Inspired by the thread here, I'd like to present this Warhammer 40K/Harry Potter crossover. Be aware that there are some differences between the 40K you all know and love, and the one portrayed here. It shouldn't be too much of an issue in this fic though.
Remember, comments, questions, and suggestions are encouraged!
Introduction
Warp escape pods had developed significantly since they were invented. No longer were they the ones of the early days, tiny capsules with minature Gellar Field Generators and rudimentary nav devices. Now, they were the size of assault shuttles, with more powerful generators, guided astronavigation capabilities, and room to hold and sustain two dozen people in relative comfort. In relatively “normal” conditions, the escape pods were very effective at protecting their precious cargoes.
The conditions around the destruction of Gemald’s Iron were anything but “normal”. The patrol cruiser had been attacked by warp entities, which battered down the Gellar Field, although that supposed to be impossible, and infected the ship. Most of the crew were instantly killed as the warp energy coursed through the ship. Unluckier ones had their souls bound to the ship, to be trapped for all eternity. Some lucky ones had been killed by the surviving crew after showing signs of Warp infection. And the luckiest of them all had reached the escape pods, activated them, and fled.
The Inquisitor was very lucky. Either that, or the Emperor was personally watching over today. In either case, it had nearly not been enough. The machine spirit of the pod, a tough, reliable, and good-natured one, had put up a magnificent fight, multi-tasking between navigation, repair, and fending off the warp entities attacking it. The field generators were in the process of failing when all of a sudden, there had been a hideous psychic scream, and the attacks abruptly stopped. In the relative calm, the beaten machine spirit had dumped the pod into real space again, fed a course to the navigation station, and collapsed, exhausted.
Unfortunately for the passengers on the escape pod, the warp scream was never meant to be heard by mortal ears. The surviving naval personnel were killed instantly, blood frothing from their eyes and ears. The Inquisitor, with a mind slightly more experienced with the Warp, had merely been knocked unconscious, saved by mental barriers and protective wards. Nothing on board was conscious when the pod made a gentle landing in a secluded forest by the sea. Outside, however, dark-robed figures had followed the landing and were watching, intrigued.
-----
“Look, a shooting star!”
Eyes of young wizards and witches turned upwards as the meteor streaked across the sky. Young lovers sighed and moved closer, romanticizing, while the astronomy professor, now acting as a chaperone, peered into her telescope and muttered something about budget cuts and faulty equipment. She gave up and gazed into the sky as well, tracking the meteor as it moved, ever so slowly, then faded away.
There was a moment of silence, then a high pitched shriek and the sound of a slap. A young witch stood up and fled from her companion as giggles circulated the tower. The professor couldn’t help but smile. Even in such dark times, the children were so optimistic, and it gave her hope, that maybe this year things would start returning to normal.
40K/Harry Potter Crossover
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The Grim Squeaker
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Looks mice 
.
A comment,.
Also, the chapter's a bit short
.A comment,
This part is just damn ludicrous, Having a malfunction in the Gellar fields is plausible, or something similiar such as combat damage works, but battering through working Gellar fields is a blatant discontinuity. It isn't hard to think of another way to have the ship blow upconditions around the destruction of Gemald’s Iron were anything but “normal”. The patrol cruiser had been attacked by warp entities, which battered down the Gellar Field, although that supposed to be impossible, and infected the ship.
.Also, the chapter's a bit short
Photography
Genius is always allowed some leeway, once the hammer has been pried from its hands and the blood has been cleaned up.
To improve is to change; to be perfect is to change often.
Genius is always allowed some leeway, once the hammer has been pried from its hands and the blood has been cleaned up.
To improve is to change; to be perfect is to change often.
Yes, I agree with Death -- if all else fails, you can use the example provided in Flight of the Eisenstein and have the Gellar fields gradually weaken due to some malfunction to the point where nasties from the Warp can sneak in and possess the crew, causing a mass killing spree (see the movie Event Horizon for further details on this point), which is a somewhat more exciting way of saying "they all died" rather than simply having them drop dead outright, if you take my meaning. 
Otherwise, an excellent start thus far, and the writing itself is solid. Are you perhaps operating under the idea that all "witches and wizards" in the Potter-verse are psykers of some variety, then?
Otherwise, an excellent start thus far, and the writing itself is solid. Are you perhaps operating under the idea that all "witches and wizards" in the Potter-verse are psykers of some variety, then?
Well, my 40K universe is a little different. It's actually the 45th millennium, and some things have changed. Really though, I don't think it's a big deal. It's the only mention of Gellar Fields I predict in the entire story, so I don't think this unexplained discontinuity will keep you up nights.
Wizards and witches =/= psykers. As I understand it, you don't need to be a psyker to practice magic in the 40K 'verse. Still, there will be some psykers.
By the way, I haven't read the Horus Heresy novels. I hear they're decent, but I've also heard that they're not worth reading also. How are they?
Here's the next installment.
Chapter One
The first thing Alyson noticed when she woke up was that her face was stuck to the floor. When she reflexively rolled over, the pain overwhelmed her, and threatened to knock her out again. She stopped moving, and said a prayer to the Emperor and the machine spirit of the escape pod, thanking them both for keeping her alive and relatively undamaged. Still stuck to the floor, Alyson expanded her psychic awareness, ‘listening” to her surroundings, curious as to her current situation.
First, she noted with a twinge of sadness, none of the other people in the escape pod were alive. Their souls were still in the vicinity, waiting for someone to administer the rites of death to their bodies. She would have to make that a top priority. Next, she noticed that the ship had landed, and there were living things outside. This was definitely a good sign. Life outside meant that there was a high chance the escape pod had landed on a habitable planet, and not some blasted trash-heap of a planet. There was even a good chance of rescue within the year, when the Navy received their distress call and started searching. Finally, she noticed that the substance adhering her face to the floor was her own blood. Her passive biomancy told her that she was no longer bleeding, but obviously she had been hurt shortly after the psychic scream.
Realization and questions flooded into Alyson’s mind at the same time. Obviously the shock of the psychic scream had killed the unprotected naval personnel, which explained why she was still alive, albeit injured. But, what had caused it? The escape pod was still intact, and they were obviously out of the Warp, which meant that the attack was not successful, but why wasn’t it? Those same warp entities had killed a cruiser, surely a escape pod was trivial work for them? And, most disturbing, why was the Warp so quiet here? Besides the background rumble of the universe and the comforting presence of the astronomican, she “heard” no significant warp presence anywhere nearby, daemonic or otherwise. The quiet was relieving, though she kept thinking in the back of her mind that she should be alert and paranoid, anticipating an ambush.
Alyson finally decided to not be stuck to the floor any longer. The rest of her body seemed free to move, so she slowly, carefully peeled her cheek off the floor, wincing when the cut tore open. She rolled onto her back, breathing freely now, and opened her eyes to the reassuring sight of Imperial Gray on the ceiling and steady lighting. She stretched out, testing her muscles and joints, and examining her augmentics. The psychic blocker was still functional, though a bit stressed after fending off a near miss from the warp attacker. The psy/tech remote link was functional, though the only thing compatible was the escape pod, which did not provide any useful information. And her augmentic memory was still working, which she quickly examined to fill in the recent gaps her organic memory had left out. There was really nothing useful to be found, but it was relieving to know that she still worked.
Slowly, carefully, Alyson pulled herself upright, bracing herself on the pilot’s chair. She stood up, tested her legs, then sat down in the chair and looked outside. The displays and dials were all blank and turned off, a sign that the machine spirit considered this planet to be safe, and through the windows, she felt that way as well. The forest outside looked almost idyllic, and she couldn’t help but laugh at how stereotypically safe it looked. She recognized several species of trees found on thousands of other Imperial worlds, solid evidence to suggest that the planet had been colonized by the Imperium, and there were humans living on it. Perhaps there was even a human civilization, or even better, and Imperial outpost. She could have fired up the pod’s sensors to check, but she decided to let the spirit rest. They were in no immediate danger right now, and it deserved a break after its recent activities. She said another prayer thanking the machine spirit, then went back to the crew compartment to see how bad it was.
Surprisingly, it wasn’t as bad as she expected. There were no daemons, no bodily inversions, no guts spilled out on the floor, and no blood splattered all over the walls. It just looked like the naval crewmen had slumped over in the crash harnesses and all had nosebleeds. If she didn’t look at their eyes, Alyson could almost convince herself that they were just sleeping awkwardly. As she had stepped into the room, she felt the spirits of the departed crewmen calm, knowing that they would be properly taken care of. To the former crew, Alyson was not an inquisitor, but rather, a shuttle pilot, thrown into the escape pod with the rest of the lucky ones. Still, every person in the Emperor’s service knew what had to be done in situations like this.
After opening up an emergency kit for some incense and an Imperial banner, Alyson performed the Rites of the Dead and quieted their souls. Their part in the battle for the Imperium was over, and their deeds would be recorded if they were judged worthy. For Alyson, on the other hand, she would have to carry on the Emperor’s work, in whatever way she could on this planet, until rescue came. If there were humans on the planet, then there was bound to be chaos influence, or even in rare cases, xeno sympathizers. On the other hand, if she found herself in enemy territory, Alyson would have to be sneaky, doing what she could to disrupt their foundations, and wait for rescue, if it came.
With the spiritual duties finished, Alyson turned to more practical matters. The escape pod’s emergency supplies were designed to keep twelve people alive for a month, and give them the capability to find and hunt their own food. With only one-twelfth the drain on supplies, she could conceivably last an entire year with onboard supplies. Of course, that was if they were all intact, and would be intact when she needed them. Most likely she was going to have to forage, and if there was a significant population on the planet, that meant contact with the locals. Ideally of course, she had landed on an Imperial outpost, in which case she would make contact with the local authorities and get an astropathic message out. If she wasn’t so lucky, then she could deal with anything from feudal to feral humans just fine, so long as there wasn’t a significant Chaos presence on the planet. She doubted that though, Chaos-held planets were much louder in warp, and this place was, again, spookily peaceful.
In any case, she would need to secure the surrounding area and run an auspex sweep before deciding what to do. Clearing away the bodies as best she could, Alyson started opening up supply crates and taking inventory.
Wizards and witches =/= psykers. As I understand it, you don't need to be a psyker to practice magic in the 40K 'verse. Still, there will be some psykers.
By the way, I haven't read the Horus Heresy novels. I hear they're decent, but I've also heard that they're not worth reading also. How are they?
Here's the next installment.
Chapter One
The first thing Alyson noticed when she woke up was that her face was stuck to the floor. When she reflexively rolled over, the pain overwhelmed her, and threatened to knock her out again. She stopped moving, and said a prayer to the Emperor and the machine spirit of the escape pod, thanking them both for keeping her alive and relatively undamaged. Still stuck to the floor, Alyson expanded her psychic awareness, ‘listening” to her surroundings, curious as to her current situation.
First, she noted with a twinge of sadness, none of the other people in the escape pod were alive. Their souls were still in the vicinity, waiting for someone to administer the rites of death to their bodies. She would have to make that a top priority. Next, she noticed that the ship had landed, and there were living things outside. This was definitely a good sign. Life outside meant that there was a high chance the escape pod had landed on a habitable planet, and not some blasted trash-heap of a planet. There was even a good chance of rescue within the year, when the Navy received their distress call and started searching. Finally, she noticed that the substance adhering her face to the floor was her own blood. Her passive biomancy told her that she was no longer bleeding, but obviously she had been hurt shortly after the psychic scream.
Realization and questions flooded into Alyson’s mind at the same time. Obviously the shock of the psychic scream had killed the unprotected naval personnel, which explained why she was still alive, albeit injured. But, what had caused it? The escape pod was still intact, and they were obviously out of the Warp, which meant that the attack was not successful, but why wasn’t it? Those same warp entities had killed a cruiser, surely a escape pod was trivial work for them? And, most disturbing, why was the Warp so quiet here? Besides the background rumble of the universe and the comforting presence of the astronomican, she “heard” no significant warp presence anywhere nearby, daemonic or otherwise. The quiet was relieving, though she kept thinking in the back of her mind that she should be alert and paranoid, anticipating an ambush.
Alyson finally decided to not be stuck to the floor any longer. The rest of her body seemed free to move, so she slowly, carefully peeled her cheek off the floor, wincing when the cut tore open. She rolled onto her back, breathing freely now, and opened her eyes to the reassuring sight of Imperial Gray on the ceiling and steady lighting. She stretched out, testing her muscles and joints, and examining her augmentics. The psychic blocker was still functional, though a bit stressed after fending off a near miss from the warp attacker. The psy/tech remote link was functional, though the only thing compatible was the escape pod, which did not provide any useful information. And her augmentic memory was still working, which she quickly examined to fill in the recent gaps her organic memory had left out. There was really nothing useful to be found, but it was relieving to know that she still worked.
Slowly, carefully, Alyson pulled herself upright, bracing herself on the pilot’s chair. She stood up, tested her legs, then sat down in the chair and looked outside. The displays and dials were all blank and turned off, a sign that the machine spirit considered this planet to be safe, and through the windows, she felt that way as well. The forest outside looked almost idyllic, and she couldn’t help but laugh at how stereotypically safe it looked. She recognized several species of trees found on thousands of other Imperial worlds, solid evidence to suggest that the planet had been colonized by the Imperium, and there were humans living on it. Perhaps there was even a human civilization, or even better, and Imperial outpost. She could have fired up the pod’s sensors to check, but she decided to let the spirit rest. They were in no immediate danger right now, and it deserved a break after its recent activities. She said another prayer thanking the machine spirit, then went back to the crew compartment to see how bad it was.
Surprisingly, it wasn’t as bad as she expected. There were no daemons, no bodily inversions, no guts spilled out on the floor, and no blood splattered all over the walls. It just looked like the naval crewmen had slumped over in the crash harnesses and all had nosebleeds. If she didn’t look at their eyes, Alyson could almost convince herself that they were just sleeping awkwardly. As she had stepped into the room, she felt the spirits of the departed crewmen calm, knowing that they would be properly taken care of. To the former crew, Alyson was not an inquisitor, but rather, a shuttle pilot, thrown into the escape pod with the rest of the lucky ones. Still, every person in the Emperor’s service knew what had to be done in situations like this.
After opening up an emergency kit for some incense and an Imperial banner, Alyson performed the Rites of the Dead and quieted their souls. Their part in the battle for the Imperium was over, and their deeds would be recorded if they were judged worthy. For Alyson, on the other hand, she would have to carry on the Emperor’s work, in whatever way she could on this planet, until rescue came. If there were humans on the planet, then there was bound to be chaos influence, or even in rare cases, xeno sympathizers. On the other hand, if she found herself in enemy territory, Alyson would have to be sneaky, doing what she could to disrupt their foundations, and wait for rescue, if it came.
With the spiritual duties finished, Alyson turned to more practical matters. The escape pod’s emergency supplies were designed to keep twelve people alive for a month, and give them the capability to find and hunt their own food. With only one-twelfth the drain on supplies, she could conceivably last an entire year with onboard supplies. Of course, that was if they were all intact, and would be intact when she needed them. Most likely she was going to have to forage, and if there was a significant population on the planet, that meant contact with the locals. Ideally of course, she had landed on an Imperial outpost, in which case she would make contact with the local authorities and get an astropathic message out. If she wasn’t so lucky, then she could deal with anything from feudal to feral humans just fine, so long as there wasn’t a significant Chaos presence on the planet. She doubted that though, Chaos-held planets were much louder in warp, and this place was, again, spookily peaceful.
In any case, she would need to secure the surrounding area and run an auspex sweep before deciding what to do. Clearing away the bodies as best she could, Alyson started opening up supply crates and taking inventory.
Another solid chapter, and well done at that. Ah yes, I do so enjoy augmetics. You can never have too many of those, I think; and, as we all know, steel is stronger than flesh. Look! This chapter proves it! In any case, I think it's a (relative) blessing that the Potter-verse got stuck with Alyson, an inquisitor who seems more cautious and thoughtful than the norm, for I daresay a Monodominant fanatic with an axe to grind wouldn't be conducive towards the continued lifespans of the main characters.
Sadly, I couldn't really clarify the matter of mage vs. psyker, though I was under the impression that they were simply two words to describe the same basic condition. Despite my Eldar favoritism, I possess little enough knowledge on the subject to know that I'll wait for someone more knowledgeable, like Imperial Overlord or Necronlord, to weigh in.
As for the Horus Heresy novels, I've only read Flight of the Eisenstein, and that had more to do with the fact that it was a gift than any other factor. The writing was good, and I liked the depiction of the main character and the subject material (the beginning of the Heresy). Overall, I would most certainly rank it in the lower tier of "good/medicore 40k novels", though it doesn't quite compare with Abnett's work. In other words, I merely found it good, not excellent.
Sadly, I couldn't really clarify the matter of mage vs. psyker, though I was under the impression that they were simply two words to describe the same basic condition. Despite my Eldar favoritism, I possess little enough knowledge on the subject to know that I'll wait for someone more knowledgeable, like Imperial Overlord or Necronlord, to weigh in.
As for the Horus Heresy novels, I've only read Flight of the Eisenstein, and that had more to do with the fact that it was a gift than any other factor. The writing was good, and I liked the depiction of the main character and the subject material (the beginning of the Heresy). Overall, I would most certainly rank it in the lower tier of "good/medicore 40k novels", though it doesn't quite compare with Abnett's work. In other words, I merely found it good, not excellent.
Last edited by Dominus on 2007-06-03 03:43am, edited 1 time in total.
...and adamantium is stronger than steel!
I've actually been developing the Inquisitor Alyson character for a long time now. mostly during class, when I really have nothing better to do. I like augmentics too, and I can say that she's been very heavily augmenticised, though mostly in the "rebuilding" sense more than the "woohoo eight limbs!" manner. Still, when you get total-body reconstructive surgery, sponsored by the Inquisition, and from a renowned Martian bio-magos, you're bound to get some cool stuff. Too bad a lot of it is useless here...
I just had the hilarious thought of, say Inquisitor Heldane in full-on horseface mode crash-landing here instead. He'd probably take on the entire magical community all by himself. And win.
I must admit, Inquisitor Jolan Gix was a big influence in Alyson's development, along with Eisenhorn (duh) and Maladar. I have to thank Imperial Overlord for doing such a great job with his stories.
Fun Fact! Alyson is a native Cadian, and fought in a Whiteshield regiment during the Sixteenth Black Crusade.
I've actually been developing the Inquisitor Alyson character for a long time now. mostly during class, when I really have nothing better to do. I like augmentics too, and I can say that she's been very heavily augmenticised, though mostly in the "rebuilding" sense more than the "woohoo eight limbs!" manner. Still, when you get total-body reconstructive surgery, sponsored by the Inquisition, and from a renowned Martian bio-magos, you're bound to get some cool stuff. Too bad a lot of it is useless here...
I just had the hilarious thought of, say Inquisitor Heldane in full-on horseface mode crash-landing here instead. He'd probably take on the entire magical community all by himself. And win.
I must admit, Inquisitor Jolan Gix was a big influence in Alyson's development, along with Eisenhorn (duh) and Maladar. I have to thank Imperial Overlord for doing such a great job with his stories.
Fun Fact! Alyson is a native Cadian, and fought in a Whiteshield regiment during the Sixteenth Black Crusade.
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The Grim Squeaker
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Or MeDominus wrote:
Sadly, I couldn't really clarify the matter of mage vs. psyker, though I was under the impression that they were simply two words to describe the same basic condition. Despite my Eldar favoritism, I possess little enough knowledge on the subject to know that I'll wait for someone more knowledgeable, like Imperial Overlord or Necronlord, to weigh in.
.Psyker powers and magic are different things in 40k. (Though Both interact about equally with warp entities, but I'm unsure how an "Untouchable" would affect a Sorceror). Magnus proved that quite well when the Emperor ended up pissed at him for his magical experimentation (One of the reasons he distrusted him so much).
Photography
Genius is always allowed some leeway, once the hammer has been pried from its hands and the blood has been cleaned up.
To improve is to change; to be perfect is to change often.
Genius is always allowed some leeway, once the hammer has been pried from its hands and the blood has been cleaned up.
To improve is to change; to be perfect is to change often.
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pieman3141
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We need more HP/40K crossovers. The other two that I read didn't quite deliver. This does, so far. Keep it up!
We have no real idea on what she believes in. She could be somewhat tolerant, or she could be completely intolerant of magic and kill everyone. And weaponry... no clue (You say this is the future of 40K, so some new stuff might've been developed).
We have no real idea on what she believes in. She could be somewhat tolerant, or she could be completely intolerant of magic and kill everyone. And weaponry... no clue (You say this is the future of 40K, so some new stuff might've been developed).
He'd certainly have a pretty easy time of it -- as I recall, Heldane was already a very powerful combat psyker even when Eisenhorn first encountered him, and had advanced to the point where he was remotely controlling psy-shielded individuals from afar in the first Gaunt's Ghosts novel.Hawkwings wrote:I just had the hilarious thought of, say Inquisitor Heldane in full-on horseface mode crash-landing here instead. He'd probably take on the entire magical community all by himself. And win.
Still, the idea of Heldane facing off against Voldemort... well, it brings a rather ridiculous smile to my face. Prophecy or not, I daresay old Tom Riddle would be no match for an Imperial-trained combat psyker (and all-around maniacal bastard) of Heldane's caliber.
Indeed, I noticed a few similarities right off the bat -- but no worries; I'm very much a fan of Overlord's model of the 'ideal' inquisitorial character.I must admit, Inquisitor Jolan Gix was a big influence in Alyson's development, along with Eisenhorn (duh) and Maladar. I have to thank Imperial Overlord for doing such a great job with his stories.
Fun Fact! Alyson is a native Cadian, and fought in a Whiteshield regiment during the Sixteenth Black Crusade.
Only the sixteenth? Abaddon is certainly getting lazy if he only launched three Black Crusades between the years of 40,999 and 44,999. Methinks that the whipping boy of Chaos needs a few good lashings from Slaanesh.
Sorry about that, Death. In any case, that certainly does seem to explain a few things, such as how ammunition that is blessed by priests of the Ecclesiarchy (who presumably are not psykers themselves) is much more effective against daemons and their ilk (i.e. psycannon rounds).DEATH wrote: Or Me
Psyker powers and magic are different things in 40k. (Though Both interact about equally with warp entities, but I'm unsure how an "Untouchable" would affect a Sorceror). Magnus proved that quite well when the Emperor ended up pissed at him for his magical experimentation (One of the reasons he distrusted him so much).
Well, let's just say that Chaos was a bit... scattered... after the Emperor [CENSORED BY THE HOLY INQUISITION], and as a result, they weren't going to be launching any sort of organized Black Crusade until they recovered.
Chapter 2
Wizarding Britain was in need of some good news after the disastrous events a few weeks before. Or at least a distraction. Nobody wanted to think about the murder of Dumbledore, and the implications of that event. People were still content to ignore the troubles, and complain about the Ministry “Not doing its job!” by failing to end the threat. What that meant was that the unusual meteor sighted a few days ago was the subject of a lot more attention than it would have otherwise received. The meteorite was projected to have landed somewhere on British soil, and several people had started what could best be described as reality game shows, challenging wizards and witches to find the strange rock, avoiding Muggles, game show hunt-squads, and keeping ahead of other competitors, to bringing the meteorite back, intact. The prize was a hefty sack of galleons and a trans-atmospheric flight in a Ministry of Magic special transport, a heavily charmed Muggle aircraft. In just a few short days, the event had been hyped up beyond all reasonable measures, a sign that the Ministry was taking full advantage of this commotion to gloss over the current troubles.
Of course, the search was a lot harder than a simple measuring charm, some calculations, and an overland broom flight. First of all, the game show managers had no idea where the meteorite was, but that didn’t stop them from sending out their own men to tail the competitors, and take them out, in the spirit of challenge of course. Next, there were the Muggle scientists who had an interest in this sort of thing. They would be searching as well, and although their crude mechanical devices were inferior to magical sensors, they proved surprisingly adept at locating such objects. Finally of course, there was the fact that the escape pod had entered the atmosphere on a ballistic trajectory, but slowed down and come to a gentle landing with no impact crater, far from where it would have landed had it been unguided. So although many dozens of wizards and witches were out looking, some of them treasure-hunters of no small renown, the factors working against them gave Alyson a bit of time to orient herself.
Alyson finished checking the supply crates, and put them back into their recesses. She had retrieved a standard-issue Guard backpack and several useful tools, and was preparing to load up for a quick excursion to scout out the area. Although she didn’t plan on being gone for more than half a day, the Emperor blessed those that prepared for the worst. Besides enough ration packs to survive for three days, trinkets to trade to natives, and a military-grade auspex, Alyson also brought a formidable arsenal. Although she did not have access to many of her own weapons, which had been lost along with the ship, the weapons on hand were more than enough to fend off ferals indefinitely, and keep her alive if dealing with xenos or Chaos. First and foremost was the humble standard-issue Guard lasgun. Nothing fancy, but it was utterly reliable, quiet, accurate, easy to handle, packed enough firepower to deal with unarmored foes, and had almost unlimited ammunition. If it was good enough for billions of Guardsmen on millions of worlds, it was good enough for this planet.
Still, there was a chance that she might deal with tougher hostiles who would laugh at lasfire. Orks were the most likely Xeno she would encounter, and although enough shots with a lasgun would kill one, they tended to travel in packs. Kroot were also common, and so were a dozen other xeno species that would take more than a lasgun to kill quickly. Alyson would have preferred a Sororitas bolter or a Commissariat bolt pistol, but neither was available. One of the crewmen carried a naval pistol firing fat man stopper rounds, but unfortunately it was designed to kill humans, and not tougher xenos. She would have to use her own sidearm, which came with disadvantages of its own.
Alyson’s inferno pistol was one of the sacred designs recovered from the STC Library discovery. Genuine Golden Age weapons and the capability to produce them had greatly bolstered Imperial morale, and they had been churned out as quickly as could be done. Because of the production capability turned over to bigger, more impressive projects, weapons like hers were unusual, though not unheard-of. The STC inferno pistol was a blocky, functional looking thing, scarcely larger than a bolt pistol, and not one to inspire much confidence or fear. When it was fired though, people quickly changed their opinions. Alyson had four full-power shots, capable of slagging Space Marine ceramite armor. Nothing she could conceivably face on the planet would stand up to firepower like that. There were only two times in her career she had ever used full-power shots where she didn’t consider the weapon overkill. Still, the capability to wield such massive destruction was reassuring in this unknown situation.
There was one final thing. Searching around on the floor where she had been laying, Alyson found her hair clips, apparently knocked out when she had fallen. She pulled her hair back, clipped one side with a golden aquila, and the other with a similarly golden terran butterfly. Now she was ready to go.
Alyson stepped into the airlock, weapons stowed and wielding an auspex. The outer door opened, and she stepped outside onto the soft and springy ground. The fresh, piney air and the sun low in the sky distracted her for a moment, and Alyson enjoyed another dangerous moment of relaxation before setting off towards the water.
The dark-hooded figures approached the escape pod. They had never seen anything like it before. One of them cautiously approached and touched it, before quickly drawing his hand back, like he had been caught doing something he shouldn’t have been doing. They grew more bold, circling around the craft, peering into its reflective windows, trying to make out what was inside. Finally, the leader pulled out a wand, mumbled something indistinct, and popped out of sight. He appeared again, a few seconds later, grinning and holding up a cloth banner depicting a strange two-headed eagle and some unintelligible text. The group scurried away, to examine their prize.
Chapter 2
Wizarding Britain was in need of some good news after the disastrous events a few weeks before. Or at least a distraction. Nobody wanted to think about the murder of Dumbledore, and the implications of that event. People were still content to ignore the troubles, and complain about the Ministry “Not doing its job!” by failing to end the threat. What that meant was that the unusual meteor sighted a few days ago was the subject of a lot more attention than it would have otherwise received. The meteorite was projected to have landed somewhere on British soil, and several people had started what could best be described as reality game shows, challenging wizards and witches to find the strange rock, avoiding Muggles, game show hunt-squads, and keeping ahead of other competitors, to bringing the meteorite back, intact. The prize was a hefty sack of galleons and a trans-atmospheric flight in a Ministry of Magic special transport, a heavily charmed Muggle aircraft. In just a few short days, the event had been hyped up beyond all reasonable measures, a sign that the Ministry was taking full advantage of this commotion to gloss over the current troubles.
Of course, the search was a lot harder than a simple measuring charm, some calculations, and an overland broom flight. First of all, the game show managers had no idea where the meteorite was, but that didn’t stop them from sending out their own men to tail the competitors, and take them out, in the spirit of challenge of course. Next, there were the Muggle scientists who had an interest in this sort of thing. They would be searching as well, and although their crude mechanical devices were inferior to magical sensors, they proved surprisingly adept at locating such objects. Finally of course, there was the fact that the escape pod had entered the atmosphere on a ballistic trajectory, but slowed down and come to a gentle landing with no impact crater, far from where it would have landed had it been unguided. So although many dozens of wizards and witches were out looking, some of them treasure-hunters of no small renown, the factors working against them gave Alyson a bit of time to orient herself.
Alyson finished checking the supply crates, and put them back into their recesses. She had retrieved a standard-issue Guard backpack and several useful tools, and was preparing to load up for a quick excursion to scout out the area. Although she didn’t plan on being gone for more than half a day, the Emperor blessed those that prepared for the worst. Besides enough ration packs to survive for three days, trinkets to trade to natives, and a military-grade auspex, Alyson also brought a formidable arsenal. Although she did not have access to many of her own weapons, which had been lost along with the ship, the weapons on hand were more than enough to fend off ferals indefinitely, and keep her alive if dealing with xenos or Chaos. First and foremost was the humble standard-issue Guard lasgun. Nothing fancy, but it was utterly reliable, quiet, accurate, easy to handle, packed enough firepower to deal with unarmored foes, and had almost unlimited ammunition. If it was good enough for billions of Guardsmen on millions of worlds, it was good enough for this planet.
Still, there was a chance that she might deal with tougher hostiles who would laugh at lasfire. Orks were the most likely Xeno she would encounter, and although enough shots with a lasgun would kill one, they tended to travel in packs. Kroot were also common, and so were a dozen other xeno species that would take more than a lasgun to kill quickly. Alyson would have preferred a Sororitas bolter or a Commissariat bolt pistol, but neither was available. One of the crewmen carried a naval pistol firing fat man stopper rounds, but unfortunately it was designed to kill humans, and not tougher xenos. She would have to use her own sidearm, which came with disadvantages of its own.
Alyson’s inferno pistol was one of the sacred designs recovered from the STC Library discovery. Genuine Golden Age weapons and the capability to produce them had greatly bolstered Imperial morale, and they had been churned out as quickly as could be done. Because of the production capability turned over to bigger, more impressive projects, weapons like hers were unusual, though not unheard-of. The STC inferno pistol was a blocky, functional looking thing, scarcely larger than a bolt pistol, and not one to inspire much confidence or fear. When it was fired though, people quickly changed their opinions. Alyson had four full-power shots, capable of slagging Space Marine ceramite armor. Nothing she could conceivably face on the planet would stand up to firepower like that. There were only two times in her career she had ever used full-power shots where she didn’t consider the weapon overkill. Still, the capability to wield such massive destruction was reassuring in this unknown situation.
There was one final thing. Searching around on the floor where she had been laying, Alyson found her hair clips, apparently knocked out when she had fallen. She pulled her hair back, clipped one side with a golden aquila, and the other with a similarly golden terran butterfly. Now she was ready to go.
Alyson stepped into the airlock, weapons stowed and wielding an auspex. The outer door opened, and she stepped outside onto the soft and springy ground. The fresh, piney air and the sun low in the sky distracted her for a moment, and Alyson enjoyed another dangerous moment of relaxation before setting off towards the water.
The dark-hooded figures approached the escape pod. They had never seen anything like it before. One of them cautiously approached and touched it, before quickly drawing his hand back, like he had been caught doing something he shouldn’t have been doing. They grew more bold, circling around the craft, peering into its reflective windows, trying to make out what was inside. Finally, the leader pulled out a wand, mumbled something indistinct, and popped out of sight. He appeared again, a few seconds later, grinning and holding up a cloth banner depicting a strange two-headed eagle and some unintelligible text. The group scurried away, to examine their prize.
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The Grim Squeaker
- Emperor's Hand
- Posts: 10315
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Ooh, Death-eaters, the plot thickens 
.
(As of last Thursday ). Heck I wouldn't ask me about the subject.
No, I'm afraid that's due to the whole Faith=Power thing, rather like how the Emperor gets a power boost from worship or a less effective of the Waaagh "Reg goes faster" effect (Though the latter example is due to the Ork's latent "psychic"/Waaagh field to be precise)..
Another example would be the Machine spirit's capable of possesing a Land-Raider (For example) or protecting a Titan's insides.
.
Don't be, I'm not an expert in it by any measure, merely a man with a few more books than youDominus wrote: Sorry about that, Death.
(As of last Thursday ). Heck I wouldn't ask me about the subject.
.In any case, that certainly does seem to explain a few things, such as how ammunition that is blessed by priests of the Ecclesiarchy (who presumably are not psykers themselves) is much more effective against daemons and their ilk (i.e. psycannon rounds)
No, I'm afraid that's due to the whole Faith=Power thing, rather like how the Emperor gets a power boost from worship or a less effective of the Waaagh "Reg goes faster" effect (Though the latter example is due to the Ork's latent "psychic"/Waaagh field to be precise)..
Another example would be the Machine spirit's capable of possesing a Land-Raider (For example) or protecting a Titan's insides.
Photography
Genius is always allowed some leeway, once the hammer has been pried from its hands and the blood has been cleaned up.
To improve is to change; to be perfect is to change often.
Genius is always allowed some leeway, once the hammer has been pried from its hands and the blood has been cleaned up.
To improve is to change; to be perfect is to change often.
Yeah, I was never really sure about the faith and anti-daemon effectiveness thing. I realized that it might be Emperor-magic, with the Emperor doing stuff to the blessed weapons to make them more effective. Even though he doesn't like magic, I doubt he'd like to see humanity get screwed over by not giving them anti-daemon weapons. Sorta like the Emperor giving people clues of what to do through the Tarot.
Whatever. I'd just use the weapons, not worry about how they work!
Fun Fact! Alyson is effectively immune to daemonic possession, due to the fact that she is technically already possessed...
Whatever. I'd just use the weapons, not worry about how they work!
Fun Fact! Alyson is effectively immune to daemonic possession, due to the fact that she is technically already possessed...
Apologies for the delay. Nice work on the chapter, though I don't think it's such a good thing for the Death Eaters to have been the first ones to stumble across the lifeboat. When push comes to shove, I imagine that Alyson could draw a lasgun and fire faster than it would take them to whip out their wands and cast a shielding charm or whisper "Avada Kedavra".
I feel as though I've overlooked something vital here, but is Alyson a saint of the Emperor, or something else entirely? Bah, curse you and your tantalizing clues!
Erm... what?Fun Fact! Alyson is effectively immune to daemonic possession, due to the fact that she is technically already possessed...
I feel as though I've overlooked something vital here, but is Alyson a saint of the Emperor, or something else entirely? Bah, curse you and your tantalizing clues!
Saint? Excuse me while I LMAO. Alyson is a filthy, dirty heretic, xeno sympathizer, and renegade. Though of course, there are many of those in the Inquisition. And many of the greatest inquisitors have also been the greatest traitors...
(I know you guys just love tantalizing clues )
Anyways, thanks for the patronage, you guys. Comments are a huge motivation for writing more. I hope you enjoy this next chapter.
Chapter 3
Alyson couldn’t help it. There was something about the place that made her just want to smile, lay down, and take a nap. It was getting stronger too, as if she was nearing the source of whatever it was. While the majority of her mind was practically screaming at her body to relax, there was a small, rough, and blackened bastion of cynicism and doubt, the part of her mind implanted into her psyche by the Inquisition, and long years of fieldwork. It wasn’t easy to listen to this part of her mind, even though she knew it to be right. It was so easy, so easy to just stop thinking and accept. Accept the fact that this place felt good, safe, and that she should lower her guard and relax.
Simultaneously, Alyson was analyzing this strange phenomenon, and feverishly working to provide some sort of answer so that the rest of he mind would also be alert. She had never felt anything like this peaceful feeling before, but she had been driven nearly to bloodlust by a similar sort of thing in a chaos sanctuary. However, she was only an interrogator then, and had the power of her mentor to protect her. Also, she had recognized the foul buzzing of Chaos in the warp there, which was completely lacking here. The rest of her mind took this as a reason, an excuse, to let her guard down. But if trees were being burned to the ground with no smoke, did that mean there was no forest fire? It was the sort of thing that her mentor would have said, and Alyson knew that such thoughts always made her stop and reconsider what was going on at the moment. Not so in this case. The dreamy, peaceful feeling continued, with no sign of any interruption. That sealed it for her black, cynical mind. There was something wrong, and she was going to stop now and reconsider.
The neurons in her brain sent electrical impulses flying along nerves and synthnerve bundles to her leg muscles, but they apparently didn’t reach their destination, because Alyson kept walking. She tried again, but again, no response. Beginning to really suspect something bad now, Alyson bit down on her lip, hard. The pain shot through her body, burning her neutral pathways clean and triggering a burst of adrenaline, as well as priming her combat drug glands. She stopped, nearly tripped, and steadied herself, tense and suddenly wary. Alyson checked her auspex for the first time in nearly ten minutes, a reckless and foolish thing to forget. Thankfully, it didn’t pick up anything. Alyson would have to think of some suitable self-punishment later. For now, she had to get back to the pod to clear her mind and examine this attack, for there was no doubt that this was some sort of strange psychic attack, or more likely, a defense.
After marking her current location on her auspex map, Alyson proceeded at an easy jog back to her craft. Her mind was now fully alert, checking all around her for threats both physical and psychic. As she entered range of the psytech remote link, she sent a query to the escape pod systems, a habit she developed after receiving the implant. She was rudely surprised when, instead of the “all clear nothing to report” answer, she received a maximum-threat level intruder alert, as well as a patch to the internal cameras. Alyson stopped, glanced around her again, then approved the feed and watched the images sent to her brain.
Inside the pod were several robed figures, going around and examining everything inside. They had already taken some things, and done something to the bodies that she couldn’t quite make out. Strangely, the pod computer noted no opening of the hatch, which meant that they must have somehow spoofed the computer, or, impossibly, they had somehow teleported into the craft. Either was trouble, signifying a high-tech enemy that knew what it was doing. But that didn’t fit the camera feed information she was receiving. They were looking at the standard-issue Imperial equipment with curiosity, disdain almost. They couldn’t figure out what the lamp-pack was, and when one of them accidentally triggered it, he dropped it in surprise and tried to smash it with his foot in panic. Of course, Imperial Guard equipment was much tougher than that, and the lamp-pack remained on. Still, it provided a curious picture to Alyson, who didn’t quite know what to make of these strange visitors, or looters.
She decided that she would make contact with these people. They were probably human, judging from the number of limbs, number of fingers, the robes, and the correctly-proportioned bodies. They might be able to tell her about the place, and she could find some sort of village or city where she would be able to expand her capabilities on this planet. Cautiously, Alyson walked the rest of the way back and took a deep breath before stepping out of the tree cover and making herself visible to the robed figures outside.
-----
The Death-Eater on watch was jumpy, nervous, and wired. Alertness charms made it impossible to not notice things, and he noticed quite a lot. For example, he noticed the animals in the forest around him, the individual bird-songs, and the dull glinting of the strange metal thing’s glass windows. Most of all though, he noticed a dull, horrifying feeling coming from the metal construct, the likes of nothing he had ever felt before. The thing, whatever it was, was undeniably evil, and while he knew that he and the rest of his group were also evil, it was nothing in comparison to the subtle horror that emanated from the metal thing. He would be glad to get out of here as fast as he could.
So when the person emerged from the woods, definitely not dressed in a Death-Eater robe, he panicked. Remembering to cry out “Intruder!” he fired off a curse at the newcomer. The sickly greenish light of the spell lit up the treeline, and he could see, almost in slow motion, as the person, in one fluid motion, dumped their pack, dove off to the side, and pulled out a long metal object. Amazed, but not senseless, he fired off another spell, which again missed the person, but impacted the metal thing in the person’s hands and caused the person to drop it quickly. Expecting the person to be shocked into submission by the obvious power of his curses, the Death-Eater was instead amazed and horrified when the person swiftly drew out a long, gleaming blade, bellowed what was unmistakably a battle-cry, and charged.
(I know you guys just love tantalizing clues
)Anyways, thanks for the patronage, you guys. Comments are a huge motivation for writing more. I hope you enjoy this next chapter.
Chapter 3
Alyson couldn’t help it. There was something about the place that made her just want to smile, lay down, and take a nap. It was getting stronger too, as if she was nearing the source of whatever it was. While the majority of her mind was practically screaming at her body to relax, there was a small, rough, and blackened bastion of cynicism and doubt, the part of her mind implanted into her psyche by the Inquisition, and long years of fieldwork. It wasn’t easy to listen to this part of her mind, even though she knew it to be right. It was so easy, so easy to just stop thinking and accept. Accept the fact that this place felt good, safe, and that she should lower her guard and relax.
Simultaneously, Alyson was analyzing this strange phenomenon, and feverishly working to provide some sort of answer so that the rest of he mind would also be alert. She had never felt anything like this peaceful feeling before, but she had been driven nearly to bloodlust by a similar sort of thing in a chaos sanctuary. However, she was only an interrogator then, and had the power of her mentor to protect her. Also, she had recognized the foul buzzing of Chaos in the warp there, which was completely lacking here. The rest of her mind took this as a reason, an excuse, to let her guard down. But if trees were being burned to the ground with no smoke, did that mean there was no forest fire? It was the sort of thing that her mentor would have said, and Alyson knew that such thoughts always made her stop and reconsider what was going on at the moment. Not so in this case. The dreamy, peaceful feeling continued, with no sign of any interruption. That sealed it for her black, cynical mind. There was something wrong, and she was going to stop now and reconsider.
The neurons in her brain sent electrical impulses flying along nerves and synthnerve bundles to her leg muscles, but they apparently didn’t reach their destination, because Alyson kept walking. She tried again, but again, no response. Beginning to really suspect something bad now, Alyson bit down on her lip, hard. The pain shot through her body, burning her neutral pathways clean and triggering a burst of adrenaline, as well as priming her combat drug glands. She stopped, nearly tripped, and steadied herself, tense and suddenly wary. Alyson checked her auspex for the first time in nearly ten minutes, a reckless and foolish thing to forget. Thankfully, it didn’t pick up anything. Alyson would have to think of some suitable self-punishment later. For now, she had to get back to the pod to clear her mind and examine this attack, for there was no doubt that this was some sort of strange psychic attack, or more likely, a defense.
After marking her current location on her auspex map, Alyson proceeded at an easy jog back to her craft. Her mind was now fully alert, checking all around her for threats both physical and psychic. As she entered range of the psytech remote link, she sent a query to the escape pod systems, a habit she developed after receiving the implant. She was rudely surprised when, instead of the “all clear nothing to report” answer, she received a maximum-threat level intruder alert, as well as a patch to the internal cameras. Alyson stopped, glanced around her again, then approved the feed and watched the images sent to her brain.
Inside the pod were several robed figures, going around and examining everything inside. They had already taken some things, and done something to the bodies that she couldn’t quite make out. Strangely, the pod computer noted no opening of the hatch, which meant that they must have somehow spoofed the computer, or, impossibly, they had somehow teleported into the craft. Either was trouble, signifying a high-tech enemy that knew what it was doing. But that didn’t fit the camera feed information she was receiving. They were looking at the standard-issue Imperial equipment with curiosity, disdain almost. They couldn’t figure out what the lamp-pack was, and when one of them accidentally triggered it, he dropped it in surprise and tried to smash it with his foot in panic. Of course, Imperial Guard equipment was much tougher than that, and the lamp-pack remained on. Still, it provided a curious picture to Alyson, who didn’t quite know what to make of these strange visitors, or looters.
She decided that she would make contact with these people. They were probably human, judging from the number of limbs, number of fingers, the robes, and the correctly-proportioned bodies. They might be able to tell her about the place, and she could find some sort of village or city where she would be able to expand her capabilities on this planet. Cautiously, Alyson walked the rest of the way back and took a deep breath before stepping out of the tree cover and making herself visible to the robed figures outside.
-----
The Death-Eater on watch was jumpy, nervous, and wired. Alertness charms made it impossible to not notice things, and he noticed quite a lot. For example, he noticed the animals in the forest around him, the individual bird-songs, and the dull glinting of the strange metal thing’s glass windows. Most of all though, he noticed a dull, horrifying feeling coming from the metal construct, the likes of nothing he had ever felt before. The thing, whatever it was, was undeniably evil, and while he knew that he and the rest of his group were also evil, it was nothing in comparison to the subtle horror that emanated from the metal thing. He would be glad to get out of here as fast as he could.
So when the person emerged from the woods, definitely not dressed in a Death-Eater robe, he panicked. Remembering to cry out “Intruder!” he fired off a curse at the newcomer. The sickly greenish light of the spell lit up the treeline, and he could see, almost in slow motion, as the person, in one fluid motion, dumped their pack, dove off to the side, and pulled out a long metal object. Amazed, but not senseless, he fired off another spell, which again missed the person, but impacted the metal thing in the person’s hands and caused the person to drop it quickly. Expecting the person to be shocked into submission by the obvious power of his curses, the Death-Eater was instead amazed and horrified when the person swiftly drew out a long, gleaming blade, bellowed what was unmistakably a battle-cry, and charged.
Ah, I seem to be hitting all the wrong notes this week, insofar as this story is concerned. I can be as dense as a brick sometimes...
In any case, I was somewhat disappointed with Alyson's performance in this chapter -- but maybe that's just the side of me that wants to prove to rabid HP wankers everywhere that magic < modern firearms and tactics in most situations. Well, to be perfectly honest, if I was faced with a masked man wearing dark robes who drew a wooden stick and flung a curse at me, I'd probably drop my weapon in surprise as well. Still, I expect the duel to be something truly spectacular, given that Death Eaters don't typically carry swords or expect to be charged by a maniac wielding one. Though I do seem to recall a certain curse from HBP whose effects mimicked sword slashes on the unfortunate victim... Sectumsempra, was it?
In any case, I was somewhat disappointed with Alyson's performance in this chapter -- but maybe that's just the side of me that wants to prove to rabid HP wankers everywhere that magic < modern firearms and tactics in most situations. Well, to be perfectly honest, if I was faced with a masked man wearing dark robes who drew a wooden stick and flung a curse at me, I'd probably drop my weapon in surprise as well. Still, I expect the duel to be something truly spectacular, given that Death Eaters don't typically carry swords or expect to be charged by a maniac wielding one. Though I do seem to recall a certain curse from HBP whose effects mimicked sword slashes on the unfortunate victim... Sectumsempra, was it?
Sectumsempra is indeed the cutting curse, invented by the Half-Blood Prince, and discovered by Harry Potter.
Anyways... I'd advise you to not use this fanfic as "evidence" that magic < modern firearms and tactics, for obvious reasons I hope. Oh, and Alyson is Cadian, remember? She doesn't drop weapons in surprise.
Dense as a brick? Don't sell yourself short. I've got a lot of information that I'm including in here, and most of it isn't going to be explained. Just accept it and move on
.
Chapter 4
To be honest, Alyson was expecting a hostile reception. Many times she had tried to solve a problem without shooting the other party involved, and many times she had been forced to do so anyways. It was such a waste. Some of the people she had negotiated with and subsequently killed were smart, capable people who just happened to have fallen in with the wrong crowd, or been lied to by their superiors. Taking useful Imperial lives was never something Alyson had enjoyed doing. This was a bit different, though the regret was similar. These people could have been useful, they could have given her information, and they could have been a good resource to draw upon when the time came. Now, she would have to kill them.
All this thinking was going on as Alyson recognized a weapon, an alarm shout, and a threatening posture in the man apparently standing watch. Her organic consciousness didn’t register the next few seconds, which was a standard evade drill beaten into muscle memory by the Cadian, then Inquisitorial training. She probably would have killed the man on instinct and reflexes alone, but her lasgun getting hit by an attack required a decision, switching her active consciousness back on. Alyson remembered thinking, “My weapon has been hit by some sort of enemy attack. Unknown type, but the first one blew apart a tree, and this one got absorbed by my weapon. Unknown effects, I’ll assume my weapon is compromised until I can examine it carefully. My pistol will overpenetrate and damage the escape pod, so I’ll kill him with my knife.”
In a split second, the decision-making process finished, and Alyson dumped her lasgun. She asked the machine spirit of the lasgun for forgiveness, and promised to tend to it later. As she drew her Cadian bayonet, her consciousness switched off again, and the next thing she knew, she had sunk the 30-centimeter blade into the man’s concealed neck, severing the spine and penetrating all the way through, such that she could see the blade protruding out the back of the man’s neck. Alyson jerked the weapon out and took a quick look around. There were five more people outside, and the internal camera had shown a half-dozen inside, for a total of eleven active, presumed hostile, and one dead.
“Eleven hostiles, unknown capabilities, but they’re not running away. They’re either stupid, ignorant, or they think they can win. I hope it’s the first one.”
Alyson let her awareness sink into the Warp. She was momentarily disoriented, first from the shift of focus, but then from the absolute calmness of the local Warp. She saw the entire area all at once, smelled the combat drugs released into her body, and tasted the emotions of the people around her. She heard their thoughts, ranging from “What? What’s going on?” to “That person just jumped 7 meters from the treeline and stabbed Len in the throat!” Under that immediate fear, however, was a core composed of harsh dealings and ruthlessness. If she had time or the spare mental capacity, Alyson would have taken apart the man’s mind to find out more about this world. Now though, she was only concerned with how to kill them as quickly as possible.
Still focused in the Warp, Alyson commanded her body to move, and she sprinted towards the lookouts. To their credit, they drew their weapons and started firing with supernatural speed. Alyson bent the attacks around her, then decided to take a big risk. Normally, it was not safe for her to channel large amounts of Warp power, for fear of the power draw being a beacon for daemonic attack. But here, she could sense no daemons and the power was primed and ready for her to draw upon. It was as safe as it would ever be, and Alyson was a bit curious as to the effect a calm Warp environment would have on her powers. She drew in and encapsulated a fair-sized portion of Warp energy, then guided it into a focusing point, her outstretched hand, and released.
Lightning struck the five sentries, instantly hammering through their magical shields and flash boiling their blood. Bloody explosions were followed by robes igniting on fire, and the charred skeletons, still standing with bones fused together, looked like something out of a Chaos summoning ritual. Far from the sustained lightning in most common depictions, this was a single, five-branched flash, gone almost as it appeared, singeing the air and leaving the smell of ozone. Alyson was impressed. She had never been able to control the bolt so finely, and put so much power into it. Though it was still far from the minor feats other Inquisitors were capable of, and certainly nothing compared to Space Marine Librarians, Alyson’s test was a thrilling success for herself.
Momentary celebration was replaced by cold rationality sweeping into her mind. She withdrew from the Warp, and focused on the six individuals who had suddenly appeared in front of her. Alyson hesitated from just frying them again. Her body was not used to handing the stresses from channeling so much Warp power, and she didn’t want to risk collapsing when confronted by any reinforcements. She would take them out conventionally. Drawing her huge pistol, Alyson dialed the yield to minimum power and ducked behind the escape pod. Her first shot vaporized the nearest man from the waist up, and melted the face of the poor man next to him. As Alyson was about to duck into cover again, she suddenly realized that she couldn’t move.
“Impossible! They’ve got no psykers and I wasn’t hit by any of their attacks!”
Alyson dove into the Warp again, determined to quickly find and solve the problem. She couldn’t help overhearing the boasting thoughts of one of the men, who was thinking “Fool! Weren’t expecting a silent curse were you? That’ll teach you to mess with me!”
Truthfully, Alyson could have easily escaped. But the survivors had stopped firing, and she could sense the curiosity from the leader of the group. The two lackeys wanted to kill her, but the leader had forcibly stopped them, and said out loud, “Idiots! The Dark Lord would flay us for destroying such a powerful witch! We need to bring her to Him, and let Him decide what to do with her.”
The others grudgingly agreed, and cautiously approached her. One of them summoned ropes out of thin air, which coiled around Alyson’s limbs and bound them. Another disarmed her, and put both her pistol and her still-dripping bayonet into his sack. The leader approached, bent down, and looked into her eyes. He saw the lightning still flashing, and the icy violet stare of a predator, while Alyson saw the same predatory eyes and an insanity she had seen many times before.
With a quiet pop, the four people disappeared from the clearing, leaving the still-burning corpses as evidence of the events.
Anyways... I'd advise you to not use this fanfic as "evidence" that magic < modern firearms and tactics, for obvious reasons I hope. Oh, and Alyson is Cadian, remember? She doesn't drop weapons in surprise.
Dense as a brick? Don't sell yourself short. I've got a lot of information that I'm including in here, and most of it isn't going to be explained. Just accept it and move on
.Chapter 4
To be honest, Alyson was expecting a hostile reception. Many times she had tried to solve a problem without shooting the other party involved, and many times she had been forced to do so anyways. It was such a waste. Some of the people she had negotiated with and subsequently killed were smart, capable people who just happened to have fallen in with the wrong crowd, or been lied to by their superiors. Taking useful Imperial lives was never something Alyson had enjoyed doing. This was a bit different, though the regret was similar. These people could have been useful, they could have given her information, and they could have been a good resource to draw upon when the time came. Now, she would have to kill them.
All this thinking was going on as Alyson recognized a weapon, an alarm shout, and a threatening posture in the man apparently standing watch. Her organic consciousness didn’t register the next few seconds, which was a standard evade drill beaten into muscle memory by the Cadian, then Inquisitorial training. She probably would have killed the man on instinct and reflexes alone, but her lasgun getting hit by an attack required a decision, switching her active consciousness back on. Alyson remembered thinking, “My weapon has been hit by some sort of enemy attack. Unknown type, but the first one blew apart a tree, and this one got absorbed by my weapon. Unknown effects, I’ll assume my weapon is compromised until I can examine it carefully. My pistol will overpenetrate and damage the escape pod, so I’ll kill him with my knife.”
In a split second, the decision-making process finished, and Alyson dumped her lasgun. She asked the machine spirit of the lasgun for forgiveness, and promised to tend to it later. As she drew her Cadian bayonet, her consciousness switched off again, and the next thing she knew, she had sunk the 30-centimeter blade into the man’s concealed neck, severing the spine and penetrating all the way through, such that she could see the blade protruding out the back of the man’s neck. Alyson jerked the weapon out and took a quick look around. There were five more people outside, and the internal camera had shown a half-dozen inside, for a total of eleven active, presumed hostile, and one dead.
“Eleven hostiles, unknown capabilities, but they’re not running away. They’re either stupid, ignorant, or they think they can win. I hope it’s the first one.”
Alyson let her awareness sink into the Warp. She was momentarily disoriented, first from the shift of focus, but then from the absolute calmness of the local Warp. She saw the entire area all at once, smelled the combat drugs released into her body, and tasted the emotions of the people around her. She heard their thoughts, ranging from “What? What’s going on?” to “That person just jumped 7 meters from the treeline and stabbed Len in the throat!” Under that immediate fear, however, was a core composed of harsh dealings and ruthlessness. If she had time or the spare mental capacity, Alyson would have taken apart the man’s mind to find out more about this world. Now though, she was only concerned with how to kill them as quickly as possible.
Still focused in the Warp, Alyson commanded her body to move, and she sprinted towards the lookouts. To their credit, they drew their weapons and started firing with supernatural speed. Alyson bent the attacks around her, then decided to take a big risk. Normally, it was not safe for her to channel large amounts of Warp power, for fear of the power draw being a beacon for daemonic attack. But here, she could sense no daemons and the power was primed and ready for her to draw upon. It was as safe as it would ever be, and Alyson was a bit curious as to the effect a calm Warp environment would have on her powers. She drew in and encapsulated a fair-sized portion of Warp energy, then guided it into a focusing point, her outstretched hand, and released.
Lightning struck the five sentries, instantly hammering through their magical shields and flash boiling their blood. Bloody explosions were followed by robes igniting on fire, and the charred skeletons, still standing with bones fused together, looked like something out of a Chaos summoning ritual. Far from the sustained lightning in most common depictions, this was a single, five-branched flash, gone almost as it appeared, singeing the air and leaving the smell of ozone. Alyson was impressed. She had never been able to control the bolt so finely, and put so much power into it. Though it was still far from the minor feats other Inquisitors were capable of, and certainly nothing compared to Space Marine Librarians, Alyson’s test was a thrilling success for herself.
Momentary celebration was replaced by cold rationality sweeping into her mind. She withdrew from the Warp, and focused on the six individuals who had suddenly appeared in front of her. Alyson hesitated from just frying them again. Her body was not used to handing the stresses from channeling so much Warp power, and she didn’t want to risk collapsing when confronted by any reinforcements. She would take them out conventionally. Drawing her huge pistol, Alyson dialed the yield to minimum power and ducked behind the escape pod. Her first shot vaporized the nearest man from the waist up, and melted the face of the poor man next to him. As Alyson was about to duck into cover again, she suddenly realized that she couldn’t move.
“Impossible! They’ve got no psykers and I wasn’t hit by any of their attacks!”
Alyson dove into the Warp again, determined to quickly find and solve the problem. She couldn’t help overhearing the boasting thoughts of one of the men, who was thinking “Fool! Weren’t expecting a silent curse were you? That’ll teach you to mess with me!”
Truthfully, Alyson could have easily escaped. But the survivors had stopped firing, and she could sense the curiosity from the leader of the group. The two lackeys wanted to kill her, but the leader had forcibly stopped them, and said out loud, “Idiots! The Dark Lord would flay us for destroying such a powerful witch! We need to bring her to Him, and let Him decide what to do with her.”
The others grudgingly agreed, and cautiously approached her. One of them summoned ropes out of thin air, which coiled around Alyson’s limbs and bound them. Another disarmed her, and put both her pistol and her still-dripping bayonet into his sack. The leader approached, bent down, and looked into her eyes. He saw the lightning still flashing, and the icy violet stare of a predator, while Alyson saw the same predatory eyes and an insanity she had seen many times before.
With a quiet pop, the four people disappeared from the clearing, leaving the still-burning corpses as evidence of the events.
True enough, true enough. I still cannot tolerate an unsolved mystery, however, but that's neither here nor there.
Very nice work on this one, Hawkings. Is it terribly wrong that I was cackling madly as Alyson roasted those poor, poor Death Eaters with Force Lightning... erm, Warp Lightning? Really, you don't see enough of that in 40k canon, at least not in such... detail. Emperor Palpatine suddenly seems wholly inadequate by comparison.
Much as I wanted to, I can't fault the inquisitor for failing to predict a nonverbal curse, given how much more effective nonverbal spells seem to be in the HP universe (demonstrated most effectively at the end of Half-Blood Prince by the antagonist everyone just loves to hate). She's in quite over her head, but somehow I know (hope?) she'll survive her first contact with Riddle, or else this will have been a very short story, indeed.
On a side-note, might I inquire as to Alyson's psyker rating? Is she Gamma, Delta, or higher/lower still?
Very nice work on this one, Hawkings. Is it terribly wrong that I was cackling madly as Alyson roasted those poor, poor Death Eaters with Force Lightning... erm, Warp Lightning? Really, you don't see enough of that in 40k canon, at least not in such... detail. Emperor Palpatine suddenly seems wholly inadequate by comparison.
Much as I wanted to, I can't fault the inquisitor for failing to predict a nonverbal curse, given how much more effective nonverbal spells seem to be in the HP universe (demonstrated most effectively at the end of Half-Blood Prince by the antagonist everyone just loves to hate). She's in quite over her head, but somehow I know (hope?) she'll survive her first contact with Riddle, or else this will have been a very short story, indeed.
On a side-note, might I inquire as to Alyson's psyker rating? Is she Gamma, Delta, or higher/lower still?
Thank you!Dominus wrote:Very nice work on this one,
You misspelled my name. Think flying, as opposed to astrophysicist.Dominus wrote:Hawkings.
Your cackling must be really short, cause I'm pretty sure Alyson roasted them in a fraction of a second. In any case, I like lightning too. All those other elemental power users never really appreciated the power of lightning. it's so versatile and powerful. You have such a range of effects, from paralysis, to nervous system overload, brain-death, heart stoppage, and the all important charred skeleton. So many choices!Dominus wrote:...cackling madly as Alyson roasted those poor, poor Death Eaters with Force Lightning... erm, Warp Lightning?
I think He's in quite over His head. Not from Alyson though.Dominus wrote:She's in quite over her head
She's about a high-end Epsilon/low Delta. Not very powerful, even sanctioned psykers out-power her, so she's not gonna go psychic dueling with Chaos anytime soon (ever). But in safe Warp areas, like here, she can safely access about up to low gamma. Also, she's got some special qualities that more than make up for the power disparity.Dominus wrote:...inquire as to Alyson's psyker rating?
Poor Lord Voldemort. He just can't get a break, can he?
In all seriousness, my apologies, Hawkwings. I'll make a sincere effort to spell your name correctly if you continue to delight your more-or-less captive audience with feats of warp lightning and crispy Death Eaters... and redundant augemtic enhancements, because one can never have too many of those.
Oh my; I've just gutted myself on the Internet.Hawkwings wrote:You misspelled my name. Think flying, as opposed to astrophysicist.
In all seriousness, my apologies, Hawkwings. I'll make a sincere effort to spell your name correctly if you continue to delight your more-or-less captive audience with feats of warp lightning and crispy Death Eaters... and redundant augemtic enhancements, because one can never have too many of those.
Chapter 5
Alyson had teleported several times before in her Inquisitorial career, with equipment of varying complexity and refinement. The smoothest was on an Ad-Mech teleportation rig from Mars to an orbiting ship. In that one, she hardly felt a thing, and was caught unaware when her surroundings suddenly changed from a Mechanicus lab to an Inquisition cruiser. The worst, by far, was a combat teleportation onto a pirate carrier, which involved a terrifying few minutes floating in the Warp. This current teleportation wasn’t quite as bad as being surrounded by bloodthirsty daemons, but it was still uncomfortable for the few brief moments that it lasted. Again, she saw the relative tranquility of the local Warp, and surmised that this kind of teleportation would be incredibly risky, if not suicidal, in “regular” Warp currents.
They emerged back into the material world in a dry dusty cavern, with torches set to light the place. Alyson could see no exit, but there was a pile of boulders nearby that seemed to block off a tunnel, perhaps and entrance. The two underlings carried Alyson on a conjured stretcher and followed the leader, who had started walking into a low side tunnel. After a short walk, they emerged into some sort of sleeping chamber, with cots set out and a blazing green fire in the middle of the room. The leader pointed to a door set into the wall and said “Toss her in there and lock the door. And keep her tied up, no telling what she might do. Did you get her wand?”
The lackey with the bag opened it and looked inside. He poked around for a few seconds, then said “No, no wand, but that dagger could have worked as one.”
The leader glowered at the man and stared hard at Alyson and the bag. Apparently satisfied, he smirked, then said “Give me the bag. I need to have a meeting.”
The two Death-Eaters unceremoniously dumped Alyson onto the ground in the small cell, then slammed the door shut. Still bound and paralyzed, Alyson took the opportunity to examine her captors. The two lackeys were simple enough. They were motivated by hate and fear, both flowing from their psyches in waves. The hate was for anybody not like them, but especially their “oppressors”, and the fear was of their leader, and a mysterious figure with no name. The two emotions were linked in their minds, so that more of one caused the other to intensify, and vice versa. It would be difficult to break their minds, though not impossible. However, they were just muscle, Alyson recognized. Their leader was the one she was interested in.
Using her witch-sight, Alyson followed the man, now with the bag of her belongings, as he made his way into a different part of the caverns. She sensed fear and hate from this man as well, but also an undercurrent of curiosity, as well as some anxiety pertaining to what he was about to do. Extending her power, Alyson probed his mind, looking for clues about his motivations. While she could have been a hammer, smashing through his mind and examining the fragments, here she wanted to see what he was going to do. She didn’t get very much information from her soft approach, but she did pick up one concept that was in his immediate thoughts, “host body”.
Now slightly more concerned, Alyson latched on to his consciousness to see what was about to happen.
-----
“My Lord, I bring good news.”
The man was in some sort of meeting area, with another sickly-green fire in front of him. He was talking to the fire, and there was some sort of flickering face in it, though it was indistinct. The voice in the fire spoke.
“What is it, Neldish?”
The voice was thin and raspy, almost like the person was old and sick. The fear in the Death-eater’s mind did not diminish because of this fact.
“We have procured a powerful host for you, Lord. I believe you will find it very satisfactory.”
There was a pause. A moment of terror in the Death-Eater’s mind. Then the voice came back.
“I will send someone to examine the host. Do not question him, and follow his orders as if they were my own.”
“Yes Lord.”
The fire went out, then suddenly blazed to life again, higher and more fierce than before. The Death-Eater took a step back and watched a tall man with the same dark robes stepped out of the fire. He took a step forward, looked around the room and said in a heavily accented voice, “Neldish. You have lost many comrades.” Before giving him a chance to respond, the new arrival said quickly “But that does not matter if you have served out Lord well. Take me to see the host. Quickly. Quietly.”
Without a word, the two Death-Eaters walked back to the cell where Alyson was still laying on the ground.
-----
Alyson could immediately tell that the new arrival was going to be a big threat. For one, he was a psyker, there was no doubt about it. He was stronger than Alyson too, a high Gamma-level, and Alyson could see a strange Chaos corruption in his soul. The Chaotic influence was old, implanted many years ago, and yet, it had not spread and was not strong. There were no mutations, no new powers granted, and no other effects except for the subtle twisting of the man’s mind. Alyson had never seen anything like this before, usually chaos overwhelmed a body and took it over in a short time. Even the most disciplined of victims could not hold out for any significant amount of time. For a corruption to be so small for so long, there had to be something new happening, something never seen anywhere else.
Alyson guessed it had something to do with the calm Warp here, but before she had a chance to gather more information, the door to her cell glowed briefly and swung open.
Alyson had teleported several times before in her Inquisitorial career, with equipment of varying complexity and refinement. The smoothest was on an Ad-Mech teleportation rig from Mars to an orbiting ship. In that one, she hardly felt a thing, and was caught unaware when her surroundings suddenly changed from a Mechanicus lab to an Inquisition cruiser. The worst, by far, was a combat teleportation onto a pirate carrier, which involved a terrifying few minutes floating in the Warp. This current teleportation wasn’t quite as bad as being surrounded by bloodthirsty daemons, but it was still uncomfortable for the few brief moments that it lasted. Again, she saw the relative tranquility of the local Warp, and surmised that this kind of teleportation would be incredibly risky, if not suicidal, in “regular” Warp currents.
They emerged back into the material world in a dry dusty cavern, with torches set to light the place. Alyson could see no exit, but there was a pile of boulders nearby that seemed to block off a tunnel, perhaps and entrance. The two underlings carried Alyson on a conjured stretcher and followed the leader, who had started walking into a low side tunnel. After a short walk, they emerged into some sort of sleeping chamber, with cots set out and a blazing green fire in the middle of the room. The leader pointed to a door set into the wall and said “Toss her in there and lock the door. And keep her tied up, no telling what she might do. Did you get her wand?”
The lackey with the bag opened it and looked inside. He poked around for a few seconds, then said “No, no wand, but that dagger could have worked as one.”
The leader glowered at the man and stared hard at Alyson and the bag. Apparently satisfied, he smirked, then said “Give me the bag. I need to have a meeting.”
The two Death-Eaters unceremoniously dumped Alyson onto the ground in the small cell, then slammed the door shut. Still bound and paralyzed, Alyson took the opportunity to examine her captors. The two lackeys were simple enough. They were motivated by hate and fear, both flowing from their psyches in waves. The hate was for anybody not like them, but especially their “oppressors”, and the fear was of their leader, and a mysterious figure with no name. The two emotions were linked in their minds, so that more of one caused the other to intensify, and vice versa. It would be difficult to break their minds, though not impossible. However, they were just muscle, Alyson recognized. Their leader was the one she was interested in.
Using her witch-sight, Alyson followed the man, now with the bag of her belongings, as he made his way into a different part of the caverns. She sensed fear and hate from this man as well, but also an undercurrent of curiosity, as well as some anxiety pertaining to what he was about to do. Extending her power, Alyson probed his mind, looking for clues about his motivations. While she could have been a hammer, smashing through his mind and examining the fragments, here she wanted to see what he was going to do. She didn’t get very much information from her soft approach, but she did pick up one concept that was in his immediate thoughts, “host body”.
Now slightly more concerned, Alyson latched on to his consciousness to see what was about to happen.
-----
“My Lord, I bring good news.”
The man was in some sort of meeting area, with another sickly-green fire in front of him. He was talking to the fire, and there was some sort of flickering face in it, though it was indistinct. The voice in the fire spoke.
“What is it, Neldish?”
The voice was thin and raspy, almost like the person was old and sick. The fear in the Death-eater’s mind did not diminish because of this fact.
“We have procured a powerful host for you, Lord. I believe you will find it very satisfactory.”
There was a pause. A moment of terror in the Death-Eater’s mind. Then the voice came back.
“I will send someone to examine the host. Do not question him, and follow his orders as if they were my own.”
“Yes Lord.”
The fire went out, then suddenly blazed to life again, higher and more fierce than before. The Death-Eater took a step back and watched a tall man with the same dark robes stepped out of the fire. He took a step forward, looked around the room and said in a heavily accented voice, “Neldish. You have lost many comrades.” Before giving him a chance to respond, the new arrival said quickly “But that does not matter if you have served out Lord well. Take me to see the host. Quickly. Quietly.”
Without a word, the two Death-Eaters walked back to the cell where Alyson was still laying on the ground.
-----
Alyson could immediately tell that the new arrival was going to be a big threat. For one, he was a psyker, there was no doubt about it. He was stronger than Alyson too, a high Gamma-level, and Alyson could see a strange Chaos corruption in his soul. The Chaotic influence was old, implanted many years ago, and yet, it had not spread and was not strong. There were no mutations, no new powers granted, and no other effects except for the subtle twisting of the man’s mind. Alyson had never seen anything like this before, usually chaos overwhelmed a body and took it over in a short time. Even the most disciplined of victims could not hold out for any significant amount of time. For a corruption to be so small for so long, there had to be something new happening, something never seen anywhere else.
Alyson guessed it had something to do with the calm Warp here, but before she had a chance to gather more information, the door to her cell glowed briefly and swung open.
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The Grim Squeaker
- Emperor's Hand
- Posts: 10315
- Joined: 2005-06-01 01:44am
- Location: A different time-space Continuum
- Contact:
Alpha plus (or Apex) is, though higher psykers are known, such as Daemon princes or the Emperor, Greater Daemon princes, etc'.fusion wrote:Wait a minute, isn't alpha the highest ranking for a psyker was alpha or am I wrong.
Other wise, I want to see more!!
And Gamma is very powerful, a high Delta can wear a half dozen people like puppets and has multi KM range through shields (Ravenor).
Looks interesting, though the retconning explanations are a little strongly done
.Photography
Genius is always allowed some leeway, once the hammer has been pried from its hands and the blood has been cleaned up.
To improve is to change; to be perfect is to change often.
Genius is always allowed some leeway, once the hammer has been pried from its hands and the blood has been cleaned up.
To improve is to change; to be perfect is to change often.
The life of an Inquisitor is fraught with peril, especially for one such as Alyson, who traveled with a small party and was not the most physically or psychically formidable opponent. However, she had something that all her colleagues would kill for, an unnatural reservoir of luck that she seemed to draw upon when faced with deadly situations. There were those, mostly monodominant fanatics, that shunned this sort of thing, but there was really nothing Alyson could do about it except prepare for the day that it would no longer save her.
This was not that day. As soon as the cultist psyker entered the cell, the entire cavern shook, as if a huge explosion had gone off nearby, or a rockslide. Still bound on the floor, Alyson was thrown around a bit, but not seriously affected. The two cultists, on the other hand, were thrown off their feet. The psyker recovered faster than the other one, who looked to have taken on a subservient role to the new arrival. Before they could get on with their business, or investigate what had just happened, they all heard sounds of people yelling, heavy footsteps, and explosions.
It’s an attack! But by who? And why? And how many sides are there?
The cultist psyker glared at Alyson, then turned around and nearly crushed the other man as he raced towards the commotion. The other man, after recovering from his fall, also ran off, leaving Alyson alone in the cell again, but this time with an open door.
Time to leave, I’m not going to fight a high-powered psyker with nothing but my mind, not even here.
Alyson opened herself to the Warp again, let the energy enter her bound arms, and with a surge of effort, burnt the ropes to ash. She untied the ones around her legs, then noticed that the two cultists had left a sack behind in their haste to defend themselves. Hoping for something she could use as a weapon, Alyson picked up the sack and was instantly disappointed when it hung limp and weighed no more than an empty sack would. Still, something such as a piece of string didn’t weigh that much, and could be a deadly weapon, especially after the month-long string-fighting portion of her education on Cadia. Alyson opened the bag.
What she saw caused her nearly to drop the bag in surprise. In it was all her weapons that had been confiscated, plus considerable loot from the escape pod. The view into the bag was so disorienting that she had to close it again and stop to make sure that her mind hadn’t been compromised by something evil. After taking several deep breaths and saying a quick prayer, Alyson braced herself, opened the bag, and quickly grabbed her knife. The closed the bag, stuffed it into a pocket, and tried to not think about the incident as she stalked off after her former captors.
Following the noise, Alyson found the fight soon enough. Already several of the attackers were laying facedown on the ground, presumably dead, and the two sides were still engaged in a vicious short-range brawl with their strange stick-weapons. Instead of taking cover, concealment, or flanking, tactics that even the newest farm-boy guardsman knew, they were standing out in the open, yelling things, and firing different-colored energy blasts at each other. The weapon also seemed to serve as a sort of shield, as Alyson saw when the attacks were dissipated or turned away by a quick slicing or flicking motion. She would have to capture and investigate one of these weapons later, and find their properties. For now, she needed to decide what to do here.
In reality, Alyson only had one choice. She had to kill the psyker. He was too powerful for her to take out by herself, in “normal” circumstances, but here, while he was distracted, he was a relatively easy target. After that, she could figure out how to deal with the attackers. If they had a powerful psyker too, it could pose problems, but she had this immediate threat to take care of first.
Alyson dove into the Warp again and found the psyker’s imprint. His mind was dark, closed-off, with the evil seed in the middle, but around it a swirl of emotions and senses. Alyson hid herself and gently nudged several warp currents towards him, probing. The psyker deflected them, but she could definitely sense the momentary lapse in his concentration. This was much easier than she originally thought. Powerful psyker though he may be, judging from the instinctive and haphazard way the probes were deflected, he had had no formal training by anyone even approaching Imperial standards. Which wasn’t to say that he couldn’t easily crush bones or make people his puppets, he just didn’t have the fine knowledge and control that Alyson and other imperial psykers had.
Now confident that she could pull it off, Alyson directed a huge torrent of warp tendrils towards the man’s psyche, similar to an attack by warp beings, then she hid her traces and “ran” from the scene, not bothering to stick around for the results. Either the man’s mind would melt under the force of the attack, unlikely, or he would be distracted long enough for the attackers to land a solid hit.
Alyson’s attack was rewarded by a huge bellow of pain, and the cheering sounds of the attackers. She heard them running around, checking for other enemies, before one of them said “Check for prisoners, release them and we’ll take them back for treatment and maybe learn something about what they were doing here.”
This was too good of an opportunity to pass up. Other inquisitors would have balked at being “captured” the first time, another time was simply beneath them. Even some of the more radical types were intensely prideful and would look down on Alyson for such a plan.
Well, they’re not here to berate me, are they?
Alyson dropped her knife into the bag, carefully, then quietly slipped back to the cell and tied herself up, but not too well. The bruises and cuts were already convincing enough, no need to add anything. Just a few seconds after getting prepared, three men burst into the cell, weapons drawn. Alyson noted their poor room-clearing technique, but gave them her best “surprised” face.
“Hey, we’ve found one!”
“Quick, untie her!”
“Boss, there’s one alive over here!”
At least they’re organized, I was worried that this would be some sort of mob
The three men stood her up and untied her, struggling with the knots for a bit. One of them examined her injuries while the other started asking questions.
“Why were they keeping you prisoner? Do you know what they were planning on doing? Did you recognize any of them?”
Just then, the “Boss” showed up. It was obvious he was in charge here, he had the same aura of power and command that Alyson had seen a thousand times before, from Guard commanders to Adeptus Terra Magistrates. The man strode over to the rescuer who was asking questions, put a hand on his shoulder, and said “We’ll have time for questions later, right now we’ve got a live prisoner that we need to get to St. Mungo’s immediately. Besides, they most likely wiped her memory, so we won’t learn anything her anyways.”
He was an older man, and spoke in a tone almost like a parent chastising a child. The questioner dropped his eyes and looked embarrassed, muttering a quick “sorry”.
Another man ran up to the group, yelling excitedly “The field is down! We can apparate directly out of here now!” He was followed by several others who reported nothing of incident.
“There’s nothing here worth staying for then? Alright, let’s get our guest to a hospital.”
All the people drew their stick-weapons, and Alyson was afraid they were going to do something stupid when all of a sudden her consciousness dissolved and was forced into the Warp, the signs of another teleport.
This was not that day. As soon as the cultist psyker entered the cell, the entire cavern shook, as if a huge explosion had gone off nearby, or a rockslide. Still bound on the floor, Alyson was thrown around a bit, but not seriously affected. The two cultists, on the other hand, were thrown off their feet. The psyker recovered faster than the other one, who looked to have taken on a subservient role to the new arrival. Before they could get on with their business, or investigate what had just happened, they all heard sounds of people yelling, heavy footsteps, and explosions.
It’s an attack! But by who? And why? And how many sides are there?
The cultist psyker glared at Alyson, then turned around and nearly crushed the other man as he raced towards the commotion. The other man, after recovering from his fall, also ran off, leaving Alyson alone in the cell again, but this time with an open door.
Time to leave, I’m not going to fight a high-powered psyker with nothing but my mind, not even here.
Alyson opened herself to the Warp again, let the energy enter her bound arms, and with a surge of effort, burnt the ropes to ash. She untied the ones around her legs, then noticed that the two cultists had left a sack behind in their haste to defend themselves. Hoping for something she could use as a weapon, Alyson picked up the sack and was instantly disappointed when it hung limp and weighed no more than an empty sack would. Still, something such as a piece of string didn’t weigh that much, and could be a deadly weapon, especially after the month-long string-fighting portion of her education on Cadia. Alyson opened the bag.
What she saw caused her nearly to drop the bag in surprise. In it was all her weapons that had been confiscated, plus considerable loot from the escape pod. The view into the bag was so disorienting that she had to close it again and stop to make sure that her mind hadn’t been compromised by something evil. After taking several deep breaths and saying a quick prayer, Alyson braced herself, opened the bag, and quickly grabbed her knife. The closed the bag, stuffed it into a pocket, and tried to not think about the incident as she stalked off after her former captors.
Following the noise, Alyson found the fight soon enough. Already several of the attackers were laying facedown on the ground, presumably dead, and the two sides were still engaged in a vicious short-range brawl with their strange stick-weapons. Instead of taking cover, concealment, or flanking, tactics that even the newest farm-boy guardsman knew, they were standing out in the open, yelling things, and firing different-colored energy blasts at each other. The weapon also seemed to serve as a sort of shield, as Alyson saw when the attacks were dissipated or turned away by a quick slicing or flicking motion. She would have to capture and investigate one of these weapons later, and find their properties. For now, she needed to decide what to do here.
In reality, Alyson only had one choice. She had to kill the psyker. He was too powerful for her to take out by herself, in “normal” circumstances, but here, while he was distracted, he was a relatively easy target. After that, she could figure out how to deal with the attackers. If they had a powerful psyker too, it could pose problems, but she had this immediate threat to take care of first.
Alyson dove into the Warp again and found the psyker’s imprint. His mind was dark, closed-off, with the evil seed in the middle, but around it a swirl of emotions and senses. Alyson hid herself and gently nudged several warp currents towards him, probing. The psyker deflected them, but she could definitely sense the momentary lapse in his concentration. This was much easier than she originally thought. Powerful psyker though he may be, judging from the instinctive and haphazard way the probes were deflected, he had had no formal training by anyone even approaching Imperial standards. Which wasn’t to say that he couldn’t easily crush bones or make people his puppets, he just didn’t have the fine knowledge and control that Alyson and other imperial psykers had.
Now confident that she could pull it off, Alyson directed a huge torrent of warp tendrils towards the man’s psyche, similar to an attack by warp beings, then she hid her traces and “ran” from the scene, not bothering to stick around for the results. Either the man’s mind would melt under the force of the attack, unlikely, or he would be distracted long enough for the attackers to land a solid hit.
Alyson’s attack was rewarded by a huge bellow of pain, and the cheering sounds of the attackers. She heard them running around, checking for other enemies, before one of them said “Check for prisoners, release them and we’ll take them back for treatment and maybe learn something about what they were doing here.”
This was too good of an opportunity to pass up. Other inquisitors would have balked at being “captured” the first time, another time was simply beneath them. Even some of the more radical types were intensely prideful and would look down on Alyson for such a plan.
Well, they’re not here to berate me, are they?
Alyson dropped her knife into the bag, carefully, then quietly slipped back to the cell and tied herself up, but not too well. The bruises and cuts were already convincing enough, no need to add anything. Just a few seconds after getting prepared, three men burst into the cell, weapons drawn. Alyson noted their poor room-clearing technique, but gave them her best “surprised” face.
“Hey, we’ve found one!”
“Quick, untie her!”
“Boss, there’s one alive over here!”
At least they’re organized, I was worried that this would be some sort of mob
The three men stood her up and untied her, struggling with the knots for a bit. One of them examined her injuries while the other started asking questions.
“Why were they keeping you prisoner? Do you know what they were planning on doing? Did you recognize any of them?”
Just then, the “Boss” showed up. It was obvious he was in charge here, he had the same aura of power and command that Alyson had seen a thousand times before, from Guard commanders to Adeptus Terra Magistrates. The man strode over to the rescuer who was asking questions, put a hand on his shoulder, and said “We’ll have time for questions later, right now we’ve got a live prisoner that we need to get to St. Mungo’s immediately. Besides, they most likely wiped her memory, so we won’t learn anything her anyways.”
He was an older man, and spoke in a tone almost like a parent chastising a child. The questioner dropped his eyes and looked embarrassed, muttering a quick “sorry”.
Another man ran up to the group, yelling excitedly “The field is down! We can apparate directly out of here now!” He was followed by several others who reported nothing of incident.
“There’s nothing here worth staying for then? Alright, let’s get our guest to a hospital.”
All the people drew their stick-weapons, and Alyson was afraid they were going to do something stupid when all of a sudden her consciousness dissolved and was forced into the Warp, the signs of another teleport.