41K RPG : Into the Eye.

[Cynical Cat]

The captain of the monitor made up his mind near Ophelia VII"s outer layer of orbital fortresses. The Eternal Will was ordered to heave to and stand by for boarding.

Jolan nodded to his captain-navigator and Kay touched the vox control. "Ecclesiarchy system frigate Vigilance we here and obey. Firing retros and killing forward velocity. We are standing by for your boarding party."

Ten minutes latter the Ecclesiarchy ship was pulling alongside the Will. A boarding pinnace was detached and connected to the Will's number two airlock. The groaning of heavy machinery could be heard through the hull as the boarding corridor was extended. The airlock doors mated and steam from the hydrolics blasted through. A moment latter a squad of Frateris Militia entered the ship.

They wore short red robes over dark jumpsuits. Aquila symbols were tattooed on tonsured forheads or hung from chains around their necks. Long knives and truncheons hung on their belts and their hands gripped short frame autoguns.

The leader was a squat deacon with burning eyes. He eyed them all balefully. "We are here to inspect your ship."

"Of course," said Jolan Gix. He wore cream pants tucked into knee hight boots and a blazingly bright scarlett coat decorated with gold over a purple shirt. "I am Modan Gissad, master of this vessel." He pointed over to the scowling form of Hethor D'eckor. "Don't mind my bodyguard Heeth. Search away." Gix waved a silk hankerchef.

The Ecclesiarchy troops moved past. Hethor sneered as they past. Amateurs. They would find nothing incriminating or revealing about the ship. Severa might have found something, but not these clowns. The Holy Terrors were only good for catching bullets intended for more valuable soldiers.

[Cynical Cat]

The Frateris Militia wasn't interested in secret compartments with weapons and armour. Cargo holds full of conterfit relics and unexised goods were their concern. After a marginally competent search, the Frateris departed.

The Will was allowed to pass through an assume a position in high orbit among the pilgrim ships. Everyone began their final preperations before taking the lander down to the surface.

Gix had chosen black body glove with armour weave and was considering which robe to wear over it when his door was buzzed. "Enter."

The door slid open and Iriza Vess slipped in. The petite astropath looked down at the floor. "Inquisitor, I would like to beg a favor," she said quietly.

"Of course Iriza," Jolan replied with a smile. "You can look at me, you know." She was still so shy, after all these years.

She raised her head, her black hair framing her pale face. "I would like to go down and see the planet inquisitor. If it is permitted."

"This is business, not a pilgrimage," he said.

"I know," she replied. "I spent extra time with weapons practice this week. Please inquisitor."

"Of course." Iriza was meek, but she would fight as well as she could when she had to. She had left a few bodies behind her in his service. "We would be delighted to have you with us."

[Cynical Cat]

Jolan Gix and his companions walked over cobblestones worn smooth by countless feet. He wore a thick burgundy robe over his body glove and weapon belt. His rosette was hidden within. Melina wore the black gown and veil worn by women in mourning on countless worlds and stuck close beside him. Iriza wore a plain white robe.

Such modesty ill suited Lydia Meradin's nature. The tall woman had managed restraint in the form of a dark overcoat over thickly woven (and armour reinforced) tunic and pants in her usual shade of black, which contrasted starkly against her pale skin. Her personalized gun was strapped to her thigh and leather cowling shrouded her weapon glove. He blue eyes flash and her lips were curled into a scowl. Her short cut hair was as dark as her manner. Jolan Gix's interrogator's Cryptia code name was Storm for a reason.

Hethor D'eckor wore well worn jacket, tunic, and pants. His current favorite pair of boots rounded out appearances. His mesh armour undershirt and refractor field harness went on beneath it, as did his power blade and a hell pistol. He was ready for trouble.

Gard Vikal wore a plain green robe and augmentic spectacles. A small laspistol was concealed on his person, but if he had to fight, they would truly be desperate.

Lastly came Domina, of the Sisters of Battle. She was as tall as Lydia and even more muscular. She carried no weapon and wore a simple long white tunic and sandles. He limbs were marked with scars and corded with muscle. Her hair was cut as short as Lydia's, but simply hung around her ears in a blonde helmet. She looked around in constant awe.

None of them were exactly ordinary, but none of them were different enough to stand out against the varied ranks of humanity teaming over Ophelia VII"s surface. They blended into the crowd and moved slowly towards their destination, awed by the marvels of engineering constructed in the name faith. Even Gard Vikal was touched. The entire planet was a monument to the glories of the human soul, human endeavour, and human faith. Here, in this place, the grandeur of the Imperium and its Emperor were celebrated on a scale that dwarfed the imagination.

[Cynical Cat]

Wailing errupted on the steps of one of the countless cathedrals. Jolan turned to look. A procession of white robed suplicants were arguing with the red robed minders of the cathedral doors. The content of the arguement was unknown, but the tenor was not. It was ugly and getting worse.

One of the supplicants shouted something in an incomprehensible dialect of Low Gothic. The pilgrims surged forward. The doormen put their brass capped steel staves to good use. Bodies of pilgrims slumped, to be trampled by their surging brothers.

A siren went off. "Let's move," Gix said. The inquisitor's retinue began to push their way through the crowd, away from the new born riot.

[Josh]

Prius came accompanied solely by Zala. His usual retinue of Deathwatch and Stormtroopers remained aboard ship, taunt and ready for action.

Dressed in the robes of common pilgrims, they flitted their way through the masses with quiet purpose.

[Pcm979]

Using their ship's former identity as a Rogue Trader, it was easy to masquerade as a ship on the last leg of a years-long round tour out of Imperial space, stopping for supplies and shore leave. The Stellar Concorde went ahead of the two-kilometre long Trader and landed on Ophilia VII's surface hours before the Dominor.

Pater and his core crew, not including the Deathwatch, who remained on the Dominor, headed for the area's main basilica ostensibly to pay their respects to the Emperor and any Patron Saint of space travel Ophilia had a shrine for.

The group consisted of Pater, Gyllia Xyng with a gaggle of Servo-Skulls, Anghel in his high-grav exosuit, the Vindicare assassain Deuce, Lillith and Joritu from the Sisters of Battle and the A.I. Byron, masquerading as a servo-skull.

Deuce and Lillith split off from the group and stayed a little ahead and above, while Gyllia sent her servo-skulls in a random-walk pattern around them. The Inquisitor had an effective mobile screen in case anything unforeseen happened. Unlikely, but you don’t last 60 years in His Majesty’s Most Holy Inquisition without at least a modicum of paranoia.

[SirNitram]

As the riot began to expand, the Exile-Captain found himself having to shove and push to get away from it. As he had feared; it was like a real melee: those far from it were drawn closer and began to expand the fight. He had seen Orkz manage to keep their cool waiting for a turn at the fight longer! Not that his size was much of a help here; he was forced to grab and pull the simple robes closer to himself, as insults were hurled at the 'Ogryn'.

On the plus side, he made it almost all the way free of the current crowd without incident. The down side, of course, was the inclusion of the word 'almost'. There is little mistaking an Astartes when you get a good look at them, and when the hood was yanked back by an angry pilgrim, about to hurl a punch at an abhuman, it was now the centre of another unusual event.

Oh dear, was the resounding thought.

[Pcm979]

Pater knelt in front of the gigantic statue of the God-Emperor triumphing at the Battle of Ophilia, the centrepiece of the district's Basilica. Ringing the walls of the immense structure were statues to the Saints, the air thick with the smell of insense and the devotional cleanser the worshippers were obliged to scrub the effigies with.

His retinue peeled off to pray in front of their relevant Saints after prostrating themselves before His image. Pater scanned the room until his gaze settled on the plainest niche in the building; Lena's, the statue and fresco detailing her achievements left unfinished until her death.

He scrutinised the alcove, eyes settling on an amazingly well-concealed speaker set in the fresco. He knelt towards it and said clearly, "Pater Novum."

After a short pause, there was an almost inaudible buzz. Pater smiled and left. The little machine would inform Lena of his arrival soon enough.

[Cynical Cat]

The Cathedrals steps were slick with blood. The new born mob howled and beat on the door. Alarm sirens blazed as the doors to chapels and shrines slammed close. Shouts of anger and dismay came from the pilgrims. They had crossed the stars, at no small expense. They had lead lives that were mostly pious. Had they not changed their money at userous rates? Had they not kept the faith of the Emperor in their hearts? How was this treatment just?

Several patrols of Frateris Militia merged together, forming a very nervous block by the surging and angry crowd. A deacon barked at them to disperse. Nervous Frateris soldiers clutched lascarbines and short framed autoguns. Then it happened. The deacon overplayed his hand and rebucked the crowd as seditious and borderline heretical, condemning them and ordering their submission.

Many were cowed. A few shouted denials back. One man stepped forward and bellowed defiance. He had not come one hundred light years and spent most of his savings to be beaten like a vagabond and condemned like a crimminal.

A nervous Frateris soldier's finger clenched on the trigger of his autogun. Bright blossoms of blood errupted on the speaker's chest. He fell back and the crowd howled in rage.

[Pcm979]

"Pater." Gyllia's voice floated over the vox link. "There's chatter on the militia frequencies. A disturbance in one of the cathedrals."

"There's more to it than that." Half a century of working together had given them an almost empathic connection; She wouldn't bother him with what amounted to gossip.

"Yes, there is. Appearently there's a Space Marine there. Deathwatch."

Pater's ears pricked up. "Tell me more."

[Pcm979]

"Pater." Gyllia's voice floated over the vox link. "There's chatter on the militia frequencies. A disturbance in one of the cathedrals."

"There's more to it than that." Half a century of working together had given them an almost empathic connection; She wouldn't bother him with what amounted to gossip.

"Yes, there is. Appearently there's a Space Marine there. Deathwatch."

Pater's ears pricked up. "Tell me more."

[The Necrontyr Messenger]

Lena sighed a little as one of her glorified flunkies, a revered canoness of some minor order whose name she couldn’t recollect intruded upon her sanctuary. “Yes?â€Â

[Josh]

The need to evade the riot and response validated his not bringing an entourage. He and Zala slid away, utilizing the cover provided by the riot to move toward the objective. Like shadows, they flitted among the Frateris. They quickly incapacitated a pair who stumbled over them, leaving them unconscious in their wake.

Prius Ristani. Subtle.

[SirNitram]

As the riot swept forward ahead of him, Malkamar felt deathly exposed. Not because he was identified as a Space Marine; that was bad enough, but he knew his armour was far away, and his blessed Boltguns, his sacred weapons which were his tool for all things, were with it.

He stood, clad in little but normal clothes, and surrounded by angry, shoving, shouting people. One of them was shoving his chest, demanding he apprehend the Frateris militia; they were preventing the pilgrims from reaching their holy objective. At least, that's what he could make out; another pair had begun clinging to one leg and praying to the Emperor that this Astartes was here not to punish any of their group.

It had, in short, all cascaded out of his tiny scope of experience. It wasn't until the gas was descending on the square that he rediscovered his mental balance. His tongue tasted the air; stun gas. Which meant...

Needless the say, the specialized lungs of an Astartes were untouched by the gas. The graviton guns, on the other hand, were a little more inhibiting....

[Pcm979]

"The Sororitas channels just lit up like candles, and there's movement towards the cathedral."

"Then we'll have to go the long way 'round. Is there another route?"

"Uploading it to your auspex now."

[Cynical Cat]

"Inquisitor," said Vikal, "the Sororitas are about to hit this place hard. Stun gas for starters, followed up by nets and graviton guns. Gravitons guns," he said with emphasis, "for crowd control. Will wonders never cease."

"The Ecclesiarch has deep pockets and an in with Adraxian tech," responded Gix as he shoved filter plugs into his nostrils. "Lets get out of here before we get gassed or the riot spreads."

A ripple of psychic malaise and unnease preceded Jolan and his companions, making working their way through the crowd easier.

[The Necrontyr Messenger]

The modified land speeder skimmed the roves of various chapels and preceptories, a gift from the Howling Griffons chapter in thanks for assistance rendered out on the eastern fringe to Inquisitor Jaenta Hendal. She herself, standing on the back of the vehicle, checked her armament, graceful and small weapons of an earlier age, from the designs of Adraxis. A sleek, black plasma pistol, which had so far yet to burn her, and a longer double handed power-blade hilt.

Playing impatiently with a jokaero designed needle ring, she leaned forwards, urging the pilot to increase speed. The hover platform was somewhat cramped with her own small reunite as well as the Saint’s bodyguards. Crowds of pilgrims gawped at the modified, strictly, to Jaenta’s delight, against the commandments of the Adeptus Mechanicus, vehicle soaring overhead.

The affected cathedral, unique even among the countless others, loomed ahead like a landed starship, which to be fair, one of two of its compatriots truly were. Clouds of chocking gas filled the air, and Jaenta glanced down at dozens of Soroitas rhino transports blocking every road, rounding up offenders already pinned down onto the floor in nets… Here and there batons were being used to subdue those who still resisted.

Powering down the engines, the vehicle began to descend and Lena hopped over its side, coasting down to the ground on a sable cloak, briefly transfigured into the guise of radiant golden wings of an eagle. Her bodyguards, led by a taller sister whose armour bore simple gold fleur-de-lis on otherwise featureless white ceramite, sprang after her, finally, Jaenta followed, accompanied by her smaller collection of followers. Asabaè coughed and staggered a little, unprotected, unlike the others, from the still-clearing stun gas…

Led by the saint, whom Jaenta presumed was looking for her… guests, the party wandered among the chaos.

[Josh]

His remaining eyebrow rose. Clever. One would expect no less of the Saint, though. He signed for Zala to wait for a moment for the gas to clear. It would bother his augmetic lungs not at all, but she was still a creature of weak flesh.

Once the built-in chemical analysis cogitator informed him that the stun gas levels were down to tolerable levels, he signed for her to follow as he stepped from the wings to approach the Saint.

[Cynical Cat]

Gix watched as the Ecclesiarchy troops contained and surpressed the riot. Very well handled, with a minimum of deaths. One more advantage of archeotech. He motioned his people forward. A quick display of his rosette allowed them inside the perimeter and into the sea of subdued pilgrims.

[Bratty]

Zala has weaved her way through the shadows with greater ease then her Inquisitor. Hers is the way of subtlety; it is natural for her. The Inquisitor seems to prefer the more head on approach. There is nothing better or worse to either format. Both have their place.

She waits until she sees the signal from the holy man, Prius. She moves with deftness from the shadows, staying to the left of Prius. Her eyes move swiftly among the masses for the one he calls "The Saint" .

[Cynical Cat]

Not many were standing besides the sororitas troopers. Two people caught the eyes of Danell Keys. "Jolan," he said. "To the left. The man and the woman behind him."

Gix turned his head and then pulled back his cowl, allowing others to see him clearly. His face hadn't changed much over the years. "Prius Ristani and a companion." Gix's entourage relaxed slightly. Keys nodded slightly as he evaluated the woman.

Hethor didn't relax. "Fuckin' commissars," he spat.

[Josh]

His enhanced augmetics picked up the sound. Sergeant D'eckor was as insolent as ever. That Gix tolerated the insolence was his own right as Inquisitor. He pulled back his own hood, revealing a face even more battered and worn by the years than when last they met, and approached the Sororitas. A hand slide from his cloak, revealing the Inquisitorial electoo.

"Jolan," he said, inclining his head respectfully.

[Cynical Cat]

"Prius," he said politely, with an inclination of his head. He let none of his skepticism about Ristani's suitability show on his face. "It seems to be our destiny to meet over bodies. As you can see, the only things that has changed about Sergeant D'eckor is the tattoo on his forhead and the length of his kill list."

[Bratty]

She does not gesture to Prius, getting a sensation of a standoff of sorts, respectful as it may seem. On her world, the billow woles would stand off right before mating season or right before or after a hunt. Perhaps that is what these creatures, these Inquisitors do now. Standoff before a hunt. Perhaps it is just strange aliens on a strange world. Either way, Yar has a purpose for them all being here. She is and will be patient, and all will be revealed in time, as it always is.

She inclines her head in respectful gesture, mimicking Prius' and assuming this is the way of greeting among equals for those of Yar within their gathering worlds. She takes in their scent without their knowledge or permission, and observes the subtleties often lost in communication without sound.

[Josh]

Fifty years before, Prius Ristani would have responded with a pious bit about the will of the Emperor. But now, he tempered that with more pragmatism.

"If history is any guide," he said, gesturing to the plaza. "This is merely the prelude."

D'eckor was irrelevant to him, by and large. He had faith that Gix's tools would serve as required. Beyond that, he cared less. Reputation, nickname and history aside, he had left Commissar Ristani behind at the Schola. The breaking of insolent Guardsmen was no longer his business.