41K RPG : Into the Eye

[Pcm979]

"There it is." Pater said, leaning against the wall. He called on the Warp to invigorate himself. "The Warpgate." It hadn't been that hard to find, really; How Vidor's men had overlooked it was a study in incompetance. "I'll walk you through setting the charges." He panted to the Astartes, who nodded and began his work.

[SirNitram]

"With no offense, Lord Inquisitor, I can set a meltabomb." Malkamar grunted as he quickly began affixing the devices to the Gate. "Third time. Third fucking time I've had one of these so close I could touch it, and third fucking time I don't get to work out how they blasted work. Story of my life.." He was rambling. He back into combat, even if he wasn't being shot at this second. His senses were accelerating and his mouth was running, as it had taken to since his exile began.

"Gonna strand some dangerous, lunatic fuckers in here with us.. Better than letting them get away, but I'm gonna be bleeding by the time this ends.."

[Pcm979]

"Only if they want you to." Pater commented unhelpfully as he moved out of the way. "You can blow it up any time now." He said once he was out of blast range.

[SirNitram]

Malkamar immediately got clear of the blast radius and hit the detonator. "Okay. We're now in a ship full of Eldar who are dedicated to killing us, but with no way out. Is there a plan, or do we just kill anything with odd Xeno-readings on the scopes?" He spoke, once the echoing detonations died down.

[Pcm979]

"They could have additional webgates on board." Pater admitted. "We can not outfight them, and outgunning them is risky at best. One is immune to my Psychic attacks, and none of the ship's personnell stand a hope in the Warp of defeating any of them." He laughed, a bizzare sound coming from his mouth, made even more bizzare by the vox-distortion his suit provided. "It brings back memories. Follow me." And with that, Pater curled the warp around himself and set off, the crackling aura surrounding his Halberd intensifying as he pushed his senses to their limits, trying to discern what was taking place.

[SirNitram]

"Outnumbered, outgunned, doomed, no hope of victory.. Yea. Takes me right back." Malkamar grunted as he followed, rounding each corner with the Bolters up. "I don't know shit about Harlequins. You know anything beyond 'Can kick our asses'?"

[Pcm979]

"Not surprisingly, we know very little about them. We do know that they bridge the societal gap between the Craftworld Eldar and their Piratical bretheren; They have fought with us, against us. They have even fought with Chaos and the Tyranids, so long as it serves their inscrutable aims." Pater felt the Eldar in the distance; And something else. Gix. His eye snapped open.

"Lord Gix is in danger. We must hurry."

[SirNitram]

"My experience is more Exodite heavy..." Malkamar grunted, pausing at the declaration. "Time to double-time it." He muttered, as combat stims started to flow into his system.

[Cynical Cat]

The psychic art that the Imperium of Man labelled as daemonology dealt with the Chaos and the interaction of warp and real space. Itwas both difficult to employ and dangerous to the user. Even a practitioner as skilled in it as Jolan Gix did not casually employ it.

He had already teleported with no preperation, sliding through the warp to appear at another place in the blink of an eye. That took its toll on an inquisitor who was beginning to feel the strain of maintaining several other powers. His warp enhanced systems registered the presence of wounded Harlequins on one side and charging Harlequins on the other.

He reacted with the speed that had saved him more than once. Another quick teleport was impossible, even if that had been his first instinct. Even with enhanced speed and senses, engaging one Harlequin in hand to hand would be extremely challenge. Multiple would be almost instantly fatal.

His telekinetic shield collapsed and quick silver reflexes failed as he fed the power that was maintaining them into a blast of emerald witch fire that filled the corriodor. The flesh of the Harlequins burned to ash and was blown away. Blackened bones and motlen goo fell to the scorched deck.

A wave of heat washed over Jolan as he staggered around the corner, away from the line of sight of the wounded Harlequins. He bounced a grenade around the corner to discourage pursuit. He had survivied the confrontation, but they had gotten past him.

[The Necrontyr Messenger]

They were quite honestly, irate at the loss of their brethren. Without their seer to dampen the effects of human's powers, they were no match. Sprinting and jumping, they joined the Solitaire and the seer in the infirmary.

The Great Harlequin tilted its head to one side, and looked curiously at the seer.

I hope you have a plan now, it sent, though of course its language was more complex than simple gothic, this has cost us.

Yes, I felt. But if what the farseers believe is true, and I have no reason to doubt, then the success of this mission is worth all our lives.

And did Arquellia succeed?

The secondary plan may work still, but the first was foiled.

The Great Harlequin frowned beneath his mask, Then we should ajourn to the rim?

Yes, if our masque is not yet played out, then we have reached an interval. We must tarry no longer...

At this moment, the muffled 'crump' of melta charges could be heard.

No longer! the shadow-seer repeated, it is here!

I trust we have the wraithgate? inquired the leader. At that moment, the psykers aboard the ship, and indeed, across the system, could feel the emergance of a massive fleet from the immaterium, mere hours travel time away.

One of the remaining troupers nodded, after a few moments of absurd searching of pockets among the entire group, an incongrous jester's hat jingling as it did so and began working.

[Pcm979]

As Pater charged around the corner, he thought he heard a voice... But it was faint, and his powers were entirely bent towards simply keeping himself on his feet for their next encounter. As he rounded it, he saw Jolan. The man looked like he'd been put through hell. If hell was defined as close combat with the Eldar elite, Pater supposed they'd both had a taste today.

"Jolan." He said, reaching a powergloved hand out to assist the other man. "They're gone." He half-questioned, half stated. The tang of a wraithgate filled his mind; As he'd suspected, the Eldar had brought alternate means of escape.

[Cynical Cat]

"Yes," Jolan replied. "I have to check on Gard. He was near the prisoner when they attacked. He hasn't responded to his vox."

The inquisitor strode rapidly to the prison. The doors and corridors were undamaged, the guards vigilant and in good health. They let the two inquisitors inside. Gard's rigid body was next to the now empty machinery.

Jolan checked his friend out. "Fast acting paralytic. He should recover. Probably used so that they could pick his brain with telepathy for information on how to remove the warlock from the apparatus without killing her in the process."

[Pcm979]

Pater sighed, a deep rumble through his helmet's vox. "They used a portable wraithgate. I was afraid of that." He was crouching in his nonstandard suit, feeling the room with his senses. He stood. "Well, there's nothing to be done except pick up the pieces." A low, sardonic chuckle. "It's exactly like old times." His emergency Cyberleg creaked as he shifted his weight, and he willed himself to stay mobile for a little longer.

[Cynical Cat]

"Phase field generator to breach the cell," replied Gix. "No mess, no fuss. No chance of accidently killing the warlock. They knew exactly how to do it. And less messy than that Adraxian mess where we first met. Your opinions?"

[Pcm979]

"They sent an entire Troupe after one Warlock." Pater mused. "Even by Harlequin standards, an elite Troupe. They knew the ship's layout. They knew what they would encounter. Even the Eldar would not commit such a force unless the Warlock was very important indeed."

[Cynical Cat]

"The warlock was probably the right hand woman of a farseer. Just before the breach, she gave me a possible reason for their intervention. I was just confirming some of the information before bringing it to the rest of you. I had sent Gard down to make sure the eldar survivied so we could question it again." Jolan paused for a moment.

"The warlock said that the Ruinous Powers would be strong enough to corrupt the Tyranids if they entered the Eye. Even whole Hive Fleets."

[Pcm979]

Pater thought it over. "An interesting hypothesis." He concluded. "We shall have to discuss it under more appropriate circumstances."

[Cynical Cat]

"That was my intent. I have no direct experience with the Eye and Tyranids are simply not my field of speciality."

He touched his vox. "Medicae to the sell. See to it that Gard Vikal is given the best possible treatment and that I am informed of any changes in his condition." The inquisitor opened the door.

"This isn't exactly a council chamber. And if we are lucky, that huge warp wake we felt is Lena's fleet."

[Pcm979]

"I believe we have already touched on the matter of our luck." Pater noted dryly. "I will retire to my ship; Once again, I require medical attention. It seems the main difference the decades have wrought is that, for once, I am concious at the end of a battle."

[Cynical Cat]

Jolan hesitated before replying. "Give it another fifty and you might be keeping your body parts."

[Pcm979]

"By then I expect I will have none left to keep." Pater noted, and left.

[Pcm979]

Although Pater wouldn't expect it, Théo was waiting for him when he arrived. As soon as she heard the transmission, she'd roused Joritu and had her prepare Pater's quarters for what she'd have to do. Cantor knew the Inquisitor wouldn't want treatment in the infirmary due more to wounded pride than anything else, but it was also that his own quarters were prepared for the task.

Nerves in a knot, she clenched her hands into fists as she waited, unsure as to how he'd rejoin them.

The Thunderhawk whirred into the bay, ramp lowering almost before it had hit the ground. Pater strode out, still wearing his Power Armour. If he'd dwarfed Théo before, he now absolutely towered over her.

"Théo." He said, his helmet's speaker betraying the weariness he'd hidden from Gix. "There was no need to meet me." He began towards his quarters, his limp barely noticeable.

She followed him, eyes burning into his as she glanced up to meet his stare through the helmet. "Pater," she used the first name for emphasis, "I wasn't told what condition you were in, only that it was serious. Better me than everyone, as we were all concerned."

Gone was the early apprehension she'd shown. She strode alongside him with no tentative, light footsteps and no hesitation to her movements.

"Very well. Our opponents were Eldar Harlequins. I have severely stretched my Psychic powers and lost my right leg. The emergency prosthesis is holding, but the combat stims are beginning to wear off and the pain is verging on the intolerable." He snapped, the drugs rushing through his system shortening his temper.

"Joritu has already made preparations in your quarters," she said, dismissing his short temper. Although she appeared calm enough, she was clearly worried.

"I expected nothing less." He said simply and seated himself in a pellerator. Pulling his helmet free with a slurping sound, he gazed down at her with his real eye and the horrible cavity leading to his brain. He looked as determined as ever; In the Warp, however, it was clear that he was wrapping it's ethereal powers around himself to keep him going.

She felt his determination as she always did, but the tiredness, the pain that was 'becoming intolerable'... Although he couldn't feel it, she put a hand on his gigantic glove. "Sir..." She said quietly.

He looked down like he hadn't noticed she was there. He was sweating, whether from the combat or the pain it was hard to tell. One thing was for certain, he detested being like this.

Regardless of her abilities, that was simple math.

"I'm having your transmissions held and recorded," she said, not moving her gaze from his face. She wanted to say something encouraging, because seeing him in this condition was terrifying. He'd also notice that this was the first time she'd ever really taken charge like this, shifting seamlessly into the leadership position to keep things running smoothly.

"For what it's worth," she said, "I'm relieved to see you back."

"It is just another day's work." He demurred as the vehicle came to a halt. He was up again, heading to his room with the single-minded determination of someone whose only goal in life was to reach their destination.

And she followed along at his heels relentlessly, although she wasn't sure why. She didn't want to admit that she was honestly worried about his reaching his destination safely. After all, to do so would make his vulnerability real.

"What shall I tell the others?" she asked.

"The truth." He said promptly. "I have suffered far worse." His room wasn't far now.

"I meant of the status of your mission," she said. She would never have lied to them. As they walked, she concentrated. Placing a hand on the armour, she sent a cool wave through the metal, hoping to relieve some of the hot swelling that was no doubt occurring on his leg.

"A failure." He said simply. "The Eldar retrieved the prisoner and escaped." There was his room, and Joritu was waiting outside, looking fairly sick with worry.

While before she might have lingered outside, this time Cantor followed the two inside. She looked to Joritu and offered a supportive smile, although coming from Théo, it wasn't much.

Pater's armour began hitting the ground almost as soon as he entered the room, great sections falling away. What was most alarming was the series of long spikes the suit inserted into his spinal column, although that was tied with the revelation that his spine itself was augmetic. He entered the chamber behind the steel door without looking back.

Joritu flashed a tight smile at Théo. "I'll take it from here." She said. "Thanks."

Cantor nodded, but as she looked back over to where the Inquisitor rested, she met Joritu's eyes. The question she didn't have to ask: Can I stay? Just in case?

Joritu hesistated, her eyes flicking between Cantor and the room where Pater had gone. After a minute, she nodded and followed the Inquisitor into his private medical chamber.

So Théo settled back into the chair she'd sat in before, closing her eyes for a moment. The look on Pater's face, the feeling of sheer wearienss that she'd sensed in him... It was frightening.

[SirNitram]

Standing down from the combat necessities, Malkamar returned to the temporary quarters he was assigned, and dressed down. He hadn't fired a shot in anger, but he wasn't upset by this. Battling Harlequins was battling unknowns, and what he did know suggested he'd be skewered.

The Eldar were here. Okay, what did that mean. These were Xenos who'd attack a Guard regiment, just to kill one green private whose great-grandson would become an Astartes Chapter Master if he was allowed to go onwards.. And by all accounts, the Harlequins were greater at this than their kindred.

Out of tedium and long-engraved patterns, he began to polish his weaponry in his quarters. How quickly this came back, after years away. But still, the threat of Harlequins weighed. They were involved now, which meant things were only going to get worse.

Forcing down the thoughts, he shoved away the mindless tedium which allowed such to trickle in. He grabbed a sheet of paper and began to design, trying to quiet his mind with difficult work.

[Pcm979]

Several minutes passed, with nothing happening to rouse Cantor's interest. The faceplates glared down at her from their cabinets. If she was feeling sardonically humourous, it might occur to her that he'd have to install another cabinet to store his prosthetic legs.

Joritu swept out of the room in a flurry of robes without stopping to speak to Théo, presumably fetching some medical instrument or another.

The darkness and steam belied its true size; Strange shapes moved in the smoke at the corner of her vision, and a single, baleful light glared down from a domed ceiling. It was like entering another world.

Pater was out cold, presumably anaethatised so Joritu could do her work. He was already covered in diagnostic equipment, and several pumps lead into ports on the back of his neck; presumably transfusions. Despite his unconciousness there was a palpable taste of Psychic energy in the room, and a thin frost covered the floor immediately around him.


There were a few stools around the bed where he rested, and Cantor took one, perching atop it with a tentative interest as she glanced around the rest of the room. It was.... Eerie. She drew her robes tighter around her torso and watched him, a silent vigil.

If anything, he seemed more dangerous like this, unconcious and disabled, with his faceplate and augmetic limbs removed. At least when he was awake there was his implacable determination and will keeping his powers in check; Now, his concious mind asleep, warp-sensetive Théo almost felt as if there was a feral predator in the room with her, watching and waiting to strike.

She shivered, feeling as though an icy hand had traced its fingers up her spine. She could feel Pater's spirit inside the room around her, like an animal.

A creaking from the ceiling; Something began to descend, servos hissing and whining. A mechadendrite whipped through the air, whistling and beeping.

She watched, moving back a bit. She didn't want to interfere.

The medical construct was bizzare, seemingly a random mishmash of Mechadendrites attached to an oblong ball suspended from the ceiling. The robotic manipulators fussed over the Inquisitor, shifting his head for more efficient respiration and peeling back the bodyglove around his leg. One of the robot arms peered at Théo, twisting its camera from side to side like a dog tilting its head.

She leaned back a bit more, looking more than a little distressed. But she continued watching anyway, morbidly fascinated.

The temporary limb had been a quick fix, brutal. It showed. Pins had been driven into the bone and a hooked seal had latched onto the flesh to give it a strong mount. The mechadendrites played over it for a minute, examining it with invisible senses. Pater's invisible prescence in the room seemed to grow stronger, a palpable sense of tension in the air.

Théo was beginning to wonder if entering the room had been a good decision or not... she could feel the idle defiance of Pater's mind so acutely that it worried her. Hoping to ease the tension, she placed a hand on his arm, reminding him that she and Joritu were there.

Just then the tension spiked- And the Mechadendrites lasered a further centimetre of his leg off. She winced as though struck, the energy becoming palpable.

The medical construct fussed over his leg, injecting it with various serums, including pain relief. The tension died down gradually, and the prescence returned to pacing the room like an animal.

A moment later, Joritu entered, two of the black-clad Servitors following her with metal boxes full of equipment.

Théo glanced up, glad to see her, and offered a thin, weary smile. "If I'm in the way, just say so," she said.

Joritu's answering smile was tense, but real. "You're fine." She said as the Servitors deposited their cargo and left. Joritu reached into the boxes and pulled out a complicated tangle of wires, burnished metal casings and rivets. She handed them to the ever-present medical construct, which began making sense of them. She then moved to examine Pater, starting with his eye. Carefully pulling back one of the lids, she peered on a little longer than was strictly necessary.

Watching as she peered down at him, Cantor asked quietly, "How's he...? Considering the circumstances..."

"He's been through far worse." Joritu murmured, smoothing his hair back from the rent in his face. She seemed to realise what she was doing and snapped back into business mode, the diagnostic equipment in her hands humming and whirring. "You should look up the Thousand Sons affair, one of his earlier cases. Far before my time."

She made a mental note of that, then said: "This seems to have been worse on him mentally than physically..."

Joritu shrugged as she finished her scan. "I don't know the details, but he was up against multiple Eldar. They're usually very strong psykers; He was probably fighting the battle on two planes at once." She looked up at the Mechadendrites, which had sorted the wires out. She nodded and they descended and began attaching them to Pater's blood vessels.

Théo clenched her eyes shut and sat back. Although she was in no position to question his judgement, she had learned over the half-year they'd been acquainted that he was a proud man. She sighed, wondering if this could have been avoided altogether.

Joritu tsked as she worked. "A melta weapon." She said aimlessly, looking at the disposed flesh. "I'll never understand how he manages to go on." She continued, still almost to herself. She leaned closer, her hands doing the detail work the Mechadendrites were too large and clumsy for.

"Because he understands that's his duty," she said, remembering she and Pater's talk before her Psyker training. "He understands that protecting the weak is simply what the strong must do."

"One day it's going to kill him." Joritu blurted, her conflicting emotions radiating outwards for anyone with the skill to sense them.

"And one day, perhaps tomorrow, even, something will kill us all," the Interrogator said, the meaning behind the words obvious: You cannot change a man's nature.

Joritu smiled sadly. "Oh, I know." She finished connecting the wires and sat on a chair with a sigh, her part of the task over for the moment. The Mechadendrites began assembling the attatchment nub for the cyberleg with speed and efficiency no human could match.

She watched the process with a detachment that was common to how she viewed most things. "Inquisitor Novum didn't get to where he is for being reckless," she said quietly.

"I suppose you're right." Joritu said and sat back heavily, her metal fingers clinking together as she fidgeted. She seemed to think she'd had enough of an outburst; Certainly her actions would give Théo something to think about.

"If you need some," she paused, "time, then I'll call for you when he's ready. You've done marvelous work here, Joritu, there's no need to be upset."

"Thanks, but I'm fine." She said softly. "Besides," she continued with a forced chuckle, "no matter how advanced they are, I still don't really trust these machines." She waved a hand at the construct. "I still think it needs the human touch." She was only partially telling the truth, that much was obvious.

Théo smiled kindly, sensing Joritu's nerves. "You just look a bit tired is all," she said.

"I'm fine." She repeated, making an effort to appear alright. Of course, Théo could see right through it. "Besides, it's finished." She commented, springing to her feet with forced enthusiasm as the machine finished with it's task. She examined the nub, making sure it was properly installed.

"It looks good," Théo said, attempting to ease the girl's anxiety. "I'm sure he'll be thankful."

"It's what he keeps me around for." She muttered, then looked up, satisfied. "Begin the transfusion." She said to the construct, which began pumping synthetic blood into Pater's system. She stayed there for a bit longer, once again double and triple-checking everything.

She could easily sense a bit of bitterness in that remark, but chose not to explore it. She had a feeling that there was something far more complex than whether or not her work was satisfactory playing Joritu's emotions at the moment.

Joritu walked over to the equipment boxes and hauled out Pater's replacement leg; It smelled new, presumably fabricated by the Mechanicus as soon as they'd been informed of the specifications. Joritu lined it up with the interface socket and clamped it into place, wincing a bit as a squelch announced that it had sucessfuly attached itself to the bone. She moved over and began doing the same with his arm.

Cantor watched the process with intrigue, noting the care of the medicae's movements as she attached the limbs.

Indeed, Joritu took far more care with the process than Pater ever did, usually bolting it in place with almost excessive force. By comparison Joritu was almost obessively careful, laying the arm back down in a position that would be comfortable. She detached the equipment from his head and slid his faceplate back on, brushing some hair out of the way before sealing it down.

She looked up, an almost-authentic smile on her face. "Well." She said. "That's the worst part over."

"You've done well as always," the Interrogator said.

"Thanks." The girl said, finally sliding her arms back inside their supports and sitting down again. "I'll stick around for a bit longer." She mentioned. "The process is pretty much automatic anyway. Besides," she said with an authentic smile, showing her teeth, "I'm not alone. He's in here, you can feel it."

"You care for him, don't you?"

The question was posed bluntly, curiously.

Joritu looked a bit taken aback by the bluntness of the question, but rallied well. "As much as he'll let me." She said, trying to turn it into a joke. "We all do." She added with a hint of defensiveness.

"I wasn't accusing you of anything," Théo pointed out.

"I know. Don't mind me." Joritu chuckled, flicking her head to clear hair from her eyes. "It's just been a long day."

"For all of us," she said in agreement.

[Pcm979]

Hours passed. Théo left, and Joritu busied herself. She disconnected the equipment and laid it aside once she was satisfied that the transfusion was finished. He wouldn't wake up for hours, and she was tired. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she brushed her hair away and yawned.

"Dismissed." She said to the construct, which collected its Mechadendrites and withdrew into the ceiling. She really should be going too.

Instead, she lay down. Just for a few minutes. Just to get her strength back and-

Fall asleep.

Meanwhile, Cantor made her way to the bridge to see if anything had been received. As the door irised open, she asked to anyone available: "Have their been any incoming transmissions for Inquisitor Novum since his return?"

The ship's astropath looked up. "No, ma'am. There's only been the usual traffic." He hesitated. "There's a fleet entering the system, ma'am. We can't be sure yet, but we believe it's the Saint."

"Coming to enquire as to our guest Inquisitor's status, perhaps?"

The man seemed loath to contradict her, but he shook his head nonetheless. "No, ma'am. As we've had no communication with the incoming fleet, they do not know about Inquisitor Talstrem's existance."

"Then notify me if they attempt contact. I will inform the Inquisitor when he is well.â€Â