41K RPG : Into the Eye

[Cynical Cat]

Lydia took it and pretended to read it. She didn't need to look at it to know its contents. "Thank you," she said. "Have your servitors stack the cargo over there," she said pointing to a corner of the bay.

[Pcm979]

The featureless Mechanicus inclined what passed for its head (more accurately an extendable sensor pod) and chittered to the Servitors, moving out of the way as they unloaded the materials. There was a smell many in the Imperium would be unaccustomed to- It could only be described as... Newness. The Saurian Techpriest sunk onto it's haunches, a series of clunks indicating that it possessed at least four more limbs.

"I am empowered to offer you one of these Thunderhawks." It rasped, crouched there like some horrific robed gargoyle.

[Cynical Cat]

"On behalf of Inquisitor Gix I accept with gratitutde," said Lydia. The diplomatic answer was the right one. Gix had said the mission was all and she wasn't going to fail him.

[Pcm979]

"Lord Novum" despite the rasping, mechanical quality of the vox the name was clearly said with unusual deference "Offers further restitutions. Servitors can be constructed to your specifications if you require it." The metal beast continued, steam wafting from under its robes as it shifted.

[Cynical Cat]

"At present," she replied, "there is no need." She wondered where Novum had found the time to subvert a sub cult of the insular Adeptus Mechanicus while Tyranid hunting. It probably fell into his lap. She pushed such thoughts back. "Convey our thanks to Lord Novum."

[Pcm979]

"I shall." The Mechanicus rose and warbled to the Servitors as they finished their task. They entered one of the Thunderhawks, leaving the other vacant. Clomping towards the Interrogator, the Priest bowed, revealing two reverse-kneed, clawed robotic feet. "Convey Lord Novum's sincere apologies to your Master."

[Cynical Cat]

"I will," she replied. "Have a safe journey."

--------------------------------------------------------------

"Inquisitor," said the medicae, "how may I be of service?"

"I wish to examine the prisoner," Jolan Gix replied.

"As you wish inquisitor, but it is my duty to remind youthat the xenos has recently been treated for rather severe injuries and will not be as durable as normal."

"Noted," said Jolan. "Now let me see it."

[Pcm979]

Lillith stood in front of the mirror, examining herself.

The girl from Adraxis was long gone; Now in her mid sixties, Lillith was five feet nine inches tall, lean, well muscled, and heavily scarred. She regularly bleached her hair Sororitas white, but her highly advanced regeneration powers stopped her from accepting a devotional tattoo for any length of time. Every scar was a keeper, like the series that criscrossed her body where her bones had been repeatedly reinforced with adamantine compounds.

"So Lord Talstrem is alive." She mused. "Troubling."

"Wasn't he the one that brought you into the Inquisition in the first place?" Deuce asked, leaning against their bed. "Also 'bout this close to a Saint?" He held his fingers apart minutely. "Isn't it good he's back, then?"

"He died." Lillith said simply, turning and looking at the Assassain. She took his breath away, as usual. "People should stay dead." She crossed the room and embraced him, their white heads almost seeming like a mirror image. "Lord Gix is dabbling in Heresy." She said dangerously.

"Pater's got the situation in hand." Deuce replied, sinking back onto the bed. "He always does."

----------

The Inquisitor moved through the Fabricatory like a ghost, his eye shut and his optic disabled. His feet always fell at just the right time, in the right place; As a servo-arm moved aside, onto a swiftly-passing bridge. He walked along walls and ceilings with equal ease, through poisonous clouds and showers of molten metal. Strange, hunched figures scuttled out of his way and bowed as he passed, his metal hand occasionally running over a metal snout in what could almost pass for affection. Faint, silvery lines glowed from under his skin and loose machinery clattered and rustled of their own accord where he walked. It had a strange beauty to it, as well as a strange menace. Paternoster Maximillian Novum was at home.

[Typhonis]

Nathan went over the data reports one more time.His eyes scanning over the text as he acclimated himself to this era , like he had done some 50 years earlier.

He was slowly building up his physical reserves and working out the kinks in his body. between exercising, weapons and melee traing, relearning and such , he had at most 5 hours a day down time . He knew the doctor was a bit worried about the pace he was setting but he knew that they didn't have the time for luxury since the hammer would fall soon and his help would be needed.

He would rest when this was over and not before. He hasd messed up once already and would not do so again.

[The Necrontyr Messenger]

The exact nature of the chamber in which the eldar 'witch' was being kept was very different from that in which Gix had earlier been interred. Firstly, it was more akin to a surgery - with all the horrors that entailed - than a gaol. The eldar 'subject' was surrounded by mystic wards, inscribed on tablets of marble in sacred ungents, set up by the Lord Inquisitor's minions - while he had seemed completely unprotected from Gix, in this case, it appeared his minions were taking no chances.

Wires and cables extended into the 'beast's' broken body, and led to entirely seperate devices. One, holding a jar of bubbling red liquid, the toxic blood of the eldar, seemed designed to prolong the captive's life, and agony. The other was a more familiar type of device, a rather effective looking explicator's set, trailing cables attached to lance like needles penetrating the already abused nerve clusters of the eldar's joints.

A transparent tube, flecked with blood, pierced the creature's neck, a brutally crude tracheoptomy, typical of the Imperium. Elsewhere - it would perhaps interest Gix to know that someone in Vidor's retunite was clearly a little radical - spikes went into the eldar's pale neck, usurping the vocal nerves, and linking them to a mechanicus model vocoder, which would normally be grafted onto the shattered face of such a victim, but the tech-priest who had installed it had clearly decided it wasn't worth the effort - the subject was unlikely to live long enough to need a mobile unit.

The pnematic hiss, and occasional beep of life support equipment were all that occupied the room as Gix arrived, the medicae having no desire to spend their time in the xenos witch's company.

[Cynical Cat]

Jolan stepped into the room and carefully looked around. "I hope you will forgive my accent, but I rarely get the opporunity to speak your tongue," he said in Eldar. "Did your Farseer predict this end for you? Dying without your soulstone, strapped to a Mon-kheigh torture machine? Perhaps he did. Perhaps that was the point, to spur my interest in the eldar so that one hundred years from now I might do something that benefits your people. Perhaps he lied to you and sent you here to lose your soul to the Great Enemy."

"But perhaps that wasn't what he saw. At any rate, you have failed. No one will believe any reason you give to kill me. From you they will expect lies and half truths. After all, you could very well have been sent here to prevent a catastrophic defeat of the eldar due to my intervention. That remains a strong possibility."

"There is, however, one way you could hope to succeed. If you are here because of some action I might commit in the future, you could persuade me not to do it. It is possible that an action which would damage the eldar could also hurt the Imperium. Of course, you would have to convince me you're not lying. Or you could die a failure."

[The Necrontyr Messenger]

The eldar replied in high gothic, she felt no need to encourage Jolan in his mangling (though it really was quite good, there were none in the Imperium who could truly speak it well) of her langugage. "So? You want me to tell you what we have seen, then?" she asked.

"Very well... Do you really think that your plans are going to benefit anyone? Luring the illMureead into the 'Eye of Terror'" the snide laugh that grated from the crude cogitator was distorted, of course, into a 'het-het-het' some dark alien humour amused the creature before Gix, "You will give the denizens there access to thousnands of new ships, and trillions of new warriors. You will turn two threats into one, greater than the sum of its parts by a long way..."

[Cynical Cat]

"An interesting supposition," replied Jolan. "It does, however, ignore the resistance to outside warp influences of the Hive Fleets. Why would the power of the Hive Minds and the Shadow of the Warp fail?"

[The Necrontyr Messenger]

The creature was silent, apparently stunned. Finally, it rallied, "Do you have any idea about how the Eye of Terror works, human?

"Just trust that we know better, and if you really must have evidence, observe the records of your Iron Warriors space marines flying around in a corrupted hive-ship."

[Cynical Cat]

"Ahh," said Jolah. "Evidence." He smiled. "Thank you. I will consider it." He turned and left, resealing the door and making sure the security precautions were intact. He touched his vox button. "Gard."

The medicae responded. "Jolan?"

"I need you to monitor the condition of the eldar prisoner. It is imparative that it not perish prematurely of its injuries. "

"Of course, Inquisitor. It will be interesting to see if there are signifigant morphilogical differences between it and the so-called "dark kin."

"Good," said Jolan. He went to check on this suppossed Iron Warrior incident.

[The Necrontyr Messenger]

Outside the Eldar's former quarters, if one happened to be walking past, one would hear a cacophony of screams more horrific than even those normally heard in the company of Inquisitors. One would also see the leader of Aeris' thugs stumbling into the corridor, bleeding from a dozen perforations in his armoured midsection, thrashing as if in the throes of demonic posession.

After about half a minute of this agonising display, he stopped, red fluid leaking from his joints, his limbs becoming liquid, as though melted. Finally his helmetless head exploded violently, leaving a leering skull in a pool of blood. Dark figures skittered out of the doorway, and onto the high roof of the battleship's corridors.

Gix had little difficulty finding information on her story. The craft in question had been destroyed over Cadia shortly after the Black Crusade.

[Cynical Cat]

Jolan stopped and cocked his head. Something was . . . . . disturbed. Wrong. He couldn't place his finger on it. He switched on the conversion field and activated his vox. "Something's up. I don't know what. Find out what Pater and Aeris are up to. And let Ristani know." The inquisitor wandered out into the corridors, letting his precognitive abilities guide him.

[Pcm979]

Pater recieved the signal.

"Gix, Novum. Situation?" He didn't waste words.

[The Necrontyr Messenger]

It didn't take Gix long to discover that this... disturbance... whatever it was, was coming towards him. It was quite unlike anything he'd ever experienced before, it held traces of the darkness and foul determination of the worshippers of chaos, and the arrogance of the eldar could be tasted in its psycic aura, as well as the righteousness of many human psykers...

[Cynical Cat]

Jolan drew upon the power of the warp, enhancing his speed and his perceptions. Everything grewer slower and sharper. Power hissed and coiled through the warp, obediant to his whim. A shroud of telekinetic force engulfed him and silver light blazed from his eyes as his anger and frustration fueled his strength.

He could not maintain such a exercise of power forever, of course. He had his limits, but this confrontation was likely to be over before they were reached. One way or another.

[Cynical Cat]

"Alien power," he replied to Pater. "Strong and swift." Machine Empathy had never been a gift he had much talent at, despite its close association with other forms of telekinesis. Still, he had managed a basic competency at it. He sent the file to Pater. If he died here, at least the data wouldn't die with him. "The eldar fear the power of the Eye to corrupt the Tyranids." He braced himself for the whirlwind, knowing every fraction of a second of reaction time would count.

[The Necrontyr Messenger]

The Emperor walked around the corner. Or at least, a man who looked exactly like the Emperor as he had been when the image Jolan had had been recorded, dressed in voluminous golden robes. He seemed rather cheerful, whistling a tune to himself...

[Pcm979]

Well, Warp.

"Novum to Vidor, you have an intruder on your ship. Xenos, probably Eldar. I am coming over at once." The teleporters were still down; He'd get there too late to help. But he had to try.

[Cynical Cat]

Jolan Gix was an inquisitor before he was a scholar. Training that went marrow deep told him when you're expecting an enemy and see something different . . . . the best action is to kill it and employ autopsies and ferensics afterword.

Still, the incongrous appearance and behavior of the God Emperor of Mankind had an effect on Gix. He hesitated an imperceptible moment before filling the corridor with an intense blast of blue-white warp fire.

[The Necrontyr Messenger]

The 'Emperor' held up a hand, and stopped whistling as the warp fire tore up the corridor, and aimed to deflect it, it was hard to tell if he succeeded, though he certainly seemed to. He sprung on his toes, turning end over end in midair, before landing about half as far as he had been, "Are you really going to try and fight me?" he asked.