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Author Topic: The Scales of Power: Chapter 0 - Prelude  (Read 3468 times)

Offline Zen

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The Scales of Power: Chapter 0 - Prelude
« on: April 04, 2013, 06:55:18 am »
OOC: While we wait for some people, let's go around the table and introduce ourselves :P

It is the 41st Millennium. For more than a hundred centuries the Emperor has sat immobile on the Golden Throne of Earth. He is the Master of mankind by the will of the gods, and master of a million worlds by the might of his inexhaustible armies. He is a rotting carcass writhing invisibly with power from the Dark Age of Technology. He is the Carrion Lord of the Imperium for whom a thousand souls are sacrificed every day, so that he may never truly die.

Yet even in his deathless state, the Emperor continues his eternal vigilance. Mighty battlefleets cross the daemon-infested miasma of the warp, the only route between distant stars, their way lit by the Astronomican, the psychic manifestation of the Emperor's will. Vast armies give battle in his name on uncounted worlds. Greatest amongst his soldiers are the Adeptus Astartes, the Space Marines, bio-engineered super-warriors. Their comrades in arms are legion: the Imperial Guard and countless planetary defence forces, the ever vigilant Inquisition and the tech-priests of the Adeptus Mechanicus to name only a few. But for all their multitudes, they are barely enough to hold off the ever-present threat from aliens, heretics, mutants - and worse.

To be a man in such times is to be one amongst untold billions. It is to live in the cruelest and most bloody regime imaginable. These are the tales of those times. Forget the power of technology and science, for so much has been forgotten, never to be re-learned. Forget the promise of progress and understanding, for in the grim dark future there is only war. There is no peace amongst the stars, only an eternity of carnage and slaughter, and the laughter of thirsting gods.



Imperials

In a seemingly empty space within a planetary system, the laws of physics twist and bend itself as a tear of the very fabric of the universe opens up. Real Space struggles and screams as the tear begins to open wider and wider until it gave birth to a black-cloaked angel and it lead the massive and powerful Emperor-Class Battleship, The Invincible Reason. Though unlike most ships of the Imperial Navy, its appearance is almost akin to the dreaded Black Ships so very associated with the Inquisition especially with its blackened hull and the lack of external lightings. If one closely examines the ship, it does sport the symbol of the Inquisition. Following in its wake comes a flotilla of dozens other ships including the more recognisable starships of the Imperial Navy, bringing the might of the Emperor's Starships to those who are unfortunate to be in its wake. More dreaded are the ships of the Adeptus Astartes, surely crewed by the most elite of the Imperium's warriors. Finally, when the entire fleet is present and accounted for, they begin their advance towards the Tau Sept World of Sho'Ran, a world very near the Imperium-Tau Borders and one that has turned its back on the Emperor for more than three generations. Under the directive of Inquisitor Lord Alexander, an Imperial taskforce of consisting of both the Imperial Navy and Imperial Guard as well as specialists and auxiliaries such as the Adeptus Astartes, Adeptus Mechanicus and the Adeptus Sororitas have been sanctioned to capture and subjugate the former Imperial World known to the Imperials as Ganrik III.

While overall command of the Imperial Taskforce is led by Lord General Militant Gardemeister, the Inquisitor Lord has asked that a special few be requisitioned for his own needs during the campaign. For those involved, they are "invited" (An invitation you better accept) onto his ship, The Invincincible Reason. If you "accept", you will be greeted by a platoon of the Inquisitor Lord's own personal guard (But rumors say it is more like a personal army), the Jenovian Black Guards. They are clad in long coats and underneath it is Carapace Armor, and their face is hidden behind the red lens and visors of their helmets. They're also armed with Hellguns unlike regular guardsmen. One, who is seemingly the one in charge, approached and saluted you, "Welcome aboard. I am Lieutenant Haze and I will be escorting you to meet the Inquisitor Lord. If you be so kind as to follow me." He says this monotonously and further through his helmet's vox-speaker. He spun on his heel and marched towards wherever the Inquisitor Lord is on his dreaded ship. Through your little journey, you would be escorted by a squad of the Jenovian Black Guards. All eerily silent. However, the ship itself and its occupants are not so silent. You can hear the ship itself wailing and moaning as if the ship dreads it own very existence. You would have a sense of uneasiness as if your very soul shivers just for being on the ship. On occasion, you can hear the screams of actual human beings. Some of them include "DEAR SWEET EMPEROR! HAVE MERCY! HAVE MERCY ON MY SOUL!", "THE EYES SEE ALL! THE EYES SEE ALL!" (Or does he mean "I") and "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Finally, you've come to a set of ornate wooden doors and Lieutenant Haze pushed them both open to reveal a lavishly and decorated dining hall with a long and massive table in the middle set up just in time for dinner. The table and chairs seem to be big enough to accommodate the size and weight of a Space Marine. Again, through his vox-speaker, "Take a sit. The Inquisitor Lord will be with you shortly." Lieutenant Haze takes his position at the door on the other side of the dining hall while the other Black Guards took their place around the other entrance. If you took your seat, a servitor would approached you, "What would you like to drink?" The Inquisitor Lord seem to have a wide range of beverages including alcohols. Once that is done, you look to each other and the question begs: What does the Inquisitor Lord want with you specifically?

OOC: So introduce your character and you are allowed to bring your command retinue if you want.



Tau

Just outside the planetary capital of Sho'Ran, Medisa, the resident Ethereal had taken up residence on a hill overlooking the capital as well as the two lakes that the capital lies in between. Even though the capital is located on the equator, the climate is quite cool and temperate. Ethereal Or'da has summoned a few of the Shas'Os to be taken under his direct wing during the coming invasion. If you approached the forested hill, you will be stopped by a Honor Guard who asked you to leave whatever weapons you have on your persons behind before you can descent up the 200-step stairs to the Ethereal's residence. If you've done so, you may climbed up the stairs and the Honor Guard's Shas'El will say, "Watch your step." As you climbed up, you will see drones patrolling the hill as well as Honor Guards standing guard on every so-many steps. If you look and listen more closely, you will also notice Battlesuits hidden behind the denser trees and foliage scanning for any sign of trouble or react to any threat that comes within range.

Once you reached the top, a drone would have approached you and scanned you. It beeped positively before backing off to its original position. You will see two more Honor Guards at the entrance of the residence, they open the sliding door for you. "The Ethereal will be with you shortly. Take a sit at the table." You entered through a door and it is a simple room with simple round table in the middle. With the door and windows open, it is quite chilly. You sat at the table and wondered what does the Ethereal want with you.

OOC: Same deal for the Tau. Intro!

Offline Mabbz

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Re: The Scales of Power: Chapter 0 - Prelude
« Reply #1 on: April 04, 2013, 10:52:32 am »
Commander Dronestorm stopped briefly at the top of the stairs to catch his breath. Would it have killed them to install an escalator? He had been tempted to sit on top of one of his drones and fly up, but he figured that would not be respectful. He didn't want to annoy the high command so soon after his promotion to Shas'O.

Once he had composed himself he entered the room, followed by two drones. One was a simple servant drone he kept close at all times that took notes of all conversations and provided refreshments, while the other was one of his command relay drones; an experimental platform he had helped design while he was a Shas'Vre and had field tested as a Shas'El. It was effectively a mobile battle computer that could relay his orders, provide him with important information from the field and even had a sophisticated AI capable of taking command of a small cadre if necessary, although it was still configured to control the all drone forces he had been field testing.

The room was empty, so he sat at the table, accepted a drink from his drone and calmly waited for everyone else to arrive.

Offline The Allfather

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Re: The Scales of Power: Chapter 0 - Prelude
« Reply #2 on: April 04, 2013, 01:50:27 pm »
The Lady's Radiance and her small fleet tore its way into real space on the edge of the system, leaving the twisting insanity of the Warp behind. They had traveled here without their usual entourage of civilian vessels, leaving only a scattering of frigates in support. The ship's captain flicked on the general address vox unit.
"Two hours to rendezvous point."

Palatine Aouregan calmly opened here eyes and stood up from where she had been kneeling in prayer within the ship's shrine. It was time, then. She made her way back to her personal quarters to prepare. One of her Aspirants, a tall blonde girl whose name escaped her at the moment, was waiting with her armour. The shining suit of holy power armour was polished to perfection. A fitting tribute to her former Cannoness, whose memory was kept alive by the elegant gilded suit. The Aspirant was just fitting the second pauldron when the door chimed.
"Enter."
The door opened with a groan of cogs and a woman dressed in a similarly gilded, but far less ornate, suit of power armour entered the Palatine's quarters and bowed her head. Her face, framed by raven black hair seemed to be set in a permanent frown.
"Sister Siobhan, is everything ready?"
"Yes milady, the transport is waiting." Aouregan nodded, and fastened the clips that held her pale ermine fur cloak in place.
"Then let us proceed."


The Lady's Radiance drew up into position, her shining hull a stark contrast to the dull blackened skin of The Invincible Reason. A short flare of jets in the blackness was all that marked the passage of the transport ship. Aouregan and Siobhan, her glowering face now hidden behind a white and gold helm, stepped off the transport to be greeted by one Lieutenant Haze. The man saluted smartly and led the way down the dim passages of the ship. Aouregan ran her eyes along their escort. They were soldiers, all men, but something seemed off about them. Her lip curled into a sneer of disgust as they passed by the rooms with their screaming occupants.

Then they had arrived. Haze opened the doors, and Aouregan took a seat at the massive table, while Siobhan stood behind her in an at-ease position. A servitor materialized and showed her the drinks menu.
"Tea, hot." It had been a while since Aouregan had had a good cup of tea. Siobhan shook her head curtly when the servitor turned to take her order, and it trundled off to fulfill the Palatine's request. Aouregan scanned the length of the table, they were the first to arrive it seemed...

Offline Railgun Convention

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Re: The Scales of Power: Chapter 0 - Prelude
« Reply #3 on: April 04, 2013, 02:05:46 pm »
Commander Flamefist paused before the door, and leant on the wall to catch his breath a little. He would normally have dropped straight in, but Or'Da's guard had insisted he leave his Hazard suit at the base of the hill. He felt exposed without it, and the comms relay that synced with it was running a little slower than normal due to the distance.

Having had a moment to recover, he pushed off the wall and headed through the door. He greeted Dronestorm, noting how well the new commander was doing to be here so quickly, and took a seat at the table. Talk turned to who the third commander was likely to be.
So how many crashes have I survived now?

Offline Aun

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Re: The Scales of Power: Chapter 0 - Prelude
« Reply #4 on: April 05, 2013, 06:09:12 am »
A sound penetrated the massive doors of the Inquisitors dinning room where the two Adeptus Sororitas waited. It was distant, and at first unidentifiable. Then they heard it again and recognized it as the sound of a far off horn. Then the doors to the chamber where violently opened; and a cataclysm seemed to cascade inside.
It began with two cyber-cherubs flitting through the air; gilded horns in their tiny hands which they blew for all their worth while streaming banners trailed from stapled skin. As the pair flew high towards the ceiling, they where quickly followed by a host of black robed acolytes or servitors; too heavily augmented to tell. Some clutched parchment printing from internal augmetics while still others shouted doom and damnation from grill-mouths; waving skulls and relics before them. As the dozen or so creatures swept into the room, the passageway beyond was revealed; covered in a strange smoke. Tall, hooded and cloaked figures could barely be made out standing on the edges of the hallway, thuribles gently swinging from their hands. The figures moved forward in slow lockstep, a dull, chanted murmur emanating from them along with the intense incense smoke that began to coil outwards.
A boot of black powered armour stepped forward from the smoke just as the shadow of its owner became perceptible through the smoke. The figure swept forward, the grey mist coiling around him as if it where the hands of an intimate lover, or chains pulled tight against the great weight he pulled. He was an Astartes; that much was obvious. What power armour that could be seen from under the grey shroud he wore was a featureless black. His head was concealed by the large hood of the grey vestments, but the severed and preserved heads of three Tyranid Hive Tyrants hung from a chain at his side, their multi-hued chitin standing out against the Space Marine’s dreary attire. In his right hand was a power scythe of ancient providence, the smoke still clinging to its blade as if afraid to reveal the brilliant shine of its blade.
As the figure walked into the room, a second, equally large figure followed him. As he emerged from the cloying incense, it could be seen that he was another Astartes in power armour, though lacking the attire of his Chapter Master. His arms, legs and helmet where black as well, but his body and backpack where a mustard yellow as well as the crossed-scythe symbol emblazoned on his left shoulder.
The presence of the two marines dominated the enclosed room as their train pulled in tight around them, preventing the Astartes from nearing the table. The same servitor that had served the Sisters approached the group and endured the skull-shoving and doom-saying of the human entourage with a grace born of lobotomy and stubbornly ploughed between them to stand before the two and ask for their drink of choice. The Astartes both held out an open palm; abstaining for the moment.
As the Servitor shuffled away, the two Sisters of Battle could feel the gaze of the partially obscured space marines upon them. A deep rumble passed through the air, the smoke seeming to coil in on itself as it passed towards them. It took them both a moment to realize it was one of the two speaking.
“Sister Aouregan…” it said in a tone of some difference. Whether it was a greeting, or simply a statement could not be determined.

Offline LinnScarlett

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Re: The Scales of Power: Chapter 0 - Prelude
« Reply #5 on: April 05, 2013, 03:42:55 pm »
True to the curse of being unable to write ANYTHING short, ever. Here's my wall-of-text-y command group introduction.   :facepalm001:



Thud... Thud... Thud... The steel-shod boots rung dully against the plasteel of the quarter deck. Commissar Alicia Hark tried to focus despite the distracting noise. She sat at her make-shift desk, attempting to read a report. Bull had mauled Jinx in a duel. Bruised ribs. Collapsed lung. Broken leg. At least he wasn't dead. They could ill afford losing men to pride. She would have to remind them – again - that she only condoned these duels so long their outcome did not disable men from service for longer than a week. She sighed and pulled a hand through her long, brown hair. Some things never changed.

Thud... Thud... Thud... Hark put the dataslate down with an irritated snap. It was no use; she was too strung up to get anything done. Rendezvous with the Inquisition tended to do that to her: the prospect messed with her otherwise impeccably even state of mind. Inquisitors put the wary in her like little else did. She glanced at the chronotrap strapped to the inside of her left wrist. They should leave soon. What was keeping Sly? They had not been able to reach him. She glanced up, her gaze moving beyond the command platform overlooking the main barracks deck and scanning the organised chaos of the hall below them for the God-Emperor-knows-how-manyeth time. The barracks deck was a vast, steel plain with endless rows of bunks and gear lockers receding easily a kilometre into the distance. At the far end she could see the bulky shapes of their larger equipment, including the neatly strapped down rows of their sentinels, small as toys from her vantage point. Nigh on a thousand jungle fighters bustled around the bunks and lockers retrieving their gear, moving it, losing it, somehow finding it again, and generally managing to get in one another's way while still getting things done with almost impossible efficiency. However, there was no sign of Sly.

Thud... Thud... Thud... Hark glanced away from the barracks deck to look at Colonel Straken. The jungle fighter paced up and down the quarter deck with the long, fluid strides of a caged predator. He was tall and solidly built, even for a Catachan – a breed of men and women disparagingly known as ‘baby Ogryns’ for their natural height and built. Being on the short end of average herself, Hark barely reached up to her opposite number’s broad chest. He’d been pacing ever since the Inquisitorial summons had arrived, his brooding mood all but tangible. His hands were clasped behind his back as he walked and he scowled at the floor as if it had somehow offended him.

Straken wore only the bare minimum of what might, with a great deal of imagination and good will, be called a 'uniform'; wearing only a sweat-stained, grey-green tank top and jungle-stripe camouflaged fatigue pants. And between his steel-shod combat boots, Aquila-tags, red bandana and the worn out long coat carelessly thrown over a nearby chair, that was it. The harsh electro-light glinted dully off the abraded gunmetal of the augmetic replacing his right arm and side as his boots rung endlessly on the plasteel deck. Hark glanced at her chronotrap once more. “It shouldn't be long now,” she remarked, not for the first time. The grunt Straken voiced in reply could have meant anything.



“Colonel, Commissar.”

At the formal hail both officers snapped their gazes up and the former stopped pacing abruptly. However, when Straken saw who had spoken he scowled and resumed his endless circles. With a bemused smile around her lips Hark wondered how much longer it would take before his singular path would be visibly worn into the plasteel. She shifted and winced, putting a hand just above her left hip and across the bandages of the unhealed wound there. A shot had bit through what little meat she had and torn a muscle. She gritted her teeth. It could have easily been far, far worse.

“Danny,” she acknowledged with a curt nod in the direction of the approaching jungle fighter. Sergeant Daniel Rock had served her as aide for nearly a decade now. The others had always called him 'Danny-boy' for being blond and 'pretty', something not at all the norm among the rugged death worlders. An accident that had left Danny with second degree promethium burns across more than half his body had seen an end to it.

“Commissar,” he repeated, then added: “Are you well?” His scarred features failed to convey his concerned frown. He held a slender, silvered chestplate in his large hands that was clearly not meant for a Catachan’s broad chest. Like Straken, he wore little in the way of a conventional uniform. Although he wore a short-sleeve instead of a tank top with his fatigue pants, concealing most of his extensive burns from view. He, too, wore a red bandana; the short, blond hair peaking from under it and his blue eyes the only reminders of his once handsome countenance.

“Better than yesterday,” Hark replied as she forced the dully throbbing pain to the back of her mind.

“Good,” Danny said, though his keen eyes regarded her for a second longer as if he thought she might come apart any moment now. A bolt shell was hardly something you walked off. When a scowl began to form across her heart-shaped face he quickly pulled himself together and held up the chestplate to her. “Fix managed to restore it in time after all.”

“Lovely,” Hark replied, genuinely pleased. She rose, plucked her jacket and the red sash that marked her as a senior Commissar from the back of her chair and dressed as she walked around her make-shift desk towards her aide. She waited patiently as he fitted the gorget and then chestplate around her. Fix had outdone himself. The shattered ceramite plate at the waist had been replaced and silvered. Only when she looked closely could she still faintly see the edge of the original silver. Even the regimental crest had been artistically restored, although she suspected that had been Tex’ handiwork. Once again the blunt-snouted dinosaurian and palatine Aquila proudly reared beside the crossed fangs and imperial numerals of the 222nd Catachan Carnotaurs.

“Not in dress uniform then, ma’am?” Danny inquired as he fitted the armour with the deftness of practise. Indeed, the lightly decorated black pantsuit and functional chestplate was what she normally wore on the battlefield.

Hark crossed her arms in front of her chest and glanced up at her aide. “You remember what happened last time I showed up in front of the Inquisition wearing heels and a pencil skirt,” she remarked surly. Danny nodded, of course he remembered. She’d not been taken serious at all. Despite the unmistakable Commissarial overtones of the dress uniform, it had made her look distinctly harmless and desk-bound. Her petite stature had not helped the matter.

Hark uncrossed her arms to look at her chronotrap once again. What in the God-Emperor’s divine name was keeping Sly? They were going to be late. Her gaze wandered to her hands, absently taking in their once smooth skin now marred beyond recognition. It had been a result of the same accident that had very nearly cost Danny his life. It had been a miracle the deep, second degree burns had not left her crippled. Only three fingers had to be replaced: her ring finger and pinkie on her right hand and her thumb on her left hand. A few fingers for a life; not a terribly steep price to pay.

“Ma’am,” Danny said, and it pulled her from her thoughts. He was holding out her gloves.

“Thank you,” she returned and put them on.

“Colonel,” Danny continued. When Straken glanced up, Danny unhooked a worn canteen from his belt and tossed it towards him. Straken snatched it out of the air with a dexterity that belied his broad figure and clicked it to his own belt as he nodded curtly at the other jungle fighter, before resuming his eternal pacing.

“Colonel, Commissar,” it suddenly crackled over their regimental vox command-channel.

“Sly, you miserable bastard,” Straken snorted angrily as he clicked on the vox-bead in his ear. “Where the frak are you?”

“Handling a bazillion minor crisis while you two are fretting like a married couple,” his second bit back, his voice riddled with static. The sound of what could have been an explosion momentarily washed the vox out.

Hark could see Straken’s nostrils flare and his gaze fix at the insult. “You have all of five fraking seconds to get your sorry arse here, Sly,” he growled back. “Before I built you a new face.”

“Major,” Hark interjected before Sly could reply. Now was hardly the time to dogfight. Sly’s actual name was John Rock and he was indeed her aide’s older sibling. Straken had ordained their Major the moniker due to ever leading their forces from the rear. That he was forced to do this because Straken himself insisted on always being on the frontline, and someone had to oversee the battle and deal with collapsing battle plans, was hardly the point. “Will you be coming or not?”

“At the launch bays in five, ma’am,” Sly replied. There was a crash and then creative cussing from across the vox before it was abruptly cut.

“We better go, Colonel,” she remarked as she reached up and bound her hair before pulling a red bandana from her pants pocket and tying it around her head. Straken grunted in agreement and snatched up her great coat from the railing it hung over and tossed it towards her before picking up his own. She shrugged it on and glanced around, searching.

“Ma’am.” It was Danny, holding out the peaked cap infamously associated with her station to her.



They formed a dour company as they marched after the Jenovian Black Guards that had greeted them upon arrival on ‘The Invincible Reason’, stoically ignoring the unnerving atmosphere of the Inquisitorial warship. The Catachan towered over the Honour Guards despite the latter's bulky ceremonial armour and Hark was all but lost between their large frames.

Sly had finally joined them, and so had Sue. While both men were dressed much like Straken and Danny, Sly had donned his fatigue jacket, the strands of his red headband trailing after him as they walked. There was a cast to Sly’s rough, worn features that faintly hinted at the handsomeness his little brother had once possessed. Sue, on the other hand, wore an open, sleeveless, worn and faded robe over his fatigue pants and tank top, the characteristic red bandana tied across his eyes rather than around his head. It did not appear to impede him. He carried a simple staff; a palatine Aquila worked in conductor metal grafted into the tip while intricate traceries vanned out from it, down the wood to the quarter staff’s metal grips. They called him ‘Sue’ because his name was Jean. Jean Silver. And it was not martial combat that he excelled at.

It was not long before they reached the Inquisitor’s council chambers. Straken briefly patted Hark’s slim shoulder as they waited for the honour guard to open the doors and she nodded curtly in unspoken agreement as she squared herself for the undoubtedly unpleasant confrontation to come. Their past experiences with Inquisitors had been less than… flawless.

When they entered, Hark was mildly relieved to see that only the Holy Sisters had sat down, the Astartes seemingly having arrived only moments before they did. They might have been late but, at least, they were not too late.

“Lords, ladies,” she greeted them, her tone measured as she inclined her head briefly.
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Offline Zen

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Re: The Scales of Power: Chapter 0 - Prelude
« Reply #6 on: April 05, 2013, 08:15:31 pm »
Imperials

It wasn't long before the Inquisitor Lord made his presence known. Behind the door (Not the one you guys came from) flanked by two Black Guards, two shots rang. For those whose ears are open, a rather heated discussion can be heard behind those same doors. It lasted two minutes before the shots came. After a while, the doors opened wide to give way to another giant clad in blackened (but recently bloodied) power armor but this giant is more human than the Adeptus Astartes present in the room (i.e. while not augmented with everything a Space Marine has, it is obvious the Inquisitor Lord had some enhancements of his own). The more obvious features are his two glowing eyes not from him being Emperor's Judgment made incarnated but the augmentic eyes that he received from a terrible wound evident from a massive scar across his face, which would his second most obvious feature. Otherwise, he is a strongly-built man with an square jaw and black hair. His power armor, having been splattered with the blood of whomever he had shot just now, is blackened and the Inquisitions symbol engraved upon it in addition to other devotional trinkets and scriptures. Of course, he wears an Inquisitional Rosarius around his neck. He held a bolt pistol still smoking, most probably, from those two shots you've heard just now.

"Haze, get the cleaning servitors. Made a pretty mess of that." The Inquisitor Lord ordered in a heavy voice. Lieutenant Haze snapped a salute before going about his orders. The Inquisitor Lord pulled his chair at the head of table before setting his bulk upon the furniture which was made to handle the weight of power armor and its occupant. He set his bolt pistol on the table before looking around at the guests that he invited for dinner. He took a few seconds to examine them all before calling the servitor to serve the first course which was antipasta consisting of cured meat, mushrooms, cheese and some vegetable. He also ordered for himself a glass of white wine and as soon as the servitor came with it, the Inquisitor Lord took it and gulp it down immediately. "Inquisiting is thirsty work." He remarked just as the servitors removed a body-bag. "If you are curious to know, that was a traitor who gave our plans away to the Tau Empire which will make our work more difficult." He explained before digging into the second course, grilled fish with salted vegetable. Through his third bite, the Inquisitor Lord just realized something. "Oh, where my manners? For those who aren't familiar, I am Inquisitor Lord Alexander, Inquisitional Liaison for this Imperial Battlegroup." (Note: "Liaison")

Lord Alexander first regards Space Marine with a raise glass of white wine just refilled by the serving servitors. "Chapter Master Thrasius, I am glad that the Scythes are able to add their strength to the coming campaign despite your lack of manpower. Rest assure that your Space Marines will go on missions which maximizes results and minimizes casualties." The Inquisitor Lord seemed to have said that with an underlying mix of optimism and sarcasm. He then regards the Adeptus Sororitas. "Palatine Aouregan, it is an honor to have the Sisters accompanying the campaign. Surely your Sisterhood would bring the Fires of the Emperor back to Ganrik III, burning traitors and bringing light to those whose faith are under siege from alien propaganda." Now, this is a bit more sincere than his toast to the Adeptus Astartes. "Colonel Straken. Commissar Hark. Glad to have the Catachan Carnotaurs onboard. Your regiment's skills and expertise will be vital during the campaign." He said with a more serious tone with a hint of contempt. He continued on, "Before we get into the meat (By this time, they're serving the main course, roasted avian the size of a horse with a side of mashed potatoes) of our discussion, know that I have requested (i.e. demanded) that your skills will be put under my guidance and that the upcoming battle with spell out the war between the Imperium of Mankind and the Tau Empire for decades to come. Now... any questions?"

Offline Aun

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Re: The Scales of Power: Chapter 0 - Prelude
« Reply #7 on: April 05, 2013, 09:00:01 pm »
Once again the air shook with a deep rumbling that could almost be physically seen from the smoke around the Astartes and only seemed to form words and travel across the room reluctantly.
"That is well Inquisitor; for if I find you have wasted the lives of my men, I will kill you." Thrasius rumbled, in a tone lacking emotion, a fact simply stated. The Astartes standing near him, his chief aid named Hadrios spoke up then, his voice contrasting with his masters entirely; being energetic and full of emotion. It almost sounded human.
"Why have you ask us to come here? What is it you are intending?"

Offline The Allfather

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Re: The Scales of Power: Chapter 0 - Prelude
« Reply #8 on: April 05, 2013, 09:47:43 pm »
The Palatine picked idly at some of the cheese and meat while she sipped her tea. "We are happy to assist the Inquisition, as the Inquisition assisted us in the past and continues to do so. I must admit though, I am still hazy on the details of this campaign. I second the Chapter Master's query, what are your intentions?" Aouregan's hatred for the Tau was strong. It was they, though never directly, who had been behind the destruction of the Order's convent on Alesia. She unclenched the fist that she had unconsciously formed, and took another sip of tea.

Offline LinnScarlett

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Re: The Scales of Power: Chapter 0 - Prelude
« Reply #9 on: April 06, 2013, 12:40:25 pm »
As they entered, Straken flashed a brief grin of recognition and exchanged a curt nod with brother Hadrios. He then strode up to the table and pulled out a chair for Hark with the casual grace of someone who thought little of decorum, before pointedly dropping himself into a second chair. Sly sat down on his other side. As she seated herself, Hark briefly feared Straken would put his feet up, but no such thing happened. Thank the God-Emperor for small mercies, it wouldn't do to offend the Lord Inquisitor the moment he entered.

At the sudden gunshots, four hands flinched towards weapons in conditioned reflex. Only Sue appeared unperturbed, but then who knew what he did to prepare himself for battle. When the Lord Inquisitor entered a disturbing sense of déja vu stole over Hark. There was something familiar about him, but she could not quite put her finger on it. Something in the casual way with which he moved, and the almost informal ease with which he spoke. It was just like... just like... but the name would not come to her. Disturbingly, when he introduced himself his name rung no bell whatsoever. And yet... and yet she'd have sworn on the Aquila she knew the man. All Inquisitors are alike, she told herself firmly and tried to convince herself that it was true and her unease was simply born from the wariness all Inquisitors instilled in her these days, but it kept nagging just below the surface of her thoughts. She quietly observed his mannerisms as they ate, her mind chewing through her extensive memory, searching. She tried to reconstruct an idea of what he had looked like before the grievous injuries to his face. It didn't much help. She tried to shake the issue from her mind. At any rate, the one she'd met had been an Inquisitor, not a Lord Inquisitor. Even Inquisitors receive promotions, her inner voice told her unkindly.

All through the dinner Hark mulled on it, eating only little. She was sensitive to dietary changes, and had no want for being embarrassingly sick for days on end. Her men appeared to have no such problems, digging into the offered dinner with the gusto of a pack of starved wolves. It was a more than welcome break from their bland field diet and they seemed keen on making the most of it while they could. Hark smiled bemusedly at the amount of food that disappeared into them. Her gaze wandered again and found the Astartes, sitting a small distance away from them. She had recognised Hadrios' pauldron numerals the moment they had entered, but as his master had not acknowledged their familiarity yet she'd thought it prudent to wait on him. She glanced at the Lord Inquisitor once more. Why us? She thought. Why, of nigh on 50 regiments, us?

+It could be coincidence+

Hark flinched when she heard Sue's voice muse in the back of her mind. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eyes to where he sat on Danny's other side. You know how I feel about 'coincidence' and the Inquisition in one sentence.

+The God-Emperor has a fine sense of humour+

Indeed. Hark briefly hooked her thumbs. She did not mind being on the butt-end of a grand, cosmic joke. It would be preferable to the alternative: not once had them being purposefully singled out by the Inquisition resulted in anything but betrayal and death. Her gaze found the Lord Inquisitor once more, a frown creasing her brow. What is it you want...
« Last Edit: April 06, 2013, 12:50:34 pm by LinnScarlett »
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