Child of Man (40K) +15: Harlequinade

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HSRTG
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Post by HSRTG »

You assume that I want the Inquisition to find her.
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Post by Academia Nut »

HSRTG wrote:You assume that I want the Inquisition to find her
HERETIC! You shall burn with the foul xenos scum for your crime of sympathy!

That said, poor Tanith is in a massive rock and a hard place. On the one hand, her biological relatives are probably going to get her adoptive parents in front of her eyes if the Inquisition doesn't get there first, and she's unlikely to actually appreciate what they think is best for her. On the other hand, the people who she seems to identify the most with will be actively trying to torture her to insanity before burning her alive. Plus as an untrained psyker there is always the chance of have her brain explode when a daemon takes a bit too much interest in her. Incidentally, if she dies now, she dies without a soul stone, and we all know the fate of Eldar who die like that. So its death on three sides with being devoured by an evil deity of sadomasochism for afters.

This is going to be fun. :D
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Post by Elheru Aran »

Indeed.

Part four!

++++++++++++++++++++++

In town; Yorkis, regional subsector capital

As the quad rumbled down the main dirt street through town, the mountains towering nearby, amber waves of grain flowing down their slopes, Tanith Kalden looked about wide-eyed. This was the first time she had been to town in a fair while (Mart had taken Tomas the last two months ago), and excitedly she looked about for anything new.

But in this distant corner of the Imperium of Man, there simply wasn’t much. A few shopkeepers had perhaps repainted their fronts; perhaps there were more old quads on the streets than before; and there was a new promethium dispenser in town (carefully watched by the wizened lay brother assigned to collect the 20-Imperials per gallon fee, sitting in a rickety booth). None of that interested her, and she sat back down, brooding. Mari looked up from her knitting and reached back over the front seat’s back, adjusting Tanith’s hood, fussing gently at her, “You need to keep that better, dear. The arbites here have become more rough with anybody they see as not being right, and those ears of yours will set them off, dear…”

With a barely audible grumble she slouched down in her seat, glaring out the window—and then everything was forgotten as she perked up, eyes wide.

Across the street, on the porch of Harrid’s Kitchen (a local eatery of some repute; Tomas had taken them there once, and she’d quite enjoyed her soylens noodles), a young man reclined, feet up on the porch rail. Stubble peppered his chin, but underneath the broad-brimmed hat he wore, his features were handsome enough if rugged. Despite that, she could tell he was young… not more than a few years older than her. Intrigued immediately, she lifted up her hand and tried to catch his eye as she waved lightly…

He grinned, white teeth flashing in his tanned face, and lifted up a hand to the brim of his hat. She sat back, flushing happily, smiling gladly. Tomas cleared his throat loudly, and was about to say something when he jerked slightly; Mari’s needles resumed clacking, a faint smile on her face.

They parked in front of Simwal’s Emporium, one of the larger local stores; Simwal himself boasted about having opened one in Livarpudl, on the coast, which was cause for some humour among those who knew that Livarpudl was even smaller and mankier than Yorkis. Tomas stepped down out of the quad, walked about and helped Mari down, then went to the bed to heft out a load of tanned leather and furs upon the high dock in front of the store. Clambering up to stand by it, waiting for one of the store’s adepts to come and weigh the skins for him, he nodded at them as they gathered their dairy produce and walked into the store.

Behind the doors, the wizened servitor stuck into the floor creaked out, “Have-a-very-nice-day-may-I-help-you?” at their entrance. Lifting her eyebrow at the incongruous ‘Hello My Name Is: BIL685’ tag stuck crookedly upon its torso, Mari shook her head and gestured to Tanith to grab one of the wire carts in a line by the door. Stacking the butter and milk jars within, they took it to the farm purchases counter in back, where they haggled for an hour over the price.

By the time Tomas walked in with his own cart, filled with some purchases, they had settled upon twenty-five Imperials by the kilo for butter and the same per litre of milk, netting them a nice deal. The register-servitor creaked out the total and vended the correct amount out in a plastic card; Mari took it and nodded to Tanith.

She spoke briefly to Tomas, handed her list to him and waited as he scratched off the items he’d bought, then took it back and they went down to the dry-goods section. Tanith looked at Mari, and asked hopefully, “Mama? Can you buy this stuff for me? I want to go out and take a walk…”

Mari’s lips pursued, and she stopped briefly by a window, looking up and down the street. Straightening up, she sighed and then nodded. Her voice full of trepidation, she added, “Be very careful with your hood, dear. Don’t go near any arbites. And please stay on the high street, I don’t want you getting lost. Be back when the second chime sounds, please?”

She grinned and threw her arms around her mother’s neck, hugging tight, whispering a happy “Thank you!” into her ear, and then turned around and lightly strolled to the entrance where, avoiding the servitor (now spitting sparks as one of the store’s adepts started kicking it), she left the Emporium.

Out in the world on her own at last, she breathed the intoxicating air of freedom… and wrinkled her nose at the smell of a backed-up sewage pipe that was currently gushing foul effluvia onto the already-muddy street. Shaking her head at herself, she ran out upon the dock and leaped lightly to the boardwalk, took a moment to compose herself, and then calmly set out down the street, her head high.

She knew where she was going; Harrid’s Kitchen. It only took a brief time to get there—but when she arrived, there was nobody sitting on the porch. Her brow furrowed as she continued walking past—and then she started, jumping backwards ungracefully as she walked right into a broad chest. Landing right on her bum, she looked upward, startled, as the tall man bent down, holding out his hand.

Flushing deeply in embarrassment as she realized it was the very guy she’d waved at earlier, she looked away as she came to her feet, holding his hand, batting the dirt off the rear of her skirt. To avoid looking at him, she turned her body and tried vainly to check out her rear, see if there was any mud; and then she glimpsed him grinning at her and burst out, “It’s not funny! Why were you in my way anyway, sir?!”

“Now, now, hold on there…” he began, holding up his hands, his tone placatory, but she wouldn’t have any truck with that, and kept going, “I thought you were a gentleman earlier but then you get right in my way when I’m just walking down the street and now I have mud on my skirt thanks to you why can’t you leave well enough alone I’m not interested in you anymore good day sir!”

And she turned around and flounced back down the way she’d come… and froze when a resounding *riiiiiiiip* rose up from behind her. Instantly she knew she’d torn her skirt; reaching around behind, she felt that the tear went all the way up to her bloomers. Flustered, she yanked her skirt but only succeeded in tearing it more. Angrily, she let her breath out gustily, and then turned around with difficulty (not wanting to fall into the mud puddle right nearby), bending down to free it from the nail it had snagged upon; but her hands met his, as he bent down to do that.

She looked at him, deeply flustered, the color rising high in her cheeks; and as she met his light blue eyes, shining brightly out of his dark face, her breath caught. He gently handed the torn hem of her skirt to her, then stood up and took off his hat, pulling the brightly coloured serape over his head and holding it out. “Might want to hold this there for now, ma’am. Don’t want to be showing off your unmentionables to the whole town.”

Lifting her head, she mustered what tatters of her dignity remained (which was considerable, surprisingly enough), and in a voice cold enough to freeze hydrogen responded, “Thank you very much, but I shall be fine. Good day, sir!”

The board under her foot chose to break off at that moment just as she swept around to walk back to the store, and with helpless inevitability she saw the puddle coming up to meet her face…

A strong arm wrapped itself around her waist, and held her up. His voice whispered in her ear through the hood, “You can give me as hard of a time as you want, lady, but you aren’t gonna un-interest me anytime soon. Now please take the serape?”

Standing back up on a more stable portion of the boardwalk, meekly she took the proffered cloth and wrapped it about her waist; not looking up at him, she nodded when he asked if she was going back to Simwal’s. He offered to walk her back there, and with a twinkle in his eye added “You might as well have someone beside you to keep you from falling into any more puddles…”

Flushing deeply, she gave the boardwalk a fierce glare (amazingly enough, it didn’t shatter explosively at that) and nodded, shoulders hunching in irritation as she stepped forward, seeing his shadow parallel hers. He began commenting lightly upon the latest events in town, but she paused, looking down a dirt alley between two buildings, brow furrowed. He stopped a step or two ahead of her and looked back, asking, “What is it, ma’am? You heard something there?”

“Yes… some kind of small cry? Like a baby cygnid or something… in that rubbish heap there?” she answered, pointing to the midden in question. He peered closely at it, and then turned to her briefly and inquired, “Do you want me to check it out?”

She nodded, and he carefully stepped through the mud until he was between the buildings, probing with his pointed boot toe through the trash. She saw him freeze, and then carefully bend down, pushing his hands through the garbage, coming up with what looked like nothing more than a mass of rags—but as he approached, the sound she’d heard became louder. He held it out to her, and bringing up her hand, she pulled aside the rags; and before her eyes, a human baby scrunched its eyes shut and began bawling.

Exchanging startled looks with him, she jumped as an official voice hollered, “Hold it right there, citizen! What do you have there?”
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Post by Hawkwings »

Deja vu...

Who's willing to bet that that man is part of the inquisitor's crew? And is a psyker to boot?
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Post by Singular Quartet »

Well, given how 40k likes that whole "Horrible things happening to (relatively) nice people" idea, I'm gonna throw my wait behind that thought.
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Post by HSRTG »

I doubt it. I think its a local law enforcer who's going to get lucky. Of course, whether he stays lucky when the Interrogator arrives is a whole other issue.
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Post by Ford Prefect »

I would agree - it's probably an Arbite.
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Post by Dartzap »

Hmm, do I notice a Good Omens reference there? :wink:

It's looking damn good El, More I say! More!
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Post by Lindar »

Babies aren't nice traps
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Post by LadyTevar »

I'm waiting to see how it's resolved.
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Post by Elheru Aran »

LadyTevar wrote:I'm waiting to see how it's resolved.
This particular bit? You don't have long to wait, actually. The rest of it? Welllll... :wink:

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++
A local arbitrator bustled up, panting, his uniform jacket hanging unbuttoned over a portly stomach and helmet dangling from his belt. He flashed his identification rosette, and then stared at the child. Behind him, Tomas bustled out of the store, followed by Mari (both pushing loaded carts). When they saw the scene before them, they let the carts go regardless of their loads and ran down the boardwalk, working their way through the small group that was gathering.

Once they made it through, Tomas panted out, “Is there a problem, officer? …Tanith, what is that?”

“It’s a child, Da. We found him in that rubbish heap there. We don’t know whose he is, but corporal Dahltan here wants us to take him to the prefect headquarters and run a check of his blood codes. Is that okay?”

Tomas sighed, his brow furrowed, and the man by Tanith (she realized she didn’t even know his name) quietly commented, “It won’t hurt. They only want to test the child, not us—they’re looking for his parents. Um, speaking of which, I think it needs changing…” and he held it out from his body abruptly.

Mari took it from his hands and cradled it in her arms, and gave Tomas a look that spoke volumes. Shaking his head, Tomas stepped back and held out his arm, hand pointing to the quad. He asked Dahltan, “Will you escort us to the prefect? To ensure that everything’s in order, you understand…”

The arbitrator nodded, and began walking through the mud to the truck. Tomas turned to the tanned herdsman, and blinked as he saw the gentleman wasn’t there. Raising a hand and smoothing the hairs upon his neck down, he turned to the quad and entering it, cranked it to life.

At the arbites prefect headquarters, Mari cradled the boy in a clean blanket one of the female arbitrators had located for him; they’d also requisitioned the necessary pieces of infant haberdashery as well, so the kid was clothed (and washed, thankfully!). She shushed it as it began whimpering again, and as it wiggled in her arms Tanith reached over from where she sat by her mother to stroke its hand with a finger. She whispered, “That adept wasn’t very nice, now, was he, dear boy? No, no he wasn’t, he stuck you with that great big needle and wasn’t very nice about it…”

Mari smiled at Tanith, and inwardly sighed in relief. She looked up as the tech-adept came back in, holding a long strip of parchment apparently spat forth from whatever cogitator device analyzed the child’s blood. In his mechanical voice, the adept clacked out, +++ Parents are Andarsen, Rebert and Keliantales. Known offenders in regard to appropriately nourishing and bringing up young citizens of the Imperium. Currently three warrants outstanding. We are aware of two children of theirs, which were abandoned in similar fashion. We will take it now. Thank you for your assistance, citizens. +++

Tanith bristled and stood up, facing down the adept. She growled, “And let you take him and bend him in the scholas for your armies or machine worshippers? I think not. Is there not some way we can adopt him, Corporal Dahltan?”

The well-fed arbitrator mopped his brow and slowly commented, “It’s not protocol, but it could be done. I don’t see why not provided you’re willing to take good care of the boy…”

She smiled eagerly and looked hopefully at Mari, who nodded contently. Tomas walked in at that moment, and looked inquiringly at them, noticing Tanith’s broad grin and Mari holding the baby. Instantly his eyebrows furrowed, and suspiciously he asked, “Something happened, didn’t it…”

Mari smiled at him and inquired lightly, “How would you feel about having a boy, Tomas?”

Tanith laughed at his incredulous expression, and out of happiness, for now she wouldn’t be alone…

Londinium starport

“Okay, is this clear, mister? We’re attached to the interrogator over there, and he’s attached to Inquisitor Nachtmann Grund of the holy Ordo Xenos. Therefore, by extension, by hindering us, you are hindering the Emperor’s own frakking Inquisition!” Johan Vehrec hissed into the face of the pale, quivering harbormaster. He sat back, satisfied, as the pathetic bureaucrat pulled out a requisition form with trembling hands, and stamped his ident upon it; the pilot snapped it out of the harbormaster’s hand, and with a contemptuous sneer departed the office.

Below, Interrogator Meirax turned around to stare at Vehrec, expecting results. He nodded approvingly as the pilot held up the requisition form; with that they could collect anything they desired from the starport without having to resort to Meirax’s inquisitorial rosette which their master Grund had bestowed upon him for the duration of the mission. He inquired archly, “I presume you bothered to note a few suitable flyers for our mission? Something along the lines of a gun-cutter would do nicely…”

Vehrec shook his head—“Nothing as powerful as that, sir. But I’ve located what appears to be a Thunderhawk, no less…”

Meirax’s eyebrow arched (in emulation of Grund, although he did it with quite less style), and made a ‘well take us to it already!’ gesture with a wave of his hand.

The hangar door scrolled upward slowly, and as Vehrec took his augmented hands off the opening chains he grinned at the retinue’s expressions of awe and Meirax’s triumphant look. He hastily added, “It’s still technically under the Adeptus Astartes Praetorians’ fiat, but for some reason or other they didn’t collect it after the conquest of this world was finished. Harbormaster wouldn’t say anything about it, only that if we took it we could keep it. It looks in okay condition, just going to need some repairs to placate the machine spirit. Fortunately Thunderhawks will run just about forever, we just need to locate the necessary parts…”

Meirax nodded approvingly. He turned to Snowman and Buchar, and issued orders: “Dandalo, you can scout on your own. Collect a commbead before you leave, the city’s got a decent comm net for an agriworld capital. Buchar, get your men in order and have them in uniform in one hour. I’m going to the Adeptus Arbites regional headquarters and requesting their assistance in this investigation. Savaanuk, attend me.”

The savant slowly trundled up, and Meirax looked over his shoulder, annoyed. He inquired, “Where’s Gale? Warpdamnit, I need that man!”

“Here. Orders?” sounded from behind the interrogator, and he flinched. Turning around, he glowered at the cleric’s chest; standing, Father Gale towered above all of them, his height showing his Catachan origins. Meirax gruffly looked upward to make eye contact and ordered, “Go yourself, single investigation or with Snowman. You don’t need to go as a priest. Objective is to locate any evidence leading towards Tomas Kalden. Understood?”

“Positive,” the cleric intoned flatly. He turned around and strode off across the starport plastrete pavement. Meirax glowered after him briefly, and then turned to the other retainers and flung his hands at them, shouting, “What are you all standing around for? Move!”
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Post by Lindar »

uhm isn't he like there atm?

*clueless question marks appear overhead* or am i confused?
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Post by Elheru Aran »

Lindar wrote:uhm isn't he like there atm?

*clueless question marks appear overhead* or am i confused?
Nope, he just arrived. The other people who speculated about the unknown gentleman thus far are incorrect. Sort of. :P
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Post by Vehrec »

*eyes the Thunderhawk* You know, I somehow get the feeling that the kid might have been better off going into the Scholas, even if the Eldar wytch doesn't know it yet. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got some supplications to make to this holy warmachine. And I'm gonna try and figure out why the Preatorians left him behind. The Astartes must have had a reason . . .
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Post by Hawkwings »

Dude, the Eldar are involved in the story. Everything has happens has a cause. The Eldar did it.
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Post by LadyTevar »

The Thunderhawk was left behind, because some member of the Imperial Guard was paid to leave it. Never ascribe to the Elder what simple human bribery can answer.

As for the unknown man helping Tanith... I am withholding judgement. There's not enough information so far, although I am thinking he may be a psycher himself, or someone who recognized what Tanith was.

I'm assuming the wildest guess so far is that he's an Eldar himself?
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Post by Elheru Aran »

Considering he has a certain resemblance to this fellow?

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Nah... definitely not eldar :wink:
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Post by Ford Prefect »

Because I've been through the desert with a man with no name? Well, we wasn't gruff enough to be Clint, I'm afraid.
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Post by Elheru Aran »

Ford Prefect wrote:Because I've been through the desert with a man with no name? Well, we wasn't gruff enough to be Clint, I'm afraid.
I know. He's merely based upon the appearance of Clint from those movies, he's rather different otherwise... :wink:
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Post by Elheru Aran »

Moar update!

Comments, suggestions, speculation appreciated as always...

++++++++++++++++++++
A year later

Swift feet pattered like lightning through the forest. Braids streaming behind her, a feral grin on her face, Tanith leaped from tree trunk to trunk, until she reached her destination—an enormous boulder, faintly showing the traces of having been shaped untold millennia ago. Nimble fingers finding holds that would’ve been almost sheer to anybody else, toes and strong legs lifting herself up, she was atop it in an instant.

She sighed happily, panting lightly, and then reached over her shoulder, seizing a leather strap as happy infant laughter rang forth. She lifted her little brother out of the rough carrying pack she had made for him; the boy, tousled dark hair fluttering lightly in the warm breeze, laughed merrily and clapped his small hands as he saw his sister’s face. Leaning in, she rubbed her nose against his tiny button of a nose, and exclaimed, “Aren’t you glad I took you out with me today, little Petr? Look about us, brother, and see everything!”

‘Twas true, the vista about them was most spectacular; far off to the east, their farm showed itself a pasture in the midst of the forests covering the mountain, the house and barn standing in the middle of the plowed fields. Trees stood high, and they parted to allow a river flowing down from a spring in the side of the mountain; the water fell far down a steep cliff opposite the farm, misting away into the air. In the distance, the mountain fell away, and dimly she could glimpse Mart and Tev’s farm.

Petr frowned and muttered, catching her attention. She looked, and he pointed, gurgling. The waterfall in the distance seemed to be… becoming irregular? For a moment even, it slowly stopped flowing entirely. As the mist drifted away she thought she saw a massive man-shaped form in green and blue, with a strange head, standing upon a great shelf of rock that the waterfall had hid; but then the water flowed again, and she lost sight of him.

Frowning, she whispered to Petr, “I’m going to take you down and put you in a nice cool spot, okay…? And there you can nap a little, your sister Tanny is going to take a closer look if she can…”

She received a happy gurgle in return, and smiling at him, she put him back into the basket and carefully climbed down the rock a ways. A large crevasse welled up underneath her, and she entered that slowly; a hollow between the rocks came to sight, dry but cool and with a tang of dampness in the air. Soft moss lined the hollow, and sunlight jabbed through the crevasse, illuminating it nicely. Putting Petr down gently, humming as she went, he yawned and closed his eyes.

Smiling as she left him there—she’d found out she could get him to sleep just by humming that way and stroking his stomach, she wasn’t sure how but she appreciated it and so definitely did Tomas and Mari, especially when he woke up in the middle of the night. Atop the boulder again, she reached into a rear pocket and pulled out a rough mechanical long-viewer binox, and pressed them to her eyes.

Nothing but a waterfall, and the cliff behind. She frowned fiercely and looked again.

This time… people moving around? She couldn’t tell for sure but there was definitely movement of some sort behind the waterfall. She knew there was a network of caves running through the mountain; it was soft stone, and with a spring pressed upward as high as it was by some odd internal pressure, there were plenty of water-worn spaces inside. Perhaps it was time for her to investigate deeper?

Her ears pricked as she heard the whisper of something brushing stone; and the binox rattled upon the boulder as she dashed to the crevasse, leaping down lightly and darting into the hollow.

Petr giggled as the goat licked his face; Tanith sighed and thumped its back with her hand, sending it running startled out of the crevasse. Pulling a rag out of the bag (both her and Mari had happily contributed one or two dresses over the past year for his diapers and blankets), she scrubbed his face clean and sniffed. She sighed, “I suppose it was too much to hope we’d be home before I had to do that…”

Pulling out a blanket, she laid him upon it and underwent the necessary task with efficiency born of long practice, although even that couldn’t quite remove the slightly disgusted wrinkle of her nose. That done, she pinned the new triangle of cloth in place and fussed with him for a little bit, then slung him back into the pack and hefted it onto her back.

Remembering the binox, she turned to climb back up the crevasse—and stared as they lay, neatly placed back into their case, at the foot of the crack in the rock. Her skin crawled as her perceptions flickered, and suspiciously she looked about herself, eyes searching for anything amiss. Shivering lightly as she stroked her arm, smoothing down goosebumps, she grabbed the binox case and ran.

In a few hours she was placing him back into his simple crib at the farm; stepping into the kitchen, she opened the cool-box Tomas had finally bought some time ago and pulled out a cold bottle of water. She poked around and grabbed some leftover gumes-and-greens soup, and pouring it into a small pan, she placed it atop the stove and waited for it to heat. Mari came in with Petr snoozing gently upon her shoulder, and cast a significant look at Tanith. She murmured quietly as not to wake the baby, “You were supposed to be back two hours ago. You could’ve had lunch with us then…”

Tanith gave her a helpless look and responded, “But I just love being out with Petr so much…”

Mari smiled understandingly and nodded, but added, “That doesn’t mean you can stay out till all hours, dear. Petr needs his feeding and all that. I know he loves being out with you, Tani, but you must understand he can’t be out too long…”

“I take care of him, Mom!” she responded irritably. Mari nodded placidly and answered, “I know you do, dear. I just don’t want you taking him out so far. He’s not old enough for going far afield like you do just yet…”

She helpfully pointed out that her mother and father had done that exact thing with her; Mari just as helpfully pointed out that the circumstances were quite different; and so on…

Tomas came in as the sky darkened, took Petr from Tanith and dandled the boy upon his knee, then sat back and inquired, “What’s to eat, dear?”

Mari answered casually, “That would be soylens curds and bread, Tomas. Since someone hasn’t been hunting recently, no meat I fear…”

A knock sounded upon the front door, and they all jumped. Tomas hastily handed Petr to Tanith, and strode to the door, peering through the crack between two boards. He opened the door cautiously and inquired suspiciously, “What’s your business here?”

A tantalizingly familiar voice drifted through the air to them—“I was passing by and as it’s getting late, I was thinking to sleep under a tree, but then I saw your place and I thought maybe I could bed down in the barn?”

Tomas opened the door, and as Tanith looked up from Petr balanced upon her hip her eyes widened in shock. It was him! Flushing deeply and turning upon her toe, she strode with dignity into the kitchen and then hissed to Mari, “It’s him! The man from Yorkis who helped us find Petr! Can we get rid of him?”

Her father stepped in, grinning and hefting a lem-buck quarter, and said, “He was kind enough to offer this in return for a bed in the barn… I think he’s entitled to enjoy some of this with us, Mari.”

She nodded, and giving Tanith a mildly reproving look, spoke to him (he’d approached and stood behind Tomas), “It would be our pleasure to have you for the evening, mister. Please, make yourself at ease. Our house is yours.”

After the entirely more pleasant dinner which Tanith sulked through, avoiding looking at him, she was scrubbing dishes with vigour in the kitchen when he stepped through to the rear door, saddle bags in hand. He looked at her and mildly commented, “Still upset over everything back in town?”

In her hands a metal spoon suddenly twisted, one would think apparently from the glower she directed at it. Remaining mute, she untwisted it, pressed the bowl back into shape and tossed it into the rinse water. He grinned and stepped out, and as she looked through the window she saw Tomas come to meet him and show him the loft. Burying her face in soapy hands, she mumbled to herself, “Hath the Emperor no pity? Do I have to stand him yet longer?”

The next day, she went out early in the morning, clad in her leather hunting garb, expression intent. Though she didn’t notice, behind her trailed the occasional blue psychic spark as she darted between the trees. Skidding to a stop underneath a massive lirchbark, she leaped up its branches till she reached the rough platform she’d woven when a child, and laid back upon it, looking at the leaves overhead, her thoughts racing.

A cloud passed over the sun, and she idly held up her hand, staring at it. Cursorily she contemplated the lightness of her bones, and drew the comparison between hers and her parents’. Wrapping her arms around herself, she began pondering just how different she was from her parents, from… humans?

Angrily, she pulled out her knife and leaped to another branch. Blade flashing dimly in the sun, she began spinning, twisting and leaping, feet darting faster than the eye could follow, knife tracing intricate knots through the air as her hands flew. Her hair swung through the air, and with a hiss she began channeling her psychic powers, the knife tracing a blue streak through the air. Her eyes sparked and began glowing electric blue, and the crackle and smell of ozone slowly filtered to her nose.

Uncaring, she leaped to another limb, and another, sparks filling the air, the occasional crackle of static electricity startling birds from their perches. Angrily, she looked sharply about for something, anything, and glimpsed a boulder by the stream below. She glared at it, and unbidden, she saw through it. She saw the fine lines of forces unknown to her binding it together, its planes and surfaces, its place in the natural world.

With a sweep of her blade, a crack loud as an autocannon shot resounded, and dust flew out from the rock; slowly, its upper half ground downward, sliding off the bottom to splash into the water. The newly cut surface of the rock glittered in the sun like polished glass. Panting, she realized she was sweating, feeling cold even though the sun shone bright above.

Climbing down to the stream below, she disrobed and tucked her clothes and belt with knife under a bush, then dove gracefully into the water. She slid in with nary a splash and came up glistening, hair slicked smoothly back. Swimming a small distance up the stream, she reached out and felt the newly cut upper half of the boulder in the water; and she shuddered as she realized that she had done this, herself, what it could do…

“Yeah,” a voice suddenly sounded from behind the stone, “you could probably use some proper trainin’ there. And don’t worry, I only noticed your clothes under the bush, I haven’t seen you.”

Shocked, she hissed angrily and spat out, “You! What is the meaning of this? Did you follow me here, you pervert?”

She could imagine him lifting his eyebrow at the last word, but he didn’t say anything about that, merely responding lightly, “Well, I’ll stay behind here. Or you can just stay in the water till we’re done talking, whichever you prefer…”

Glowering at the source of the voice, she shifted into the cool shadow of the rock and gripped it with a hand, the other trying to cover herself; angrily she responded, “I’d prefer you died. Failing that, go away!”

He chuckled lightly, which only served to make her madder despite the cold stream water. But the more serious tones which came afterward made her take notice, “You don’t need to go flaunting your powers like that. You need to learn how to use them, and hide them…”

She frowned, sharp eyebrows furrowing in curiosity. Contemptuously though, she growled, “And who might you be that you may pronounce thusly upon what I can and cannot do?”

“You don’t need to know my name. Just know that I know what your powers are, and I know what you are. Know also I’m not going to give you away to the Black Ships or the holy ordos, upon condition that you learn how to control your powers.”

Now intrigued despite her dislike of him, she called out, “Are you wearing your hat?”

“Hmm? Yeah?”

“Come out from behind that rock and let me see you holding it over your face…”

She heard him chuckle, but his clothes rustled and footsteps sounded against the soft earth; he emerged, hat held before his eyes. Nodding approvingly (though her expression still radiated fury), she stroked vigorously through the water, grabbing her clothes and leaping behind a tree hurriedly. Emerging moments afterward with her slowly dampening leathers upon her body, she crossed her arms upon her chest and directed a penetrating glare at him.

Her foot lifted and stepped soundlessly; with no more noise than a ghost, she stepped forward and raised her hands, ready to shove him into the water. And his hand lifted, and poked her right between her eyes.

Startled, she stumbled back, hissing angrily; he lowered his hat, that infuriating grin upon his face. Replacing the hat upon his head, the grin slipping away, he looked up at her and said gently, “Tanith. I’m a former agent of the Ordo Xenos. I came here on my own, to investigate rumours I’d heard while I was attached to the Inquisitors of Lord Chemmis’ retinue. What I’ve seen though, and gathered, is enough to convince me you don’t need to be given away to the ordos or the Black Ships. I will need to talk to your parents first though. I’m sorry about the hard time you have accepting me, but I assure you nothing was my fault. Except maybe putting myself in your way so you’d walk into me…”

He held out his hand in the archaic Terran custom; she looked at it, and then upward at him. Sighing, she held out her slim hand and they exchanged grasps; she responded slowly and with some difficulty, “For telling me that. Thank you. And if you want to help me learn how I can control what I do better, you can. But don’t push it…”

Nodding, he sat back on one of the boulders; she leaped nimbly up to sit cross-legged upon a low-hanging branch, her eyes full of uncertainty and distrust. He began speaking, half-remembering lessons taught ages ago, “The first step of the Psyker is to know oneself…”
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HSRTG
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Post by HSRTG »

“Hath the Emperor no pity? Do I have to stand him yet longer?”
That's an interesting question. Would the Emperor have pity on a xeno?
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Elheru Aran
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Post by Elheru Aran »

HSRTG wrote:
“Hath the Emperor no pity? Do I have to stand him yet longer?”
That's an interesting question. Would the Emperor have pity on a xeno?
Remember, she's been brought up human; hence, she has no reason to believe He wouldn't... so far :wink:
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Vehrec
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Post by Vehrec »

I simply cannot believe that the forces of the inquisition have been on this planet for a standard year and haven't found the foul Xenos or the man who dares to harbor it. Unless of course there were distractions. Like a chaos cult, a genestealer infestation, or a Necron Tomb.
I utterly refuse to believe that a farseer has me flying around in circles. Nope. That is simply not somthing I am going to believe.

By the by, what does she rate a psyker right now? Gamma or somthing lower? I know those conventional terms have no place when talking about the Xenos, but I do want a standard of comparison.
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LadyTevar
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Post by LadyTevar »

She split a damn rock, hon. Is that a minor power? :roll:

Interesting about him being a 'former Ordo'... why would he have left?
Unless the Emperor *does* have pity upon this adopted Child of Man....
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Ford Prefect
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Post by Ford Prefect »

LadyTevar wrote:She split a damn rock, hon. Is that a minor power? :roll:
Yes, it is rather. She cut open a rock, not the fabric of space and time, nor did she explode a tank, nor has she communicated across the vastness of space. Those are the acts of Gamma and lower grade psykers. As far as Tanith goes, she's kinda anemic. :D

I mean, sure, she hasn't had any training and she's quite young, but it's not like that stopped the Apex Twins from murdering the crew of a Black Ship and treating it like it was nothing more than a game.
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Here's to a certain mostly harmless nutcase.
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