Mutiny aboard the Malheureuse!

[Thragka]

Jack was singing a voidfarer's folk-tune as he slung the plasma gun and drew a bolt pistol in one hand and his sword in the other.

"In year M thirty-nine, seven hundred and six, we set sail 'neath the cold light of Pry.
We were sailing away with a cargo of bricks to the docks in the Scintillan sky ..."

He snapped a couple of bolts at the nearest enemy, but perhaps he ought to have spent less time singing and more time aiming; both smoked wide.

Spoiler: OOC

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Free action to draw sword and pistol, and then Semi-auto at the nearest enemy. BS 52. Bolt pistol is Pen 4 and Tearing.

ToHit62 - (1d100)[93] terrible miss
Damage1 - (2d10b1)[6]+5
Damage2 - (2d10b1)[7]+5

[Librarilen]

While her fellow crew member appears to be suffering from a minor nervous breakdown as a result of combat's tension (though he is, at least, pleasantly on-key), Regia grits her teeth and decides it is time to reduce their enemy's advantages. As one of the pirates closes into melee range with her, Regia backs away again, and directs her flamer at him: she will reward his bloodlust with a burst of holy promethium.

Spoiler: crunch:

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move-and-attack, movement being directly away from the charging folks as best-possible.

[Vexing]

The Raider...
Lucius hears his call to arms echoed throughout the crew, chillingly amplified by the tunnel walls. Every rating joins in the charge whole-heartedly; not a soul hesitates, bolstered by the Gunnery Master's resolve and complete faith in their own righteousness. Who could stand against the will of the Emperor, after all? Throughout the boarding shunts similar cries for blood and vengeance erupt as men follow their commanders, determined to bring the fight to the dastardly foe. Silus finds himself joined up alongside a secondary wave of boarders arming themselves. Soon enough, he too is in the thick of it, trading shots and strikes with the pirate crew in the tight passages.

The fighting is surprisingly brutal. The Raider's crew appear to be a mix of seasoned voidfarers and renegade Guardsmen, many still in their PDF issue flak armour, all well adjusted to the rigors of shipboard combat. Explosive-rigged pressure hatches or booby-trapped corridors that vent oxygen set up for devastating ambushes; however, despite their greater familiarity with the ship and dirty tactics, the pirates seldom fight as a unit, instead breaking off into their own 'individual' combats. While an acceptable approach when raiding civilian ships or traumatized naval vessels, this lack of cohesion fails them on the defensive. Hall by hall, room by room, the enemy are cut off from support and destroyed by the measured, unified advance of the Malheureuse's crew. Eventually whole squads of renegades begin to surrender in the face of the Imperial's inevitable victory.

Little could be sweeter than hearing the warning call of a klaxon ring off las-scarred deck, followed by a frightened plea: "Gods above and below, lay down your arms! They're going to hole the drives!"

...and its Bridge!
"Gods above and below, lay down your arms! They're going to hole the drives!" The call screeches out of the numerous vox-ports along the bridge, though none of the men locked in combat with Regia and Jack's ratings pay heed. Galder lives, after all--they may die if they don't surrender, but they're sure to die if they do!

Regia ducks out of combat with her closest assailant, but not quickly enough to avoid a slash to her left leg. It slips beneath her armour--a mono edge!--but fails to effect any real damage. A spray of burning promethium answers the attack, washing over the pirate and leaving a crackling pyre in his stead. He's dead before he can manage to scream, skin bubbling and hair charring as the jellied accelerants seep beneath his flak. The two remaining swordsmen close as quickly as possible, darting around the cone of fire and Jack's two boltshots to draw alongside the Sister; her unexpected movement sets their charge off course, and they're forced to reexamine the flow of combat before bringing weapons to bear.

Their captain is incensed by the continued resistance, roaring a wordless challenge as he steps forward towards the door. The hand cannon rises and another booming shot whistles into the battle, striking Jack full in the chest; carapace plating cracks and shards of micro-shrapnel plunge into the gaps, drawing dark blood to the surface as the Knave of the Expanse finishes his verse. Perhaps recognizing the danger of the plasma gun (or more likely, leaving Regia to be picked apart by swords), Galder seems to be lining up a second shot on the ex-pirate with his advance.

Spoiler: Crunch!

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Galder moved forward by four meters (26m away), and took a shot at Jack which cost our friend two wounds after Armour and Toughness. The pirate Regia flamed is quite dead! His two comrades, one uninjured pirate and one lightly broiled, have used the Run action to drop into melee with her again. Jack remains out of melee combat, but he's only a Half Move away from either pirate.

As for the rest of the ship, the pirates have surrendered. In another round (so effectively one more NPC round of action), Lucius and Silus will arrive to help mop up. Technically shouldn't be happening, but making time a little plastic never hurt anyone.

[ChaosArchon]

Gaius grimly smiles, it seems the battle was won. "Boarding party, once you have finished up, do please ensure that the distress signal is no longer being broadcast."

Spoiler: OOC

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just realized how long it's been since Gaius posted, so making one right now and then might modify the post with more. currently checking up on the specifics of the battle

[Thragka]

Jack's song was cut short by the shot to the chest. He coughed, staggered, and spat.

"You naughty bastard!" he exclaimed towards Galder, eyebrows high and eyes a-twinkling. Taking aim at the pirate commander, he squeezed the pistol trigger again.

Spoiler: OOC

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Semi-auto at Galder. Pen 4.
ToHit62 - (1d100)[59] - One hit, I think
Damage1 - (2d10b1)[6]+5 = 11X
Damage2 - (2d10b1)[10], oof, shame I couldn't roll that first

[Librarilen]

Regia's sculpted visage continues an unbroken display of disgust as she catalogs the location of her near-injury: she will have repairs to make when this fray is settled in order to ensure nothing critical was broken.

She exults to hear Jack Solar's voice and can only partially register the possibility that he has struck true - good tidings, but she has more immediate concerns.

Her armour's sensors respond as a suite of variables are flagged, and her Wrath becomes of the silent variety, an air mask clamping itself over her mouth as she once again sets her flamer to the foe, these now close enough in addition to the charred husk of their bretheren to set off environmental fail-safes in her suit. Regia pays it - and her enemies' attacks - no mind as she replies with endless flame.

Spoiler: Crunch

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And Regia will fire on the two in melee with her. (1d10+4)[13]

[Vexing]

The Raider's Bridge
The upper hand gained by the Malheureuse seems reflected in the struggle for the bridge, with Regia and Jack's ratings finally driving back their demoralized foe. The struggle is now definitively a losing one; though the fighting continues, all the panicked energy which characterized the pirate's resistance has leeched away and been replaced by mounting dread, the leaden weight of their inevitably defeat slowing their sword arms and dulling their reflexes. They know their struggle is a doomed effort. As if to underscore that point, more ratings flood the raider's bridge--even in the dim light and the confusion of battle, the green and brown of friendly uniforms identify the men as reinforcements. Leading the charge from a side hall into the thick of it are Lucius and Silus, the two men having met in the earlier struggles aboard the ship and joined forces directly. The cavalry has arrived!

Both of Regia's assailants chop and thrust as she tactically retreats to gain spacing for her flamer, but fall short of contact. Though their will holds upon sight of reinforcements and the blaring of the call to surrender (unlike some of their lesser fellows around the area), stubbornness proves to be an...ineffective defensive against a thorough bath of promethium. The smell of charred human flesh fills the air as they drop screaming, scrabbling ineffectually at the flames as the Emperor's judgement consumes them; now three smoldering corpses mark the advance towards the breached door.

It is perhaps in keeping that Galder's final shot goes wide; Jack Solar's bolt, already in the air as the pirate was taking aim, does not. The diamantine tip strikes Galder in the left knee and--with a distinctly organic 'skelch'--mulches the flesh of that leg in a spray of gore. Eyes widen as the hulking creature staggers, and stomachs drop as he continues to lurch forward; Solar's keen bionic eye quickly picks out shards of armour plating within the ruin of torn skin and exposed bone, accounting for such freakish durability. The raider captain drops the emptied handcannon and surges towards the two nearest interlopers, a light foam already building around the corners of his brutish mouth as he howls: "Die! Die damn you!" The motor of his chainsword is engaged as he begins to build speed for a final, futile charge on the buccaneer and Sister's position on one good leg.

Spoiler: Crunch

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Galder has run out of shots, his most loyal (a relative term, to be sure) men are dead, and both of his hated foes are still alive. He's 23 meters away from Jack and Regia, but closing VERY fast despite his injury. Silus and Lucius are now in this combat, and act at the bottom of the round (right after Jack/Regia, before Galder acts again. Thank you for your patience!

[Thragka]

"Wouldn't be the first t'damn me," said Jack, squeezing off another two shots. "And I 'spect you won't be the first t'kill me, either."

Spoiler: OOC

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Pew pew. Semi-auto, Pen 4.
ToHit62 - (1d100)[61] - one hit
Damage1 - (2d10b1)[8] +5 = 13X
Damage2 - (2d10b1)[8] +5

[Librarilen]

"Our damnation is unlikely," Regia agrees, leveling her flamer at the hulking, wounded pirate with a steadiness bordering on casual disregard. "And your redemption, impossible. Know the price of betraying the Imperium of Man."

Fearless in the face of the brutish traitor's spinning chainsword, Regia puts her faith in the Emperor, and unleashes a final issue of his fury.

[Vexing]

The Raider's Bridge
Jack's bolt pistol barks once more, and another massive shell slices the air between him and the charging pirate. Galder twitches aside--with the uncanny sense afforded to gunslingers and the paranoid--in a shaven second, a loud peal splitting the air like a bell as the bolt arcs off of his armoured shoulder and explodes harmlessly behind him. Eyes full of hate lift to reassess the distance, shaking off the near impact effortlessly. Those eyes widen, and the bully's lips peel back as Regia steps forward, Galder howling his defiance as a curtain of fire sweeps over his frame and ignites him. It doesn't stop his charge, at least not initially; the musclebound brute barrels towards the two fighter's position, looking for all the world like a damned soul made manifest as a screaming pillar of flame.

Mere meters away, the Emperor's judgement catches up with him. The shouts and pained shrieks wither away even as his body gives out, toppling uncomfortably close to the two Command Crewmembers' feet. Gruesomely, the chainsword continues to struggle and spasm in the dead man's grip as if thirsting for blood, though its master is stilled forever. A cheer goes up from those present from the Malheureuse: "Huzzah! For the Emperor and His Saints!" The last of the fighting is truly finished.

All along the tight confines of the raider, your boarding crews begin collecting officers and other persons of importance, marching them to the bridge. The enemy vessel is scarred, broken, and blinded, its crew completely at your mercy.

[Q'telun]

Lucius paces back and forth in front of the captured "officers", if they could truly be called that. He keeps his hands behind his back, holding his pistol in his right. After a long time spent in silence, he stops in the middle of the group and faces the bound and kneeling wretches.

"Now, which one of you would like to fill me in on what's going on here?"

[Vexing]

The Raider
Surprisingly, it hadn't taken all that long to collect the various petty officers (or simply the best-armed bullies) manning the stations of importance aboard the raider vessel; in the end, eight men and women are dragged to the ruined bridge and forced into a line before the waiting Command Crew. Your boarding party explains that the reason so few command personnel survived the fight is that the renegades tried a half-hearted mutiny attempt...and Galder ripped out that heart minutes before Regia and Jack's 'cutters made their landings.

Bound and kneeling, the motley bunch are in no position to ignore Lucius' question. His first answer comes from the far left of the group; a woman with closely cropped brown hair and dark eyes sneers openly, revealing unnaturally sharp canines as her lips slip back. "You'll need to do better than that, kneeler. You could kill every one of us, and--"

One of her comrades caves immediately, mid-speech, much to her irritation: "We're here to salvage the wrecked fleet, but the rest of the operation is based on the orbital station around the planet in this system." He's a scrawny individual, with a peculiar tattoo of two four-pointed stars burned into his left cheek. The man's gaze lingers on Lucius' pistol, tongue wetting his lips as he continues. "The natives supply us with iron and their twists for free, and we strip hulls out in the rock fields for spare parts and weapons to be shipped to...wherever they need to go. I know more, but my condition is that she", he jerks his head towards Regia, "keeps away from me, and I get put down planetside."

"And what do you know that we don't?"

"Hey, Captain! I know a damn sight more than--"

The prisoners break into squabbling, trying to shout over the others to be heard and presumably spared the fate of their fellows. The lack of loyalty to one another turns the stomach, a disgusting display of cowardice and base survival instinct. The lot of them are terrified!

[Q'telun]

Lucius holds up a hand to silence the outpouring of information. When the assembled cowards have quieted down, he speaks again.

"The quality of information you provide here will decide your fate. I want to know everything that could be considered important, starting with the number of ships in system. If you attempt to deceive or mislead me, I will personally deliver you to the Adeptus Mechanicus for servitor conversion. Is that clear?

[Librarilen]

Regia is far too busy completing the Act of Deignition to look up at the man who singled her out - a credit to her piety, to be sure. She makes a mental note to speak with him later, though - someone smart enough to recognize the threat of faithfulness does not deserve the coward's misery of a long life spent in the cold darkness bereftof the Emperor's Light. Perhaps he can be convinced that a life devoted in service to the Patient Flame will rarely end at flamerpoint.

She has often pondered the value of a combat servitor, of course, but finds unblemished humanity a far more valuable resource in most cases. More versatile. More capable of pleasant surprises. She will ponder the man later. For now the Rites of Cleansing and of Refuelling must be attended to before she will be of further use to the command crew. The woman's hands continue their careful attendance to her weapon, and as well to the traitor Galder's impure chainsword, which will require much incense and purification before it finds service in her crew's hands.

She will wait to hear their captives' preliminary confession before she profers her services to aid the penitent - assuming the Captain wishes any of them forgiven.

[Vexing]

"Clear as triple-distilled 'sec!", one of the kneeling renegades offers immediately, "but we need to leave...and quickly." As the facts tumble in a rush from the prisoners, the reason for that warning becomes all too clear...

Spoiler: Tidbits

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Ships: "Three Phobos-class escorts and a Sword; Mala tossed more armour on them, but now they maneuver like drunken grox, so they assigned Galder to salvage in the asteroid field with this ship. The escorts are only armed with macrocannon and laser batteries, but the Sword has a lance for heavy combat. If you try to fight them head on, even your luck will run out...kneeler. Just try fighting four-to-one odds, even with a coward's ambush. That distress signal will have been heard, and it won't be more than a Terran day before they're out here, picking over the rocks for your blood!"

Mala Vahn: "Galder served under Mala. She's the brain here, some runaway official or noble from...was it Malfi? Or Scintilla? Where she came from doesn't matter as much as where she got to, though: now she's a lieutenant under Woluun, who's one of Karrad Vall's captains. Has a head for numbers and a mean streak wide as a Titan's stride. Somehow Onésime either charmed her, or she owed him for some other reason, but a portion of our take here in raw iron always leaves with men who represent him. They got on like a chapel on fire, so she won't be happy to hear that he's dead." A nervous chuckle. "And that you lot are responsible. Might even take the Sword to go hunting."

The Planet: "Throne take that place an' everythin' on it. The air tears yer lungs an' fights ya down to the ground, an' even if your shuttle lands it's cold an' wet an' dull. Stubby little trees an' swampy-snow plains--but the locals seem to make do, somehow. Weird bunch, think they're sufferin' the Emperor's punishment for summat their ancestors did an' obsessed with their 'redemption'. Bah! Wouldn't be worth spit if Mala hadn't won 'em over with her fancy wings an' some honeyed words. Now they mines iron, copper, anythin' they can find for us! Mala also gets 'em to fork over their weirdies and witches. Ships them out-system to Woluun, never see 'em again."

Orbital Station (and Moon): "The station was here long before we arrived, but it wasn't hard to reactivate some of the necessary systems. Human, we think. Its sensor arrays can pick up almost anything happening on the planet's surface, and Mala stores and catalogues everything we salvage there before shipping it off to Woluun's court or elsewhere. It has a powerful lance and defensive turrets, but it would be hard pressed to defend itself from a dedicated attack...like the one you and I will launch, right? Friend? Of course, she won't leave it unguarded. Then again, your assault here may force her to be on the offensive...hm."

"The moon? The moon is cursed. Oh, the air is breathable and there's clean water--pure and clear--but spending a full rotation there is a death sentence. The two survey teams we put down vanished without a trace, no vox hails, no warnings. The search parties vanished as well, no matter how carefully we planned the approaches or coordinated the contacts. Observation from the station reveals...nothing. Investigating was like trying to bottle smoke. Mala maroons those who disagree with her there and otherwise has nothing to do with it."

Salvage: "These are old, old ships, out here on the rocks. Older than any I've worked with. Everywhere you find images and ikons of the False Shepherd and his idiot flock", a wary look towards Regia, "wrought in precious metals and bordered by real wood. We've been spending months stripping the smaller vessels alone of anything worth using: armour plating, wiring, cogitators, plasma containment fields, Gee-Field cores and warp drives. And that doesn't cover the loot, those precious things, gold and platinum and all the rest that Mala takes and sends away to appease Woluun's appetites. Greed has made going slower than normal. We lose more to fighting and to Mala's paranoia than to the usual accidents, depressurization and security triggers. This transport vessel is our most recent endeavor and the largest of the ships. If you spare me--and me alone?--perhaps we can share in the profits we seize from those haunted halls. Mala already found a favourite toy, wings of gold and flashing light that carry her weightlessly. Yours, soon?"

"There's another collection of ships on the far rim of the star's gravity well, but we've been working inwards-out. Just as well, I say; here the ships are human, but the brief scans we performed while mapping the system indicates xenos construction in the other cluster. My soul is dedicated to He Of Cold Blood, but no voidsman would willingly walk upon an alien deck. She had sent a reconnaissance team, but they haven't communicated with us in some time. Curious..."

[Q'telun]

Lucius relays all of this as quickly and as clearly as he can back to the bridge of the Malheureuse and the waiting Lord-Captain.

With that done, he turns to the Sister of Battle. "Sister Regia, I defer to your judgement in spiritual matters. Is this bunch of cowardly scum worth saving?"

[Librarilen]

Regia blinks away the soft dazzle that's graced her eyes while the Mezoa-pattern's wick-core shrugs off its gorgeous red glow, and rises, holding it at-rest.

Whether Lucius realizes it or not, his question is a welcomed dismissal of her previous concerns. The scriptures are clear on matters of deliverance.

"The scriptures are rather clear on such matters." Regia admits, inclining her head down towards the captives. "But the path to follow them correctly is no easy one: a good soldier obeys without question, much as a good officer commands without doubt. If these would be not traitors but soldiers, then they will be so understanding that there are no second chances. Only Work earns Salvation, and they are in dire need of it. Even a man who has nothing can still offer his life. ....and they will. I would only accept their new conscription after a week of penitence to smooth away the imperfections of their illicit liberty - and then only under the strictest taskmaster you can assign, with explicit instructions that their lives are utterly forfeit." the woman looks across the line of them once again. "Save, of course, those who fear the pain which cleanses the body of sin, and wish the Emperor's Justice right now. Cowards die in shame."

Spoiler: Source of Holy Writ

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https://en.wikiquote.org/wiki/Warhammer_40,000:_Dawn_of_War#Start_menu_and_Comma nder_quotes:_Imperium_Thought_for_the_Day

[The Grue]

A little further down the line of the Malheureuse's officers, Silus clears his throat. "The way we used to do it, Sister - eh, before I signed aboard the Mal' that is - was we'd strip the ship of anythin' useful or valuble, slag her engines, and set 'er adrift with the crew that refused to join us. If they're deserving of His Mercy, we figured, the Emperor would guide them to safety. And if not the lucky ones would starve before the air turned stale."

[Vexing]

The look of calculating hope that had been creeping--albeit slowly--across the faces of the captured men and women vanishes in an instant, the moment when Silus' metal jaws offer up a more common sense solution. Immediately the bunch is back to begging for their lives; no new information presents itself in the streaming din of promises, threats, and bawling as dozens of strategies to secure safety wrestle with one another to be heard. One might begin to wonder if these creatures can really be called Men, given how quickly their resolve falters. Only one has managed to keep his cool: the man with the tattooed cheek. Keeping silent as his companions babble to all sides, he tries to subtly make eye contact with Silus as if to get his attention, while studiously attempting to avoid drawing Regia's eye. If the Master of Augurs gives even the slightest indication that he's noticed, then the man nods imperceptibly. Perhaps suggesting to come closer? He's still bound, and ratings stand guard over all the miscreants with lasgun and gauntlet.

Through all the din, the Command Crew receive two missives to their microbeads. One is a direct transmission from the Malheureuse, while the other comes from their men within the raider...

Spoiler: Malheureuse's Message

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"Sirs, Sister, we have a minor...ah...malfunction." The rating at the other end of the broadcast sounds as if he's picking a careful path over broken stone, tongue slowly rolling over his choice of words. "The Captain has seen fit to begin celebrating. W-Which is his right, with respect! But I'm afraid he's making himself of no use, now that he's found the last of the amasec. Please advise?" A faint cheer can be heard on the tail of that question, and the clink of glass on glass. "We tried to relay the information you retrieved but he doesn't seem to have heard us. Or much care."

Spoiler: Reconnaissance Message

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"Officers, this is Marine Pilas. We're the fifth team engaged in the sweep of this vessel, and..." She trails off, an enraged hiss escaping clenched teeth. "If I am permitted to suggest a course of action, I suggest that every living creature on this thing be shot and spaced, in that order. One of my men found something in a hold down here. It's some sort of blasphemous shrine. Like an animal's leavings! I've already shot three of these slugs for trying to stop its dismantling, but I hoped for further guidance."

[The Grue]

Silus' eyes meets the tattooed man; at his nod, the Auger Master steps closer, cutlass in hand, and wipes it clean of sticky gore on the shirt of the rating next to him.

"These lot don't seem to be goin' anywhere soon, Sister, if'n you and Mister Holt think that 'shrine' might deserve a good cleansing bath of Promethium." He sneaks a glance at the tattooed man to acknowledge his attention before continuing. "The men and I can see to things here 'til we decide for sure what to do with the prisoners."

[Librarilen]

Regia nods curtly, happy to both save face and leave the rest of the crew to interpret scriptures in a way more conducive to their current situation. She'll save her fuel supply for the heresies discovered below.

"Of course. I'll leave this in your most-capable hands. Mr Holt?" with surprising grace for one encased in thick armor, the woman heads after the profane shrine with brisk requests for the shortest possible route on her combead.

[Thragka]

Jack had kept quiet, arms folded, as his peers discussed what to do with the meek and wretched before them. He looked torn, now, as the Sister made for the door.

"Eh ... will you be needing any assistance, Sister? Or shall I ... keep an eye on this crowd?"

[Q'telun]

Lucius nods hesitantly. "The bridge is yours, Mister Silus. See if you can't convince the other pirates of our defeat. Mister Solar, if you feel that you can aid us below, you're welcome to join. Otherwise, your guns would be a welcome addition to the security of the bridge."

With that, he leaves the bridge behind the Sister, thanking the Emperor once more that she's on his side.

[Vexing]

The Raider's Bridge
As Silus draws nearer to the tattooed man, the captive strains to lean closer. He speaks quickly and clearly the moment the Master of Augurs is within earshot. "If you keep me alive and away from the flamer bitch, then I'll lead you to the main salvage Galder was working towards. I'm no fool; I know what's going to happen when your two friends get back, and I don't intend to die here. Save me, and you profit. Kill me with the rest of them", jerking his head towards his 'comrades', "and you'll be lucky to get away with anything before the other ships arrive."

"That's what you all want, right? A bigger cut than Onésime got? I can provide that, in spades." He keeps his eyes locked on Silus while the pirates closest to him redouble their efforts, attempting to throw their lot in with him.

The Raider's Hold
Pilas was as good as her word: something blasphemous and strange met Lucius and Regia's eyes the moment they entered the hold. In the far right corner from the door a grisly collection of bones and skin squats, seeming to exude a palpable aura of menace and ill intent. At first seeming to be a misshapen pile, patterns present themselves the longer a brave eye roams over it; strips of treated skin bear unwholesome and angular marks scattered at random, daubed in blood and filth; long leg bones have been lashed together with dried gut to form the frame of a crude seat; and dismembered arms (some with freshly rotting flesh attached) serve to prop up a figure in the midst of it all, a mummified humanoid body with empty sockets and a yawning, toothless maw. And everywhere--beneath the corpse's feet, supporting the frame, piled against the corner of the hold--are human skulls. Each has had a whole forcefully opened into the forehead with some blunt object, giving the blood-stained skulls the appearance of a third eye.

The ratings are keeping a safe distance from it at present, nervously watching the entrance to the hold and trying not to allow their eyes to stray back to the macabre idol. The Marine who contacted you salutes, jaw tight. "Praise the Emperor that you've arrived. Every moment spent near this thing courts damnation. I had thought it should be reported before it was destroyed, Officers."

[Librarilen]

A vicious Aquila of warding slices into the air beneath Regia's gauntlet as she studies the scene before them with a practiced air of what can only be described as rarified hatred. Truly, the Emperor gives His servants no finer tool in dealing with heresy than an urge towards Wrath.

"Truly? Then you are either blessedly loyal, or else tragically at fault, risking these men's souls. Every moment spent in this heretical presence is one spent in dire peril. I will attend to each of you personally in the aft hangar chapel when we return to the Malheuruse, to be sure your remaining here is a matter of devout duty, and not blasphemous curiosity. Now, stand aside and observe in obedience."

The Sister considers the heft of her fuel supply and the size of the object to be purged, brief calculations running through her head as she strides toward the throne, determined in her course. "Mr. Holt, do you have anything more substantial than a krak grenade on your person? I would prefer to subject this banality to a proper expression of His Holy Fury before consigning it to the blessed Flame."

[Q'telun]

Lucius pauses his recitation of the Litany of Profanity Under Your Breath So the Sister of Battle Does Not Hear. It had always been a source of great comfort in times of tribulation. "Unfortunately, Sister, I did not. I felt it unwise to use anything more potent than a frag grenade within the confines of these bulkheads. We can contact the Malheureuse and ask for supplies, if you wish."

[ChaosArchon]

Gaius continues his carousing until the last of the amasec runs dry. He stares dejectedly at the empty crystal glass and mentally files a note that one of the things they needed to purchase on a supply run would be more alcohol... any alcohol really. He then turns his attention back to the situation at hand, and takes a deep breath before replying... it would do no good for morale to have their captain drunkenly rambling over the vox. "Ahem, sorry for the momentary disruption in communication. How many of the enemy crew has survived?"

[The Grue]

The Raider's Bridge

Silus considers the raider's words. "And if you know where this prize is, and it'd be so easy for us to take, what stopped Galder from runnin' off with it 'fore we got here?" He leans closer, putting himself almost nose-to-metallic-nose with the man. "This wouldn't be some half-arsed scheme to lead us into an ambush, would it?"

At Gaius' crackling call comes through the vox-speakers, Silus stands back straight and speaks into his caster unit. "Koretsky here Cap, on the raider's bridge. Galder's dead, an' most of the senior officers ta boot. The men rounded up eight of the survivin' highest-ranked ones and brought 'em here. Still gettin' a head count on the exact number of survivors, but I'd guess it's not a lot."

[Thragka]

Jack had hung close to Silus as Regia lead the others on their expedition from the bridge, and positioned himself to overhear the tattooed man speak. He chuckled at the Master of Augurs's response.

"You're in no position to barter, lad," he said. "If you've got a prize to sell, you give us the information, right now. Tell us exactly what you're talking about, don't be dealing in games and riddles. And after, if it's as good as you say, then we'll remember to be grateful to you. If you've done us a service."

[Librarilen]

"No matter then. Time is of the essence." Regia assured as she adjusted her flamer once again. "We will deal with this as best we can now, and see if our devotions are sufficient. Hail the bridge and inform them of our situation, Mr. Holt. They should be prepared to send a lance at this location if our efforts fail."

Dropping into a steep kneel, Regia fearlessly took her eyes off the profane furniture and began the Rite of Ignition once more, whilst mentally focused on her Order's Litany.

The Fire that burns swiftest burns brightest / but the Flame that burns longest cannot be denied...

Spoiler

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Any rolls needed against heresy or for holy insight, boss? Else my fire is gonna fly when expositorally appropriate.