40K Dark Heresy: The Recondite War

[Zablorg]

Crom, who had been tasked with carrying the ark, sensing the vibrations of the unlocking seals, discreetely scuttled back into the shuttle and opened it, his back turned away from the open door lest anyone see. He picked up the active slate. Unfortunately, it was a result of Crom's upbringing that he did not know how to read. He extracted the slate, closed the case, exited the shuttle bay, and inquired:

"Hey, uh, does anyone know how to read? It appears we have instructions from our benefactor."

[The Yosemite Bear]

"Well don't look at me."

"I've never understood it myself, besides everything thats really important is usually printed as a sygil that even a feral dirtsider would understand."

[Jaevric]

Darien steps back into the shuttle as if returning for something left on board then turns to Crom and holds his free hand out for the data slate.

"I can read. Allow me, please."

[NecronLord]

Given by Count Sergar Regis upon St. Tharlmund's Day, Malfi.

Greetings, Servants of the Emperor.

If you are reading this message, then you have arrived safely at your destination. Soon you will no doubt be contacted by the Proctor. There is little more I can say regarding this matter, but there is one upon this world who may be of inestimable help to your cause. He is a man by the name of Mithras, an agent of our mutual Master the Emperor, with an aquila tattoo above his eye.

It is he who has been able to secure information regarding the failings of the Proctor for me, and he will lend verisimilitude to your cover, for he has been established as an Imperial Guard ecclesiarchical liaison's aide for some time upon Askelphion, and it is that liaison who has been in partial charge of forwarding the request for witch finders. You could do worse than to find him, and then report to the Proctor's office. Mithras should be released from obligations upon the planet, and be able to accompany you for as long as necessary.

Hail to the Emperor,

Sergar

[Lancer]

"Very well. Does anybody have any idea of where Mithras might make office, or shall we go shambling about looking for him?"

[Jaevric]

Darien taps the data slate, then says, "How many Imperial Guard officers can be serving as liasons to the Ecclesiarchy on this planet? Can't be all that many, on a planet like this, unless the bureaucracy has grown completely disproportionate to the population. The best bet may simply to be to find out where the highest-ranking members of the Ecclesiarchy on this planet work and go there."

[Lancer]

The Techpriest looked as if he were about to speak, but quickly bit back the rejoinder. After a moments consideration, he replied. "I suppose we could find the location of his office from the local Administratum headquarters."

[Jaevric]

Darien shrugs, and agrees, "The local Administratum might be a better idea, indeed. Let's find out where the main complex is and head there. We'll probably want to acquire at least one map of the vicinity anyway for a reference, and there surely has to be a place to do so near a space port."

[White Haven]

Ajax finally speaks up, after observing the entire exchange from the fringe of the group, "May I recommend that we grab the ark, put it in something nondescript, and get off of this remarkably exposed landing pad before some suspicious bastard with magnoculars wonders why a group of witch-hunters is huddling around an unsealed container before heading to meet an otherwise ordinary Guard officer?" He smirks, his thoughts drifting to the inquisitorial crest hidden away in a compartment in his belt, "Someone might think we've something to hide...well, more than the ordinary amount any servant of the Emperor hides. And as for asking the Administratum, you can't ask a clerk the time of day without incurring the wrath of the god of all paperwork, much less an organization made up entirely of clerks and Lord-clerks." His voice is dry and cutting, growing distinctly less friendly as he mentions 'Lord-clerks.'

"Do you really want to leave a trail of records?"

[Lancer]

"Of course. It would be remiss of us to suddenly appear on the radar. Better that we leave a trail that backs our tale than to suddenly appear from nowhere. As far as anybody checking is concerned, we are simply Witchhunters and retinue checking in with the Liason who requested our aide."

[Jaevric]

Darien looks from Mercurius to Ajax a moment, then shrugs and turns to Crom, opening his duffel bag and holding it out.

"Put the ark in here for the time being. Less conspicious. We can decide who carries what in a bit; I'm not going to ask you to haul my spare clothes around.

"As for finding our contact, I really don't care whether we spend all day travelling from chapel to chapel or sitting on our backsides while some Administratum drone looks up the information, as long as we do whatever we're going to do soon. Let's go look for a map first at least rather than just standing around on the landing platform waiting for some drunk spacer to park a lander on our heads. After we find out where things are, we can always just go to whichever option between the headquarters for the Administratum or Ecclesiarchy is most convenient."

[NecronLord]

A liveried star-port flunky climbed a set of stairs leading to the landing pad, and began to intone the correct rituals for connecting a reactant pipe to the landed shuttle. There was little sign of administration around this area, but the priesthood were everywhere, as if keen to attract the attention of space-port travellers; picking the right area would probably be difficult, though a small militant mission guarded by Celestians of the Sisters of Battle was prominently the kind of place one might expect to find a guard liason.

[The Yosemite Bear]

Eli kept his head down as he and the others headded to the militant shrine. Hopefully they didn't attract too much of the wrong kind of attention...

[Jaevric]

Approaching the mission with a brisk stride, but keeping his hands well away from his weapons, Darien makes the sign of the aquila to the Sisters of Battle, bowing his head politely.

"Is this mission open to the public, Sisters, or would you be able to send a message to someone inside if it is not? My companions and I are newly-arrived on this world and are seeking information."

[NecronLord]

One of the Celestians nodded, her white helmet inclining with almost machine-like precision, and with a clank, the sally port beyond opened a moment later, a girl who seemed far smaller than the two armoured warrior women flanking the closed doorway, stepped out. This girl was apparently some form of novice, and she bowed slightly, “Greetings,” she said, “The servants of the Emperor are always ready to attend to the needs of the Faithful,” she gave a slightly curious look toward Mercurius, though not a hostile one, more as though she’d never actually seen a tech-priest before, “how may we help you?”

[Jaevric]

"We are seeking a man named Mithras who is serving as the aide to an Imperial Guard officer liasing with the Ecclesiarchy. This mission seemed a fairly likely place for such an office; if nothing else, I had hoped someone here would be able to direct us to him."

[NecronLord]

She nodded, "He is known to me. I shall take you to him," she added, turning smartly, and leading the group into a gatehouse containing a pair of heavy bolters mounted in pivoting sections in the walls, and through another gate behind it, into a high ceilinged chapel, with a large bronze statue of the Emperor beheading a heretic at its centre. She made a sign of the aquila, and led the group through a side door, into a small warren of what appeared to be a mix between armouries and vestries, up a spiral staircase, and to a doorway labelled 'Imperial Guard Liason...'

[Balrog]

Mithras Sanctorum, of His Holy God-Emperor's 497th Askelphion Regiment, was tired. What should have been a nice uneventful day was squelched when the Lieutenant decided now was a good time to clean up the office, handed the job off to Mithras and disappeared. In between filing pict-slates and stacking boxes of official documents he cursed the lazy son of a whore, making sure to keep his voice low in case a passing Sister overheard him.

But as he looked around the office, Mithras felt a certain sense of pride. The place was finally organized after weeks of accumulating piles of paperwork; it had gotten to the point that he swore it had started breeding on its own. Now one could find a place to sit and walk around without the risk of starting an avalanche of parchment. For once the sun came in unobstructed through the narrow window slits, drawing lines of light across the Guardsman's desk.

He sat there, head resting on his hand, when the knock came at the office door. Quickly he sat up straight, running a hand through his cropped brown hair, and straightened up the wrinkles in his pressed uniform. "Come in."

[The Yosemite Bear]

Eli walked in, with the rest casting a quick sidelong glance at the departing novice. Kicking his feet up onto the desk, he smiled and said that we had certain "Mutual Associates".

[Zablorg]

Crom, suddenly realizing the urgency of a good first impression with the man in the suit, rushed over to Eli and subtly (sp?) gave him a thwack on one of his shins with his brass knuckles.

[Balrog]

A frown spread across Mithras' face as the stranger rested his dirty feet on the clean desk. "And just who are you?" His hand shifted slightly under his desk.

[The Yosemite Bear]

My name sir is Eli, I and my associates serve at the pleasure of he on Terra, but who doesn't. We have been sent here to communicate and cooperate with you. Officially we are a band of Witchhunters. The others can explain this better.

then looking at Ajax
You know a REAL cutthrote like Red Bill would have about as much metal for his body as our friend from the mechanicus over here.

[White Haven]

The black-coated not-at-all-a-psyker-honest-Sisters-no-really stepped into the office a bit behind the rest of the small band, having lagged behind to have a look about and see if any undue attention was being paid to the rather off-color procession. He takes up a position near the door, nodding a silent greeting to the desk's occupant but otherwise simply observing at first. At the verbal jab, he snorts and shakes his head, "Augmentics would just mean that I was good at getting bits shot off. Anyway..." He looks past his companion towards Mithras, "I do believe we were recommended to liase with you. So, consider yourself properly liased, and let's get down to figuring out what in the Throne's name is going on here, shall we?"

In a lower tone, to himself, he comments, "Liase. I like it. Have to use that more often."

[Balrog]

"Many claim to serve in His Name and yet have a purpose more sinister. Such is the way of things in the galaxy. Do you have...proof to back up your words?"

[Zablorg]

Crom searched for an official sounding word.

"Verily!" he declared, as he handed him the data-slab.