Yolanda stood in the bathroom and put upon her mask. Unlike her sisters, the mask was not one of false tissue or false hair or false clothing. It involved concealing no arms, nor dampening psionic powers. It was a mask that many a Imperial noble had needed to wear. It was why she had always loved the Sisterhood. It was why her mother, who had had the gift...the curse...of psychic powers, had joined and embraced the kiss. It was why she had been born.
Commoners looked up, and in their misery and their privation, they saw vast, glittering boot.
They didn't know about the poison sniffers. The hypno-indoctrinated assassins, concealed among people you thought you could love or trust. They didn't know about the constant wheeling around
power - just a bit more control, a bit more security, a bit more wealth, a bit more of everything. Even within the heights of the Imperium, the hatred and the evil that made the whole rotting thing was turned inwards. The gilt was over blood, and the diamonds were bought with souls.
The mask she would have to wear, no matter what, was what she hated.
Yolanda knew that her fellow Sisters sometimes thought she was a little silly, because she did like the pomp. She liked the fine wines. She liked the parties.
But they all knew how deep, and how solid her desire to break chains were - even if they were chains of gold, rather than rusted iron.
She brushed her make up along her cheeks and settled in the mask.
Eyes empty.
Big smile.
Pure delight.
Then, with her dress frilling around her hips, she turned and sauntered out into the ballroom that had been established around the brutalized, burned, bleeding body of the woman she loved as a sister, to break bread with those that delighted in her pain. It had taken every bit of her quiet negotiations to get the prize of running the second of the three parties for Xandra's capture. For her part, the Interrogator was at least remaining distant - a dark figure, a mysterious figure, watching things from the shadows. But her creatures, her retainers and her agents, were in every party, keeping notes and watching intently. The Deathwatch had been brought in, and to her surprise...so had the Marines Malevolent. The bruting, yellow clad warriors loomed in the corner of the room and watched everything like vultures, even as one of the Deathwatch warriors spoke with a jovial carelessness to some nobility.
"No, it was quite easy, Giaus had her distracted..."
Yolanda repressed her immediate reaction with the ease of long effort. She walked, instead, to Xandra. She had been branded along her cheek, and her arms were lashed to the second of the three devices that they had arranged for the proper triumph. In the first party, she had been nailed to the Throne - one of the more old fashioned forms of execution, as it simply took too long for most people to appreciate on Thedias. In the second, her bleeding hands had been bound and lashed to the wheel, her body stretched on it, her face a grimace of discomfort.
"You know I can't feel anything beneath my hips, right?" she asked, her voice venom as she glared at Yolanda.
Yolanda looked at her.
In her mind, she rushed forward, she undid the latches, she let her drop down, she turned and her power reached out, snakes of energy flowing through eyes and ears. The souls would be ripped from each of the laughing throats surrounding her - these
parasites would...Xandra gave her a look. Somehow, despite being bound and burned and broken, she still managed to be the mature one.
Yolanda scowled and spat on her, eliciting a jeering call from the other nobles. She turned back and saw the Deathwatch warrior who had stuck her love like a pinned gemcrawler. He was giving her a warm look. "Always good to see a member of the nobility brave enough to look evil in the eye. Hatoshi." He offered his large, black gauntlet to her. She took the finger with one hand, curtsying politely.
"Yolanda Puriee, of House Puriee," she said, nodding. "It was an honor to have so many members of his majesty's divine warriors in our party. I was not aware that space marines attended social gatherings."
"It depends on the space marine and what they seek," Hatoshi said, grinning down at her. Yolanda blinked. She had expected to see many things on the face of a warrior of the Imperium. Flirtatious charm was not one of them. She opened her mouth, then gambled.
"And what is it you seek, Honorable Hatoshi?" she asked.
"Well, my needs are simple. Good wine. The wind of passage in my hair - that is somewhat hard to attain on this world. Failing that, something sweet and beautiful to ride," he said. Then, eyes sparkling. "Horses. Motorcycles."
"I am a married woman!" Yolanda gasped, and so many years of training went into that particular gasp. She had honed it on a battlefield as cut-throat as any hive world - the stakes all the more desperate for how utterly, utterly banal they were. Every noble on Thedias knew that for all that they stood ankle high, there was still an infinity to drop below. They clung, like men at the lip of a pit, with fingernails and blood alike. The mutant warrior plucked from some barbarous tribe and turned into a killing machine? He had not a prayer in the world.
"And where is your husband, so I might congratulate him?" Hatoshi grinned exactly as she wanted him to.
Yolanda sighed. "He...has...other tasks." She looked away. "I...I must go for a moment, I believe that my needs as a hostess are needed."
She started off, her mind whirling. If her snare was caught...then she had an opening there. The only problem was that while having a space marine on a string was as dangerous to her as it was to the marine. But...there were only three Deathwatch marines - maybe twelve Marines Malevolent. She frowned intently, as she came to Louisa Xav, who was in quiet, fan-concealed conversation with two minor members of House Xav.
"Louisa, darling!" Yolanda said. "I'm so glad that you're here - but i have to know...is it true?"
"Well, first, let me congratulate you - so brave, you spat in her face?" Louisa asked, and the delight in her eyes filled Yolanda with the image of her head twisting around in a vice of telekinetic force. She pushed the thought down - Louisa was...not entirely at fault. She had been raised in the toxic stew as Yolanda narrowly avoided and other than her blind spots, she was a fine woman. And so, Yolanda just blushed and looked aside, shaking her head.
"I-I...it was the least I could do..." she whispered, then softly. "But is it true? That they're going to simply burn her in the third party?"
"It is the traditional third station," Louisa said, biting her lower lip. "But it does feel a bit wrong. We may not be the oldest world, but we do have our own traditions."
"I was thinking the exact same!" Yolanda said, smiling. "Surely, we can bring about a better end for her, yes?"
"We...hmm." Louisa considered. "We do only have a few hours..."
"I may have taken some liberties," Yolanda said, her eyes sparkling. "I was hoping to find you and...well, I hired some experts from the lower levels." She grinned. "They have the exact right kind of tank - one that keeps the pressure from ramping too quickly."
"Oh, you are just the finest of us, Yolanda!" Louisa said, patting Yolanda on the shoulder. Then, the music changed. "Ah, the time has come for the dance to the symphony."
"...y-yes..." Yolanda said.
The music began.
And the wheel turned. Xandra, despite her efforts, screamed - and the musicians caught the music and worked it into the sprightly tune - uplifting and designed to edify and educate in equal measures. "By the Emperor, I think one of those dashing Deathwatch demigods wants a dance!" One of the Xav girls said and Yolanda turned. She saw that Hatoshi was grinning at her, like a hunter. She looked aside, trying to act as if she was offended at his temerity - in such a way to lead him on, like a false tarp over a pit trap. And...in doing so, she saw some of the nobles.
Some Xavs.
Some Marks.
Some Pierres.
They were among the young and the old, male and female. In and among the crowd, they tried to hide it. They tried to wear mask. But the anguish on their faces, their disgust, their turning away. One, a girl, hurried away, her face green as Xandra's screams were worked into a sprightly violetta piece, her hand over her mouth.
Seeing them made Yolanda's hand tighten.
For them.
***
To Yolanda's supreme and complete irritation, Hatoshi proved that when he decided to do something, he used every bit of skill he had picked up over his several centuries of life and experience. The minor benefit of making her acting significantly easier was vastly outweighed by the feeling of betrayal rushing through her as her body shuddered in a fierce, sharp orgasm as she clung to his broad, broad shoulders, nose bumping against one of the sockets that made up his black carapace. She gasped against his scarred shoulder as a hand large enough to encompass both of her hips and still have room to almost reach her groin. His skin was rough and his movements were precisely controlled - as precisely controlled as the battlefield.
And of course, he was entirely proportional.
"I do always enjoy serving the nobility of the Imperium," Hatoshi said, his voice amused as Yolanda shuddered against him. "Husbands neglecting vital duties, for example, I like seeing to those."
Yolanda nodded, and tried to sound incoherent and blissful. It was, again...irritatingly easy. But one thing about a human in a situation like this? Walls dropped. And Yolanda's gift seeped in, plucking out a thought here, an image there. She bit down on his shoulder to muffle a cry of pleasure...and of joy. Hatoshi and his comrade, Olrax -
Olrax, the bastard who ate Kemet's arm, the bastard - had had a row. He was inside of Yolanda now not merely to enjoy the pleasure of her flesh. He was also here to spite the commander he disdained, to flaunt how he did not need to follow his orders outside of combat.
He was here. And that meant Olrax and Gaius had no one to cover them.
Yolanda gave Hatoshi the most beatific grin. And the urge grew in her to reach in deep - and to boil his brain from the inside out.
"Ahhhh..." he sighed - and his warmth flooded her as her psychic fingers touched a deep, deep core of something Hatoshi worked so very hard to ignore. And in the backwash of pleasure, in the momentary bliss of joining, that core flooded into his mind. A glacial, vast sadness. A shame that burned her to her core. The shame, right now, had Xandra's face.
Maybe it was caution. After all, how to hide such a body?
Maybe it was fear. What if she failed in her strike?
Maybe...
Maybe it was a human connection, between two people who weren't.
Yolanda simply gasped in his ear, her hair stringy and sweaty. "Ah. Ah. Ah. Does it ruin this...ah...to know my husband enjoys being cucked?"
"What!?"
***
Xandra hissed as the interrogator's toadies worked behind her. The sparking flash of connection ports being drilled into her back could only be felt faintly. She dangled from her wrists, her body thrumming with stims to keep her conscious and focused, while blood dripped from her lip and her nose, her eyes looking forward, hazed by pain and rage. Sitting across from her, the interrogator was tapping her foot.
The interrogator was in shadow, her face concealed. Her mind was a vast, glittering gemstone, a shielded faceted thing that projected pure security, pure confidence.
"This is going to be illustrative," the interrogator said, her voice a quiet purr. "You've said you are the only magus - if that is the case, your cult may be on the run. It may be about to fall apart. But I don't know if that's true."
"Funny that...ah..." Xandra gasped as the connection snapped on and the bridge of her broken spine tingled to life. She felt her toes coming to life, burning and spiking like needles were being jammed in. next to actual torture, the feeling of nerve endings coming to life again was almost comedic. She clenched her teeth. "Is that why you're...going native?"
"The local tradition is more eye-catching. And I hope to see those that might witness it," the interrogator said, her voice soft as the toadies dragged Xandra by the rack that kept her standing to the circular glass pod - elegantly designed, with bass reliefs on the metal cap hanging overhead, each showing a different heretic who had died famously, culminating in Horus himself mid obliteration. Xandra was shoved into the glass tube and the cap was sealed into place. The whole airship shuddered and the interrogator stepped from the darkness. She was...beautiful. Redheaded, purple eyed, with skin as pale and perfect as porcelain. Her eyes and Xandra's met.
"The fault is in your stars, little xeno-tainted witchling," the Interrogator said, brushing her fingers along the glass. "You were born for this moment. Crafted by an abominable intelligence, merely to die." She frowned. "I hope...that in your death, you find redemption for the billions of lives you nearly snuffed out."
Xandra smirked. Her knees locked as she pressed against the glass.
Her voice was husky.
"Some day...maybe not today...maybe not tomorrow...me...or someone like me...is going to pull you into silken sheets and slide an ovipositor down your throat. And as you cum from the greatest Kiss you've ever felt, you will realize every lie you serve, every fascist fakery you parrot, every
stupid piece of bullshit you've dropped...and you will beg for forgiveness." She smirked. "And we will grant it. And I will finger-fuck you into oblivion."
The interrogator did not blush. Instead, she simply twitched her fingers. "Drop her."
The glass pod dropped with a crunch - falling, falling, falling, then coming taut. Xandra smashed against the glass, stumbled back, then laid on her ass, gasping as her tattered, ruined outfit clung to her body. She planted her palms to the glass, and looked around wildly at the thick blue clouds that swirled around her tomb. The capstone hissed - and some of the atmosphere began to leak in. The stinging pressure of it burned along her skin and she closed her eyes, clenching her teeth against the pain that would ramp up and up and up. Then darkness fell - the tank was flying through clouds.
Whump!
The impact jarred Xandra. Her eyes snapped open - and she saw a wingsuited, goggle clad, masked figure. Two arms clung to the cap, two legs were planted against glass...and a third arm held a lascutter, which sliced into the glass tube. Her upper right hand reached down, slapping one of the pads she used to cling to the glass onto the cap, then pulled out. "To me!" She shouted and Xandra hissed, then threw her arms around the belly of the figure. SHe swung out, and cling - and focused. Hard. A telekinetic shield snapped to life around her body - and the agony of the droplets of acid that burned along her, the droplets that had hit her before she had thrown up the shield forced a shriek from her. The wing suited figure clung on with one arm, two feet - her third arm slotted the glass back in, then sprayed sealent over it. Then she kicked off - turned, and snapped her wingsuit arms wide.
Xandra clung.
And they dove.
Dove.
Dove into freedom.
***
Olrax frowned as he watched the clouds from the deck of the airship. "S-sir, are you sure you should put such weight there?" A female voice called from behind him. "It's not very stable."
Olrax ignored her. In fact, he leaned further on the railing, trying to watch the shrouded tank, wanting to see the xenos witch die. Her screams were echoing through the vox mounted on the airship platform, while impeller fields hummed and hummed and hummed, keeping the atmosphere at bay. It was pure expense - demonstrating the raw wealth of the nobles rather than simply having a cheap adamant glass enclosure.
"Sir!" That damn female was whining at him again. Olrax leaned more.
And felt the material he leaned on give way.
With more irritation than fear, he started to drop into the openness, falling into the clouds. The Interrogator's voxlink snapped on. "Olrax! What are you doing!?"
"The damn railing gave way," he said, in irritation. "My armor will absorb the kinetic impact - I will simply make for a nearby habitat. I simply need to-"
His throat froze. His mind was trying to speak, but he couldn't. Instead, his arms started to move, jerkily, like they had their own will.
"How...embarrassing," the interrogator said. "...Olrax?"
He tried to speak. To scream. But the feeling of fierce hatred burned in his head. He felt ice-claws along his wrists, but they were inside his muscles. His own nerves were betraying him. They reached up and took hold of his helmet, then yanked it off - the interrogator's voice vanishing in a confused doppler whistle as the helmet was yanked away. Acid beaded along his toughened skin, stinging at first, then burning. He tried to scream, but instead his body twisted, convulsed, as if he was trying to assume the worst position to land possible. He tried to do anything.
How is this for torment, corpse-worshiper? A venemous voice hissed inside his mind. Female.
That female.
In a flash, Olrax realized where he had seen her before. He had heard her voice, whispering to a person there, advising a servant there. She had been a subtle but inevitable part of every part of the celebrations - which had all lead to the xenos witch being precisely where no one had eyes on her.
As acid stole his vision, Olrax saw clearly.
He screamed - not in fear, for he knew no fear.
He screamed in pure, petulant fury.
And then he hit the ground and laid there, struggling to move, to twitch a muscle, as the acid worked in. And in. And in.
His suit was never found.
---
With zero might and weakened Sovereignty (morale loss due to both Olrax's unliked command and their failure on the field of battle) the Deathwatch is weak...but still present on the planet. Do you have any more actions to take this month? As a note, the Interrogator does still know where you are until you use Influence Interrogator to Lose Trail to fix that.
[ ] Attack BLANK (Might + Treasure VS Might + Territory)
[ ] Being Informed (Influence + Soverignty vs Diff 1)
[ ] Spying on BLANK (Influence + Treasury vs Influence + Territory)
[ ] Influence BLANK to do BLANK (Influence + Treasury vs Influence + Territory)
[ ] Increase your Sovereignty (Territory + Treasure vs Diff [Current Sovereignty])
[ ] Police BLANK (Might + Sovereignty vs Influence + Might)
[ ] Rise in Stature (Sovereignty + Treasure vs Diff [Current Influence]
[ ] Train and Levy Troops (Sovereignty + Territory vs Diff [Current Might]
[ ] Unconventional Warfare (write plan in)
[ ] Wait and Recover
THE SISTERHOOD OF THE LEVITHAN
(Cycle 1, Month 2 - the Month of Scampering)
MIGHT: 2(0) | TREASURE: 5(4) | INFLUENCE: 4(3) | TERRITORY: 1(0) | SOVEREIGNTY: 4(3)
