14th Black Crusade - IC

[Henry the 57th]

"It is merely that your desire for unity and stability is a sentiment often heard of that Legion." Vul turns and walks back.

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Vul will spend the time looking for someone who can read the books, and also for a psychic hood.

[DrK]

The Astartes part ways with the acolytes with wary, if respectful nods. THe scribe already ignoring them and going back to his data slates and scrolls as the queue of renegades and heretics seeking a place in the holds of the reaver fleets continues to grow.

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I'm just assuming Fabrius/Kurin are going along with Vul and Alicia

Hours later

THe sage's shop front was a small affair with two rough looking mutants on the door though neither dare even twitch as the acolytes barge past. Inside there is a dry smell of must, paper and drying chemicals and the braziers on the walls glow with flickering purple-blue flames.

The owner wears long blush robes that seem to shimmer against the albine white skin on his bald head or his long thin 6 fingered hands. Your reflection glitters back at you a hundred fold in his insectoid compound eyes. Let us see what your finds contain he hisses, eyes gleaming with avarice...

Long hours pass as the man goes through all the books and tomes slowly making careful notes. His mouth drooling as he reads through things with studied concentration. As the hours fade by he looks up... What were you looking for... he licks his lips nervously. There are no rituals of warp in theses pages though the are fasciniating. Name you price and I shall give it for these fine works. I supsect you have no use for them now. His compound eyes glittered and it seemed obvious he was being evasive...

[Henry the 57th]

Vul looks the little man in the eye, red lenses glaring down at him. "You wouldn't lie to me, now would you?" His telekinetic fingers gently stroke the man's neck.

[DrK]

THe combination of hulking lethality of the terminator and the prressure of unseen psychic forces gripping his neck leaves the man qualiing in terror. "You don't realise what you have. Its worth, Its danger. Its incalcuable." He throws himself forward on the floor begging for his life.

You have two here. One is a fragment of The Furies of Prosepero. Vaal would kill you for merely seeing it. For endangering his beacon." He pauses and you cans ee sewat pouring off his head. The other is a piece of de Orbis mysteriis. Its too powerful. With this ritual and the right conditions you could drag an entire planet into the warp! An entire world plucked and hrled into the screaming vortex!"

[Henry the 57th]

"If they are so dangerous, pray tell why you were attempting to take them off my hands moments ago? Scheming against Vaal, are we?" Vul chuckles. He looks at the tomes, then back at the man. "Elaborate. What do the rituals do, and what do they require? More precisely, how does this tome endanger the beacon, and what conditions would be needed to drag a world into the Screaming Vortex? Go into as much detail as you can - I want everything. Cooperate, and I'll consider showing you mercy for attempting to deceive me."

[DrK]

"If they are so dangerous, pray tell why you were attempting to take them off my hands moments ago? Scheming against Vaal, are we?" Vul chuckles. He looks at the tomes, then back at the man. "Elaborate. What do the rituals do, and what do they require? More precisely, how does this tome endanger the beacon, and what conditions would be needed to drag a world into the Screaming Vortex? Go into as much detail as you can - I want everything. Cooperate, and I'll consider showing you mercy for attempting to deceive me."

The man holds up two of the books. One - a tattered sheaf of paper barely legible held together by scripts of leather and written in something that looks like dried blood.

THe other book is a glittering tome with blue steel and inlaid jewels and gems. He gestures to the fancy tome first. "Vaal will kill you for this. The ritual within The Furies of Prospero could destroy his beacon. His dark mirror of the False Emperor's astronomicon. With the proper rites and rituals and sorcerous implements you could destablise it or even reconcsecrate the beacon to the changer cheating the debauched Prince of his glories." The slight wry grin on his face may suggest that he is not altogther saddened by that idea.

His hands begin to tremble however as he points at the loose leaf of scrolls - his voice becoming grander and speaking in a far more refined and cultured tone "The soul of charity - a gift to the Blood God, the soul of law - to the Changer who detests all things in stais, the soul of piety to the Deabauched one who despises depriving the flesh and the soul of securityto the Grandfather who brings low all in time." he pauses, a wild look in his eyes. "THe ritual. It will bring an entire world. An entire planet with all of its teeming souls into the vortex where they may be consumed as a sacrifice of unparalled scale." Before Vul can make demands of him he holds up a hand in a fearful cringing manner. "I cannot say the details Great Warrior. it will take days to decipher it and calculate the planets that could be targetted and the details required. Please. I cannot say yet...

[Henry the 57th]

"How many days, and what equipment is necessary?" Vul says in a soft tone.

[DrK]

"How many days, and what equipment is necessary?" Vul says in a soft tone.

He looks slightly panicked. "A week.. 2 at most Great Warrio. I would need some books for reference. Some charms and some divinations.."

[Henry the 57th]

"And are these portable?" Vul says, not raising his voice, but inwardly feeling intensely amused at the man's fear.

[Mekboy]

Three days waiting. She'd barely stood it on the ship - at least then she wasn't surrounded by human vermin constantly. This would be exasperating. Best try and make the most of it. First of all, she'd need somewhere befitting her to sleep. Secondly, the blessing of the gods. And maybe something to replace the battered old carapace she currently wore.

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I'll try and find a temple of khorne, then try and trade my carapace armour and get power armour ((1d100)[38] vs 29) then try and find somewhere to stay, at least of good quality.

[DrK]

"And are these portable?" Vul says, not raising his voice, but inwardly feeling intensely amused at the man's fear.

A large gulp and then the albino pales slightly - an impressive feat for an albino - as he can sense the demand that Vul may be about to insist on. "Er. They could be. Why? I will be of no use in the coming crusade. I am feeble, weak and craven at heart..."

Three days waiting. She'd barely stood it on the ship - at least then she wasn't surrounded by human vermin constantly. This would be exasperating. Best try and make the most of it. First of all, she'd need somewhere befitting her to sleep. Secondly, the blessing of the gods. And maybe something to replace the battered old carapace she currently wore.

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I'll try and find a temple of khorne, then try and trade my carapace armour and get power armour ([roll0] vs 29) then try and find somewhere to stay, at least of good quality.

Alicia sadly finds little armour left in the Blood God's Temple - the devotees of the Blood God sacrifing slaves, prisoners and each other on the floors of the gladiatorial slave pits. The quarters you can easily find a small cell festooned with dried blood peeling off the wall with a cot and a small anteroom littered with blades for practice or torture as you want.

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Emperor Ing's Nurgilite will be joining us and the Tzeentchian Heretek of unbetownist so when they have posted we can board the false chartist vessel and set sail to the Port Last Hope at the edge of the Limoges system.

[Henry the 57th]

"Because I don't have two weeks to wait. I leave in mere days. And I need those rituals. And I can hardly leave you here, now can I? As you pointed out, Vaal would kill me if he knew what I have. And, in my experience, beings like you will inevitably sell me out to him when they think it will be to their personal advantage. So that's why. I need you to come and finish your work with the rituals, and because I don't trust you not to sell me out the moment I'm off-planet. Of course, you could always opt to take the other option that ensures your silence. That being that I kill you on the spot and find someone else to help translate the rituals." Vul pauses for a moment. "I'll give you a sporting chance. Give me an arguement for letting you stay here. Or, failing that, find someone with similar abilities who is more warlike to take your place."

[DrK]

"I'll give you a sporting chance. Give me an arguement for letting you stay here. Or, failing that, find someone with similar abilities who is more warlike to take your place."

He looks panicked and flustered before hitting on the glimmers of an idea. "The voyage from the vortex to Limoges will be several weeks Great Warrior. Would I be permitted to remain aboard the Chartrist Trader?" he looks nervous and terrified at the idea of going to actual war. "You have no need of me in the LImoges system. I can decipher everything before then."

[Henry the 57th]

Vul thinks for a moment. "If you can provide some proof that you will not sell me out the moment I am gone."

[watupwithdat]

Farius had little interest in whatever quest the sorcerer-warrior was on. When he thought about it, he could not really put his finger on why he was in the the warrior-witch's company in the first place -- he only encountered greater daemons and enabling the killing of high regarded slaaneshi worshippers it seemed. Farius did not need that before the campaign had even started, and went his own way and waited the days until the vessel would depart for conquest.

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And there ends the saga about Farius.

Now it is the saga of Qaeviir which will begin shortly.

[Henry the 57th]

Whatever happens with the little man, Vul resolves to seek out a second opinion on these rituals. Just to be sure.

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Watup, that's your cue. Enter stage right.

[watupwithdat]

Qaeviir had been travelling a nearby system in search for interesting things to study when the rumours of Vaal's call for manpower had caught his attention, and on a whim left for the Diskouri system. The opportunity to take part in and study the fall and corruption of a whole system felt like a good endeavour for Qaeviir to focus his mind on, as he had never experienced such a thing before. And conflict had a tendency to unearth things as a secondary effect, things potentially previously undocumented.

The Archivist-Savant had been present in Skaarsdelve for a full day, searching for various potential artifacts of arcane lore, interesting texts and looking for various other things that he could pass time with delving into, when he heard by the winds of rumour someone looking for one with his particular skills. Some sorcerer in Astartes terminator armour, evidently. Qaeviir was a little intruiged on the prospect of what one of the Traitor Legions wanted from one such as he. He had not interacted personally much with that kind, and only a few times home in Tarnor by the medium of a translator. The chains which was the decree of no speech had annoyed Qaeviir to no end while there. But now he was able to loosen those chains, atleast.

It was then the rumoured Astartes sorcerer, he assumed, appeared in his proximity. Telling by the unnatural speed of the terminator-clad warrior, he was definately utilizing the warp for greater mobility to counteract the drawbacks of such a bulky armour. Swift as Karanak? It seemed likely. He was loath to use that name for the spell, though. He was surprised a sorcerer would need to be both so heavily armoured and having such an extensive arsenal of weaponry. But he was not too familiar with all the different kind of Astartes psykers there was, or how they fought. Perhaps he was not very proficient when it came to drawing on the immaterium.

A moment later the sorcerer approached Qaeviir, who stood still, warp staff in hand, waiting for the sorcerer to speak.

[Henry the 57th]

Vul has spent several hours seeking out a separate scholar to examine the texts he seized from the mutant psyker's stall. It proves somewhat more difficult than anticipated, but in the end, a small man proved willing enough to point him in the direction of a man rumored to have come from mysterious Q'sal. That was good enough to investigate, as least.

Vul soon finds the man walking up to and staring at him, as though he knew of Vul's coming in advance. If he is from Q'sal, perhaps he did. Vul muses.

He looks down at the little man, his Warpsight indicating to him that this one possesses psychic power. As if the Warp Staff he holds didn't make it obvious enough.

"I am seeking someone to translate certain texts on my behalf. Rumor has it that you have skills in that area."

[watupwithdat]

Certain texts? Qaeviir wondered what kind of texts an Astartes needed help with. This one's not a scholar, then. The conclusion seemed obvious looking at the towering Astartes.

"I have some skills in that area, correct." Qaeviir signed with his free hand. He waited for some kind of reply for a few seconds before he realized his mistake. The habit of using the sign language of Tarnor was very ingrained in his being, not surprisingly, and he sometimes forgot that people who understood it was rare outside of Q'Sal and that he needed to speak to be understood. "I have some skills. In that area. Yes." he spoke aloud with a little uneasiness. Years upon years of silence had taken its toll on his ability to form flowing sentences. "What do you know about these. Texts?" he continued, as he let his left arm relax by his side having no need for it to form signs at the moment, the fingers moving a little as he spoke aloud.

[Henry the 57th]

Vul watches as the psyker makes several hand gestures, then stop. Perhaps his mouth is mutated shut? he wonders. It wouldn't be the first time Vul has seen something like that.

That particular theory is almost immediately disproved when the man starts talking. His hesitation, and the fact that his fingers twitch slightly as he speaks, make it plain he is somewhat more used to such sign language than actual speech. Is this something normal on Q'Sal? Vul thinks.

In lieu of speaking aloud, Vul simply projects his voice into the psyker's mind.

Perhaps you would be more at ease speaking in this manner?

[watupwithdat]

"I would prefer if you did not. Contact me telepathically. Until I allow you to." Qaeviir bluntly said as his fingers slowly tapped and wrapped around the shaft of the warp staff. He did not fear the hulking sorcerer in the least, as he was quite confident in his abilities, albeit not as experienced in actual physical combat as he understood the warrior to be. "Speech is enough." In a way Qaeviir actually prefered speech over his currently very miniscule telepathic ability, an area he had not spent much time developing. Being able to speak, without fear of death, was in a way exhilarating to him.

"What do you know about these texts?" he repeated, not very patient when it came to him being the one asked to help. He could spend his time doing something else, though he was genuinely curious about the texts.

[Henry the 57th]

Vul pulls out the two texts the man had highlighted earlier. "I hold in my hands what I believe to be copies of The Furies of Prospero and De Orbis Mysteriis. I want confirmation of their identities, as well as identification of the Warp rituals within."

[watupwithdat]

Qaeviir's eyes sharpened behind his elaborate mirror-mask when he heard what the sorcerer thought the texts contained. He had heard about them from a few colleagues and rivals alike home on Q'Sal, but never seen or read any copies of them himself. He was unsure about the exact purpose of The Furies of Prospero, but De Orbis Mysteriis he knew was something immense. A ritual to move worlds, they say. He wanted his hands on those texts, he had decided there and then. That familiar thrist for knowledge had awakened in this dull landscape.

"I'm a little familiar with those. I could do that, yes." He paused a short moment. "But if you know about us. You know I do not do charity." he said as he gestured with his hand, the meaning very likely lost to the Astartes. If the Astartes would part with the rituals after they had been deciphered and identities confirmed, Qaeviir would see that as an acceptable compensation. Though it seemed unlikely the Astartes would part with them at this moment.

[Henry the 57th]

"And what do you want in return?" Vul asks. Besides your life, that is. He thinks to himself.

[watupwithdat]

The Archivist-Savant was quiet for a few moments, seemingly in thought. Of couse, he had already decided long ago what he wanted in return. "The contents of these texts I will share with you. At the best of my ability." Qaeviir said, subtly signing as he spoke. "In return I would like to keep them once your use for them is no more." The flow of his sentences slightly improved the more he spoke. "Assuming you in fact plan on using them. If not there will be no issue with this."

[Henry the 57th]

Vul tries to avoid laughing. He really does. Unfortunately, the urge overwhelms him, and he laughs. From his throat comes a deep, grating noise that sounds like it has not been heard in a very long time.

After his brief fit is over, Vul looks the psyker in the eye. "Little man, what do you take me for? Do you believe that I have survived 10,000 years of warfare against the False Emperor by giving away such rare artifacts to everyone who claims they can help me with them? No. I have a better idea: I will retain the originals. I will permit you to make a copy, after I have verified that you are not attempting to deceive or shortchange me."

[watupwithdat]

Qaeviir was not surprised that the Astartes had refused. He expected it. And he had learnt much from the way the Astartes had refused. Knowledge he could use to his advantage at a later point. But he would not let this opportunity go to waste.

"Then I shall study these texts. You can refer to me as Magister Immaterial Qaeviir." He paused, his fingers still. "However, I had planned on venturing to this Vaal's world conquering endeavour. In three days time. Unless you are too, we will have little time."

[Henry the 57th]

"I am Karesh Vul of the Black Legion. And I also plan on going on Vaal's little crusade. I look forward to warring against the Emperor's slaves." Vul grins under his helmet as he relishes the idea of the pain and terror to come, his chainfist sympathetically switching from off to idling.

[watupwithdat]

"Then our paths intertwine." Most fortunate, but being from a planet dedicated to the Weaver of Fates it was nothing Qaeviir spent a second thought on. "Until departure in three days, then, Karesh Vul of the Black Legion." he said as he began to move in the direction he had been going before the Astartes appeared. He would need to attempt to find some supplies to help him better decipher the texts, as well as aid him during the times ahead quite possibly containing warfare.

[Henry the 57th]

"I will see you then." Vul says, going his own way.