Multerra Dark Heresy: Edge of Darkness (IC)

The Future Warrior

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This will be the official IC thread for the game. I'm putting it up now so that it's ready to begin and get underway, as the first portion of the game will largely move at your own pace, until planetfall. With the holidays, I'm pushing the official start date back until approximately...Wednesday, the 27th, to give people time to finish up or ask any last minute questions and the like. But in the meantime, those of you who are ready, you're more than welcome to commence to the roleplaying and familiarizing yourselves with each other or generally digging into the lore or the like as you wish.

To start us off, here is the in-character report you were all given, regarding the assignment:




195-1957431_imperial-aquila-warhammer-40k-imperial-flag.png
Ref: Inq/045678499/BI
Author:
Inquisitor Jovinus Haugaarde
Subject: Mission Briefing
Name: Iocanthos
Location: Segmentum Obscurus
Sector: Callixis (Scintillan Sub)
Tithe Grade: Exactus Median
Notes: ref—Ghostfire Pollen


Mission Details: The Inquisition offices on Scintilla have been formally issued with a request for assistance from the settlement of Stern
Hope on Iocanthos. The report, while vague, suggests suspicious disturbances, possibly psychic or warp-based, occurring in the area of
a new cathedral raised to honor Saint Drusus. The cathedral lies at the heart of the remote outpost and its successful completion will do
much to further the Imperial faith on this troubled world, a laudable goal and one that the Holy Ordos shares.
You are requested and required to proceed to the planet Iocanthos where you will assist a Senior Inquisitorial Agent, Aristarchus the Seer,
in investigating the incidents and ensuring that the consecration of the cathedral goes as planned. Your principal tasks are to gather data
about any phenomena encountered and, where needed, eliminate any threats that you find. For the duration of the mission, Aristarchus
has the honor of command over you in my name. Assist him and afford him the same loyalty as you would give me, in the God-
Emperor’s name.
Passage for you has been arranged on the trade-hauler Brazen Sky for immediate departure to Iocanthos. Make yourself known and
familiarize yourself with your fellow Acolytes on board using the codes you have learned during your training.
Landing close to the site of the incident is impractical due to its geographical location in a mountain range and the potential hostility of the
natives. Instead you will make planetfall at Port Suffering (Iocanthos’ primary Imperial outpost) and meet Aristarchus there. From Port
Suffering, arrangements have been made for your journey to Stern Hope.


Addendum 1: The Cathedral Mission
Missionary-Abbot Orland Skae successfully petitioned for the first Iocanthan cathedral to be built in the settlement Stern Hope two years
ago, and since then reports indicate that he has gathered a sizeable congregation of native converts and worthy off-world pilgrims to
his cause. Skae himself, a very distant scion of Scintillan nobility, has managed to garner both of f-world donations and considerable local
support to his mission, so far succeeding where others have failed.


Addendum 2: Reported Phenomena
As the cathedral structure has neared completion, unusual phenomena have been evidenced both at the site and in the surrounding
area. These include strange lights in the hills, animal attacks, missing persons, an upsurge in accidents and unexplained deaths. These
incidents have culminated recently in more serious and obviously unnatural events such as manifestations of phantom sounds, walls
weeping blood, telekinetic disturbances and other such phantasmagoria.


Addendum 3: Planetary Briefing
Society:
Iocanthos is an anarchic pseudo-feudal society, where all power-relationships are based on violence or its threat. A war-tor n
and brutal world, the control of the planet rests with various warlord and clan factions that compete to harvest or steal the planet’s
only tithed material, Ghostfire pollen, in order to tur n it over to the Imperium in exchange for supplies. The most powerful warlord is
currently King Vervai Skull who is currently acknowledged as Iocanthos’s de facto planetary governor. Iocanthos boasts a single fortified
Administratum-controlled spaceport settlement, Port Suffering, where the tithe is collected and trans-shipped.

Founding: Iocanthos was taken by General (Saint) Drusus’s 2nd Army Group during the first great crusades through the sector. As the
planet lacked any significant technology, Drusus’s forces defeated the indigenous people, known as the Ashleen, in a single week of
bloody fighting. Drusus later remarked in his memoirs that the only memorable aspect of the planet was the vast fields of wild flowers
which resembled “Shimmering fields of rippling explosions, caught at that fleeting moment between beauty and destruction” [Ref. pg.
526—Breaching the Darkness]. As ever, the general was perceptive as the Ghostfire would become central to the world’s future.

Additional Notes: In times past, Iocanthos served as a penal dumping ground for undesirables that the Scintillan authorities for various
reasons didn’t wish to execute or expatriate further afield. Such exiles were given minimal supplies and allowed to thrive or falter
without further interference. The current population is largely a mixture of their descendants and the native Ashleen.
Imperial xeno-botanist Mogren Thunt was the person who discovered that the pollen of the native Ghostfire flowers contained powerful
psychoactive properties and refined their use.
After being graced with a powerful vision telling her to build a temple, “Where the flowers burn”, Sister Semberle of the Adeptus Sororitas
came to the world and ordered the building of the Abbey of the Dawn in one of Iocanthos’s flint mountain ranges. The Sororitas facility
is forbidden to outsiders.

Ref—Ghostfire Pollen: Iocanthos’s sole tithe. It is a power ful psychoactive substance used as the base for a considerable number of
combat drugs used by the Imperial Guard’s penal legions throughout the Segmentum Obscurus.

Past Inquisitorial Involvement: To the average Iocanthan, the Inquisition is merely another half-legendary power from beyond their world,
and while there are records of several Inquisitorial missions to Iocanthos in the past, they are all classified beyond your clearance rating.
I have reviewed them and judge none to be currently relevant to your mission.
The planet historically registers a slightly higher per capita level of psyker birth, but not significantly so.
The Sisters of the Abbey of the Dawn regularly report any unusual heretical activity to the Conclave. Other than this, the Holy Ordos retain
no standing presence on Iocanthos.




Your assignment begins with the acolytes already in mid-passage aboard the trade-hauler, Brazen Sky, as arranged by the Inquisitor.

The Brazen Sky is...hardly luxurious, but it is at least in good repair. It's a sizable vessel, capable of making the trip across the well-traveled route of your passage in but a few days. Unfortunately, it was rather obviously designed more with hauling cargo than passengers in mind, and it only offers one single open-walled crew bay. The walls bear some visible signs of rust, the glow-lamps flicker worrying and sometimes go out completely for hours or days at a time, and the furnishings are far from luxurious (or even truly comfortable, for that matter), but are the best that can be offered in the circumstances. Meals have been provided in the galley alongside the rest of the crew, seeing the acolytes in the midst of the ship's engineers and ratings, though for the most part they are largely ignored. The only constant on board the ship is the noise, the constant grinding of mechanical parts that may or may not be working, screeching behind the plas-steel plates of the walls.

The acolytes have little freedom to move around the ship, but have been "generously" provided with the services of a fawning, alarmingly obsequious purser by the name of Sebek.

As mentioned, this is the IC thread, which will jump right into the mission, or at least the journey to it. Take this time to get a feel for your characters, get to know each other, question Sebek or make any last-minute personal in-character preparations. This phase will move more or less at your pace, and will progress to planetfall and landing.

The OOC thread is, as a reminder, found here, so please make sure to keep
any questions there to keep this thread nice and clutter-free.
 

Mad Maggie

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"I know, Cantallo! But we have to disable the arch ship's point defenses. May the Emperor protect." The handsome pilot peeled off in her own fighter, followed by two of her compatriots as they blitzed towards the monstrous, spike covered battlecruiser. Harrowing explosions rocked the air around them as the pilots bravely dodged debris and enemy fighters.

Mirala leaned over the datapad, watching intently at the latest episode of Attack Run she'd had loaded on it with something approaching interest on her placid face. Then a loud crunching bang sounded from behind the deck plating and she started, dropping the pad in her lap and sighing. Reaching down to pause the playback, she leaned back and glared lazily around the crew cabin. Most avoided her eyes, and she in turn avoided focusing too intently on them.
She stuck out for sure, and even if some of the ship ratings had given her a lustful glance (which they most likely hadn't, even if she wanted to fantasize about it), they stayed well away from her. The only person she'd been able to even talk to was that weird attendant she'd been introduced to as her contact, and he couldn't get her anything that would make this journey any easier. Besides, she remembered what "He" had said, and limited herself to the bottles of Tranq she had in her bags.

The young woman would stand out, at least amid the crew on this trade ship. She couldn't help it, but her bearing, detachedness, and ready access to some sort of recreational substance would easily mark her out as some out-of-luck highborn slumming it.
 

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The soft pop of a cork alerts anyone nearby to Narcia's presence. Assuming the hadn't already noticed the armor-clad Arbiter in their midst, reclining against the cold metal of the wall. While her armor is certainly scuffed from long-use, the emblemage and design unmistakably mark her as one of those select few who uphold the law in this vast Imperium.

Raising the bottle of Amesac to her lips, she takes a good, long swallow before resting her head back and groaning miserably. She was too damn hung-over for all this noise. Silently, she prays to the God-Emperor that this trip will soon be over.
 

Sigmund Vrell

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The most tragic part about the Brazen Sky was that it had neither the space nor the facilities to allow for proper firearm maintenance. Still, a nobleman had to keep up appearances, and this wasn’t the most spartan of conditions that he had worked under.

Charlemagne had set up a small space around himself to clean and inspect his revolver, not ignorant to the inconvenience that this was causing the rest of the rabble on the ship but certainly not caring enough to avoid it either. His gun, his beloved Carmina Gloria, was a heavily modified piece that was worth more than the lives of most of the people on board. It was his second favourite thing in existence.

After the Emperor, of course.

A custom-grip that conformed perfectly to his hand, a silencer that was perfect for dispatching upstart rivals in secrecy, a quick release mechanism that let him reload the weapon quicker than almost anyone else. It was perfect, his pride and joy.

“Sebek, was it?” Charlemagne asked without looking up from the gun, intently polishing the engraved barrel. “How did we come to hear about the… ‘incidents’ occurring here? This place is a backwater that is as likely to club an official over the head as give them information.”

Finishing up with Carmina Gloria, the highborn moved the chamber back into place with a flick of his wrist, spinning it once before sliding it into his concealed holster.

“Moreover, do the locals have any form of decency or will we need to flash steel to ensure we get to our location undisturbed?”
 

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The most tragic part about the Brazen Sky was that it had neither the space nor the facilities to allow for proper firearm maintenance. Still, a nobleman had to keep up appearances, and this wasn’t the most spartan of conditions that he had worked under.

Charlemagne had set up a small space around himself to clean and inspect his revolver, not ignorant to the inconvenience that this was causing the rest of the rabble on the ship but certainly not caring enough to avoid it either. His gun, his beloved Carmina Gloria, was a heavily modified piece that was worth more than the lives of most of the people on board. It was his second favourite thing in existence.

After the Emperor, of course.

A custom-grip that conformed perfectly to his hand, a silencer that was perfect for dispatching upstart rivals in secrecy, a quick release mechanism that let him reload the weapon quicker than almost anyone else. It was perfect, his pride and joy.

“Sebek, was it?” Charlemagne asked without looking up from the gun, intently polishing the engraved barrel. “How did we come to hear about the… ‘incidents’ occurring here? This place is a backwater that is as likely to club an official over the head as give them information.”

Finishing up with Carmina Gloria, the highborn moved the chamber back into place with a flick of his wrist, spinning it once before sliding it into his concealed holster.

“Moreover, do the locals have any form of decency or will we need to flash steel to ensure we get to our location undisturbed?”

As Charlemagne spoke up, the fawning pursuer quickly scurried closer, wringing his hands and with an ear to ear smile plastered on his face that suggested the many creases and worryingly-drawn stretch marks on his face weren't from age at all. "Ah, forgive me, honored guest," he murmured quickly, dipping his head in a quick bow. "But I'm afraid I haven't heard of any particular incidents planetside, outside of the norm for the world. 'Tis a terrible, bleak place, Iocanthos, and not much comes out that didn't go in first."

Sebek's mostly squinting eyes follow the movements of the gun very carefully for a moment, before wrenching his attention back to the acolyte directly. "Ah, and, well....the locals are..." He fidgets slightly, wringing his hands more insistently and looking pointedly away for a moment.

[Siggy, go for a Charm or an Inquiry test, at +10, to see what you can get out of Sebek on the subject. Pop whatever result you get in the OOC thread.]
 

The Future Warrior

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After what seems like a long moment, Sebek turns his eyes back to Charlemagne. "I've rarely set foot on the planet myself, mind you. But there's just the one spaceport on the whole of the planet: Port Suffering, where we'll be touching down. The door to the world, it is! There's no safe landing anywhere else, between the raiders, wind and storms, and the broken terrain." He nods sagely.

"As for the locals, well...from what I hear, most of them aren't too keen on outsiders, but shouldn't cause much in the way of trouble if you mind yourselves well." He nods quickly. "The Ashleen, though...terrible lot! They paint their faces like blue fire to ward off evil spirits, so they say, and the more rash and impulsive among them would as soon gut you as look at you. The one constant is that they all value bullets more than gold" He pauses for a moment, showing a somewhat crooked-toothed grin. "Between you and me, sir....I think even the Administratum sees Iocanthos as a sort of punishment posting, if you know what I mean."

And then he looks both ways, as if fearing being overheard, before leaning in slightly and dropping his voice. "And do forgive me for saying so, honored guest, but...you see, no one goes to Iocanthos, sir. Not by choice, at least...unless they have some 'hard business', if you catch my drift." His eyes twinkle as he straightens up, clasping his hands together. "Rather like you and your compatriots, I should think. Not that I pretend to know who you are or what you're about, of course...but I think we understand each other, yes?"
 

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To say that Noel wasn't paying attention was simultaneously understatement, and overstatement. The young (in comparison to others!) mechanicus hadn't exactly been keen on coming on this mission in the first place, given the rather tight limitations placed upon him by both the Inquisitor, and the Magos that Noel ultimately listened to. The cause of immediate distress however had been the sorry state of the ship, and being nearly immediately told 'no' when an offer was extended to perform some muchly needed maintenance/upgrades. As such, onlookers could safely assume that the soft, RGB glow around Noel's eyes and ears were to tune out the outside world and keep the viewed videos private. However, a more careful look (as in more than just a passing glance) would reveal that the end of one of the mechadendrites was slowly panning back and forth, storing both video and audio for Noel to peruse at their own leisure.

Upon mention of details of the mission itself though, Noel would begin parsing out the needed information, actively holding the screen of the data-slate slightly to the left so the impromptu pillow in the form of 'Guardsman I put implants in' could also see the information. Sure, it might have been meant to be a private conversation, but the smaller framed mechanicus would justify the action as something any curious onlooker might have heard. Please ignore that they are not actually close by. Besides, was it not their sworn duty to... make sure that pistol was safe? After all, barring possibly themselves, and the assassin beneath them, it was likely the most valuable thing here!

'I suppose you would miss your owner too, wouldn't you, my dear?' The thought passed through Noel's mind, being noted to show some favoritism towards Charlemagne, if only for the sake of the spirit of the man's firearm.
 

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Mirala flicked her eyes over from her bunk towards Sebek and the other individuals dotting the singular open spaced bunk. Of course, the red robed Mechanicus adept was easily pinged as one of her team, as well as the individual cuddling with them. The girl stared, unable to help herself, piercing eyes watching the cyborg as their implants began to rust and drop out of their sockets, metal flaking and disintegrating before Mirala's eyes as the metallic countenance formed into a silently screaming skull, their bunkmate soon a desiccated corpse...

She shook her head, the vision clearing as soon as she moved her gaze to another person. The noble waving his armament for everyone to see. Apparently she was the only one who had paid attention during the training and briefing course. But then again, the Inquisitor had implied he'd put her curriculum together personally, and she hadn't seen any other fresh recruits go through it with her. In any case, she squinted towards the fancily dressed one currently and visibly blowing their cover and coughed, watching in silence as his handsome face went sodden, water logged tissues bloating as his eyes spiralled with blood, another horrible vision of ruin that graced her every waking moment, aside from when she was reading or watching recorded pict-casts. She clutched her dataslate in one hand and tucked it back into her coat.

Reaching down to her pockets for a small bottle, she uncorks it and downs the amber colored syrup with a grimace, breathing and repeating mantras in her mind. Noticing the other drinker sticking to the corners, she slowly and easily made her way across the metal grating and raised her bottle. "Faith blossoms among the flames." She says in a smooth monotone, watching the Arbiter's reaction for a response to one of their warband's code phrases. Narcia seemed to be one of the more relatable acolytes on this mission, and the serving of Tranq that Mirala had just downed helped curb the effect of her witch's curse. The arbiter's face merely became speckled in blood, with burned out eye sockets. Only for a moment or so before Mirala closed her eyes and felt the numbness bless her, and then it was as unimportant as the color of the deckplating.
 

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Initially, Mirala's words elicit only a blank stare from the Arbiter. A slow blinking of the eyes as Narcia took in the details of the person before her. Once fine, her clothing was smudged and worn ragged in places. Ruddy cheeks and dilated eyes, the tell-tale signs of Tranq use, though she would have known that anyway, since she'd literally just watched her take a swig of the stuff. High-cheek bones and a lithe, thought well-proportioned frame.

A former noble, then. Or someone pretending to status they were not born into. She had met her fair share of both. Young noble men and women, cast out from their families for some past grievance, and shipped away to the penal colony to no longer be an eyesore to their betters. And scummers who'd gotten a bit of fame and wealth under their gruddy fingers and thought themselves Princes of the Prison.

But this woman, Narcia could sense, was neither of these things. Perhaps she had merely fallen onto hard times and was hoping a stint working under an Inquisitor would turn her fortunes around. Or maybe she was one of those strange types who got a cheap thrill from slumming it with the lower classes. In the end, Narcia decided it didn't really matter. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled free a pack of lho-sticks and, placing one to her lips, lit it. Her response only came after a long, deep drag of sweet smoke.

"Only the sinful reject true words," she said. It was the only one of the phrases she'd bothered to memorize before boarding. The remainder lay in her dataslate, but she had read over them once or twice, at least enough to be able to recognize them when spoken. Without waiting for her companions response, Narcia rose and laid a hand upon Mirala's shoulder.

"I am Narcia Fleming," she stated bluntly, looking Mirala in the eye before letting her hand fall back to her side. "Who are you?"
 

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Velma, briefly popping out from her half-comatose status as pillow, scanned the room with wide eyes upon hearing Sebek's words. To her, this was familiar - her first memories were on a ship, after all - but she had been decisively more interested in watching the dataslate and making tiny adjustments to the positions of her equipment - something more meant to keep her own energy in check than for any extra convenience - as she looked through the mission details.

"So the Ashleen prefer solid rounds rather than las weaponry?!" She will finally speak up, looking up from the peeked-upon dataslate to be invested in the conversation, casually walking over with Noel rather haplessly carried along in her arms."or do bullets just have cultural significance? Do they have any particular tactics or strategies? how do they organize...!" Velma would blurt out with a halfway-frantic pace, before taking a deep breath. "My apologies. I know questions are hard to answer when they're not one at a time." She adds with a blink, looking like someone who's just come up for air from a long swim, before regulating her breathing. "It would simply be helpful to know."
 
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The Future Warrior

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"I...." Sebek slowly seemed to come to a pause, blinking several times as he wrung his hands nervously at Velma's barrage of questions. "I'm...afraid I don't really know anything about that, honored guest," he finally managed to say, his smile growing somewhat strained and very obviously nervous. "I very rarely set foot on the planet at if I can help it, myself, and when I do....it isn't for long, and scarcely outside of the port itself. If you want to know more about the Ashleen I'm afraid you'd need to ask someone more familiar with the planet, once we touch down."
 

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The worlds abound continued to swirl in the thoughts of the Sanctioned Psyker, her cold and neutral face served to emulate the lack of feeling she found within her chest. She'd stood there in the lack of light caused by disrepair of one of the few areas on the Brazen Sky to be affected by such neglect. A mere flicker of color occasionally striking her figure in the darkness. Her hand pressing her staff against the flooring to offer more balance as she leaned back against the closest wall.

She'd resolved to introduce herself when all of her comrades had joined on the ship. The intricacies of which mattered little to her. Save that it could, and would carry them to their destination. A huff of air from her nostrils as she stepped out from the shadow, her staff thumping down lightly against the floor with each of the two steps she took.

"Pleasure to meet you all, I apologize for my lack of introduction until this moment."

In the light, her features were rather... nice. Which was to say, her long eyelashes, and platinum hair contrasted starkly against her emerald eyes. Uncaring, yet with the subtle look of annoyance in contradiction.

After a moment, she continued. "I am the Sanctioned Psyker here to ensure your safety, and should the emperor will it, the destruction of any who impede our mission."

A curt nod from the girl, implying that she was then done with introductions, was followed thereafter by a crane of the neck to Sebeck, before turning her body a moment later.

"How long until we touch down, may I ask?"
 

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"Ah, yes, until touchdown..." Sebek wrings his hands momentarily, looking aside. "If I may, allow me to go and check with the crew about the status of our journey. It shouldn't be long, now..." Sinking into a deep bow, the purser quickly excuses himself, shuffling out of the crew bay backward and then vanishing around the edge of the doorway. The noise of his scurrying, robed legs is only almost entirely drowned out by the noise of the Brazen Sky's lurching and shuddering.
 

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Noel doesn't terribly mind being simply picked up, of course. The concern was mostly passed to the durability of the guardsman's fresh cybernetics, as the mechanicus wasn't sure how well she was adjusted to her new limbs just yet. It would seem as though their concerns weren't needed though, even as they ran diagnostic checks upon Velma. As for Sebek... it wasn't terribly surprising that he didn't know many answers about the surface. And likewise, it wasn't surprising that the still mentally recovering Velma would barrage him with questions. Noel would lightly tap-tap a finger upon her arm to signify for her to place them down.

Yet it was the psyker's introduction that has the red-robed one curious. Never before had they seen someone who was.. two completely separate things combined into one. On one hand, she bore that typical, almost arrogant manner of speech that had been almost expected from psykers they had met before. Yet that ever so slight attention to personal details would indicate to them that she still had some presence of her own humanity within her. And as an extra bonus, the white hair stood out intensely. Aside from the Sororitas, it was an extremely rare hair color. Perhaps the result of psionic awakening? Perhaps from the tortuous journey to Terra? For being direct neighbors of Noel's home of Mars, Terra seemed a completely different beast, after all.

"Greetings, well-minded one." Noel would finally speak, an androgynous, auto-tuned tone being spoken. It was highly likely to not be their true voice, but still how they would introduce themselves. And with a small measure of politeness (as taught by the Magos) Noel would offer a little bow of courtesy. As typical of their kind, it would come off slightly mechanical and almost too robotic, but enough fleshy bits remained to show that Noel at least intended for it to be 'nice'. A slight, upward curving of the eyes to show a more happy face to people.. and desperately trying to block out the scream from the machine in need of their mending hands.
 

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The acolytes slowly drew together into a more cohesive unit as Mirala introduced herself to the arbiter, turning slightly and gesturing towards the others. Raising her voice slightly, she adopted a tone matching the more lofty intonations of Charlemagne. "I am Mirala de Morada, of the Morada Mercantile Dynasties of Terminus. You may address me however you like. Much like my fellows, I am quite useful when highborn status would be a consideration."

This was going to be hard. Mirala braced herself and looked at the sanctioned psyker. The tides of the warp tugged at the edges of her vision, and she took another quick sip of her flask as her opposite number's very being wavered insubstantially in her mind before suppurating to ashes. "I have also been ordered to assist you in any way possible. Our mutual acquaintance will vouch for my experience in the matter, even if I do not.....dare...to claim your status." Her voice was low enough to not draw too much attention, but hopefully that would have to suffice for a confession of her own unsanctioned status for now.

It wouldn't do to loudly announce such in plain terms amidst the crew of the vessel, but she figured at least the visibly learned one of their troupe could use their own gifts to confirm her devoutness. "None of you need fear my loyalty or devotion...in truth, it is a freedom to be here with all of you now."
 

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Upon hearing the name of her new companion, Narcia made a mental note to do a background check on her later. She didn't expect to find much, but it never hurt to see what the nobility forgot to scrub, or her... employer might have missed. At the moment though, it wouldn't do to whip out her dataslate right in front of the woman. And, besides, she had more pressing matters to attend to.

Such as this conversation. Apparently, this newcomer had a way of figuring out who was a member of their Cell. Or perhaps she had simply overheard their use of the pass-phrases. In either case, it seemed this Psyker was also a member of their troupe. Narcia had never been very comfortable around Psykers. It was risky business messing around with the Warp, though at least this one was Sanctioned. Maybe that meant they had better control of themselves. The Arbiter would never forget the time she'd seen a man get twisted into a pretzel because the local boss wanted to have his own pet Psyker.

Stepping up beside Mirala, Narcia gave Kell a curt nod, introducing herself. "Narcia Fleming," she said, with neither preamble nor pleasantry. She might have to work with this woman, but she hadn't been ordered to pretend to like it. "I believe we're supposed to have three other members... have either of you figured out who they are?"

Lowering her voice, and darting a glance in the direction of Sebek, she continues.

"Though... those three stand out to me," she says in a whisper, flicking her eyes at Noel, Velma, and Charlemagne. "They have more... energy than the other drek I've seen on board. Perhaps we should go see..."
 

The Future Warrior

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After what seemed like only a very short while post Sebek's departure, the entire ship gives a rather jarring and sudden lurch. A sharp wrenching sensation rocks the entire ship, and the incessant shuddering and screeching emanating from every surface abates somewhat. The sensation was clear, to anyone who had made warp jumps before: the Brazen Sky had finally dropped out of warp, and back to real space.

Almost as if on cue, moments later the pale face of the purser, Sebek, came back into view peering around the edge of the doorway to the crew hold. He smiles warmly, or at least as much as he can manage, as he dips his head and steps out fully into the doorway, clutching a dataslate in both hands. "Honored guests, we have nearly arrived at our destination," he announces. "It is time, now. Please pack your gear and belongings, and make your way to forward hold 2/DZ015 for debarkation to Iocanthos."
 
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