Osilus wrenched his cold billhook from the hanging carcass in front of him, he panted and wiped the small beads of sweat from his brow. He turned his attention to the floating servo-skull in front of him. With a struggling flicker the engraved skull projected a holo-pad in front of it's masters face. The pad showed where Osilus had landed his hook and what damage was done to the surrounding tissue of the wound. With a flourish of his tattooed hand Osilus dismissed the drone and placed his billhook on a slab held by a nearby servitor. He pulled the damp towel from his belt and wiped his face dry, slinging the towel over his shoulder he made his way to the deck elevator. He punched the code in to his quarters and waited a short two minutes to reach his deck at the bottom of the ship. Upon exiting the elevator he turned off of the path towards the mess hall and instead entered through a service door, reserved for engineers or servitors on a job and not Inquisitorial staff. The young acolyte shifted through the cramped passage and came to a larger opening with a maintenance room door on every of it's four walls. Osilus punched in his personal pin on the door nearest him and in a clicking and a short series of hisses the door slid away into the wall smoothly. Inside was a cramped room, composing of a thin mattress, lounge pillows and blue mood lights with the odd obscure tapestry here and there. Osilus' room was no bigger than the interior of a chimera tank and it was dim like the tunnels he spent so many years digging in that curse civil war on Birmea. With a smile to himself he lay on the floor removing his holo-lenses from the pits of his aching skull, it had been a long trip in space for him, of course all journeys through the stars were for him.

His room was covered in old pictures of his tunnel team, plasma-lanterns, broken digging tools and his medals of service. Nothing was kept in any specific order or way, but just littered across the floor and small shelves that held his worldly possessions. His mind buzzed and burned from the self-experimentation of combat stims and truth serums mixed by his own hand. He took on the role of interrogator all to seriously after reading about the ways of their trade. Perhaps it was months of thinking about his life in the dark and wanting to try something new should he ever get the chance, serving the Inquisition was that something new. He first joined the Inquisition after being recommended by one agent he saved in Birmea's civil war, giving a good word on those that need the service of subterfuge and fighting. After a few muscle jobs here and there Osilus was finally picked up by Inqusitor Zhevon to fulfil basic guard duties, but eventually the young man's interest turned to the ability to extract information from the fell and the damned. HE had spent two ears acquiring information on human psychology, anatomy and philosophy, purchasing exotic plants and liquids said to make a man spill his darkest secrets with a single droplet. But of course, his favourite would always be learning the ways to harm another with precision and efficiency, hence the requisition of xenos specimens to test more than his serums. 

Hearing his summons to the briefing room via digital transmission within the vox implant in his skull, Osilus wiped away the rest of the sweat and cleaned himself. He dressed in his Birmean armour, slinging his antique rifle over his shoulders and securing his weapons and satchel full of tools. He fixed fresh lenses to the integrated frames around the pits that lead inward to his eye sockets, they helped him see in the light, see the beating heart of those guilty of Heresy through walls and scan a specimen of structural weaknesses be they construct or organic. Osilus shifted back through the tunnel of steam and pipes and journeyed to the briefing room.

Upon arrival, Osilus blinked his lenses into a different opticla setting, to ease his eyes to the light of this new room. He made a firendly smile towards Ben, a veteran of Armageddon and a true man of strength. Gregor, a man who tested Osilus' patience from time to time but still he served as a fine rival to the acolyte. The Armsman, a solider at heart and a suited mentor to the young and eager. The Psyker... the one he distrusted. Finally there was the Inquisitor the man he aspired to be above all else.

[color=0072bc]"Sorry if I'm late everybody, I have no true sense of time nor eagerness in the void of space." [/color]