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(Treat as if posted by Archetype)
I step off the airspeeder onto the landing pad in the bustling merchantile district, followed shortly by my retinue. Our quarry was not far away, and soon he would see the price of consorting with heretics. The last view I had of the heretic Adrian Joos was through a pair of the Commissar's magnoculars. He had been boarding a train for the capital city, and was apparently alone. Despite this, I cannot assume he is indeed alone. I know Adrian had a history of decieving people. By the Throne, deception was how he came to join the Inquisition. No matter. Soon that history shall be brought to an abrupt end.
"Commissar, are you getting a reading on our prey?" I ask Commissar Van Rams as I check my wrist chronometer. Just under forty minutes until evening mass. I regret not being able to attend, then force it out of my head and onto the business at hand.
It was hard, but we managed to pull it off thanks solely to my comrade space marines help. What we did was heresy in itself, but I have already been declared a heretic by my own and by helping me even once the marine now standing at my side has done so as well. Getting a daemonhost inside a chapel is a crime in itself, but for the sake of remaining hidden from others it had to be done. Now all of us are hiding in a holy place and it kills me to do it.
Turning to my space marine companion I ask him the most important question of all, "do you see anyone that resembles her?" And wait for his answer as he scans the people attending mass. If he says yes then our time on this world may not have been a waste.
Take my love, take my land, take me to where I cannot stand; I don't care I'm still free, you can't take the sky from me.
"The difference between gods and daemons largely depends upon where one is standing at the time."- Lorgar
Member of the Fluff Masters Clan
"None sir, there is too much interference here." I scan the area quickly with my own eyes as I struggle to stuff the battered old asupex into a holder on my belt. No sign of the heretic, just common people going about thier lives. It almost makes you wonder if any of them have any idea that a dangerous Heretic is lurking in thier midsts. No..of course they don't, we're here to make sure they never do. I turn to make sure the others made it off the transport are still behind us. They are of course, and I knew they would be, but part of me can't help but to be cautious and check. We all sort of gather around Master Rammstien and wait for his orders. I have no idea where the heretic was heading but I'm sure Sir Rammstien has an idea.
Standing behind my master the Holy Inquisitor Rammstein, my eye calmly roves over the crowd, looking for any sign of attack or anything even slightly out of the ordinary. I glance past the stiff military frame of the commisar, who is looking for the heretic even now through his auspex.
Casually I play my usual game of measuring the citizens around me, deciding how they would fight and if I would be able to defeat them. As usual I see no-one in the bustling crwod who would be my equal in a fight. I supress a slight smile.
My hand twitches toward the hilt of my knife as a vehicle trundles past, and I realize it has been too long since my last adreno-patch. I am jumping at shadows.
I glance towards my master, hoping that soon he will find the heretic he seeks and I will be able to test myself once again for the Emperor.
I silently curse the auspex for not being able to pick out a single life form from the masses. "Very well, then," I reply. "We'd best inquire the landing pad staff. Commissar, take Hex with you and check with the kind folks who are seeing to our transport. Corporal, we'll check the logs in traffic control. Move out." As I speak that last word, I depart for the Traffic control tower, looking back momentarily to see if Stuart is following.
(OCC: I know the rule but totally misposted. Sorry. For now...)
"Do you see anyone that resembles her?" asked the traitor.
While sitting in the local Chapel of the Emperor, Thorualdr Fenrir scanned the seemingly endless hordes of everyday citizens walked by the aisle. Begging their Emperor for material goods, like money and strength to face up to their responsiblitys. He felt glad that this was all they had to complain about. His life as a Space Wolf was much harder than any normal human could imagine. He was proud that he, his Wolf Brothers, and Space Marines gave and give these people an opprotunity for a near care-free life, with their blood. Their blood is the reason I'm here.
My mission was to bring a traitor back to Fenris for trial and execution. This traitor had hesitated in his sworn duties, and faltered, resulting in the death of ten Wolf brothers alone. And by going back on an oath he made to the Great Wolf himself made Thorualdr even more furious. A Wolf would never brake his oath, even if it meant giving one's own life. And to have an oath accepted by the Wolves was to be among them.
I now have to help this poor excuse of a man.
"No Adrian, there is not."
The trouble was the inquistion was also hunting this man, and were doing it in great force. His target just getting away from them at the spaceport. It was partially my fault he got away. I had convinced the Space Traffic Controllers (OCC: I hope there are some.) that the Inquistor's ship may have had spores belonging to the Tyranids on board. This gave the poor men a great fright and bought the rogue a few minutes. Apparently enough time to get away. So I followed him, through rumor and the enthusiastic help of a small boy.
The boy had me lead to this chapel, where inside, he told me I would find a man that looked as if he had been carrying a large burden, and praying under his breath continuously. Just what I was looking for. This was the man I was to retrieve. I now sat beside this man, waiting for my opprotunity to prove my worth to the Wolves.
Last edited by Forger of Civilization; August 3rd, 2005 at 03:39.
Three Companies of the 26th Vinancium
143rd Airborne Badgers (99.9% done)
159th Corsair Rifles (35% done))
69th Armored Wall Busters (95% done)
Total 197 men, 12 tanks, 4 Heavy Artillery Pieces
I look around the street, barely moving. My hooded brown cloak covers my bionic arms, after all, we can't let anyone know what we are here for. The inquisitor is standing in front of me, busy with his own matters no doubt. Nothing seems to be out of the ordinary here, but there must be a reason why we are standing in the middle of a street. Soon, all will be revealed.
"Come on, Corporal," I tell Stuart irratably as I walk toward the traffic control spire. This was the only city within airspeeder range, so I know we're closing in on Roos. Then something dawns on me. I have no clue where the traffic control tower is. Spotting a nearby worker, I ask him where I might find traffic control while flashing my Inquisitorial rosette.
I nod and turn back towards ths ship. Already the ground crew and thier assiting servitors where buzzing around the craft, running through all the post flight prcedures they're assigned to deal with.I nod to the assassin as I pass and he follows. We walk calmy over to whwre the ground crew are working and I flag down the nearest human worker. I run through all the standard questions. Have you seen a man so and so tall, has anybody suspicious passed through, any rumours floating around, any strange cargo hauled off any of the transports.The man responds to all my questioning with a somewhat vacant look in his eyes. It's obvious this man knows very little. I thank him for his time and let him get back to work.
It's essence flared as it once more woke up, remembering where it was still located.
It's surroundings disgusted it as it knew by what vermin it was created, the things in front of it were nothing compared to it and yet they sought to capture and bound it to their will, it would obey now but once it would be free it would have it's revenge.
With a hiss it turned back to rest.
I try to stay as inconspicuous as possible while the commissar questions the citizens. With hood pulled low the jangle of holy charms I wear have more often than not caused observers to take me for a preacher or an adept of the ecclesiarchy. I have learnt from experience to keep my face hidden, as once they glimpse me they somehow know I am no priest.
When the last citizen has proved useless to our cause I lean toward Van Ram and ask "what now? The heretic is building a strong lead. Should we report back to our master, or continue our search?"