Dark Heresy: Into the Forests of the Night

[Cynical Cat]

The Argaline glowed like city at night in the viewports of the approaching lighter. The rogue trader was two kilometers long and encrusted with gargoyle headed thrusters and vents as well as sensor minarets and scanning spires. Her glory was mankind's glory, the work of a countless laborers and the wisdom gathered from countless generations of mystic technologists. She carried the Emperor's light to new worlds and the alien infested dark and as such was holier than any mere cathedral.

The crew of the lighter tried to ignore their passengers. Their were voidborn men and women whose ancestors had served faithfully on the Argaline for as far back as could be remembered. If it was the will of their officers that they carry human cargo from dirt to their sacred vessel, so be it. They would do their duty. That did not mean they had to spend time with the backwards dirtfoots who comprised the bulk of humanity.

"Beginning final approach," said the pilot over the vox address system. "Everyone strap in."

[Hotfoot]

Zuriel gave a quick prayer to the Emperor as he strapped himself into his seat and glanced around at the others surrounding him. He had spent most of the trip marveling at the wondrous technology that carried him between stars. He had tried at one point to ask some of the crew some questions about it, but they had been rather standoffish.

The others, he had been cordial enough to, but had kept his distance and not been too explicit about his reasons for being on the ship, though he had avoided outright lying. Vigilance was what the Emperor asked of his servants, especially those of the Inquisition.

[Charon]

Quint took a few relaxing breaths before he pulled on the chain around his neck and brought out the shining throne that had been in his family for generations. He kissed the "foot" of the golden throne and slipped it back under his shirt. The Arbitrator muttered a quick prayer to the Emperor and strapped himself down for the final approach.

[LadyTevar]

As far away from the others as she could be, seemingly avoided by everyone, the young woman in the tattered, patched robes gathered up the cards she'd spread in front of her, wrapping them carefully in a scarf of *far* greater quality than her current garments.

As she rose to her feet to take her seat and strap in, she brushed her hair back from her face, revealing the brand of a psyker on her forehead.

[SirNitram]

"*Bzzt*. All systems green." The Voidborn who had turned up on the ship with the rest had reported moments ago. Now he too returned to being a passenger, after days of tending to the ship and it's Machine Spirit, of elaborate rituals and customs of those who are born of ships and not of flat-land. The acolyte of the Tech-Priests simply waited. Landing was always inauspicious.

[Cynical Cat]

The lighter entered a small craft bay the rogue trader, passing through a metal canyon and then landing with a heavy thud. Servitors approached the craft as the pilot and the copilot began shutting down instruments. Pipes and tubing were attached as the airlock cycled and the landing ramp was deployed.

The captain left the cockpit and headed towards the passengers. "Alright people, this is the end of the line."

[Marcao]

The words of their arrival had barely been uttered when his eyes slid around those gathered around him. He had already begun process of attempting to memorize as much about the passengers he could. He understood that their place was like his own, tools of the Inquisition and implements of that organization's will. Still, they were as of yet unproven to him.

He moved, his hands reaching out and deftly undoing the various straps that had secured him. He remained seated, the dark colored clothing contrasting sharping with his light eyes. One of the first things that he had learned in the Temple that he had been trained was patience. Everything had its time, all actions ordained by the will and breath of the Emperor. He was very much interested in the dynamics of the group, who were the leaders, who were the followers?

In time, all secrets revealed themselves.

[Cynical Cat]

A petit woman wearing a black jacket and trousers enters the landing bay, stepping over a coil of pipes en route. She's about one point six meters tall and can't weight more than fifty kilos. Her dark hair is pulled back in a braid and her skin is very pale. She wears a holster on her right hip and white lace peaks out from her collar and jacket cuffs. She stops at the end of the lighter's ramp.

[LadyTevar]

The young woman removed herself from the chair, gathering up the small bag that held what few possessions were hers to exit the ship. She avoided meeting anyone's eyes as she disembarked, trying to stay out of the way as much as possible, until she reached the bottom of the ramp and the woman there.

Her head cocked, looking at the woman curiously for a moment.

"Ace of Spades: A new Adventure or Opportunity," the psyker singsang. "Three of Spades: Carefully consider all future plans." She tilted her head the opposite direction, before slowly giving the woman a slight smile. "Seven of Clubs: Foolish Speculation is to be avoided."

[SirNitram]

"All *crackle* Speculation must be logical and unfoolish." Was the slightly distorted voice of the Techpriest as he left the ship, speaking the Rites Of Departure as he did so, thanking the ship and it's crew in the way that all Voidborn knew on some level. The Mechanicus moved forward, presenting himself.

[Charon]

Quint unbuckled himself and checked his gear again to make sure it was all in working order. The young Arbitrator pointedly avoided looking in the direction of the psyker and instead took in his surroundings as well as the woman who was meeting them. He snapped to attention mid-way down the ramp.

[Cynical Cat]

The young woman clasped her hands behind her back. "Hello. I am Alexandra Keline. I am to be lead you to the inquisitor. If you gentles would follow me?" She turned and lead the acolytes out of the landing, passed metal bodied servitors mechanically going through the process of servicing and refueling the lighter.

The Argaline's ancient corridors were marked by scars and rust, but the ship seemed in good repair. Worn or extensively damaged conduits or plating could not be seen and some pieces of newer manufacture were visible to the discerning eye. Alexandra stopped at a door and hit the chime.

"Enter," responded a mellow baritone and she stepped in. Inside was a well furnished stateroom where a man of apparent middle years sat on the other side of a table of Vitrian glass. He was tall and light skinned, with slightly curly dark hair and beard shot through with white streaks. He smiled pleasantly. He wore a plain dark robe and had the manner of a well travelled and beloved uncle or a child's favorite tutor.

"Please come in and sit down," he said. "Make yourselves comfortable." He inclined his head to Alexandra with a smile. "You as well."

"Yes, my lord," she replied and stood stiffly with her back to the wall, hands clasped behind her back.

He turned his head back to the acolytes. "Do wish any refreshments?"

[Hotfoot]

Zuriel unbuckled his straps and followed the young woman in black quietly, raising an eyebrow at his compatriot's recent use of the Emperor's Tarot. She was...a touch cheerful for the current situation, but perhaps she knew something he did not.

The addition of knowledge that the fellows with him were called to meet an Inquisitor caused his heart to lighten slightly, but he kept aware of his surroundings. Less now for caution as it was for simply drinking in the splendor of the starship, and the quarters of the Inquisitor.

He entered the room with a curious eye, his gaze flitting from one point to another. As he gingerly took a seat, he nodded to Alexandra in thanks for acting as a guide, then to the Inquisitor.

"Thank you for your offer, my lord. A simple bit of water would more than suffice for me."

[Cynical Cat]

A gold bodied woman crossed the room and placed a carafe of water and a glass on the table in front of Zuriel. The servitor stood, waiting for additional requests.

[LadyTevar]

The psyker sank crosslegged into the floor in front of one of the proffered seats, silently looking over not just their host, but the rest of the group around her.

[Marcao]

There was nothing to be done except follow their guide and take advantage of their hosts good graces. The corridors of the vessel around them were of little interest to him aside from providing him a rough indication of the warren of corridors about them. He said nothing as he moved, although his steps carried with them the predatory grace of someone who had been trained to take life. He could mask that walk but in times like this, he saw little point in it. He was in a ship in the middle of nowhere about to meet someone that would have a profound effect in his life. There was no one around that he wished to kill.

For a moment, a fraction of a second he considered remaining standing. He could stand for hours but he decided against it. Such a gesture may be possibly interpreted in a manner unlike that of which he intended. He found a seat and made himself comfortable, his pleasure never reached his eyes however. When the offer for refreshments was made he remained silent. It was a generous gesture but his needs did not need to be met at this time. He felt eyes upon him and resisted the temptation to look in that direction.

[Charon]

Quint followed quietly, he was paying only the barest attention to his surroundings now, feeling somewhat at ease knowing that the area should be secure. Should. That was why he kept an eye out.

When they reached the Inquisitor's quarters Quint remained standing, and waved off the offer of refreshments as he took a look around the room, taking everything in. The psyker was looking at him occasionally, which made him uneasy, but he ignored it as best he could.

[Cynical Cat]

"We have not met in person before," said the man, "but have all served me in various capacities. My name is Maximillian Xarbos and I am the man you ultimately serve in our most Holy Inquisition. I have need of a new team of field agents to do the Emperor's work and you, collectively, appear promising."

He raised a glass of amnesic to his lips and drank shallowly. "There is a minor matter on the planet Fervidus. It's a backward place, with many people at the fringes of civilization backsliding into pre-Imperial heretical beliefs. There have been several strange occurances at the town of Nichtmar, an apparently harmless boarder community. The investigator assigned to deal with these matters has disappeared.

"The matter is likely comparatively minor involving rather mundane crime and rebellious activity, but it might be something more. I wish to go to Nichtmar and deal with the situation as necessary."

[LadyTevar]

The arbitrator still standing was uncomfortable, trying to ignore her. It made her glance at him more often, just to see how it made the colors of his aura swirl around him. However, when the Inquistor began to speak, her attention turned fully on him, listening very carefully.

[Charon]

Quint pursed his lips for a moment, a part of him glad that he had something to distract him from the psyker's watching him.

"Fervidus, never heard of it. What are we going to be going into. Agriworld, hive? And what, if anything, did your investigator get to you before he disappeared m'lord?"

[Cynical Cat]

"It's a feudal world, only having been restored to the Emperor's Light several centuries ago. The old traditions have not died out. The man in question was not an Inquisition agent, but the Inquisition keeps pays attention because the locals worshiped some rather unholy warp entities before being restored to the Emperor's Light. These out of the way places are the last footholds of the old ways. Usually soldiers and priests handle any problems without our intervention being required, but it appears this matter may require a keener eye."

[Hotfoot]

Zuriel nodded as he took in this information, gently sipping on his cup. "I see. Forgive me for asking, my lord, but as we have just met formally now, how would you prefer we act in our service to you? You seem, in my current estimation, to be the sort of man interested in a deft but firm hand," he waited for a moment to search for the Inquisitor's reaction before continuing. "What I am unsure of, however, is if you would have us keep our seal and arms covered until needed, or bared to use often."

He had an idea of what the answer would be, but better it be heard here in this setting. Without knowing much about his newfound comrades, he wanted to make sure certain things were clear. While he had no issues with using his weapons, he would rather not doing so wantonly.

[Cynical Cat]

"You'll have the authority to act openly," said Xarbos. "There is an agent on world who will assist you in making arrangements and can confirm your identities as Throne agents to the relevant authorities should it be necessary. Fervidus is a backwards world and you shouldn't need additional reinforcements in all but the most extreme of cases. I leave the method and the details of the investigation up to you. In all likelyhood we are dealing with some bandit or minor insurrectionist activity easily dealt with by the others. There is a possibility that what is occurring is more serious and that is why I want Inquisition agents handling this. I am less concerned about methodology than in success. Do what works."

[LadyTevar]

"M'Lord... what are their reactions to psykers?" Her tone was very deferential, her eyes lowered repectifully.

[Cynical Cat]

"The usual," said Xerbos. "The Ecclesiarchy has encouraged the usual witch fears in order to get nascent psykers reported to the proper authorities. The old cults had places for them as sorcerers so that element may linger."