Idyll Heresies [IC]

[Saldre]

Idyll Foreboding

Littered with filth and debris, Under-hive streets are often teeming with drudging masses that mindlessly go about their business. These crowds, like the toxic sewage only a few levels beneath, toss and turn as they hurriedly attempt to force their way to their respective homes. As you sway back and forth amidst the masses, a man more forceful then the others nudges your shoulder. Without as much as an apology, he quickly vanishes into the multitude of people. Only when he is gone do you notice the crumbled letter he’s left in your hand and the Inquisition’s mark that seals it.

As you open the letter, you realize what this means: it is time to complete your end of the bargain.

It reads:

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Agents of the Throne,

As you are well aware, you have once been selected, amongst others, to serve a greater purpose. The time to put your skills and expertise to the Inquisition’s use has now come.

Over the last year, a new heresy has been moving between the worlds: the drug called Idyll. Though much effort has been made to suppress this substance, it continues to find its way into heretics' hands. A recent interception of a large quantity of the Xenos derived narcotic has led to news that a smaller shipment may already be on Malfi.

In fact, we have learned that this material has been delivered to one Prim Venkateswaran, a scum supplier who dwells in the Under-hive. This substance must be destroyed before it leads to irreparable damages.

Your cell, composed of six members and lead by Arbitrator Quint, has been specifically activated to deal with this problem.

First, you will rendezvous immediately with the Arbitrator at the currently known lair of this malefactor, the address of which is provided at the other side of this letter. He will lead the group into Prim’s hide-out where you will document the scum’s holdings and then destroy any and all traces of the Idyll.

Reports indicate it to be 100 kilograms, but any amount no matter how small is too much to ignore. Should you also learn the identity of those who might seek out such a foul substance, it would behoove you to act as judge, Jury and executioners.

Omen Yens,

[The name is signed over an emblem depicting a snake devouring its own tail: the Ouroboros]

Recognizing the emblem as the mark of the mysterious man to whom you owe your services, you turn the letter around and make a mental note of the address provided: you notice it is but a few housing blocks away.

A few minutes later, you reach your destination. The streets are considerably quieter, save for a few people here and there lounging on the sides of the side-walks, as the evening settles and nightfall quickly approaches; it is around 7:00 O’clock.

You find yourself looking upon a single story house, centered in an unruly part of the sector, surrounded by dark alleyways and shadowy corners. It has obviously been refurbished to suit Prim’s needs: three windows are spread out around the house but they are reinforced with bolted hull plates salvaged from shipyard scraps and auto-car junkyards. A sturdy blast door, no doubt from the same origins, covers the main entrance. A Pict recorder positioned overheard looks over the entrance.

Your surroundings are currently empty, but for how long? You cannot tell. Sooner than later, they will fill again as the night-shift crews head to their stations, taking away your one chance at privacy and inviting with them all of the complications that a street crowded with witnesses can bring.

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[OOC: So it begins: Seconds after you arrive, you find the rest of the cell nearby. Now that you have gathered, feel free to group huddle and introduce yourselves, should you choose to do so :P. Roll Initiative along with your first post please, and discuss both your situation and your plan(s). Keep in mind the clock is always ticking :P. Enjoy, and Welcome Aboard: Idyll Heresies....]

[Wiz]

Xanthia, carrying a long package her father had entrusted her to store in a secret locker, frowned as she read the note. She sighed, "Father always said, the Xanadu family keeps to the word of their bargains." Fortunately, the storehouse was nearby, and she had opened an account for herself to keep a private locker there, separate from the family locker. In it was the equipment she'd been stowing away over the past year for just this event. She went to the storehouse and donned her gear, then threw her robes over it, concealing most of what she was wearing from all but the sharpest eyes. She looked at the package thoughtfully. She'd actually meant to store it, as her father instructed, but it might be better to have it with her if things got bad. True, she didn't know how to use the fecking thing, but still, it was damned impressive. She slung the sword over her back, but kept the hilt wrapped up. Not many could identify it easily, but it was far too distinctive and easily remembered.

Stepping out of the deliberately shabby-looking storage company which concealed very expensive, high-security lockers, she began to make her way down the filthy street. A gravelly voice spoke behind her, its threatening tone punctuated by the rake of a shotgun shell being chambered. "Hold there, girly. Ah'v been wondrin' what sort of gelt is kept in that bank. Ah'd be obliged if you show me what you withdrew." Xanthia turned slowly, her right hand pulling back her hood while her left strayed under her robe. She smiled her most disarming smile, using her comely features, and the arresting sight of her bright green eyes. The scum smiled back, showing an unpleasant array of rotting teeth. "Ah think Ah'm gonna have to search you, ya know. Back inta tha' alley there." Xanthia's smile grew wider and less pleasant as another sound, a low whine came from her left hand. The scum looked down to see a Trinity Consecrator pointed at his crotch, his private parts which had been swelling - immediately wilted under the bright red dot of the laser sight - projected by the hand cannon. The young woman flicked a switch and a clip rotated into position, chambering a round. "I think you should be the one to back into the alley, right now... oh, and drop the shotgun while you're at it."

A few minutes later, the young Scrivener, dressed in rather ordinary adminstratum robes arrived at the address on the note, she is wary and ready for trouble.

[Bowerbird]

Hack makes his way expediently to the rendezvous point, the crowd slowing him little as his intimidating size caused all but the most ignorant and unobservant pedestrians to give him a wide berth. Upon arriving at his destination he stops and looks around. H ewaits until the crowds die down, leaving a small group of people in the general area, he chooses someone who could possibly be one of his fellow draftees and looms up behind them, "You here for the job?"
Upon turning around they see an enormous man in the rust-red robes of the Adeptus Mechanicus, the robes obscuring any feature save for the primitive looking grill and respirator combo that appears to compose the lower half of the man's face, light visible from within the grill when he speaks.

[Wiz]

The figure turns... it is a young woman with dark hair and brilliant green eyes that can't possibly be natural. She is wearing the robes of a scrivener, with some kind of dark body suit underneath. Strapped across her back is a sheathed sword with it's hilt wrapped up. She frowns, looking the Adeptus Mechanus up and down, "I'm here to repay a debt... so I suppose it might be looked on as a job."

[AssassinKing]

After Garviel gets his equipment, Having both his rifles wrapped up in guilli camoflage attached to a duffel bag that has other equipment and ammo in it. grenades, throwing knives under his cloak, and his sword on a belt holster. He starts looking for the rendevous point. Trying to avoid other people so they can't pick pocket. He is holding onto a knife and hiding it under his cloak. Trying sneak past hive workers and looking for other members of the group.

[Bowerbird]

"Very well", the huge Tech-Priest says in a deep artificial voice, "I assume you are waiting for this Quint, yes?" he leans on his staff and looks around for anyone else standing out, not doing a particularly good job of looking inconspicuous, his voluminous robes hiding any obvious sign of weaponry beyond the staff and a sword on his back.

[Chucho108]

Cipher

Cipher walks in a bubble, the crowd giving this tall, if slight, man plenty of room. If one were to ask the crowd why, they would be unable to give a solid reason as to why they were avoiding the fellow with eyes that flit back and forth, looking for an attack, for a daemon to lurch out and attack. The only response that would repeat itself was that the fellow, with a young face but hair white as snow, felt unnatural to be around and even in the packed conditions of a Hive he would be given his space. For his part Cipher walks with a confident pace, which may be aided by the bare steel on his hip or the laspistol on the other.

Spotting the techpriest and slim girl, an odd pair anywhere but even more so for the area, Cipher strides towards them still a calm presence in the chaos of the Hive. Removing the glove of his right hand, he extends it palm up as he approaches, showing the sanctioning brand prominent in the center of his palm,

"Would I be correct in assuming that we are here on behest of mutual friend to meet with one Quint?"

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Initiative: (1d10+5)[9]

[Bowerbird]

Hack looks at the newcomer, a psyker apparently. "I am", he steps back to take in the both of them, "You may address me as Hack".

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I missed the bit about rolling initiative, here it is: (1d10+1)[7]

[Wiz]

The woman nods, "As am I... call me Xanthia."

[LCP]

Somewhere in the distance, there was the cough of a motor engine, the unseen vehicle rattling to a halt. A few muffled words were exchanged, and the vehicle revved up again, growling away into the distance – it had clearly left someone behind, swift footsteps sounding out from the darkness of one of the alleys leading up to Prim’s lair.

A lone man hove into view. Neither tall nor short, broad nor slim, he was dressed in the uniform of the Commissariat – although from the lack of gilding or ornate insignia, it seemed he could only be a junior officer. Catching sight of the group ahead of him, he stopped, eyes flicking between the acolytes. Taking off his peaked cap, he made a brisk, military bow – exposing the three raking scars that ran down over his jawline and towards his throat.

“Novice Commissar Valdemar, at your service. I assume you’re here for the same reason I am?” He gave a mirthless smile. “So much for my leave.”

[Chucho108]

Cipher

Taking in the other three Cipher replaces the glove before speaking again, a slight twitch of his eyes the only sign of acknowledging Valdemars's profession.

"I am known as Cipher. Has anyone noticed these other two mystery comrades of ours, or our intrepid leader, this Mr. Quint?"

[AssassinKing]

After I find my way to the Rendevous point. Sorry I'm late, I took a long route so I don't have to worry about people stealing my equipment. Oh and By the way my name is Garviel Loken, but you can call me Loken. (I want my guy to have a russian accent.)

[Equis]

Quint

A hacking, phlegmy cough comes from a nearby alleyway as a thin, greying man steps out of the building's shadow.

The man walks slowly towards the group, ponderously, his boots making a soft crunching noise as he approaches the gathered acolytes. As he draws near to them he reaches into the recesses of his greatcoat, retrieving a Lho stick from within and placing it to his lips before lighting it.

He takes a long, slow drag from the Lho stick before exhaling, a thin pall of smoke hanging around his head. Faintly, the man can be heard to be speaking below his breath.

"Damn things're gonna kill me one'a these days..."

The man reaches the group and removes the Lho from his mouth before speaking, holding it between his fingers.

"Good eve'n, ladies n' gents. The name's Quint; I take it y'all got the same message I did?"

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Initiative - (1d10+3)[13]

Throwing the Lho stick to the ground and grinding it into the grime and rust, Quint again reaches into the depths of his greatcoat, pulling out a large revolver in the process. The Arbitrator then reaches into an outer pocket and retrieves ammunition for the revolver, distending the gun and loading it as he begins addressing the group.

"Now... If'n we don't want ol' Prim to get the drop on us or light out on foot 'afore we can send him to the hot place, it might behoove us to get in there right quick and trap the son of a whore in his abode. "

"If y'see anybody pullin' a weapon on one of our own, y'take him out; alive, if possible, seein' as we can't question a corpse, but if'n ye can't, s'just one more corpse on the heap."

Quint finishes loading his revolver and carries it loosely in his hands.

"Any questions?"

[LCP]

Pius raised an eyebrow, taking in the man's appearance. Not entirely what one expected from the long arm of the Emperor's Law.

"Glad to see you, sir," he said, slightly formally. "I didn't know this was an assault mission."

He looked round at the house.

"Do we have any intelligence on this place? Expected numbers, layout, rear entrances?" He turned his gaze back to Quint. "If we're looking to capture this snake, it would be better to cut his lines of retreat."

[AssassinKing]

If there is a good sniping spot I could watch the building, of course if we also have access to a picture so I can identify the target. I'll try not to kill him. He points to his rifles.

[Bowerbird]

Hack pushes a button on his staff, folding i down to a more manageable size and affixing it to his belt, somewhere within the folds of his robes. With his other hand he draws his blade from it's scabbard on it's back, the other hand returning from his robes holding a deadly looking shotgun. "If assault we must, then assault I shall."

[Equis]

"Glad to see you, sir," he said, slightly formally. "I didn't know this was an assault mission."

"Le's jus' hope it don't turn into a firefight; like I said, don't want Prim rabbiting off 'afore we can question him about that Idyll. If all goes well, we'll be in an' outta there nice and quick and hit him like a ton o' ferrocrete."

"Do we have any intelligence on this place? Expected numbers, layout, rear entrances?" He turned his gaze back to Quint. "If we're looking to capture this snake, it would be better to cut his lines of retreat."

"I know a bit about what we can expect, but it ain't much. That door in front, along with the window, s'probably one room an' should leads into tha rest o' the house; them window's on the sides look like they're fer another room. Might be more rooms in there, but that's as much as I know about this place.

What I DO know more about is that he ain't no dross hound; our man Prim's a real up'n comer, an' he's been in the trade long enough to have a couple'a higher-class patrons. He ain't one fer dealin' all on his lonesome; he's more of a supplier, 'ceptin o' course when it comes to his more important marks.

Other'n that, I think he's got a coupla small fry to run errands fer him, nothin' we shouldn't be able ta take care of if'n it comes to a fight. Just don't want him runnin' scared, since he's known to be a mite twitchy when it comes to stayin' one step ahead o' the noose, an he's got more'n one rat hole to hide in if he trys to go to ground."

Quint's brow furrows as he recalls more details about Prim.

"Hmm... Keep an eye out fer Imperial Cargo crates; Emperor knows how he carries 'em, but he likes haulin' his goods in 'em. Might also be a good idea to keep an eye out fer servitors. Neighborhood like this, with gangers 'n other scum, his head'd be turnin' every which-a-way to keep an eye on his goods if'n he didn't have some other way o' watchin', an Prim ain't the type to be unprepared fer somethin' like that."

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Fel - (1d100+10)[55] (+10 to Fel from Peer (Underworld). Perhaps Quint has dealt with Prim/his hideouts before, or heard rumors about him? Alternately, I can roll Int if you prefer that.)

" If there is a good sniping spot I could watch the building, of course if we also have access to a picture so I can identify the target. I'll try not to kill him."

Quint glances upward and looks at the buildings around the group, keeping his face neutral.

"Don't know if'n its a good idea to split up; lots o' gangers run around down here, an' a lone man'll look like a sweet mark if they catch you unawares. Still, if'n y'want to provide cover, I ain't gonna stop ye. Just keep yer eyes peeled and yer senses open, an' tag anyone y'see comin' in after us."

"If assault we must, then assault I shall."

"Jus' remember; don't wanna make too much a scene, as I don't fancy our chances if he's got friends in there with 'im"

[Bowerbird]

"So are we to go in guns blazing or not? Be concise, man." Hack turns and looks towards the entrance. "Does anyone else feel that there is something odd about the entrance?" he says in a (relatively) quiet voice.

[Saldre]

A door opens in the distance. A lone man exits from a nearby building: it seems to be some sort of apartment complex, divided up into multiple partitions.

He hurries down the street past you, without giving you as much as a glance.

No doubt a good worker, taking an early lead to avoid the evening traffic.

How early? You could wait around and find out.

[LCP]

"What I DO know more about is that he ain't no dross hound; our man Prim's a real up'n comer, an' he's been in the trade long enough to have a couple'a higher-class patrons."

Pius frowned. Shameful, when the privileged are just as swift to turn their back on the Imperium that nurtures them as these underhive scum.

"Does anyone else feel that there is something odd about the entrance?"

Straightening his cap, the Commissar drew his laspistol, depressing the safety-stud on its battered casing. The "armed" rune on the back lit up.

"Nothing strange that I can see, Mechanicus. But a pretty sturdy-looking thing."

He looked round at Quint.

"Do you have a plan for getting inside? Or do we have to break it down?" He glanced back at the house. "Either way, perhaps Mr Loken would oblige us by taking out that pict-recorder."

[AssassinKing]

Loken takes out his hunting rifle which has the silencer attached, and starts to aim at the moving target. Give me the word and I could do it here and now. I would like to draw first blood for the day. Or I could track him down, either way it wouldn't be a problem.

[Equis]

"So are we to go in guns blazing or not? Be concise, man."

"Does anyone else feel that there is something odd about the entrance?" he says in a (relatively) quiet voice.

Quint turns towards the Tech Priest, hefting his revolver.

"No, not guns blazin', my friend. We go in quickly, and politely ask them to give up or we'll see about givin' 'em a few extra holes where they didn't have none before."

"Does anyone else feel that there is something odd about the entrance?"

Quint turns towards the entrance following Hack's appraisal of the door and furrows his brow. The Arbitrator tightens his grip on his revolver before speaking again.

"Don't seem like much but a door; but we've dabbled long enough, I reckon. What say we knock an' see if anybody's home?"

"Do you have a plan for getting inside? Or do we have to break it down? Either way, perhaps Mr Loken would oblige us by taking out that pict-recorder."

The Arbitrator motions forward with his gun. "Good idea about that recorder, Pius. Once that pict's taken care of, we can move in and show this dealer a bit 'o the Emperor's Mercy, savvy?

Quint checks his revolver one last time before turning towards the group and addressing them.

"Here's how it'll go: Hack an' I will take point; You and Garv provide backup, Pius, an' skinny here" he says, pointing towards the tall, gaunt man who has not yet spoken, "Can cover our rear along with the young lass."

[Wiz]

Xanthia reaches under her robe and produces a photon grenade, "Would it help if we hit their eyes first... it might take the fight out of them and leave more alive to question."

[AssassinKing]

All right. Got it. Now that that's over with, let's continue our mission.

[Saldre]

The Camera breaks and drops down on the floor, electric sparks flying from its minuscule frame as it burns out.

There is no reaction from behind the door, or anywhere else for that matter.

[Wiz]

Xanthia shrugs as her suggestion is ignored. The grenade disappears under her robe and is replaced by a Pit Viper Semi-Automatic Pistol with a laser sight.

[Saldre]

As time passes, you hear thunderous laughter coming from a distance, a mere fifteen minutes away you'd say, combined with the heavy marching of a crowd merrily stomping away in your group's direction.

It seems more people are making their way towards your street.

Grinding sounds and loud metal clanking herald their arrival. And by the sound of it, you can tell they are not probably not in full control of their senses.

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Technically its more like 17 minutes, but still!

[Equis]

Quint turns apprehensively towards the noise before once again addressing the group.

"Best get a move on; wouldn't want there to be a crowd for Prim to melt into, if'n he gets past us."

Having said that, Quint walks cautiously towards the door and moves to one side, keeping most of his body on the wall opposite the door. He then reaches down and grabs the handle of the door to see if said door is locked.

[Saldre]

You find that the door is unlocked.

In fact, as you grab the handle, the door slides open inwards with an eerie creak: It was not even properly closed.

[Equis]

Quint frowns before turning back towards the others.

"Somethin' don't seem right. Keep yer eyes peeled."

The Arbitrator motions the Tech Priest forward before he begins moving into the building, holding his revolver in a ready but slightly relaxed position.