Governor-Colonel Maximillian Herbert Brutus Angus Von Stephan the Third – constantly reminding others, even in his official title, that he had once been in command of a regiment of the Guard – looked at the dataslate in his one gloved hand and allowed the smirk on his half-human face to spread across the half that could still smile and had lips to do so; the other half, the one made completely of metal, frozen always in a metallic grimace of iron and a baleful bionic eye, remained at odds and completely motionless.

“Tell me, Bagot,” he intoned in a voice that changed tone and pitch as he spoke, half of it emitted from a severely scarred throat, “what is today?”

Wilhelm Bagot, aide to the Governor-Colonel and all around sycophant, his slicked back hair as greasy as his very character, took a look at his own dataslate and giggled a reply, “today is purging day, my lord.”

“Just so, toady, just so!” Even his fractionally human voice could not contain the outright glee that he felt within his soul at the very mentioning of a purge – a tradition on Ephron Five that went back to the latter-most years of the Heresy, and one that had been retained ever since.

“Tell me then, what have we got planned for our beloved citizens today?”

“Well...several squads of Arbites have been sent into the Upperhive to gather-” he paused momentarily and gave a small cough, “to gather [i]tax money[/i] for your lords treasury. A dozen more are converging into the Lower Hive, backed by vehicles and cyber-mastiffs; they are heading toward a particularly troublesome drinking spot where known felons are said to converge. It should be a simple case of walking in and arresting them.”

“And?”

“Proctor Waits wanted to lead several contingents into the Underhive itself, show the scum of the arse end of the Hive how Imperial justice tastes. To this end he has near forty men, all heavily armed and experienced, apparently there is a particularly nasty blood-cult on the loose, the 'Skarblades' they call themselves.”

“What fanciful names these gangers make for themselves! Ratskins, Deaths Heads, Turf Bruisers, Flesh Gougers...Skarblades.” Von Stephan shook his head at the idiocy, “well, lets allow Waits to make an example of them then, eh?”

“Yes indeed, lord.”

The two silenced themselves before breaking into quiet chuckles, their humour growing and growing, before both began to laugh quite vocally.

“Break out the wine, Bagot, I have a thirst on me.”


[hr]


[@Bright_Ops][@Sophrus][@Eisenhorn][@BCTheEntity][@Lady Selune]


Arbitrator Emilia held her shotgun close to her body, the matted carapace armour making barely a sound as she and nearly thirty other Arbites closed in on a bar known as the 'Pointed Star' – a bar of lowlifes, smugglers and even a heretic from time to time. They had decided to walk from their vehicles some feet away in order not to spook the patrons, and thus far it seemed to have worked. Proctor Bolt, his commanding frame visible at the front of the column, held up his hand and motioned them to move with him.

Once close enough that he was certain none could escape, Bolt clenched his fist and stood upright from his half-crouched position, “now!” With a firm yell and a swing of his shotgun from side-to-side, he stepped into the bar, “stay where you are, you are all under arrest for crimes against the Imperium, do [b]not[/b] move!”


[hider=Please Read] Righto, there you are! You can attempt to escape, actually escape, or you can pick a fight with the Arbites. I'd suggest working together to get out of there, but that's up to you lot.[/hider]


[hr]


[@Ollumhammersong]


The Taurox column, eight armoured vehicles in all, the Imperial Aquila clearly visible on there front and sides, rumbled through the morass of dross and grime that was the Underhive of Ephron Five. From the viewing slit of the foremost machine glared the ice-blue eyes of Proctor Waits, his hand opening and closing about the haft of his power maul with a regularity that was almost mechanical.

“You understand what you must do?” His smooth voice questioned the men behind him, “these bloodthirsty lunatics are to be given and shown no mercy, yes?”

“The Emperor wills it,” intoned the gathered squad, each unmoving in their seats except for their mouths.

“Good...these gangers are wily, but the Arbites are better.”

They rumbled on, and on, deeper into a chasm from whence many Arbites had not come back before.


[hider=Please Read] Feel free to ambush the column, [b]not[/b] ambush it, use this opportunity to get to the next level up of the Hive. I'll react to what you do, so go nuts.[/hider]