[DW] Blackthorn/Swordhand: Episode III - The Sundered House

[That Beyond the Light]

{ Place Holder }

 

Awaiting the interaction with Incariel.

 

Ekieo has some dealings with the Inquistion but not of this level. 

Ekieo has some knowledge of the past events but is looking at his sergeant with intrigue as to the full going ons.

Edited March 4, 2021 by That Beyond the Light

[apologist]

The sight of the shuttle on the lightloom gave him a feeling both fond and regretful. Lounging on the seats, he let his mind drift. He half-found himself in the cramped bay of a similar shuttlecraft, crammed in alongside the other Members-Ordinary, their bulky green-and-yellow pauldrons bouncing and scraping with every buffet or movement. The Deathwatch's flight-vehicles were considerably more comfortable; their bays designed for Astartes rather than half-heartedly and inexpertly adapted.

 

Some comforts of home are quite the opposite, Yeng thought with a smile.

 

Grist's arrival brought him back. Standing and moving to join the others, he peered at the Inquisitor. An arresting-looking figure, Yeng mused. Almost swaddled in the mottled robes and rags, the seated Inquisitor reminded him of the enthroned dead-and-alive figure that the others seemed to picture the Emperor as. He absently tapped his bracer in thought. 

 

Idly inspecting the servitors, he looked back at the Inquisitor, sitting... alone...

 

...No; not quite alone.

 

He blinked, heavily. There was another figure. Of course there was. Suddenly acutely aware of himself; of his actions and movements, he felt profoundly and unaccountably uncomfortable.

 

He shook his head and listened intently to the lone Inquisitor's wracking cough. His mind turned, as always, to remedies. The cough called bronchodilators and mucolytics to mind; he thought of the terrible empty-lunged rattling that was ever the result of the Dindi's miasma-weaponry.

 

No, he thought. Not alone. 

 

Frowning, he brought his hand up over his natural eye, and fixed the gaze of his augmetic on the servant holding the cloth to the Inquisitor's mouth. His eye locked; tracking her as inimicus. He dismissed the glyph. Why had he unconsciously marked her as an enemy?

 

Wary, he nevertheless raised a hand in response to Haldane's barely-there greeting, and listened to the Inquisitor's query. Looking left and right to his comrades, he shrugged and stepped forward. 

"Dark Lantern was a battleship. Rammed the Saint Orestes and then raked the animal-craft we boarded. No expert, but the painting of her on Syndalla was a good likeness. Has Lantern been located since returning to the space-between-stars?"

[Petragor]

Chaka had never met a blank before. He is not sure what they are exactly, but he has heard of their existence, even indirectly protected them once when a vessel transporting them was escorted by the Serenkai. But they were always kept safe in their ship’s fortified heart, rather than risking their valuable lives with Chaka and the boarding crews. And yet, meeting one in person it was hard to consider it- no, consider HER to be valuable. But Chaka is a Space Marine, and though her aura of emptiness is unsettling, she is still a servant of the Emperor, and Chaka knows there is little point letting his emotions cloud his thoughts in this matter. Chaka’s duty is to protect the Imperium, it- SHE is a part of the Imperium, and an important part at that. Therefore, Chaka’s duty is to protect her as he would any other Emperor-worshipping man or woman. End. Of. Story.

 

As Yeng speaks to the Inquisitor, Chaka attempts to distract himself from the blank by looking at pict-grabs of the ship the Inquisitor arrived in. It possesses a raider-sized hull, Chaka isn’t familiar with the exact class but it is clearly an Imperial design, probably commandeered from the Imperial Navy. Certainly not as well-armed or armored as a Light Cruiser, or even a Frigate, but it was fast and comparatively inconspicuous. Though with the memorable silver hull, Chaka believes the speed is more important to the Inquisitor than the stealth. Though that does raise the question: Why is he in such a hurry?

Edited March 4, 2021 by Petragor

[Lysimachus]

It was strange, Titus thought, as he surreptitiously inspected the Inquisitor from one of the Strategium's shadowy tiers as the members of the original Blackthorn and Swordhand gave their answers. That such a frail form could be the resting place of power enough to end entire worlds. Any of the Astartes present could crush him without raising the beats of either heart, but they would not. Few men or women had the mental strength, the sense of duty and purpose required to gain the Inquisitorial Rosette. Such resolve had to be respected.

 

The Stormbringers had worked closely with several branches of the Inquisition over the millenia. Their pragmatic and decisive approach to war had made them a useful weapon for those who were similarly able to focus on the greater goal, the survival of the Imperium itself. A handful of Inquisitors, new to their role and still full of optimism, had caused the Chapter some… difficulties… in the past, but older and wiser heads within the various Ordos had invariably prevailed. One did not cast aside a well made tool. Titus instinctively knew which of these types Grist would turn out to be. He grinned savagely under his helm.

 

Whatever his frailties, he is no bleeding heart conscience to the Imperium. This one has a mind as sharp as a wyvern's jaws.

 

The Stormbringer also looked over the Inquisitor's retinue. Haldane was much as he had expected based on the Kill-Team's reports from Syndalla, made almost forgettable by her company. Almost.

 

The other, shaved and tattooed, made his flesh creep under his armour. It was an unusual feeling. Titus knew that he himself made others, especially mortals, uncomfortable. It was a useful tool when he needed something from them. But this creature evoked a sense of utter disgust in him. He found his muscles tightening in response, readying him to lash out at the slightest hint of provocation.

 

With a slow, calming breath he forced his attention back to the Inquisitor. Whatever the abilities of the she-thing behind the old man's chair, he reminded himself, they were just like his own fearsome visage. Only a tool. The Inquisitor was the hand that controlled the tool. Whatever the appearances, whatever his senses told him, Grist was the real threat.

[Komrk]

The Kill-Team had performed well during Vorkys' drills and exercises as well as showing a number of candidates with high personal initiative. Along with Achillion he had run the squad again and again through nearly every possible scenario. The training was beginning to wear as much on his mind as on his body when the great bell tolled calling them to assemble in the Strategium. The assembly was on behalf of an inquisitor of the Ordo Xenos. He recognized the Captain of the Xenocide and greeted him cheerfully. Shipmaster Rubio was a highly competent captain and managed to resist both groveling and acting superior in the presence of Astartes. Vorkys often found his disdain for mortals as a collective difficult to reconcile with the teachings of the Emperor, and he found solace in recognizing Rubio as "one of the good ones."

 

As the Inquisitor entered on his throne carried by servitors, he could only resign himself to the inevitable.

 

So it's one of those inquisitors. Meddlesome, full of themselves, and can't be bothered to do any of the work themselves. These are the inquisitors that get more of us killed because it fits their righteous zeal.

 

It was the inquisitor's companions however that piqued his interest. As they entered the room, he noticed a change in Achillion's body language and he seemed to be in some discomfort. Vorkys suppressed a wry smile inside his helmet. He had heard tales of those with the ability to cancel out the powers of the warp and the woman with the shaved head must have been one. While Achillion was a capable leader and had earned his respect, he certainly still did not like the Codicier and his condescension towards himself and his chapter's way of war. Perhaps this could serve to humble him some, but he did not hold out hope.

 

When inquisitor Grist spoke of the mission at Syndalla, Vorkys relaxed a bit and made sure to just sit back and pay attention as they spoke. According to Yeng he was inquiring after a battleship that was lost. This would likely have to do with their next assignment and he already began running the scenarios through his mind. Chaka Embe's proficiency and experience stood in the forefront of his mind. Still, he was getting ahead of himself. The nature of the mission must first be discovered.

[Steel Company]

The old living skeleton of the inquisitor made Tyber feel stick to his stomach, if only for the power he wielded at the expense of others. This… thing and other like it have been nothing but trouble for him and his chapter, as his eyes landed on the Interrogator Haldane, Tyber dipped his head in acknowledgement of her, if only due to her standing with them towards the end on that world.

 

The sack of bones aired a question to those assembled, “But I would ask those who fought in the defense of Syndalla to speak now. Tell me what you know of the Dark Lantern.”

 

Tyber felt that pull again, something about that ship held answers to unasked questions for him, taking a moment to center himself he spoke up, “My brother by choice, Akkad, discovered a painting of the vessel in the governor’s palace in a hidden alcove, by all accounts it appears to be a crusade era craft. Later I was inspecting the library of the palace and found a tome bound in gray oily leather, it seemed very out of place in a room full of gold, opulently bound tomes, and just spoke of wealth. I know that I read it several times, yet I can recall nothing of it, aside from a sketch of the vessel. When we boarded our strike cruiser, I turned over the tome to Brother Librarian Montesa, hoping that he might be able to learn something more from it than I could.”

Edited March 4, 2021 by Steel Company

[Commissar Molotov]

The Inquisitor nods as Yeng speaks.

 

Interrogator Haldane steps forward, inserting a cartridge into a port at the base of the hololithic projector. After what the Techmarines among you might consider a perfunctory display of obesiance to the projector’s machine-spirits, she depresses a rune, and the display changes to a recording from the void-battle above Syndalla. The scrolling text at the bottom of the image identifies it as footage captured from the Deathwatch Strike Cruiser Xenocide’s auspex arrays.

 

You see again the looming bulk of the Tyranid bio-ship, harried by Imperial vessels of the Syndallan defense.

 

You see again the Dark Lantern tearing into real-space, trailing corposant warpfire. It heaves itself free of the Immaterium like an ocean predator emerging from the surface of the water, spearing through an Imperial escort that cannot move out of the way in time.

 

As the trailing halves of the escort spin lazily away, you see again the weapons batteries bristling across the Dark Lantern’s flanks rippling with bombardments that batter the hive-ship.

 

Petragor (because I know you'll ask...):

It is likely that your comrades in Swordhand that fought at Syndalla may have remarked upon the Dark Lantern. Your familiarity with vessels of the Imperium allows you to draw the following conclusions:

 

- The vessel appears to be a large and powerfully-built vessel, of typical Imperial manufacture. If it conformed to typical displacements utilised by the Imperial Navy, you could consider it to be a Battleship.

- Your understanding of Rogue Trader Dynasties helps you understand that such vessels are typically heavily-modified, boasting weapons configurations wildly different from the standard orthodoxies of the Imperial Navy.

- The vessel is heavily-armed and would pose an extreme danger in any void-battle.

- The vessel is capable of acts of extreme skill - or insane recklessness. The Lantern has been observed translating in and out of a planetary system entirely too close to planetary bodies and stars. It seemed unaffected by the so-called “Shadow in the Warp” that would normally affect psykers and Navigators.

 

 

In describing the Voice of Thunder, these are my previous posts:

 

From Page 34, when Akkad discovered the hidden painting of the Dark Lantern in Governor Orlai’s chambers:

Then you notice it; a brick within the fireplace surround that stands out from its surroundings. You reach out, and the brick grinds with an audible click. Above the mantel, a panel in the wall slides aside. You see a painting of an Imperial cruiser, barbed and dagger-like, backlit against garish stellar phenomena. Upon the frame you see a brass panel labelled 'THE DARK LANTERN.'

 

 

 

Beneath the picture, you see a sword and a pistol mounted to the wall. Both are well-made, with the skill of an artificer.

 

The painting is impressionistic in a way that makes you feel almost queasy; in a way that makes you think back to the shifting tides of the Maelstrom's edge. Still, though, you are able to make out details. It bears the jutting prow so characteristic of Imperial vessels and the ship seems to the standard cruciform shape of the Imperium; the muzzles of heavy weapon batteries jutting from its flanks. Engine clusters flare blue-hot as the ship churns through the void. There is little in the painting to provide a sense of scale, but from your experience it seems to be a Grand Cruiser of some kind.

 

From Page 69, when the Dark Lantern appeared out of the warp:

An image appears on your helm-displays, super-imposed. There is no sound, but you make out the now-familiar form of the Tyranid bio-ship. Plasma spurts from huge cannon-limbs, hurled towards the Imperial fleet. It is clear from code-tags that this is a feed direct from the Xenocide's auspex arrays. Static clouds the image momentarily as space itself seems to judder and ripple; great glowing rents appear that speak of the Immaterium and seem to leave you sickened even through your helm’s auto-senses. Interference causes the visual to momentarily freeze and jump apart into blurred image blocks.

 

The sounds of confusion over the vox turn to panic and horror as realisation dawns upon the fleet. The sound of voices and ship’s guns swell in the background.

 

++What in the Emperor’s name..?++

++Pull back! Pull back!++

++Aethetic dissilience… aetheric dissilience…++

 

The skin of reality stretches, then finally punctures as the knife-like prow of an Imperial vessel tears through into existence, trailing crackling tendrils of warpstuff that dissipate in space with the rainbow sheen of oil on water. The ship is monolithic and looming, crested cathedral-esque towers nestling upon its back. Its engines flare as it heaves itself into the material plane like an ocean whale beaching itself upon dry land. Some of you recognise this ship immediately. You saw it once, upon a painting that rendered it with what you now see is startling accuracy.

 

The battleship dwarfs the Imperial vessels that scatter before it: you see one of the frigates escorting the King of Kings cleaved in half by that murderous prow, its shields buckling and flickering before collapsing, the two halves of its hull turned aside as chain reactions burst along its engine housings. The ident-riunes mark it as the Saint Orestes, now just a crippled hulk tumbling in the void.

 

The flanks of this new interloper bristle with countless gunports that even now shudder with rippling barrages, directed at the Tyranid bio-ship. The explosive impacts of macro-weaponry bloom across its scarred hide, visibly making the titanic creature rear backwards to deal with this new threat.

 

Alarms shrill as the torpedo's limited cogitators calculate that the trajectory has been ruined - that this unexpected motion has thrown you from your targeted landing site - before the roar of the torpedo's final-stage engines drowns out all other sound. The torpedo shudders alarmingly around you, slowing as though passing through deep water. You are thrown against your dampner harnesses as the hull rings with the sounds of thousands of tiny impacts. You feel rather than hear the melta-arrays at the torpedo's prow cutting through chitinous armour. Explosive bolts blow, smashing the access ramp down with enough force to push away any final obstructions.

 

From Page 84, when Captain Rubio described what the Dark Lantern did whilst Blackthorn and Swordhand boarded the bio-ship:

Rubio's gloved hands unclasp; in them, he clutches a data-slate. It is clear that he has been anticipating your question. He taps a few runes, and the three-dimensional strategic maps on your helm-displays update to show the Xenocide's auspex recordings of the mysterious battleship. All of you watched as the vessel tore through the veil of realspace, detonating the Saint Orestes - but your assault of the Tyranid bio-ship meant that you lost sight of it.

 

"The vessel translated from the warp far too close to the centre of the Syndallan system. No sane Navigator would allow such a translation; the risk of catastrophe would be too high," Rubio's voice is grim. "The Saint Orestes was torn apart by gravitic shear as it appeared."

 

You follow dotted paths showing the Battleship's course, icons showing massive clouds of ordnance resolving as red-marked Tyranid craft swarm around this unexpected interloper, only to be wiped clean from the void by massed broadside batteries. You see Imperial vessels scatter before it, attempting to avoid the same threat.

 

"It concentrated its fire on the Bio-ship. My lords..." There is a moment's hesitation. Nothing more. You can forgive the Captain that. "My lords, it appeared to prioritise the Tyranid swarm-creatures that were targeting your boarding torpedo. Its gunnery patterns were coordinated to allow your Kill-Team egress. Once you had completed insertion, it disengaged entirely from combat and returned to the warp."

 

You see the truth of the Captain's words, as the dotted line terminates abruptly, leaving as quickly and mysteriously as it arrived.

 

Greysight staggers, clutching a guard rail. The words he speaks are ringed with certainty. ‘The ship. This Dark Lantern, it bears ill tidings. Where is it going?

 

"The astropaths cannot say, my lord," Rubio answers. "The sheer psychic presence of the Xenos hive-mind confounded their abilities. In truth, it should have prevented the battleship from doing half of what it did with such accuracy."

 

The Captain looks past you all, at the shattered hulk of the bio-ship.

 

"Now the warp-shadow is clearing, but I am told that tracking the route the vessel took will be almost impossible."

 

"I fear you have uncovered a grave threat to the stability of this sector," Grist says. "The Dark Lantern was a vessel in the service of the House of Sunder, a clan of Rogue Traders who were among the first to chart the stars of this area of space. The Sunder Dynasty claimed hereditary dominion over many of the worlds that would grow to form the Dalthus Sector. They grew rich on their conquests, delving into the void and further from the light of the Emperor."

Edited March 4, 2021 by Commissar Molotov

[Petragor]

Chaka returns his attention to the conversation at hand as the Dark Lantern is mentioned. He has seen the reports and pictures of the vessel, and been equal parts intrigued and unsettled by it's mystery. He looks to the Inquisitor as he states his observations of the vessel.

"A Rogue Trader ship. Those are often solitary, but even more often well-equipped. There are even some which are rumored to contain components or crewmembers that would be considered heretical. Is it safe to assume that such a thing is the cause of the Lantern's unusual movements considering that the inquisition has taken interest?"

[Commissar Molotov]

"Astute," the Inquisitor says, and his eyes seem to gleam. "Rogue Traders as a breed are afforded certain allowances due to the nature of their calling. But the Sunders were dogged by accusations of heresy and degeneracy for centuries- even if my peers in the Holy Ordos were unable to corroborate them. This vessel has, I am certain, been outfitted with xenotech. This by itself is reason to ensure we locate the vessel." Edited March 4, 2021 by Commissar Molotov

[Mojake]

Achillion thought back to the radical Inquisitor he had previously served alongside, memories of the strange spear he had wielded against the Dark Eldar coming to the fore. The Librarian had his reservations about fighting alongside one who would bear xenotech, but couldn't deny its efficacy. Despite that, the use of such tools was undoubtedly heresy, and he had heard that the bearer of the weapon was taken out of action by the Ordo Hereticus some years later.

 

Achillion spoke aloud, his voice even more strained than usual in the presence of the blank, the words forced through clenched teeth.

 

"Have you any leads on House Sunder, Inquisitor?"

[A.T.]

The presence in the air as the inquisitor and his retinue entered the room was palpable, the being beside him unnatural ... a witch? Atratus has stood in the presence of many psykers but this felt different, alien, though the woman gave no outwards appearance of xenos blood.

 

All matters of combat and defense from their time on Syndalla has been recorded in detail, no doubt the Inquisitor knew already of anything they might report. Why ask a second time? Some matter that seemed trivial to an Astartes that might not to an Inquisitor, or to a psyker some memory or phase that might shed light on their divinations just as Swordhand had looked to Cartomancy. Was the inquisitor looking for a symbol or impression that would not have merited note.

 

He recalled the meeting, Desiatos coat broad enough to hide a painting... perhaps. The delegates of the mechanicum secretive in their search for technology. The general, the governor, all with access but too obvious for an Inquisitor to have not considered. Akkads departure and return...

 

"A bolt shell". Rousing from his memories the Raptor looked towards the Inquisitor, "Brother Akkad carried one at his belt, it was not there before the loss of the painting."

[Commissar Molotov]

To the Codicier, the Inquisitor's answer is plain: "The Sunders destroyed themselves nearly four centuries ago. The Dynasty consumed itself in internecine conflict. Petty squabbles erupted into open warfare as kin turned against kin, trying to claim the warrant that was the source of their power. Every extant branch of the family fell to mercenaries and bounty hunters, until the survivors of the Dynasty clashed in a grand naval battle."

 

At Tyber's admissions, the Inquisitor leans forward in his chair, the robes parting slightly to reveal more of his emaciated frame.

 

"I would see this text, once we are done here."

[Steel Company]

"As I mentioned Inquisitor, I gave the text to Brother Librarian Montesa. I have not seen it since." Tyber responded almost robotically, "He should be able to see to it, if you wish."

Edited March 4, 2021 by Steel Company

[Ancient_Sobek]

Pyke listened as the Inquisitor spoke of the phantom ship and questioned those who had encountered it. The thought of an imperial vessel tainted with xeno-tech sat ill with him. What kind of madman would trust the fate of himself and his crew to the duplicitous nature of alien engineering? The hubris was almost as damning as the heresy of such a notion. Clearly this abomination of an Emperor’s holy warship would need to be destroyed before it’s foul corruption could spread beyond this region of space.

 

The inquisitor was another riddle. Even after 5 decades of service to the Watch, he still found it hard to fully trust these imperial agents. This one appeared frail and sickly, but time would tell if this is truth or a bit of theatre. The presences of the blank also raised questions. He had encountered a pariah once before, but understood that their  deviant abilities fouled witch-sight. Was this blank here out of custom for the Inquisitor, or was he hiding something?
 

Pyke’s expression soured as he continued to listen.

Edited March 6, 2021 by Ancient_Sobek

[Commissar Molotov]

Mojake: I am just in email communication with Noctus, but my current assumption is that Montesa will have surrendered the greyskin text into some sort of secure storage on Azurea. Once I've got an email back you can respond accordingly, but you might wish to pop in a placeholder to respond to Tyber.

[Mojake]

"Brother-Sergeant, I can confirm that Codicier Montesa surrendered the tome to the vaults of the Librarius." Achillion states to Tyber.

 

The Librarian then turns to Grist. "The knowledge of the Librarius is, of course, at your disposal, honoured Inquisitor." He tries to keep the venom from his voice, this being a rare occasion where his disfiguration actually assists his intentions.

 

The Librarius' mysterious halls were the most well-kept secret in all of Azurea, even Watch-Captain Diocles could only enter with permission. To be forced into offering up its guarded secrets for the sake of politics angered Achillion; alas he was but a tool in service of this flaccid bag of meat. 

Edited March 7, 2021 by Mojake

[That Beyond the Light]

Ekieo as he always did kept himself stood off to the side of the seating in the grand strategum, still with a good over view of the room.

Ekieo had only heard of this ship in a mythical sense. Tales of its sudden almost god like appearance and then vanishing back into the warp, but tales they were only. To hear that these tales could actually be held in truth did not surprise him. He has seen his fair share of myth become reality in his service with the Death Watch, encountering Xenos of origins that are still unknown or held secret by the vaults of the Inquisition, to keep those that do not need to know of the true horrors that they face. Better they be myths that true manifestations of the Imperium. 

 

He glances over at Tyber as he is in discussion with the Inquisitor. Tyber seemed agitated by the presence of this Inquisitor and his answers were short in essence. It was not like he had something to hide, Ekieo surmised that it must have been a past encounter that had caused the current thick air.

 

Ekieo turned back to the gaze of the Inquisitor, squinting as he tried to work him out, unfold his true intentions and reveal the forthcoming actions. All because something did not sit right with this matter, but when does it when the Inquisitor's are involved.

 

He continued to listen to the proceedings with intrigue and intent. Where will this go and what will be expected of us he thought. 

Edited March 4, 2021 by That Beyond the Light

[Deadass]

Boros’ mind was on high alert as soon as the inquisitorial retinue had entered the strategium. The newly issued heavy bolter was not with him, but the weight of the chainsword and pistol clamped to his waist assured the Devastator that he had ample means to dispose of any interlopers. They-

Interlopers?

He frowned. Opinions of the Holy Ordos among the Angels Revenant were certainly controversial, but nothing that warranted such an instinctual reaction of pure hostility. No, the reason was not that wisp of a man in front of him, and so Boros directed his attention to the figures that followed in its wake. The two misshapen oafs that had carried Grist into the room were no threat to them. Swordhand alone could have handled the mind-wiped servitors with ease. It would not be the Interrogator either - according to Montesa, Adrielle Haldane had proved herself an ally during the Syndalla Deployment. She was resourceful, certainly, but bore the Astartes no ill will.

There. A scalp, featureless but for snaking lines of foreign scripture. A dress that fit poorly into their sea of sable power armour, and an aura of sheer otherness that seemed to keep everyone bar the Inquisitor himself at a distance. Boros knew not just what made the woman appear so inherently repulsive, but neither would he stand her presence for much longer without an answer. He made a mental note to ask one of the assembly’s veteran members about her nature. The Doom Eagle Helgrim, perhaps; or Codicier Achillion. The witch-mind in particular seemed to take poorly to the mortal’s proximity.
 

+++

The Dark Lantern. This was another name his brothers had mentioned when they brought him up to speed, and neither their lack of information nor its harrowing appearance above Syndalla boded well for the nature of Grist’s presence on the Watch-Station. When he revealed the vessel’s origin in the House of Sunder, Boros found himself taken aback once more.

A whole Rogue Trader Dynasty fallen to strife? What manner of treachery is this?

“This vessel has, I am certain, been outfitted with xenotech”, croaked the old man. “This by itself is reason to ensure we locate the vessel.” That would be it. Grist wanted the Deathwatch to rout the Lantern, to drive the traitor ship before them and wipe its blight from the face of the Galaxy. He would get the opportunity to honour the sacrifice of his brethren. Thus, the Revenant could barely contain his indignation when Blackthorn’s Sergeant Tyber began discussing the whereabouts of some hide-bound book with the Inquisitor. Surely, this was a matter they could discuss once they had been appraised of their mission parameters? Boros wanted - no, needed to know when and where he would be allowed to serve again!

“What is it you would have us do, Lord Inquisitor?”

Only the turning of several heads in his direction made Boros realise he had asked aloud. He was almost certainly speaking out of line, in the presence of five superior officers, no less. Still, it was too late to back down now. Grist’s eyes were upon him, their haziness belying his intensive scrutiny. Boros continued, hoping to at least convince the assembly of his query’s worthiness.

“Forgive my candour, but it seems unlikely that you made the journey here in person for but a book and a handful of questions.”

Edited March 6, 2021 by AHorriblePerson

[Necronaut]

Helgrim stood alongside the rest of the command staff as the inquisitor spoke with the various members of Blackthorn and Swordhand, willing his fists to remain unclenched. He looked sidelong at Achillion, and wondered what torture the mere presence of that... thing must be causing his Brother-Codicier.

 

To think that such dregs are defenders of the Imperium. To think that they would bring such filth into this holy temple.

 

He turned back to regard the ancient and gnarled inquisitor, his hacking cough interrupting his slurred drawl. Each cough caused Helgrim's features, what remained of them, to twist in disgust, a horrifying sight in itself which was mercifully hidden behind his skull-mask.

 

Still, the tenacity of that old mollusk is commendable. Even as his life-force gutters out, he works to safeguard the Imperium, and that is worth some measure of respect...

 

+++

 

He listened, patiently, as the inquisitor and the veterans of Syndalla conversed.

 

Well said, Brother Boros. What do you want of my brethren, inquisitor? Tell me where to direct my fury, and get off of this watch station!

Edited March 4, 2021 by Necronaut

[adesro18]

The sight of the inquisitor was baffling to Atreus maladon. He had little experience with the ordos Xenos or the inquisition at large, but he came from a world where only the strong survived and this strength was rewarded with service to the emperor. To see such a pitiful thing like this to wield such power in the imperium was baffling, it defied logic to Atreus. But sometimes the emperor works in mysterious ways, and strength comes in many forms. The null that accompanied the inquisitor lord was unlike any other experience Atreus had yet. He was no psyker, he was not attuned to the warp like some but could feel her presence nonetheless. A chill in the air accompanied her, and a sort of pressure weighed upon his mind, making his thoughts almost slower. The feeling was difficult to process, perhaps he was spared a fraction of it due to his augmetics. Something he would consider later, but the Codicier must have been suffering greatly. Atreus ventured a look over to the Librarian to try and read how he was taking this assault on his sixth sense.

The mention of the black lantern piqued the interest of the Techmarine, he had reviewed some data slates regarding the last deployments but to hear the account in person from his battle brothers would be an exceptional and valuable experience to be sure. But for what reason had the inquisitor lord come in person and not simply dispatched an agent? Where some of the battle brothers suspect or complicit in some nefarious affair? Nothing could go without suspect, especially with the recent betrayal in the empire, the taste of which was still bitter in the mouth of Atreus. No one was above suspicion in these times.

Edited March 6, 2021 by adesro18

[Commissar Molotov]

At Boros’ words, Diocles steps forward.

 

"The Dark Lantern is an unknown quantity, and therefore a threat - to say nothing of the sheer power such a vessel offers those who control it. We know nothing of those who command the vessel, nor what their motives are. That such a vessel might have unsecured Xenotech only further underscores the importance of the situation."

 

The Captain depresses a key on the hololith. The footage of the Dark Lantern dissolves, replaced by a cartographic display of the stars that comprise the Dalthus Sector. The identifier-rune signifying Azurea’s location pulses, appended with the sigils of Blackthorn and Swordhand. Another press, and the Kill-Teams separate, moving across the sector.

 

“Watch-Sergeant Kol, your Kill-Team will be assigned to the Strike Cruiser Xenocide. You will travel to the Baltarian Abyss,” Diocles says.

 

“The site of the Sunder Dynasty’s final conflict,” Grist affirms. “And where the Dark Lantern was supposedly destroyed.”

 

“The Abyss is a dangerous place.” This from Captain Rubio. “Gravitic shear that shatters planets and plasma storms that tear ships apart.”

 

“Ascertain the truth of what happened there,” the Watch-Captain continues. “The situation is entirely unknown and you must be prepared for any eventuality. Codicier Achillion will accompany you in this endeavour.”

 

"There is one other matter," Grist interjects. "That of Captain Desiato."

 

Here, Haldane speaks: "It appears the Captain misrepresented himself during the defense of Syndalla. He is not a Rogue Trader; he is nothing more than a minor Chartist Captain plying his trade across the sector. The fact that he has consorted with the Aeldari only deepens our suspicion. It is likely he - or his allies - know something of the Dark Lantern."

 

Diocles addresses to Tyber next.

 

“Watch-Sergeant Tyber, your Kill-Team is to travel with Inquisitor Grist towards the sector core, to the hive-world of Meggdon Prime. You are to assault the holdings of House Desiato. If you can find the Captain or any of the Aeldari, you will capture them for interrogation. If not, you will acquire any evidence so that we can determine the next stage of our campaign. Chaplain Helgrim will accompany you."

[Petragor]

Perfect. A ship-board assignment, something Chaka is used to. Hopefully a good way to begin his service anew after the extended period of stasis. Investigating a starship graveyard in a hazardous region of space would be dangerous, but Chaka is certain he and his squadmates are up to the challenge, not to mention the capable crew of the Xenocide. Chaka has heard good things about Captain Rubio's leadership, and any serfs serving the Deathwatch are likely to be as elite among their peers as the members of the Killteams are elites of their respective chapters.

"I will not deny that travelling the Baltarian Abyss will be treacherous, but Emperor willing, His light will guide us in our service. And I look forward to the chance of working with you in the field Captain Rubio."

Edited March 5, 2021 by Petragor

[Komrk]

"Understood, Sir. I assume that whatever official records of their final battle will be available for review, no matter their veracity?"

 

Investigation work. Much less finding the truth of a long forgotten naval battle. It was far from the glory, that honor having been given to Swordhand, but if the inquisitor speaks the truth it is just as important as assaulting the holdings of an admittedly unimportant mortal. The unknowns bothered Vorkys more than he let on. A ship reported lost in battle, and a storied battleship at that, one not accustomed to simply vanishing. Possible Xenotech of unknown origin. Potential ties to a chartist captain? He wasn't a fan of walking in blind and much less so leading his men in blind. 

 

"Captain Rubio, we'll be putting our lives in your hands once again."

[Steel Company]

Tyber squares his shoulders as his lips compress for a moment before he says in a tone that seems devoid of anything, “By your will Captain.”

 

Inwardly he seethed at this assignment, both a chaplain and working with a cowardly sack of bones that hid behind a bastardized mark that belonged to one of a few mortals that held the respect of his chapter, Malcador. Slipping his helm back over his head he allowed himself a moment to express his feelings on his face once the seals locked in place. He added over open vox, +Blackthorn, it looks like we get to go and exact a pound of flesh from this traitor to the throne. I had known something was off with him when I met him.+

[apologist]

Yeng and Chaka shared a glance as the Captain gave his briefing. As they were dismissed, the Celestial Lion approached him and slapped him on the pauldron in celebration.

 

"Void-walking, Apothecary-Gentle!"

 

"Just so, Embe. Mana from the Divine?" The question was left hanging as Thorvald barged past. 

 

"Bah – starsailing!" he grumbled to the world at large, "Leave that to the Navy; I say." Yeng called ahead to the Space Wolf as the squad continued to disperse.

 

"I would have thought you would relish a voyage into the unknown, You of the Hammer's Hand." The Wolf turned, and shrugged. 

 

"I relish a task with a purpose. Voyaging to the arse-end of the spiral arm to look at a hole is not how I wish to spend my days."

 

The Lion caught up to the Wolf and threw an arm around him, leaning his head in.

 

"Firefights or not, mdogo, I have a suspicion this assignment won't prove as relaxing as you fear."

 

"I am counting on it," interjected Yeng. "Our time on Xenocide was curt. Longer voyage will let us limber: and as the odes say–"

 

"Not your forbanndet odes, Yeng," Thorvald moaned, "Shiptime is torture enough without your brand of poetry."

 

The Gatebreaker's face split into a broad grin as the three fell into step. 

 

"It seems, Embe, that we have found He of the Hammer's Hand's one weakness – riddles!"

Edited March 5, 2021 by apologist