The sound of clothe on metal could be heard inside the ship's armory. With deliberate care, Sister Jaina ran the oiled cloth down the mirror blade's length, working any dust off of the blade. She hadn't wanted to watch the world burn, but inside her very soul she felt it none the less.
After all, she had left forty nine sisters down there.
Jaina admitted she was lucky to be alive. When whatever had tried to wack the Inquisitor had failed, Jaina had taken point all the way to the evac point, but still she was worried.
Once aboard the vessel Jaina had at once asked to send a long distance message to her Order, letting them know of the fate of the former fifty. But considering the distance between where her Order had been and where she was now, it looked like she would be stuck with these odd folks for a little while at least.
She had then gone to the chapel, prayed for around an hour and then moved down here. And aside from meals and runs to the holy washroom, here she had stayed.
One, if was comforting to be surrounded by enough ordinance to level a city.
Two, it was buried in the heart of the ship and had no windows to watch the planet burn.
Three, it was often quiet, which left her time to think.
Jaina was a bit of an odd duck in her own Order. For she had one thing most other sisters didn't.
Doubt.
The saying “Bless the mind too small for doubt” didn't apply to Jaina that well. She just questioned everything...
Dreams of Revenge
Drake watched the death of a world from the controls of the Lysander, trying and failing to tear his gaze away from the deathly beauty of the Exterminatus. It was a terrible thing to behold, and despite the necessity of it he could not help but feel it was a waste of a planet. If - when - he became an Inquisitor, he would make sure that he'd avoid this wherever possible. If you rendered the planets under your rule into lifeless husks, what was there left to rule over? Admittedly, the galaxy was almost impossibly vast, so losing even several world was almost a drop in an ocean. He felt a visceral reaction to it nonetheless.
And those Chaos abominations... the Guardsman shivered as he recalled the creatures. Perhaps, in some ways, it had been a mercy that Vitalstatix had been purged in such a violent fashion. Although they hadn't gotten most of them, killing even a few was enough for Drake. Quietly muttering a prayer to the Emperor, he finally managed to distract himself with readouts from the displays nearby (as well as making sure that the Lysander didn't get too close to any of the other ships).
Locking you up on radar since '09
Flandre took Remilia's hand and squeezed it comfortingly. She looked to Sakuya for a second before looking back to her sister. "I know. Next time, we'll get whoever did this and make sure it doesn't happen again, right Sakuya? No one gets to mess with the Scarlets while I'm around." She said, trying to cheer up the atmosphere.
-Elsewhere.-
-On the imperiled rogue trader Nova Lucre, Captain Ephialtes feverishly punched in the final combination of runes that would activate the voxcaster. As the reinforced doors to the bridge started buckling in, he struggled to make the message as clear and concise as possible. Amid the hurried prayers and the horrible screams, he noticed the first mate was actually marshalling the dozen or so surviving crewmen into a line, lasguns at the ready. A futile gesture, but he had been a Guardsman, and damned if he didn't present himself before the Emperor having done his duty to the last.-
-As the doors fell in, the crew opened fire as one, their lasguns shredding the first wave of roiling horrors. All for naught, as the nightmares made real simply ran over the twitching fallen. Out of the corner of his eye Ephialtes saw the first mate try to shoot again, before a pulsating mass of iridescent green and brown dragged him to the floor. He hit the final rune just as a five-mouthed daemon rammed its claws through his chest. As he drew his last ragged breath, his eyes fell on the relic that they had found, that could have made every last deckhand rich enough to buy a planet if sold to the right buyer, that could have changed the fate of the entire sector.-
-Some time later, the astropathic choir of the Lysander picks up a transmission.-
+++ This... This is Captain Ephialtes of the merchant ship Nova Lucre. The ship is lost, we are about to be overrun by *BOOM*arp scum! If there are any who receive this message, I beg of *BOOM* to avenge us! We found a relic that could change everything, a *BOOM* that can bring salvation to us all! Take it, that the galaxy might be taught! Save urgllll...+++
-Here the understandable part of the message ends, the rest being only screams and guttural bellows, ending with a nausea-inducing fleshy sound. The sender's coordinates remain perfectly legible, originating from somewhere in the Remina system.-
“Quiet right.” Agreed another voice from the doorway as Jaina walked inside. She had the mirror blade on her hip and the Inferno Pistol holstered in the small of her back but she had left the Flamer in the armory. With explicit instructions that if anyone touched it she would set them on fire.
Reaching up, Jaina twisted her helmet and pulled it off. Not surprisingly, Jaina's hair was kept almost buzz cut length. It was a bright white but her eyes were the brightest blue as she pull a metal chair over and sat down with a creak of metal. The chair protested the power armor's weight but it didn't give out. With the ship's lighting Jaina appeared exceptionally pale.
“You're lucky to be alive. Most beings would have been torn to shreds by that trap.”
edited 2nd Oct '12 4:57:14 PM by RevenVrake
Tech-Philosopher
Akusigos stood at the bridge and observed the Exterminatus with a frown, while it was true that the planet was too far gone, and that the STC had been recovered, the ringleader of the Hereteks had gotten away, especially after effectively destroying the knowledge required to reproduce the psionic inhibitor, a truly unforgivable act in the Techpriest's eye-dot.
"I sincerely hope we cross paths with that Heretek again, so that I may personally destroy him" said Akusigos in a calm tone, with only the sudden brightening of his eye-dot as he spoke betraying the anger that was boiling beneath the surface.
— Staff Sergeant Corollianus walked back to his quarters when he had seen enough. The flames of the Exterminatus seared themselves into his mind's eye, never to be forgotten. That he was hundreds of thousands of miles away from the destruction did not reduce his feeling of it.
He had seen many horrors in his life and service to the Emperor, and an Exterminatus was among the worst. So much meaningless death and loss in an instant. A grand and terrible waste of resources.
But he understood why it was necessary. He understood that the costs to the Imperium at large would have been greater, had the Ruinous Powers controlled Vitalstatix. A Daemon World was never worth risking. He understood also the toll this operation had on Chaos, for their Traitors were not so easily replaced.
He had resigned himself to the sights of slaughter long ago. But he did not wish to see another Exterminatus.
— A day or so later, the priority message indicator on the bridge triggered. —
BREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE..
edited 28th Oct '12 11:37:58 AM by Colonial1.1
All of thirty seconds later, Inquisitor Arcturus emerged onto the bridge, wearing a bathrobe, of all things. (Which he didn't look as though he cared much about at all at the moment, it was his ship, and he could change the dress code whenever he pleased.) It also looked as though he'd been interrupted mid-sleep, and this he was less than appreciative about. The cybernetically enhanced psyker was attempting to quell an upcoming headache by rubbing his hand against the side of his head as he strode over to the screaming console. He patched the message through with the press of two runes, both movements a little more forceful than what was strictly necessary - but he'd silenced it, at least.
Then he took a breath, turned to the hololith projector and tried to look respectable.
When in deadly danger, When beset by doubt, Run in little circles, Wave your arms and shout.
— About five seconds later, the familiar giant gilded I and staring skull materialised on a deep green background, the colours of the Ordo Xenos. A motto appeared in front of the skull in gilded letters, "Suffer Not The Alien To Live". Next, an unmistakable age-weathered but still energetic voice spoke up, distorted slightly by static. There was a grave undertone to the voice, however friendly the words were. —
"Hello there, Arcturus. Thom here. Can't show my face, currently in parts unfriendly. Catch you at a bad time?"
— While he spoke, a map of the Galaxy formed in front of the Inquisitorial sigil, which zoomed in on the Ultima Segmentum, then marked a small part of it in gold. The map zoomed in again, and this gold-marked territory now filled the screen, black cursive letters "above" it spelling out "Sector Xerxes". To the right side of this territory was visible a system circled with gold, marked "Sophocles". The map zoomed in once more, stars rushing past. It now showed a glittering sphere of metal and light, titled "Tiraxus". A smaller window popped up from the upper corner of the planet's orbit, displaying a vast gleaming shape, like a mushroom or top, with a long, tapering spire pointed towards Tiraxus. —
edited 9th Oct '13 5:06:57 PM by Colonial1.1
Arcturus perked up immediately once he saw what was being displayed. The sector capital, his home world. When he spoke, his tone was highly measured and cautious.
"What am I looking at, Thomas?"
When in deadly danger, When beset by doubt, Run in little circles, Wave your arms and shout.
— Across the structure, a dozen or so lines of Gothic indicated system statuses, enemy positions, and hull weaknesses.
A large, vivid green skull with jagged teeth superimposed itself over the station. The older Inquisitor answered. —
"What I'm showing you is the Persepolis sky-hook luxury resort. A band of Orkz have taken control of it, and have repelled any attempt to take it back, by either boarding or naval attack. Worse is that members of the Sector Council were aboard. The rest of the Ork WAAAGH! is keeping our Sector Fleet busy further away in the system..."
—The main picture zoomed out a little from the planet to display the rest of the system. Dozens of green skulls and aquilas(lines of Gothic text describing force distribution beneath them) spread across the area, indicating concentrations of both fleets. —
"The invasion isn't the reason I sent this to you. It's the Orkz on the station. There's something weird about them. For a start, they didn't send the skyhook into freefall towards the planet. The Greenskins have dug in up there, and to the best of our knowledge they Haven't slaughtered all aboard. Reports from Guard survivors of the boarding parties are saying something about 'new' looking weaponry on their Nobs, not cobbled together or looted Imperial. They've been using some kind of energy cannon mounted on their vessel to force back ships of size, combined with what look like mines. The approach planetside looks less guarded, though. More precise info might be available with Sector Command."
— The audio speakers crackled a moment. —
"Are you willing to check it out, Arcturus? This mission could give us a clearer look on what this sector is facing."
Arcturus stared at the display, apparently reaching a decision.
"I'll set a course there immediately. With some luck we can salvage the situation and find out more about this threat. I'll let you get back to work. Lysander out."
He closed the communications link - and opened shipwide intercom instead. This was probably going to wake up most of his crew, he noted.
Oh well.
"Attention all hands. Something has come up. Prepare for immediate transition to the Warp, we are setting a course for the sector capital - Tiraxus. Please gather on the command deck for briefing in one hour. I repeat, briefing in one hour. We have our work cut out for us, ladies and gentlemen... Prepare for possible operations in vacuum. That is all for now."
When in deadly danger, When beset by doubt, Run in little circles, Wave your arms and shout.
Flandre's head shot up out of bed when Arcturus spoke over the intercom. She groaned as she sat up in bed and tried to pay attention, though her half awake brain was having some trouble. The most she got was that they needed to go to the command deck in an hour and something about a vacuum. The youngest Scarlet grumbled as she climbed out of bed and got dressed for work, cursing the bad guys that couldn't wait until morning.
Not too long later the vampire was floating her way down the halls, letting out a yawn as she went. It was a good thing shes been through the Lysander so many times, she knew what turns to make by heart at this point. Soon enough she found her way to the command deck and hovered her way inside.
-Trogg's face lights up as the Inquisitor talks to him from the ceiling, as this is usually followed by punching more enemies of the Emperor. He heads for the command deck, eagerly wondering what sort of enemies will be punched this time, vaguely registering the presence of the other, other Inquisitor's sister.-
An hour later Zee was on the command deck, dressed in her usual attire and looking a great deal more haggard than usual. She gave a tired nod in Flandre's direction, unable to manage anything more than that in terms of greeting.
The Living Saint's slumber had not been peaceful, to put it mildly—in her dreams she had found herself revisiting the mission to Vitalstatix over and over again, trying to figure out what had gone wrong and what could have been done to make things turn out differently. Perhaps if they had acted faster, Governor Mortis might still be alive; perhaps if she had been faster, the Dark Magos and his entourage would not have escaped into the Warp to menace the Imperium another day.
But you weren't, a small part of her mind seemed to whisper. You can run through the scenario a hundred times, a thousand, a million. You can agonize over what could have been, should have been, would have been until the stars themselves gutter and die. In the end, it makes no difference; you simply weren't good enough.
A determined expression came to her face, her sunken red eyes gleaming with new resolve. Well, that would not happen again this time; no more would be made to suffer because she was lacking. Whatever this mission to the sector capital entailed, she would carry out her objectives to the very best of her ability and beyond. On this mission, she would settle for nothing less than perfection. They deserved no less from her.
She deserved no less.
The Danse Macabre Codex
Sakuya woke up to the sound of Arcturus' commands, and groaned softly as she had to leave her warm and comfortable sheets and start the day earlier than intended. Nevertheless, she got out of her bed and started getting herself ready for preparing things for her mistresses.
In the twenty-five minutes after waking, there was little about Sakuya that was anywhere near the description of perfect and elegant except perhaps the haste of which she prepared herself. She washed herself, carefully sprayed on her Synskin and donned her outfit for battle-operations in nine minutes and twenty-five seconds. There was no time to go over her knives at this moment, but she had performed the necessary maintenance the day before, and their edges had simply not had the time to become dull.
Sakuya studied herself in the mirror for another four minutes and fifteen seconds, arranging her hair and applying her make-up. Some would perhaps call this vain considering that they were going on a battle-mission, but she agreed with her mistress in that appearances were important. And, Sakuya thought with a slight degree of irritation, not all women woke up in the morning looking as perfect as a certain immortal Living Saint.
One minute and four seconds were used in carefully inspecting her face and hair for any emerging signs of physical aging. Through the combined efforts of rejuvenat and her own special magic, she had looked the same for over a hundred years, but it helped to keep an eye out for when time was catching up to her again. Although her mistress was dependant on her, Remilia might decide that Sakuya was getting ready for being left behind in Gensokyo to watch the mansion if she was becoming too old. A worrying thought to be sure. Sakuya's place was with her mistress.
A brief glance at her watch told Sakuya that she was beginning to strain the time she had to herself in these early morning hours. Her face settled in the calm but alert expression of the Head Maid of the Scarlet household. It was time to move on.
Sakuya moved briskly through the corridors, heading towards the cafeteria. On the way there, she checked up on the two Lunar Rabbits and made sure they were getting themselves ready. Sleeping in space and the Warp had synchronized the two sisters' sleeping schedules, but the only noticeable change was that there were two sleepy rabbits at once instead of one. Jisen was even attempting to put on her uniform trousers the wrong way around. Sakuya spent forty-five seconds to straighten them out and then let them sort the rest out themselves.
Finally arriving at the kitchens, Sakuya got started on one of her most important tasks of her day; making the morning tea for her mistresses. The important mixture of Gensokyoan peach tea leaves and boiling water was carefully prepared, and a perfectly measured drop of blood was added from a special bottle marked "DO NOT DRINK! BY INQUISITORIAL DECREE!" As the water boiled, Sakuya ate her own hurried breakfast before finishing the tray for her mistress.
With twenty-eight minutes left of the hour, Sakuya arrived at Remilia's chambers. Flandre had already left her chambers, which did not surprise the maid. The younger sister was no longer dependant on Sakuya when it came to getting out of bed, a sign of her maturing and becoming more independent over the years. As for Remilia, well, that was another case entirely.
The lavender-haired vampire was still asleep when Sakuya entered, but she slowly stirred when Sakuya came close.
Good morning, mistress. Did you sleep well?
The sleepy response from her mistress confirmed that even vampires wouldn't have minded sleeping a bit more.
Good, mm, morning, Sakuya. Is breakfast ready?
Without a word, Sakuya dropped to one knee beside her mistress and uncovered her pale neck. She did not even flinch as the vampire's fangs sank into her veins and drunk her blood. When her mistress was done, she calmly arose again, not feeling the faint itching as the bite wounds disappeared, courtesy of Remilia's magic.
The next twenty minutes was spent on getting her mistress washed, dressed and ready. Remilia slowly sipped her tea as Sakuya took care of brushing and arranging the vampire's hair.
And then, eight and a half minutes later, thirty seconds before the hour was gone, Remilia entered the bridge clad in her personal battle-attire. With her perfect and elegant maid at her side.
edited 15th Dec '12 4:26:30 PM by Lemurian
Join us in our quest to play all RPG video games! Moving on to disc 2 of Grandia!
By the time the other had made it to the bridge, the Inquisitor had donned something more suitable than a bathrobe, but curiously, it was not his customary coat and carapace armour he was wearing this time around, nor was it the black shirt and fatigues he seemed to favor whenever he was not expecting combat in the immediate future. Judging by the three servitors surrounding him, it seemed as though he was still in the process of fully equipping it - their assorted mechanical limbs busying themselves with affixing plating and activating connection points between the hardened outer shell and the synthetic undersuit. After a few more moments, the set of light power armour was fully assembled, minus helmet, and Arcturus carefully tried moving while the suit pressurized itself with a sharp hiss.
After taking two steps and almost tripping over his own feet due to his unfamiliarity with the mechanically assisted movements, he sighed and shook his head.
"This... Will take some getting used to. Haven't had to use this in... what, fifty years? I think it's been that long, at least. Just as damned uncomfortable with it every time. Anyway. Let me tell you the reason I've put this thing on."
He made a gesture towards the hololith display. Again, the movement was much wider and uncontrolled than intended.
"Thomas is telling me that there is an Ork problem in the capital system of Xerxes, and the strategic data I requested from the defending forces seems to agree. Luckily for us, the Orks have not yet made landfall and the situation has been confined to this installation here, the Persepolis orbital skyhook. The Orks have taken full control of this luxury resort, and the reason the Navy is hesistant to simply scuttle it and call it a day is because there are confirmed survivors on board. VI Ps, as a matter of fact - members of the Sector Council."
He paces a little, trying to get re-familiarized with the suit of armour.
"Our mission is pretty clear. Since the Navy is having trouble approaching with larger ships due to minefields and some kind of large-scale energy weapon the Orks have equipped on their craft, we will attempt to get on board by approaching from a vector that the Ork cannon can't target. We'll still have to contend with the minefields but I will be counting on Mister Lycetta and our on-board weapons systems to alleviate that problem. Note that all previous boarding attempts have failed, so we might have to get inventive with our method of entry. Our primary goals will be extracting the VI Ps and neutralizing the Ork threat. Our secondary objective is to secure civilians we encounter on the way."
He smiled faintly.
"On a side note... Tiraxus is my home world. I'd like to see it safe, as you might understand, for nostalgic reasons. Do any of you have questions?"
edited 14th Nov '12 4:59:18 AM by l3wt
When in deadly danger, When beset by doubt, Run in little circles, Wave your arms and shout.
Izumi, surprisingly, seemed to be the most adjusted to the early hours out of everyone else on the ship. The lunar rabbit sprung out of bed when she heard Arcturus's message over the intercom. Since she was not used to that she assumed that whatever was going on was pretty serious. She chose to don her armor instead of her normal clothing while on the ship. It took a bit longer than she expected so she had to rush through making sure her med-kit was fully stocked before rushing out of the med-bay. The Sister arrived shortly before the vampire inquisitor and took her place towards the back of the room. She visibly paled when she heard that they were up against orks this time.
Flandre returned Zee's nod with one of her own while yawning, apparently feeling the same as the holy saint. She rubbed her eyes and tried her best to wake herself up. By the time her older sister and maid arrived, Flandre forced herself to look more professional. She put on a stern expression, which looked out of place on her, and watched in confusion as Arcturus put on his armor.
She slowly made her way over to take her place next to her sister as Arcturus explained the situation. The expression on her face brightened greatly when she heard the mention of Orkz. The young vampiress couldn't help herself, Orkz were by far the most fun bad guys to fight in the galaxy. She could still remember the time she spent with a band of them in the Scarlet Devil Mansion. One could say Flandre was well versed in the ways of the Orkz, well at least compared to your average soldier.
Once Arcturus was done explaining the general plan, Flandre pumped her fist and let out a quiet "Yessssss!" The fatigue she was feeling before was melting off of her as her excitement grew. Now she was trying to decide if she wanted to bring Lavatein or her chainsword for the fight.
-Trogg is now happy as a Harpagon Prime deathclam, for among the many, many complicated words the Inquisitor used ( such as lujjree, purse a pollis, leviate and ubjektiv) was orks, and they are among Trogg's most favorite enemies to punch. Unlike the badmen who do not love the Emperor (those that don't yell about blood, at least), they are just as eager to get to the punching parts and never use tactics that could outwit an ogryn. Even at half punching capacity, Trogg is more than ready to meet the foe head-on. Then he notices the rabbit-girl's discomfort.-
Why 'zumi sick? Us punching orks today!
edited 13th Nov '12 10:13:01 AM by Chabal2
Tech-Philosopher
Akusigos, who did not care much for sleep, had gotten out of the chair that he often slept in, put on his armor and robe, checked his weapons and chemicals, and was at the bridge within the hour allotted to him. Upon hearing Arcturus' briefing, his eye-dot flattened into a line as he said "Orks? taking prisoners? I'm no xenologist but that does not sound like something a warlike race like the Orks would do..."
Arcturus looked to the tech-priest.
"Indeed. Which makes this all the more unusual. Something that might be of interest to you, Akusigos, is that the orks on the station were reportedly equipped with more advanced technology than is typical. If you could provide analysis on whatever we find, I would be most grateful."
When in deadly danger, When beset by doubt, Run in little circles, Wave your arms and shout.
Zee frowned thoughtfully, her earlier thoughts banished from her mind as she listened to the situation report. "This is very unusual behaviour for Greenskins," she mused. "I'm surprised that they haven't simply tried crashing the skyhook into Tiraxus; if nothing else it would get them onto the planet faster. And for them to take hostages is practically unheard of, as Akusigos said. When you take that into consideration along with everything else..."
The Living Saint shook her head. "Something isn't right here. There is a method to this madness, though what that might be is beyond me at present."
The Danse Macabre Codex
The Inquisitor seated himself in the bridge's command throne - ascending the few steps to the seat with a small degree of awkwardness.
"Conventional logic would suggest that if they're not trying to destroy the skyhook, or use it to make landfall, then they hope to gain something else from this enterprise... If conventional logic even applies to Greenskins, that is. We're going to have to assume there is a reason they've kept the civilians and Council members alive. Hopefully we'll discover the reason when we find the prisoners."
When in deadly danger, When beset by doubt, Run in little circles, Wave your arms and shout.
Dreams of Revenge
Drake, for his part, had fallen out of his bunk with an undignified thump as Arcturus's message played over the intercom. Groaning slightly as he tried to shake off the last vestiges of his fatigue, he had scrambled to get ready, keeping an eye on his chrono at all times as though he might die if seperated from it. His armour and uniform were particularly recalcitrant this morning*, snagging and proving uncomfortable no matter how he flexed and struggled.
In the end he was forced to cut his losses and hope that he didn't look like he had come through a hedge of killer bushes backwards, which was something he was not best pleased about. He liked to look presentable, even if the only thing he would be meeting was enemy fire rather than another noble. He had arrived at the command deck in a fast walk that looked poised to metamorphise into a jog at any moment and listened to the briefing.
This did not sound good at all. Whenever something could be described as "unusual", it inevitably meant "deadly" and "bad news", two things that Drake Lycetta was less than fond of. The fact that he would have to run the gauntlet of mines above his Inquisitor's homeworld of all things did little to raise his spirits either. But, for everyone else's sake, he was determined to do his best (that, and he was strictly at the sharp end if he ended up having the Lysander blunder into a mine). Arcturus's power armour wasn't a good sign in the least. The comments about the Orks' unusual behaviour set gears in his mind turning, though only with a little forceful prodding.
"Sir, I know this might be foolish, but..." Drake forced himself to finish what he started. "...Do you think this could have anything to do with those Orks we fought on that desert planet? The threat posed by them was eliminated, but what if other greenskins have adopted their... idiosyncrasies?"
Almost as soon as he finished speaking he felt like a dolt. How could you get from Orks spilling their own blood for a ritual to holding Imperials hostages? It seemed like too far a leap to be likely. Something else must be responsible. Drake kept his gaze on the figure on the command throne, awaiting Arcturus's response.
Locking you up on radar since '09
Ichisen and Jisen were on the bridge, witnessing the scene of destruction below. Tears were flowing from Jisen's eyes and Ichisen had her fists so tightly curled that they her nails were close to drawing blood. An Exterminatus was a terrible thing to behold, and to witness the ease of which it tore an entire planet to shreds was devastating. Yet they made themselves watch. This was part of the harsh reality of the Imperium of Man...they were not in Gensokyo any more.
Sakuya sat beside the bed where Remilia lay, watching over her mistresses. It was unforgivable that someone had managed to slip by her to be able to set a trap like for her mistress. While it was unlikely her best efforts could have prevented the assassin once Remilia had sent her away with Sister Jaina, Sakuya blamed herself.
Remilia smiled at her sister, trying not to look too serious. She had recovered from far worse wounds, and so had Flandre. But still, she didn't like worrying her sister. Remilia grasped Flandre's hand and held it tight.
"Don't worry, Flandre. I'll be back to normal in a couple of days."
Join us in our quest to play all RPG video games! Moving on to disc 2 of Grandia!