POOHEAD189

The Enemy Beyond: Warhammer 40,000 Inquisitor RP

"Unfortunately, we don't have the firepower or numbers to do that. Nor the time to acquire them." I said, popping some beef into my mouth and chewing casually. The sorcerer and his followers had a definitive headstart, and I was loathe to wait even for these reinforcements. A few hundred aristocratic honorguard, astra militarum reserves, and PDF volunteers would have to do. In all, there was about three hundred and eighty seven men, not including the Inquisitors and their retinues. Depending on where we would land and search, that was pitifully little. "He's a week ahead of us. The best we can do is look for him and make sure he doesn't leave orbit without being destroyed or pursued."

Lazarus approached from behind, and I heard it as a fox heard the small thumps of a rabbit. Or perhaps the roles were reversed, in this case.

"The shuttle has been acceptably modified as per your request, Hadrian," Lazarus said through his vox speaker. I, childishly, mouthed every word he said in a manner I could only say was exaggerated. Lazarus always said the same thing when he was done with his chores on the shuttle, and usually he said something similar on different items of equipment. I saw Emmaline looking my way and I tried to hide a smile at my own unprofessionalism, but I failed spectacularly.

"Very good, Laz. Once we make it back to Pacitus we'll fix it up together. Have you finished the other tasks I wished for?"

"I calculate I am seventy percent finished. But, if I am correct, you seem not to have finished your Emmaline goal."

I nearly spat out my food, but thank the throne I was able to hold it in. I looked at Lazarus, and yet again his face was neutral. I could tell he was trying to get a rise out of me, however. At my look, he elaborated. "You gave me your schedule for the day. Combat training for our newest recruit, was it not?"

"Yes, but that was for later. We're merely eating, now." I said, but I regretted it. Lazarus gave a bow and began walking away, saying 'when was the last time you let anyone else take a break?' and I kept myself from getting up and having it out just here and there. I knew for certain this time he was being difficult. There was little to do on this ship but wait for arrival as it was. I merely got Lazarus to fix the shuttle to keep him busy. But perhaps something to focus on would help Emmaline get through the day.

"Well, seeing as if we've just eaten and you're dressed for only one of the two, let's focus on guns instead of close combat for today, shall we?"

We finished our food and drink, and made our way down to the bow of the ship, where Urien and crew had set up a 50 meter shooting range that was used for cargo space when I did not require their services. Fully sixty meters long and twenty meters high, the floor was steel and had been meticulously painted to mark distance. Fiber-polymer dummies had been arrayed at 25 meters to the full 50 meter mark, and on the table under plexi-glass were varying guns. Auto and Las pistols, rifles, carbines, and even a plasma pistol. Though it had very limited ammo.

I took an autogun, and went through the basics of how to operate one. I knew she had some familiarity, but it never hurt to be careful with lethal weapons. Once that was finished...

"Stand feet slightly further apart than shoulder width. Make sure you're comfortable. Lean forward slightly to account for recoil, hold the grip hard, but not so hard you're shaking. Hold the grip in your right hand, and use your left hand to steady. Use your left eye to aim down the sight, and pull the trigger as you exhale with controlled, easy breathing." I said, demonstrating every word, before handing her the gun and standing to the side.

She took it gingerly, clearly having heard my autogun and had some trepidation on handling one. Mirroring my stance, her elbow a bit low and her stance a bit nervous, she still did not do terrible. She hit three out of five targets near center mass at 25 meters, and managed to snag one at 50 meters. The gunshots were loud, but we got used to them quickly. Only on her seventh shot did she accidentally pull the trigger when not aiming entirely in the right direction, squawking like a bird and dropping the gun as the bullet ricocheted and thankfully fell harmlessly 11 meters away.

Wiping the sweat from my brow, I got her a laspistol. "Let's try one without recoil," I said. As the minutes went by, I showed her a few of the other guns and explained the plasma pistol, which she seemed interested in until I told her there was a 5% chance it could explode and immolate your body in seconds and it was a hard pass from her. I had to admit that despite her lack of experience, seeing her hold a gun in that dress was compelling.

"Very good," I said, stepping toward her position on the range. "Better than I expected."

She blew imaginary smoke out of the laspistol barrel. "Easy enough."

I smirked, a twinkle in my eye. "Really? It takes more than an afternoon to be a sharpshooter. But as you're so sure, let's make it more interesting. Five shots, each of us. Our gun of choice. Whoever hits the most wins the wager."

"What are we betting on?"

"Let's decide that after the fact, shall we?"

WoT: The Dark One's Own Luck.

The borderlander listened intently, as if she were his commander barking out marching orders. He was at once both relieved his theory had been right, and unnerved of the same. This meant the Trollocs were planning something, perhaps a larger raid on one of the hamlets up north. He needed to go and tell his commander before something was done! But as the Aes Sedai spoke, Markus' expression changed without his face or stance moving a muscle.

"Ogier," he said flatly. He looked at her, and by the light she looked like she was telling the truth as she knew it. It still agitated him to no end.

"That..." He started, but let it trail away. He was going to say 'that doesn't help,' when she mentioned the Ogier. Fairy-tails and barroom legends had little to do with the very real threat of these trollocs. But he wasn't going to get angry with her, despite his prejudices. He had come here seeking answers and she had provided. At least he had an idea of where another band might attack next. The only lake in the region was easy to find, being the largest body of water connected to the river Arinelle.

"My thanks," He said, without any of the preamble most Aes Sedai were used to. He did not bow or even grant a smile. He was tired, hungry, and he had another two days ride left before he could really indulge in either. Markus bent down and retrieved the arm, wrapping it back up in the cloth. He would dispense with it outside the town when he first made camp. The winter had lasted long this year, and though it was finally starting to warm up, the nights were chilled, particularly in Jaradime.

He was halfway to the door with the pack slung across his strong back when she stopped him.
@Penny

The Enemy Beyond: Warhammer 40,000 Inquisitor RP

I looked at her with a naked tenderness. Emmaline always took life with a devil-may-care attitude, but she seemed more contemplative here. I should never forget she was, at her core, a woman who had been thrown across the imperium and used for other's gain. It was something I should always keep in mind. I didn't think she was about to burst into tears, but this was all clearly new to her. I spoke a modicum more softly.

"I've only been there three times," I admitted, sipping my drink. "And only once since I became an Inquisitor. I've been on Bahometus's trail for years now." Kronus requisitioned the world for what he often joked as a place to 'retire,' but I knew he acquired it for my sake. "I think it's been twenty five terran months since last I saw it, but I get missives from there every now and again from my staff stationed there, when I get back to one of my hubs. It's lovely. I wouldn't necessarily say I take a vacation, but we can only find and change so much wrong in the galaxy, and if I have no leads, I would like to be some place comfortable."

"It's your home too," I said carefully. "I'm too stubborn to die or let someone die on my watch." Especially to that bastard, I thought to myself. "When we get there, you'll be able to shop and travel around to your heart's content. Perhaps not with unlimited funds, like now. Inquisitors have carte blanche in a sense, but our peers keep us in check. If I started throwing parties every night for years rather than doing my job, that might be frowned upon. But we'll have enough to where you wouldn't really need to think on spending too much."

"Tell me about your home," She said, looking as if she was far away.

I told her of the manor. It wasn't massive, but it could house two dozen staff in the outer buildings and could suit a family of eight in the main house. It was nestled on the outskirts of the small city of Corbah, near the main continent's massive river system at the apex of its estuary. I told her of the asteroid showers that fell three times a year, and the two red moons that waxed and waned with the seasons. There was fishing and swimming, shopping and even traveling festivals. The most important holiday on the planet was the Day of Bounty and The Festivals of Fruit, where the trees and flora were always seen as suitable to be picked and the following fortnight was full of parties and the most outrageous but tasty fruit recipes one ever had. By the end of my little guide tour, I realized I had not eaten since hours before I had fallen asleep.

"You hungry? We can go and fetch something from the kitchens and eat somewhere, or we can bring food in here..."

Admittedly I wanted to simply eat and spend time with her, and I imagined I was transparent in that regard, but I also didn't want to bore her. I couldn't tell if she was just out of reach still, or even if she wanted to go elsewhere. I wouldn't stop her if she did.

WoT: The Dark One's Own Luck.

Markus Flenbraik had been in Barsine only three times before. On Cauldigan street, he had broken up a fight with a woman and her pot-belly husband before daggers were drawn. On his second trip, he had won the favor of the gate captain by beating his honor-guard at dice, though he felt he had nearly lost his head from the exchange. Twice he had ascended the overbright golden towers the city was famous for, and no matter how often he trekked through the vast hill-country, he always loathed going up those spiral stairs. The walls were foreboding and he felt someone was going to offer him a southern drink with a pithy comment on his manner before he reached the top.

So far, he had not had to endure something troublesome as he rode through the multitudes of the city. The men and women wore the typical fashion of urban Jaramide, with loose breeches and earrings that threatened to be ostentatious, if not overtly so. The women were keen eyed and hard working and the bearded men had a knack for mercantilism, if the stories were true. Markus had seen enough interactions to testify the stereotypes had merit.

The light shined on him, as he needn't go up four thousand winding steps or butt heads with anyone unaccustomed to a member of the Dh'aeir'whod, known as the Stormbearers to some, and Outriders to others. Jaradine's light cavalry division did not see much action these days beyond the occasional trolloc raid or banditry. Trained to fight with the sword and the lance, and even the bow and the knife in some regard, though the latter two were less specialized now that the need for wilderness scouting less needed than it had been closer to the breaking. Most patrols stayed closer to the their garrisons and the townlets they shielded from ruffians and the like. Only twice a year did the Outriders stray further than a score of miles beyond the northern-most city, Barsine, and that was merely a tradition nowadays some did not even heed enough to attend. Yes, the light shined on Markus. Today, he would see an Aes Sedai.

He would rather be assaulted again by drunken street toughs or say, ascending one of the towers and then being thrown out of the top of one.

He did not think they were witches or true dangers as some folk did. Mostly because they did not have time to be dangerous, with their noses in the books and their cares in the stars above. Markus, through some form of contemptuous irony, had found the one thing he knew an Aes Sedai would be good at: knowledge. And so he went to the biggest and closest city he could, and true enough, he found one lounging in the Library of Kelcis. Word of an Aes Sedai traveled far, and it hadn't taken him long to learn of her whereabouts. He awaited her to admit him in, and thankfully he needn't wait long. The man Ynild approached him awaiting in the foyer, urging him to follow.

"You're lucky. She seems to have the time for you," He told Markus, who looked at the pretentiously dressed man and decided not to comment on his remark. Instead, the soldier thought it better to ask: "What is her name?"

"Lady Lysabel of the White Ajah. She has many titles but I don't think you'll need to know them all." Ynild said, and both of them knew Ynild did not know them all himself. The two walked for another dozen strides, and then he opened the grey-white door for Markus to step into the courtyard.

Had he been a different man, he might have been caught by the beauty of the scene. Cherry trees and blossoms shined in the sunlight, well cut and soft grass tickling the ankles as the lady in white sat on a long chair, looking up from her book to regard him. But he was not that sort of man.

Markus and her could not look more different. He could sort of tell she was a slim, pretty woman with blonde hair that shined like the sun and a white shawl with small aesthetic trimmings he couldn't see from the glare. Markus felt dirty in comparison, though he was cleaner now than he had been in some weeks. His travel clothes were dark shades of green and brown, and his thick, dark hair was unkempt, save for a rough knot tied at the center behind his head, making a small ponytail in the midst of the rest of his mane. Under his leather he was garbed in scaled armor of well-made steel. He was unshaven, a coarse goatee darkening his perhaps-handsome features. Though he looked almost like a bandit himself, bore weapons, and carried a bag of something unknown, she didn't look intimidated.

A few seconds of waiting, and Markus walked forward. He had the gait of someone used to crouching in silence and contrasting it with explosions of movement, like a large cat or some terror from far within blight.

"Lady Lysabel, I am Markus. One of the Jaradime Outriders." He explained, unused to formality to anyone but his commander. It felt strange on his tongue, but if he insulted her she might not give him what he sought. He sometimes paused in the story, never having been much of an orator. "Three days ago, four comrades and I came upon a small hunting party of Trollocs. We get them from time to time. If we catch them by surprise, we can usually route them without much problem. These ones seemed...different than the others. More sure of themselves... Only I survived."

Markus began to unwind the grey fabric he had brought. Something heavy tumbled inside as he dropped it to the ground and pulled on the weave. "When the last of my party was dead and I butchered the last monster, I saw something on its arm. Something I could not read, but felt was foul. On the hill above, I thought I saw a rider watching. Someone swathed in black, but when I looked again they were gone. I rode two nights to get here and ask for you to tell me what exactly this says."

Sure enough, the fabric was pulled away and a putrid, hairy arm that nearly matched Lysabel in size lay on the soft grass of the opulent courtyard. Its hands so human-like, but bent and clawed. On its arm were etchings that turned the stomach, and Markus could not begin to guess their meaning, save only it was a dark message.

Rise to The Top: Medieval Intrigue RP

He had to admit, she was good. Even as he closed his eyes, he knew he was going to see it her way, even if he did not see how at the current moment. Silke wasn't wholly wrong. Galt did have a soft spot for those less fortunate, as he had been. But it wasn't the bleeding heart she might hope for, and ironically that was also a factor borne of his upbringing. He had been too busy trying to survive himself for him to care if other people did or not. But then she mentioned the Duke, and perhaps he was just kidding himself. He had saved the old codger when he did not have to.

He found he had a difficult time around her as she spoke and handled the horses. It was true, Galt didn't have a formal education, but there was a difference between memorizing passages from an old tome and true intelligence. Silke was persuasive and skilled, and he found that wildly attractive. True, she did not have some child's fairy-tail gossamer beauty like a few of the women at court played at, but only a fool would think her anything but comely, and she seemed both brilliant and witty.

"I don't think you're too severe. Though I would argue that's their failing rather than yours." The scoundrel retorted as he did his best to mirror her movements on her mount, trying to get his horse to be on the handsome trot hers had taken. Galt was a quick learner and could 'fake' it well enough, and so he attempted it. "And thank you, sometimes I put on an act so stupid I begin to think that I am by night's end." He finished that with a flash of a grin.

The wind picked up just a for a brief moment, but it only alleviated the fog slightly. Insects had begun to chirp, but not in great droves. The weather was not warm as of yet, and the country still needed some time to shake the trappings of winter before spring. He supposed his noticing of their surroundings told him the trail was finite and brought him back to reality. He had already made his decision, anyway. "I think only a madman or a fool would think they can dissuade you now, and since we both fancy myself as neither, I suppose I will accept your offer on the proviso that I even know what you are asking of me."

His horse stamped and shook its head, but did not stop. He couldn't tell if he was doing something very right or very wrong. Placing a hand on the beast's powerful neck, he soothed it. He had nothing against steeds or animals. Hell, a horse had made it possible for Galt to find himself in this strange forest escorting a noblewoman to her home. "You should tell me what exactly you are proposing, my lady, before I decide to leap straight into something. Are you asking us to become allies? Are we to have secret rendezvous' and discuss matters of politics and who our enemies are? I don't mean to sound theatrical, but I honestly don't know what the specific details you wish of me. If you're asking whether or not we could have more rides like this and a few dinners with less interruptions, sure. But how would you counsel me, and what would you get in return?"

Galt hoped he wasn't being too straight forward. He rather liked their banter and teasing, but he could do that sort of sparring after they made the rules so she nor he would overstep bounds and would have a clear goal. "Also, if we'll see each other more, I'll respect your boundaries and wishes. I'm not really the marriage type, but I'll flirt occasionally. But I do that anyway, so I hope that's ok. If it's not, I'll do my best to rein it in. I value our admittedly recent friendship if nothing else."

The Enemy Beyond: Warhammer 40,000 Inquisitor RP

I put on something that I was to use as Blasius Deckard had our mission lasted a few more days. A handsome, navy colored button down and relatively expensive brown trousers. My casual albeit sturdy boots betrayed my inquisitorial manner, but I suppose other than the fact I had not shaved for two days, I looked less like an inquisitor now than I had for a long stretch of time. I was surprised there was someone waiting in my office that I cared enough to be embarrassed around. In three nights she had alleviated my concerns over her heretical nature and we had gained mutual respect. A little over a week after that we saved one another's life and kissed on the balcony, and merely what, a day later? We had decided to pursue some sort of romantic relationship, and now a week after that we finally had time to actually speak. Things moved quickly, and I would have laughed if someone said I was thinking about anything else but Bahometus on the journey to Danubis. Granted, he did flash in my mind more frequently than I would have liked, and I was busy building my strategy for when we reached the dead planet's orbit. It was a miracle the other two Inquisitors had allowed me a generous amount of authority on this matter, as they were both almost a century in the game.

I walked out of my closet, smoothing my hair as I sat opposite of her. I had heard every word, and I was not certain if something was on her mind or if she was feeling lost. I never had the luxury of the latter, but the former I was in a perpetual state of experience. I idly took one of the glasses of amasec she had poured, but I didn't drink it as of yet.

"I can understand, believe it or not." I admitted, swirling the drink as I considered for a moment. "When we first spoke, I gave you three options. I know you chose to work under myself out of pragmatism. There's no shame in that. And the last few weeks have been harrowing or deceptive. But it's not all chasing phantoms across the stars. If Danubis turns out to be the end of this ruinous cell, Urien will need to return to his duties as a Rogue Trader, and Lazarus, you, and I will return home."

She looked curious, and I took it as a cue to explain. "I own six different holdings on as many systems, but I only have one home. Pacitus is beautiful, I'm sure you'll love it. If Urien has the same route, we'll be there for eight months while I try to find another way for us to find something that might kill us. During that time, things will be more like this moment. Genuine."

It was then I took the drink, curious on her thoughts.

A Thousand Legends ~ Sundered Veil

A Business Opportunity

---

As the fireworks burst and echoed across the teeming masses of the vast herd of folk that had congregated, Yazju hummed a bizarre tune of his home. He was almost unable to notice the gaiety and pops of the blackpowder toys, as he was very single minded in short spurts. Every once in awhile, he would look up in awe, mouth opening as he hissed in delight. But ever were his eyes on his stock, wary of pickpockets like a mother hen watchful of predators threatening her clutch. More than that, he wanted to be as attentive to any passerby that was interested in his wares as a Zauri could be.

A few had shown delight at his varied array of Omamori. He had spent many long hours carving them and granting them what blessings he knew to grant. One line of talismans depicted a plump elephant sitting up like a dog, and another line were shaped into a rotund but happy medicine woman who's likeness Yazju had seen once during his travels. He had accrued the wood to carve a dozen lions with the great demonic faces of the Yongcun Imperial Lion statues placed around the city. Lastly, he had wrought twenty small idols of Runiq, meticulously chipping at them until they were as smooth as marble, for he felt the great dragon watched his work.

After the initial few looks, and two purchases, no one else had so much as nibbled. A few had looked at his presence with concern, but he did not try and speak or gather more of their attention. Yazju had learned that was a losing proposition. Many were intimidated by his great form, though he did not understand why beyond his strangeness. He did not judge them for their stubby legs and tenuous builds, not to mention the lack of a tail!

No, he did not. In fact, he felt a kinship with the people of this vast land. They made merry in the streets, cavorting and dancing and talking, the worries of the day draining from their minds. They were curious of the world, like Yazju. Here, at the edge of the world, one could be whatever they wished if they but worked at it. Yazju watched the crowds of people with a tilted head when he was not fidgeting with his knickknacks, the items in question having been arrayed on a small table at the corner of a street connected to the grand square where all awaited the sovereign emperor to make an appearance.

A school of citizens passed by his small stall like the stream of a current through the ocean. A few of them stopped and spoke in hushed whispers, pointing at Yazju and a couple dark eyes examined his Omamori. Patiently he watched them, trying not to seem too eager. Luckily, his facial muscles were not so pronounced as to be noticed by the human eye. Five stepped up to his small corner, three men and two women. Behind the skirts of the latter, a small human poked their head out and looked at Yazju with curiosity. The group looked like laborers from outside the walls, or perhaps in a factory from within the capital.

"How much for one?" The first man asked, making his mustache wiggle like a caterpillar.

"Are they different prices?" The woman with the child asked, reaching down to take the hand of her offspring. The sight made Yazju miss his family back home. He pushed the thought away and stood up from where he sat. The people retreated in surprise, Yazju's heart stopping for a moment when he thought he had lost them. It also revealed the Dao and Wakizashi he had stashed behind his seat. Just before he knew they would run from him, he reached out and said. "Half price today!"

That had been a lie, but one he now made truth. If Yazju was honest, he simply wanted to sell his blessed talismans, large sums of money optional. The small exchange only garnered him a pitiful tally, but as he saw the little human walk away clutching her new Runiq Omamori, his tail wiggled in joy. Even still, he suddenly had the sense he was forgetting something, or was it someone? Wait, yes! Where was Fujiko? He had not seen her all day. He could not wait to tell her about the sale! He sibilated with excitement.

He felt she would be proud of him.

The Enemy Beyond: Warhammer 40,000 Inquisitor RP

Later I would contemplate whether this was my psychic potentially flexing and growing from contstant use. How else could I have known she would walk in like that? I had to do more study on the subject. In fact it could have been Emmaline's own, more powerful will that had announced her arrival subconsiously. But as it was, my mind was not on the subject of human potential growth in psychic aspects. I found my tongue was heavy and slow to move. I wasn't very aware that the dream and my state of sleep had raised my sword quite enthusoastically. So considerable was my excitement it threatened to spear through my trousers.

Emmaline looked sexy in about anything in my eyes, but the black dress hugged her curves spectacularly, and it brought back memories of our initial kiss. We had kissed since, but something about that night had been special, and it had been unceremoniously cut short by the agents of chaos.

"N-Nothing, I..." I tried to state, but failed considerably in saving myself. I truly had been thrown for a loop by her appearance.

Once I realized the flush of my face and the salute below the belt, I abruptly turned away from her and cleared my throat. By the throne, I was embarrassed to call myself an Inquisitor at that moment. The small matter of my success saving the Segmentum was inconsequential in the light of my current predicament.

"Lieutenant Von Morganstern," I said. Not a technical rank, but any term for subordinate would do, and she had earned the title. "Forgive me for my current state. I suspect you have come for a social visit, judging by your apparel. Grant me a minute or two to dress appropriately and I can join you. Unless I am mistaken for your reason of visit?"

A Song of Ice and Fire - the Blackfyre Rebellion

A Sword Worth Using

[Markus & Celena post]

---

The wine was good. Usually he wanted something a bit stronger, but when it was freely given by people richer than he, the sellsword would gladly partake. He found his taxes were now paying for something worthwhile, at least. Just now the sun had begun to set, Markus watching it idly with his drink as he awaited his paymaster's return. The day had been uneventful for its majority, though he had no doubt all of the fine lords and ladies had gossiped and supped and traded quips like drawn blades. He really didn't care. They could play as they liked as long as he did not need to be subject to it.

Dunc had gone off to fetch more firewood and water, flustered by the errands of the day and finding solace in the simple task of manual labor. Markus had taken the boy around with him, speaking to guards and courtiers, trading stories and asking on the betting pool. A few of them had spoken lewd jokes and offered to take Markus and Dunc to the best brothels in the city. Tempting, but Markus had to decline, much to Dunc's relief judging by the lad's reddened face. At least it made the boy quiet, he had thought sardonically. Still, he liked the boy and felt sorry for him. However, Markus was pretty tame when it came to debauchery. If Dunc couldn't handle things with the sellsword as his guide, he was going to have a rough time.

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he saw a lone figure approaching from the settlement of tents and pavilions. Soft curves and hair bright as a torch in the evening gloom told him it was the Lady Celena. He raised a cup to her and stood out of her way so she may enter her tent. She usually looked like she was focused on some task, as if she saw the future with those enchanting eyes. Rather than walk past him with a smile or a word, however, she stopped and opened the tent flap, inviting him in. Markus didn't even shrug, just followed her orders and walked in with her after the briefest hesitation.

A minute later, Markus had lit a torch and ignited the sconces perched from the tent's raising, illuminating the comfortable living space. Lady Celena was sat at the table when the light burst to life, as if she could see in the dark, or had memorized where to step even after spending only one night in the place. When she beckoned him to sit, he did so. The sellsword moved his weapon out of the way so as not to bump the seat, and he raised an eyebrow at her in a question once he properly sat across from her.

"How good of a swordsman are you, exactly?" The Lady Celena inquired, placing an elbow on the table and resting her heart shaped face on her hand. He noticed her nails were cut short, unlike most of the pretty ladies he had seen gallivanting about over the course of the day's festivities. Cut like a swordman's nails, in fact. Markus had always felt she was more dangerous than she let on, though in what manner he couldn't guess. Not his business.

"Very," he said in his cup, his malefic eyes never leaving hers as he drank the last vestiges of the cup away. She looked at him strangely, her eyes exploring his face and what body she could that wasn't hidden by the table. He could not tell if she thought him fetching or she was measuring him for a future request for a coffin. Somehow he felt it could be both. Placing the cup down, he cleared his throat. "What's this about? Need something done, just say it. You pay me enough."

"I'm thinking of my options," she vocalized ominously. At that, she smoothly stood up and stepped over to a cupboard, grabbing the greater jug of wine and pouring herself and Markus another two cups. "Would you be interested in joining the tournament?"

Markus gave an involuntary laugh, surprised. "If you pay and want me to win, sure. But I do have a catch," He said, taking the cup she offered. "I'll need a reason for asking."

"Would you like the proper one or the rude one." She asked him with the hint of a smirk.

"Rude works," He replied, giving a threat of a smile back. Both held their drinks, not sipping until the climax of their conversation in some unspoken agreement. Outside, a rural-accented voice raised above the chirping insects. Dunc had returned, apparently. He could manage for a minute by himself, and Markus awaited Celena's answer. The Agent of the Iron Bank's hair blazed like fire in the dancing light of the torches flames. All day Markus had avoided the Baratheon and Lannister tents. Baratheon because he was a Storm, and Lannister because he couldn't stand the bastards. His paymaster wasn't as insufferable, however. Lucky him.

"We're both outsiders here, and it would be nice to fuck things up a bit." She said plainly, holding her cup out. Markus regarded her carefully, and decided she wasn't lying. He was starting to like her more and more.

"I'll drink to that," he said, and their cups clapped together in a mutual understanding as they both enjoyed their wine. Dunc called out Markus' name again, stupidly to boot, in the sellsword's estimation. He finished his drink in a herculean three gulps, and then set the cup down on the table. Picking himself up, he gave Lady Celena a small bow of his head before he departed to see to the help with a curt farewell.

"Boss."

Hider

Lady Celena comes back to her tent and she and Markus decide to enter the sellsword into the tourney of pompous bastards

The Enemy Beyond: Warhammer 40,000 Inquisitor RP

Our blades met in a flash of sparks, and a bead of blood trickled down my neck from a move I had not even comprehended. This seemed wholly unreal, but I knew better than that. Perhaps with the right augmentations and two hundred years more experience, I might have been able to defeat this xenos scum, no question. But as it was, he was tens of millions of years more evolved in such things than I. It was a small relief to my pride when I sidestepped and swung at the Dark Eldar in a way it didn't expect, and instead of taking off a finger it was forced to retreat for the length of an eye blink. I knew it would come in again and repay me for the slight a hundred fold, but at that moment, Emmaline Von Morganstern saved my life and the Segmentum Tempestus.

I did not know it was her doing at first, but after the spray of arterial blood and the crowd acting in a way I did not expect even chaos cultists to perform, I knew it was her. I smiled, glad she had made it out ok, and had the moral fiber to come back. If I had any doubts of my judgement regarding her and my romantic feelings earlier, they had been expunged now. As it was, I backstepped, letting the Dark Eldar perform what it needed to in order to survive on the hapless servants of Ignatius. Instead, I ran to the steel bars that held my compatriots. I knew I would ruin the sword, but without the proper tools I couldn't pick the locks, and rent the old iron locks with my sword, breaking the blade in the process.

Men ran to intercept us and get control of the crowd. Ignatius Militia with lasguns jogged in fine order across the stadium's seats, pushing aside fighting aristocrats as six of them ran to what I guessed was the southern edge of the arena, five meters above us but at the lowest section of the seats, and as one they aimed at the three of us. I felt my life leave my body, it seemed, but I imagined it of course. Instead of my own death, I heard the whine of something familiar. I never thought I would be happy to see Lazarus utilizing his favorite armament, but in a brief flash of brilliance, the firing squad was obliterated to a man, and around a dozen frenzied men and women beside them were killed by the Transuranic Arquebus. I looked over to the source of the blast and saw my oldest friend clad rise from the bustle of bodies. Tossing aside his red cloak, he threw two spare autoguns to me. I caught them both, giving Urien one. Bolskar deigned to pick up a fallen lasgun from the dead milita, and together we climbed atop the cages and pulled ourselves up above the lip of the railing.

"Quite the party, Inquisitor." Lazarus said, clasping my hand in greeting.

"Laz, you and Urien need to go down that hall-" I pointed at the corridor we entered the arena from. "And you need to shut down the reactor. Emperor save me, if you argue to retain the tech for any reason I'll-"

"Ok! Yes, we'll destroy it." Lazarus remarked, bewildered. "You might want to thank me, at least..."

"If you cannot shut it down manually, use your rifle. But it cannot be allowed to go off. Kill anyone in your way. Now, both of you! Go!"

The two teams split up, Bolskar and I wading into the chaotic mess of bodies, biting and kicking and punching. Many of them like as not were not under the influence Emmaline had cast, and were now too engorged on their own self preservation to stop. Up the right stairwell I saw a militiaman spot us, and he fired a shot at me that scorched into the back of a woman, dropping her. I returned fire, my second slug punching into his sternum. Bolskar shot another from afar, but was grabbed from behind by a man who had lost his gun in the panic. Young and untested, Bolskar was still a feral-worlder. He shouldered the man back, hitting his jaw with his elbow and began to beat him to death with the lasgun. I was lucky I took the moment to watch him. At the corner of my eye, I saw a familiar figure in garments I couldn't mistake.

"Ignatius!" I roared across the din. The patriarch of the house stopped at the doorway of one of the snake-like corridors and gave me a look of pure contempt, before disappearing into it like the villain he was. I ran after him, calling over my shoulder to Bolskar. "Find Emmaline and protect her!"

After traversing the maelstrom, producing two more dead militiamen and a third with a broken nose from the butt of my gun, and I stumbled into the corridor. Lights flickered with the predictability of the warp, casting shadows and illumination in random tandem. As I ran, my feet hit water. Puddles formed and the ground began to shudder, almost imperceptibly. I could only guess it was from Lazarus's efforts with the xenos tech. I hit the wall and pushed off to rush down the turn of the tunnel, catching a glimpse of Ignatius' cloak. I fired a shot, sparks exploding from the rockcrete. Cursing at the near-miss, I continued at full speed. Julius had long legs and the wild energy of a cultist, but I was honed to the potential of my human form. I gained on him, every corner and tunnel he grew closer and closer.

It must have been over a kilometer, and as I leaped down a stone stairway in a short passage, I entered the neck of another tunnel and my vision was filled by the swinging fist of Julius Mercutio Ignatius. My gun clattered to the ground as I staggered, the dim lighting giving my attacker a ghastly appearance. His next swing struck me in the stomach, my inability to block him due to the billowing cloak covering the small vestige of light we had. But as I stepped back, cold fury took hold of me. He grabbed my shirt and launched another blow. I redirected it with a raised fist and kicked his shin with considerable force. He cried out, taking a knee involuntarily. My fist swung up from below to meet his chin. Blood splattered from his lips, and I imagined he bit his tongue. His grip slackening, I grabbed a head-full of his salt and pepper hair and slammed it against the wall with all of my appreciable strength.

That was that. He fell like a corpse, but his mumbling showed me he was still very much alive. Calmly, I walked over to pick up my gun before firing into both of his knees to ensure he would not slip out of my fingers again.

---

Act 3

989M41
Planet Moldar
To Inquistor Lord Moredecai

Over the course of the next few days, there was a blur of activity I can only scant recall in great detail. The planet's vox channels were filled with news from the capital, papers scattered in the streets with Lord Ignatius' pulped face and the disgrace of the Ignatius family in bold letters. Lazarus and Urien had been successful in their endeavor to destroy the reactor, detonating it by redirecting the power flows to overflow with energy. Bolskar and Emmaline had met me and the ravaged Julius at the arena, and by the time I had made it, PDF forces had arrived at the manor. What militia left were either busy fighting for their lives or had given up this farce. The pomp had brought in two Inquisitors that had been in the regional systems, coming to collect information on who I was and what exactly I had stumbled upon. I spoke with them briefly, but invited them to the council session the end of the week.

Needless to say I was met with cries of both joy and outrage as I strode in with all my livery and my entire team with me. They quietened down when I revealed the decapitated head of a dark eldar for them to gaze upon, as well as the eldritch key Bahometus had yet to retrieve. A few of the regional lords had asked to be granted full reports and to halt my investigations to pay damages.

"My patience has limits, my lords. Unlike my authority." I told them in no uncertain terms. They were smart to answer with silence. I was pleased to see more than a few had taken to my cause once I explained the situation, mostly those who did not have direct business ties to the Ignatius family nor had to pay for any of the city's damages. To my delight, Lord Haldemir seemed my most avid supporter in the hearings, and was the first to offer his household troops in my plot to capture Bahometus.

The cur had escaped via eldritch means through a corrupted xenos gateway. Through my research and Lazarus' decryptions, we found the destination... Danubis.

Less than a week after I had taken in Julius Ignatius, the Caledonian, two corvettes, and a frigate had been requisitioned and dispatched to arrive at Danubis in three days time. At the head of the fleet, I finally felt I was coming to the conclusion of the cabal that had taken my master's life...

---

First day of the trip.

I closed my dossier, dropping the pen and exhaling broadly. My mind had been thrown into disarray now that I could do naught but wait on the ship as it traversed the warp. It had all gone according to plan, but I still felt like there was a loose end, and it had nothing to do with Bahometus. Rubbing the bridge of my nose, I closed my folder and took a quick drink of amasec. I did not often drink when working, but today was an exception. As I took my time sipping, there was a knock on the door.

"Come," I said, placing the glass down.

Emmaline walked in, and I froze when I saw she wore the black dress that first night on Moldar. I blinked, wondering what she was planning. Opening my mouth, I tried to speak, but she placed a finger to her full lips and strode over. She walked tantalizingly, and while I was vaguely aware of the purpose in her eyes, to my surprise she didn't walk around my desk, but climbed over it. I grew hot, seeing just how enticing she was on all fours, and without self preservation she fell atop me, grabbing and pinching and kissing. We fell over, the chair hitting the floor as we entangled on the grou-

There was a knock at the door, and I blinked. What? My senses returned to me, slowly.

"A dream?" I asked aloud, and groaned in annoyance. Just what I needed. I didn't answer immediately, trying to throw the images out of my head. There was another small knock.

"Come...in." I finished, clearing my throat.