Having just read through the whole thing in the last few days again (I remember reading part of it before), I have to say: I am now officially hooked.
Great story. Keep up the great work.
In Memoria (40K)
Moderator: LadyTevar
What a blood bath. Gix's goons seemed to do better then usual against the inquisition 
, and Gix lost one of his guys too. It should all be worth it once the Psy King and Gamesman have a wtf moment when Gix ices them.
, and Gix lost one of his guys too. It should all be worth it once the Psy King and Gamesman have a wtf moment when Gix ices them.
Last edited by Raj Ahten on 2007-03-05 02:31pm, edited 2 times in total.
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Vehrec
- Jedi Council Member
- Posts: 2204
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- Location: The Ohio State University
- Contact:
How is Jolan gonna replace one of his core men this deep undercover? His team just took a major hit, and they can't let anyone in at the moment. That's just great. I hope that he winds up working with Extos even if she is a bit of a bitch for offing one of his guys. Probably a last minute alliance to take down the Psy King and sweep the segmentum clean of this cult. Poor girl just doesn't seem to realize how much 'Dax' outclasses her in just about every department. I hope when she realizes what's going on she's suitably impressed.
Commander of the MFS Darwinian Selection Method (sexual)-
Imperial Overlord
- Emperor's Hand
- Posts: 11978
- Joined: 2004-08-19 04:30am
- Location: The Tower at Charm
The Palace Guard escorted Dana Yardilon down the halls and into the heart of the palace. Their navy blue uniforms with red piping were more decorative than functional, but the men and women who wore them knew their business. Minor functionaries inclined their heads respectfully and quickly got out of the path of the troop. As they preceded deeper into the palace, the encountered fewer and fewer people in the halls. Finally they reached a pair of gold embossed ceramite doors. Eagles heads and skulls of beaten gold gazed down upon them.
One of the Guardsmen typed in a code on a keypad and the doors slid open. The interior lacked the decaying opulence of the rest of the palace, instead displaying a stark simplicity. They went down the corridor, under the glare of harsh white lights and entered a domed chamber with several exits. The ceiling displayed primarchs and saints in mid battle, captured in stained glass. The walls, except were interrupted by several terminals, were covered by mosaics of somber astropaths going about their duties in hooded robes. Several couches were provided so persons of status could rest comfortably while waiting.
Sabar-Governor Hesh was in consultation with a hooded astropath as Yardilon entered. The astropath bowed and withdrew as Hesh turned towards the inquisitor. "Thank you for coming. I hear you had some success last night?"
"We did not," said Yardilon. "Dask slipped through our fingers, along with almost all the important members of his retinue. We think we might have killed one of his chief lieutenants, but we can't be sure. At any rate, the heretic is loose and only somewhat diminished. He is still a danger."
"Unfortunate," said the Sabar-Governor. "I, on the other hand, do have good news. The Imperial Guard is deploying the requested troops to my world. They should touch planetside within a month, as long as the Warp does not become to unfavorable."
"Who are they sending?"
"General Kerlos Levian and five regiment of Jivannians." The Sabar-Governor smiled broadly and with good reason. Jivanne was a world that was frequently difficult to reach because of warp turbulence, but it was a formidably industrialized system that tithed well equipped and well trained soldiers to the Imperial Guard. Ambitious members of the ruling Levian dynasty took positions within various branches of Imperial service and rose as high as ambition, backing, and considerable personal talent could take them. If the dynasty produced incompetent or weak members, which is surely must, they were content to live on Jivanne and not inflict their flaws on the rest of the Imperium.
"Good news," said Yardilon. "The Jivannians are good troops with solid leadership and no local factional connections to get in the way. Well handled, their might will allow us to end this semi-insurrection and hunt down the heretic provocateurs."
"That is the way I see it as well," said Hesh. "Good news for a change, eh?"
----------------------------------------------------------
Dominar Trace walked past the zombified couple on the sofa and strode out on the apartment's balcony. The twentieth floor did have a really nice view of the palace and the Imperial Courthouse, which would be useful for planning future attacks. Things were quiet at the moment, but that would change sure enough. You could cut the tension in the air with a knife.
Until that time, he would enjoy the amenities that came with the senior bureaucrat's household. It was so much easier to turn the inhabitants of an existing domicile into mindless puppets and move in than secure a safe house. Harder to track too. He wondered if someone important on their side had bought it during the big firefight of the previous nights. He hoped not. It wasn't that he didn't want his rivals dead, but that the enemy was so capable and tenacious that he could use all the help he could get. Ideally, they would die horribly in the final moments of victory. The albino smiled. He liked that a lot.
The back of Thrace's skull exploded in a spray of brains and bone fragments liberally mixed with blood. His body fell back, a widening pool of blood spreading over the balcony. On a distant roof top, Danell Keys began dissembling his kit for his exit.
The Queen of Nightmares had taken good precautions about making her signals hard to track, but she made her broadcasts all at once and the com unit sent a reception code back. That had allowed Keys to begin narrowing down locations, although their frequent movements played havoc with his hunting efforts. Like so much else in the business of assassination, patience was key. He had gotten a reasonably close read. Not enough considering how densely populated the city was, but more than enough because signal tracking wasn't his only auspex. The psi-tracker had given him a single good strong reading. He had set up and waited and then had the results confirmed when Thrace walked into his sights. And that had been it.
Jolan had secured multiple bolt holes and safe houses, in the event that their main lair was compromised. A little searching revealed the obscure graffiti symbol that told him where to go. The assassin made his way through mostly empty streets and passed shattered storefronts on his way to the safe house. Night was coming and that was now a thing to be feared.
He entered a run down building and up creaking stairs to a battered door. The apartment inside would have been dingier if it hadn't been cleaned. "Come in," said Gix. The inquisitor had died his hair brown, a couple of shades lighter than his original hair colour, in order to better disguise himself. His slumped body language also had little in common with that of Sevran Dask.
"Thrace is dead," said Keys. "One more left to go."
"Perhaps," said Gix. "The status quo doesn't favor . . . . us. Reinforcements may have been dispatched. They might end the operation."
"Or move it into its final stages," said Gard Vikal as he emerged from the bathroom. "Assuming the whole insurrection business is not their true goal."
Jolan nodded. "Let's hope the Queen fails and lives. I need her alive to vouch for my wonderfulness and initiation, after all."
One of the Guardsmen typed in a code on a keypad and the doors slid open. The interior lacked the decaying opulence of the rest of the palace, instead displaying a stark simplicity. They went down the corridor, under the glare of harsh white lights and entered a domed chamber with several exits. The ceiling displayed primarchs and saints in mid battle, captured in stained glass. The walls, except were interrupted by several terminals, were covered by mosaics of somber astropaths going about their duties in hooded robes. Several couches were provided so persons of status could rest comfortably while waiting.
Sabar-Governor Hesh was in consultation with a hooded astropath as Yardilon entered. The astropath bowed and withdrew as Hesh turned towards the inquisitor. "Thank you for coming. I hear you had some success last night?"
"We did not," said Yardilon. "Dask slipped through our fingers, along with almost all the important members of his retinue. We think we might have killed one of his chief lieutenants, but we can't be sure. At any rate, the heretic is loose and only somewhat diminished. He is still a danger."
"Unfortunate," said the Sabar-Governor. "I, on the other hand, do have good news. The Imperial Guard is deploying the requested troops to my world. They should touch planetside within a month, as long as the Warp does not become to unfavorable."
"Who are they sending?"
"General Kerlos Levian and five regiment of Jivannians." The Sabar-Governor smiled broadly and with good reason. Jivanne was a world that was frequently difficult to reach because of warp turbulence, but it was a formidably industrialized system that tithed well equipped and well trained soldiers to the Imperial Guard. Ambitious members of the ruling Levian dynasty took positions within various branches of Imperial service and rose as high as ambition, backing, and considerable personal talent could take them. If the dynasty produced incompetent or weak members, which is surely must, they were content to live on Jivanne and not inflict their flaws on the rest of the Imperium.
"Good news," said Yardilon. "The Jivannians are good troops with solid leadership and no local factional connections to get in the way. Well handled, their might will allow us to end this semi-insurrection and hunt down the heretic provocateurs."
"That is the way I see it as well," said Hesh. "Good news for a change, eh?"
----------------------------------------------------------
Dominar Trace walked past the zombified couple on the sofa and strode out on the apartment's balcony. The twentieth floor did have a really nice view of the palace and the Imperial Courthouse, which would be useful for planning future attacks. Things were quiet at the moment, but that would change sure enough. You could cut the tension in the air with a knife.
Until that time, he would enjoy the amenities that came with the senior bureaucrat's household. It was so much easier to turn the inhabitants of an existing domicile into mindless puppets and move in than secure a safe house. Harder to track too. He wondered if someone important on their side had bought it during the big firefight of the previous nights. He hoped not. It wasn't that he didn't want his rivals dead, but that the enemy was so capable and tenacious that he could use all the help he could get. Ideally, they would die horribly in the final moments of victory. The albino smiled. He liked that a lot.
The back of Thrace's skull exploded in a spray of brains and bone fragments liberally mixed with blood. His body fell back, a widening pool of blood spreading over the balcony. On a distant roof top, Danell Keys began dissembling his kit for his exit.
The Queen of Nightmares had taken good precautions about making her signals hard to track, but she made her broadcasts all at once and the com unit sent a reception code back. That had allowed Keys to begin narrowing down locations, although their frequent movements played havoc with his hunting efforts. Like so much else in the business of assassination, patience was key. He had gotten a reasonably close read. Not enough considering how densely populated the city was, but more than enough because signal tracking wasn't his only auspex. The psi-tracker had given him a single good strong reading. He had set up and waited and then had the results confirmed when Thrace walked into his sights. And that had been it.
Jolan had secured multiple bolt holes and safe houses, in the event that their main lair was compromised. A little searching revealed the obscure graffiti symbol that told him where to go. The assassin made his way through mostly empty streets and passed shattered storefronts on his way to the safe house. Night was coming and that was now a thing to be feared.
He entered a run down building and up creaking stairs to a battered door. The apartment inside would have been dingier if it hadn't been cleaned. "Come in," said Gix. The inquisitor had died his hair brown, a couple of shades lighter than his original hair colour, in order to better disguise himself. His slumped body language also had little in common with that of Sevran Dask.
"Thrace is dead," said Keys. "One more left to go."
"Perhaps," said Gix. "The status quo doesn't favor . . . . us. Reinforcements may have been dispatched. They might end the operation."
"Or move it into its final stages," said Gard Vikal as he emerged from the bathroom. "Assuming the whole insurrection business is not their true goal."
Jolan nodded. "Let's hope the Queen fails and lives. I need her alive to vouch for my wonderfulness and initiation, after all."
The Excellent Prismatic Spray. For when you absolutely, positively must kill a motherfucker. Accept no substitutions. Contact a magician of the later Aeons for details. Some conditions may apply.
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Imperial Overlord
- Emperor's Hand
- Posts: 11978
- Joined: 2004-08-19 04:30am
- Location: The Tower at Charm
The Master of Protocol waved Narina Estrevan-Serventes into the Audience Hall. This part of the palace had been meticulously maintained and was untouched by the decay that had begun to set in in some of the less public sections. The room itself had a vaulted roof supported by gilded adamantine struts fifty meters above the floor. Holo projectors created the images of stained glass saints and heroes along the halls two hundred meter length. Golden dragonheads gripped light globes in their jaws along the halls length. One hundred soldiers of the Palace Guard stood in niches along an elevated walkway that ran the length of the hall, armed with baroque, lance like lasguns.
Narina wove her way through the ranks of gorgeously dressed courtiers and petitioners, heading for the front. The current fashion for women was pale face paint and skin dyes, with gold accents and beauty spots. Flowing gowns of silk with feathers and pearls were the norm for the women and stiff, dark pseudomilitary tunics and breaches, accented with gold, platinum, and gems were common for the men.
She approached the chamberlain and bowed. The chamberlain wore a high collared robe of sky-blue silk set with golden suns. She accepted a gold and ivory cylinder from him and waited. Several others approached and presented their petitions. They were received and they returned to the ranks of waiting courtiers. One of them was a plainly dressed man, a commoner of little status and wealth. The Sabar-Governor heard his petition as well.
Then came Narina Estrevan-Serventes's turn. She approached the golden dais where the Sabar-Governor was enthroned. A pair of gold framed view screens flanked him, supported by suspensors and connected to cogitators so that the Sabar-Governor would have any data he needed. Two somber robed savants flanked their master, ready to put their expertise to use in his service.
Narina reached the foot of the steps and knelt. The Queen of Nightmares smiled in her lair three kilometers away. Her puppet was in position. Now it was time to strike. She poured power into the seed she buried in Narina. Psi-detectors spiked, but it was too late.
The vortex of chaos consumed the empty shell that had once been a Sycoraxian noble women and swelled out into the chamber, a dark ravenous vortex that consumed everything. There were screams of terror and dismay and a panicked stampede away as the vortex consumed the front half of the audience hall.
And then it died, as quickly as it had spawned. Nothing remained where it had once been, just gaping holes in the walls and floor left from where the vortex had consumed all matter that it touched and sucked it into the Warp. Not even bodies were left to bury.
------------------------------------------------------------
Gix slumped back against the bed. "It's crazy out there," said Danell as he came in through the door. "Whatever happened, its brought the Arbites out in full force. Autocannons instead of water cannons on their transports and shooting anything that looks like resistance. Anything on the news?"
"None," said Gard. "Which means its bad. They're just trying to come up with how to package it to sound like they are still in control."
Jolan sat up. "There was a powerful disturbance in the Warp," said Gix. "Not sure of its nature, but the area around the palace is still disrupted by the aftereffects. Hesh has probably been assassinated."
"Such an move would be premature," said Keys. "The Sabar-Governor is immensely popular with the middle and working classes. Even the aristocracy thinks favorably of him. His initiatives have given them opportunities to make a lot of money, even as they have lost power. This will destroy almost all popular support for the insurrection. They needed to wait until the battle lines hardened before doing this."
"Unless killing him was the whole point," said Gix.
"And then install someone favorable to them as his replacement," said Gard. "Play the long game. Yes, quite reasonable and even fairly straightforward, by Tzeentchian standards."
Jolan's code plaque flashed. The inquisitor got up and inserted into his cogitator. Phosphorescent letters crawled across the screen. "What is it?" Gard asked.
"Recall," said Gix. "We're leaving. I guess murdering Hesh was enough," he said with disgust.
"Inquisitor,-" Gard began.
"Don't worry," said Gix. "I knew it might come to this when I chose this road." He sighed. "We're close enough I can taste victory. I just hope its enough to wash all the bile out of my throat. Throne, I am tired of this. I just want to get clean. But we have to see it through. This will happen over and over and over again if we don't. An inquisitor does his duty, no matter what the cost."
Narina wove her way through the ranks of gorgeously dressed courtiers and petitioners, heading for the front. The current fashion for women was pale face paint and skin dyes, with gold accents and beauty spots. Flowing gowns of silk with feathers and pearls were the norm for the women and stiff, dark pseudomilitary tunics and breaches, accented with gold, platinum, and gems were common for the men.
She approached the chamberlain and bowed. The chamberlain wore a high collared robe of sky-blue silk set with golden suns. She accepted a gold and ivory cylinder from him and waited. Several others approached and presented their petitions. They were received and they returned to the ranks of waiting courtiers. One of them was a plainly dressed man, a commoner of little status and wealth. The Sabar-Governor heard his petition as well.
Then came Narina Estrevan-Serventes's turn. She approached the golden dais where the Sabar-Governor was enthroned. A pair of gold framed view screens flanked him, supported by suspensors and connected to cogitators so that the Sabar-Governor would have any data he needed. Two somber robed savants flanked their master, ready to put their expertise to use in his service.
Narina reached the foot of the steps and knelt. The Queen of Nightmares smiled in her lair three kilometers away. Her puppet was in position. Now it was time to strike. She poured power into the seed she buried in Narina. Psi-detectors spiked, but it was too late.
The vortex of chaos consumed the empty shell that had once been a Sycoraxian noble women and swelled out into the chamber, a dark ravenous vortex that consumed everything. There were screams of terror and dismay and a panicked stampede away as the vortex consumed the front half of the audience hall.
And then it died, as quickly as it had spawned. Nothing remained where it had once been, just gaping holes in the walls and floor left from where the vortex had consumed all matter that it touched and sucked it into the Warp. Not even bodies were left to bury.
------------------------------------------------------------
Gix slumped back against the bed. "It's crazy out there," said Danell as he came in through the door. "Whatever happened, its brought the Arbites out in full force. Autocannons instead of water cannons on their transports and shooting anything that looks like resistance. Anything on the news?"
"None," said Gard. "Which means its bad. They're just trying to come up with how to package it to sound like they are still in control."
Jolan sat up. "There was a powerful disturbance in the Warp," said Gix. "Not sure of its nature, but the area around the palace is still disrupted by the aftereffects. Hesh has probably been assassinated."
"Such an move would be premature," said Keys. "The Sabar-Governor is immensely popular with the middle and working classes. Even the aristocracy thinks favorably of him. His initiatives have given them opportunities to make a lot of money, even as they have lost power. This will destroy almost all popular support for the insurrection. They needed to wait until the battle lines hardened before doing this."
"Unless killing him was the whole point," said Gix.
"And then install someone favorable to them as his replacement," said Gard. "Play the long game. Yes, quite reasonable and even fairly straightforward, by Tzeentchian standards."
Jolan's code plaque flashed. The inquisitor got up and inserted into his cogitator. Phosphorescent letters crawled across the screen. "What is it?" Gard asked.
"Recall," said Gix. "We're leaving. I guess murdering Hesh was enough," he said with disgust.
"Inquisitor,-" Gard began.
"Don't worry," said Gix. "I knew it might come to this when I chose this road." He sighed. "We're close enough I can taste victory. I just hope its enough to wash all the bile out of my throat. Throne, I am tired of this. I just want to get clean. But we have to see it through. This will happen over and over and over again if we don't. An inquisitor does his duty, no matter what the cost."
Last edited by Imperial Overlord on 2007-03-05 01:07am, edited 1 time in total.
The Excellent Prismatic Spray. For when you absolutely, positively must kill a motherfucker. Accept no substitutions. Contact a magician of the later Aeons for details. Some conditions may apply.
Damn. And so ends Sabar-Governor Hesh. May the Emperor receive you with open arms at the Throne, governor.
And, disappointing as it is, I've been somewhat anticipating Hesh's demise, if only because it seems like one of the prevailing themes of the universe is that there can be no victory for the Imperium save those of the Pyhrric variety. I've also been expecting Mikal's death for quite a while now, because he is the only one of Jolan's loyal servants who was conspicuously absent from the inquisitor's retinue in the 41k RPG over at Librium Arcana...
But, after reading this, I just want the Chaos gods to be utterly and completely annihilated, preferably after being torn to pieces in such a manner as to make what happened to Khaine looks painless by comparison. Of course, that's a little beyond the scope of what Jolan is planning at the moment, but it's nice to dream anyway.
And, disappointing as it is, I've been somewhat anticipating Hesh's demise, if only because it seems like one of the prevailing themes of the universe is that there can be no victory for the Imperium save those of the Pyhrric variety. I've also been expecting Mikal's death for quite a while now, because he is the only one of Jolan's loyal servants who was conspicuously absent from the inquisitor's retinue in the 41k RPG over at Librium Arcana...
But, after reading this, I just want the Chaos gods to be utterly and completely annihilated, preferably after being torn to pieces in such a manner as to make what happened to Khaine looks painless by comparison. Of course, that's a little beyond the scope of what Jolan is planning at the moment, but it's nice to dream anyway.
"There is a high statistical probability of death by gunshot. A punch to the face is also likely." - Legion
"The machine is strong. We must purge the weak, hated flesh and replace it with the blessed purity of metal. Only through permanence can we truly triumph, only though the Machine can we find victory. Punish the flesh. Iron in mind and body. Hail the machine!" - Paullian Blantar, Iron Father of the Kaargul Clan, Iron Hands Chapter
"The machine is strong. We must purge the weak, hated flesh and replace it with the blessed purity of metal. Only through permanence can we truly triumph, only though the Machine can we find victory. Punish the flesh. Iron in mind and body. Hail the machine!" - Paullian Blantar, Iron Father of the Kaargul Clan, Iron Hands Chapter
A pity... the SaberGovernor was doing such a damn good job.
Oh...
Oh...
Typo patrolhigh collared robe of sky-blue silk set with golden sons.
Me: Nope, that's why I have you around to tell me.
Nitram: You -are- beautiful. Anyone tries to tell you otherwise kill them.
"A life is like a garden. Perfect moments can be had, but not preserved, except in memory. LLAP" -- Leonard Nimoy, last Tweet
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Imperial Overlord
- Emperor's Hand
- Posts: 11978
- Joined: 2004-08-19 04:30am
- Location: The Tower at Charm
A storm hammered Tarindolas, howling through the streets and driving rain like knives on the Arbites on patrol. The city was quiet, the fires put out, and all dissent brutally repressed. Tarindolas and all of Sycorax Minor were in mourning. Those with guilty consciences now loudly proclaimed their loyalty and tried to rationalize away their involvement in questionable groups. Others drank beer and hard spirits and hoped they would not be noticed.
The starport was swarming with Arbites and soldiers. Nothing would move without the approval of Yardilon's people. The soldiers were not inclined towards leniency. Even haughty rogue traders walked softly among them. Violence hung in the air. No blood was spilled this night, at least not here. The action was elsewhere.
Dana Yardilon consulted a holodisplay showing the starport status and sent her approval to Sepidon to continue before turning back to stair out of the booth's darkened glass windows onto the concourse below. Sindar Extos walked swivelled her chair away from the bank of monitors in front of her. Joxon's psychic talents and the attention of the best medicae on the planet had returned her to active duty with not quite as much recuperative time as the medicae would have preferred. Yardilon wasn't inclined to argue with her right hand over this. "Are we sure they are going to show up?" Extos asked. "This is a seaport, and not much more than a fairy stop, not a starport."
"Joxon's reading lead to this place."
"If the interpretation is correct," said Sindar. "The Sailor crossed by the Fugitive? It doesn't even necessarily mean a wet port."
"You forget the Maelstrom. Besides its perfect. They're plan has gone south. They could have a ship stealthed in the out system. This sea port also has facilities to handle sea planes and the space outside could accommodate the landing of a small spacecraft. A perfect exit point with a good enough pilot, especially with the storm."
"If he lands in one piece."
"Exactly."
"And we only have so many people here so that any scouts don't get jumpy and we don't lose them. I get that. I don't like it. We should bottle everything up and hunt them down."
"That just gives them more time to escape and they're too damn good at it. No, we've got a good shot at getting them all here. We are prepared and we will have surprise as well as superior numbers."
"I've tangled with Dask twice. You don't need surprise and preparation. You need to drop a Thunderhawk on top of him."
"I'll settle for putting a couple of psycannon rounds into him."
The voxline crackled. "Vehicle incoming." They gave their full attention to the screens.
"This set up is almost worthless in this murk," said Extos. On a screen, three figures wearing rain cloaks bolted from the sedan and headed towards the main terminal.
"Patience. They have to come inside. Besides, the way they are covered up we wouldn't be able to make them out anyway."
The travellers moved inside they pulled back their hoods and shook off some of the wet. "All women," said Extos. "All dark, two big, one small. Not Dask."
"But they do know that group over there," said Yardilon. "Tall red hed female. Big brunette male. Look a that body language. They're pretending they don't know each other."
"None of them are Dask."
"Patience," said Yardilon. "We already have a few in hand. In this weather, a delay isn't unusual."
------------------------------------------------------
Crabclaw Bay Terminal wasn't very busy this late at night. Two dozen passengers milled around the great hall of central terminal as they watched delays mount up. A few tried to sleep on benches or get caught up on their reading. A man in a rumpled suit, pure middle management functionary with little hope of anything other than minor promotions in the future, bought a tall cup of caffeine and a twisted sweet pastry from a vendor with a cart. He poured in heavy doses of honey and milk and juggled his food and valise, almost spilling his caff on himself. There was grey in his hair and extra weight around his belly.
He finished his caff and pastry, licking his fingers after, and headed for the bathroom. Transmission range was short in this storm, but the static would help hide his signal. It was a risk he was going to have to take. He sent a coded pulse by tapping several times on his wrist chrono. Everyone else had shown up to the retrieval meet, but so had the Imperium. Throne agents was his guess. Two of them weren't good enough at disguising their interest in the travellers.
He knew what was going to happen next. Gix's, or rather Dask's contacts had to survive and get off world to vouch for what a successful monster he was and that meant he couldn't allow them to be taken by the Inquisition. There were limits to the numbers of troops that could have been moved over here and hidden on short notice so the odds were merely totally stacked against them. The retrieval craft was undoubtedly almost here and if either of the heretic parties tried to rabbit the teeth of the trap would close. And he must be being watched as well.
Keys didn't need a go code from Gix to know what to do. He finished emptying his bladder and washing his hands. He walked down the terminal towards the far exit. As he neared the doors, Jolan Gix and Gard Vikal entered through the main doors, a pair of chrome orbs flanking them at head level. He had just run out of time.
The starport was swarming with Arbites and soldiers. Nothing would move without the approval of Yardilon's people. The soldiers were not inclined towards leniency. Even haughty rogue traders walked softly among them. Violence hung in the air. No blood was spilled this night, at least not here. The action was elsewhere.
Dana Yardilon consulted a holodisplay showing the starport status and sent her approval to Sepidon to continue before turning back to stair out of the booth's darkened glass windows onto the concourse below. Sindar Extos walked swivelled her chair away from the bank of monitors in front of her. Joxon's psychic talents and the attention of the best medicae on the planet had returned her to active duty with not quite as much recuperative time as the medicae would have preferred. Yardilon wasn't inclined to argue with her right hand over this. "Are we sure they are going to show up?" Extos asked. "This is a seaport, and not much more than a fairy stop, not a starport."
"Joxon's reading lead to this place."
"If the interpretation is correct," said Sindar. "The Sailor crossed by the Fugitive? It doesn't even necessarily mean a wet port."
"You forget the Maelstrom. Besides its perfect. They're plan has gone south. They could have a ship stealthed in the out system. This sea port also has facilities to handle sea planes and the space outside could accommodate the landing of a small spacecraft. A perfect exit point with a good enough pilot, especially with the storm."
"If he lands in one piece."
"Exactly."
"And we only have so many people here so that any scouts don't get jumpy and we don't lose them. I get that. I don't like it. We should bottle everything up and hunt them down."
"That just gives them more time to escape and they're too damn good at it. No, we've got a good shot at getting them all here. We are prepared and we will have surprise as well as superior numbers."
"I've tangled with Dask twice. You don't need surprise and preparation. You need to drop a Thunderhawk on top of him."
"I'll settle for putting a couple of psycannon rounds into him."
The voxline crackled. "Vehicle incoming." They gave their full attention to the screens.
"This set up is almost worthless in this murk," said Extos. On a screen, three figures wearing rain cloaks bolted from the sedan and headed towards the main terminal.
"Patience. They have to come inside. Besides, the way they are covered up we wouldn't be able to make them out anyway."
The travellers moved inside they pulled back their hoods and shook off some of the wet. "All women," said Extos. "All dark, two big, one small. Not Dask."
"But they do know that group over there," said Yardilon. "Tall red hed female. Big brunette male. Look a that body language. They're pretending they don't know each other."
"None of them are Dask."
"Patience," said Yardilon. "We already have a few in hand. In this weather, a delay isn't unusual."
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Crabclaw Bay Terminal wasn't very busy this late at night. Two dozen passengers milled around the great hall of central terminal as they watched delays mount up. A few tried to sleep on benches or get caught up on their reading. A man in a rumpled suit, pure middle management functionary with little hope of anything other than minor promotions in the future, bought a tall cup of caffeine and a twisted sweet pastry from a vendor with a cart. He poured in heavy doses of honey and milk and juggled his food and valise, almost spilling his caff on himself. There was grey in his hair and extra weight around his belly.
He finished his caff and pastry, licking his fingers after, and headed for the bathroom. Transmission range was short in this storm, but the static would help hide his signal. It was a risk he was going to have to take. He sent a coded pulse by tapping several times on his wrist chrono. Everyone else had shown up to the retrieval meet, but so had the Imperium. Throne agents was his guess. Two of them weren't good enough at disguising their interest in the travellers.
He knew what was going to happen next. Gix's, or rather Dask's contacts had to survive and get off world to vouch for what a successful monster he was and that meant he couldn't allow them to be taken by the Inquisition. There were limits to the numbers of troops that could have been moved over here and hidden on short notice so the odds were merely totally stacked against them. The retrieval craft was undoubtedly almost here and if either of the heretic parties tried to rabbit the teeth of the trap would close. And he must be being watched as well.
Keys didn't need a go code from Gix to know what to do. He finished emptying his bladder and washing his hands. He walked down the terminal towards the far exit. As he neared the doors, Jolan Gix and Gard Vikal entered through the main doors, a pair of chrome orbs flanking them at head level. He had just run out of time.
Last edited by Imperial Overlord on 2007-03-06 01:45am, edited 1 time in total.
The Excellent Prismatic Spray. For when you absolutely, positively must kill a motherfucker. Accept no substitutions. Contact a magician of the later Aeons for details. Some conditions may apply.
Uh oh. Looks like a giant shoot out is inevitable at this point. All I have to do is sit back and enjoy. 
(and hope that Imperium casualties are low).
EDIT: I don't get all the hate for the other inquisitor. She is just doing her job, quite competently in fact. She isn't an asshole going around executing and torturing people based on whims. Her beef with Gix is similiar to Gix's early relationship to the Psi King, and she is acting the way Gix did before he decided he had to take drastic measures.
(and hope that Imperium casualties are low).EDIT: I don't get all the hate for the other inquisitor. She is just doing her job, quite competently in fact. She isn't an asshole going around executing and torturing people based on whims. Her beef with Gix is similiar to Gix's early relationship to the Psi King, and she is acting the way Gix did before he decided he had to take drastic measures.
Last edited by Raj Ahten on 2007-03-05 02:31pm, edited 1 time in total.
Plots within plots, wheels withing wheels and some meddling Imperial fool to throw a monkeywrench into them all.
Know this,Imperial Overlord: I am really, really rooting for Gix to pull through. In fact, you've managed to get me emotionally invested enough so that when he finally drops the hammer on this whole conspiracy, it will be an immensely satisfying moment.
Not that I have doubts he will suceed. I remember that you don't seem to like this whole "It has to be grim and angsty and dark and nasty all the fucking time!" outlook on WH40K. Please, don't disappoint me
Know this,Imperial Overlord: I am really, really rooting for Gix to pull through. In fact, you've managed to get me emotionally invested enough so that when he finally drops the hammer on this whole conspiracy, it will be an immensely satisfying moment.
Not that I have doubts he will suceed. I remember that you don't seem to like this whole "It has to be grim and angsty and dark and nasty all the fucking time!" outlook on WH40K. Please, don't disappoint me
Overlord doesn't play the 'grim and angsty' angle, no... but he does remember that in 40K, every victory comes at a high cost.
The question will be how Gix pays that cost when he gets there.
The question will be how Gix pays that cost when he gets there.
Me: Nope, that's why I have you around to tell me.
Nitram: You -are- beautiful. Anyone tries to tell you otherwise kill them.
"A life is like a garden. Perfect moments can be had, but not preserved, except in memory. LLAP" -- Leonard Nimoy, last Tweet
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Imperial Overlord
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"The booth," said Gard Vikal as he headed for the cover of the vendor's cart. Jolan tossed aside his rain cloak, revealing the the daemon blade Azuregel. Gold runes crawled up the length of the malevolent grey steel and azure flames crawled along the blade's edges.
"Throne!" cursed Yardilon as Gix raised the blade and pointed it at the booth. Extos grabbed her arm and yanked her down and back as the booth exploded in blue flame. Yardilon's own psychic defences allowed her to keep the seething warp fire at bay while Extos's hexagrammic wards shielded her from the worst of the blast. Fortunately, both were at the periphery of the blast.
Keys reached into his shirt and withdrew the short framed bolt pistol that was wrapped along his stomach. He didn't normally favor bolt weapons, except for specialist rifles, but they were times when their advantages overrode their disadvantages. Like now.
Carapace armoured troops stormed out of the maintenance room. Danell shot the first through the face with a Kraken pattern armour piercer. The blot round penetrated the mirrored face visor and the soldier jerked and fell. Keys put two rounds through the chest of the man behind him, downing him as blood sprayed from the wounds. The third man was pointing a combat shotgun in his direction. Time slowed.
Azure fire filled the area, turning flesh to ash and bones to char. Bullets Cooked off and synthetics melted. Keys rolled to the side, making himself as difficult target as he scrambled away. He hunted for possible enemies as he moved.
Callia Grace's bodyguards opened up with autopistols on the bystanders, not bothering to trying and distinguish who might or might not be a security agent. They gunned down two men and a woman in a spray of blood. The last woman, a short haired blonde, had managed to pull a stubber and put a round in one of the bodyguard's stomach. The flak armour they both wore stopped the bullet, but she doubled over in pain.
Gard Vikal strafed the booth with his Dark Eldar splinter pistol. The ammunition of the xenos weapon was impregnated with a potent paralytic and would slice through light body armour. His psi tracker was still registering activity from the room. A Throne agent took advantage of his distraction to draw down on him.
Ports opened on the bodies of the chrome orbs. Blue-white las beams flickered out and struck him in the right arm, left leg, and twice in the chest. He fell, his las pistol clattering on the floor. Inquisition troops, wearing carapace armour over dark red flak armour, poured out of an employees only area, hellguns clutched in their hands.
The amazons fell, shot a half dozen times each by blazing white hellgun beams which burned through their armour and blew bloody holes in their flesh. Several bolts stopped centimeters from "Callia Grace", the flash of their beams outlining the psychic force shield around her. The Queen of Nightmares smiled behind her psychic shield and then she struck.
The telepathic blast was enough to drop Katreen and her bodyguard to their knees, even though they were at the periphery of the blast. The glass ceiling panels cracked and frost coated the floor. The Inquisition armsmen fell to their knees and blood poured out of every orifice. The Queen of Nightmares twisted the psychic knife, sending more power in the
telepathic assault. Men bayed like dogs and tore out their eyes and opened their throats with their bare hands.
Sindar Extos burst out behind them, protected by being at the edge of the blast and her own hexagrammic wards. Her bolt pistol was useless against the psyker's shields, she knew that. That's why she had another weapon in her other hand. The Queen of Nightmares saw the grenade leave Extos's hand and bounce nearby before it detonated. Then she screamed as a dark cloud spread across the warp and real space, dissolving her shield and suppressing her powers. She fell flat on her face and moaned.
Las beams from Gard Vikal's orbs struck around her and two beams took her in the chest. Her breastplate took the worst of the blasts and two quick bursts from her bolt pistol blew the gun orbs apart. The physician dodged behind a corner, his pistol sending a wave of lethal splinters in what was vaguely her direction.
Jolan ran across the hall at superhuman speed, his warp accelerated speed enabling him to move to swiftly for Yardilon to accurately track him. Her pyscannon blew holes in the walls and floor in his wake. He sent of lance of blue-white fire up at her, but she had ducked out of the way and hit him with a telepathic hammer that caused him to stumble.
Katreen screamed and fired at Extos with her long barreled laspistol as her bodyguard ran to drag the Queen of Nightmares out of the line of fire. A scarlet beam struck the wall by the Throne agent and another notched her ear. Extos fired a short burst. Katreen's head exploded and splattered the floor with a bloody mass of brains and hair.
The distractions had given Keys more than enough time to move. He darted across the floor, firing several shots at the booth and then arcing a frag grenade inside. The assassin switched targets, bringing his pistol to bear on Sindar Extos. He fired.
Kraken rounds blew through the wall next to Sindar as Keys fired on the run. He walked the fire towards the former Arbites, but the magazine clicked empty as he brought the gun to bear. Sindar fired back. Bolter shells exploded around Danell as he dodged and reloaded. Sindar kept firing.
A shell struck Keys in the left shoulder and burst. The assassin suppressed a scream as his arm was nearly severed by the explosion. Blood sprayed from the wound and Keys fell, sliding in the blood from Queen of Nightmares' dead bodyguards. The bolt pistol slipped from his hand and bounced on the floor.
A brilliant blue-white lance of flame shot from the daemon blade and and struck Sindar. The Throne agent had barely time to scream as her flesh was burned to ash. Her body fell as Yardilon came out into the hall, psycannon in hand.
Jolan rounded on her and struck her with a telekinetic blast. The inquisitor was staggered by its force, her psycannon torn from her grasp and sent spinning through the air. She drew her force blade, a meter long blade of slightly curved, single edge matte black synthetic. The warp lent power to her muscles and she charged.
The two inquisitors met in a clash of warp augmented strength and speed. The daemon sword Azuregel howled as it clashed against Yardilon's force blade. A telekinetic flick from Yardilon almost knocked his legs out from under him. Yardilon pressed her advantage, kicking his legs out from under him. Gix rolled away as Yardilon stabbed down and cracked the floor.
A telekinetic thrust catapulted the inquisitor back to his feet and he unleashed a powerful overhead strike with Azurgel, the daemon blade's edges blazing with azure flame. Yardilon parried and fell back. Gix followed up with several powerful blows from the daemon weapon, which growled in anticipation of slaughter.
Jolan struck again and Yardilon parried, directing the daemon blade away from her. She flicked her wrist and riposted, slicing open a shallow wound along Gix's left side. She followed up with a stab at his upper chest.
Jolan was moving out of the way even as she struck, his warp granted foresight having warned him. Yardilon realized that she had over extended herself even as she was striking and brought her blade over to parry the sweeping cut Gix was making with Azurgel. It was only a small mistake, a brief overextension.
It was enough. Azurgel slipped through her guard and cut through her flesh, slicing all the way through to her spine. The daemon weapon surged with power. For a brief moment blue light shined through her skin and out of her mouth. Then he flesh exploded into ash on charred bones clattered on the floor.
Jolan let out a long, slow breath. He could feel the urge from Azurgel to continue to slay, to slaughter an army, a city's worth of victims to it. He fought it down and brutally thrust the impulses back into the blade. A low moan caught his attention. He turned toward it.
The Queen of Nightmares was shaking her head as she regained her feet, still nauseated by the effects of the psyk out grenade. Katreen's guard stood over her, growling fiercely. Then his focus fell on Keys. Gard was crouched over the assassin. Gix rushed over.
Keys was drenched in blood, some of it his own. The inquisitor reached out with his psychic powers, feeding power into the assassin's body and stimulating his body's recuperative abilities. "Gard?"
"I can't save the arm," said the medicae. "Not with the facilities available." He a slim blade from his kit and activated the powerfield. He severed the limb with a single, precise stroke. Keys didn't even flinch. "I'll see to him, you handle the rest."
"Yes," said Gix as he rose up. "'Callia Grace', I presume. Or should I call you the Queen of Nightmares. Clever, posing as one of your aspirants."
"Your more impressive than I thought you would be," she said. "If the ship doesn't get here soon, we'll need another exit plan."
"It's almost here," said Gix. "We have a couple more orbs outside. One jamming coms so no reinforcements can interrupt us, another doing auspex sweeps. Its detected an incoming vessel, big enough to be our ride."
"Good," she said. "Is your man worth the effort?"
"He's the reason you're not dead. You tell me."
"We've done what we came for. Let's leave this rock."
"I haven't gotten what I came for," he said.
"Ahh yes, your reward. Don't worry, you'll get it. And a new name."
"New name?"
"None of the Illuminated Masters wears a name as prosaic as Sevren Dask. The Gamesmen will rename you when he makes you one of us. You'll still be at the bottom, but the least Illuminated Master is greater than the mightiest king. Its everything you've been striving for." She smiled cruelly at him. "Aren't you happy?"
He smiled back, the smile of a hungry predator. "Oh yes."
"Throne!" cursed Yardilon as Gix raised the blade and pointed it at the booth. Extos grabbed her arm and yanked her down and back as the booth exploded in blue flame. Yardilon's own psychic defences allowed her to keep the seething warp fire at bay while Extos's hexagrammic wards shielded her from the worst of the blast. Fortunately, both were at the periphery of the blast.
Keys reached into his shirt and withdrew the short framed bolt pistol that was wrapped along his stomach. He didn't normally favor bolt weapons, except for specialist rifles, but they were times when their advantages overrode their disadvantages. Like now.
Carapace armoured troops stormed out of the maintenance room. Danell shot the first through the face with a Kraken pattern armour piercer. The blot round penetrated the mirrored face visor and the soldier jerked and fell. Keys put two rounds through the chest of the man behind him, downing him as blood sprayed from the wounds. The third man was pointing a combat shotgun in his direction. Time slowed.
Azure fire filled the area, turning flesh to ash and bones to char. Bullets Cooked off and synthetics melted. Keys rolled to the side, making himself as difficult target as he scrambled away. He hunted for possible enemies as he moved.
Callia Grace's bodyguards opened up with autopistols on the bystanders, not bothering to trying and distinguish who might or might not be a security agent. They gunned down two men and a woman in a spray of blood. The last woman, a short haired blonde, had managed to pull a stubber and put a round in one of the bodyguard's stomach. The flak armour they both wore stopped the bullet, but she doubled over in pain.
Gard Vikal strafed the booth with his Dark Eldar splinter pistol. The ammunition of the xenos weapon was impregnated with a potent paralytic and would slice through light body armour. His psi tracker was still registering activity from the room. A Throne agent took advantage of his distraction to draw down on him.
Ports opened on the bodies of the chrome orbs. Blue-white las beams flickered out and struck him in the right arm, left leg, and twice in the chest. He fell, his las pistol clattering on the floor. Inquisition troops, wearing carapace armour over dark red flak armour, poured out of an employees only area, hellguns clutched in their hands.
The amazons fell, shot a half dozen times each by blazing white hellgun beams which burned through their armour and blew bloody holes in their flesh. Several bolts stopped centimeters from "Callia Grace", the flash of their beams outlining the psychic force shield around her. The Queen of Nightmares smiled behind her psychic shield and then she struck.
The telepathic blast was enough to drop Katreen and her bodyguard to their knees, even though they were at the periphery of the blast. The glass ceiling panels cracked and frost coated the floor. The Inquisition armsmen fell to their knees and blood poured out of every orifice. The Queen of Nightmares twisted the psychic knife, sending more power in the
telepathic assault. Men bayed like dogs and tore out their eyes and opened their throats with their bare hands.
Sindar Extos burst out behind them, protected by being at the edge of the blast and her own hexagrammic wards. Her bolt pistol was useless against the psyker's shields, she knew that. That's why she had another weapon in her other hand. The Queen of Nightmares saw the grenade leave Extos's hand and bounce nearby before it detonated. Then she screamed as a dark cloud spread across the warp and real space, dissolving her shield and suppressing her powers. She fell flat on her face and moaned.
Las beams from Gard Vikal's orbs struck around her and two beams took her in the chest. Her breastplate took the worst of the blasts and two quick bursts from her bolt pistol blew the gun orbs apart. The physician dodged behind a corner, his pistol sending a wave of lethal splinters in what was vaguely her direction.
Jolan ran across the hall at superhuman speed, his warp accelerated speed enabling him to move to swiftly for Yardilon to accurately track him. Her pyscannon blew holes in the walls and floor in his wake. He sent of lance of blue-white fire up at her, but she had ducked out of the way and hit him with a telepathic hammer that caused him to stumble.
Katreen screamed and fired at Extos with her long barreled laspistol as her bodyguard ran to drag the Queen of Nightmares out of the line of fire. A scarlet beam struck the wall by the Throne agent and another notched her ear. Extos fired a short burst. Katreen's head exploded and splattered the floor with a bloody mass of brains and hair.
The distractions had given Keys more than enough time to move. He darted across the floor, firing several shots at the booth and then arcing a frag grenade inside. The assassin switched targets, bringing his pistol to bear on Sindar Extos. He fired.
Kraken rounds blew through the wall next to Sindar as Keys fired on the run. He walked the fire towards the former Arbites, but the magazine clicked empty as he brought the gun to bear. Sindar fired back. Bolter shells exploded around Danell as he dodged and reloaded. Sindar kept firing.
A shell struck Keys in the left shoulder and burst. The assassin suppressed a scream as his arm was nearly severed by the explosion. Blood sprayed from the wound and Keys fell, sliding in the blood from Queen of Nightmares' dead bodyguards. The bolt pistol slipped from his hand and bounced on the floor.
A brilliant blue-white lance of flame shot from the daemon blade and and struck Sindar. The Throne agent had barely time to scream as her flesh was burned to ash. Her body fell as Yardilon came out into the hall, psycannon in hand.
Jolan rounded on her and struck her with a telekinetic blast. The inquisitor was staggered by its force, her psycannon torn from her grasp and sent spinning through the air. She drew her force blade, a meter long blade of slightly curved, single edge matte black synthetic. The warp lent power to her muscles and she charged.
The two inquisitors met in a clash of warp augmented strength and speed. The daemon sword Azuregel howled as it clashed against Yardilon's force blade. A telekinetic flick from Yardilon almost knocked his legs out from under him. Yardilon pressed her advantage, kicking his legs out from under him. Gix rolled away as Yardilon stabbed down and cracked the floor.
A telekinetic thrust catapulted the inquisitor back to his feet and he unleashed a powerful overhead strike with Azurgel, the daemon blade's edges blazing with azure flame. Yardilon parried and fell back. Gix followed up with several powerful blows from the daemon weapon, which growled in anticipation of slaughter.
Jolan struck again and Yardilon parried, directing the daemon blade away from her. She flicked her wrist and riposted, slicing open a shallow wound along Gix's left side. She followed up with a stab at his upper chest.
Jolan was moving out of the way even as she struck, his warp granted foresight having warned him. Yardilon realized that she had over extended herself even as she was striking and brought her blade over to parry the sweeping cut Gix was making with Azurgel. It was only a small mistake, a brief overextension.
It was enough. Azurgel slipped through her guard and cut through her flesh, slicing all the way through to her spine. The daemon weapon surged with power. For a brief moment blue light shined through her skin and out of her mouth. Then he flesh exploded into ash on charred bones clattered on the floor.
Jolan let out a long, slow breath. He could feel the urge from Azurgel to continue to slay, to slaughter an army, a city's worth of victims to it. He fought it down and brutally thrust the impulses back into the blade. A low moan caught his attention. He turned toward it.
The Queen of Nightmares was shaking her head as she regained her feet, still nauseated by the effects of the psyk out grenade. Katreen's guard stood over her, growling fiercely. Then his focus fell on Keys. Gard was crouched over the assassin. Gix rushed over.
Keys was drenched in blood, some of it his own. The inquisitor reached out with his psychic powers, feeding power into the assassin's body and stimulating his body's recuperative abilities. "Gard?"
"I can't save the arm," said the medicae. "Not with the facilities available." He a slim blade from his kit and activated the powerfield. He severed the limb with a single, precise stroke. Keys didn't even flinch. "I'll see to him, you handle the rest."
"Yes," said Gix as he rose up. "'Callia Grace', I presume. Or should I call you the Queen of Nightmares. Clever, posing as one of your aspirants."
"Your more impressive than I thought you would be," she said. "If the ship doesn't get here soon, we'll need another exit plan."
"It's almost here," said Gix. "We have a couple more orbs outside. One jamming coms so no reinforcements can interrupt us, another doing auspex sweeps. Its detected an incoming vessel, big enough to be our ride."
"Good," she said. "Is your man worth the effort?"
"He's the reason you're not dead. You tell me."
"We've done what we came for. Let's leave this rock."
"I haven't gotten what I came for," he said.
"Ahh yes, your reward. Don't worry, you'll get it. And a new name."
"New name?"
"None of the Illuminated Masters wears a name as prosaic as Sevren Dask. The Gamesmen will rename you when he makes you one of us. You'll still be at the bottom, but the least Illuminated Master is greater than the mightiest king. Its everything you've been striving for." She smiled cruelly at him. "Aren't you happy?"
He smiled back, the smile of a hungry predator. "Oh yes."
The Excellent Prismatic Spray. For when you absolutely, positively must kill a motherfucker. Accept no substitutions. Contact a magician of the later Aeons for details. Some conditions may apply.
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Chris OFarrell
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Vehrec
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One question yet remains, has he outwitted the tricksters, or have they outwitted him? Even your Daemon sword and your warp sorcery may not save you where you are going Gix. And I did like how the blade was portrayed. I assume that some servator of Khorne is bound to it somehow if it lusts for blood as it does? Or do all daemons bound to weapons act that way?
Commander of the MFS Darwinian Selection Method (sexual)In the world of Tzeentchian intrigue it's entirely possible the entire Chaos cult is just an expendable asset set up as a scapegoat to be sacrificed in order to protect some other, bigger and nastier plot.Vehrec wrote:One question yet remains, has he outwitted the tricksters, or have they outwitted him? Even your Daemon sword and your warp sorcery may not save you where you are going Gix. And I did like how the blade was portrayed. I assume that some servator of Khorne is bound to it somehow if it lusts for blood as it does? Or do all daemons bound to weapons act that way?
We're talking schemes that last through centuries here...But personally I always found this to be just a lot of smoke and mirrors, or bullshit, depending how you look at it. Tzeentch has been thwarted before, and he's not all-knowing. After all, Gix has the Emperor's blessing with him, and no foul, pitiful worshipper of the Ruinous Powers can ever hope to match that. So there!
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Imperial Overlord
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The blade augments Jolan's psychic abilities. It most definitely not a Khornate daemon bound within. A love of violence and slaughter is not exclusive to the followers of Khorne. The Keeper of Secrets, for example, is a sadistic killing machine.Vehrec wrote:And I did like how the blade was portrayed. I assume that some servator of Khorne is bound to it somehow if it lusts for blood as it does? Or do all daemons bound to weapons act that way?
The Excellent Prismatic Spray. For when you absolutely, positively must kill a motherfucker. Accept no substitutions. Contact a magician of the later Aeons for details. Some conditions may apply.
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Imperial Overlord
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- Joined: 2004-08-19 04:30am
- Location: The Tower at Charm
Senior Judge Solon Katruil smoothed his fur lined ceremonial robes and signaled that his visitor should be admitted with a wave of his beringed hand. The ponderous doors swung open and admitted a tall, heavily built man wearing a dark blue uniform set with gold and a chestful of medals. Kerlos Levian's hair was just slightly touched with grey and the faint lines of several old scars could still be seen on his face. His gaze was like steel.
"Fairly austere," said the Imperial Guard general with a grunt. The room was barren with the exception of holo candles flittering in their sconces and an immense golden aquila emblazoned high on the wall.
"We have little need of conspicuous display, except in pursuit of our duties. Our private quarters do not require ostentation." The senior judge was correct, but his words were at odds with his appearance. He wore a jewelled ring on each finger and a heavy gold pendant around his neck. His vulture like head and neck protruded from the furred collar of his dark formal robe.
"Of course," said Levian. "The demands of duty and all that. I am told you are in charge in the wake of the Sabar-Governor's death?"
"For the moment, yes. The loss of several senior ministers has not made things easier."
"Allow me to offer my services," said Kerlos Levian. "My troops are currently reinforcing your Judges and the PDF, but all indications are that active resistance ceased weeks ago."
"Yes. The assassination of Sabar-Governor Hesh did not have the effect the heretics hoped for."
"I have considerable background in planetary administration," Levian continued. "Me and my staff can be of assistance to you in this matter. Hesh was a man of extraordinary vision and ability. We are obligated by our oaths to the Imperium to preserve everything he built and see to it that his legacy continues into the future."
"I was not aware that you were familiar with the Sabar-Governor," said Katruil.
"Mostly with his military career before he became an Imperial Commander," said Levian. "When me and my troops were called here I did some research. I grew up in the household lead by extraordinary men, that is nothing new to me, and I looked forward to working with and learning from the Sabar-Governor. If you will permit me, I would like to discuss several ideas for securing and cementing his legacy."
"Do continue," said Katruil. "Let us take this discussion to my personal quarters and indulge in some refreshments."
"A capital idea."
-------------------------------------------------------------
Domina sprung violently awake. She passed her hand over the sensor that triggered the light. Her pale flesh gleamed with sweat. There was no softness about her, only scarred skin over iron hard muscle. The Sororitas warrior got out of bed and put on a simple shift and left her cell at a run. "Hethor!" she cried out. "Melina!"
Shala Nofield stook her head out the door and looked around blearily. It was the middle of the night and the former Commissar's missing arm was bothering her again. "What in the Emperor's name is going on?" she said blearily.
"Get everyone!" Domina shouted.
"Crazy witch," Nofield mumbled and went back inside to throw on a tunic and put on her boots. By the time she got dressed and left her room, Domina had managed to wake everyone. Hethor and Melina were wearing robes and nothing else. From the look on Hethor's face they had been doing something that did not warrant trivial interruption. Nofield repressed a snicker.
"What is it?" Hethor growled.
"Nathan spoke to me," said Domina. "Jolan is on his way to the heart of the enemy's lair. We must be ready."
"Are you sure?" Hethor asked.
"Yes!" Domina shouted.
"Then let's get moving," said Hethor. A new light entered his eyes. "We need messages sent Nevan and Valin. I'll get my boys and girls squared away. We need the Will back immediately. All local business handed over to lieutenants. We're going to war!"
"Fairly austere," said the Imperial Guard general with a grunt. The room was barren with the exception of holo candles flittering in their sconces and an immense golden aquila emblazoned high on the wall.
"We have little need of conspicuous display, except in pursuit of our duties. Our private quarters do not require ostentation." The senior judge was correct, but his words were at odds with his appearance. He wore a jewelled ring on each finger and a heavy gold pendant around his neck. His vulture like head and neck protruded from the furred collar of his dark formal robe.
"Of course," said Levian. "The demands of duty and all that. I am told you are in charge in the wake of the Sabar-Governor's death?"
"For the moment, yes. The loss of several senior ministers has not made things easier."
"Allow me to offer my services," said Kerlos Levian. "My troops are currently reinforcing your Judges and the PDF, but all indications are that active resistance ceased weeks ago."
"Yes. The assassination of Sabar-Governor Hesh did not have the effect the heretics hoped for."
"I have considerable background in planetary administration," Levian continued. "Me and my staff can be of assistance to you in this matter. Hesh was a man of extraordinary vision and ability. We are obligated by our oaths to the Imperium to preserve everything he built and see to it that his legacy continues into the future."
"I was not aware that you were familiar with the Sabar-Governor," said Katruil.
"Mostly with his military career before he became an Imperial Commander," said Levian. "When me and my troops were called here I did some research. I grew up in the household lead by extraordinary men, that is nothing new to me, and I looked forward to working with and learning from the Sabar-Governor. If you will permit me, I would like to discuss several ideas for securing and cementing his legacy."
"Do continue," said Katruil. "Let us take this discussion to my personal quarters and indulge in some refreshments."
"A capital idea."
-------------------------------------------------------------
Domina sprung violently awake. She passed her hand over the sensor that triggered the light. Her pale flesh gleamed with sweat. There was no softness about her, only scarred skin over iron hard muscle. The Sororitas warrior got out of bed and put on a simple shift and left her cell at a run. "Hethor!" she cried out. "Melina!"
Shala Nofield stook her head out the door and looked around blearily. It was the middle of the night and the former Commissar's missing arm was bothering her again. "What in the Emperor's name is going on?" she said blearily.
"Get everyone!" Domina shouted.
"Crazy witch," Nofield mumbled and went back inside to throw on a tunic and put on her boots. By the time she got dressed and left her room, Domina had managed to wake everyone. Hethor and Melina were wearing robes and nothing else. From the look on Hethor's face they had been doing something that did not warrant trivial interruption. Nofield repressed a snicker.
"What is it?" Hethor growled.
"Nathan spoke to me," said Domina. "Jolan is on his way to the heart of the enemy's lair. We must be ready."
"Are you sure?" Hethor asked.
"Yes!" Domina shouted.
"Then let's get moving," said Hethor. A new light entered his eyes. "We need messages sent Nevan and Valin. I'll get my boys and girls squared away. We need the Will back immediately. All local business handed over to lieutenants. We're going to war!"
The Excellent Prismatic Spray. For when you absolutely, positively must kill a motherfucker. Accept no substitutions. Contact a magician of the later Aeons for details. Some conditions may apply.
Interesting. Does this mean we'll be seeing more of Kyra and Severa, or perhaps more delectable naval combat in true grand BFG style?Imperial Overlord wrote:"We need messages sent Nevan and Valin. I'll get my boys and girls squared away. We need the Will back immediately. All local business handed over to lieutenants. We're going to war!"
In any case, what an awesome set of updates, IO. I think what LadyTevar said a few pages back is going to be even more relevant now -- Gix is going to have to do some very intensive introspection after all this is over, especially now that he's killed a fellow inquisitor (and who knows how many innocents besides) who was just doing her job, and indirectly sealed the fate of a noble man he helped put in power to begin with. You truly are a master when it comes to exploring that nebulous gray area that is morality in the 40k universe.
"There is a high statistical probability of death by gunshot. A punch to the face is also likely." - Legion
"The machine is strong. We must purge the weak, hated flesh and replace it with the blessed purity of metal. Only through permanence can we truly triumph, only though the Machine can we find victory. Punish the flesh. Iron in mind and body. Hail the machine!" - Paullian Blantar, Iron Father of the Kaargul Clan, Iron Hands Chapter
"The machine is strong. We must purge the weak, hated flesh and replace it with the blessed purity of metal. Only through permanence can we truly triumph, only though the Machine can we find victory. Punish the flesh. Iron in mind and body. Hail the machine!" - Paullian Blantar, Iron Father of the Kaargul Clan, Iron Hands Chapter
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Imperial Overlord
- Emperor's Hand
- Posts: 11978
- Joined: 2004-08-19 04:30am
- Location: The Tower at Charm
Woa there! Let's not get ahead of ourselves. He has to live through this mess before he can do any agonized soul searching.Dominus wrote:
In any case, what an awesome set of updates, IO. I think what LadyTevar said a few pages back is going to be even more relevant now -- Gix is going to have to do some very intensive introspection after all this is over, especially now that he's killed a fellow inquisitor (and who knows how many innocents besides) who was just doing her job, and indirectly sealed the fate of a noble man he helped put in power to begin with. You truly are a master when it comes to exploring that nebulous gray area that is morality in the 40k universe.
The Excellent Prismatic Spray. For when you absolutely, positively must kill a motherfucker. Accept no substitutions. Contact a magician of the later Aeons for details. Some conditions may apply.
-
Imperial Overlord
- Emperor's Hand
- Posts: 11978
- Joined: 2004-08-19 04:30am
- Location: The Tower at Charm
Jolan thrashed under the covers and yawned. He pulled back the covers a little, testing the temperature. It was toasty warm in his suite. He luxuriated in bed for a few minutes and then got up and padded across the carpet to the bathroom. He indulged himself with a long shower, shaved, and put on his clothes. He looked at himself in the mirror, at the alien flesh he had worn for years. A merciless blonde brute armed with animal cunning looked back. How Jolan longed to to kill him and all his ilk.
He grabbed a piece of fruit out of the bowl on his table and exited his suite. It had been a surprisingly long voyage through the warp and he had fallen into a routine. It was deceptively easy to relax and let down his guard. Jolan indulged not because he was relaxing his guard, here at the onset of his most dangerous campaign, but to do otherwise would be to arouse suspicion.
He met with Gard Vikal and and Danell Keys in a study that was part of their linked suites. Keys was sitting in a chair by a caffeine table and bouncing a rubber ball and catching it. Gard nodded as Jolan entered. "Late morning?" he said. He was reading a book from the towering oak bookshelf that took up most of one wall.
"Yes," said Jolan. "How is everyone?" he sat down in chair opposite Gard.
"The one armed man is doing fine," said Keys dryly. "He would like to get to a place where he can get another arm though."
"The patient is in good health and remains dangerous," said Gard. "We made transition sometime early this morning, ship time. We might finally be here, wherever that might be."
"The amount of time we've spent in the Immaterium, we can't be in the same sector," said Keys. "Maybe even pushed another Segmentum."
"If we made good time," said Gix. "Maybe we just made bad time."
"The Warp can be a fickle bitch," said Gard. "I prefer the material universe and the iron laws of physics myself."
"That's why you're the physician and I'm the sorcerer," said Jolan. "Any indication of where we have arrived?"
"None. The common crew doesn't know, which isn't really a surprise. These old trading ships are worlds of their own, floating through space. Why should the stewards know which world they are near now?"
"Check the cogitator?" asked Gix.
"Yes. Nothing. Considering the ship masters, how shall I put it, less than firmly legal business that's not surprising."
"Time to harass the ship's officers."
"What about our patron?"
"You mean the woman who wants to elevate me to the rank of Illuminated Master so that I will be grateful to her and dependent on her knowledge of upper level power politics, making me an ideal pawn? No, I don't think she's the best first choice."
Jolan got up and walked out the door. Outside the guest suites the ship was countless kilometers of poorly illuminated cold metal corridors. Jolan walked down them, heading of a distant lift car and punched the buttons for the upper levels.
He emerged in brightly lit corridor with two armsmen guarding the entrance to the bridge tower lift at the other end. Jolan walked towards them.
The armsmen wore ceramite breastplates over environmental suits. Their gloved hands held shotguns with large ammunition clips. Jolan approached. "I need to speak with the captain."
"Passengers are not permitted on the bridge cathedral," said the one on the left.
"When would the captain or some other senior bridge officer be free to speak with me?" asked Jolan.
The looked at each other. "Senior Lieutenant Calliday is probably on the port side observation deck."
"Thank you," said Gix. He retreated down the corridor and entered the lift. Several decks and several hundred meters of corridor later and he entered the port side observation deck. Huge steel shutters were open along the length of the gallery, exposing huge armourplast windows that looked out into space. A half dozen tables and a small galley in an adjacent room allowed officers and passengers to partake of meals while enjoying the view.
Gix approached a middle aged man with a fringe of white in his dark brown hair and beard. A coat with heavy gold braid was thrown over a chair. "Senior Lieutenant Calliday?" Jolan asked.
The man looked up from his plate of noodles and braised shellfish, his fork suspended half way to his mouth. "Yes?" he said irritatedly.
"Could you enlighten me as to which star system we have arrived at?"
"Jivanne," he said. "Anything else?"
"Jivanne?" said Jolan Gix.
"Yes, Jivanne," he said acidly. "Anything else?"
"No, nothing at all." Jolan walked away. Jivanne was a poor choice for a cult headquarters. Poor warp route access, a highly competent and progressive government, and a large and skilled military loyal to the ruling dynasty. Ambitious Jivannian aristos tended to leave their home system at the head of Imperial Guard regiments or joining another branch of Imperial service. He had supported the advancement Jivannians in two different subsectors because they were so competent. Either the Gamesman was very clever and knew how to work the system or their was something deeply wrong with Jivanne. Both answers were possible, but Jolan had a strong feeling that it was worse than he imagined.
He grabbed a piece of fruit out of the bowl on his table and exited his suite. It had been a surprisingly long voyage through the warp and he had fallen into a routine. It was deceptively easy to relax and let down his guard. Jolan indulged not because he was relaxing his guard, here at the onset of his most dangerous campaign, but to do otherwise would be to arouse suspicion.
He met with Gard Vikal and and Danell Keys in a study that was part of their linked suites. Keys was sitting in a chair by a caffeine table and bouncing a rubber ball and catching it. Gard nodded as Jolan entered. "Late morning?" he said. He was reading a book from the towering oak bookshelf that took up most of one wall.
"Yes," said Jolan. "How is everyone?" he sat down in chair opposite Gard.
"The one armed man is doing fine," said Keys dryly. "He would like to get to a place where he can get another arm though."
"The patient is in good health and remains dangerous," said Gard. "We made transition sometime early this morning, ship time. We might finally be here, wherever that might be."
"The amount of time we've spent in the Immaterium, we can't be in the same sector," said Keys. "Maybe even pushed another Segmentum."
"If we made good time," said Gix. "Maybe we just made bad time."
"The Warp can be a fickle bitch," said Gard. "I prefer the material universe and the iron laws of physics myself."
"That's why you're the physician and I'm the sorcerer," said Jolan. "Any indication of where we have arrived?"
"None. The common crew doesn't know, which isn't really a surprise. These old trading ships are worlds of their own, floating through space. Why should the stewards know which world they are near now?"
"Check the cogitator?" asked Gix.
"Yes. Nothing. Considering the ship masters, how shall I put it, less than firmly legal business that's not surprising."
"Time to harass the ship's officers."
"What about our patron?"
"You mean the woman who wants to elevate me to the rank of Illuminated Master so that I will be grateful to her and dependent on her knowledge of upper level power politics, making me an ideal pawn? No, I don't think she's the best first choice."
Jolan got up and walked out the door. Outside the guest suites the ship was countless kilometers of poorly illuminated cold metal corridors. Jolan walked down them, heading of a distant lift car and punched the buttons for the upper levels.
He emerged in brightly lit corridor with two armsmen guarding the entrance to the bridge tower lift at the other end. Jolan walked towards them.
The armsmen wore ceramite breastplates over environmental suits. Their gloved hands held shotguns with large ammunition clips. Jolan approached. "I need to speak with the captain."
"Passengers are not permitted on the bridge cathedral," said the one on the left.
"When would the captain or some other senior bridge officer be free to speak with me?" asked Jolan.
The looked at each other. "Senior Lieutenant Calliday is probably on the port side observation deck."
"Thank you," said Gix. He retreated down the corridor and entered the lift. Several decks and several hundred meters of corridor later and he entered the port side observation deck. Huge steel shutters were open along the length of the gallery, exposing huge armourplast windows that looked out into space. A half dozen tables and a small galley in an adjacent room allowed officers and passengers to partake of meals while enjoying the view.
Gix approached a middle aged man with a fringe of white in his dark brown hair and beard. A coat with heavy gold braid was thrown over a chair. "Senior Lieutenant Calliday?" Jolan asked.
The man looked up from his plate of noodles and braised shellfish, his fork suspended half way to his mouth. "Yes?" he said irritatedly.
"Could you enlighten me as to which star system we have arrived at?"
"Jivanne," he said. "Anything else?"
"Jivanne?" said Jolan Gix.
"Yes, Jivanne," he said acidly. "Anything else?"
"No, nothing at all." Jolan walked away. Jivanne was a poor choice for a cult headquarters. Poor warp route access, a highly competent and progressive government, and a large and skilled military loyal to the ruling dynasty. Ambitious Jivannian aristos tended to leave their home system at the head of Imperial Guard regiments or joining another branch of Imperial service. He had supported the advancement Jivannians in two different subsectors because they were so competent. Either the Gamesman was very clever and knew how to work the system or their was something deeply wrong with Jivanne. Both answers were possible, but Jolan had a strong feeling that it was worse than he imagined.
The Excellent Prismatic Spray. For when you absolutely, positively must kill a motherfucker. Accept no substitutions. Contact a magician of the later Aeons for details. Some conditions may apply.
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General Trelane (Retired)
- Jedi Knight
- Posts: 620
- Joined: 2002-07-31 05:27pm
- Location: Gothos
Well and well. I have not kept up with this story, but now I will have to remedy that.
One minor nitpick. . .from two story-posts back:
One minor nitpick. . .from two story-posts back:
If Levian is as competent as implied, I would expect him to use the subjective pronoun when appropriate. So it should be "My staff and Ican be. . ." and "When my troops and I wer called. . .""I have considerable background in planetary administration," Levian continued. "Me and my staff can be of assistance to you in this matter. [. . .]"
"I was not aware that you were familiar with the Sabar-Governor," said Katruil.
"Mostly with his military career before he became an Imperial Commander," said Levian. "When me and my troops were called here I did some research. [. . .]"
Time makes more converts than reason. -- Thomas Paine, Common Sense, 1776
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Imperial Overlord
- Emperor's Hand
- Posts: 11978
- Joined: 2004-08-19 04:30am
- Location: The Tower at Charm
Like so many grammerical rules, this one is frequently violated in spoken conversation. If you think it reflects negatively on his ability as a general or administrator, so be it.General Trelane (Retired) wrote: If Levian is as competent as implied, I would expect him to use the subjective pronoun when appropriate. So it should be "My staff and Ican be. . ." and "When my troops and I wer called. . ."
The Excellent Prismatic Spray. For when you absolutely, positively must kill a motherfucker. Accept no substitutions. Contact a magician of the later Aeons for details. Some conditions may apply.
-
Imperial Overlord
- Emperor's Hand
- Posts: 11978
- Joined: 2004-08-19 04:30am
- Location: The Tower at Charm
Domina dreamed, her mind wandering through a dark landscape. A road stretched out to the horizon under a dark, starless sky. She saw scattered dead trees extend skeletal branches up to the cold sky. Hethor came running past and then she saw Jolan out of the corner of her eye. She turned to get a better look and he was gone.
A glowing gold figure appeared before her. Light and warmth shown on her. It drifted closer. "Nathan," she said.
"Jivanne," it said. "Tell them Jivanne."
"I will Nathan, I will. What else?"
"Hurry," said Nathan Talstrem. "The future unfolds. A thousand possibilities. Evil shrouds them all. I see the Mark of Chaos on everything. You must change that."
"I will!" she shouted. The golden figure began to fade. "Nathan!" she shouted. "Nathan!" She bolted awake in bed.
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The rogue trader slipped through the defence net of orbital weapon batteries and heavily armed system monitors to take an anchorage position in orbit above Jivanne. A launch departed from its small craft bay and dropped in the planet's atmosphere. Jolan Gix looked out the window in the passenger's cabin.
White fluffy clouds whipped by under the blue sky. Below them was a deep blue ocean and the spires of a great city glittered in the distance. Ahead of him was the Queen of Nightmares and the distant drone of the pilots talking with air traffic control in the thickly accented local dialect of Low Gothic. "Your pilots?" Jolan asked.
"Yes," she said. "How can you tell?"
"Don't talk like the rest of the crew. Locals?"
"Yes. How can-, ahh the vox conversation. Clever. What other tricks do you have?"
"A lot," Jolan drawled.
"Needs a little work to pass as local," she said.
"Practice makes perfect," said Keys. The assassin and the physician were sitting one row back. "Sound right or don't even bother. Sound right and no one notices. Sound wrong and they remember, even more than something foreign."
The towers of the city were clearly visible now. The metropolis was no hive city, but it was huge. The inhabitants must number in the high millions or low tens of millions. "We aren't landing here," said Jolan.
"Very good. No, our landing point is just beyond it." The city passed underneath them. Ahead of them a sprawling palace-fortress ringed with Gothic towers came into view. Dragon mouthed guns protruded from the walls and towers while elaborate domes hid sensor and shield generators. Above the front gate was a massive seal, a black wolf's head above two crossed sword on dark red.
"This is the Imperial Commander's palace," said Gix.
"Yes," said the Queen of Nightmares. The launch was slowing and angling for a landing strip near the palace. "Welcome to the heart of the Gamesman's power. I'll see to it suitable guest quarters are assigned to you. He'll probably want to speak with you in a couple of days."
"I'm actually going to meet the man the Illuminated Masters call master?" he said with a slight note of disbelief in his voice.
"One day this entire segmentum will call him master," she said. "Those who serve him well will have power and rewards beyond measure."
"I guess I had better make a good impression," said Gix with a half smile.
"Don't worry about that," she said. "He has the Eye of Tzeentch. He can pierce any deception, see the truth about anything, discern the most intricate of plots."
"I suppose it would not be a good to be found to be inadequate."
"All flesh fails under the Withering Gaze."
"Yeah," Jolan said. "That's about what I thought."
A glowing gold figure appeared before her. Light and warmth shown on her. It drifted closer. "Nathan," she said.
"Jivanne," it said. "Tell them Jivanne."
"I will Nathan, I will. What else?"
"Hurry," said Nathan Talstrem. "The future unfolds. A thousand possibilities. Evil shrouds them all. I see the Mark of Chaos on everything. You must change that."
"I will!" she shouted. The golden figure began to fade. "Nathan!" she shouted. "Nathan!" She bolted awake in bed.
-----------------------------------------------------------
The rogue trader slipped through the defence net of orbital weapon batteries and heavily armed system monitors to take an anchorage position in orbit above Jivanne. A launch departed from its small craft bay and dropped in the planet's atmosphere. Jolan Gix looked out the window in the passenger's cabin.
White fluffy clouds whipped by under the blue sky. Below them was a deep blue ocean and the spires of a great city glittered in the distance. Ahead of him was the Queen of Nightmares and the distant drone of the pilots talking with air traffic control in the thickly accented local dialect of Low Gothic. "Your pilots?" Jolan asked.
"Yes," she said. "How can you tell?"
"Don't talk like the rest of the crew. Locals?"
"Yes. How can-, ahh the vox conversation. Clever. What other tricks do you have?"
"A lot," Jolan drawled.
"Needs a little work to pass as local," she said.
"Practice makes perfect," said Keys. The assassin and the physician were sitting one row back. "Sound right or don't even bother. Sound right and no one notices. Sound wrong and they remember, even more than something foreign."
The towers of the city were clearly visible now. The metropolis was no hive city, but it was huge. The inhabitants must number in the high millions or low tens of millions. "We aren't landing here," said Jolan.
"Very good. No, our landing point is just beyond it." The city passed underneath them. Ahead of them a sprawling palace-fortress ringed with Gothic towers came into view. Dragon mouthed guns protruded from the walls and towers while elaborate domes hid sensor and shield generators. Above the front gate was a massive seal, a black wolf's head above two crossed sword on dark red.
"This is the Imperial Commander's palace," said Gix.
"Yes," said the Queen of Nightmares. The launch was slowing and angling for a landing strip near the palace. "Welcome to the heart of the Gamesman's power. I'll see to it suitable guest quarters are assigned to you. He'll probably want to speak with you in a couple of days."
"I'm actually going to meet the man the Illuminated Masters call master?" he said with a slight note of disbelief in his voice.
"One day this entire segmentum will call him master," she said. "Those who serve him well will have power and rewards beyond measure."
"I guess I had better make a good impression," said Gix with a half smile.
"Don't worry about that," she said. "He has the Eye of Tzeentch. He can pierce any deception, see the truth about anything, discern the most intricate of plots."
"I suppose it would not be a good to be found to be inadequate."
"All flesh fails under the Withering Gaze."
"Yeah," Jolan said. "That's about what I thought."
The Excellent Prismatic Spray. For when you absolutely, positively must kill a motherfucker. Accept no substitutions. Contact a magician of the later Aeons for details. Some conditions may apply.
