The War of the Shadow IC

[LeSwordfish]

With nothing untoward found, and considering himself to be of very little help messing about with a generator, Gideon found a broom, discarded in a store cupboard, and set about cleaning up.

His mind drifted ahead to the auction, and as he swept, began drifting through possibilites, through heists and raids he had performed before, fitting clues and scraps of tricks and talents together, to plan his actions at the auction. Purely a thought exercise, since he had no way of knowing what they'd be called upon to do.

Blueprints of the house. Details of the goods to be auctioned. Perhaps miss Aria can help me find them. Stummers. Maybe at the tricorn, or Marcus might have some. A venom injector, or similar. Again, perhaps the...

He looked up with a start, to realise he had swept the entire cell corridor and enginarium.

[Calimos]

Marcus surveyed the place Gideon had located via his apparent negotiations with some of the local underworld's gangsters. As a former Enforcers way station the building would probably be well suited to serve as their center of operations during this assignment. Basic amenities, even if some maintenance would be required, defensible position, even a vehicle in disrepair, which could probably be later restored, with the expertise of Mr. Sryke.

He tried to assist Gideon and Aria to tidy the place a bit, examined the locks and general security and even installed screamers in key entry places, to serve as warning system for any potential and unwanted intrusion. After that he notified Gideon that he indeed had brought with him stummers, which he'd gladly hand over to him, so that he could be even more quiet than usual during their upcoming operation. He also gave him an injector, to use as he saw fit, after his relevant request, alongside a few confiscated combat drugs - stimms - that might prove useful at some point.

[Riddick]

The sergeant nodded. He didn't have a lot to add to the Interrogation, and he didn't know anything about xenobiology. Instead, Kerberos had decided he was going to see about getting Brassel a new posting. He stood by the vehicle, ostensibly guarding the young worker, and began to ask questions.

"How fast are you? How well do you know the local area? Do you know about any more of the Red Circus' dealings? Its owners? The creatures, or the tall man they were afraid of? What sort of skills do you have? Can you fire a gun? How would you feel about working with us?" The sergeant was military and efficient, asking short questions with simple answers. His end goal was learning all that Brassel knew, and figuring what sort of tasks would best suit the young man.

Brassel broke his awestruck gaze to focus on Kerberos. This was the Tricorn, the youth thought. Weren't there supposed to be Space Marines and murder-servitors stalking about?

The youth shook his head and replied in turn to the Sergeant. "Yeah, I'm pretty quick. The slow ones at the Circus don't last long."

"I don't know this area at all, but I know the Southlows from the mid-hive and down at least." He grimaces at the next few questions. "I'm afraid I told you just about all I know there. I hadn't seen the tall guy before then, but I had heard from Rile that someone had been doing business with some of the other Circuses. He described him as thin as a cage-prod but twice as nerve wracking." He shrugs apologetically.

"I'm a hard worker. I learn pretty quick...but I don't have a trade really. I know a bit about animals and how to care for them but I mostly did what the senior guys told me to do. Of course I can fire a gun! I grew up in the underhive ya know!"

The last question brought mute words to Brassel's lips as he rolled the implications over. For a second, his eyes scrutinized Kerberos with distrust, a holdover from his origins. With a little further deliberation, he gave his answer. "I would welcome the work, sir." He offered his hand to Pyrrhus.

****

Septimus joined the adepts as they tested the slain beast. They ran a number of tests on the warped Broscoraptor, working in tandem with Shryke.

One such test, involved an adept placing a sanctified blade against the creature's skin. The dead beast's flesh hissed as it burned from the touch. The adept made a soft sound as if something was confirmed. He explained to the Tech-Priest that this creature had been more daemon than beast.

"We've seen the like before," the adept explained. As he searched through the tray of tools nearby, he continued. "Through suffering and warp ritual, this creature was infested with the sentience of a warp fiend." He looked up, meeting Septimus' eyes. "It was possessed, sacrificed for the use of a lesser daemon spirit."

The adept returned to his search. "We'll have to examine the skin for specific marks. That'll help us narrow down the cult responsible for this blasphemy. Ideally, there will be scars, ritualistic symbols begging for attention from a specific..."

The adept's lecture-like monologue was was cut-short as Septimus' mechadendrite zoomed in on just the sort of scarring the adept spoke of. Indicating his discovery, the adept took a close look himself.

The adept 'hmmmed' and resumed his scholarly state. He pointed out the high level of mutilation apparent in the scar tissue as well as the nature of the symbols depicted in the cuts made to the poor creature. What was significant was that NO particular warp-deity was beckoned to. The powers of "chaos unaligned" was the term used, was utilized for the creation of these warp-beasts.

"What we are looking at," the adept surmised as he looked over the two remaining beasts in the cage, "are known as Dybuks." The other adepts looked at each other with knowing glances, sharing concern.

The adept squared up on Septimus once more, eyes hard. "These warp-infested creatures are the product of unholy ritual most commonly associated with the Pilgrims of Hayte." He paused to let that fact sink in, assuming the name held meaning to the acolyte. "And they're here, on Scintilla."

**

The first large step in the investigation had been made. And while it covered ground, it took the cell into dangerous territory. The involvement of the Pilgrims of Hayte was cause for sincere concern.

That singular worry was at the forefront as Shryke ran some preliminary tests on the mystery substance taken from the stained glass window.

The components of the material were rather easy to discern, given the facility and gear on hand: water, dissolved salts, sugars, and collagen fibers... a human eye. The substance lining the stained glass eye was ground up human eye.

As this odd, if not shocking result became apparent to Septimus, the doors to the lab he occupied opened. Another adept walked around the sterile counter carrying a data-slate. The labratorium equipment hummed in the high-grade facility, the noise filling the room.

The data-slate was handed over with little more than a nod before the adept courier turned to leave.

+Parchment Analysis from Cell F4T3D+

+Material carbon-dated to over 13,000 standard Terran years old. Material is notably not paper based, but organic - a dried leather like material with unknown properties loaning it its unusual durability.
+Organic nature combined with other tests indicates the parchment may be the epidermis of some unknown species.
+Follow up scans discovered trace elements of H2O, salts & sugars, and further organic matter in non-random lines. What looked to be dried water was found to be handwritten manuscript in a language not known to the adepts carrying out this test. This writing is fresh upon the ancient parchment.

****

Back at the newly acquired waystation, the others did what they could to fortify and prepare their new base of operations for the days to come. Armed with new knowledge, those days should be trying indeed.

[LCP]

"What we are looking at," the adept surmised as he looked over the two remaining beasts in the cage, "are known as Dybuks." The other adepts looked at each other with knowing glances, sharing concern.

The adept squared up on Septimus once more, eyes hard. "These warp-infested creatures are the product of unholy ritual most commonly associated with the Pilgrims of Hayte." He paused to let that fact sink in, assuming the name held meaning to the acolyte. "And they're here, on Scintilla."

It was not the answer Septimus had wanted to hear, though it was one he had suspected. The Warp was not amenable to rational analysis. The actions of those mortals who dabbled in it, however, were.

“What can you tell me about this cult?” asked the tech-priest. “And the 'Dybuk' ritual, what is known about that? Does it require specific ingredients? Take a specific amount of time?” Taking his eyes away from the specimen, he turned to look directly at the adept. “If someone were creating more of these creatures, somewhere in the Southlows... how easy would it be for them to hide their activities?”

~

Later, in the medicae lab, Septimus carefully re-packaged the glass fragment in a sterile container and put it back into one of the internal pockets of his robes. He was fairly certain he had seen the silhouetted figure of Longshadow remove an eye from Herstromm's body on the surveillance footage. Was this what had become of it? The dybuks, now this – it seemed the killer's every action was charged with some ritual significance.

What that significance was, he had no idea – but the adept, Aria, might. An autoclave bubbling merrily away on his left, he turned to receive the data-slate from the analysis of the parchment.

Nothing he had seen so far surprised him more than this. Thirteen thousand years old. That predated the Calixis Sector – that predated the Imperium. Looking up at the adept who had delivered the data-slate, he gave a carefully-modulated clearing of his “throat” as they turned to leave.

“The specimen,” he said. “Was it retained? Our cell would like to hold on to it.”

Connecting his own data-slate to the Tricorn's to make a copy, he turned the original towards the messenger, pointing to one sentence with a mechanical finger.

“This writing that was washed off. Could it not be deciphered?” He cocked his head at a slight angle, waiting for a response. “We would be very interested in the text itself.”

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These are all my questions. Once they are done I am happy for Shryke to pull his skull out of the autoclave, rejoin Pyrrhus, communicate with the group back at base (enough to learn that we need a water purifier), make the necessary purchases and return to the watch station. Assuming Destro's had a chance to respond too, then if you want to bundle that all into one GM post to save time please go ahead.

[LeSwordfish]

Shryke's comm crackled. It was Gideon. "When you're done boiling your head, we've found a base of operations. Meet me at..." He scrabbled around, found an unburnt map, and rattled off a set of co-ordinates nearby. Safer than giving the direct location. "It's a bit dilapidated: if you can pick up a water purifier that should help. Right now, the water's the colour of cholera."

"Found anything interesting?"

[LCP]

"Found anything interesting?"

"Far too much," replied Shryke over the comm-bead. "The animals were apparently altered by some sort of sorcery. Ask Aria if she's heard of the Pilgrims of Hayte." He paused. "I'll tell you the rest when I get back."

[LeSwordfish]

"Understood. Vox me when you're nearby."

Gideon dropped the link, and turned slowly in the precinct's lobby. The light was bleeding out of the area, and he'd been forced to use his night-shades for nearly an hour now. Clearing the rubble and detritus was hard work, but he'd piled up as much scrap in front of the main door as he could, leaving gaps wide enough to shoot through. Hopefully, a single man with good aim could hold the front of the building now.

Admittedly, Gideon privately thought, I'd prefer not to be that man.

He opened the link to Aria and Marcus. "How are things with the generator? News from Shryke: he asks what you know about the Pilgrims of Hayte."

[Destro_Yersul]

"Good." The sergeant hesitated for but a moment, then took Brassel's hand. The youth would need some instruction, almost definitely, but that could happen in time.

"If you don't own a weapon, we'll need to find you one. You don't want to go unarmed. Ever." The sergeant was a walking affirmation of this philosophy. He'd kept his weapons on him, and ready, the whole ride back to the Tricorn. It was as if the soldier couldn't switch off. "What sort of weaponry are you familiar with? We'll need to get some food, as well, if we're going to be staying in the Southlows. Ration bars would be the best option, I think. Cheaper than anything else, and I just want them as an emergency fallback in any case."

Hopefully, the Tricorn would have some on hand. They weren't a hard item to find, normally. "Other than that, if you don't have a trade, I think it best you start learning one. We'll talk more about that later. I need to talk to someone..."

[Riddick]

“What can you tell me about this cult?” asked the tech-priest. “And the 'Dybuk' ritual, what is known about that? Does it require specific ingredients? Take a specific amount of time?” Taking his eyes away from the specimen, he turned to look directly at the adept. “If someone were creating more of these creatures, somewhere in the Southlows... how easy would it be for them to hide their activities?”

The adept looked up from cleaning a speck of blood from his -I- emblem on his coat. "I can't say I know much. The ritual will entail a great deal of suffering if only to draw the warp-fiends to the 'host'. I've heard of the Pilgrims using this more on men, not on animals, but as the lesser spirit that possesses enhances existing physical strengths and replaces their... 'self' with that of a daemon... well you can see the obvious benefits."

He pauses in thought for a moment. "I don't know on the ingredients, but that merits further effort. I imagine the suffering would cause quite a bit of noise and be hard to conceal for that reason?" he offered, helpfully.

~~~

“The specimen,” he said. “Was it retained? Our cell would like to hold on to it.”

Connecting his own data-slate to the Tricorn's to make a copy, he turned the original towards the messenger, pointing to one sentence with a mechanical finger.

“This writing that was washed off. Could it not be deciphered?” He cocked his head at a slight angle, waiting for a response. “We would be very interested in the text itself.”

The man turned and nodded, arms held in an at-rest position behind his back. "Yes sir, if you'll follow me, the lead analyst would probably like to have a few words with you if you mean to leave here with it."

The man took a moment to push his glances back up onto the bridge of his nose before politely going on. "We didn't wash it off sir. The writing was done with that liquid. Not that long ago either, perhaps a week."

He turned for the door. "This way, sir."

**

In another well equipped lab, several aged men looked up as Septimus and the other man entered. They were all standing around the very parchment the cell had delivered.

Exchanging a few whispered words, the adept that had led Shryke here and the lead analyst looked to the acolyte in unison. The lead analyst was rather short and rotund. His eyes glared at Septimus, not out of spite, but out of construction.

His eyes had been replaced with cybernetics. The Tech-Priest could tell at a glance that their utility closely matched his own mechadendrite.

The man approached and sighed with resignation, hearing that his newest cause of excitement was to leave once more in the hands of the cell. "So I will have to content myself with studying the picts taken of the parchment, hmm? Very well." The man handed over the parchment. The lab had treated the liquid used to write with something else, causing it show up in a clear black now.

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His eyes whirred as they refocused and he continued on while taking a deep breath. "I've been doing this for over forty years and I've never seen anything like what you hold, or the writing it bears."

"You'll want to talk to someone who knows about ancient pieces. Maybe a collector or a dealer of sorts. Throne knows where you'll get a chance to talk to an antiquity expert though." He turned and walked away, shaking his head sadly.

~~~

"Good." The sergeant hesitated for but a moment, then took Brassel's hand. The youth would need some instruction, almost definitely, but that could happen in time.

"If you don't own a weapon, we'll need to find you one. You don't want to go unarmed. Ever." The sergeant was a walking affirmation of this philosophy. He'd kept his weapons on him, and ready, the whole ride back to the Tricorn. It was as if the soldier couldn't switch off. "What sort of weaponry are you familiar with? We'll need to get some food, as well, if we're going to be staying in the Southlows. Ration bars would be the best option, I think. Cheaper than anything else, and I just want them as an emergency fallback in any case."

Hopefully, the Tricorn would have some on hand. They weren't a hard item to find, normally. "Other than that, if you don't have a trade, I think it best you start learning one. We'll talk more about that later. I need to talk to someone..."

Brassel nodded as he listened. "I've only ever used slug throwers, mostly pistols."

The youth moved after Kerberos hurriedly. "Where we goin?" He asked. "Oh, I might be able to help with food in the Southlows... you got a strong stomach?"

The pair moved off as Brassel explained the finer points of eating pilfered beast feed from the Red Circus as well as the occasional charred creature that had fallen in the pits. Just the parts that Ingron wouldn't have missed that is. The youth figured he could do the same at another Circus if need be...

~~~

Ingron was escorted back to the acolytes when they were ready. He was patched up professionally with clean stitches and the wounds dressed in synth-skin. He looked haggard however, as if drained of fighting spirit.

After handing over the prisoner, the guards handed the cell members a single dose of Counterseptic in case the Interrogation ran longer than expected. It wouldn't do to have a prisoner drop from infection in the middle of questioning.

[LCP]

"We didn't wash it off sir. The writing was done with that liquid. Not that long ago either, perhaps a week."

"We found it after it had been blown clear of a hole in a window," said Shryke in reply. "I was under the impression the writing had been washed off by the rain."

~

"You'll want to talk to someone who knows about ancient pieces. Maybe a collector or a dealer of sorts. Throne knows where you'll get a chance to talk to an antiquity expert though."

Behind one plastiglass pane, Shryke might have raised an eyebrow. It was so difficult to tell.

"Is there a shortage of antiquities dealers on Scintilla?" he asked, neutrally. "I'd have thought one could find just about anything in Hive Sibellus."

"Of course, I'm not from here. Is there anywhere in particular I might look? An antiques district?" Sealing the parchment up in another of the sterile plastic bags from the lab, he pushed it into a pocket. "Once its place in the investigation has been determined, I will make every effort to return this specimen to your care."

[Riddick]

"We found it after it had been blown clear of a hole in a window," said Shryke in reply. "I was under the impression the writing had been washed off by the rain."

~

Behind one plastiglass pane, Shryke might have raised an eyebrow. It was so difficult to tell.

"Is there a shortage of antiquities dealers on Scintilla?" he asked, neutrally. "I'd have thought one could find just about anything in Hive Sibellus."

"Of course, I'm not from here. Is there anywhere in particular I might look? An antiques district?" Sealing the parchment up in another of the sterile plastic bags from the lab, he pushed it into a pocket. "Once its place in the investigation has been determined, I will make every effort to return this specimen to your care."

The adept started to shake his head slowly before he spoke. "Nnnno sir. The water we tested from the parchment was devoid any of the chems and pollutants that make up so much of our rainfall."

"There's several antiquity dealers but most of them are quite well off. Gaining an audience with one of them could prove difficult, especially with that auction coming up. The best ones will be taking time off to attend Krin's function, so I doubt you could catch them within their estates considering that."

[LCP]

"There's several antiquity dealers but most of them are quite well off. Gaining an audience with one of them could prove difficult, especially with that auction coming up. The best ones will be taking time off to attend Krin's function, so I doubt you could catch them within their estates considering that."

"Is that so?" said Shryke, doing his best to sound disappointed. The tech-priest was suddenly in a great hurry to be leaving: his body language didn't look disappointed at all. "Well, thank you for your help, adept. I must be on my way."

Striding quickly towards the door, he paused, turning back and making a beneficient gesture with one augmetic hand to his surroundings.

"Omnissiah bless this lab," he intoned, before hurrying back to rejoin Kerberos. It was time to tell the others what they had found.

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Let's go!

[Destro_Yersul]

The sergeant, with Brassel, was just returning to the courtyard. He'd finished talking to his friend, and there would be a few new things on the way for them. Brassel had been given a sword from the circus, and Ingron's old pistol. Pyrhuss would have to set up a firing range and give him some instruction later - for now, it was more important to have him armed.

"Think I've shored up our emergency food stores," he told the techpriest. "Sorted our ride back to, well... wherever it is we're going, too. Gideon was pretty vague. Brassel says he can always scavenge a bit more food, if times get desperate."

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Back to the waystation we go, then. Purchases can be sorted soon.

[LeSwordfish]

Gideon waited until the transport had left the three men and their cargo alone, and then dropped abruptly from the arteria gantry he'd been crouched in, cloak flapping like a corvid's wings, to land neatly in front of them. Enjoying the look of surprise on their faces- Aria and Marcus were almost used to this behaviour- he rose to his feet and brushed hive-dust from his knees.

"Mr Shryke, Cagemaster, I believe we've met. You must be Sargeant Kerberos, a pleasure, and your new friend..." He smiled politely at Brassel. "Don't panic, i don't bite."

"Our new base of operations is a few miles this way. If you'd care to follow me..."

---

It was late indeed when the group reached the patrol station. Gideon lead them inside through the enginarium doors, already speaking in a proprietorial air. "Enginarium in here- we've managed to move the Scarab i mentioned inside. Seems to be plenty of work space. Through there, a handful of cells- the cagemaster's destination, I believe. The large door is to the generatorium. And through there, stairs up to the lobby and the rest of the building."

[LCP]

"Our new base of operations is a few miles this way. If you'd care to follow me..."

"With pleasure," murmured the tech-priest. Reaching out, he wrapped one set of augmetic fingers around Ingron's wrist. They locked in place with a sound like the click-click of heavy keys. "This way, Cagemaster."

~

Following Gideon into the ruins of the watch station, Shryke released his captive with a rattle of loosening knuckles. The tech-priest surveyed their surroundings in utter silence. He didn't seem as pleased as Gideon at what he saw.

"How did this happen," he said in a hollow voice. For a moment, it seemed like it was the affront to Imperial law that had offended him so - that was before he stalked forward to the bullet-riddled shell of the Scarab, running one mechanical finger over its bonnet. Raising his hand in front of his face, he stared at the dust on his fingertip as if it had murdered some close relation.

"Left to rust."

Bowing his head, he placed his hand flat on the gutted machine and murmured a machine-code benediction, for all the world like a cleric performing the last rites. There was a somewhat awkward silence.

"You will show me the generatorium. The machine-spirits here will rise again." He turned away from the silent wreckage. "But first, I must report."

Proceeding further inside, Shryke ripped a large panel of flakboard from a wall that didn't look too load-bearing, laying it flat to act as a makeshift table. Sweeping it free of dust with his sleeve, he laid out the vacuum bags containing the parchment and the sample from the window in front of the rest of the group.

Speaking in brusque, clinical sentences, he shared what he had learned. When he had come to the end of the story, he paused, drumming one set of fingers against the tabletop.

"The script, the use of Herstromm's eye. They have significance to the killer. Occult significance, perhaps." He looked up at Marcus and Aria. "A subject on which I am unfortunately ill-informed. I am told, however, that many experts in antiquity will be present at House Krin's auction. They may be able to tell us more about these symbols."

Placing the two exhibits to one side, he interlocked his fingers. "It seems more than likely, however, that the animals falling between the cracks in our friend Ingron's book-keeping are being made into more of these 'Dybuks'. Our first priority must be to locate their creators."

Smoothly turning his head to look straight at their captive, he let his stare linger on Ingron for a couple of silent seconds.

"Mr Reinhart. Perhaps you might persuade the Cagemaster to help us."

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Being lazy and not writing up a recap of everything in the posts above. If anyone would rather I did, just say - I'm just assuming that people have been reading along.

[LeSwordfish]

"The pilgrims of Hayte were behind the attack on Malfi, weren't they?"

"I think we might need to pass this up to the inquisitor. This could get nasty."

[Riddick]

Previously:

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The Tricorn visitors, Kerberos, Shryke, Brassel, and the unwilling Ingron, stepped from the Inquisitorial fortress into the rain once more.

It hadn't eased up. Not even a little.

They caught a ride with an Arvus Lighter that was ferrying a Storm Trooper squad to the Lucid Palace. The Palace was the governmental center of the entire sector, and so the Inquisition loaned them top soldiers to strengthen such an important garrison.

Undoubtedly, some of the Troopers were spies for the Tricorn, keeping an eye on those with the visible power so that those that operated in the shadows were kept well informed.

Catching a tri-cab from the Lucid Palace's area was easy enough. The cell got an impressive view of the capital structure as the lighter came in for a landing. Despite the rain and the serious task at hand, the image could stir any man.

The five-wheeled transport, needed for all four of the men and their cargo, made the requested stop at a Munitorum depot. Pulling up to loading dock 11, Kerberos ran through a familiar ritual as he recalled the vox conversation he had not too long ago:

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Pyrhuss keyed a familiar number into the vox. The clerk Augustin, working for the Munitorum's supply wing, was an old friend. He'd helped the guardsman before, supplying him with discounted explosive material, and Pyrhuss hoped he would do so again. "Niko," he said when the line on the other end picked up. "It's Pyrhuss. How're things on your end? I've got myself re-assigned, after, well, you know. I'm looking for... a few things, actually. First thing, though, how much would it cost me to have a crate of frag grenades diverted for my use?"

Augustin clicked on the vox and replied in a raspy voice. The years of lho use have taken its toll on his throat. "<Cough> Things are good on my end. The work never ends, you know how it goes."

"Let's see, I can get you a case of frags for 90, there's 10 in there. Or I could probably make a crate disappear for 450, give or take. Those crates hold 50 frags. I also take trade, but you know that."

"Yeah, I do. I've got a pile of guns and other weapons I found, thought I should send them where they'd be put to use in the Emperor's name. I'll take a case of the grenades. If I need more I can always call again. I'd like some fuel as well, if you can swing that." Pyrhuss paused, staring at the vox for a moment. Could he tell Niko what he needed these for? Likely not. He hoped the clerk wouldn't ask too many questions.

"What else, what else... vox-set, mabe. I'm not sure if I'll have access to one, otherwise. How'd you be about taking the extra guns and things off my hands for a bit of cash?"

"<Cough Cough> I'll see what I can do. What kinda shape are they in? If I can move em, I'll take em. I gotta be careful of mixing too many used pieces in with the crates of the new stuff. The inspectors actually inspect from time to time."

"So grenades, fuel, and a vox-set? Sounds like a party. The fuel is easy enough though, let me take a look around for a functioning vox-caster."

He leaves the vox set switched on and the sound of rummaging and coughing can be heard.

The receiver knocks around as he picks it back up. "Yeah, we got a vox-caster. I'll see you when you get here."

"Munitorum central distribution warehouse. Sector 7a, sub-level 4."

"Use loading dock 11."

"Great. These're... well, pretty used, most of 'em, but they ought to function well enough. Half the time I think that's the only requirement for some of the stuff they used to send us. If you had a good armourer go over the weapons, smooth out the dents and give 'em a nice mono coating, I bet you could move those easy. The guns are all sidearms."

Kerberos didn't have high hopes for the weapons. They could put them on the black market, or buy some goodwill from a gang, but it wouldn't sit well with the sergeant to do so. He sighed. "Alright, thanks Niko. I'll give you a shout when I can get to the loading dock."

Keying the vox as he arrived, Niko stepped from the depot into the rain and waved to Pyrrhus. The rain was coming down hard and the Munitorum agent squinted and tried to shield his precious lho as he pointed to a foot-locker and an ammo canister. Augustin did a double take back inside the depot as a voice called out. It seemed like he was needed and he waved at the Sergeant as he left him to finish the trade.

The two had dealing before on several occasions. A level of trust had been built.

Kerberos switched the arms-locker he had carried on the loading dock for the foot-locker he requested. Inside were several frag grenades and a vox-caster. Next to the foot-locker were the standard canisters for fuel.

Pyrrus placed the cash for payment in the empty ammo can, loaded the foot-locker and fuel, and left the depot. The whole stop took under two minutes. Behind the departing tri-cab, the rain pelted the arms-locker left behind.

~~~

Gideon waited until the transport had left the three men and their cargo alone, and then dropped abruptly from the arteria gantry he'd been crouched in, cloak flapping like a corvid's wings, to land neatly in front of them. Enjoying the look of surprise on their faces- Aria and Marcus were almost used to this behaviour- he rose to his feet and brushed hive-dust from his knees.

"Mr Shryke, Cagemaster, I believe we've met. You must be Sargeant Kerberos, a pleasure, and your new friend..." He smiled politely at Brassel. "Don't panic, i don't bite."

"Our new base of operations is a few miles this way. If you'd care to follow me..."

The tri-cab driver angrily took the fare money and reversed out of the area quickly, knocking over a refuse bin in his haste. This was not a good area and it just got worse the closer the acolytes got to their claimed waystation.

Taking turns carrying the arms-locker and fuel, even forcing Ingron to carry what he could, they eventually saw the looming enforcer waystation.

The gangers from before looked at the men quizzically from their perch outside the bar. Clearly, they did not expect the tourists to take their advice literally and actually move into the waystation.

More could come of that later, but for now, the mission demanded thier attention.

[Destro_Yersul]

"It could. I've fought... warp things, before. Not something you want to be messing around with." Pyrhuss hefted his flamer, the sergeant's face grim. "Only answer is to burn them all, but first we have to find the things. Maybe Ingron can help us, and if he can, I'm betting we can drag the help out of him whether he wants to give it or not, between Reinhardt and myself."

The sergeant had set the fuel down next to the scarab, for Shryke to use later. The rest of the equipment he'd bought, he could set up later. Probably need the techpriest to help with the vox-caster. The bulky guard units were powerful, it would be very useful for relaying microbead traffic later, if they needed to split up.

Which they would, since the auction invitation was only open for three, and the odd men out were likely to be Shryke and Himself. "This place is likely to take some fixing up, too. We'll have to balance our time. Brassel can help with that, I'd wager. We'll have to deal with the nearby gangs too - I saw them giving us the eye on our way in."

[LCP]

"We'll have to deal with the nearby gangs too - I saw them giving us the eye on our way in."

Momentarily closing his eyes, Shryke clenched his left fist. There was a sound from under the mask as of a long exhalation.

Opening his eyes again, he looked at Gideon, once again a model of composed calm.

"The sergeant has procured a vox-caster for this place," he said, speaking quickly. "If Miss Aria will assist me with her cogitator, we can transmit an encrypted report back to the Tricorn." There was the briefest of pauses before the tech-priest ran impatiently on. "As soon as we have finished gathering things to report. I think the Inquisitor would want to know what we are planning next, don't you? As well as what the Cagemaster told us. Before he became unfortunately incapacitated."

The tech-priest's eyes slid back to Ingron.

"Mr Reinhardt, will you be requiring any assistance?"

[Calimos]

Marcus welcomed the other acolytes as soon as they arrived in the former Enforcers' waystation, which had fallen to disrepair. Gideon, Aria and him had done what was possible to bring this place back to working order, as much as was possible, as well as to install a basic but functional alarm network, via the screamers he'd been carrying on his equipment, but there was still much to be done.

"It is good that you are here. Sergeant Kerberos, you could certainly use your experience in making this place, our current base of operations, much more safe, in terms of security countermeasures and defensibility status, in case we are attacked. And you Mr. Shryke will most certainly be invaluable in rousing the dormant machine-spirits in the generatorium area of the station. By the way, would you think that it might be possible to conduct repairs, to this - unfortunately damaged and left here - Scarab vehicle that once belonged to Scintillan enforcers? I do not think they'll be needing it and it might very well solve our transportation problem if it becomes operational at some later time.

Now, to the more serious matters. After your last transmission, I was alerted by Gideon to look into the Pilgrims of Hayte. I tried to remember all that I had encountered on them - in terms of information and first hand experience - from my days of active duty, both in the Adeptus Arbites and in the Divisio Immoralis, here in Scintilla. I also checked my notes and various files I had in my possession and managed to discern a few things. The news aren't exactly good. On the contrary lady and gentlemen. If the Pilgrims are indeed involved we have a damn serious situation in our hands and we should be even more careful and decisive to our approach.

The Pilgrims of Hayte themselves are a cult and more specifically an apocalypse cult totally and completely pledged in the service of the Ruinous powers. They want nothing more than to throw the Imperium into ruin and they're known for loathing members of the Ecclesiarchy even more than the rest of the failed system that Imperium is in their tainted eyes.

Regarding their modus operandi they revel in carnage, for it furthers their agenda and pleases the blasphemous gods that they worship at the same time. Commonly, they operate in cells, much like the august organization in which we serve. Therefore there's no guarantee that in case we manage to locate and capture someone of them, that he'll will actually know anything of use about other possible cultist cells in the area, since he may legitimately be unaware.

As far as their infamy and record track goes, the Pilgrims of Hayte are responsible for not only the Bloody Solstice on Malfi, a horrific attack where daemons and heretics ran rampant but also for the Doom of the Ardent Seeker, a horrific incident, where a False Prophet, (one of the so called leaders of the Pilgrims of Hayte), had secreted himself aboard the vessel along with more cultists. While traveling the warp, the Pilgrims rose up and overtook the vessel condemning 90% of the inhabitants to a tortuous fate.

What is even more worrying, is the fact that the cult has been observed to make open use of daemons on many occasions and this might prove especially problematic given the power and threat level of entities categorized under the "Enemy Beyond" classification. Considering that, Longshadow could either be a sorcerer of considerable power or even worse a daemonic entity of some kind.

Needless to say, we need to monitor the situation very carefully and report to our Inquisitor after any major development. To that point, excellent work Sergeant on securing and installing that vox-caster. Communication in this case we're dealing with will be of paramount importance".

*******

"Now on the matter of the items retrieved, news as reported by our comrades are certainly intriguing if not simply confusing. Millenia old parchments do not appear any day and it seems that yet another clue points us to the upcoming House Krin auction. Good thing you're on friendly terms with their representative Gideon. It might really pay off, in the course of next days".

*******

Marcus shifted his view to Ingron, who looked somewhat better or at least well enough to withstand an interrogation without the risk of permanent incapacitation prior to the extraction of any useful information.

"Cagemaster. Welcome to our humble abode. I see they took good care of you. I hope that you understand - for your own good that is - that we are not unreasonable men. We simply are utterly and completely loyal to the Immmortal God Emperor, the Golden Throne of Terra and to our duties. I will give you this one chance to come clear, provide us with all the information we require, regarding those beasts, the shady dealings between the various Red Circus establishments, Mr Scorzita himself and that strange tall and lean man "Longshadow" if you like. If you do this, I promise not to harm you any further. If not though, I will have to adhere to my duty and make sure to extract any and all information relevant to this case, from you, by any means necessary.And believe me you wouldn't like it. It is up to you".

He turned to his comrades and continued, as he awaited for Ingron's response.

"I have taken the liberty of preparing one of the basement holding cells of this facility into an interrogation chamber. Excruciator array is set up and ready. I might need your expertise Mr. Shryke. Have you ever conducted an interrogation or assisted during one?"

[LCP]

"No."

Rummaging in his robes, the tech-priest produced the vial of counterseptic they had been given.

"We were issued this, in case he required... further medical attention." He put the vial down on the makeshift table. "Whether you feel you need my assistance as a medic depends entirely on how seriously you are planning to injure him, Mr Reinhart. Otherwise, I will tend to the machines."

Sweeping some cement dust from his sleeve, the tech-priest made to rise.

[Riddick]

Ingron looked between Reinhart and Shryke as they conversed, their topic interesting him greatly. He didn't look terribly healthy to begin with, but the prospect of what was to come turned him a new shade of pale.

OOC:

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When ready, give me an Interrogation test please. Anyone else with Interrogation can 'Aid' Marcus and add 10. Anyone with Intimidate or other fitting social skill can make a test along with Marcus in an attempt to aid the Interrogation in that regard.

Prior to rolling (or at the same time) please list your questions you'd liked answered in order of priority. You'll get one answer per DoS in this opposed test (assuming success!). Feel free to confer on the questions as they must be rather basic for each one. Ie no asking him for his life story for the past two weeks as one question.

As this can take some time etc, Anyone else's actions would be good too if work is going to be done on the waystation/scarab or further the knowledge base.

[Destro_Yersul]

"Maybe Shryke hasn't, but I have." The Sergeant drew his laspistol, checking the safety and staring pointedly at Ingron. "Battlefield interrogations tend to be messy, but I say it's no more than heretics deserve. Let's get him down to where you've set up your excruciator and then, if he won't tell us what he knows, we can just make him."

[LeSwordfish]

Gideon flicked out his knife, a wicked hunting knife. Not coincidentally, it was excellent for skinning, and as a beast-master, Ingron would know that.

"There's an interrogation cell through there." He said. "Chair with straps and everything."

[LCP]

"Enjoy yourselves, then," said Shryke. His tall, scarecrow-like frame folded nearly in half as he stooped to pick up Marcus' lascutter. "I will tend to the more deserving."

Slinging the cutter over his shoulder, he fished in his robes with his left hand for his combi-tool. Stepping out of the room with a determined air, he made for the generatorium. Soon, the reflections of spitting sparks and the echoes of baritone incantations began to drift through the rest of the old waystation...

[Riddick]

Ingron lowered his head and marched off into the make-shift interrogation room, followed by his questioners.

The Cagemaster was breathing hard and sweating heavily even before the questions began. He looked a mess, his eyes downcast as he shuffled towards the seat.

As the tools from the Excruciator were laid out on the table, the door closed muffling the already heavy breathing growing heavier.

~~~

Outside the waystation, the gangers looked up from harassing an underhive woman making her way home from a triple shift in the water reprocessing plant. Despite her weariness, she too joined the gangers in their perplexed looks as sound emanated from the derelict waystation.

A cry of agony split the air. As it subsided, the sounds of chanting and machine work drifted down to the bar's entrance.

The gangers exchanged looks and returned their attention to the woman, smothering her in piggish leering.

It was several minutes later when the faded and forgotten waystation hummed to life, light spilling from decrepit glow-globes, that the gangers truly took notice.

"What the frak?" One exclaimed to no one in particular. Seizing the moment, the weary woman sidled off while the gangers were distracted with their new neighbors.

[LeSwordfish]

Gideon slipped away upstairs to the little patch of rooftop he'd marked away as his own, and cleaned the blood off his knife with a scrap of cloth.

He'd never had a problem with killing, but when it was close and personal it was different. Uncivilised. Animals killed up-close. And humans...

He rarely slept nowadays.

"I'll take a watch." He reported into the microbead. "I think tomorrow we need to conference. But for now, sleep and rest."

He swung up his sights, flicked them to night-mode, and began scanning the area.

[ChaoticSky]

OOC

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This is why i hate missing stuff, theres too much there for me to respond to everything in a salient manner, so, im going to toss out some reinvent points to get aria caught up with the rest of you.

_______________________________

Aria had peeked into the risque establishment that the gangers were fronting while the others talked turkey, but came away almost instantly, blushing all the way to her ears. Evidently, there was such a thing as knowing too much.

She followed along with the others when they departed, eager to be away from there, and eventually entered the run down arbites station with the others. Aria peered around, and particularly at her own feet as she stepped carefully inside, apparently worried that the floor might collapse. Once the group had gotten a chance to look the place over, and the female Adept had assured herself the floor wasnt going to cave in and drop her a couple kilometres into the hives bowels, she tentatively added "Well... atleased its still standing..." in a tone normally reserved for 'oh look, i seem to have stepped in grox****'
_______________________________

"Mhmm Hecate..." Babble murmered to herself at the voxed query, "I'll check" she replied, fiddling with her slate for more information.

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This is, clearly, where i made my roll, so amazing that it warped the fabric of space and time.

If you want me to actually roll, let me know, but we seem to be kinda past that now.

"Oh yes, Heretics..."
_______________________________

As the group prepared to work on the captive beastmaster, Aria looked rather sick, and hastily exited the chamber, while she was used to many of the horrors of their profession, if only in a freeze-solid-with-her-finger-on-the-trigger kinda way, there were things she was not yet endured to. Torture seemed to be one of them. If any of the others went looking for her, they would find her about as far away as it was possible to get and still be within the building, as she put as many walls between herself and the interrogation cell as she could.

[LCP]

Extricating himself from under the belly of the Scarab, Shryke stood up with a satisfied air. Dusting off his hands with a sound like two saucepans being scraped against each other, he opened the bullet-riddled door of the patrol car and folded himself into the driver's seat. The key was practically rusted in place, but it still turned: with a throaty growl, the engine started.

Turning it back off, the tech-priest sat back. Somewhere at the back of his mind, he was aware that a new day-cycle would be starting soon. He wasn't really feeling it, but if he ignored his biological components for too long they would probably start to shut down of their own accord. They were unreliable like that.

He heard Gideon's message come over the vox, and nodded to himself. For a first day, they had made a good start. For now, there was no-one among his new companions he would trust to watch over them more than the assassin.

Getting out of the driver's seat, he opened one of the car's rear doors and got back in. Lying down across the tattered back seats, the tech-priest went to sleep. Still held in his arms, like a child's stuffed toy, was the bright white skull of Ingron's Ogryn...

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Ready to move on to morning when everyone else is.

[Destro_Yersul]

"Congratulations, Ingron," Pyrhuss said, handing one of the bloody tools out of the excruciator kit back to Marcus. "You have, at the least, convinced me that you are merely a fool, caught in heretical dealings much larger than yourself. The Emperor may have mercy on your soul after all."

Stepping back from the cagemaster, the guardsman holstered his pistol at last. He had found it interesting, to watch Marcus work, and to try his own hand at it. It was a different sort of tactic than he was used to from the battlefield, but no less effective at eliciting answers. "You've won your life, for now. Perhaps we will have more to ask you later."

The sergeant slept better than most, for what he'd seen. Sometimes, his dreams were troubled by nightmares, but Pyrhuss knew the truth. The Emperor protects, whether the terrors be real or imaginary. Leaving Ingron to his cell, and the others to their own work, the former guardsman found himself a nice place in the barracks to stretch out for the night. The last thing he did before he went to sleep was put his laspistol on the nightstand, with the safety turned on.

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Also ready to move on.