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Dark Heresy - Agents of the Inquisition
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<blockquote data-quote="Lothred" data-source="post: 4146808" data-attributes="member: 41722"><p><strong>Who are you?</strong></p><p></p><p>The assembled group looked around, eyeing each other askance. Which of them could each one trust? Which would bolt at the first opportunity? The Arbitrator and Tech-Priest seemed eager to accompany the agent and his squad, while the two women seemed to be looking for escape routes. The two Guardsmen had already fallen in with the storm squad, ingrained obedience to authority taking hold involuntarily. The agent, who had made no other introduction than the display of his Inquisitorial rosette, having had his injuries bandaged, led off, supported by two of the storm troopers. As the group wound their way through the lower hive avenue, all could feel thousands of eyes upon them. Unaccustomed to such visibility, the small pickpocket attempted to slip away unseen. The Arbitrator, however, firmly grasped her arm, whispering fiercely to her.</p><p></p><p>“Stand fast in your faith in the Emperor, and in his holy Inquisition. Else be executed as a traitor and seditionist. I suggest the former.”</p><p></p><p>The girl stared up at him, open-mouthed, before a rictus grin graced her face.</p><p></p><p>“When you put it thus, lawman, who could say no?”</p><p></p><p>The Arbitrator smiled back. “Who indeed? If we are to work together, we should at least know each others’ names. I am Lazerus Cole, Adeptus Arbites Trooper First Class.”</p><p></p><p>The girl was quiet for some time before finally responding. “Call me Ave’. That will do for now.”</p><p></p><p>“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Ave’. Ah, look, we are arrived.”</p><p></p><p>Looking ahead, the group was approaching a section house of the Adeptus Arbites, an imposing structure designed to hold some hundred or so Arbitrators and their assorted staff. Part barracks, part fortress, a sector house was the last place most Imperial citizens wanted to end up, as the Adeptus Arbites did not concern themselves for the most part with local crime. Rather, to be interviewed by the Arbites and their Judges was to be suspected of heresy, sedition, and crimes against the Imperium. Judges were not known for their leniency, instead preferring to execute a possible innocent rather than let a clever heretic go free. Rare was the prisoner who was freed from the detention cells of the Adeptus Arbites.</p><p></p><p>As the group passed inside, Ave’ noticed Lazerus frowning. </p><p></p><p>“What is wrong, lawman?” she hissed.</p><p></p><p>Lazerus’ brow wrinkled in thought. “I’m not sure, but something does not sit right here.”</p><p></p><p>“If you do not hear a hiss, leave the seal alone.”</p><p></p><p>The trooper quirked an interrogative eyebrow in her direction.</p><p></p><p>Ave’ grinned more naturally. “It is a saying from my people. It means do not borrow trouble.”</p><p></p><p>“Ah, I see. Hopefully you are right. Let’s meet the rest of our motley crew, shall we?”</p><p></p><p>The group proceeded to a suite of offices several floors up, obviously the chambers of a Proctor which the agent had commandeered. A medicae waited, tut-tutting over the agent’s wounds. Glancing over to the sniper, he brusquely ordered the Guardsman into the next room, to disrobe and await his ministrations. The agent dismissed his escort and followed, still supported by storm troopers and fussed over by the medicae. Over his shoulder, he called out to the five remaining individuals to make themselves at ease and get to know each other.</p><p></p><p>As they eyed each other once again, the sniper returned to the main room, wincing with each step, a bandage covering his right side just below the ribs. Looking about the room, he glowered. </p><p></p><p>“Nuthin’, it’s nuthin’. Jes a scratch. Ah’ve had wurs.”</p><p></p><p>Indeed he had. The Guardsman’s ruddy skin was a veritable patchwork quilt of scars, some nearly faded completely, others appearing relatively new. </p><p></p><p>Lazerus spoke up. “Well, our new superior has asked that we get to know each other. I also believe that, if we are to work together effectively, we should know at least each others’ names! I will begin, if no one else would care to.”</p><p></p><p>One by one, the former strangers introduced themselves, divulging what information they felt comfortable with, while sizing up the others.</p><p></p><p>Lazerus Cole, Adeptus Arbites, Trooper First Class. Tall and lanky, 188cm tall and 80 kilos with light brown skin, light brown hair, and grey eyes, a native of the hive world Malfi, cleaning his pump-action shotgun as he relates a brief tale. Based out of the Sector Precinct House on Scintilla, Lazerus was in Sibellus Hive on a brief assignment. Some trouble had ensued, and he had been ordered to remain in the hive and pursue some leads that he had uncovered. That assignment, it seemed, would have to wait.</p><p></p><p>Ishmael, adept of the Cult Mechanicus, devotee of the Machine God. Swathed in red robes, the only visible flesh is his hands, inlaid with delicate circuitry, and his face, vox-grille covering the area of his mouth. Grasping a long metal staff, adorned with icons of the Machine God and topped with the skull-and-cog symbol of the Adeptus Mechanicus, he seemed indifferent to his surroundings. He had been hired by a hive maintenance supervisor to anoint some ventilation gargoyles in the lower hive. Now, his task complete, he had fallen in with this group during the unfortunate incident in the Rusty Rivet.</p><p></p><p>Eli Lupus, the youngest member of the group and a freshly-minted Guardsman. Tall and muscular at 185 cm and 85 kilos, fair-skinned and dark-haired, with piercing light grey eyes, a native of the pleasure world Siren’s Den. He says little of his past, other than that he joined the Imperial Guard on his 18th birthday, was shipped to Scintilla for training, and has been killing time in Sibellus while awaiting assignment to an Imperial Guard regiment. He is outfitted in brand-new standard Guard issue, with lasgun, full flak armor, and all the standard accoutrements.</p><p></p><p>Ophelia, devotee of the Bveryn Kley death cult, assassin-in-training. Born on an orbital station, she has spent every waking moment learning the trade of death. Lithe and deadly, clad in a black bodystocking, she keeps her blue hair short to deny an enemy any grip, framing a pale face and space-black eyes. As she begins explaining that her novitiate training ended when she killed the master of her temple, the others look at each other skeptically. Finally, after a couple of minutes of obvious grox-dung, Eli speaks up.</p><p></p><p>“Next.”</p><p></p><p>Ave’, another child of space, is reticent to reveal more than her name. Short and scrawny, standing 165 cm and a slight 58 kilos, her short brown hair and pale skin melt into whatever crowd she finds herself in, her utterly unremarkable appearance is one of her greatest attributes. Every expression seems to say that she has seen the worst the universe has to offer, and she doesn’t care. She is dressed in the remnants of a shipboard skinsuit, little more than sleeves and leggings, covered by tattered canvas breeches and a homespun vest. She is well-armed, however, with scrounged shotgun and autopistol evident, and a long-bladed knife in a sheath at her side.</p><p></p><p>Finally, it is the wounded sniper’s turn. He is another large man, standing 178cm and weighing in at 90 kilos. Grudgingly, he reveals his name as Tauron Cortez, born on Valos Krin, a feral world in an outlying region of this sector. He says nothing of his past, instead referring to himself as a hunter and tracker. When Eli asks him what regiment he belonged to, referring to the sniper’s Guard-standard armor and other equipment, Cortez becomes visibly upset.</p><p></p><p>“Ah ain’t a part o’ no grox-dun’ reg’mint, snotty! Yer can go an’ <em>flenk</em> yerself iffen yer thinks otherways! Nun, yer hearin’ me? Nun!”</p><p></p><p>Eli and Lazerus share a look, both thinking the same thing. <em>Deserter</em>. However, if the Inquisition would use such a man, so be it.</p><p></p><p>Presently, the Inquisition agent emerges from the other room, bandaged and smelling of antiseptics, but smiling.</p><p></p><p>“Well, now that you all know each other, I should introduce myself. I am Miocanthus, acolyte of one of His Imperial Majesty’s Inquisitors. Which one is not important at this time. However, I have a test for you now. Pass, and you shall perhaps meet my master, and begin your true service to the Throne.”</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Lothred, post: 4146808, member: 41722"] [b]Who are you?[/b] The assembled group looked around, eyeing each other askance. Which of them could each one trust? Which would bolt at the first opportunity? The Arbitrator and Tech-Priest seemed eager to accompany the agent and his squad, while the two women seemed to be looking for escape routes. The two Guardsmen had already fallen in with the storm squad, ingrained obedience to authority taking hold involuntarily. The agent, who had made no other introduction than the display of his Inquisitorial rosette, having had his injuries bandaged, led off, supported by two of the storm troopers. As the group wound their way through the lower hive avenue, all could feel thousands of eyes upon them. Unaccustomed to such visibility, the small pickpocket attempted to slip away unseen. The Arbitrator, however, firmly grasped her arm, whispering fiercely to her. “Stand fast in your faith in the Emperor, and in his holy Inquisition. Else be executed as a traitor and seditionist. I suggest the former.” The girl stared up at him, open-mouthed, before a rictus grin graced her face. “When you put it thus, lawman, who could say no?” The Arbitrator smiled back. “Who indeed? If we are to work together, we should at least know each others’ names. I am Lazerus Cole, Adeptus Arbites Trooper First Class.” The girl was quiet for some time before finally responding. “Call me Ave’. That will do for now.” “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Ave’. Ah, look, we are arrived.” Looking ahead, the group was approaching a section house of the Adeptus Arbites, an imposing structure designed to hold some hundred or so Arbitrators and their assorted staff. Part barracks, part fortress, a sector house was the last place most Imperial citizens wanted to end up, as the Adeptus Arbites did not concern themselves for the most part with local crime. Rather, to be interviewed by the Arbites and their Judges was to be suspected of heresy, sedition, and crimes against the Imperium. Judges were not known for their leniency, instead preferring to execute a possible innocent rather than let a clever heretic go free. Rare was the prisoner who was freed from the detention cells of the Adeptus Arbites. As the group passed inside, Ave’ noticed Lazerus frowning. “What is wrong, lawman?” she hissed. Lazerus’ brow wrinkled in thought. “I’m not sure, but something does not sit right here.” “If you do not hear a hiss, leave the seal alone.” The trooper quirked an interrogative eyebrow in her direction. Ave’ grinned more naturally. “It is a saying from my people. It means do not borrow trouble.” “Ah, I see. Hopefully you are right. Let’s meet the rest of our motley crew, shall we?” The group proceeded to a suite of offices several floors up, obviously the chambers of a Proctor which the agent had commandeered. A medicae waited, tut-tutting over the agent’s wounds. Glancing over to the sniper, he brusquely ordered the Guardsman into the next room, to disrobe and await his ministrations. The agent dismissed his escort and followed, still supported by storm troopers and fussed over by the medicae. Over his shoulder, he called out to the five remaining individuals to make themselves at ease and get to know each other. As they eyed each other once again, the sniper returned to the main room, wincing with each step, a bandage covering his right side just below the ribs. Looking about the room, he glowered. “Nuthin’, it’s nuthin’. Jes a scratch. Ah’ve had wurs.” Indeed he had. The Guardsman’s ruddy skin was a veritable patchwork quilt of scars, some nearly faded completely, others appearing relatively new. Lazerus spoke up. “Well, our new superior has asked that we get to know each other. I also believe that, if we are to work together effectively, we should know at least each others’ names! I will begin, if no one else would care to.” One by one, the former strangers introduced themselves, divulging what information they felt comfortable with, while sizing up the others. Lazerus Cole, Adeptus Arbites, Trooper First Class. Tall and lanky, 188cm tall and 80 kilos with light brown skin, light brown hair, and grey eyes, a native of the hive world Malfi, cleaning his pump-action shotgun as he relates a brief tale. Based out of the Sector Precinct House on Scintilla, Lazerus was in Sibellus Hive on a brief assignment. Some trouble had ensued, and he had been ordered to remain in the hive and pursue some leads that he had uncovered. That assignment, it seemed, would have to wait. Ishmael, adept of the Cult Mechanicus, devotee of the Machine God. Swathed in red robes, the only visible flesh is his hands, inlaid with delicate circuitry, and his face, vox-grille covering the area of his mouth. Grasping a long metal staff, adorned with icons of the Machine God and topped with the skull-and-cog symbol of the Adeptus Mechanicus, he seemed indifferent to his surroundings. He had been hired by a hive maintenance supervisor to anoint some ventilation gargoyles in the lower hive. Now, his task complete, he had fallen in with this group during the unfortunate incident in the Rusty Rivet. Eli Lupus, the youngest member of the group and a freshly-minted Guardsman. Tall and muscular at 185 cm and 85 kilos, fair-skinned and dark-haired, with piercing light grey eyes, a native of the pleasure world Siren’s Den. He says little of his past, other than that he joined the Imperial Guard on his 18th birthday, was shipped to Scintilla for training, and has been killing time in Sibellus while awaiting assignment to an Imperial Guard regiment. He is outfitted in brand-new standard Guard issue, with lasgun, full flak armor, and all the standard accoutrements. Ophelia, devotee of the Bveryn Kley death cult, assassin-in-training. Born on an orbital station, she has spent every waking moment learning the trade of death. Lithe and deadly, clad in a black bodystocking, she keeps her blue hair short to deny an enemy any grip, framing a pale face and space-black eyes. As she begins explaining that her novitiate training ended when she killed the master of her temple, the others look at each other skeptically. Finally, after a couple of minutes of obvious grox-dung, Eli speaks up. “Next.” Ave’, another child of space, is reticent to reveal more than her name. Short and scrawny, standing 165 cm and a slight 58 kilos, her short brown hair and pale skin melt into whatever crowd she finds herself in, her utterly unremarkable appearance is one of her greatest attributes. Every expression seems to say that she has seen the worst the universe has to offer, and she doesn’t care. She is dressed in the remnants of a shipboard skinsuit, little more than sleeves and leggings, covered by tattered canvas breeches and a homespun vest. She is well-armed, however, with scrounged shotgun and autopistol evident, and a long-bladed knife in a sheath at her side. Finally, it is the wounded sniper’s turn. He is another large man, standing 178cm and weighing in at 90 kilos. Grudgingly, he reveals his name as Tauron Cortez, born on Valos Krin, a feral world in an outlying region of this sector. He says nothing of his past, instead referring to himself as a hunter and tracker. When Eli asks him what regiment he belonged to, referring to the sniper’s Guard-standard armor and other equipment, Cortez becomes visibly upset. “Ah ain’t a part o’ no grox-dun’ reg’mint, snotty! Yer can go an’ [I]flenk[/I] yerself iffen yer thinks otherways! Nun, yer hearin’ me? Nun!” Eli and Lazerus share a look, both thinking the same thing. [I]Deserter[/I]. However, if the Inquisition would use such a man, so be it. Presently, the Inquisition agent emerges from the other room, bandaged and smelling of antiseptics, but smiling. “Well, now that you all know each other, I should introduce myself. I am Miocanthus, acolyte of one of His Imperial Majesty’s Inquisitors. Which one is not important at this time. However, I have a test for you now. Pass, and you shall perhaps meet my master, and begin your true service to the Throne.” [/QUOTE]
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