As they were about to step into the gallery together, it was as if a sickening wind met them as the doors flung open before them. Or at least it felt like it to Adrianne, which was weird considering the fact that she was wearing an air-tight suit under her armor. She looked to her companions, but none seemed to have noticed the breeze either.
"The powers of this place is old. Very old."
Adrianne choose to not say anything, instead choosing to focus on the interior of the gallery as they entered it. Relics, records, banners, crests and portraits all decorated the venerable halls of the gallery. But what surprised the girl was that there were no custodians or receptionists awaiting their arrival, no tour guide to show them about. Either they were past closing hours, or this was a private gallery of some.
A private gallery, now that was an ideal place for the enemies of the empire, as they were so often left alone by imperial authorities out of respect for their role as custodians of imperial lore and history.
"Record those banners. Or remember them. Perhaps both."
"Already done, Inquisitor." Adrianne would quickly respond to Zhevon's request, by motioning towards M4R1-A, her servo-skull currently floating around at the periphery of the group. M41A-A would be constantly shifting around in the air, scanning the surrounding interior of the gallery with its red, mechanical eyes.
"I've put M4R1-A on maximum video resolution, so she should have 24 hours of video and image memory storage. Just make sure she doesn't get shot!"
Adrianne commented as she threw a quick glance to her servo-skull as it continued to record their surroundings. It was an extremely helpful device with a lot of utility, but unfortunately it was anything but a combat model. It was unarmored beyond the bits of bone and metal it was made of, so a stray shot could easily fry its circuits or render it nonfunctional. Fortunately, most people preferred to shoot at her and her allies instead of at the seemingly harmless servo-skull floating around the periphery of the battlefield. And she had found that demons largely ignored machines, almost not even considering them worthy of their attention unless they blocked their way! Or at least that's what she had learned from past experiences, where she had seen a band of lesser daemons of Khorne ignore a set of heavy bolter turrets to charge at its human crew instead, only to get blown to bits.
But as they stood in the main reception area of the gallery, Adrianne could feel a nagging feeling in the back of her head. Almost as if someone was trying to make their way through her skull with a miniature needle. A faint, almost inaudible whisper filled the otherwise quiet halls of the gallery, which she was barely able to hear. She moved a hand up to her audio-receptors at the side of her helmet to increase the sound sensitivity, but even if she increased the volume, the whispers did not increase in volume.
They were not of the physical world, that was for sure.
Even through her air tight mask, she could smell a poignant, aromatic scent that leeched through the hallways. It was not repulsive, but actually quite delicate, like a hundred different perfumes mixed together with great skill. As she gazed at the different portraits, she could see slight flares of colors in the portrait that shift. It was almost as if the portraits themselves changed the longer she looked at them.
"Psyker Valenthin, what can you see?"
"Corruption." She would answer bluntly, before breaking out of her focus to look at Inquisitor Zhevon.
"It is heavy in this building. The barrier between the physical realm and the warp is very weak here. I believe this is the source of daemonic presence that I sensed the moment we touched down on the planet at the spaceport. We should be on guard. The chance that there might be daemonic entities lurking in this building is high. Possibly some cultists as well, as there has to be someone who owns this place, lest the imperial authority would have moved in long ago."
Adrianne would pause, taking a moment to concentrate as she held a finger up to the side of her skeletal mask.
"But... there is something else here, an object of power. It is an anomaly, unlike the corruptive influence of the warp that haunts the rest of this building, perhaps a powerful relic of some kind."
"The powers of this place is old. Very old."
Adrianne choose to not say anything, instead choosing to focus on the interior of the gallery as they entered it. Relics, records, banners, crests and portraits all decorated the venerable halls of the gallery. But what surprised the girl was that there were no custodians or receptionists awaiting their arrival, no tour guide to show them about. Either they were past closing hours, or this was a private gallery of some.
A private gallery, now that was an ideal place for the enemies of the empire, as they were so often left alone by imperial authorities out of respect for their role as custodians of imperial lore and history.
"Record those banners. Or remember them. Perhaps both."
"Already done, Inquisitor." Adrianne would quickly respond to Zhevon's request, by motioning towards M4R1-A, her servo-skull currently floating around at the periphery of the group. M41A-A would be constantly shifting around in the air, scanning the surrounding interior of the gallery with its red, mechanical eyes.
"I've put M4R1-A on maximum video resolution, so she should have 24 hours of video and image memory storage. Just make sure she doesn't get shot!"
Adrianne commented as she threw a quick glance to her servo-skull as it continued to record their surroundings. It was an extremely helpful device with a lot of utility, but unfortunately it was anything but a combat model. It was unarmored beyond the bits of bone and metal it was made of, so a stray shot could easily fry its circuits or render it nonfunctional. Fortunately, most people preferred to shoot at her and her allies instead of at the seemingly harmless servo-skull floating around the periphery of the battlefield. And she had found that demons largely ignored machines, almost not even considering them worthy of their attention unless they blocked their way! Or at least that's what she had learned from past experiences, where she had seen a band of lesser daemons of Khorne ignore a set of heavy bolter turrets to charge at its human crew instead, only to get blown to bits.
But as they stood in the main reception area of the gallery, Adrianne could feel a nagging feeling in the back of her head. Almost as if someone was trying to make their way through her skull with a miniature needle. A faint, almost inaudible whisper filled the otherwise quiet halls of the gallery, which she was barely able to hear. She moved a hand up to her audio-receptors at the side of her helmet to increase the sound sensitivity, but even if she increased the volume, the whispers did not increase in volume.
They were not of the physical world, that was for sure.
Even through her air tight mask, she could smell a poignant, aromatic scent that leeched through the hallways. It was not repulsive, but actually quite delicate, like a hundred different perfumes mixed together with great skill. As she gazed at the different portraits, she could see slight flares of colors in the portrait that shift. It was almost as if the portraits themselves changed the longer she looked at them.
"Psyker Valenthin, what can you see?"
"Corruption." She would answer bluntly, before breaking out of her focus to look at Inquisitor Zhevon.
"It is heavy in this building. The barrier between the physical realm and the warp is very weak here. I believe this is the source of daemonic presence that I sensed the moment we touched down on the planet at the spaceport. We should be on guard. The chance that there might be daemonic entities lurking in this building is high. Possibly some cultists as well, as there has to be someone who owns this place, lest the imperial authority would have moved in long ago."
Adrianne would pause, taking a moment to concentrate as she held a finger up to the side of her skeletal mask.
"But... there is something else here, an object of power. It is an anomaly, unlike the corruptive influence of the warp that haunts the rest of this building, perhaps a powerful relic of some kind."