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Wulf Ratbane's DARK HERESY
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<blockquote data-quote="Wulf Ratbane" data-source="post: 4045763" data-attributes="member: 94"><p>The room inside held a jumble of dusty metal crates (branded with unintelligible symbols) stacked against one wall, while a hospital gurney (complete with restraint straps) had been left toppled over on one side against the other. </p><p></p><p>The room's most striking feature was a wide mirror which filled the upper half of the opposite wall from the entrance. The mirror slowly cleared to transparency to reveal a glittering steel chamber beyond. Inside the chamber, looking out, was a tall, thin-faced figure wearing white medicae robes with (rather incongruously) a red leather coat draped over his shoulders. </p><p></p><p>Behind him, covered by a mottled grey sheet, was what looked like a body on some sort of frame, raised upright for inspection. </p><p></p><p>Above him in the air, a pair of white enameled skulls, each encrusted with a variety of brass instruments and long hypo needles, hovered expectantly. </p><p></p><p>Cutter snorted nervously. </p><p></p><p>The figure behind the glass beckoned them forward with a gloved hand.</p><p></p><p>Grim stepped forward first; Cutter gamboled up behind him, snorts coming quickly. Gunner, suspicious as always, eased up behind. </p><p></p><p>“Greetings, Acolytes. I am Medicae-Interrogator Sannd, and you are the new blood, are you not? Worthy additions to our holy war? We shall see, we shall see, far be it from me to doubt my betters' judgment, eh?”</p><p></p><p>At the sound of the his voice, Cutter dropped to the floor, prostrating himself before the Medicae.</p><p></p><p>“Well, to the matter at hand. I represent the Holy Ordos of the Imperial Inquisition that we all serve. Our masters have called you here to assist us in the investigation of a matter of interest that has recently and unexpectedly come to light. </p><p></p><p>“You are now in the depths of the Templum Mori, the house of the dead where the Lords Prefecta Mortem hold court and the fallen and the lost of the great city are named and counted. It will not surprise you then to know you are here to view a corpse. Somehow, I doubt it will be your first, but it is, shall we say, quite singular!”</p><p></p><p>Sannd hissed at Grim. “Brother, get that beastman to his feet, that he can witness as well.”</p><p></p><p>Grim jerked the beastman to his feet.</p><p></p><p>“Gently, brother,” said Sannd.</p><p></p><p>"As you wish," Grim replied.</p><p></p><p>Sannd pulled aside the grey sheet to reveal the dissected and eviscerated body of an adult human. As he continued to talk, the servo-skulls dipped and bobbed out of sight to reappear with messy looking organic specimens in tests tubes and jars, clutched in their dexterous brass calipers, displaying them in turn for the Acolytes' edification: </p><p></p><p>“If you will kindly attend and pay heed,” said Sannd, “I will take questions afterward. The body has been positively identified as that of one Saul Arbest, male, 23 years of age, hive worker, unskilled labourer certified. Formerly of the Tantalus Indenture, registered habitation: chamber 6/23 stack 717# Coscarla Division, southern zone, Hive Sibelius. </p><p></p><p>“Subject found dead on the mid-hive transit rail three days ago as the car returned to the main depot. Preliminary examination at the scene suggested death by drug overdose. Post mortem performed by the biologis forensic, however revealed certain anomies that necessitated our involvement.”</p><p>Cutter whined softly, clearly out of his depth.</p><p></p><p>Sannd continued. “The cause of death was in fact total systemic failure brought on by tissue rejection of an implanted synthetic graft organ. Said organ destroyed his central nervous system while attempting to overcome the immune response.”</p><p></p><p>"And these anomalies were?" Grim asked.</p><p></p><p>“In short this…” Sannd paused for a moment while one of the servo skulls displayed a sample jar containing a ten centimetre long whitish cord of waving glassy tendrils, still in motion, still alive. “…crushed the life out of him from the inside.”</p><p></p><p>“That looks difficult to shoot…” said Gunner. “What’s it do?”</p><p></p><p>“Its purpose? Unknown, but my opinion would be, in a word, 'Control.' Neural and synaptic override, perhaps worse.”</p><p></p><p>Cutter snarled.</p><p></p><p>"Quite interesting!" said Grim.</p><p></p><p>Sannd nodded at Grim, clearly pleased. “There were other grafts and surgery of a less singular kind also; one lung replaced by a concealed storage cavity, possibly for his use as a courier. Also, one optic nerve removed, skin flayed from his stomach, I've no idea why. His system's awash with alchemic traces, clotting agents, panimmune and the like. </p><p></p><p>“The surgery was expert, but by the lesions and tissue stresses, I doubt any care was given to whether or not it was painless. In fact, by the damage to his vocal cords, my guess was that he probably screamed as long as he was able to. </p><p></p><p>“But this little monster is what concerns us. Oh, you don't need to know the gene lore or the Omnissian edict, just that this is not only illegal, it is forbidden… It is heresy! Merely tampering with this kind of dark tech is enough to warrant a death sentence from the Holy Ordos, the Arbites or the Mechanicus. </p><p></p><p>“And I'm sure that you, as well as I, am wondering how such a rare and vile thing ended up wrapped round the spine of some anonymous hab-prole from the dusty end of the stacks. </p><p></p><p>“Well, the Inquisition would like you to find out.”</p><p></p><p>"Any other signs the subject resisted besides screaming?" asked Grim.</p><p></p><p>“It is difficult to say which wounds were suffered in surgery, and which in self defense—if any.”</p><p></p><p>“Who would want this guy dead? Or was he in the wrong place?” asked Gunner.</p><p></p><p>“The man has no prior criminal record, he was rendered invalid by indenture-laid off if you will, some sixty days ago now and was reported missing thirty-two days ago by his sister, one Lily Arbest, resident of the same hab-stack. More than enough time to get himself into all sorts of trouble, I'm sure you'll agree. These grafts are no more than eight or ten days old at most. We have nothing else on him. </p><p></p><p>“This is to be a shadow investigation, no open official involvement and no notification of the local authorities, and no one knows he's here either. Coscarla's down hive, so a covert approach will draw far less attention than a boot through the door, and be far less likely to kill any leads to our heretic. </p><p></p><p>“Find out why and where if you can, better yet, find out how. Best of all, find out who is responsible. Go with the grace of the God-Emperor—oh! And additional samples would be a blessing if you can procure them.”</p><p></p><p>Cutter bent to prostrate himself once more, but caught himself and merely bowed ungracefully.</p><p></p><p>"Are we the first to be sent on this mission, master?" asked Cutter.</p><p></p><p>The Medicae sighed, clearly displeased at being addressed by the beastman. “Cognomen Grim!” he barked, addressing his fellow tech adept.</p><p></p><p>"Yes, sir?"</p><p></p><p>“Please pick up the satchel in the corner marked with your name, and distribute the other two to your companions.”</p><p></p><p>Grim moved to the satchels and did as he was told.</p><p></p><p>“I trust you know how to deactivate the adrenal sensors on the explosive collar, and how to use the manual detonator?”</p><p></p><p>Grim nodded, handing the other two satchels to his companions. Cutter accepted his wordlessly, still attentive to Medicae-Interrogator Sand, but Gunner could not resist a peek inside: Transit tokens to get into and around the Coscarla District; a set of cover identities designating them as registered recovery agents, permitted to carry weapons; some short range voxmitters; lamps; a simple map and data slate detailing the sad recent history of the Coscarla District, including the fire that killed hundreds and sent the district into its current downward spiral. Last, each satchel contained a thick leather overcoat, which Cutter immediately unfurled and attempted to squeeze on over his primitive chain shirt.</p><p></p><p>Sannd spoke up again. “You will also need that,” he said, gesturing to a bio-sample kit containing three pint-sized specimen jars, a medical razor, and a bio-auspex. “The auspex is attuned to anomalous human tissue. If you find any, bring it back for us.”</p><p></p><p>“Are there any questions?”</p><p></p><p>Cutter shook his head emphatically, eager to depart, but his companions appeared to be in no such hurry.</p><p></p><p>“Time-frame?” asked Grim.</p><p></p><p>“It should take you no more than a few days, I trust.”</p><p></p><p>“Understood.” Grim nodded slightly. “Logically, we should interro...talk to the sister…”</p><p></p><p>Gunner nodded in agreement. “Where exactly was the body found? Can we go there right away?”</p><p></p><p>“The body was found on the transit as it pulled into the Coscarla station.”</p><p></p><p>“Has the actual vehicle where the death occured been pulled from service?” asked Gunner, running his mind through the usual paces of the investigator.</p><p></p><p>Cutter pawed at the floor with one hoof, evidently anxious to depart the area.</p><p></p><p>“I am afraid my mind works rather linearly, Gunner. If you could explain your line of reasoning, I might be better able to answer what is gnawing at you.”</p><p></p><p>“I'd like to visit the exact scene of the crime,” said Gunner.</p><p></p><p>“There is little to be gained from that. I have my doubts that his body was actually the scene of the crime. I believe he was dumped.”</p><p></p><p>“Always missing stuff…” Gunner muttered under his breath. </p><p></p><p>“I regret we did not inform you sooner,” said Sannd, his voice dripping with sarcasm… and menace. “If only we had known that a low-functioning Acolyte needed immediate access to the scene of Heresy.”</p><p></p><p>Cutter paled and stepped away from Gunner.</p><p></p><p>“How was he dumped, Medicae?” asked Grim. “Conspicuously, or attempted discretion?”</p><p></p><p>“There was no attempt at discretion, though some effort was made to disguise the death as a drug overdose. If there are no other questions?” </p><p></p><p>“None worth getting burned over…” said Grim, quietly.</p><p></p><p>“Well, Grim,” said Gunner. “Sounds like we, uh, ‘interview’ the sister.”</p><p></p><p>"Thank you for this opportunity, Master Medicae," said Cutter. He bowed once more.</p><p></p><p>Medicae-Interrogator Sannd addressed him at last. “Keep your temper in check, Cutter, but your skills at the ready. Each of you was chosen specifically, and your talents are no less important than the others.”</p><p></p><p>Cutter bobbed his head up and down. "I will, Master, I will." Cutter backed away, still bowing. Gunner eyed him thoughtfully. Together with Grim, they bowed and exited the room, returning to the lift.</p><p></p><p>Once out of sight of the Interrogator, Cutter’s demeanor changed dramatically. "Grim...this collar. It can...do things. Bad things. If I get overexcited. Can you, perhaps...turn off the sensors?"</p><p></p><p>“Is there a need for that right this moment?” asked Gunner, nervously.</p><p></p><p>Cutter grunted. "I suspect I could become...agitated… during the course of our work."</p><p></p><p>Grim thought it over. The manual detonator was probably safer at this point. “Yes, Cutter. I will turn down the adrenal sensors.”</p><p></p><p>The journey to Coscarla took several hours by transit rail car, during which time they had to change cars repeatedly (into increasingly dilapidated and vandalised cars), and their pass tokens and cognomen were repeatedly checked by suspicious Magistratum enforcers, dull eyed carriage servitors, and unctuous looking officials. </p><p></p><p>As their journey progressed, they passed from the relatively open spaces and clean air of the government district, down and across whole hive levels, past collapsed finery and the fallen architectural splendours of the "good of olden days," through vast steel skyvaults filled with endless rows of hab-stacks and kilometre after 10 kilometre of thunderous manufactora. </p><p></p><p>The further they traveled, the more depressed, ill-maintained and decayed things became; they had reached the lower stretches of the mid hive; beyond which no transit rails ran, the outer circle of the underhive where no law holds sway. Long stretches of the journey were spent in the stale tainted air of the wormhole-like tunnel passageways within the Hive's thick supporting bones and in the nameless black voids of deserted spaces between. The car's lights flickered and failed regularly. </p><p></p><p>Alone in a single car, now deserted but for their group, the rattling carriage at last broke into another vast and dilapidated hab-vault and began to slow. They looked out upon a vista of vacant and decayed buildings in a worse state than any that they had seen up so far, stretching beyond sight into a dark horizon beyond. </p><p></p><p>The rail car shuddered to a stop and the doors opened onto a wide, raised platform devoid of passengers save for a single huddled figure dressed in rags. The figure quickly bundled himself onboard, flashing a pass to the door mechanism with unseemly haste and taking up a seat as far from their group as possible. A moment later a dull, crackling servitor intoned: </p><p></p><p>"Coscarla Southern Railhead. Passengers to Coscarla to disembark. This conveyance will depart in…" The rest was lost in a howl of static. </p><p></p><p>They had arrived in Coscarla.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Wulf Ratbane, post: 4045763, member: 94"] The room inside held a jumble of dusty metal crates (branded with unintelligible symbols) stacked against one wall, while a hospital gurney (complete with restraint straps) had been left toppled over on one side against the other. The room's most striking feature was a wide mirror which filled the upper half of the opposite wall from the entrance. The mirror slowly cleared to transparency to reveal a glittering steel chamber beyond. Inside the chamber, looking out, was a tall, thin-faced figure wearing white medicae robes with (rather incongruously) a red leather coat draped over his shoulders. Behind him, covered by a mottled grey sheet, was what looked like a body on some sort of frame, raised upright for inspection. Above him in the air, a pair of white enameled skulls, each encrusted with a variety of brass instruments and long hypo needles, hovered expectantly. Cutter snorted nervously. The figure behind the glass beckoned them forward with a gloved hand. Grim stepped forward first; Cutter gamboled up behind him, snorts coming quickly. Gunner, suspicious as always, eased up behind. “Greetings, Acolytes. I am Medicae-Interrogator Sannd, and you are the new blood, are you not? Worthy additions to our holy war? We shall see, we shall see, far be it from me to doubt my betters' judgment, eh?” At the sound of the his voice, Cutter dropped to the floor, prostrating himself before the Medicae. “Well, to the matter at hand. I represent the Holy Ordos of the Imperial Inquisition that we all serve. Our masters have called you here to assist us in the investigation of a matter of interest that has recently and unexpectedly come to light. “You are now in the depths of the Templum Mori, the house of the dead where the Lords Prefecta Mortem hold court and the fallen and the lost of the great city are named and counted. It will not surprise you then to know you are here to view a corpse. Somehow, I doubt it will be your first, but it is, shall we say, quite singular!” Sannd hissed at Grim. “Brother, get that beastman to his feet, that he can witness as well.” Grim jerked the beastman to his feet. “Gently, brother,” said Sannd. "As you wish," Grim replied. Sannd pulled aside the grey sheet to reveal the dissected and eviscerated body of an adult human. As he continued to talk, the servo-skulls dipped and bobbed out of sight to reappear with messy looking organic specimens in tests tubes and jars, clutched in their dexterous brass calipers, displaying them in turn for the Acolytes' edification: “If you will kindly attend and pay heed,” said Sannd, “I will take questions afterward. The body has been positively identified as that of one Saul Arbest, male, 23 years of age, hive worker, unskilled labourer certified. Formerly of the Tantalus Indenture, registered habitation: chamber 6/23 stack 717# Coscarla Division, southern zone, Hive Sibelius. “Subject found dead on the mid-hive transit rail three days ago as the car returned to the main depot. Preliminary examination at the scene suggested death by drug overdose. Post mortem performed by the biologis forensic, however revealed certain anomies that necessitated our involvement.” Cutter whined softly, clearly out of his depth. Sannd continued. “The cause of death was in fact total systemic failure brought on by tissue rejection of an implanted synthetic graft organ. Said organ destroyed his central nervous system while attempting to overcome the immune response.” "And these anomalies were?" Grim asked. “In short this…” Sannd paused for a moment while one of the servo skulls displayed a sample jar containing a ten centimetre long whitish cord of waving glassy tendrils, still in motion, still alive. “…crushed the life out of him from the inside.” “That looks difficult to shoot…” said Gunner. “What’s it do?” “Its purpose? Unknown, but my opinion would be, in a word, 'Control.' Neural and synaptic override, perhaps worse.” Cutter snarled. "Quite interesting!" said Grim. Sannd nodded at Grim, clearly pleased. “There were other grafts and surgery of a less singular kind also; one lung replaced by a concealed storage cavity, possibly for his use as a courier. Also, one optic nerve removed, skin flayed from his stomach, I've no idea why. His system's awash with alchemic traces, clotting agents, panimmune and the like. “The surgery was expert, but by the lesions and tissue stresses, I doubt any care was given to whether or not it was painless. In fact, by the damage to his vocal cords, my guess was that he probably screamed as long as he was able to. “But this little monster is what concerns us. Oh, you don't need to know the gene lore or the Omnissian edict, just that this is not only illegal, it is forbidden… It is heresy! Merely tampering with this kind of dark tech is enough to warrant a death sentence from the Holy Ordos, the Arbites or the Mechanicus. “And I'm sure that you, as well as I, am wondering how such a rare and vile thing ended up wrapped round the spine of some anonymous hab-prole from the dusty end of the stacks. “Well, the Inquisition would like you to find out.” "Any other signs the subject resisted besides screaming?" asked Grim. “It is difficult to say which wounds were suffered in surgery, and which in self defense—if any.” “Who would want this guy dead? Or was he in the wrong place?” asked Gunner. “The man has no prior criminal record, he was rendered invalid by indenture-laid off if you will, some sixty days ago now and was reported missing thirty-two days ago by his sister, one Lily Arbest, resident of the same hab-stack. More than enough time to get himself into all sorts of trouble, I'm sure you'll agree. These grafts are no more than eight or ten days old at most. We have nothing else on him. “This is to be a shadow investigation, no open official involvement and no notification of the local authorities, and no one knows he's here either. Coscarla's down hive, so a covert approach will draw far less attention than a boot through the door, and be far less likely to kill any leads to our heretic. “Find out why and where if you can, better yet, find out how. Best of all, find out who is responsible. Go with the grace of the God-Emperor—oh! And additional samples would be a blessing if you can procure them.” Cutter bent to prostrate himself once more, but caught himself and merely bowed ungracefully. "Are we the first to be sent on this mission, master?" asked Cutter. The Medicae sighed, clearly displeased at being addressed by the beastman. “Cognomen Grim!” he barked, addressing his fellow tech adept. "Yes, sir?" “Please pick up the satchel in the corner marked with your name, and distribute the other two to your companions.” Grim moved to the satchels and did as he was told. “I trust you know how to deactivate the adrenal sensors on the explosive collar, and how to use the manual detonator?” Grim nodded, handing the other two satchels to his companions. Cutter accepted his wordlessly, still attentive to Medicae-Interrogator Sand, but Gunner could not resist a peek inside: Transit tokens to get into and around the Coscarla District; a set of cover identities designating them as registered recovery agents, permitted to carry weapons; some short range voxmitters; lamps; a simple map and data slate detailing the sad recent history of the Coscarla District, including the fire that killed hundreds and sent the district into its current downward spiral. Last, each satchel contained a thick leather overcoat, which Cutter immediately unfurled and attempted to squeeze on over his primitive chain shirt. Sannd spoke up again. “You will also need that,” he said, gesturing to a bio-sample kit containing three pint-sized specimen jars, a medical razor, and a bio-auspex. “The auspex is attuned to anomalous human tissue. If you find any, bring it back for us.” “Are there any questions?” Cutter shook his head emphatically, eager to depart, but his companions appeared to be in no such hurry. “Time-frame?” asked Grim. “It should take you no more than a few days, I trust.” “Understood.” Grim nodded slightly. “Logically, we should interro...talk to the sister…” Gunner nodded in agreement. “Where exactly was the body found? Can we go there right away?” “The body was found on the transit as it pulled into the Coscarla station.” “Has the actual vehicle where the death occured been pulled from service?” asked Gunner, running his mind through the usual paces of the investigator. Cutter pawed at the floor with one hoof, evidently anxious to depart the area. “I am afraid my mind works rather linearly, Gunner. If you could explain your line of reasoning, I might be better able to answer what is gnawing at you.” “I'd like to visit the exact scene of the crime,” said Gunner. “There is little to be gained from that. I have my doubts that his body was actually the scene of the crime. I believe he was dumped.” “Always missing stuff…” Gunner muttered under his breath. “I regret we did not inform you sooner,” said Sannd, his voice dripping with sarcasm… and menace. “If only we had known that a low-functioning Acolyte needed immediate access to the scene of Heresy.” Cutter paled and stepped away from Gunner. “How was he dumped, Medicae?” asked Grim. “Conspicuously, or attempted discretion?” “There was no attempt at discretion, though some effort was made to disguise the death as a drug overdose. If there are no other questions?” “None worth getting burned over…” said Grim, quietly. “Well, Grim,” said Gunner. “Sounds like we, uh, ‘interview’ the sister.” "Thank you for this opportunity, Master Medicae," said Cutter. He bowed once more. Medicae-Interrogator Sannd addressed him at last. “Keep your temper in check, Cutter, but your skills at the ready. Each of you was chosen specifically, and your talents are no less important than the others.” Cutter bobbed his head up and down. "I will, Master, I will." Cutter backed away, still bowing. Gunner eyed him thoughtfully. Together with Grim, they bowed and exited the room, returning to the lift. Once out of sight of the Interrogator, Cutter’s demeanor changed dramatically. "Grim...this collar. It can...do things. Bad things. If I get overexcited. Can you, perhaps...turn off the sensors?" “Is there a need for that right this moment?” asked Gunner, nervously. Cutter grunted. "I suspect I could become...agitated… during the course of our work." Grim thought it over. The manual detonator was probably safer at this point. “Yes, Cutter. I will turn down the adrenal sensors.” The journey to Coscarla took several hours by transit rail car, during which time they had to change cars repeatedly (into increasingly dilapidated and vandalised cars), and their pass tokens and cognomen were repeatedly checked by suspicious Magistratum enforcers, dull eyed carriage servitors, and unctuous looking officials. As their journey progressed, they passed from the relatively open spaces and clean air of the government district, down and across whole hive levels, past collapsed finery and the fallen architectural splendours of the "good of olden days," through vast steel skyvaults filled with endless rows of hab-stacks and kilometre after 10 kilometre of thunderous manufactora. The further they traveled, the more depressed, ill-maintained and decayed things became; they had reached the lower stretches of the mid hive; beyond which no transit rails ran, the outer circle of the underhive where no law holds sway. Long stretches of the journey were spent in the stale tainted air of the wormhole-like tunnel passageways within the Hive's thick supporting bones and in the nameless black voids of deserted spaces between. The car's lights flickered and failed regularly. Alone in a single car, now deserted but for their group, the rattling carriage at last broke into another vast and dilapidated hab-vault and began to slow. They looked out upon a vista of vacant and decayed buildings in a worse state than any that they had seen up so far, stretching beyond sight into a dark horizon beyond. The rail car shuddered to a stop and the doors opened onto a wide, raised platform devoid of passengers save for a single huddled figure dressed in rags. The figure quickly bundled himself onboard, flashing a pass to the door mechanism with unseemly haste and taking up a seat as far from their group as possible. A moment later a dull, crackling servitor intoned: "Coscarla Southern Railhead. Passengers to Coscarla to disembark. This conveyance will depart in…" The rest was lost in a howl of static. They had arrived in Coscarla. [/QUOTE]
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