[The Lord Inquisitor]

Scene: The spaceport, just outside the cutter. Heading to Sandy's Shady Shack.

See description in the Office of the Administratum thread for a feel of the port.

They were the last to leave the cutter, and Alens' group had already disappeared around a corner somewhere. She could vaguely make out Kynia and Justinian threading through the crowded port. "Time to go and meet Lexilius, are you ready" She inquired, for the final time, of her two companions. Having the pariah so close was incredibly discomforting - she could already feel a headache starting - but she felt he may be necessary, in what was to come. In which case, she'd rather have him close, of course.

[Drake Dekko Yarn]

He looked out over the massive crowd of people. His bionic eye scanning through the spectrums, mostly small stuff except for the Arbites. He looked at the Inquisitor, and then took the lead out of the ship.

"Inquisitor, I believe it would be best for me to take point a few meters before you and Mr. Cartinor. About three or four. "

He turned his gaze back at the crowd.

"I'll be clearing an easier path for both of you to follow and, the distance will be good since I'll be drawing attention which you do not need. Not to mention it will be easier on you both."

His gaze returned to the Inquisitor and the Rune Mechanic. She was a woman he did not want to play poker against and the Priest had a hard face to interpret.


OOC: I'm hitting the hay. See you all in a few hours.

This post has been edited by Drake Dekko Yarn: 07 December 2010 - 06:16 AM

[Faelus Cartinor]

Faelus nodded distractedly at the Pariah. "Yes, that should be adequate. Both the Inquisitor's garb and my own will likely mark us in any case, but the less attention we draw the better."

Shifting his bag on his left shoulder, he fell in step behind Raquel. The damned flak jacket he was wearing under his robe was sitting awkwardly and it was not nearly advanced enough to adjust itself automatically. His physical discomfort was by far secondary to how uncomfortable the Pariah had made him. The man was starting to give him a mild headache that his neural augs could not properly counter, and the growled liturgy as he exitted the ship had thrown Faelus significantly off guard. The Enginseer's warning was expected and clear. Faelus wasn't even sure what the Pariah had intended. The liturgy was not unknown outside the sect, but reciting it at that specific time definitely had meaning. A warning? A message? He did not have the social aptitude to decipher what had happened. Was the message even meant for him, or for Travaaz. He wondered if the worldly seeming old Enginseer had been as thrown by the Pariah's action.

The Quest came before all though, and he intended to keep himself alive long enough to report all he was about to learn. The thought of combat filled him with eagerness. The months of design and refinement, the supremely taxing ritual to restore a machine spirit all others had deemed lost. All of it, about to come to fruition... A short pang of doubt filled him - had he triple-checked the redundancy of the third servo controller? Yes, he had. He allowed himself a ghost of a smile as he started running through the diagnostics routines again. While he was waiting for them to complete, he decided there was something else he could try.

*burst of static*

Spoiler

Toll the Great Bell Twice! With push of Button fire the Engine

And spark Turbine into life...

Those who would serve the Machine God would advise me to carry my satchel on my right

[The Lord Inquisitor]

Following the pariah through the slowly parting crowd, most of whom had no idea why they pulled out of the way of the pale giant, or why they felt fear and revulsion as he passed, Raquelia contemplated the events so far. But even more so, she considered what was likely to come - the meeting was meant to be straightforward, but a lasting impression on her foresight, like a dark cloud on the horizon...it may have just been the pariah's presence, but it seemed like more than just that. Something...significant.

The priest beside her was equally distracted by something - he had been unsettled by the pariah's words, and quietly spoken though they were, the Inquisitor had heard them too. Unlike the Faelus, however, she knew Drake's background. She still didn't know what it meant.

They had passed through the thickest of the crowd now, and were out of the port proper. The meeting location was a mere level above them, it wouldn't be long before they got there.

She trusted that Drake would find the way. Turning her head to the trailing rune priest, she said "So, Faelus, tell me something of your obsession with weapons." What would be a polite conversation starter for most people, or indeed amongst those of her more regular retinue, was, she understood, a nearly impossible to refuse question. Hopefully it wouldn't come across too poorly.

[Faelus Cartinor]

Faelus started slightly at Raquel's voice, releasing the bulk of his attention away from the diagnostics.

"Obsession, Lady Inquisitor? Aah, I suppose some would view it as such. It is merely my chosen field of specialization. I was raised amongst the batteries of a Vengeance Class Battle Cruiser and I always felt a deeper affinity for the Machine Spirits of The Cleansing Flame's great arsenal than for any of its other systems. Their spirits were... Purer, more focused if you will. After I was formally inducted into the Adeptus, my aptitude for ballistic systems became apparent and I was transferred from Enginseer training to the Rune Mechanics. Once I had completed my training I was accepted at the Collegia Titanica where I spend several years working on various research projects, all of which involved ballistic weaponry in some form or another. But all of this is in file that the Magos sent to the Lord Inquisitor. You understand I cannot elucidate in great detail on the mysteries of our faith."

[The Lord Inquisitor]

"Of course, the Cult Mechanicus is very careful with its inner workings, a secrecy long respected by all. However, you speak of the Machine Spirits of weapons being more focused, and this insight interests me, Rune Priest." She paused, considering her next words. "When I asked of your interest in weapons, you gave me a response, a personal response, that could not be found in the words of the Magos, and it is this I sought. You see, a psyker, I feel the energy of my mind when it enters my weapon - a pure, singular will, after a fashion. Do you think the two related?" The walking continued, Drake leading the way successfully past the security - even they did not wish to approach someone like him, despite the great unease he generated in their law-alert minds.

[Faelus Cartinor]

"Perhaps. The purpose of a weapon is singular and this is reflected in its Spirit. It exists to visit destruction on the enemies of its bearer. Other technologies can serve many purposes and their spirit's natures are divided accordingly. It could also just be an unconscious expression of your gift - maybe you see not your weapon's focus in times of combat, but your own. I am not annointed deeply enough in our theology to give an official comment. If it is indeed the Spirit that you sense, I would advise you to proceed with great caution. For the uninvested to delve our mysteries is Heresy, quashed with the full might that we are able to bear. Even for one of your... stature. Or perhaps even more so."

[The Lord Inquisitor]

"I said related, not the same, Faelus, do not be alarmed." Raquelia was smiling despite the tone. "It is an interesting possibility nonetheless, and you may one day be interested in pursuing it. Though I'll grant you, Force weapons are more of a focus for a psyker's power than a weapon in their own right." She then called ahead to Drake, "Take a left ahead, it leads to the elevator."

Ironically, this would not be the same elevator Alens had used - the construction of a hive city meant that it was rarely a straightforward task to move from level to level, except perhaps in the higher reaches, the most recent developments.

[Drake Dekko Yarn]

Drake turned left and kept walking through the parting crowd. It was like being a boat on the sea, except bow waves didn't trip over themselves do move away. He regularly back scanned with his implant to make sure he always had the Inquisitor and the Priest within sight. They seemed to be talking.
He came across some small scum who quickly flashed a small shank at him. Brave girl. He simply stared into her eyes and put on his best *I'm going to hurt you in unimaginable ways* face and she quickly went back into the crowd. It would do for now, of course any gangs with superior numbers would be harder to scare off. A problem for later.

The elevator itself came into view. There was a high density of people around it. There were several shafts available. Most began and ended on this level, not a good design since it meant transfers, a few were continuous through the whole hive. He angled for one of the continuous lifts since the lines were shorter, even if the wait was a bit longer, and the fact that there would be less people and as such less risk to the Inquisitor, the Priest and himself.

He pressed the descent button and luckily the lift was only 8 levels above, a few minutes at most to wait.
He leaned on one side of the door and looked back into the crowd. He made sure to be right next to the lift's console and ensure no one else came to use it. The Inquisitor and Priest had drifted back a bit, nothing serious, only about 10 meters away.
A few people eyed them as they walked, he guessed the Mechanicum didn't have a large presence here yet. No one did anything though, by what ever combination of factors.
The Inquisitor herself was impressive in stature, tall for a woman, which helped him keep an eye on her in the crowd. The priest had his helm and his robes and he'd recognize Mechanicus robes from hundred kilometers. They arrived slowly and positioned themselves on the other side of the door.

"I'd sure love to have *OOC: insert fake ident here for Mr. Malakai* 's re-breather right now. The smell is rather aggressive. Can't wait to get to the lower more closed environment levels."

The others just stared at him, as if surprised he could make a joke. If they thought sarcasm was bad, wait till he pulled out the terrible puns, he'd cause their heads to explode.


OOC: I'm off for a few hours. Also it seems we're in very different time zones.

This post has been edited by Drake Dekko Yarn: 07 December 2010 - 04:14 PM

[The Lord Inquisitor]

OOC: Yes, unfortunately.

When the elevator slid open, a few minutes later that had been accompanied by awkward silence, it was nice and empty - the pariah had done a good job of clearing a path. Now, though, they would be trapped together in as close a proximity as ever, and that was not going to pleasant for her at all. Pausing outside after waving the others in, Raquelia chanced to glance back along their route. A lone watcher, hooded, far away....but far enough to blend into the crowd. As she watched, the man turned and slipped away, the shadows of his hood preventing any visual features to be discerned.

Stepping into the elevator, she quickly relayed this information to her companions, "Not a good start, we're being followed -" a hand went to her head before she continued, "followed, that is, by at least one person. Likely a cultist from his garb." The pain was not simply a minor headache any more, not in these confines. Instead it had become more like a migraine, stretching throughout her body. She dearly hoped the ride was not long. "Going to have to...keep an eye out for more of them...this feels wrong." Raquelia was determined not to slump against the the elevator wall.

OOC: Quick couple of responses to that from you guys, then we're out and heading straight for the meet.

[Drake Dekko Yarn]

Drake forced himself as much against the opposing wall as he could. The Inquisitor was really starting to be affected. The Priest must also be feeling something but much less.
He began to concentrate, he hadn't had any training in regards to reducing his effect, though he knew it was possible, he would try anyway.
He recited hymns and prayers to both the Emperor and the Machine God while working his rotary between thumb and index.
Suddenly he stopped and began opening his coat. He reached in and grabbed a kind of necklace made of what seemed to be bone.

"Inquisitor, you might want to wear this for the duration of the mission, or at least when I'm nearby."

He tossed it to her to avoid getting any closer.

"It's said to have psychic shielding properties. I picked it up a while ago during one of my father's many negotiations. The fleet navigators didn't feel as bad around me when they had it. They felt ghastly but stopped suffering to the point of incapacitation. It should help.
Also while we're alone I might suggest that once in the bar I be set up about 10 meters away. It should help avoid any bad effects on you and Mr. Cartinor. Also should you feel like giving the man a good scare just point me out and I'll stare him down."

He returned to reciting hymns and focusing on his rotary for the rest of the ride.
Then stopped.
"Wait... We've been followed already. You're right that is off. It suggests they were aware that we'd be coming."
He looked at both companions. The Inquisitor still didn't look good and the Priest just seemed to be analyzing what was said. Good, few were as good at pattern analysis as Tech-priests.

"It was always probable that this was a trap. Now though I'd say the probability has gotten much closer to 1 than we thought. The time-frame may not be right though, since they may not have known exactly when we'd show up. We'll have to move as quickly as possible to keep them off balance. We'll also need to be far more paranoid."

The others seemed to be mulling over what was said. Well, the Priest seemed to be, the Inquisitor seemed to be mulling over what he said and fighting the desire to vomit. He hoped the necklace would help.

OOC: I'm going to sleep. See you all in the morning.

This post has been edited by Drake Dekko Yarn: 08 December 2010 - 06:13 AM

[Faelus Cartinor]

A Rotary? That went a long way to explaining Drake's earlier actions. Seemingly a believer in the Machine God, but the man was obviously no Tech Priest. Very unusual, although given his obvious effect on the Inquisitor he was far from ordinary. It seemed some clarfication would be in order. At another time, their setting and circumstances were hardly appropriate for a theological debate.

Faelus shifted uncomfortably and moved slightly further away from the Pariah. No choice but to stop the diagnostic routines and concentrate on mitigating the effects of the man's presence, else he would likely also become incapicitated at some point. It seemed unlikely Drake would have two of those artifacts, and their efficiency at shield a non-psyker was dubious at best.

Faelus placed his case on the ground and opened it, adopting an uncomfortable looking crouch beside it. A regular rising and falling of static emenated from his helmet, complimenting and balancing the litugies Drake continued to utter to himself. One handed, Faelus began to assemble the needler stored in the case with quick, efficient movements. "The preperatory courses at the Collegia placed great emphasis on scouting and advanced planning. However, they also exhorted the so-called 'element of surprise' and many of the Imperial Guardsman I interviewed during my research indicated that throwing caution to the wind and grabbing an opportunity that has been presented is in itself a plan. Marked as we are I do not believe we can be both prepared and unexpected. Given our contact's grounding here I believe haste would be our best course, but obviously I would defer to your collective experience." Standing in a fluid motion, he slid the needler up his sleeve butt first until he heard a series of clicks and whirrs. Seeing the effect it had on his companions, he continued to emit melodic bursts of static, reciting liturgies in techua lingua.

He glanced down at the arm now held stifly at his side. "Hardly inconspicuous or particularly practical, but better than nothing. I am not willing to rely solely on my other weapon at this juncture." he directed his gaze firmly at Drake. "I agree you should seperate yourself from the Inquisitor as soon as is possible. I believe you should continue to clear a path for us as we proceed to the meeting point with due haste. Once there, enter ahead of us and bring the full force of your.. presence... to bear. Any without conviction to remain should depart, which should reveal the disposition of our possible foes. If possible I will provide cover from without, else I will enter along with the Inquisitor and find a position with suitable space and cover while contact is made. My only concern is the lack of close range support for both myself and the Inquisitor. I would prefer to have been simply an observer at this meeting, with adequate time to prepare and research. It seems though that this will not be... feasible, should I wish to survive long enough to report my findings back to the nearest Lexmechanic."

Turning to face the Inquisitor, he enquired "My Lady, are you sufficiently capable to proceed?"

[The Lord Inquisitor]

She ignored the question for a moment. "I concur, with the proposed course of action." Raquelia managed, slowly slipping the necklace over her head. Experience told her that accepting this gift could be dangerous, but it was worth the risk. Without any assistance, being this close to the pariah again would be far too incapacitating to allow her to fight. She felt at least a bit better now. It was clearly of Eldar design, but that didn't matter right now.

"We will follow you to the meeting," she said, talking to Drake. "Then we can see who remains. If there are many, I will remove them with my power. If there are few, we'll take our chances. At the best, our contact has been compromised, if not outright turned, and we'll need to deal to him as well. Faelus, you will cover the exit - I have a feeling our pursuers will attempt to intervene in the meeting, or come to Lexilius' aid if things go sour." It was still hard to be this close to the pariah, and she was thankful when the doors opened onto their level.

"Let's go."

This post has been edited by The Lord Inquisitor: 08 December 2010 - 08:18 AM

[Faelus Cartinor]

They strode forth from the lift, the Inquisitor still looking shaken but visibly improving as Drake moved further ahead of them. A quick consultation of the information downloaded off the dataslate showed they had but a short distance to travel. Faelus held his arm stiffly beside him, hoping it was not too obvious how awkwardly he was walking. Trying to look around discreetly, he realised he had no way of telling if someone was following them or not. Study of crowd movements might be a field to mention to the Magos once the mission was complete. Luckily the crowds thinned noticeably as they approached their destination - probably due to surrounding buildings becoming gradually more destitute, although Drake's glaring probably also had something to do with it. They passed one urchin staring forlornly at a treat dropped in fear, debating how much muck he going to be able to tolerate.

Ahead of them were the remains of several demolished buildings, the rare open space a sharp contrast to the claustrophic areas of the hive they had encountered so far. Drake was ahead of them, about to enter the doorway of the lone standing structure at the far end of the field. 'Gwar's Demise' was scrawled above the dried skull of an Ork. At first glance the building seemed as run down as the surrounding neighbourhoods, busted windows patched over and patches of paint peeling, but the underlying structure seemed in good repair, much sounder than the majority of the structures they had passed on this level. "Our meeting point." Raquel nodded in response. "And they've obviously seen us coming. Someone has a lot of clout to keep such a large area free. We best be careful. Let's give Drake a few moments to do his work."

"Inquisitor?"
"Yes?"
"I will station myself to the right of the doorway with my back to the wall while you enter, in order to cover any approaches to our position. Should you require my assistance within, please signal the communicator three times.

OOC: I'm not sure what you have planned for this meeting, so I'm going to end things here.

[Drake Dekko Yarn]

Drake set a brisk stride from the lift and trusted Cartinor to keep up with the Inquisitor, he couldn't keep his eye on them now. He began scanning the environment. The powergrid was showing massive fluctuations, too much to be normal disrepair. Someone was tampering with it.
He kicked a piece of refuse and it skidded to a halt near some poor urchin. If a street child was alive here then someone had imposed a form of order.
A wide open space appeared and the bar was on the other side. He made a quick back check and saw that the Priest and the Inquisitor were about 17 meters back, no one seemed to be following them. Though if this was enemy territory they didn't need to follow. He scanned the open space. There were a few heat signatures, mostly rats, one was another child and one was a sleeping drunkard. Those last two could still be threats, he noted their positions. There were no spikes in the rest of the spectrum, though the UV levels were curiously low.
He arrived in front of Sandy's Shady Shack. Well named it really was a shack. The Ork head was a nice touch, if dangerous to have in the open. Orks...
At that point he heard several people inside vomit simultaneously. He'd wait about a minute before walking in, try and dissociate himself with that synchronized stomach clearing.
A few people left the bar, two of which had been sick, others just drunk and yelling insults to the room they were leaving. He took that as his cue.
He looked back, the Inquisitor and the Priest were making small talk to stall, a false argument of whether or not this was the best place to get a drink on the level.

He walked in.

By the Omnissiah! The smell!


A lot of eyes turned his way as he passed the door. Many of them suspicious, none overtly hostile at the moment. The room wasn't full but it wasn't empty either and there was a good mix of people, not all poor scums. Suggested either a popular spot or a meeting place. Only three tables had groups of four or more. The lighting was adequate, most of the furniture was recycled and cobbled together, well cobbled together. He'd seen some upscale themed lounges on other worlds that didn't have solid tables. It was aesthetic in its own way.
The smell was a strange mix between sweat, mold, closed circulation, smoke, alcohol vinegar, urine and fresh vomit. He assumed he was responsible for that last one.
He didn't stand there looking at everyone he walked straight up to the bar and cornered the barman. He was a Squat.

"I want whatever they (those who had thrown up) weren't having."

"Tap's out." The barman was intently looking at the shaker he was cleaning.

He raised an eyebrow: "It's midday and you're out?"

"Yes."

"I doubt that."

The Squat finally looked at him, though not in the eyes, with what must have been his most irritated look. "You smell like trouble and I don't want you here. This place is still standing, don't need falling down now."

He finally turned his full gaze onto the barman.

"You're right I do smell like trouble and you seem to angling to have some." The man leaned back unconsciously. "Now if you give a pint of some passable swill I'm going to find myself an empty table and drink. It's been a long bloody day and I don't intend to spend the rest of it sober. So your choice: trouble and no money, or no trouble and a quiet brooding patron to go with the rest of them."

The barman scowled but pulled out a glass and filled it from a tap. Put it on the bar.

"Thanks. Mind starting a tab, it's going to be a long afternoon."

"I'm taking payment upfront with you."

"Fine, how much?" He made sure to stare the barman down while asking the price since he was sure to get swindled if he didn't. The man charged half a credit more, not bad.

He took his drink and went to find a table in a well lit area against the wall. He then waited for the Inquisitor to arrive. A few people left, about 4 more, others made sure to be looking anywhere but at him. He concentrated on his pint with a sour expression, trying to look like some one who had a rough day. He rubbed his gloved thumb on the edge of his glass and and brought a drop of beer back near his waist and waited for his poison scanner to verify that it was clean. It was.
He took a swallow and began playing the waiting game.

OOC: I'll leave it there for now.

This post has been edited by Drake Dekko Yarn: 08 December 2010 - 05:20 PM

[Faelus Cartinor]

OOC: Sandy's Shady Bar... Completely forgot the bar had been named before :facepalm: Nice save. Gonna wait for Silencer to give us some direction, it sounded like he had a definite vision of what was going to happen.

[The Lord Inquisitor]

OOC: Excellent, all the threads have been running quite nicely it seems.

Raquelia was feeling recovered as she moved away from Faelus. Hopefully, Drake had found himself somewhere far from their intended meeting point to sit. The rune priest would keep their backs guarded, at least, and hopefully Drake's presence had thinned the number of patrons inside. As she reached the door, one or two more people stumbled quietly outside - alcohol and the repulsive presence of a pariah didn't go well together, it seemed.

Inside, her eyes scanning the room. More people had remained than she had hoped, with at least fifteen patrons situated about the bar, a dozen of whom were in clumps. She quietly muttered a curse in the name of the Emperor then proceeded to ignore the barman and head straight for her contact. He sat at a table in the far corner, attended by two underworld thugs for bodyguards. The man's head was shaved, and he was missing at least one finger that she could see. His gaze was hooded, and his pale skin bespoke a life spent within the dark lower levels of the hive, but the man was focused on the mug in front of him, and didn't look up until she was right at the table. "Lexilius," she said, taking a seat. His nervous start was not a good sign.

"I-inquisitor Raquelia...so nice of you to c-come on short notice." His stammer was a worse one, but not entirely damning. After all, he was talking to one of the most powerful individuals in the sector. The two bodyguard-thugs made to move forward, no doubt intending to relieve her of her weapons.

"Don't." She said, adding her will to the instruction. The two men, heavy-set and muscular, stopped in place, their blank looks mirroring one another as their brains tried to work through what just happened. Smiling politely at Lexilius, Raquelia got to the point. "You had information on cult activity for me, Lex?"

"I- uh, that is, yes, inquisitor, yes I have information on the cult that operates in this hive." The two guards were slowly recovering, but they'd backed up a couple of steps. The displacement caused by the ensuing conversation, as well as the trauma of psychic imposition meant they thought they'd already done their task, but couldn't recall exactly what they'd done.

"Go on...and speak quickly, Lex." She didn't need to check where Drake was seated. Even from here, he was a negative space in her mind, radiating nothing...but at least he was away enough not to affect her powers too much.

"They set up here a few years ago, and have g-gone undetected by the a-a-authorities. Dealing in the usual things, of course, icons and f-forbidden t-texts." Raquelia held up a hand.

"You said in your communique that they had only been active for five months, and had been hunted by the local Arbites. I don't like discrepancies, Lex." The man's eyes bugged slightly, and he stammered a few false starts.

"W-when....I mean...I m-meant..." Abruptly, his voice changed. It grew deeper, more self-assured, and it lost the stammer. Raquelia sat further back in her seat. "The cult has been here longer than that, inquisitor." The word was spoken in a tone dripping with sarcasm. "It has been here for so long, without detection, smuggling, preparing, abducting, killing and recruiting. It is large. Far larger than a few, five-month neophytes and their master. Now, little inquisitor, you die!"

The sudden twist, the change in manner. The gloating, insulting tone. Even as he spoke his final words, Raquelia was diving to one side. Movement, everywhere, as the remaining patrons rushed about - some, it seemed, were merely stubborn. But at least ten of them were cultists, as they drew weapons from their clothing - autoguns, maces, axes, a laspistol here or there...one even had a bolt-pistol!

All this in bare seconds from Lexilius' roar. Except it wasn't Lexilius. Runes had appeared in blood upon his skin, his fingers mutating into knife-like talons, his body writhing, growing larger, and small horns bursting through his skull. Rolling, Raquelia keyed her vox, ignoring the subtlety of merely coding it, ignoring the channels, and screamed: "DAEMON-POSSESSED!" It was all she had time for, as the cultists opened fire, shredding furniture and fleeing patrons alike. She had drawn her force sword, and it sang as she exited her diving roll to engage the nearest cultist. She hoped Drake and Faelus would survive this...

OOC: OK, so basically what we have here is a write-your-own-combat scenario. I'm not going to assume what you guys do, except that obviously you aren't going to be able to take on the possessed Lexilius by yourself - that's going to take all of us. Let's assume he's calmly (and arrogantly) watching the combat for the moment. Everyone else is free game, but remember there are only ten of them, it's fairly close quarters, we don't want to hit each other (and preferably not too many of the fleeing scum...even though they're scum, lol), and unless some more come from the street (which there very well might be, I leave that up to Faelus) you've got to give each other room to be at least a bit 'heroic'.

This post has been edited by The Lord Inquisitor: 08 December 2010 - 10:01 PM

[Drake Dekko Yarn]

The change in the man's tone and volume was clear from across the room. He took another swig from his pint and sent his hand into his pants.
He got up and threw his glass onto the nearest cultist, catching the man in the back of the head. He removed his hand from his pants and activated his Powerfist in mid motion and backhanded the man on his left. He felt the skull crack and partially vaporize under the shock.
A cultist turned towards him. A woman he assumed was a prostitute, if not whoring herself out to the warp, charged him. He spat the beer he had in his mouth in her face then rammed his Powerfist into neck. The crunch sound it made was audible and very satisfying.

"And I thought you'd have a tough throat."

The witticism almost cost him his life as he saw the reflection of a focusing lens from the corner of his eye. The las bolt singed his hair and upper forehead. It stung like mad. He dived under one of the most polished metal tables and kicked it up.
The man he'd nailed with his pint got up and began looking around for him. He had an axe in one hand. Drake kept low and pulled his bolt pistol from under his jacket. He fired.
Torso erupted as the man went down unable to scream due to a rather serious lack of lungs.
A bullet of some kind ricocheted off the table to the left of his head. The sound left his ear ringing. He shifted to his right and pushed the table with his back to angle it to block the shooter.
It was not the smartest move he'd ever pulled. He came face to face with a cultist with a bolt pistol. The man's eyes were already on fire, and suddenly more hate filled them. He hated when that happened. He rolled forward as the man squeezed the trigger. The table was spun from the explosion. He felt a small piece of shrapnel lance his left calf, nothing too serious. Or at least it wouldn't be if nothing touched it. Fate decided otherwise. As the table spun the edge caught the end of his left leg.
He focused his rage on the man he had landed in front of, the bastard with the bolt pistol.
He clamped his Powerfist on the man's knee and brought him down. The patella simply turned into a sponge within his grip. The man fell onto him. He rolled on top and crushed the life out of the man by pushing down on his chest with the Fist while staring intently in the cultists eyes. The man's last scream was one of utter despair and terror, he felt his false gods abandon him.

"Your soul is mine now Heretic!"

He made the last push and he felt the internal organs simply squish. He grabbed the man's jaw and ripped it off. Lifting the now limp body up, he used him as a make shift shield and charged a now horribly terrorized cultist who had just witnessed his comrades death. He rammed the man but hit him at the wrong angle and spun off into a mess of chairs and tables.

"Shit."

He felt a very intense burning sensation on his back and the telltale smell of burning flak armour. He spun and threw a chair in front of him. It was blown apart by autogun fire. Wood splinters lodged into his face and neck, luckily his organic eye was untouched. He backed into the mess and pulled two tables in a slightly triangular arrangement between him and his attackers.
Parts of the table became redhot from las blasts and slugs were hitting hard.


His back was burnt nicely where the las pistol had hit, luckily it didn't feel debilitating. It would hamper his movements and fighting capacities. Meanwhile he peered through the chairs and fired off a few bolts. None found a target, but it forced the two cultists to duck behind their own cover. He saw Raquelia rolling and dealing with the two thugs the Possessed Lex had. A third cultist was angling towards her from behind. He fired at the third one, missed, then was forced to retreat as a las beam melted a chair leg.
He hit his Vox:

"Raquelia we need to switch positions, I can't deal with too many of them at once. Besides don't you want him to feel like his head has just been put into a giant bell?"

[Faelus Cartinor]

OOC: Been a busy day, meant to have this up sooner.

Faelus put his case down against the wall and began to roll up his left sleeve, carefully tucking it in on itself. The first twist revealed the muzzle of the needler, the second the stubby barrel of a bolt pistol. Further twists exposed a bulbous metallic forearm, servo joints, support struts and a confusion of pipework, attachments, ports and other arcanna. Faelus veritably grinned, his arm had been a reward, and a hard won one at that. The level of technology it encompassed was far beyond anything someone of his rank would normally have access to, let alone permission to modify. The arm swung smoothly to the horizontal and he moved into a crouch, servo joints locking into place with audible clicks. The needler whirred about his wrist into a perpendicular position and he leaned into it, bracing it snugly into his shoulder. He activated Lazarus and his left eye began a tracking cycle in tandem with the bolter, moving between the doorway and the field. His right peered intently down the sight of the needler, still grinning like a fool. "Let the research begin"

Lazarus immediately picked out two targets and assigned them low priority, then resumed scanning. Faelus began chanting, priming the various systems he needed to monitor and clearing his mind. Collecting data on so many systems at the same time would be taxing, perhaps he should have asked to be assigned to a larger group after all. He doubted the other groups would be in such a high impact situation at such an early juncture and he would have preferred to have played a secondary role in his first engagement. As it was he already itched to check the performance of the servoes at his elbow and wrist and ignoring the stream of data that Lazarus was feeding him was proving to be a severe test of his willpower. The fact that he had managed to coax the machine spirit out of the wreckage of a light scouting vessel's secondary weapons system still amazed him, the fact that it now resided in a nexus in his left hemisphere filled him with pride and an ache to pore over it's statistical output. Perhaps they were being overly cautious and the Inquisitor would shortly emerge bearing information to relay to the rest of their party. This was perfectly sufficient for an initial testing cycle.

The thought was dispelled before it was even half completed as a deep rumbling sounded from with the Shack, followed by glass breaking and the sound of gunfire. "Bolt Pistol, medium calibre, firing pin is three percent off optimal." Faelus glanced through the doorway, hoping to catch a glimpse of the blast pattern to confirm is analysis. A series of target alerts from Lazarus snapped him back to attention. Four high priority hostiles had appeared halfway across the field. Where the cultists had emerged from was beyond Faelus, he would have to examine the area in detail. The fact that they were running towards him, robes flapping and power weapons held high was however a slightly more urgent matter. "Clear the chamber and release the safety, may your rounds fly true" Faelus activated the nexus in his right hemisphere.

Time slowed to a syrupy crawl, one cultist seeming to float gently forwards mid-bound. Faelus sighted the nearest and gently squeezed the trigger of his needler. A silvery glint sailed through the intervening air on a narrow beam of amber light, impacting near the edge of the small blister that had begun to form above the cultist's jugular. "Impact point approximately one millimeter deviation from optimal, adjusting carrier frequency and narrowing focal range. Small knobs near the trigger were adjusted and Faelus sighted again. "Target distance twelve meters, approach delta one-three degrees x, minus one over two degree y." A silvery glint once again arced out, flying precisely though the smoldering hole in the robes above the cultist's heart. "Adjustments yield significant improvement in accuracy but six percent decrease in initial velocity." Once again the series of small dials were adjusted. "Target distance eight meters, wind velocity increased by two kilometers per hour,direction unchanged. Glint. "Target distance four meters, switching scope magnification to one point one times" Glint.

The last cultist slid into Faelus's legs, still twitching. He deactivated the recording nexus and released the needler from its locking point. Standing over the corpse, he keenly noting the respiratory and cardio-vascular responses to the needler's toxin. "The subject exhibits obvious distress, paralysis is evident although higher brain function is still above two zero percent. Necrosis has formed around the impact point, spreading at approximately ten centimeters per se-"

The bolter at Faelus's wrist barked, a flash of scarlet catching the corner of his eye as he spun. The patron who had stumbled out of the shack was now missing an eye and most of the back of his skull, although he retained a firm grip on his laspistol as he toppled over.

"But the recording nexus was deactivated... I just missed all-"

Before the full impact of the now lost data truly came home, the comms unit squawkedthree times.

[Drake Dekko Yarn]

Raquelia was to busy to respond. Slightly problematic...
He saw a cultist run out the door and his head explode. Well at least he knew the priest was alive and well.
A small patch of heated metal exploded in one of his tables. A piece of scorching metal started fusing to his flak armour. He pulled out his knife and scraped it off.
He was pinned and the Inquisitor was going to be up against three people at once.

Another red spot blast to pieces in his table. They'd come up with a good strategy of getting through his shelter. He stowed the bolt pistol, he'd need better accuracy for what was coming.
Taking a chair he slowly angled it in the opening that he had used to try and shoot the third cultist behind Raquelia. Nearly instantly it was blast to pieces by autogun and las blasts. He dropped it then stood and threw his long knife into the cultist with the autogun. It nailed the man in the nose. Unfortunately his partner was quick. A las beam singed his chest from right to left as he twisted to try to avoid being hit. The burn was bad, he wished he had brought the carapace armour from the cutter. His flak was now full of holes.
He sat there firing through the holes in the table. One shot found its mark, at least partially. It blew off the man's off hand. His opponent ducked. He heard a sound of frying bacon and a rather intense yell.

"Squeal piggy."

He used the time the man was taking to scream to get up and make some clearer shots on Raquelia's attackers. Angled on the woman trying to stay on Raquelia's back. He hit the trailing end of the woman's coat as she spun. Luckily it detonated the bolt. The blast burnt and ruptured her backside causing her to fall to the ground, but she wasn't dead. He also noticed the man he'd backhanded was slowly crawling around and mewling. He was trying to find a weapon and was dangerously close the bolt pistol his friend had dropped.
Drake tried aiming, his back and chest muscles protesting the idea. They got their wish, a las blast about 40 cm in front of his face caused him to let himself fall back behind his cover. He peered through a hole and saw that the man with the missing hand was still conscious and had resumed firing on him.
The burns were really starting to get painful, he guessed his opponent had some kind of drug to keep him up after having his hand blown off and cauterized.
Bad situation, that and Lex himself was still standing. Untouched. Somehow he had to get near him, but he was pinned.

Then he heard a triple burst on his vox.

This post has been edited by Drake Dekko Yarn: 09 December 2010 - 05:52 PM