the Tibim describes the desecrations done to the holy place, and she grimaces inside her helmet. It was no surprise, she had been informed of the Father's purpose here, but it was worse to know what the heretics had done. She knew it would be even more unpleasant to witness the scene for herself, to touch the unclean blood and bodies. But she had volunteered and she doubted she could back down without a lose of face now.

Eriko patiently waits behind the priest as he looks up the double doors of the temple. She glances at Tibim. Unlike her, he had no sacred plate or inscriptions to blunt the unholy sight waiting for them inside. Yet they both knew they needed to do this, as painful as it would be.

"I could burn the body and give the last rites, Father," Eriko says, her voice harsh through the helmet vox. "I would need to repurify myself but it would allow you to reconsecrate the temple without delay."

greendoor · Nov 4, 2020

Shephard said:
Gwynais suddenly appears in Caelia's vision, grinning madly. "Oh hello, Caelia. Is Eriko with you?" She says, looking around. Sister Katia Salvus peers at Caelia from behind her Sister's shoulder, notably less excited. "Sister Ilana had a message for us to give you. Something about not making her look bad?"

"Oh yes. Said she'd never let it go," Gwynais says, cheerily.

Caelia chuckles softly. "That might be a problem." She indicated with a hand, where Eriko was on the other team.

"Rather difficult to win and make sure the other team doesn't lose at the same time." Caelia says.

"Still I'll try my best. I'm sure Sister Eriko will put up quite a fight."

Shephard said:
Arina leans forward, resting an elbow on her knee. "Maybe there's a Savannah somewhere. Planets are big, after all."

Macharius snorts, derisively. "Somewhere on Dreverarch that isn't damp and miserable sounds too good to be true. Unless they gene-smithed the trees, I think it's got to be like Caelia's mentioned, with the economies of scale."

"Dunno. Could be scorching hot and miserable." Caelia entertains Arina's suggestion.

Shephard said:
"I'm sure they will," he agrees, heartily. "But for now, I'm just glad the Ecclesiarchy listened to my bequest. In truth it's an honour that I was actually deigned worthy of the protection of the Adepta Sororitas. Thank you, Sister Valeriania."

Constantius checks his chrono, which projects a small holo-lith display. "I've a groundcar waiting for me outside. From there, well. One of the local guilds is holding a fund-raiser. I have lectures to give at the university, and all sorts of church functions. I'm expected at the Governor's palace three days hence, but you shouldn't need to accompany me inside. Outside of the Cardinal's own housing, I doubt there's anywhere more secure."

"Anything you need to ask, before we go?"

"I'll need the details of your own protective measures." Caelia says. "The capabilities of your groundcar for example, any personal armoring or shielding on your person, personal armament and inclination to use." The priest didn't look armed, but he'd be a strange priest indeed if he didn't have at least a ceremonial weapon of office stashed away somewhere, and she needed to know if he was the sort to try and fight if there was a security incident-or do the smart thing and get behind her armor real quick.

"Come to think of it, I'd want to know how well you can trust your staff, and the staff of the place we are to go. People to watch." She adds. She highly doubted any such people were dangerous to the Priest, or if he knew such, but it might be best to test the boundaries of his perceptions in this matter.

"Finally..." She paused a moment, looking down at the Slayer of 10,000. It's name might rightly be the problem-it was quite the slayer but useful for little outside of high lethality ballistic violence. "If your Grace would excuse the time, I might need to speak the Armory priests briefly. A less lethal option in case we might run into problems that don't merit my holy Bolts. Should only take a few minutes."

Shephard · Nov 21, 2020

greendoor said:
Caelia chuckles softly. "That might be a problem." She indicated with a hand, where Eriko was on the other team.

"Rather difficult to win and make sure the other team doesn't lose at the same time." Caelia says.

"Still I'll try my best. I'm sure Sister Eriko will put up quite a fight."

"Ah well, it is only Eriko," Gwynais says. "I'm sure that Ilana can forgive you beating her to a pulp!"

Katia plants her hands on her hips, shooting her friend a glare. "Come on, Sister. Leave the poor Hospitaller alone."

Gwynais shrugs her shoulders. "Alright, but only until the game starts. Then she's fair game."

@Zeitgeist Blue @greendoor

The final planning and preparation is underway, and both Sisters get called by their respective teams to join a huddle as they hash out a plan for the first round. The Sisters can focus their attention on tackling the opposition (Athletics (S), focused on defense), running the ball (Athletics (ag) to actually score the ball) or another role of their choosing such as being an intermediary for passing the ball (Athletics (BS), boosts NPCs) or shielding their team mates (Athletics (T), helps negates tackles). The game is split into three rounds total.

OOC: This is based loosely off the quick-play rules for Middenball in WHFRP.

Zeitgeist Blue said:
"Eriko of the Keontamo Clan, though you may call me Sister Eriko," Eriko replies when asked her name.

She looks to the sealed doors as the Tibim describes the desecrations done to the holy place, and she grimaces inside her helmet. It was no surprise, she had been informed of the Father's purpose here, but it was worse to know what the heretics had done. She knew it would be even more unpleasant to witness the scene for herself, to touch the unclean blood and bodies. But she had volunteered and she doubted she could back down without a lose of face now.

Eriko patiently waits behind the priest as he looks up the double doors of the temple. She glances at Tibim. Unlike her, he had no sacred plate or inscriptions to blunt the unholy sight waiting for them inside. Yet they both knew they needed to do this, as painful as it would be.

"I could burn the body and give the last rites, Father," Eriko says, her voice harsh through the helmet vox. "I would need to repurify myself but it would allow you to reconsecrate the temple without delay."

Tibim bows his head. "You honour me, Sister Eriko. And you have my thanks."

He turns toward the heavy doors, producing a pass-key for the key-slate, but slows to a halt by the doors as Eriko speaks. He pauses a moment, closing his eyes. "Your offer is generous, Sister Eriko, and after the blasphemy I witnessed within, I would love nothing more than to remain out here whilst you do your work. But I am a priest of the God-Emperor of Mankind, and I have a duty to confront the works of the Archenemy." He spares a glance to the freakish pelagers at the edge of the church grounds, with their webbed appendages and gilled necks, and the motley collection of other Imperial citizens in their hard-worn labour gear and rag-castings. All staring up at him. He turns back to Eriko. "What sort of priest would I be to shirk my duty? I would help you with the rites." His tone is severe indeed, despite the hesitation in it.

But Eriko sees the bitterness in his gaze, the shame. Tibim ministers to the abhuman and the lowliest of classes. It is not a position many sanctioned priests of the Ecclesiarchy would pursue with relish, but rather a posting for those priests who have fallen out of favor. Such a priest may have something to prove if only to themselves.

OOC: You can attempt to convince the priest to remain outside or take him with you. Up to you.

greendoor said:
"I'll need the details of your own protective measures." Caelia says. "The capabilities of your groundcar for example, any personal armoring or shielding on your person, personal armament and inclination to use." The priest didn't look armed, but he'd be a strange priest indeed if he didn't have at least a ceremonial weapon of office stashed away somewhere, and she needed to know if he was the sort to try and fight if there was a security incident-or do the smart thing and get behind her armor real quick.

"Come to think of it, I'd want to know how well you can trust your staff, and the staff of the place we are to go. People to watch." She adds. She highly doubted any such people were dangerous to the Priest, or if he knew such, but it might be best to test the boundaries of his perceptions in this matter.

"Finally..." She paused a moment, looking down at the Slayer of 10,000. It's name might rightly be the problem-it was quite the slayer but useful for little outside of high lethality ballistic violence. "If your Grace would excuse the time, I might need to speak the Armory priests briefly. A less lethal option in case we might run into problems that don't merit my holy Bolts. Should only take a few minutes."

"It's an Anchelon Model," Constantius says, beaming. At Caelia's lack of response, his smile quickly falters. "It's ah...Dreverarch has its own local groundcar industry, actually. Not well known, but the Anchelon is a top of the line model. It-" he clicks his tongue, considering. "Fast, very maneuverable. Good off-road traction, too. Water-proof, of course. But it's not armed or armoured."

He waves a hand at his personage. "My robes are mesh-lined, though I've never, ah, had their effectiveness tested I've been informed they're durable. Shield Robes have a reputation for a reason." He reaches under his robes, producing a snub-nosed revolver with a wooden grip. "I don't usually carry this, but with things as they are, I've started making the habit. I've a ceremonial staff in the car. Not exactly designed to be used as a weapon, but it can crack a skull readily enough. I sometimes use it for staff-fighting at the collegium. Very popular, and I do believe I've done well for myself on the circuit."

Constantius looks the heavily armoured form of Caelia up and down, his eyes lingering on her boltgun and combat blades. "I'm loathe to admit it, but I'm not much of a fighter. I know some shooting from hunting with my aunt, and I'll admit I'm quite handy with a quarterstaff, but I've no illusions about my chances against a band of heretics."

He blinks at your question. "My staff? I-well, of course they can be trusted. I know them well, and most of them are from the Ecclesiarchy. The guildsmen are well respected, and the university? I mean, they...Hrm." He pauses, rubbing his chin. "Well, they're hardly cultists."

A stern look from Caelia has the Arch-Priest sigh and wave a hand through the air. [Intimidate Check success] "There can certainly be violence around the university. There was that riot last year that ended with several buildings being damaged, a pub burned down and a lot of people injured, and there was that sword fight three months hence a few students died from. But it's hardly heresy. Just stupidity. And I can hardly claim innocence there." he smiles, fondly. "Before I donned the cloth I may have gotten into a few street brawls myself as a student. And there was that pistol duel-But well, you know what they say about the follies of youth!"

Not that Constantius exactly looks like he isn't a youth.

He hesitates a moment, then waves Caelia onward. "I'll simply be sitting here, then. But please, do hurry, Sister."

The armoury is quiet at this time, largely only occupied by a handful of menials depositing ammunition boxes and polishing weaponry. An elder woman, a veteran of the Adepta Sororitas bythe fleur de lys tattoo on her furrowed cheeks, glances at Caelia with crimson eyes. Her augmetic support exoskeleton groans as she leans forward. The smell of fyceline, oil, and tonics wafts off her as her spidery hands place down the chainsword she was inspecting on the counter. "You're the one from Rathitta's command. Why are you back already? You need something?"

Zeitgeist Blue · Nov 21, 2020

Shephard said:
The final planning and preparation is underway, and both Sisters get called by their respective teams to join a huddle as they hash out a plan for the first round. The Sisters can focus their attention on tackling the opposition (Athletics (S), focused on defense), running the ball (Athletics (ag) to actually score the ball) or another role of their choosing such as being an intermediary for passing the ball (Athletics (BS), boosts NPCs) or shielding their team mates (Athletics (T), helps negates tackles). The game is split into three rounds total.

OOC: This is based loosely off the quick-play rules for Middenball in WHFRP.

It's an oddly familiar thing from decades ago, the huddle before a sport is played. Eriko feels the body heat from her teammates. They are warmed up and ready for the game, playful fire behind their eyes. And as they discuss the roles and tactics among themselves, she realizes why it is so familiar. This is the hurried minutes before the eve of battle, the crush of a squad as they prepare for an ambush.

Eriko repeats what she had told Caelia, "My experience has been playing at the flanker position. Fast, tough, all-rounder. Point me to someone to tackle and I will try my best."

OOC: Eriko will focus on tackling the opposition. Strength 35

Shephard said:
Tibim bows his head. "You honour me, Sister Eriko. And you have my thanks."

He turns toward the heavy doors, producing a pass-key for the key-slate, but slows to a halt by the doors as Eriko speaks. He pauses a moment, closing his eyes. "Your offer is generous, Sister Eriko, and after the blasphemy I witnessed within, I would love nothing more than to remain out here whilst you do your work. But I am a priest of the God-Emperor of Mankind, and I have a duty to confront the works of the Archenemy." He spares a glance to the freakish pelagers at the edge of the church grounds, with their webbed appendages and gilled necks, and the motley collection of other Imperial citizens in their hard-worn labour gear and rag-castings. All staring up at him. He turns back to Eriko. "What sort of priest would I be to shirk my duty? I would help you with the rites." His tone is severe indeed, despite the hesitation in it.

But Eriko sees the bitterness in his gaze, the shame. Tibim ministers to the abhuman and the lowliest of classes. It is not a position many sanctioned priests of the Ecclesiarchy would pursue with relish, but rather a posting for those priests who have fallen out of favor. Such a priest may have something to prove if only to themselves.

OOC: You can attempt to convince the priest to remain outside or take him with you. Up to you.

Eriko nods at the priest's words, a grim look behind her faceplate. She too knew what it was like to fall from grace. The scratching climb back up was nothing if but brutal to the inner-self of a person.

She turns her gaze outward to the priest's flock. They look at them with hopeful, abhuman eyes and she understands. This was a shame of his, to be consigned to ministering the abhuman and wallow in dirt and poverty. What low act he had committed to be assigned here, she would not ask, but she understood well enough from her own experience.

"Very well, Father," she says. "Let us accompany each other in this endeavour."

greendoor · Nov 23, 2020

Shephard said:
"Ah well, it is only Eriko," Gwynais says. "I'm sure that Ilana can forgive you beating her to a pulp!"

Katia plants her hands on her hips, shooting her friend a glare. "Come on, Sister. Leave the poor Hospitaller alone."

Gwynais shrugs her shoulders. "Alright, but only until the game starts. Then she's fair game."

"Like I said, I'm sure Eriko will put up quite a fight and try to beat me to a pulp. It's only sporting." Caelia says, with a shrug. "Sister Ilanna will understand."

OOC: Caelia will focus on Defending against Tackles. Athletics+0, Toughness 40

Shephard said:
"It's an Anchelon Model," Constantius says, beaming. At Caelia's lack of response, his smile quickly falters. "It's ah...Dreverarch has its own local groundcar industry, actually. Not well known, but the Anchelon is a top of the line model. It-" he clicks his tongue, considering. "Fast, very maneuverable. Good off-road traction, too. Water-proof, of course. But it's not armed or armoured."

He waves a hand at his personage. "My robes are mesh-lined, though I've never, ah, had their effectiveness tested I've been informed they're durable. Shield Robes have a reputation for a reason." He reaches under his robes, producing a snub-nosed revolver with a wooden grip. "I don't usually carry this, but with things as they are, I've started making the habit. I've a ceremonial staff in the car. Not exactly designed to be used as a weapon, but it can crack a skull readily enough. I sometimes use it for staff-fighting at the collegium. Very popular, and I do believe I've done well for myself on the circuit."

Constantius looks the heavily armoured form of Caelia up and down, his eyes lingering on her boltgun and combat blades. "I'm loathe to admit it, but I'm not much of a fighter. I know some shooting from hunting with my aunt, and I'll admit I'm quite handy with a quarterstaff, but I've no illusions about my chances against a band of heretics."

Caelia nods at the priest's self description. Good, he wouldn't try to win a firefight against a band of Assassins, as unlikely as it was.

"If someone attacks, shelter behind my armor until I can secure your extraction then, your Eminence."

Shephard said:
He blinks at your question. "My staff? I-well, of course they can be trusted. I know them well, and most of them are from the Ecclesiarchy. The guildsmen are well respected, and the university? I mean, they...Hrm." He pauses, rubbing his chin. "Well, they're hardly cultists."

A stern look from Caelia has the Arch-Priest sigh and wave a hand through the air. [Intimidate Check success] "There can certainly be violence around the university. There was that riot last year that ended with several buildings being damaged, a pub burned down and a lot of people injured, and there was that sword fight three months hence a few students died from. But it's hardly heresy. Just stupidity. And I can hardly claim innocence there." he smiles, fondly. "Before I donned the cloth I may have gotten into a few street brawls myself as a student. And there was that pistol duel-But well, you know what they say about the follies of youth!"

Not that Constantius exactly looks like he isn't a youth.

That was concerning. Was this world so disordered that it allowed it's university students free access to swords and sidearms with which to duel eachother? That they allowed riots from unruly mobs of students?

That their students had the free time to even do such? How lax were the Professors at this university?

"If the University is potentially a conflict zone, then I will want to procure additional less lethal weaponry." Caelia says, calmly. "If there is a riot, or Emperor forbid, some form of sword fight, I will need to be prepared to defend your personage without collateral damage."

Shephard said:
The armoury is quiet at this time, largely only occupied by a handful of menials depositing ammunition boxes and polishing weaponry. An elder woman, a veteran of the Adepta Sororitas bythe fleur de lys tattoo on her furrowed cheeks, glances at Caelia with crimson eyes. Her augmetic support exoskeleton groans as she leans forward. The smell of fyceline, oil, and tonics wafts off her as her spidery hands place down the chainsword she was inspecting on the counter. "You're the one from Rathitta's command. Why are you back already? You need something?"

Caelia bows slightly to the elder sister. Always respect the veterans.

"I realized I find myself lacking a less lethal option, Sister, and my duties may require such, given the lack of high intensity combat within the rise." She glances around the armory, as if looking for options. "I dislike being caught unprepared, and even a few choke gas grenades or a shock baton might help the execution of my duties without endangering Imperial citizen's."

Shephard · Dec 22, 2020

greendoor said:
"Like I said, I'm sure Eriko will put up quite a fight and try to beat me to a pulp. It's only sporting." Caelia says, with a shrug. "Sister Ilanna will understand."

OOC: Caelia will focus on Defending against Tackles. Athletics+0, Toughness 40

Zeitgeist Blue said:
It's an oddly familiar thing from decades ago, the huddle before a sport is played. Eriko feels the body heat from her teammates. They are warmed up and ready for the game, playful fire behind their eyes. And as they discuss the roles and tactics among themselves, she realizes why it is so familiar. This is the hurried minutes before the eve of battle, the crush of a squad as they prepare for an ambush.

Eriko repeats what she had told Caelia, "My experience has been playing at the flanker position. Fast, tough, all-rounder. Point me to someone to tackle and I will try my best."

OOC: Eriko will focus on tackling the opposition. Strength 35

The game proves hard-fought indeed as the Battle-Sisters go all out on one another. The leadership provided by the officers on Caelia's side proves initially insufficient to break through the line of Retributors and other Battle-Sisters, even with Caelia managing to halt a tackle by Eriko dead in its tracks. But Eriko's own attackers struggle to get past the well-placed defenders on Caelia's side of the field, and for the first round, the game drags on in an ugly stalemate. Each team makes a few meters of ground only to lose them just as quickly, until at last the whistle is called with the score nil on both sides.

The second round starts off well for Eriko's team. A lucky tackle steals the ball from one of Caelia's teammates, and a runner manages to slip past the guard and get in a lucky fluke win. Capitalizing on the shock, Eriko's team manages to score an additional goal, giving them a seemingly comfortable seven-point lead. Comfortable, at least, until Resedes calls for a time-out and quickly hashes out a plan with the other Sister-Superiors.

The ensuing blitzkrieg is perfectly aimed to force breaches into the opposing team's defenses and rush several balls home. It's certainly not wholly successful, and its bitterly fought, with several Sisters ending up sporting ugly bruises and scraps by the end. But it's enough for Caelia's team to eke out a three-point lead at 10 points by the time the second round wins.

The third round is neck and neck, with every single attempt by Caelia's attempt to break through being rebuffed despite the skilled leadership of the Sister-Superiors, Eriko herself halting one fledgeling breakthrough flat. Eriko's team manages to scrape in two more points, and as the game clock nears its zenith, Eriko's team pushes hard and it almost looks like the game will be tied. And then out of nowhere, Gwynais steals the ball and is sprinting down the field, dodging and weaving between the Retributors' like a manic. She stumbles in the last stretch, a Retributor charging forward to plow her down-and then Caelia comes in with the safe, halting the Retributor's charge long enough for Gwynais to scrape out a final point.

The game continues on for two minutes thereafter, but with Eriko's team unable to score any more goals, the final score comes out to 9-11 in the favour of Caelia's team. Cheers and curses alike fill the exercise chamber, as Sisters congratulate one another or offer their condolences.

"Well fought, Sisters," Resedes offers, clasping Eriko and Greiland's hands in turn. Nearby, Gwynais claps Caelia along the shoulder. "Nice save there, Sister! Katia, did you see that!"

"Well enough with Sister Miriah sitting on top of me," Katia says, a little enthusiasm in her voice. "Nice work, you two."

Zeitgeist Blue said:
Eriko nods at the priest's words, a grim look behind her faceplate. She too knew what it was like to fall from grace. The scratching climb back up was nothing if but brutal to the inner-self of a person.

She turns her gaze outward to the priest's flock. They look at them with hopeful, abhuman eyes and she understands. This was a shame of his, to be consigned to ministering the abhuman and wallow in dirt and poverty. What low act he had committed to be assigned here, she would not ask, but she understood well enough from her own experience.

"Very well, Father," she says. "Let us accompany each other in this endeavour."

The priest lets out a breath, seeming almost surprised he'd been holding it. "Thank you, Sister," he manages, as he produces the brass key to the temple lock. With a loud click, the chains come undone, and with a whispered prayer to the God-Emperor, the two servants of the Ecclesiarchy enter the shrine.

Eriko has seen worse in her years, much worse, and to far more holy sites, and there is little physical damage that would need to be repaired. But there is nonetheless horror to be found in the blasphemy. Over the Aquila and symbol of the Ecclesiarchy have been daubed in promethium and blood ugly runes and shapes that make ones' eyes seem to itch just looking at them. Tapestries, carvings and paintings, some of hand-made, likely local craftsmanship, have been daubed over in hideous mockery. Carvings showing Selverus Triumphant have been turned on their sides, the Daemons that once quailed before him now looming over him as crude tears weep from Selverus' eyes. Saint Leanna before the Four Daemons of Keleron is adorned with a crown of blood, the eight-pointed star daubed across her chest. Holy scriptures carved into the walls have been rendered illegible by bastardized prayers, hauntingly familiar to those Eriko knows, yet crying out to Daemons and Darker Powers rather than the divine Emperor.

At the heart of it all, the body of a Pelager, cleaned, gutted, and skinned like a fish made ready for supper. Bulbuous eyes stare upward, rimed with tears, toward the words scrawled upon the ceiling. There is no Emperor to save thee. This is the Truth of Old Night. That there are only the Gods of Araxes. The gods who made thee, and that thou hath forsaken.

Rejoice, for you rejoin them.

Father Tibim makes the sign of the Aquila over his heart, swallowing drily. "Let us begin," he says. And so the two of you begin to pray.

"Oh Emperor, Lord of Mankind,
He who sits upon the Golden Throne,
We beseech you,
Our Master, Our Liege,
Lord of ten thousand years and more,
Drive out the unclean spirits,
Drive out the taint of Chaos,
Hear this prayer, king of our hearts,
And banish this fiend from your sight..."

The work is long and arduous. Incense fills the space, as candles and prayers drive back the dark. Holy water and blessed oils are spilled across the floor and the walls, blood and promethium running in rivulets across the floors to be soaked by lines of salt. The presence within does not give up easily. The twos' lights gutter, an Aquila falls from where it hangs and cracks against the flooring. More than once Eriko swears she hears a whisper at the back of her head, in her own voice. Can this place truly be saved? Is this truly some unclean at work here, or just my imagination? Does the father hear them?

She forces the thoughts aside, even as they try to worm doubt into the marrow of her soul. Together with Father Tibim, she speaks the prayers of exorcism and righteousness. The body, torn as it is, proves difficult to remove. Its hide is slick, oily and black as midnight, and seems shockingly heavy for its size in her arms. The symbols carved into his flesh, the marks of his abhuman state in the gills and webbed fingers and toes, they seek to distract and disquiet her. But she does her duty. She purifies the body with holy oils, far beyond the man's typical means and wraps the body in a burial shroud, binding it tightly.

It is after midnight by the time the two of them have finished. Father Tibim sinks heavily into a chair, his breathing ragged and hands clasped in silent prayer. The chapel is still in disarray, and some of the stains may never wholly come out. But the malign presence is gone, the weight of it fled. In its place is an airiness, a lightness in the very air that uplifts Eriko's tired muscles. The chapel is cleansed.

greendoor said:
Caelia nods at the priest's self description. Good, he wouldn't try to win a firefight against a band of Assassins, as unlikely as it was.

"If someone attacks, shelter behind my armor until I can secure your extraction then, your Eminence."

That was concerning. Was this world so disordered that it allowed it's university students free access to swords and sidearms with which to duel eachother? That they allowed riots from unruly mobs of students?

That their students had the free time to even do such? How lax were the Professors at this university?

"If the University is potentially a conflict zone, then I will want to procure additional less lethal weaponry." Caelia says, calmly. "If there is a riot, or Emperor forbid, some form of sword fight, I will need to be prepared to defend your personage without collateral damage."

"To be entirely truthful, as much as it stings," the Arch-Priest notes, running a hand through his hair. "Hiding behind you was the idea."

Constantius' good cheer droops for a moment as Caelia considers, the man's brow furrowing. "Conflict zone? I think I may perhaps have overstated, but-" His eyes dip to the Battle-Sister's boltgun. His mouth shuts for a moment, gnawing on his lip. "I suppose if a drunk student does make some issue, the university would prefer they not get painted across the walkway."

greendoor said:
Caelia bows slightly to the elder sister. Always respect the veterans.

"I realized I find myself lacking a less lethal option, Sister, and my duties may require such, given the lack of high intensity combat within the rise." She glances around the armory, as if looking for options. "I dislike being caught unprepared, and even a few choke gas grenades or a shock baton might help the execution of my duties without endangering Imperial citizen's."

Her spidery bionics tap an irregular beat against the metal counter. "Hrmn. Less lethal, really? What is the Sisterhood coming to these days, that we're playing at Arbites?" she mutters, shifting forward with a groan of exoskeletal plates. "Fine. Very well, Sister. Less lethal it is."

Long quad-jointed fingers dance over the data-terminal's key-slate. A few moments later, the soft thrum of contra-grav reaches Caelia's ears. A pair of cherubim swoop down, angelic wings dancing to some imaginary air current as the tools the Sister had requested dangle from their flawless, infantile hands. One of the cherub hovers low, the hefty shock-maul held in its outstretched hands in offering, as though presenting the holiest of relics. The soft hymnals that sing through their synthesizers fill the Sister's ears as she mag-locks the maul at her side, followed thereafter by a belt of a trio of choke-gas grenades.

"There you are, Sister. And if you do get a chance to use those on someone," the veteran says, leaning forward, the stink of preservatives and medical tonics washing over Caelia. "Don't go too gentle on 'em. Give 'em hell for me, Sister."

Caelia's time with Constantius proves interesting, if hardly exciting. Her presence at the guild-hall is received with no small awkwardness, as prim and proper merchant lords and ladies dressed in ostentatious local fashions look askance upon a guard as obvious as a Sister of Battle. Certainly, there's all sorts of hired lasmen patrolling about, but none of them wear power armour. She finds merchants with high wigs, embroidered silk skirts and coats, and other forms of fashion uncomfortably attempting to make small talk with her throughout the night. She manages to not embarrass herrself, falling upon the noble airs taught to her by her House, but that does sometimes discomfit them even more. Few among the crowd hail from a truly powerful position in the commercia guilds or possess any sort of nobility.

The highlight of that night proves to be the food, which Caelia is 'forced' to 'reluctantly accept' a sampling of by a merchant magnate helping host the event, Malakel Strakoa. A descendant of the clans of deeper within Dreverarch's swamps, the intricate tattoos he bears are initially off-putting due to their similarities with that of the Cult of Old Night's elites, but his disarming wit and easy humour make Caelia the most comfortable she had been all night, and not simply because he manages to give her cover to have a bite of slow-grilled Riveneel flank sauteed in lysenberry juice, aged cheddar and fresh olives, and even a taste of her homeland in a helping of fattened dormice, stuffed with succulent mince grox and slow-baked to perfection. No, the real entertainment is when the tall and winsome merchant begins flirting unashamedly with the Arch-Priest, growing bolder and bolder. Caelia's replaced helmet glaring down at Constantius only makes the ensuing conversation all the more entertaining, though alas, Constantius proves his discipline when he manages to disentangle himself with a modicum of dignity.

The next few days pass on in relative quiet after that. Caelia follows Constantius as he attends meetings with priests higher and lower-ranking, leads worship services, and teaches theology at the local university. The topics are well worn to the Battle-Sister, mostly revolving around a discussion on the nature and disagreements of the Emperor's God-Head and general familiarization with the rival interpretations of the nature of the Emperor's divinity, such as docetism. Caelia finds the class to be quite attentive, particularly to the Battle-Sister watching over them, and eventually, Constantius calls on her to discuss some of the topics of his lessons. The awe the class holds for the Sister of Battle does not fade.

Four days later, a groundcar plows into the side of Constantius' Anchelus. The Arch-Priest's car almost tips on its side from the impact, but the hull does not buckle, and the armour-crys glass holds. Constantius is left dazed, his driver groaning from a concussion and ugly cut along her forehead, but no other injuries are sustained. The other groundcar is so lucky, its entire front caved inward and the machine-spirit of its cracked engine groaning in misery, and then when its driver spills out shouting, hand on the holster of a sidearm. Only the Emperor's mercy keeps Caelia from immediately putting a bolt through what appears to be some ill-advised cult ambush, long enough to realize the man's shouts are about 'watching where you're driving you dumb bastard' followed by horrified pleas for mercy as he recognizes that he just struck a priest's car and the Sister of Battle glaring down at him.

"Forget it, let the enforcers handle it. Ugh, this is never going to buff out," Constantius sighs, glancing over the damage as his driver holds a synth-flesh bandage over her wound. The man should consider himself fortunate that Constantius didn't press for execution.

Six days after that, a pair of heretics do make an attempt on the Arch-Priest. The thunder of gunfire rings loud outside Constantius' office, Caelia forcing the Arch-Priest into cover whilst she readies herself at the door. Long minutes pass before the all-clear is given. The cultists were spotted after lockpicking a door on the first floor. One was gunned down with some effort, whilst the other made it three streets away before being torn apart by an enforcer's cyber-mastiff.

Two weeks pass thereafter. Two long weeks. A call from Palais informs Caelia that the Mission is finishing up in the Little Cog district, and some elements will be returning to the Rise shortly. Until then, well, continue holding tight.

And hold tight Caelia does, keeping close to Constantius as the Arch-Priest takes a loud, crunching bite out of some juicy, purple-skinned local fruit. "Attempted bombing down at one of the quarantine lines, another cache of guns turning up...I have to apologize, Sister. So much is happening and so little of it seems directed at me after all," he sighs, flicking the fruit's core into a passing waste receptacle. "Still, I suppose it sounds like your Mission hasn't had that much excitement either," He pauses glancing at Caelia as her attention turns away. "Sister Caelia? Something wrong?"

Her auto-senses pick it up, the clash of blade on blade. She steps out in front of the Arch-Priest, wary for a battle ahead.

Fortunately or perhaps unfortunately, it proves to just be two young university students dueling one another with swords, shouting barely coherent High Gothic at one another before a crowd of on-lookers, some of them cheering it on, and others calling for the fight to stop. One of the students spots the Battle-Sister and Arch-Priest and stumbles mid-strike, and finds his blade knocked from his grasp and his opponent's sword at his throat.

"Yield, knave! And recant your r-recrim-what you said about the Sisterhood!" The winner of the duel stumbles drunkenly over the words, swaying in and out of High Gothic.

"I yield, I yield! They're extremely militarily important! And amazing fighters! And wise, smart, beautiful, whatever else you want! And not macabre at all!" The other youth shouts in reply. "Can I go now?"

"No, no. You're forgetting about the-the...What was the other thing," the winning youth mumbles, then his eyes widen as they fall upon Caelia. He stares for a long moment, long enough for the other youth to creep away, snap up his sword and make for the hills. A sizeable portion of the crowd hastily follows, chased by Constantius' gaze.

The winning youth makes his way forward, practically bouncing with energy. Caelia quickly recognizes him as one of the more attentive students from Constantius' classes, though he doesn't exactly look it right now. "Ahah. I didn't see you there, Sister. And Arch-Priest. Ahhh, My s-sincere 'pologies,"

"Belial Brieger. You're drunk. How are you even drunk, the nearest tavern is at least-" Constantius sighs, folding his arms across his chest. "Throne's sake, Belial, I can't be having my students dying of stab wounds on the accursed campus grounds. Please tell me that sword isn't edged?"

"Oh, oh, yes, yes it is, but-But it had to be done," The lad replies, struggling a moment to sheathe his blade even as his cheeks flush an even deeper red. "That awful, terrible-He was disparaging the holiest Sororities. Sororitas. The most holy Sisterhood. I couldn't let that stand! Especially not when they've sent such a-A-wonderful and brilliant and beautiful Sister to protect us from heretics an-and ne'er do wells and traitors and also heretics! Hero of the Imperium, that's what you are, Sister Caelia!"

Constantius stares as Belial gives a dramatic flourish to Sister Caelia, seeming almost impressed that the lad manages to keep his feet. "Ah, not that someone as strong and smart and r-radiant as yourself needs any help defending your name, of course! I'm but a humble...Humble servant, your most holy Sisterlyness."

Constantius' eyes widen as he half turns, biting his lip. "Uhm, Sister Caelia. Please forgive my student for his ill-considered words. Bellial please shut up and go home before you say something you'll regret." Even Caelia, as unfamiliar as she is with such matters, is fairly certain that Belial seems besotted with her.

greendoor · Jan 18, 2021

Shephard said:
Nearby, Gwynais claps Caelia along the shoulder. "Nice save there, Sister! Katia, did you see that!"

"Well enough with Sister Miriah sitting on top of me," Katia says, a little enthusiasm in her voice. "Nice work, you two."

"Only my duty." Caelia says, mock humble. "Maybe I missed my calling as a Principality." She adds. After all, it's much the same principle as blocking a tackle, just with more chainswords.

She felt energized and alive. Nothing like Victory.

+++++++++++

Shephard said:
Her spidery bionics tap an irregular beat against the metal counter. "Hrmn. Less lethal, really? What is the Sisterhood coming to these days, that we're playing at Arbites?" she mutters, shifting forward with a groan of exoskeletal plates. "Fine. Very well, Sister. Less lethal it is."

Long quad-jointed fingers dance over the data-terminal's key-slate. A few moments later, the soft thrum of contra-grav reaches Caelia's ears. A pair of cherubim swoop down, angelic wings dancing to some imaginary air current as the tools the Sister had requested dangle from their flawless, infantile hands. One of the cherub hovers low, the hefty shock-maul held in its outstretched hands in offering, as though presenting the holiest of relics. The soft hymnals that sing through their synthesizers fill the Sister's ears as she mag-locks the maul at her side, followed thereafter by a belt of a trio of choke-gas grenades.

"There you are, Sister. And if you do get a chance to use those on someone," the veteran says, leaning forward, the stink of preservatives and medical tonics washing over Caelia. "Don't go too gentle on 'em. Give 'em hell for me, Sister."

"Don't worry, Sister." Caelia says, assuredly. "Less Lethal is only effective if they have something painful to remember and prevent them from sinning again."

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

Shephard said:
Caelia's time with Constantius proves interesting, if hardly exciting. Her presence at the guild-hall is received with no small awkwardness, as prim and proper merchant lords and ladies dressed in ostentatious local fashions look askance upon a guard as obvious as a Sister of Battle. Certainly, there's all sorts of hired lasmen patrolling about, but none of them wear power armour. She finds merchants with high wigs, embroidered silk skirts and coats, and other forms of fashion uncomfortably attempting to make small talk with her throughout the night. She manages to not embarrass herrself, falling upon the noble airs taught to her by her House, but that does sometimes discomfit them even more. Few among the crowd hail from a truly powerful position in the commercia guilds or possess any sort of nobility.

The highlight of that night proves to be the food, which Caelia is 'forced' to 'reluctantly accept' a sampling of by a merchant magnate helping host the event, Malakel Strakoa. A descendant of the clans of deeper within Dreverarch's swamps, the intricate tattoos he bears are initially off-putting due to their similarities with that of the Cult of Old Night's elites, but his disarming wit and easy humour make Caelia the most comfortable she had been all night, and not simply because he manages to give her cover to have a bite of slow-grilled Riveneel flank sauteed in lysenberry juice, aged cheddar and fresh olives, and even a taste of her homeland in a helping of fattened dormice, stuffed with succulent mince grox and slow-baked to perfection. No, the real entertainment is when the tall and winsome merchant begins flirting unashamedly with the Arch-Priest, growing bolder and bolder. Caelia's replaced helmet glaring down at Constantius only makes the ensuing conversation all the more entertaining, though alas, Constantius proves his discipline when he manages to disentangle himself with a modicum of dignity.

Caelia could only thank the Schola for the discipline that prevented her from laughing at this display.

She was well aware that civilians and those not trained to the standards of the Sororitas lacked the same discipline and restraint that she was blessed with, but the brazenness of the merchant was bizarre indeed. Only the lack of reaction from the rest of the party's occupants prevented her from intervening-that and she wasn't sure how she would intervene in such a situation.

Best to stay back, observe, and try not avoid laughter.

Shephard said:
Four days later, a groundcar plows into the side of Constantius' Anchelus. The Arch-Priest's car almost tips on its side from the impact, but the hull does not buckle, and the armour-crys glass holds. Constantius is left dazed, his driver groaning from a concussion and ugly cut along her forehead, but no other injuries are sustained. The other groundcar is so lucky, its entire front caved inward and the machine-spirit of its cracked engine groaning in misery, and then when its driver spills out shouting, hand on the holster of a sidearm. Only the Emperor's mercy keeps Caelia from immediately putting a bolt through what appears to be some ill-advised cult ambush, long enough to realize the man's shouts are about 'watching where you're driving you dumb bastard' followed by horrified pleas for mercy as he recognizes that he just struck a priest's car and the Sister of Battle glaring down at him.

"Forget it, let the enforcers handle it. Ugh, this is never going to buff out," Constantius sighs, glancing over the damage as his driver holds a synth-flesh bandage over her wound. The man should consider himself fortunate that Constantius didn't press for execution.

"Hands behind your head! KNEEL AS LEANNA KNELT!"

Caelia's warhelm roared as she bought the Slayer of Ten Thousand up to cover the first potential Assassin, finger just off the trigger. Adrenaline poured through her veins as she searched for the rest of the ambush elements. Snipers, other cars, more cultists spilling out the back of this one.

None of them came

And now the driver was doing as she commanded, babbling pleas for mercy.

Ah, just a bad driver then. Almost disappointing in a way.

"Lose the Sidearm." Caelia hisses to the idiot, then stands at attention at Constantius's side and keeps a look out. It'd be truly embarrassing for a Cult Assassin to take him out just after she thought things were clear.

She also awaited the Priest's word on what to do with the idiot. Electrolashing might do him good and push him to improve his driving, or perhaps an imposed fast.

Let the Enforcer's handle it. Ah, not her problem then.

"As you wish, your Eminence." Caelia said, not for the first time that week.

Shephard said:
Six days after that, a pair of heretics do make an attempt on the Arch-Priest. The thunder of gunfire rings loud outside Constantius' office, Caelia forcing the Arch-Priest into cover whilst she readies herself at the door. Long minutes pass before the all-clear is given. The cultists were spotted after lockpicking a door on the first floor. One was gunned down with some effort, whilst the other made it three streets away before being torn apart by an enforcer's cyber-mastiff.

"Get down, your Eminence!" Caelia shouted, pushing the priest behind his desk while sweeping up the Slayer in the other hand.

Gunfire, rippling, short bursts that indicated a short but vicious gunfight. There were Enforcers out there, so likely one half of the gunfire. The other could be anyone else really, but she'd bet on Cultists (not that she bet).

She listened to the gunfire for a few seconds. Shotguns, Autorifles, and what she thought was probably a stub pistol somewhere in there. Nothing beyond small arms. She flattened herself against the door, bracing it, and placing herself in a position to fire out into the hallway outside from a commanding position should it be opened.

She itched to head out and join the fight, assist the Enforcers, see some actual action. But her duty was to the Arch-Priest, and with only small arms out there she was well aware that the Enforcers would likely be able to handle it without her heading out and leaving her principle uncovered.

The gunfire went on for a little while more. One or two more minutes, before petering out. She didn't lower the Slayer.

"Stay down, your Eminence. We can't be sure this isn't some trick until we get the all clear code from the Enforcers." Caelia said, calmly.

She allowed herself a little joy. With the near security breach, at least there'd be some excitement reviewing what nearly went wrong.

Maybe she'd find out they weren't even cultists, but some local criminals who picked the wrong building. Wouldn't that be amusing.

Shephard said:
And hold tight Caelia does, keeping close to Constantius as the Arch-Priest takes a loud, crunching bite out of some juicy, purple-skinned local fruit. "Attempted bombing down at one of the quarantine lines, another cache of guns turning up...I have to apologize, Sister. So much is happening and so little of it seems directed at me after all," he sighs, flicking the fruit's core into a passing waste receptacle. "Still, I suppose it sounds like your Mission hasn't had that much excitement either," He pauses glancing at Caelia as her attention turns away. "Sister Caelia? Something wrong?"

Her auto-senses pick it up, the clash of blade on blade. She steps out in front of the Arch-Priest, wary for a battle ahead.

"No need to apologize, your Eminence." Caelia said. "It might not be the most exciting, but it's better than Swamp patrol at least."

That was entirely true. Either way it'd be a lot of boredom and not a lot of enemy contact. At least here there was less marching through swamps and hoping the armor's environmental seal held up this time. Besides, this had been almost pleasent, in a boring way. She likely wouldn't ask for the duty again, but she wouldn't' begrudge it either.

"In fact, it was alm-"

Her hand shot to her weapon, helmet turning away from the Priest, rest of her armored bulk stepping in front of him.

"Trouble. Stay behind me, Your Eminence." She replied, a bit sharper than she intended.

Her autosense pickups heard it first. The steel song of blade on blade. She waited a moment, listening for the crack of Lasguns, the thunder of autofire, or the roar of chainweapons. Battlecries, screams of the wounded.

Nothing but those swords.

"Someone's having a duel." She said. Which would likely be Constantius' job to deal with. Still, no reason to not be cautious "Stay behind me still, your Eminence. Until I'm sure."

Shephard said:
Fortunately or perhaps unfortunately, it proves to just be two young university students dueling one another with swords, shouting barely coherent High Gothic at one another before a crowd of on-lookers, some of them cheering it on, and others calling for the fight to stop. One of the students spots the Battle-Sister and Arch-Priest and stumbles mid-strike, and finds his blade knocked from his grasp and his opponent's sword at his throat.

"Yield, knave! And recant your r-recrim-what you said about the Sisterhood!" The winner of the duel stumbles drunkenly over the words, swaying in and out of High Gothic.

"I yield, I yield! They're extremely militarily important! And amazing fighters! And wise, smart, beautiful, whatever else you want! And not macabre at all!" The other youth shouts in reply. "Can I go now?"

"No, no. You're forgetting about the-the...What was the other thing," the winning youth mumbles, then his eyes widen as they fall upon Caelia. He stares for a long moment, long enough for the other youth to creep away, snap up his sword and make for the hills. A sizeable portion of the crowd hastily follows, chased by Constantius' gaze.

Caelia was baffled. Not over the fact that people had been fighting, but by and how. What was wrong with this university, that it allowed it's students to grow so undisciplined that they'd resolve their differences in an unsanctioned duel? That they had such access to alcohol as to become intoxicated upon the university grounds? And most of all, that they had somehow been allowed access to the armory, or even more baffingly, allowed to carry personal weapons on university grounds?

She defaulted to simply staring sternly down upon the students. Hand on her Shock Baton, in case any of the undisciplined crowd of students decided to go one step further and protest the Priest's rulings. She glared at the defeated youth in particular. Was he some form of heretic, who had spoken out against their sisterhood? Was that what had driven this other student to attempted murder?

No, as he spoke, it seemed likely he was just an idiot who had little idea of the Adeptas Sororitas role within the larger Imperium. A forgivable sin.

Shephard said:
The winning youth makes his way forward, practically bouncing with energy. Caelia quickly recognizes him as one of the more attentive students from Constantius' classes, though he doesn't exactly look it right now. "Ahah. I didn't see you there, Sister. And Arch-Priest. Ahhh, My s-sincere 'pologies,"

"Belial Brieger. You're drunk. How are you even drunk, the nearest tavern is at least-" Constantius sighs, folding his arms across his chest. "Throne's sake, Belial, I can't be having my students dying of stab wounds on the accursed campus grounds. Please tell me that sword isn't edged?"

"Oh, oh, yes, yes it is, but-But it had to be done," The lad replies, struggling a moment to sheathe his blade even as his cheeks flush an even deeper red. "That awful, terrible-He was disparaging the holiest Sororities. Sororitas. The most holy Sisterhood. I couldn't let that stand! Especially not when they've sent such a-A-wonderful and brilliant and beautiful Sister to protect us from heretics an-and ne'er do wells and traitors and also heretics! Hero of the Imperium, that's what you are, Sister Caelia!"

Constantius stares as Belial gives a dramatic flourish to Sister Caelia, seeming almost impressed that the lad manages to keep his feet. "Ah, not that someone as strong and smart and r-radiant as yourself needs any help defending your name, of course! I'm but a humble...Humble servant, your most holy Sisterlyness."

Constantius' eyes widen as he half turns, biting his lip. "Uhm, Sister Caelia. Please forgive my student for his ill-considered words. Bellial please shut up and go home before you say something you'll regret." Even Caelia, as unfamiliar as she is with such matters, is fairly certain that Belial seems besotted with her.

Caelia stared in incomprehension at the youth. Oh, his goal of defending the Sisterhood's honor was commendable, though she would've preferred to put the other duelist in his place on her own if it was actually worth her time.

No, what was so incomprehensible was that he would go so far to do so. Alcohol, the seeming duel to the death, the edged blade that she was very glad the student had at last sheathed. She would ask herself if this boy was aware he could be lashed and drummed out of the university in dishonor for this (Or even shot, had he wounded his opponent), but as she observed the crowd and Constantius's reactions it seemed like she had severely overestimated the level of discipline expected of these students.

Then the student kept speaking and it slowly dawned on Caelia. He wasn't doing it just for the honor of the Sisterhood in an abstract sense, but specifically because of her. She'd been at the university, had spoken from time to time at Constantius' request. The student would've been there, and the way he spoke of her...

Was he besotted with her?

Such things were also foreign to her. To be certain, there had been relationships at the Schola, but like all things those had been strictly regulated and kept disciplined. And to those who exam scores would push them to become Sisters of Battle, there was even less time or desire for even that in between faith, duty, and endless training drills. Caelia herself had not been among the rare exceptions.

She had to speak, but what would she even say?

"Student." Caelia says, deciding to keep this as formal as possible. "While I appreciate your attempt to defend the honor of the Adeptas Sororitas." She says curtly. "I would suggest you follow the advice of your Arch-Priest before you suffer consequences of your ill choices."

Hopefully that would discourage him.

Zeitgeist Blue · Jan 19, 2021

Shephard said:
The game proves hard-fought indeed as the Battle-Sisters go all out on one another. The leadership provided by the officers on Caelia's side proves initially insufficient to break through the line of Retributors and other Battle-Sisters, even with Caelia managing to halt a tackle by Eriko dead in its tracks. But Eriko's own attackers struggle to get past the well-placed defenders on Caelia's side of the field, and for the first round, the game drags on in an ugly stalemate. Each team makes a few meters of ground only to lose them just as quickly, until at last the whistle is called with the score nil on both sides.

The second round starts off well for Eriko's team. A lucky tackle steals the ball from one of Caelia's teammates, and a runner manages to slip past the guard and get in a lucky fluke win. Capitalizing on the shock, Eriko's team manages to score an additional goal, giving them a seemingly comfortable seven-point lead. Comfortable, at least, until Resedes calls for a time-out and quickly hashes out a plan with the other Sister-Superiors.

The ensuing blitzkrieg is perfectly aimed to force breaches into the opposing team's defenses and rush several balls home. It's certainly not wholly successful, and its bitterly fought, with several Sisters ending up sporting ugly bruises and scraps by the end. But it's enough for Caelia's team to eke out a three-point lead at 10 points by the time the second round wins.

The third round is neck and neck, with every single attempt by Caelia's attempt to break through being rebuffed despite the skilled leadership of the Sister-Superiors, Eriko herself halting one fledgeling breakthrough flat. Eriko's team manages to scrape in two more points, and as the game clock nears its zenith, Eriko's team pushes hard and it almost looks like the game will be tied. And then out of nowhere, Gwynais steals the ball and is sprinting down the field, dodging and weaving between the Retributors' like a manic. She stumbles in the last stretch, a Retributor charging forward to plow her down-and then Caelia comes in with the safe, halting the Retributor's charge long enough for Gwynais to scrape out a final point.

The game continues on for two minutes thereafter, but with Eriko's team unable to score any more goals, the final score comes out to 9-11 in the favour of Caelia's team. Cheers and curses alike fill the exercise chamber, as Sisters congratulate one another or offer their condolences.

"Well fought, Sisters," Resedes offers, clasping Eriko and Greiland's hands in turn. Nearby, Gwynais claps Caelia along the shoulder. "Nice save there, Sister! Katia, did you see that!"

"Well enough with Sister Miriah sitting on top of me," Katia says, a little enthusiasm in her voice. "Nice work, you two."

"Thank you, Sister," Eriko says as she wipes the sweat from her face. They had acquitted themselves well, even through the loss. Many sported bruises to show for their effort, and she too was not spared that physical pain.

greendoor said:
"Only my duty." Caelia says, mock humble. "Maybe I missed my calling as a Principality." She adds. After all, it's much the same principle as blocking a tackle, just with more chainswords.

She felt energized and alive. Nothing like Victory.

"Perhaps a shield will suit you well, Sister," Eriko responds. "You could try it in our next mission to change how we go about. Leanna knows we need excitement in our engagements. But if you will excuse me, I need to access the showers. I have sword practice with Sister Ophania in under an hour or thereabouts."

She bent down to gather her things into her bag as she said so.

Shephard said:
The priest lets out a breath, seeming almost surprised he'd been holding it. "Thank you, Sister," he manages, as he produces the brass key to the temple lock. With a loud click, the chains come undone, and with a whispered prayer to the God-Emperor, the two servants of the Ecclesiarchy enter the shrine.

Eriko has seen worse in her years, much worse, and to far more holy sites, and there is little physical damage that would need to be repaired. But there is nonetheless horror to be found in the blasphemy. Over the Aquila and symbol of the Ecclesiarchy have been daubed in promethium and blood ugly runes and shapes that make ones' eyes seem to itch just looking at them. Tapestries, carvings and paintings, some of hand-made, likely local craftsmanship, have been daubed over in hideous mockery. Carvings showing Selverus Triumphant have been turned on their sides, the Daemons that once quailed before him now looming over him as crude tears weep from Selverus' eyes. Saint Leanna before the Four Daemons of Keleron is adorned with a crown of blood, the eight-pointed star daubed across her chest. Holy scriptures carved into the walls have been rendered illegible by bastardized prayers, hauntingly familiar to those Eriko knows, yet crying out to Daemons and Darker Powers rather than the divine Emperor.

At the heart of it all, the body of a Pelager, cleaned, gutted, and skinned like a fish made ready for supper. Bulbuous eyes stare upward, rimed with tears, toward the words scrawled upon the ceiling. There is no Emperor to save thee. This is the Truth of Old Night. That there are only the Gods of Araxes. The gods who made thee, and that thou hath forsaken.

Rejoice, for you rejoin them.

Father Tibim makes the sign of the Aquila over his heart, swallowing drily. "Let us begin," he says. And so the two of you begin to pray.

"Oh Emperor, Lord of Mankind,
He who sits upon the Golden Throne,
We beseech you,
Our Master, Our Liege,
Lord of ten thousand years and more,
Drive out the unclean spirits,
Drive out the taint of Chaos,
Hear this prayer, king of our hearts,
And banish this fiend from your sight..."

The work is long and arduous. Incense fills the space, as candles and prayers drive back the dark. Holy water and blessed oils are spilled across the floor and the walls, blood and promethium running in rivulets across the floors to be soaked by lines of salt. The presence within does not give up easily. The twos' lights gutter, an Aquila falls from where it hangs and cracks against the flooring. More than once Eriko swears she hears a whisper at the back of her head, in her own voice. Can this place truly be saved? Is this truly some unclean at work here, or just my imagination? Does the father hear them?

She forces the thoughts aside, even as they try to worm doubt into the marrow of her soul. Together with Father Tibim, she speaks the prayers of exorcism and righteousness. The body, torn as it is, proves difficult to remove. Its hide is slick, oily and black as midnight, and seems shockingly heavy for its size in her arms. The symbols carved into his flesh, the marks of his abhuman state in the gills and webbed fingers and toes, they seek to distract and disquiet her. But she does her duty. She purifies the body with holy oils, far beyond the man's typical means and wraps the body in a burial shroud, binding it tightly.

It was the work of hours, and though there was no physical threat, unclean spirits had laid claim to the place and fought against one's soul. But Eriko had come prepared. She had brought her wooden charms, written on them carefully with ink and brush. She had brought her purification wand, salt and water aplenty. Her book of consecration stood ready, though she had memorized it from cover to cover.

And she was deaf and blind to the temptations and blasphemies the unclean spirits threw at her. Holy runes writ across the Storm of Summer protected her further, shielded her from the worst of the defiled church's machinations.

As Tibim was busy scrubbing away the carved blasphemous prayers on the side, she stepped before the altar as a cold wind ran up her spine. She ignored it, instead heaping salt atop the altar and wrapping a wooden charm around it, chanting a simple prayer of purification as she went.

"Hi fu mi yo i mu na ya ko to mo chi ro ra ne shi ki ru yu i tsu wa nu so o ta ha ku me ka u o e ni sa ri he te no ma su a se e ho re ke."

Shephard said:
It is after midnight by the time the two of them have finished. Father Tibim sinks heavily into a chair, his breathing ragged and hands clasped in silent prayer. The chapel is still in disarray, and some of the stains may never wholly come out. But the malign presence is gone, the weight of it fled. In its place is an airiness, a lightness in the very air that uplifts Eriko's tired muscles. The chapel is cleansed.

Days, it felt like. How long had they stayed inside, purifying and making the church whole again? The evil spirits had wanted to stay but at the end of it all, they had fled and the humble place of worship was ready for use once again.

Eriko stood straight in her warplate, her helmet maglocked on her hip, and she watched as Tibim sank into a chair. The candlelight laid heavy shadows on them and around the church, but it gave the air a peaceful mood, one better suited for prayerful meditation rather than something fearful and predatory.

"You did well, Father Tibim," Eriko says as she approaches one of her wooden charms hanging around the altar. It was a simple rectangle, no larger than her hand, and inscribed with wishes for good fortune. "Have you performed purification before? Without the protections offered by holy armour like mines, you had fared much better than most without even so much as one break from it all."

Shephard · Jan 22, 2021

Zeitgeist Blue said:
Days, it felt like. How long had they stayed inside, purifying and making the church whole again? The evil spirits had wanted to stay but at the end of it all, they had fled and the humble place of worship was ready for use once again.

Eriko stood straight in her warplate, her helmet maglocked on her hip, and she watched as Tibim sank into a chair. The candlelight laid heavy shadows on them and around the church, but it gave the air a peaceful mood, one better suited for prayerful meditation rather than something fearful and predatory.

"You did well, Father Tibim," Eriko says as she approaches one of her wooden charms hanging around the altar. It was a simple rectangle, no larger than her hand, and inscribed with wishes for good fortune. "Have you performed purification before? Without the protections offered by holy armour like mines, you had fared much better than most without even so much as one break from it all."

Father Tibim stares down at his clasped hands, sighing. "I have performed the rites and said the words. A haunted apartment, a mother who wouldn't accept that her son was simply ill, the body of a serial killer to ensure his spirit did not return. Perhaps there may have even been a ghost or some petty unclean spirit to cast out," he says, quietly. "Never anything such as this. Never anything so horrid as this."

His head tilts upward, toward the silver moon creeping through the smog-choked clouds above. Toward the abhumans and impoverished, waiting anxiously in the shadows. "The poor, the wretched, and the impure. These are my flock. My lowly flock. But I have a duty to serve them to the utmost. And I have a duty to He upon the Throne to safeguard His holy places, no matter how grand or how small. The risks to myself aren't of relevance." His eyes, tired and shadowed, turn toward Sister Eriko. "Thank you for your assistance today, Sister. You should further your compliments to my superiors. Perhaps if you seem earnest enough, they won't even defrock me."

He rises to his feet, and folds his hand into the sign of the Aquila. "I have a body to return to their family. Good night, Sister. You do your Order proud."

greendoor said:
Caelia stared in incomprehension at the youth. Oh, his goal of defending the Sisterhood's honor was commendable, though she would've preferred to put the other duelist in his place on her own if it was actually worth her time.

No, what was so incomprehensible was that he would go so far to do so. Alcohol, the seeming duel to the death, the edged blade that she was very glad the student had at last sheathed. She would ask herself if this boy was aware he could be lashed and drummed out of the university in dishonor for this (Or even shot, had he wounded his opponent), but as she observed the crowd and Constantius's reactions it seemed like she had severely overestimated the level of discipline expected of these students.

Then the student kept speaking and it slowly dawned on Caelia. He wasn't doing it just for the honor of the Sisterhood in an abstract sense, but specifically because of her. She'd been at the university, had spoken from time to time at Constantius' request. The student would've been there, and the way he spoke of her...

Was he besotted with her?

Such things were also foreign to her. To be certain, there had been relationships at the Schola, but like all things those had been strictly regulated and kept disciplined. And to those who exam scores would push them to become Sisters of Battle, there was even less time or desire for even that in between faith, duty, and endless training drills. Caelia herself had not been among the rare exceptions.

She had to speak, but what would she even say?

"Student." Caelia says, deciding to keep this as formal as possible. "While I appreciate your attempt to defend the honor of the Adeptas Sororitas." She says curtly. "I would suggest you follow the advice of your Arch-Priest before you suffer consequences of your ill choices."

Hopefully that would discourage him.

The student, Belial Brieger blinks slowly at Caelia's words and perhaps more importantly, her tone. "But I..." He works his jaw for a long moment, as though trying to work up the words. "I thought you'd like it, but you don't, you don't sound like it," he stammers, his shoulders slumping. "I-I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I was just trying to-You're so heroic and wonderful and I just couldn't-I thought it'd impress-I'm sorry. Sorry, Sister Caelia. Father ah, I mean, Arch-Priest C-Constantiumiusss."

Red-faced, the student fumbles with his sword for a moment, taking a few tries before he manages to sheathe it correctly. He mumbles something that sounds like 'Sorry', and 'beautiful' then begins leaving, swaying unsteadily as he scurried off, though it seems evident that at least he's not so drunk he'll lose his balance."

Constantius lets out a breath, brushing some imagined flecks of dirt from his robes. He clears his throat, pointedly. "Thank you, Sister, for your restraint. I'll speak with Brieger and ensure he is adequately disciplined for his behavior. Young men are foolish, you know how it...I suppose you might not know how it is, being from the Sisterhood," he chuckles. "Silly me. Well, in any case, we should be going. The staff will get uppity if we leave dinner sitting!" Shaking his head, the Arch-Priest begins to move again.

Caelia gently grabs Constantius by the shoulder as he begins to move forward, and guides him back into the concealment of her armored body before the set out across the open plaza and onwards to where the Arch-Priest's vehicle is waiting. They're nearly at the Arch-Priest's vehicle when the spirit of her helmet throws out a confused rune of some very minor impact. It's only after the Battle-Sister has successfully secured her principal that she realizes what had confused her auto-senses. A small little sliver of metal, buried in a flagstone a few feet over, barely visible even with her auto-senses. A needle, seemingly too small to hurt a child. Laced, as a bemused Hospitaller would later inform her, with the concentrated form of the local strain of the Schechin virus and high-grade immunosuppressants. Quite dangerous and practically unnoticeable, if it had just managed to hit its target, and a heavily armored Battle-Sister hadn't been serving as living cover.

There are no further attempts made on Constantius' life for the remaining time that Caelia remains on his security detail.

@Zeitgeist Blue @Mina @SirLagginton

The 6th Mission's departure from the slums of Dreverarch is met with rather little in the way of fanfare, save from a few scant crowds of Dreverarchian civilians willing to cheer the Order's name despite the risk of the plague. Even so minuscule a crowd is notable, given the death toll witnessed across the Little Cog district and the rest of the city at large. With reports of the cult's activity dwindling to effectively nothing, much of their leadership, arms and personnel in the Holy Port Baptismus either captured, driven off or frequently outright annihilated, it is of little surprise when word arrives. The Sanctum Imperialis that had served as the 6th Mission's headquarters and barracks for almost two months is emptied in only a handful of hours, spirited away by a constant stream of Thunderhawks and ground transports.

Her armor gleaming dully in the weak Dreverarch sun, Sister-Superior Palais meets the rest of her depleted squad with helm in hand. "Don't start smiling too soon, Sisters. There's uprisings elsewhere on the planet, so we might just get assigned another flavor of miserable swamp-town," She says, planning a hand on her hip. "Well, maybe smile a little. We left the place in better shape than we found it."

She waves a hand toward the Sanctum Imperialis, much of its structure now rebuilt and repainted and the legacy of the fire damage it had suffered now largely unnoticeable. It'll need some finishing work from the professionals, but the two months have been productive indeed.

"6th Mission, assemble," Palatine Rathitta's voice rings loud and clear out over the vox, and Palais dons her helmet.

"Squad Palais, fall in!" She calls out, the four-woman team falling in line with the rest of the scores strong Adepta Sororitas mission. Armor plates rustle and clatter as servos hum and reactors growl, the tromp of ceramite armored boots echoing through the chill morning air. As one, the Mission kneels, praying in thanks to the Emperor for the victories bestowed upon them, and asking for forgiveness for the foes yet slain and the innocents fallen in their care. And then, the squad is off, Viatorem rumbling eagerly to set off toward new travels, the Dreverarch sun shining down upon them.

At least until they get stuck in quarantine checkpoints for hours on end. Good news, nobody has Black Rot. Bad news, Palais and Ilana seem to have caught Malaisaria, a very minor insect-carried disease common on the world, with symptoms of tiredness and very minor headaches.

@Zeitgeist Blue @Mina @SirLagginton @greendoor

"It's an impressive sight," Arch-Priest Constantius notes to Sister Caelia idly as he looks down the marble stairs, wiping some juice from a local fruit from his chin with a handkerchief. "I've seen the local Commandery under Cannoness Jessira do parades on occasion, of course, and I'm sure the Cardinal will have you do one before you must leave. But it's something different seeing a force on parade and one ready for war. Different energy about it," the handsome young Ecclesiarchal officer notes, brushing some imagined dirt from the collar of his robes as below scores and scores of Sisters assemble, thunderhawks landing, Rhino-variants rolling up and Battle-Sister squads deploying, cherubim fluttering in their wake. The Cathedral looms overhead, a cliff-like edifice of marble and rockcrete and adamantium, laden beneath the weight of sprawling towers and buttresses.

"I would not wish to be on the wrong side of that," he notes dryly, pausing as a water droplet splashes off his mesh robes. The sun overhead retreats, leaving the Mission shrouded in gloom and shadow, even as the rain begins to rattle like bullets off the Adepta Sororitas' Battleplate. Dreverarch, it seems, is content to send a parting shot. "Fortunately, should be quiet."

A Cherub sweeps over the heads of Constantius and Sister Caelia, holding out a shroud to catch the falling rain and shield the two from the weather. Sabatons hammer against the stairs as Squad Palais powers up the steps, the Sister-Superior lazily waving at her subordinate. "Sister Caelia? Had a good vacation?"

Beside Sister Caelia, the Arch-Priest Constantius smiles beatifically. The man appears strikingly young, perhaps no older than Caelia, with no apparent signs of rejuvenat or anti-aging treatment. He is classically handsome with a strong jaw, dark eyes, and high cheekbones that accentuate his nut-brown skin. His golden hair shines like woven gold as he looks the squad over. He wears the typical shield robes and miter hat, adorned with symbols of the Priesthood, with a small shield on one shoulder bearing some familial coat of arms. Heavy iron chains bind a holy book at his side, and a Rosarius shines around his neck, though whether it is enhanced with a conversion field is impossible to tell.

He steps toward the Sister-Superior, raising a hand."Ah, Sister-Superior Palais. I wanted to..." He pauses, glancing down at his proferred hand, then back at Palais, her power armor's reactor rumbling with particular violence. He lowers his hand. "I wanted to thank you for the security provided by Battle-Sister Caelia. It is a pleasure to meet the rest of Squad Palais as well, but I should probably leave you to your reunion. Thank you all for your hard work, and Emperor be praised for all the heretics you've put to the sword and lives you've saved."

He makes his way off, the cherubim following along and leaving Sister Caelia to the mercy of the brewing rainstorm. As though apologetic, one of the Mission's own armorium cherub's sweeps by Squad Palais, angelic wings humming as it offers the Sororitas offerings of bolter ammo magazines. Palais raises a hand in equal parts thanks and refusal.

Then she turns, motioning at the squad to rally around, even as she cocks her head to listen to the vox. "Alright Sisters, form in. Just got word from the Legatine that we'll be helping patrol the main floor while Rathitta meets with the Cardinal. Emperor willing, she might just talk us out of a parade. Should be nice and casual, but do keep alert. Wasn't that long ago heretics were actually trying to kill people."

greendoor · Jan 30, 2021

Shephard said:
The student, Belial Brieger blinks slowly at Caelia's words and perhaps more importantly, her tone. "But I..." He works his jaw for a long moment, as though trying to work up the words. "I thought you'd like it, but you don't, you don't sound like it," he stammers, his shoulders slumping. "I-I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I was just trying to-You're so heroic and wonderful and I just couldn't-I thought it'd impress-I'm sorry. Sorry, Sister Caelia. Father ah, I mean, Arch-Priest C-Constantiumiusss."

Red-faced, the student fumbles with his sword for a moment, taking a few tries before he manages to sheathe it correctly. He mumbles something that sounds like 'Sorry', and 'beautiful' then begins leaving, swaying unsteadily as he scurried off, though it seems evident that at least he's not so drunk he'll lose his balance."

Constantius lets out a breath, brushing some imagined flecks of dirt from his robes. He clears his throat, pointedly. "Thank you, Sister, for your restraint. I'll speak with Brieger and ensure he is adequately disciplined for his behavior. Young men are foolish, you know how it...I suppose you might not know how it is, being from the Sisterhood," he chuckles. "Silly me. Well, in any case, we should be going. The staff will get uppity if we leave dinner sitting!" Shaking his head, the Arch-Priest begins to move again.

Caelia didn't watch him go. She was glad that situation was over.

"Such foolishness is tempered by Discipline." She says, simply. What else was there?

Shephard said:
Caelia gently grabs Constantius by the shoulder as he begins to move forward, and guides him back into the concealment of her armored body before the set out across the open plaza and onwards to where the Arch-Priest's vehicle is waiting. They're nearly at the Arch-Priest's vehicle when the spirit of her helmet throws out a confused rune of some very minor impact. It's only after the Battle-Sister has successfully secured her principal that she realizes what had confused her auto-senses. A small little sliver of metal, buried in a flagstone a few feet over, barely visible even with her auto-senses. A needle, seemingly too small to hurt a child. Laced, as a bemused Hospitaller would later inform her, with the concentrated form of the local strain of the Schechin virus and high-grade immunosuppressants. Quite dangerous and practically unnoticeable, if it had just managed to hit its target, and a heavily armored Battle-Sister hadn't been serving as living cover.

There are no further attempts made on Constantius' life for the remaining time that Caelia remains on his security detail.

Plink

Caelia hardly noticed the impact, but she did see the warning rune. Ballistic impact, barely enough to register on the Armor's autosenses.

There was no sense ignoring it though. She oriented herself to the angle of impact, hand drawing her Boltgun. "Possible Assassin, your Eminence. Get in the car." She voiced.

Nothing. No coughs of suppressed guns or dart casters, no cult assassin throwing knives. Had the Spirit simply been mistaken?

She finally spotted it after a moment, just before she would've given up and gotten in the Autocarriage.

A small sliver of metal, a few feet from her armored boot.

Making sure to cover the Priest with her body, she picked up the small bit of metal. A needle, too small to hurt even the weakest unarmored human.

Some form of poison?

She scanned again for the Sniper, and then replaced the Needle in a small compartment at her belt.

She would need to be vigilant. Who could tell when they'd try something again?

Shephard said:
"It's an impressive sight," Arch-Priest Constantius notes to Sister Caelia idly as he looks down the marble stairs, wiping some juice from a local fruit from his chin with a handkerchief. "I've seen the local Commandery under Cannoness Jessira do parades on occasion, of course. But its something different seeing a force on parade and one ready for war. Different energy about it," the handsome young Ecclesiarchal officer notes, brushing some imagined dirt from the collar of his robes as below scores and scores of Sisters assemble, thunderhawks landing, Rhino-variants rolling up and Battle-Sister squads deploying, cherubim fluttering in their wake. All around the Cathedral, both

"I would not wish to be on the wrong side of that," he notes dryly, pausing as a water droplet splashes off his mesh robes. The sun overhead retreats, leaving the Mission shrouded in gloom and shadow, even as the rain begins to rattle like bullets off the Adepta Sororitas' Battleplate. Dreverarch, it seems, is content to send a parting shot.

A few days later, and Caelia finds herself almost wishing they had. It would've alleviated the boredom.

"Then you are a wise man, your Eminence." Caelia comments. She was very glad for her helmet as Dreverarch did it's best to bombard them. She had to think anyone who was going without a helmet must be drowning in their Gorgets soon.

Shephard said:
A Cherub sweeps over the heads of Constantius and Sister Caelia, holding out a shroud to catch the falling rain and shield the two from the weather. Sabatons hammer against the stairs as Squad Palais powers up the steps, the Sister-Superior lazily waving at her subordinate. "Caelia? Had a good vacation?"

"Hardly exciting, but pleasant enough." Caelia comments. She relaxed some, but not much. A final assassination attempt was unlikely in the extreme now, but it'd be emberassing in the extreme to miss one right in front of all her sisters. "I shan't complain for the chance to have protected his Eminence from all those who might've harmed him."

She kept the irony out of her voice. Mostly because the last assassination attempt might've actually succeeded, if what the Hospitalier had said was true.

Shephard said:
Constantius raises a hand, smiling beatifically. "Ah, Sister-Superior Palais. I wanted to..." He pauses, glancing down at his proferred hand, then back at Palais, her power armor's reactor rumbling with particular violence. He lowers his hand. "I wanted to thank you for the security provided by Battle-Sister Caelia. A pleasure to meet the rest of Squad Palais as well, but I should probably leave you to your reunion.[/hr]

"I am glad to have served well, your Eminence." She nodded to the Priest, then waited as he said his goodbyes and left. A pleasant diversion, but she was glad to be back.

The rest of the squad's armor was touched up and newly repaired. Probably means they weren't so lucky as to have just got out of a fireight

"Sisters." She said simply. "What have you been doing? More exciting than standing guard at university functions every week I pray?"

SirLagginton · Feb 2, 2021

Shephard said:
The 6th Mission's departure from the slums of Dreverarch is met with rather little in the way of fanfare, save from a few scant crowds of Dreverarchian civilians willing to cheer the Order's name despite the risk of the plague. Even so minuscule a crowd is notable, given the death toll witnessed across the Little Cog district and the rest of the city at large. With reports of the cult's activity dwindling to effectively nothing, much of their leadership, arms and personnel in the Holy Port Baptismus either captured, driven off or frequently outright annihilated, it is of little surprise when word arrives. The Sanctum Imperialis that had served as the 6th Mission's headquarters and barracks for almost two months is emptied in only a handful of hours, spirited away by a constant stream of Thunderhawks and ground transports.

Her armor gleaming dully in the weak Dreverarch sun, Sister-Superior Palais meets the rest of her depleted squad with helm in hand. "Don't start smiling too soon, Sisters. There's uprisings elsewhere on the planet, so we might just get assigned another flavor of miserable swamp-town," She says, planning a hand on her hip. "Well, maybe smile a little. We left the place in better shape than we found it."

"I would say I would miss it," Ilana muttered, her head feeling like it had been stuffed to the brim with a cloudy helping of gauze. "But I was taught that it was sinful to lie." Yet she as she sighed a small grin tugged at the corner of her mouth. "Yet all we ever ask of the Emperor is the strength to deny the designs of the Archenemy, so by that measure I must admit our time was well-spent. I can only hope our next destination would lack more insects attempting to make our lives a misery, even if we find ourselves remaining on the planet."

greendoor said:
"I am glad to have served well, your Eminence." She nodded to the Priest, then waited as he said his goodbyes and left. A pleasant diversion, but she was glad to be back.

The rest of the squad's armor was touched up and newly repaired. Probably means they weren't so lucky as to have just got out of a fireight

"Sisters." She said simply. "What have you been doing? More exciting than standing guard at university functions every week I pray?"

"Although volunteering in the kitchens seldom brings opportunity for much excitement, it is humble and fulfilling work." Ilana paused, a chuckle gracing her lips. "I will say however that news of your scrumball exploits had reached even our humble abode."

Zeitgeist Blue · Feb 2, 2021

Shephard said:
Father Tibim stares down at his clasped hands, sighing. "I have performed the rites and said the words. A haunted apartment, a mother who wouldn't accept that her son was simply ill, the body of a serial killer to ensure his spirit did not return. Perhaps there may have even been a ghost or some petty unclean spirit to cast out," he says, quietly. "Never anything such as this. Never anything so horrid as this."

His head tilts upward, toward the silver moon creeping through the smog-choked clouds above. Toward the abhumans and impoverished, waiting anxiously in the shadows. "The poor, the wretched, and the impure. These are my flock. My lowly flock. But I have a duty to serve them to the utmost. And I have a duty to He upon the Throne to safeguard His holy places, no matter how grand or how small. The risks to myself aren't of relevance." His eyes, tired and shadowed, turn toward Sister Eriko. "Thank you for your assistance today, Sister. You should further your compliments to my superiors. Perhaps if you seem earnest enough, they won't even defrock me."

He rises to his feet, and folds his hand into the sign of the Aquila. "I have a body to return to their family. Good night, Sister. You do your Order proud."

"Defrock you? Surely, your superiors don't consider your participation in such a bitter light?" Eriko asks before considering more. The priest's role in the riots, even if he was largely peaceful, could leave him on tenuous grounds, especially if he had such a poor reputation to begin with. Yes, she could imagine them doing so. It was an unfortunate thought as she did not find much in the priest to complain about.

"It does not matter." Eriko shakes her head. "I will write to them my compliments about the purifying and extol your virtues. That sounds sufficient to allay their misgivings."

Then Eriko returns the sign of the Aquila, sliding her arms into position. "Farewell. May your night be peaceful and unbothersome, Father, and all your nights after. I would consider that a blessing from the Saints."

SirLagginton said:
"I would say I would miss it," Ilana muttered, her head feeling like it had been stuffed to the brim with a cloudy helping of gauze. "But I was taught that it was sinful to lie." Yet she as she sighed a small grin tugged at the corner of her mouth. "Yet all we ever ask of the Emperor is the strength to deny the designs of the Archenemy, so by that measure I must admit our time was well-spent. I can only hope our next destination would lack more insects attempting to make our lives a misery, even if we find ourselves remaining on the planet."

"Less insects would be a major improvement. I concur," Eriko says, remembering the swarm of bugs from the Enforcer's post weeks ago. "What I would not do for a proper climate. Rolling meadows and pleasant blue skies, miles of coastline and crystalline seas. Not this..." She flicks a hand upward. "Days of rain punctuated by a feeble Sun. I say heretics choose the most wearying of vistas to scurry away to."

Shephard said:
@Zeitgeist Blue @Mina @SirLagginton @greendoor

"It's an impressive sight," Arch-Priest Constantius notes to Sister Caelia idly as he looks down the marble stairs, wiping some juice from a local fruit from his chin with a handkerchief. "I've seen the local Commandery under Cannoness Jessira do parades on occasion, of course. But its something different seeing a force on parade and one ready for war. Different energy about it," the handsome young Ecclesiarchal officer notes, brushing some imagined dirt from the collar of his robes as below scores and scores of Sisters assemble, thunderhawks landing, Rhino-variants rolling up and Battle-Sister squads deploying, cherubim fluttering in their wake. All around the Cathedral, both

"I would not wish to be on the wrong side of that," he notes dryly, pausing as a water droplet splashes off his mesh robes. The sun overhead retreats, leaving the Mission shrouded in gloom and shadow, even as the rain begins to rattle like bullets off the Adepta Sororitas' Battleplate. Dreverarch, it seems, is content to send a parting shot.

A Cherub sweeps over the heads of Constantius and Sister Caelia, holding out a shroud to catch the falling rain and shield the two from the weather. Sabatons hammer against the stairs as Squad Palais powers up the steps, the Sister-Superior lazily waving at her subordinate. "Caelia? Had a good vacation?"

Constantius raises a hand, smiling beatifically. "Ah, Sister-Superior Palais. I wanted to..." He pauses, glancing down at his proferred hand, then back at Palais, her power armor's reactor rumbling with particular violence. He lowers his hand. "I wanted to thank you for the security provided by Battle-Sister Caelia. A pleasure to meet the rest of Squad Palais as well, but I should probably leave you to your reunion.

Eriko inclines her head at the offhand mention of Palais' squadmembers, then watches as the Constantius leaves and with him, the Cherub sheltering them all from the rain. The rain begins to patter off their armour, but it would be poor make indeed if Dreverarch's rains could seep through the plates. Inside, Eriko was warm and dry, and she turned back towards her Sisters.

greendoor said:
"I am glad to have served well, your Eminence." She nodded to the Priest, then waited as he said his goodbyes and left. A pleasant diversion, but she was glad to be back.

The rest of the squad's armor was touched up and newly repaired. Probably means they weren't so lucky as to have just got out of a fireight

"Sisters." She said simply. "What have you been doing? More exciting than standing guard at university functions every week I pray?"

SirLagginton said:
"Although volunteering in the kitchens seldom brings opportunity for much excitement, it is humble and fulfilling work." Ilana paused, a chuckle gracing her lips. "I will say however that news of your scrumball exploits had reached even our humble abode."

"I would not go so far to call them exploits but, yes, a game to work up a good sweat." Eriko drawls as she checks for scuff marks on her armored fingers. "I also recall the duo -- Katia and Gwynais -- you sent with your message, or so I've heard. Caelia was quite the player, but I don't think I've disappointed either."

She looks up from her inspection, then around at the campus. "No, not really anything exciting. More of the same - practice, pray, chores. Though I did come upon the Father Tibim once. Had to purify a local temple from desecration and perhaps that night could be called "exciting" and equal parts "grueling", moreso than standing guard against overly bored students perhaps."

Faith and Fire

Still in Statis

Currently Made of Metal

(Verified Door)

Shadow Cabal Caerbannog Bun-Bun

Still in Statis

Currently Made of Metal

(Verified Door)

Still in Statis

Currently Made of Metal

Shadow Cabal Caerbannog Bun-Bun

(Verified Door)

Still in Statis

Currently Made of Metal

(Verified Door)

Still in Statis

Currently Made of Metal

(Verified Door)

Still in Statis

(Verified Door)

Currently Made of Metal

Still in Statis

(Verified Door)

Shadow Cabal Caerbannog Bun-Bun

Currently Made of Metal