To Error is Human

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Man Down!
Gibson Green

We thought the task was simple. I mean, we just killed half a dozen Ogren on that Emperor forsaken planet, why couldn’t we break into a library?

No one expected a thing. The street was crowded with Folks goin about their day-to-day. I was in my place, as were the others, waiting for the signal. Karzak was to start by laying down a good coat of promethium. Light all the bastards at change of guard, hoping the we could minimalize the back up that came after the assault started. The first replacements came, right on time and just as planned. He let the flames fly. 6 heavily armed guards saw the glory of the Emperor flash before their very eyes. Dancing around like crimson ballerinas I leaped up to assure their eternal slumber.

And thats when Basil saw the auto cannons on the roof. Things change, no different than anything were used to. You just have to adapt. Instead of watching the door for more of them he took out the big guns. A tactically sound addendum. Boom! one big gun down. Kade opened fire and took two more to the grave. Right in step, as the crowd cleared a path, Ajax started suppressing fire on the door of the basement. I heard fire come from the building Basil was in. A las-shot. Strange. He uses solid shot….. SNAP!

The second round tore through my neck. White-hot burning above my chest. I couldn’t breath, the pain was immense. Before I knew what happened my head bounced off the pavement, and I blacked out.

Couldnt have been out that long. The could still feel the thumping of Ajax’s gun in my legs. I forced my self up and to looked around. Kade was holding one arm, vomit was seeping from the mask hiding Karzaks’ face. I pull the knife from the sheath in my boot and staggered toward the man pouring fire into my allies. Raising it high above my head I dug the blade into his back until I felt the spinal column on it’s hilt. He screamed in agony and tried to swing around to lask at me with the butt of the rifle. But the maneuver proved useless, I held the grip as tightly as I could manage and was pulled behind him once again. My hand fell to the trusty axe, ever present at my side. Rather than burrowing into his back once more, I went for the legs. The long beard struck his shin bone as I pulled back upsetting his balance. He fell, full force and head first into the solid pavement, I could feel his skull crack.

My enemy finally lay before me. I need to focus on my breathing, what little I can manage, get to Karzak and get out alive. I hear the door creak open behind me.

“This shit will not end.”

I throw the axe in desperation. Enough to distract him and get away. It digs into the wall just right of this head. As i turn to flee, I hear one shot ring out. One last thought rings through my head.

“Why the fuck do i have 10 kilos of high grade explosive in my satchel again?”

Session 2/17/11

After the dust had settled and the tattered group had hobbled our way back to our hole, a silent consensus to lay low for a bit had been reached. Nobody was interested in heading out with the reports of terrorist attacks on the Library spreading like the fire caused by the very same bombing. Some lost themselves for a time in what alcohol remaining, others in their study and research trying to make connections. I busied myself with my business. A half shipment of arms gathering dust in this container and nobody to pass them off to. If I didn’t get rid of them soon there would be no way for me to purchase passage of this rock for myself, let alone the others who I admittedly owe a bit of due. If my brother were in fact trying to be rid of me than the news of my death would certainly knock him off of my trail, but for how long? Eventually he would learn of my refusal to die. If he were really connected with the old man the others are after than he might already know, and blowing up buildings is high profile. All this is plenty of reason to try and procure some thrones as to not rely on the family allowance account. That would draw him to me like filings to a magnet. I had already gotten one good crew slaughtered for underestimating my brother, and I wouldn’t be making the same mistake twice.

The heavies finished loading up one final box of arms. If nothing else I could be rid of the blasted Mordian 13th munitions. Perhaps some of my ill luck would leave with them. I clutched my lucky bolt casing as I assessed my wares, marking which are to be taken and which are to stay. I removed one of the five large Assault Cannons from their housing and set it aside. Ajax had shown interest in one of those and they were technically meant for him in the first place anyways. I had just sent out the laborers when Roddy and Karzak came together with news. I moved to hear from them about what was happening. Roddy’s urchins had turned up a bit of useful information, having learned of and followed a man who seemed to know something of the relic Karzak and the others were after. This relic was somehow associated with my brother and I damned well wanted to know how. If it was something my brother wanted I meant to do everything in my power to make sure he didn’t get it.

I snatched up my overcoat and fell in behind the others. The man we were investigating was some kind of confessor living down on one of the lower levels of the hive near the waterfront and apparently operating some sort of tattoo parish. I could never quite get a read on the members of the Ecclesiarchy. They either gilded their pockets with thrones or abstained from any form of indulgence, and it was near impossible to tell which was which until after you already offered the bribe. I didn’t think I would be the one greasing the wheels of this meeting, and I expressed as much to Karzak and Roddy as we boarded the lift down to the lower levels. The lift shuddered to a halt and we began weaving our way towards the location given to us for this Confessor’s shop. We wound through the roughly assembled stalls and tents until we found it, Confessions of Skin. It didn’t look like much, but we were in one of the deeper levels of the hive; I had not been expecting much.

We stalled a little bit to make sure that we would be the only ones in his tent, procuring a pair of masks from an old woman who had a stall across the way from his. When we finally stepped into the tent a small chime of a bell announced our presence. I closed the wooden door behind us and propped myself against it as I watched Roddy circle through the tent, scanning with his practiced eyes. The man appeared from a back section of the tent and greeted us, and this is when Karzak got down to business. I kept an eye on him, not fully trusting a man who had suddenly popped up with convenient information on the item we had been searching for. It seemed a bit too easy, but Karzak forded ahead. He blatantly asked questions and gave up far too information, but I kept silent and simply watched, ready to jump in should the need arise. It was right then that someone pounded on the door, and I leapt out of the way as I heard one person give a command to break the door down. My Carnodon Hand Cannon was already in my hand without a thought, and leveled at head height as a group of thugs barged through the portal. One turned to face me and began to lift his weapon even with my pistol leveled at his face, but fortunately the Confessor demanded that everyone lower their weapons. I re-holstered my pistol and pulled my over coat forward to show no ill will towards the thugs. The leader of the group apparently had some issue with the preacher refusing to give her boys ganger tattoos and was planning on teaching him a lesson, but fortunately for them the preacher talked her down and they left without too much trouble. I would not have taken pleasure in killing someone who stands no chance against me, let alone the fact that he was just doing what he was told, but I would have had they pursued the matter.

Karzak and the preacher seemed to come to an impasse, so we stepped outside for a moment to discuss our options. The little man wanted to bring this preacher back to our safe house and keep him there. That just did not seem like a good idea. If he did have some connection or some ulterior motives then we would be leading him right to our base of operations with no options for getting the warp out of there. Throne, this man could be working for my brother or another inquisitor who would not be so lenient on my crimes. It seemed like a recipe for bad news to me, but Karzak was insistent. We stepped back into the tent to collect the man to find that he had already been backing up his belongings, which mostly consisted of books, and was just finishing putting some things together to make ready to leave. We gave him our verdict and he seemed fine with that, scooping up his finely crafted cane and heading out the door to possibly sell the rest of his belongings which he no longer needed. Just as he stepped out the door, we heard the spitting roar of a heavy stubber and the solid thump of the shots as they tore through wood, plascrete, and any bystanders who were unfortunate enough to be in the way. I quickly fell into a low squat, my pistols once again finding their way to my hands. I could see fragments of wood splintering off as the bullets ripped off pieces of the door and decided quickly that it would not be a very healthy exit. Thinking quickly I grabbed the bottom edge of the canvas tent and pulled it up roughtly, tearing a portion of it before stepping out behind the small wood and plasteel shanty which was occupying the space next to it. Karzak followed behind me as well as Roddy, and I peered out around the corner to get a gauge of the situation. There was a large man, covered from head to foot in carapace armor and wielding a large heavy stubber with no distinguishing marks or patter that could be recognized, but it did appear to be setup with a chain feed leading to a backpack. He wouldn’t be running out of ammo any time soon. The main thing that I noticed was the large inquisitorial “I” marking the entire front of his helmet. It wasn’t bad enough working with the inquisition, now another one of them was trying to kill us.

I squeezed off a couple of shots around the corner, trying to stay out of the line of fire as he sprayed slugs into the quickly dispersing crowd and surrounding buildings. I heard roddy behind me kicking into the shanty we were covering behind and Karzak began to focus intently on the man as he peered around the corner as well. The stubber whirred to a halt and with a roar the man dropped it and pulled out a large two handed sword which blazed to life with a blue glow as he rushed towards the small figure of Karzak who had stepped out from behind the building. I leapt out behind Karzak, lining up a shot and planting a slug in the forehead of the man’s helmet just as sickly blue lightning leapt from the small man’s hands to course over our threat’s body. I had seen Karzak wield this power before, but it was still unsettling. I could not be sure, but I could have sworn that I saw what looked like blood oozing from the nearby wooden wall, but perhaps it was just my imagination. That was when the preacher rushed past me towards the man, pulling a deadly thin blade from within his cane, and this blade too was quickly enveloped by a power field. He thrust the thin blade, the power field easily ripping through the armor protecting the man’s face and the point ripped across the man’s field of vision, doing damage I could not possibly comprehend. The mans grip slipped and his next swing went wild, embedding the sword in the wall as the power field was switched off. The blade seemed ruined. One final shot and the man was down, slumped on the ground and bleeding out. The preacher began moving around and saying prayers over the bodies of the people who had been caught in the crossfire, but I quickly gathered up the heavy stubber and moved over to the body. If nothing else I could get some spare parts from his weapons. Attached to his rig was what looked like a large amount of explosives and they seemed to be activated. I yelled to the others, grabbing them and running as the body burst into flames. The preacher’s prayers would have to be cut short. We needed to leave quickly before we received any more unwanted attention. When we had gotten a good distance from the comotion, we stopped and requested that the confessor submit to having his eyes covered as we took him to our safe house, not wanting to compromise our whereabouts. He agreed and we began our journey back to the safe house.

I ran ahead, not wanting to leave any arms there just in case we were compromised, and gathered what heavy lifters were left to pack up the rest of the arms store and move them to Skully’s warehouse. I would know that they could be safe there.

Monastery of the Scholastia Psykana

Templar Calix are the most secretive and reclusive militant group of the Scholastia Psykana; mused as body guards for top military commanders and high ranking adepts. Virtually never seen some believe them as a myth. Trained Psykers in the dark arts of assassination and hand to hand combat; wearing black robes with emotionless visages can easily be taken as a myth; yet what most do not realize are that Templars of the Scholastica Psykana are very real and an effective tool to the militant wing of the Scholastica Psykana.

Why Karzak was summoned to the Black Monastery was not indicated in the coded letter that was delivered to Karzak personally by a noticeably “devote” youth. The letter was written with a deep red ink; the runes etched into the material used (to the untrained eyes) would twist and mold into words that burnt the minds of the “untrained.”

Karzak cared little at that point for Byth and all its Libraries and Schools, even for his comrades who he knew would be left to sort out mess they had been “gifted by the Emperor” to clean up. ; Karzak cared for one thing and that was to meet with the four Templar Calix which met him at his residence. Karzak Tel’i; Trusted Acolyte to inquisitor creed. You will follow us to our drop ship. Master Templar Calix Argine requests your….admittance into the Order

A dark and foreboding structure only rises its head a few meters above ground to breath in the subzero wasteland of the Scintillian north pole. Yet three kilometers underground houses the very Templar Calix’s monastery; the architects of this great structure have been lost in time. Some believe the monastery itself had been built thousands of years before the Calixis sector was conquered by Lord Militant Angevin. Its not uncommon knowledge that only 20 years after Angevin’s aide; who was said to have originated from a distant scholastica in Sigmentum Solar; visited Scintilla the first Psykana Templar Calix appeared. From that time the Psykana Templar Calix of the Psykana Scholastica slowly gained in number choosing carefully from a pool of “accepted” Psykers.

From the first step into the monastery Karzak was overwhelmed by psykic energy from what Karzak could gauge was the collective power of over 300 undampened Sanctioned psykers using their powers simultaneously. The feeling at first was unnerving to Karzak but that feeling would quickly dissipate early on during his two month stay at the Psykana Templar Calix Monastery.

Karzaks’ silent walk through the dark halls; illuminated only by a the faint glow of accumulated warp energies which surrounded every stone which Karzak stepped upon and every thing he touched. When Karzak reached what he believed to be the end of the marbled hall he heard a voice violently inject itself into his mind Karzak Tel’i, Acolyte to Inquisitor Creed, under the watch of Inquisitor Roth, speak! Karzak let out a hurried “I am Karzak, Acolyte to Inquisitor Creed, why have you summoned me to this place?” questions are not to be answered at this time, first you must learn the pain you will cause the enemies of the God-Emporor. With that the wall which marked the end of the hall way evaporated before Karzak’s very eyes; the opening leading to an stone staircase which try as he might to turn around and walk out of the monestary all together Karzak felt compelled to walk down the seemingly endless stareway.

As Karzak descended the stairway all that ran through his mind like an endless holo loop was the burning question of who sent him the letter, and why he was chosen to join the ranks of the Psykana Templar Calix. This would not be shown to him during his stay at the monastery which lay deep under the northern-most frozen Scintillian wasteland; and would eat away at his very mind for the next two months as he trained along with the Psykana Templar Calix.

The room that met Karzak’s eyes as he stepped free from the staircase which had entrapped him for what seemed like hours; glowed with a magnificent golden hue. The room was octagonal in shape save the stairway no doors entered or exited the great room. Its walls filled with golden statues which towered many feet above him all shrouded in what looked like the same materiel, all had their faces covered by a mask of silver which allowed a sense of individuality yet at the same time blocked out all views of emotion entirely.

Two cloaked figures stepped away from the wall; where moments ago Karzak saw a blank wall made of what seemed to be gold. The figures drew their weapons and in moments were upon Karzak; little time did he have to even let out a breath before the first’s ax bore itself deep into Karzak’s right side, he could feel psykic energy burn its way into his body as Karzak fell to the floor; he could not scream as something was blocking his airways. The next stood above him holding what looked like a double sided sword which was etched with glowing runes that burnt the emperor’s blessing into his mind as one end came sharply down into his belly. He then heard only thing enter his mind as he lay to die Will and blade, life and death, cause and consequence, mind and matter, soul’s truth and warp’s lie; all things indivisible and one.

Will…..“welcome to…” “Heresy…” “you will learn….Karzak…end….NOW!” “Will this have any….to action?” Run at me! “T…Error…human” “Fail..I..Here…”

“M…..Dagg….tell my Acolyte I’m always watching” “You…..choices” was the last thing the Inquistor said as Karzak stepped onto the drop ship finally leaving the great monastery behind him and to return to Byth. For the first time in two months the sense of urgency to free Creed and to figure out the ancient Eldar artifact’s true purpose washed over Karzak and an odd void crept into his soul as he realized how empty the universe truly was.

A Holy Audience
To Error is Human

Ajax silently slipped into his room when the group had finally arrived back at the house. Drinking what little remained of the keg from the previous night, Ajax kept to himself for a long while. With the death of Gibson, Ajax was now the last surviving member of the Mordian 13th. Nightmarish thoughts of self doubt and worry plagued his mind and dreams.

How had he survived, why had he survived? If it were not for the interception of Inquisitor Creed he would have been upon the planet and died with the rest of the regiment. In his youth why was he the only one left, when the Orks massacred his tribe? What if the Flayed One’s claws dug just a bit deeper into his chest and punctured his heart? That indescribable madness that held him steady in the face of adversity where did that come from? Restless and tired he needed to relief, he needed prayer and someone to listen to it.

After a couple days of contemplation and worry Ajax left the house in search of a salvation. His quest through the labyrinthine streets eventually led him to a cathedral a couple levels below the house. Large gothic arches and hanging gargoyles towered ominously above him, leering down at his frame questioningly. Stained glass windows covered the outside of the church depicting saints and heroes of the Imperium long since passed back into the Emperor’s light. Taken aback by the immensity of the cathedral, it took Ajax some time to approach the large wooden entrance.

Opening the massive engraved doors Ajax stepped inside. At the far end of the pew filled room stood alone unattended altar. Behind that rose a colossal pillar that stretched from the floor to the ceiling, several stories up. Shelves of candles spiraled up the column each one lit and burning. The wide body of the pillar housed several massive golden Aquilas. Servo skulls and cherubs flittered around the pillar and above Ajax’s head, cleaning and maintaining the spotless room. A pair of hunched figures continued praying, appearing unaware of the newcomer.

Just as outside, Ajax paused to take in the majesty. On his homeworld, the missions were small white domed constructs with warehouse like buildings surrounding it. Efficiency and protection was more important than appearance. While this building’s entire surface was covered in sacred symbols and iconography. Ajax stood mouth a gapped.

“Beautiful isn’t it? In my works I often overlook the majesty of this place,” interjected a voice to his right.

A young robbed man had fallen in beside Ajax, his eyes slowly looking across the walls and murals about the chamber. His robe comprised of a mixture of red and gray fabric forming geometrical patterns on his sleeves and hood, a large book slung tightly to his belt and side, and small amounts of gold trimmed his robe.

“I just have never seen a place like this before.” Ajax finally replied.

Gracefully the young priest turned to Ajax, “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to disturb your reverence.
However, I must ask what brings you to the Emperor’s house this day?” Spoke the man through a thin smile.

Quickly straightening himself, “my name is Ajax. I am a warrior of the Emperor and am faithful to his teachings. Since I have gone to serve, I have not been to His house. This is something I want to change.”

The man’s smile grew as he extended his hand. “It is an honor to meet you Ajax; the Imperium needs men such as yourself to fight on the fields for her. My name is Joshua and I am one of the priests that tend this monastery.”

Joshua’s hand was engulfed by Ajax’s as they shook. Yet to his surprise the priest’s shake was strong for a hive worlder. “So from the look of you, and the scars you bare you’ve seen your share of warfare. Would you by chance have time to regale me of your travels? Very few guardsmen come to through the hive, since they’re usually here on leave and I would so much like to hear of your tales.”

Ajax was taken aback by this young man. None of the ecclesiarchy of his home world cared much for him or his tribe. They only stood around complaining and ordering people about. Only the young missionaries that joined the tribes seemed to show any compassion towards them. Yet this young priest wanted to talk and listen to what he had to say. The emperor had granted Ajax his audience.

To be continued…

A Holy Audience, part 2

Over the next several weeks Ajax returned on many occasions to tell this young man of his many battles against the voracious Tyranids, horrific mutants, and even of the nightmarish Necrons. All the time censoring his speeches by excluding his employment in the Inquisition. The young man was entranced by Ajax’s stories of valor and glory.

As he listened, Joshua would interject with stories of saints of heroes in the holy writing. He also spoke of his grandfather who served in the guard as a priest, until eventually the Ecclesiarchy pulled his grandfather from the field and stationed him on this hive. He would tell Joshua of the places and battles he fought, and now Joshua would do his best to recollect and recite the stories. This continued for an hour or so at a time before Joshua was called away on duty.

Ajax enjoyed his chats with the priest. It was like telling a child of his life and accomplishments. However, there was always that feeling of worry. He couldn’t shake it and often haunted his nights. Ajax would often attend Joshua’s sermons, hoping to hear some holy solution to his problem, but alas there came none. So one day he told Joshua of his fears.

“Joshua, I’ve enjoyed our swapping of triumphant adventures. You’ve taught me much of the saints that was before me. However, I have not told you of my failings. Which is more why I came here in the first place. I need advice.”

Joshua’s child-like smile vanished in a moment and in its place was the stern look of a concerned parent. “What is it my son?” His voice deepened as he often did when he turned to a grave issue in his sermons.

“I. . .I am the only survivor of both my tribe and of my regiment. I know it sounds…cowardly, but I’m worried that I can’t avoid death forever.” Ajax then told him of his tribe’s massacre, and how he hid from the Orks. Then of how he heard of his regiment being killed while he was “on leave.”

Joshua sat silently for a moment, “I unlike many of my brothers in the Ecclesiarchy understand the stresses of life, and in this stress there is doubt. Doubt in oneself can sprout doubt in the Emperor. You are a faithful man and follower of the Emperor our talks have made this much clear to me. I want to meet more often then we have and you and I will go over the scriptures until we find some passages that will help.” He paused to pat the book on his side, “The Emperor has given us this life and protects us with his will, and you just need to be told that in a way you’ll remember.”

With time, Ajax had become very familiar with many lines of scripture that would aid him. The tables had turned from Ajax being the teacher to Joshua. Joshua would make him read page after page of holy books and often from the one Joshua had on his hip. While testing him verbally each day of the particularly useful passages they learned the day prior. He would even make Ajax lead mock sermons and those sometimes held an audience.

After departing from Joshua’s daily guidance, Ajax would recite the scriptures in his head to help quell the thoughts and nightmares of possible deaths. He found many of them particularly useful and even calmed him down when he became frustrated.

As the months came to an end, Ajax needed Joshua’s guidance less and less. Until one day Joshua’s book was once more strapped to his side and he didn’t ask Ajax what they’d learned the day before. Ajax just smiled and told Joshua how he got the scar across his chest and head.

When he got home that day he felt worlds better, he knew the Emperor was watching over him and that he would some day have to face death, but it was his duty to keep fighting and protecting the Imperium and the God-Emperor. He planned on meeting up with Joshua the next day to continue his story telling, until he looked outside. Several figures were coming up the walk towards the front, three were his companions, but the forth had their eyes covered.

“Well dont you just look pretty” Doc says taking a long drink out of a beaker.

Greens body or what was left of it lay on a metal slab before him. Both of his legs where gone just below the waist along with his left arm and from the forearm down on the right. His chest was had a gapping wound just over where his left lung would have been.

“How in the thrones name is he still alive” Doc said looking at the six men in his room. " And come to think of it who the frag are you" “who we are Eric doesn’t matter. Your task was to keep these men alive and thats just what your going to do” the man in the black robe pointed a metal finger towards the back yard of the house where the Valkyrie had landed a few moments ago “now get on board we will have everything you need where we are going however we don’t have the medical skills needed for the transport”…


Death of the Brood

Note: This was not part of this adventure, I wrote it when Tom was doing his Deathwatch game. Most of our party did participate in the Deathwatch campaign so I figured this would be the best place to put this. Hope you like it :)

Burning Stealers—————————

Blackened bubbling ichor seeped from the cracks and gaps of their chitinous exoskeleton. By the time they knew of their impending doom the agitated generator had already buzzed to life and was pumping immense amounts of heat into their nest. Clawed hands pulled their burning weakened bodies limply out of their protective holes. Unearthly shrieks emitted from their elongated mouths.

Primeval eyes narrowed upon a lone figure that stood imposing in their nest. Within seconds the message had been relayed to the brood, their quarry must die. Many of the brood members had been able to pull themselves free, flopping to the grated flooring. Those that had not fled melted, fusing with the biological mass encompassing the walls of the nest.

A cacophony of other worldly shrieks drowned out the noise of the generator. While their ethereal cries of hate and pain reverberated outwards into the warp. An echoed cry of sorrow was sent by their exterior brethren.

Then the cries were silenced. Bolt rounds erupted from above, detonating within the crawling brood members. A mass of molten gore and tissue exploded and fizzled across the walls of the generator room. Brood members from the adjacent rooms awoke and swarmed over their new attackers. Blood lust and vengeance screeched from toothed gapping maws.

Multiple silhouettes of their prey stood about the hole to the generator room one floor below, ignorant of the reinforcements. Clearing the gap, a lone broodling leaped for the nearest food beast. Crashing into the beast it struggled to grab hold of its massive body. Before a better grip could be attained, the broodling was fended off by its prey’s large powerful arms. Quickly righting itself, the broodling roared in defiance before being cut down. It’s body blown apart by bolt rounds.

Flames roared out of a device its defending prey held. The flames superheated the organs inside the broodling, blowing its chest outward in a flaming geyser. With large sweeps the prey cornered the last of the reinforcements before incinerating their bodies. Charred and warped remains were all that was left of the part of the brood. Their etheric voices forever silenced.
Through bubbling blackened throats and the remnants of the brood still shrieked for blood.

Dragging themselves across the grated floor towards the prey standing in their nest, the few who survived the bolt fire encroached upon the lone figure. It swung a large object in a vain attempt at warding off its hunters. A third arm shot out at the closer brood members, but the swings were clumsy and inevitably missed.

Only two of the brood made it to that prey. However, their strength was all but gone. Their last psychic cries of defiance were slowly and painfully silenced as the heat of the generators boiled the last traces of their brains away. Reports of regret and worry filtered back from the external Tyranid leader beasts, in search of their dying kin. However, their cries were not responded in kind. The entire brood had been lost, and the prey was still alive.

Moments afterwards external vents leading from the generator opened, disintegrated Tyranid bodies began tumbling off the outer hull of the complex. Leader beasts pulled back their packs and broods and waited for the venting to cool enough to gain entry. Their brothers will be avenged and their quarry’s bio-mass absorbed back into the swarm.

Greg the Scribe wanders threw the house noticing how empty it is with out the noise of the team running threw the house. There unnaturalness of this is what brought him from his studies in the basement, normally there would still be the sounds from outside filtering in threw the ducts in the home. “All alone I see” the voice came from a shadow of the hallway that lead to Ajax’s room sounded like a knife being slid across silk. “Whos that… I’ll have you know I’m armed and in a foul mood” Greg scrambled for the auto pistol that Kade had given him. “Oh now there will be no need for that sweetheart” from the shadows walked a woman of amazing beauty. Standing aittle over 6’3 dressed in a syth skin and little else. Her hair was cropped in the matter of the Sisterhood was almost mocking in respect of her manner. "I know your just as likely to shoot your self as me " she moved towards him with the grace of a phyrr cat. Although unarmed Greg felt very much the mouse. “I just wanted to ask you a few questions kitten and then ill be on my way and I’ll leave you to your studies” “I assure you that what ever your wanting to know I’ll have no answers” thats when he felt something metal wrap around his neck.
Wrath of the Emperor

“Emperor grant me the strength to see me through this battle. May the heretics quiver in the presence of your most Holy Name. See me through this black sea of chaos and into the warm glow of your golden radiance. I am your weapon.” Claire whispered the silent prayer to herself as the kill team circled around the glowing hole that had just melted through the upper floor of the space station. From here they would descend into the viper’s nest.

A volley of gun fire followed the drop of the metal plating. Of course, with the aid of a few grenades the opposition was quieted. The first to plummet into the fray was Kade, the captain whose ship was stolen and of which was their current target.

“Emperor protect us…” Claire muttered under her breath as she prepared to descend.
Raising from her crouched position, Claire swung her Eviscerator in front of her, her gloved hands gripping the steal handle, one hand resting on the start switch. A few blasts from Kade’s pistols told her there were still enemies below. Peering below she sighted her target, a man close to the back wall.

Having been given the go ahead to descend, Claire stepped forward and hopped into the hole. As she began her fall, Sister Claire brought her weapon to life. The motor roared like a ferocious beast and a puff of smoke escaped the exhaust pipes. The triple chain blades spun at a dizzying pace, becoming nothing but a blur as she revved the engine to full power.

As she landed on the metal floor beneath, her armor let out its metallic cry as she folded in upon herself, bending her knees to absorb the impact of her direct fall. Then it happened, in the blink of eye she sprung into action. Done in one fluid movement, Claire rose upward on one leg, keeping the other close to the ground to support her body as she heaved the massive tank buster upward at an angle.

Spinning, biting teeth met with armor, the grinding noise was soon replaced by the sickening sound of the Eviscerator’s teeth biting into flesh and bone. A gory fountain of blood and flesh erupted from the enemies body as Claire pushed forward, cleaving a vicious line across the man’s body. With two of the chain’s pulling upward and the middle chain pulling downward, the massive chainsaw dug its way through the body, as though it had a bloodthirsty life of its own seeking the man’s heart.

Finally the resistance of the enemies body ended as the Eviscerator tore through the other side, a final shower of blood spraying every which way and covered Claire’s snow white hair in crimson. The two portions of the man’s body fell to the either side, bits of flesh and bone littered the small lake of blood that had formed around the Sister of Battle and her extinguished victim.
She turned around, the Eye of the Inquisition imprinted on her right eye blazed red as though consumed by a blood lust that screamed for more. “May the Emperor find forgiveness for your damned soul, for I shall not.”


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