# Ordo Malleus - Order of the Hammer



## Doelago (Nov 29, 2009)

Vaning Opuntia gazed into the empyrean vastness of the Warp, pondering its hues. Always shifting, always changing, that was the nature of the enemies of man. It was said that there was only one certainty in a cruel universe, and that was the Emperor, his light an eternal testament to benevolent order in the maelstrom of the Warp. But the universe was vast, so vast, and cold. 

Vaning gazed into the Warp, and sought in its twisting madness the Emperor’s light. Today it was not to be found. It never was.

Today he celebrated his one hundred and seventieth year of service to the Imperium of Man, following the same ritual he had since he began his service as a young interrogator, seeking the greater order in chaos. One hundred and eighty years, always the same result.

Vanings’s thoughts returned to his surroundings, the hangar of the frigate Tempestus, worn with tremendous age and lack of repair. It was a wonder that the hulking vessel held together, but on fringes of the Imperium one could not be overly discriminating in their choice of transportation.

Behind him there was an other Inquisitor, Ibrahim El-Wazir,and his retinue, waiting for the last Inquisitor to dock so that they could start their journey to Xalaxis.

In front of him an Imperial Aquila lander slowly begun its landing, and soon the hatch opened and from the inside a women stepped out, flanked by three dark forms. The young women, somewhere in the middle twenties was clad in a ornate suite of silver colored carapace armor, with a golden Aquila on the chest. One of the other forms was clad in a tight black suit and the face was covered by a leering skull, he quickly identified the man as a Culexus Assassin. The second form was a man clad in a grey coat. It not take long to identify the man as a Valhallan. The last one was clad in a grey robe and had a presence in the Warp, a Psyker.

_"Welcome on board the Tempestus, I am Inquisitor Lord Vaning, and I in charge of this operation. The man behind me is Ibrahim El-Wazir, he is going to show you the way to your room."_

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Ibrahim El-Waxir and Alice Storm: You dont trust each other, and you are right not to, as you both suspect each other for heresy. But you can not let this come in your way now, as you have more important things to do. You both welcome each other before starting to make your way towards the room. 

You have just met each other for the first time, and as you are walking towards the room, it might be a good idea to learn to know each other. Talk about something as you walk, present yourself to the other, talk about the mission or something.

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Troy Raef, Jalin Fischig, Morus, Dimitri Strashilov and Kystra: Naturally, you follow your Inquisitors, but you do not trust the other pair. 

Someone of you might want to start a conversation, but do you just want to talk with your pair, or with someone from the other retinue? Your decision. 

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Alexander Ophelius and Hades: You are both in the Library, you have been there for hours upon hours. You are both reading/studying something, or you might be talking. You might also go and eat in the dinning hall a few rooms away, as you are probably getting hungry.

So, what have you been reading? You can read more if you want, start talking about something and/or go and eat. Of course both of you do not have to go and eat if the other goes, it is entirely up to each one of you. 

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The rest: You are all in the dinner hall, a huge hall, at least 20 meters high. On the grey walls there are candles and scrolls. In the middle of the room there is food, almost everything, as it is an Inquisitorial transport right now. 

You are eating, you might want to talk about the food, or something else, or you could go somewhere else, such as your room, that is always an option. It is your decision.

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Any questions can be asked in a PM or in the Recruitment thread. Sorry to those who have not got a lot to do, but there is not really a lot to do right now...

[/COLOR]I am so sorry that I forgot you blazinvire, I have fixed it...[/COLOR]


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## Lither (Apr 2, 2010)

Junius Fabianus sat eating his meal. Food disgusted him, and he viewed time eating as a useless waste. He had many other things to do with his time. Daemons never slept, never rested, always serving their twisted masters. That he knew, that he would never forget. It was a relief when he finally finished, saying goodbye to those who sat next to him, so he could finally go to his room to study a forbidden and stolen book, which contained much on the workings of Chaos. Bidding goodnight to Corporal Marcellus Horantius, he rose and slid off.

Arriving at his room, Junius immediately dimmed the lights and sat down on his bunk. Opening the book, he saw why it was so important to have been hidden by the last owner. The pages were black and it was written in something resembling blood. The language written was strange, however Junius could each word simply by looking at it. That sent a thrill of unease through his stomach, and he wondered if he should throw the book out. This was doubled when after reading for a short while, the letters begun to shimmer as if fresh, before glowing with an unholy light. With a force of will, Junius slammed the book closed and went to sleep.


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## rodmillard (Mar 23, 2010)

Inquisitor EL-Wazir bowed low as Lord Vaning left the room, his mind racing. A bead of sweat ran down his cheek, and he was grateful for the concealment afforded by his black headscarf. A Culexus - so that was the presence he had felt aboard the Aquila as it approached. With an effort of will, he relaxed his grip on the sword at his hip, suppressed his urge to vomit and approached the new arrivals, nodding politely to the each member of her retinue before he turned his attention to Alice Storm herself.

_"My Lady Alice, your reputation precedes you"_

With a whir of servos that always sounded deafening to him (though the Adepta Hospitaller assured him it was inaudible to anyone else in the room) he reached out gently and took her hand, raising it to his lips.

_"I trust you had a comfortable journey - let me add my own, personal, welcome aboard the Tempestus."_


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## Lord Ramo (Apr 12, 2009)

As the ramp descended Alice montioned for her retinue to follow her remarkingly wryly, _"Lets go meet and greet, get it over and done with." _She stepped onto the ramp followed by Morsus, the deadly culexus assassin and Dimitri her loyal guardsmen. She smiled at the Inquisitor bowing to him, _"Inquisitor Lord Vaning Opuntia, a pleasure to have you leading us."_ He welcomed her aboard the Tempestus before leaving her with another Inquisitor.


_"My Lady Alice, your reputation precedes you"_ The man said, taking her hand and raised it to his lips before saying, _"I trust you had a comfortable journey - let me add my own, personal, welcome aboard the Tempestus."_ Alice smiled at him, "_Thank you Inquisitor El-Wazir it was bearable, and I didn't know I had much of a reputation yet. Well certantly not as much of one as you have." _She slowly took her hand away before taking a few steps forward still smiling at his retinue, _"Should we make our way to the quarters?" _With that she walked next to Ibrahim off towards the quarters. She knew that Ibrahim had pysker powers, and this meant that being next to Morsus must be hell for him. To be next to ones natural enemy she thought. _"Tell me Ibrahim, why have you decided to be part of this mission?" _Alice thought she already knew the answer, if it was to bring more chaos to justice, though she wondered if he had an alterior motive, she didn't trust Ibrahim yet and he would have to earn it.

OOC: blazinvire is meant to be in my retinue as well, as a psyker. I assume that his character is already on board and in the mess.


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## Farseer Darvaleth (Nov 15, 2009)

Karkasor Martor sat in a gloomy corner of the mess hall. In his hand was a small boot knife, and it was crimson with blood. His own blood. Several deep gouges marked his right arm, and he continued to dig into his own flesh, wincing but making no sound. After he had made several deep lacerations, Karkasor reached over with a gloved hand to the burning brazier. Inside it he had placed an brass Imperial Eagle on a long chain; now it was red-hot.

Martor prepared himself for the pain that was to come. "I remove my weak flesh, and I rebuild it with faith. This Imperium must shed it's skin; so too will I." he said softly, clenching his teeth in anticipation. He put a large ragged cloth into his mouth. Then, as quick as he was able, "Reaper" stuffed the searing chains into as many of the cuts as he could before the searing agony overtook him. He dropped the Eagle and howled, the cloth muffling the sound. He staggered into the booth next to him, slamming the door shut and leaning over the basin. He looked up at himself in the mirror, seeing his face twisted in agony. Reaching for the concotion he had prepared earlier, Karkasor downed the entire high-concentrated alcohol-painkiller draught in one go. The pain began to recede, but it still burned his arm. The red-hot chains seared his lacerated flesh, welding itself to his arm with uncanny efficiency. 

As the draught took hold, Martor's surroundings began to sway. He turned, reaching for the lock on the booth; his hands caught on it, his vision slowly fading. Try as he could to turn the lock, it was to no use. He slumped backwards onto the floor, the door only slightly ajar, as he fell into unconsciousness.


OOC: Self-harmer? Yeah, he's a priest. They do that stuff whilst everyone else enjoys a meal. Watch out next time you eat; you might just hear some muffled screams.:grin:


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## Gorechild (Nov 29, 2009)

Standing at the edge of the massive table Avitus let the hood of his robe fall back as he pulled away the heavy black cloth that hid his face. The hall reminded him vaguely of his home. Such feasts were once common place there, now it was a dead world. Shaking his ringed hand from from his heavy sleeve the inquisitor poured himself a drink and began sipping at it. Reaper's strange transgressions no longer shocked him and were largely overlooked. His faith and loyalty were unshakable and his combat prowess was unmistakable making well up for what he lacked in subtlety. That of course seemed to be their dynamic when thinking of his other follower Drell. Out of combat Avitus was the velvet glove to their iron fists. Both had proven themselves time and time again though each saving the others life at one time or another. 

With each sip of his drink Avitus grew more and more relaxed while still keeping his wits about him. There was a strange energy in the room, a weight of some kind. It was psychic in nature but stronger than what was usually felt from inquisitors. Avitus' eyes drew to the woman in the room...yes it was her he recognized the staff she was a sanctioned psycher. She had an unnerving look about her but Avitus pushed his feelings deep within him. Beginning to pick a bit at the food Inquisitor Cain smiled to himself, this mission would be interesting indeed.


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## BlackApostleVilhelm (May 14, 2008)

Hades sat across a large table from his lord Inquisitor Ophelius, opened and unopened books strewn across the table in all sizes. His eyes raced over the pages of the book in front of him, he had been looking for and studying any book that had any hint of the social structure and normalities of the planet Xalaxis, the information that he had gleaned from the many books he had found would prove to be invaluable. They would allow him to learn how to act and react around the citizens properly and be able to operate undercover for an indefinate amount of time while he searched for whatever Alexander wanted him to.

His black carapace armor shone in the dim light that hung over the table and the two of them. The Inquisitor's two harlequinesque bodygaurds stood motionless to either side of him and hadnt moved for the many hours they had been sat here, something that would make a normal man nervous but Hades had gotten used to it. He had found really only one thing that served as useful at this moment to his lord and as he closed the book he had just finished looking over he said, *"Lord it would appear that the forces of Chaos had been here at Xalaxis once before, in and around the time of the Heresy it would appear. While I am sure that the other Inquisitors present know this already, I feel as though this is something that we must keep in mind when addressing whatever presents itself." *

He got up, his towering heavily built form bowing to Alexander, *"I am going to go get something to eat and walk around for a bit, see what I can figure out about the others." * He turned and made his way out of the library and made his way towards the mess hall, passing a group of two Inquisitors and what appeared to be thier retinues close behind them. 

He noticed some gaurdsmen, an assassin and a psyker, one of the Inquisitors was a woman and a young one at that while the other looked a bit older and was male. He could smell the ozone in the air as they got closer, he guessed there was another psyker in their midst other then the obvious one, one of the Inquisitors perhaps? He stepped to the side and allowed the group to pass by him, nodding at the two Inquisitors and staring down at the others in the group, his emerald green eyes glowing making his tattoos on his face look even darker. 

Once they passed he continued on his way down to the Mess Hall to observe the others that were in there and make mental notes on all of them. He entered and made his way over to where the food was being served and got himself a plater of food before sitting down on one of the benches towards the back with his back towards a wall, leaning against the wall and slowly eating while watching. 

He saw another Inquisitor present while one finally registering that he had passed another while he had entered the Mess Hall, it appeared that they were everywhere on this ship. He watched those that were in the hall and didn't really care if they knew he was watching them or not, he knew they weren't going to do anything to them, and so he sat and ate and watched.


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## deathbringer (Feb 19, 2009)

Troy Raef flicked dirt from under his nail with one pearly white tooth, as he leant casually upon the wall his foot tapping a melancholic rythm upon the stainless floor. A lazy hand brushed away a crease in his uniform and he stared fixedly at the hatch, though his eyes hardly saw it as his mind wandered.

Time was ticking away till space flight.. ugh... a grunt of discontent escaped his lips and he flicked his blonde hair aside in disgruntled furstration. Space flight, he suffered and transformed in to the human equivalent of a mad moth, fluttering around irritating everyone yet achieving very little, and he got patchy skin. 

He hoped he would be one of ther first off the ship, he was usually dispatched months before to gain information and data for jalin to processa and for the inquisitor to formulate into a plan, but no can do.

Instead he was stuck on a ship waiting for an inquistor to hurry the hell up.

The hiss of the hatch was met with a hiss of relief as Troy straightened feeling his abs tighten as they contorted pushing him upwards so he stood straight behind the inquisitor.

He eyed the approaching party with an expert eye taking in the inquisitor first. It was a she, unusual but not irritable, he had always had a way with women more confident and accessible around them then he was around his own gender, worse luck, a gift and a curse. 

He considered the inquisitor, surely they all had needs, desires, they were human surely. Yet would flirtation work on an inquisitor, could he make her interested, make her open and vulnerable.

Surely not. They were walking now and he had fallen in to step behind her, watching her as she talked to his master, through shrewd narrowed eyes. She seemed friendly, most definitely a facade, no inquisitor trusted anyone even those of there order, yet she talked with genuine interest.

The inquisitor knew his place, he was no fool and so Troy allowed his attention to move on. The retinue was three, an abomination he could not recognise left a feeling of nausea inhis throat and he scowled as he saw his inquisitor glance at the beast evidentally feeling the discomfort of its presence

A strong waft of stale alcohol caused a crease upon his face and he sniffed for the source of the moalodorous drunk. He found it in the shape of a tall strapping guardsman, dark skinned, worn and tired, deep black circles around his eyes like small sacks of tar. was the drunkeness a facade a mask to a greater intelligence? Troy supressed a snort, he doubted it, yet he hated suprises and decided to find out more at a later date.

The last was shrouded in a grey robe and his eyes narrowed as it fell upon the staff, a psyker. Troy Raef was not keen on psykers, they knew to much, found out too much including the location of his sniping spots, from his presence in the warp, plus worst of all some of them could tell when he was lying, and Troy Raef lied so much.

Hias very attitude to women and men was a lie, the corresponding pretences of infatuation and disinterest, a mere facade, that a psyker could break through, the only way his spell could be broken once cast.

He shyed away from the psyker and the drunk and moved back to the 3rd man in the strange mask and he whispered to fischig very quietly poiunting surreptitiously towards the maksed man

"What the hell is he, he makes my skin crawl?"


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## dark angel (Jun 11, 2008)

Psyker…..

The Inquisitor was a Psyker. Morsus reveled in this, silently filtering down the ramp and he locked eyes with the other Inquisitor, grinning beneath his leering visage and slowly one of his hands twisted into a tight fist. His senses, strengthened far further than that of the Retinues which moved around him, picked up the discomfort of those around him. The Psyker within the Retinue of Alice, a young petite girl who he had not took the time of socializing with must have been in a far worse state than the dark skinned Inquisitor, having been around the Culexus for longer than he had.

While Morsus did not try to cause her discomfort, under the request of the whore Alice; He could not help but to take a particular pleasure in feeling her twist and squirm. The vessel was not the best that Morsus had traveled upon, having spent several months upon a pleasure yacht while he tracked a rogue Psyker, one which had been responsible for the killing of thousands, through an asteroid belt within the Ultramar Segmentum. However, the Novamarines had took his prize from beneath his grasp for their own reasons and Morsus was left to ponder by himself, until he turned upon the crew of the vessel for the joy of it.

Slowly, he eased his fingers and they fell limp at his side as the pair of Inquisitors begun to walk. He scanned each step, searching for any possible weaknesses and previous, or subsequent injuries that could be used by him should a conflict arise between the pair. His Retinue were peculiar. One, was….More feminine than the other in the way he moved and Morsus, for the first time in over a decade was rather intrigued. Was he some form of hermaphrodite? Whatever it was, Morsus settled upon the male must have been a Mutant. A Unclean. However, that was not his place to decide whether or not it died, if he was able to serve the Inquisition, then so be it.

He smiled a lipless smile when he heard the creature talking about him. He had an effect upon those around him, to incite fear and hate upon those who let their eyes fall upon his muscular form. He shook his skull encased head, the skin beneath puckered and grey, realizing how naïve the Inquisitorial Servants actually were. Death would come to each one of them eventually, even when Morsus was still murdering in the name of the Emperor. Perhaps, even he could bring the darkness upon them. How he would take great pleasure in that….


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## rodmillard (Mar 23, 2010)

_"Tell me Ibrahim, why have you decided to be part of this mission?" _

The directness of her question took him aback. He did not fully trust any of his fellow Inquisitors aboard the ship, save possibly Lord Vaning, and he wondered how much she knew already, how much she merely suspected - if she suspected anything, and was not merely making polite conversation. He dismissed the thought; no Inquisitor worthy of the title asked questions out of idle curiosity. In this situation, he decided, honesty may be the best policy - although he would not tell her the whole truth, after all, he had barely begun to admit it to himself.

_"I knew one of the Inquisitors who is missing. We trained together, and worked together on occasion after we received our Inquisitorial seals. We were very ... close ... at times. I suppose you could say we were friends, or at least as close to that as our respective orders would allow. I want to see her safely returned to the Ordo Hereticus where she belongs."_

As they passed down the corridor towards the mess hall he fell silent, absent mindedly returning the nod of the hulking guard veteran who was going in to eat. He recognised the man as part of Inquisitor Ophelius' retinue, but knew little more about him. He made a mental note to have Troy find out what he could; it would give him a much needed distraction during the flight. He had always honoured Troy's request not to probe too deeply into his memories, but he did not need to be a psyker to know that there was some terrible personal tragedy buried there, and while he was one of the best operatives Ibrahim had worked with he was too restless to be an ideal travelling companion.

With a jolt, he realised that he was becoming distracted - it must be the presence of the assassin, whom he could feel following them though he could not hear his movements. With the Culexus' presence hovering like an acrid cloud in his perceptions he was letting his mind wander, and had probably revealed too much already. He hastily returned to his conversation with Inquisitor Storm, vowing silently that he would be more careful in future.

_"In any case, these killings must be stopped. If word spreads that this cult can kill with impunity, and that even the Holy Inquisition is not safe, then the whole system may revolt. Which, I suppose, could be what they want."_


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## blazinvire (Jun 12, 2009)

The world seemed a blur, colours blended into one another and shapes distorted, there was barely the recognisable figure of the one designated as her owner. But that was all Kystra needed.
Her mind was blissfully empty except for the light stream of thoughts in her subconscious, random contemplations and ideas she got from that which passed under her stare.
Kystra's eyes were unfocused and wide, mindlessly staring into space like she was watching something that wasn't there, and even though she occasionally looked around at where she heard voices from, her eyes still looked distant as if she wasn't actually looking at you at all.
At least not your physical self perhaps...

She wasn't one to pay a great deal of attention, so she barely realised there were others in the room, only really bothered checking because she felt that subtle ripple in the Warp that told of a strong presence, another psyker nearby.
In the process of finding said psyker, she did discover a few other people, though it wasn't like that mattered, only her owner mattered at this point in time, mindlessly following said owner in the background.

As she took a breath her body gave out an involuntary shiver, as if it had suddenly gotten cold yet she was quite pleasantly warm.
No, it was the ever-persistent feeling of her skin crawling and her insides being unsettled, finally building up after some time, ever since she'd come anywhere near that figure with the funny object attached to his head.
Then again it also seemed the same with the other figure that was often around her owner, perpetually leaving Kystra unsettled but she'd never speak of it.
The pain in her mind had also wiled away to a dull throb, eventually becoming negligible for her to ignore as it had been with her for as long as she'd been with her new owner.

She'd been told her owner would be joining other Inquisitors, that she had to be careful and obey everything, though those at the Asylum as she'd come to call it, were always telling her to be careful and be obedient, so it wasn't like they were telling her anything different. Asides from that it was: Always carry your staff.
Odd concept really, the staff had electrocuted her countless times, even told that it had the ability to kill her under the right circumstances, yet she never left the staff for long.

For now she would remain silent and follow Alice like a mindless servitor, anyone with a bit of observation skills may notice the bionics around her neck and quite possibly mistake her for the mindless servitor that she acted like.

OOC: It's alright, no one's perfect


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## Asamodai (Oct 19, 2008)

They had entered the mess hall shortly before. Lucas had followed his Lord in, two steps behind and one step to the right, a position he had long since deemed his own and one that had proven it's worth more than once before today. He had looked around, up into the high decorated ceilings held uloft by ornate pillars, topped with sweeping arches. Then along, the great length of the hall, so far he could not make out the indentity of those at it's opposite end yet each was set imaculatley, as if the room were to host the greatest of royal feasts. Despite he usual stern appearance, Lucas couldn't help smiling at it. He enjoyed reminders of why he had left the life of a Guardsman behind. This beat eating dry vacuum sealed ration packs and sitting in the mud any day.

He now sat beside his Lord Cain, to his right hand side as the Inquisitor sat at the head of the table. Usually he would have expected the Preacher to have joined them but not todat. Lucas thought little of his absence and welcomed the relative quiet it afforded as he ate.

He looked thouroughly out of place, a social occurance he took some pleasure in these days. He had parted himself with his combat attire. He sat by the table, draped in a fresh clean cloth and laid out with a multitude of finely crafted cutlery utensils, wearing his old battered urban combat fatigues and a once white undershirt that was now a grey-brown colour through years of sweat and dirt absorbtion. The assorted utensils remained untouched as a leg of meat was clutched in his hand, the juices beginning to flow towards his wrist or drip onto his shirt, leaving patches of pale red amongst the old dirt.

Many seemed to have come and gone while they had sat. Many simply crew members but it was the other Ordo agents that interested him and they were not difficult to pick out. For the most part it was simply a case of picking out those without a uniform. His Lord was the better judge of character though. Taking the time to swallow another enthusiastic bite of red meat, Lucas spoke.

"Anyone you know?" he said quietly, avoiding any unwanted attention.


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## Lord Ramo (Apr 12, 2009)

Alice nodded thoughtfully at Ibrahims answer. There was more too it then he was letting on, she was sure of it. Alice wouldn't dig any deeper though, content enough with his answer. She nodded to a veteran guardsmen as they passed him, as he seemed to be in another Inquisitors retinue the black armour making him stand out. She looked at her own retinue, pausing in thought as she evaluated them all again. Kystra was a powerful pysker and a very useful addition though it must be painful being next to Morsus for so long. She had talked to Morsus and made a point for him to leave Kystra well alone. She did annoyingly call Alice master though, something she didn't particually like to be called. Morsus, not much personality like most assassins, but incredibly useful, and powerful even if he was dissrespectful at times. Finally Dimitri, useful, loyal even though he was drunk most of the time. She turned her attention back to Ibrahim realising she had been quiet for too long.

_"Yes the cultists must be stopped before the entire system revolts against the Emperor. Hopefully, we will find our fellow Inquisitors as well."_

She wondered what other Inquisitors were on board the ship, she was sure that she would find out soon enough however so she didn't mention it to Ibrahim.


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## Lord of the Night (Nov 18, 2009)

Alexander raised his eyes slightly as his blunt ally left the room. Behind the smiling visage of his mask nobody would ever know his true expressions, and most would not want to. Sitting cross legged in his chair, flanked by both of his mysterious guards. Clad in similar dress to their charge they stood sentinel, watching for any threats posed to their master.

Alexander had resolved to wait out the majority of the journey in the Librarium. Other Inquisitors were uncomfortable in his presence, mainly because they could not read him like they could read others. Alexander was a mystery, his actions and motives shrouded in shadows that nobody could see through, and this was how he liked it. His actions and motives were not for others to know, at least no other humans. He leaned back and pondered the nature of this mission, he knew that he must be there and why he must be there. It was only a matter of time until both came to fruition.


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## CommissarHorn (Apr 14, 2008)

Dimitri couldn't help but laugh. It was a growing amusement for him to see the reactions of other people when Morsus was around. Dimitri was a Blank himself and felt nothing from the assassin although others obviously did and the veteran Captain laughed again, sensing that Morsus was enjoying the attention he was getting.

Dimitri knew what the assassin was, Storm had explained it to him. She had also warned him not to warm himself to Morsus because of the assassin's 'Ice cold' character. Dimitri chuckled to her, boasting that he was a Valhallan and that no ice or freezing cold could harm him.

Inquisitor Storm had also explained to Dimitri his own abilities as a Blank, and that as feint as his aura affecting others was (normal humans could not feel him) he was still an irritation to Psykers and so she advised him not to seek company with their new Sanctioned Psyker, Krysta.

"He's a bloody Cullexus assassin", Dimitri had strode over to the other pair and gripped the questioning follower's hand, shaking it tightly. "I'm Captain Strashilov," Dimitri's accent was heavy Valhallan. "The Psyker is Krysta and the skin tight assassin can introduce himself if he wants to. He has no soul so thats why you feel so damn shit around him."

Dimitri laughed, he had drunk alot but apart from the smell of alcohol and a few slurred movements, his mind was still sober, it always was, it took alot for it not to be.

His massive sword clanked as it bumped against his legs under the great coat and he re-slung the hellgun on his shoulder, getting it into a better position. The only remnants of his old Valhallan uniform that Dimitri still wore, were his coat and officer cap, which sat firmly on his head in a formal position.

Pushing his cap onto a slant, Dimitri moved into step with Morsus and taking a clear glass bottle out of his coat, screwed off the cap and drank a few mouthfuls from it. "I thought assassins weren't allowed the luxury of pleasure Morsus, haha, I can tell your enjoying yourself."

Turning to the blonde one, Dimitri offered him his bottle. "So where did you serve, brother?


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## deathbringer (Feb 19, 2009)

"He's a bloody Cullexus assassin", the drunk declared

. "I'm Captain Strashilov," the captain's accent was heavy Valhallan. "The Psyker is Krysta and the skin tight assassin can introduce himself if he wants to. He has no soul so thats why you feel so damn shit around him."

Culexus, anti psyker, no wonder he gave him the creeps. A glass bottle was being extedned to him and he took it a little hint of surprise on his face, maybe the nauseating scent was more of a disguise. He sniffed the bottle and a drink, familiar yet foreign touched his nostrils yet he couldn't quite place it. He was confident he could take it, tongues loosened, as did trouser buttons, but more importantly tongues loosened over a drink.

Men gave things away, revealed secrets so Troy had drunk his fair share in his time with Ibrahim. Maybe he couldn't out drink the drunk but refusing a drink was a sign of rejection and rejection guarded mines.

"My name... Captain Troy Raef... Your health" he whispered, swigging on the bottle and holding his face emotionless as the liquid's foul taste slipped over his palate. That was alcohol for a Valhallan, yikes, the guy must have destroyed his taste buds.

A spreading warmth in his stomach changed his opinion slightly whilst the drink mellowed to give a pleasant after taste.

"So where did you serve, brother?" muttered the guardsman

"Vengeance, brother" the veteran looked a little surprised yet Troy continued "The planet of vengeance, Eventually due to a succession of brutal campaigns against the greenskins was made a captain of the 35th avengers. I would go so far as to say it was a pity promotion for my survival, especially as any sort of promotion is rare for a sniper. Yourself?"

He took another swig of the liquid masking the foul grimace once more

"this stuff is foul, worse than the avengers moonshine, one day i'll show you a drink that knocks your balls off and tastes good into the bargain"

He smiled a small shy, yet flirtatious smile over the guardsmans shoulder at kystra.

She was a psyker but in the presence of a blank she couldn't read his mind.

Troy made a mental reminder to keep very close to Dimitri and the assassin from now on. He mustered his resolve just in case the psyker was standing outside, Dimitri's blank range.

Keeping his mind as blank as possible, refusing the emotions of disgust and loathing that threatened him, he approached the psyker, extending a hand

"Captain Troy Raef" He pushed his real name away, pushed the memories of his family, his mother, his lovers back into his subconcious.

He forced flashes of desire to flitter across his mind, letting lust spread across his face as he looked at the augmented disfigured face, fuck it let her think he had a thing for her, let him think he wanted her, he pushed the desire to the forefront of his mind. 

Did psykers, need love, did they desire human contact? he didn't know, he had never had to try and seduce a psyker or an inquisitor.

The question was a good one and he allowed it to slip out, to worm its way to the front of his mind, would she feel his desire, would she feel that it was a projection, did she feel anything?

Jesus psykers unnerved him. 

He extended a hand, would she shake it or just slap him across the face. Either way it would tell him something


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## Farseer Darvaleth (Nov 15, 2009)

Karkasor lay on the ground long before any feeling returned to him. The brew was a powerful knock-out drug; but it was incomplete. Priest though he was, he was no scientist. The draught knocked him down, removed any power he may have retained over his limbs, numbed the pain, but left his brain active. In a way, his mistake had made the drink a perfect success.

In the time he lay there, he came to grips with the pain. He felt it return slowly, rather than instantly when he awoke; which would have made him reach for another gulp. No, instead he slowly acclimatised, the agonising burning melting under his indomitable willpower. His faith. Cautiously, he stood up, steadying himself on the basin. A spike of pain shot throough him; he had used his burnt arm. Clenching his teeth, Martor set about flushing away the concotion. He threw the cloth he had held in his mouth into the waste-collector, before looking at his handiwork. He was impressed.

The chains had melded perfectly, his mutilated flesh pulled over the top. In time, his skin would regrow completely over the chains. Reaper had a remedy for that too. Taking the needle from the basin where he'd left it, Karkasor injected the scar-tissue enzyme-enhancer into his burnt arm. What should've taken months would take only a few days. He had spent months preparing for this moment.

"At last... a sign of my faith." he whispered, gripping the cold brass Imperial Eagle in his hand. "At last..." He pulled his robe over the arm, covering the ghastly wounds. His cream robes were looking a bit worse for wear; many battles had seen it turn shabby. The crimson lining was fading, and the cream was dulled. However, it served to clothe him; to anyone, it would just look like he was holding an Eagle.

Pushing open the booth door, Reaper quickly spotted his master sitting at a table. He shuffled forward, catching the odd glance from other drinkers. Eventually he reached the table, and bowed low to Inquisitor Avitus Cain.

"I am sorry, master. There were matters I had to attend to." he said, quiet enough that only the Inquisitor could hear. Having said this, Karkasor sat on the other side of the Inquisitor, grabbing a strong drink from the table.

"Anything to dull this..." he mumbled, downing the lot, before reaching for another.


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## Gorechild (Nov 29, 2009)

_"Anyone you know?"_ Lucas spoke under his breath. 

"To be honest you would know more of the guardsman than i would, but take note of the one in the black armor. He has taken up with Alexander Ophelius. Now him i have heard of. The only man to ever be accepted by the Harlequins, a truly interesting character." Avitus spoke with less discretion as he took another drink. For whatever reason his youthful look caused most to overlook and underestimate him. Anymore he considered it an advantage rather than an annoyance. Avitus grew a bit impatient as Karkasor joined us looking as if he had been through hell and back. It still shocked him the fierce loyalty that was ingrained in both of his retainers to Avitus. The three of them had forged a brotherhood and Avitus refused to treat them as anything but his brothers.

_"I am sorry, master. There were matters I had to attend to."_ Let out in a dull whisper. 

"I understand Karkasor no explanation is needed." Avitus let out as he snatched up a hunk of bread and handed to him. With every passing minute he was growing more and more uncomfortable. "Its unnerving that the others have not revealed themselves yet so keep a sharp eye and a closed mind." He felt the strong presence of a psycher on bored who would no doubt be probing the minds of all involved in this. The inquisitor had no real psychic talents and neither did either one of his retinue but he was taught to some degree to sense it though. A skill he tried his best to pass on to his followers. To track the subtle changes around them along with teaching them to lock off their minds. Like Lord Grey always told him, _"Wield your mind like any other weapon you have. While we do not have the same abilities as some through training and understanding we can still combat them"_ To clear your mind was ideal but you could also flood your thoughts. Give them too much to read and leave them sifting through useless information. Also focusing painful memories and horrifying visions to push forward like a shot into their mind.All skills he now tried to pass on to Karkasor and Lucas. 

Avitus sat appearing relaxed but feeling quite the opposite as he rooted a bit more through a bowl of small fruits. This was his first time being tapped to work closely with other Inquisitors since his mentor Lord Grey. He was given no real information on who he was working with just the details of the mission. So there Avitus sat with the only two he trusted waiting patiently for the others to reveal themselves.


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## blazinvire (Jun 12, 2009)

Time flowed rather strangely when one's thoughts were absent, almost giving Kystra the sensation that she could control time according to how much she thought. Though if she thought too much there'd be a nasty shock waiting for her.
She didn't even realise someone had approached until they spoke, surprising her a little as she looked towards the figure most likely to own the voice.
Kystra slowly blinked, her eyes slowly came back to focus and she finally looked upon a man who was holding out his hand with introductions put forth. And she wasn't entirely paying attention to it, but there was a whisper at first, a small jar in the Warp which she curiously opened her mind to, finding a stream of thoughts, ideas and feelings.
They had to be coming from that man, Troy was it? It took Kystra a moment to organise the thoughts into something coherent so she could understand it, and at first it put her a little off balance.

Kystra hesitated at first, looking at Troy's face before looking at his hand, slowly passing her staff to her other hand so she could shake it.
Somewhere inside her mind Troy's thoughts were making her blush, but it was merely a suppressed fragment of herself so nothing really happened to her physically.

"I am called Kystra..." Kystra returned a little eerily before looking closely at Troy's eyes, unconsciously staring, she took her hand from his and slowly, gently, reached out for his face, "Did you want...?"
She left the sentence to trail off as she focused on going to touch his face.
In the briefest contact, Kystra transmitted a flurry of thoughts, attempting to sate the man's apparent lust the only way she really knew how any more.
Images of Kystra prior to the surgery, some of them fabricated, some of them manipulated, all to show a passionate encounter that never happened, with a Kystra that was no more.


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## Deus Mortis (Jun 20, 2009)

Marcellus sat and dug heartily into a hunk of meat. He sat alone at the opposite end of the table to anyone else. His blank nature made him repulsive, or at the very least irritating to everyone. So Marcellus often chose to sit alone, and preferred the company of his Inquisitor. Mainly because he actually appreciated his gift. He was un-touchable be the foul creatures of warp. Even those who have become corrupt by the touch of the warp... Marcellus shuddered at how his mind spiraled into a an oblivion of hate for the Daemons and Psykers alike. His Inquisitor's personality was obviously rubbing of on him. He took another bite of meat. It was losing flavour. Marcellus could overhear the others in the hall talking, but had no desire to greet them. Experience had taught him that all people were the same and they all treated him the same. And Marcellus had no desire to share in another pointless abuse session. His Inquisitor bid him good night, and Marcellus returned the bidding. He got up and slid through the hallowed halls and arrived at the fighting rooms. No one else was there, apart from a few mindless servitors. Marcellus picked up his Psycannon. The actually round it fired were to precious to be expended on targets and servitors, so he fed into it a magazine of blanks. He lifted his weapon and fired it with the cold precision that was customary of him. Maybe after an hour or so he would get some rest. Then he would probably come back here to practice some more, his Inquisitor would expect nothing less than flawlessness. Besides, if he failed, he would die. That shocking reality made his aim sharper and his re-load time faster. He needed to be perfect, and Emperor-damn it, he would be...


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## deathbringer (Feb 19, 2009)

She reached out, a delicate touch almost a lovers caress of finger tips upon his smooth skin. He felt the softness of her fingers and he allowed a shy smile to grow across his face, suppressing the feelings of victory that flared inside him, yet the triumph was asphyxiated as a flurry of memories were pushed into his mind

A raven haired woman, pale skinned like a queen of old, icy blue eyes clear, beautifully haunting, the slightest tinge of mischief dancing within there crystalline depths. Yet there was a difference,this was a young Kystra, maybe 14 or 15, her breasts budding roses, her features devoid and untouched, her beauty unspoilt, a ripening fruit. She was beautfiul Troy admitted.

Now another image, it flittered fast almost shimmering with emotion, or perhaps something else, Troy was no psyker so he could not tell. A strapping young boy, like Troy blonde haired, yet his eyes were larger, more dominationg, there green iris's dominating his gaze. A beautiful boy, soft olive skin, slender shoulders and Troy felt emotion stir within him. He suppressed it callously, denying his primal instinct yet he looked on with an apprazing eye, comparing himself to this adonis of youth. It was like looking in a mirror tinged with roses, Troy's defects, the slight wrinkles round his eyes and the long grove upon his forehead, dissapeared, replaced by a smooth supple skin and those haunting eyes, that seemed desperate to rip out his soul.

Young kystra and the boy looked into eachothers eyes and moved together, there lips soft and hesitant, the first faltering touch of two lovers. There lips moved in tandem a hand sliding into his blonde hair his running up the delicate arch of her back. He saw the barest hint of a lovers soul in the way they touched and embraced yet suddenly the image faded to be replaced by the image of Kystra as she was now.

She was naked, the grey robe torn off to reveal cables and implants running up the nabe of her neck and back and the false lust he projected died to be replaced by a well of pity as the images of Kystra's youth died to be replaced by a cold empty husk.

He pulled slowly away from her fingers and looked deep into kystra's icy blue eyes, still haunting yet now dead, the spark of mischevious excitement... crushed.

"Who did this to you? What purpose is worth the price you paid?"

The question was stuttering poorly phrased by Troy backed it up allowing a lance of anger to spike through the warp. His fury that such beauty could be so callously torn down, that a soul could be so willingly destroyed in the name of the imperium. 

His own beautiful features contorted in anger as he stared at her

"For what reason did they destroy your soul?"


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## blazinvire (Jun 12, 2009)

There were brief thoughts of possible happiness that Kystra might have been able to help the man, that she might have achieved something that he appreciated. She was built to serve, though her owner took precedence, she was still obedient to a fault.
For a moment there Kystra thought she had succeeded, but the soul before her changed abruptly at some point, thoughts of lust were replaced with something a little more complex, though she could still sense it was about her.
It felt a little sad... that wasn't what she was aiming for, she must have failed...
Her eyes grew distant once more in a subtle gesture of her own sadness at failure. Useless tools are just that, those iron men from the Asylum always told her that she would be useless the way she was, she had a weakness that was easily exploited.

It was like she didn't even realise what happened to her, the only other possession she owned that wasn't her staff was crumpled around her feet, and she hadn't even blinked.
She heard what he said, or more what he meant to say as she could feel the query in the tone of his voice, and in his thoughts, and the question was still a little lost on her. Though she visibly flinched when she felt a hot surge of anger burst forth from him, making her shrink a little as she felt her failure increasing.

"Subject four ninety-four..." Kystra murmured in a strange tone, like it wasn't her voice, "... you are weak, and you are dangerous, your very existence threatens everyone around you..."
Her head tilted to one side as her thoughts steadily ebbed through her mind, a controlled pace that she had learned so as to not provoke the staff.
"They said they could help..." Kystra whispered, now in her own voice, shifting her staff closer to her, resting both hands and the side of her face on it fondly, like some dear friend even considering the pain it put her through.
"I didn't want to hurt anyone..." Kystra said. She could remember their words as clearly as the day they were spoken to her, blended in with their thoughts. They said so much about how she could hurt people, how much of a nuisance she was to the Imperium as she was now, how useless she was, a flood of propaganda in order to get Kystra to come quietly.
She could hear them thinking: If she tries anything we've gotta kill her fast, but I'd prefer not to waste a prospective subject. It wasn't exactly like that, but it was more or less summarised perfectly like that.

"The four hundredth and ninety-fourth subject," Kystra said with a small sigh.
In the end, regardless of what her former self had wanted, the Imperium just wanted another psyker to experiment on, that much was quite clear since they referred to her with a number instead of a name.
Only after she was a success did she earn her name back. At least, she was a success so far...


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## Asamodai (Oct 19, 2008)

Lucas peered across the room at the man his Lord had mentioned. The Harlequin's he had said. Lucas had heard the word, a couple of times in his previous life. The so called warrior bards of the Eldar. A group of such mystique even the Eldar themselves considered them an enigma. He had fought the Eldar, once. Years ago he had defended a supply depot from them. He didn't think much of them, flying around on their jetbikes. That day none had stopped to fight him, not properly and the memory had stuck.

He kicked his chair back, turning it ninety degrees and shuffled closer to the Inquisitor so the two were almost sat side by side. The legs of the chair screeched unpleasantly across the hard floor before a loud bang heralded the landing of Drell's battered Guard issue boots on the edge of the table. In that time the mad priest had returned but Lucas was paying little attention at tis point. He leaned back and looked over his shoulder at the Inquisitor.

"Eldar hey?" he began before taking another inpolitley large bite of meat. "Why do I have a feeling that's going to come up later?"


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## Lither (Apr 2, 2010)

Junius awoke with a start. Instinctivly he knew he had not slept for any great amount of time. He could hear a slow hissing just at the edge of his hearing. He listened closelt, and he turned cold at what he heard.

"_Junius... Junius..._"

The cursed book knew his name. Junius looked at it and saw it had gathered a dark miasma of energy around it. Junius had no choice. As useful as the book was, it obviously was a heretical device, and should be treated accordingly. He hefted his blessed Thunder Hammer and swung it down thrice upon the accursed objected. A deafening boom exploded out with each, and when he finally stopped, the book was nothing more than ashes scattered around the room. With a sbilant hiss, the ashes reformed into the book, tempting him with hisses of his name. He felt his hand slid towards it, wanting to touch it, hold it, own it. With a wrench greater than any psychic attempt to compell him, he dragged his hand away. He picked his a vial of Holy Water and sprinkled it on the book. The effect was instantanous. It shrivelled up, hissing and steaming, into a lump like curdled milk. The book tried to have the last laugh, and its last action was to cause a massive wave of agony to explode out of it, rippling throughout the vessel. Junius felt pain beyond anything he had felt before. It tore through him like a thunderbolt, untill he could no longer stand it and fled to the refuge of unconciosness. His last thought was how badly the other members would fare against it, before blackness claimed him.


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## BlackApostleVilhelm (May 14, 2008)

Hades sat and watched, his meal had been finished awhile ago and he now sat with a deck of cards in front of him as he "played" by himself, it was a facade but kept his mind sharp because while he concentrated on the game he was also able to study those around him. This was something he had learned when he was a ganger on that hellish world he had called home, it allowed one to stay alive longer then they were supposed to.

He could see an Inquisitor and who he assumed was his lead Gaurd Vet studying him also, something he wanted to laugh at but didn't for the sake of the quietness that was in the room. He knew that the Inquisitor was one named Avitus and was much older then he looked, and that his bodygaurd was named Lucas, each had a track record although the former's was something that he could only get a hold of bits and pieces. 

Lucas had fought for the Imperium in the Imperial Gaurd for many years performing many feats that would gain recognition from the Inquisition and now he was here. It suddenly struck Hades as funny at how much information was actually obtainable on one person if they didn't have the proper protection. He wondered what those that wanted to could find out about his past, he chuckled and smiled to himself, if only they could.


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