Inquisitor Volsk Osbourne's Story

Inquisitor Volsk Osbourne shot up in bed. He looked around, his hair all atangle. "Oh, yes, that's right." He shuffled his way out of bed, and over to his closet, where he pulled out a a very plush, black robe. He walked over to his desk, and sat in his thick, leather armchair. He sat with his head in his hands and his elbows on his desk for a few minutes. He looked up after a few minutes and pressed the activation rune on his intercom, "Ahem! Would anyone who is a member of my crew please follow the red line that is about to light up? It will lead you to my briefing suite. Thank you, that is all." He put his head in his hands again, "Ugh, alright, let's go." He walked over to his brewer, and made himself a heaping mug of Tanna, with plenty of cream and lilly honey. He took it with him down to the briefing suite, where he picked up a dataslate, and read recent news reports while he waited in his robe for his team to meet him.

"Sacrilegious little mutants..." muttered the Tech-Priest.



"Ahem! Would anyone who is a member of my crew please follow the red line that is about to light up? It will lead you to my briefing suite. Thank you, that is all." said the voice of the Inquisitor over the ship's intercom. As he finished speaking, a line of red floor lights flickered to life, just as he said.

"It seems our host has called for us." said a female voice from behind Varn and Holt. The Tech-Priest turned to see the Navigator from earlier stepping out of the Navigator's pit.

"I suppose you were here the whole time and did not care to involve yourself in this conversation?" asked Holt, turning to leave.

"Precisely." said the Navigator, who was somehow standing right next to the exit, despite having been across the room just a moment earlier.

"Bloody psykers..." said Holt under his breath, before following the Navigator out.

"I'm a Squat, Laddie!! An' what aere ye supposed tae be, some sort of scrawny, Beardless Eldar..?!"

Varn blinked for a few moment, "First off, what the frak is an Eldar? Second, what's a Squat? You're the same size as a ratling, how can't you be one?" Varn demanded, he had never heard any of the terms before, and similarly, he had never seen a powerfist before. "What is that thing on your hand? Some form of augmentation or - " Varn didn't get any further in his question when the Inquisitor's message was broadcasted across the ship, red lines began to illuminate the direction that the people had to go.

"It seems our host has called for us." another voice said behind Varn, and he spun around and saw a tall woman in robes standing nearby them. "I suppose you were here the whole time and did not care to involve yourself in this conversation?" The Tech-Priest asked, and the woman responded "Precisely."
"You know," Varn said to both the so-called Squat and Tristan, "I'm already to think that the Penal Legionnaires are more sane than the people we'll be dealing with."

Varn then started to follow the directions of the red illuminated lines. I'm glad that I don't have any valuables on me right now, that Squat Ratling would probably nap them, even with that meatloaf sized augment hand of his, Varn thought as he walked down the hallway, trying to stay somewhat close to the others.

Thungrim Thunderfist was already a good halfway to the engine (So of course the Guardsman could not possibly still be addressing him) room when the tannoy blared into life.
This also meant that he missed the 'Mutant' comment, which was just as well as brutally murdering a Tech Priest before the ship even took off, while doing the universe a favour, would not exactly be productive to the mission.

As the red lines flared into life upon the floor, Thungrim began to follow, pausing only briefly at a nearby access terminal and, having produced a strange looting runic tool from his belt, proceeded to shut off all electricity, plumbing and air conditioning to the Tech Priests quarters.

"Next time it'll be a bolt round."
The Dwarf grunted, returning the tool to his belt as he stumped away.

****

Some minutes later saw the large, double doors to the briefing suite slid open to admit Thungrim Thunderfist, who came striding in, a stein of ale gripped in one fist.

"Ach ye need a proper drink, manling!"
The Squat grunted, nodding to the Inquisitors tea, before taking a long draught of his own beverage.

Refusing to suffer the indignity of sitting in yet another Manling sized chair, The Engineer leaned back against the wall, producing his pipe once more from his belt as he did so.

"First off, what the frak is an Eldar? Second, what's a Squat? You're the same size as a ratling, how can't you be one?" the Tech-Priest heard Varn muttering.

Was not deployed against either Eldar breed then.

"What is that thing on your hand? Some form of augmentation or - " he continued, before realizing the engineer had left the room.


"You know," Varn said to both the odd looking woman and the Tech-Priest, "I'm already to think that the Penal Legionnaires are more sane than the people we'll be dealing with."

"I believe what just occurred requires some explanation." said Holt.

"Mr Gaius, that was a squat, not a ratling. The two are entirely unrelated breeds of abhumans. It is understandable how a person not schooled in xenobiology could mistake one for the other, but in the presence of either of them, it can be a deadly mistake, particularly when the offended party is a squat. That one happens to be armed with a power-fist, though I am not entirely sure whether it was augmentic or merely a gauntlet. As for your other question, the Eldar are a particularly dangerous xeno-breed, for reasons that are to complicated to explain. Now then, let's get going."

Holt turned to follow the guidance lights. After a relatively short walk, he came to the door of the briefing room, and found the Inquisitor and the squat already there. From the corner of his eye, he noticed the Navigator and Varn not far behind him.

Squat was clearly operating bridge controls. Should avoid future contact, for the sake of not getting spaced.

Varn followed Tristan, so far he was the only person he knew on the ship, so he would stick around till he started to know anyone else (and with all luck, they would be more... normal). Eventually they reached the Inquisitor's chamber and Varn's mind was immediately blown away with what he saw. The furniture was something Varn thought to rival that of Frenksworld's Governor, the artwork that decorated the walls varied from (what Varn would consider) masterpieces to hideous and disfigured paintings. Varn couldn't help but to stare in awe and impression at the many tomes and scrolls, unaware his left hand slowly reached out to pick up a thin book from the shelves when his attention was diverted elsewhere.

He looked at the Inquisitor's bar and marveled. The two years he had been on Sheol XVI, he had forgotten what it was like drinking alcohol, and while he had been on Malice, he had been drinking dirty water for most of the time. There was a part of Varn that seemed almost... Disgusted by the idea of drinking poison for ones liver, though as sweet memories on Frenksworld returned, the feeling was washed away.
He then snapped out of his awe, realizing he was standing before his superior, "Legionnaire number 11A-6224-QD6TG-4XN5, at your service and disposal, melord," Varn saluted, old instincts snapping back into play, though he quickly added, "I mean... Legionnaire, Varn Gaius, melord."
He gave a nervous glance to the Squat that leaned against the wall while he smoked his pipe. "Erhm... Melord... Will there be others?" Varn asked, with a sense of nervousness. He had been surrounded by hardend criminals and Arbites for two and a half year now so he felt awkward and out of place, standing in his prison ragged clothes and with his Legionnaire tattoo imprinted on his forehead while everyone else present were... 'civil' in comparison.

Volsk nodded and downed his tea, "Mmph! Aahh! delicious. Now, onto business, first thing's first," He reached over to the table next to his chair and picked up a small, grey, metallic box, and tossed it to Arcturas, "That is your limiter, it will limit the void that you create, making your presence here much more bearable for those of us who are of the psychic persuasion." He turned his head to the Navigator seated in the chair next to him, "Ah, the ever beautiful Yolande Visus," He took her hand and kissed it, "How are you today my dear?" They always started briefings with a small bit of banter. As she finished telling him about her day to day events, he stood and adressed the group around him as a few more of his team, already well entrenched in his life, began shuffling their way into the briefing room, "Welcome, those of you who have not had the pleasure of my informal acquaintance, I am Volsk Osbourne, and I offer my hospitality to you. Any questions before we begin?"

Holt made a sound somewhat like that of clearing one's throat.

"If I may my Lord, I have a question of a rather complicated nature regarding this ship which has been troubling me since shortly after I came aboard it. said the Tech-Priest. "In the few hours I have spent aboard this vessel, it has become very apparent to me that the size of this ship's crew is well below the minimum size necessary for the operation of an ordinary ship of this class."

Holt paused for a moment in hesitation.

"I also briefly visited the ship's Enginarium, and found the entrance secured by an advanced gene-lock, something which seems out of place in an area of a vessel that would normally see hundreds of Tech-Adepts and servitors entering and exiting it every day. I would like to know how it is you have achieved this degree of automation. Know that I am making no accusations and mean no disrespect, and that I will accept your decision should you choose not to answer my question, but I would at least like an assurance that this vessel is not tainted by the use of forbidden technologies—namely that of the abominable intelligence—so that I may put my mind at ease regarding this issue." said Holt. As the words left his vox implant, he felt a sense of growing dread as he noticed many of the people in the room were staring—and in the case of the Navigator, glaring—at him.

Omnissiah preserve me, it had to be asked. Have not impliated Gaius, though the Squat will most certainly inform Osbourne that he was there. thought Holt.

Flipping open his tobacco pouch, Thungrim Thunderfist expertly thumbed down a wad of the leaf into the bowl of his pipe and, tugging a small metallic rod from his tool belt, pressed one of the runes adorning its length, this resulted in a flame leaping to life at the end of the tool, which he then touched to his pipe.

Soon the Dwarf Engineer was puffing away, watching the manlings argue about their ship from within a haze of acrid, purple smoke, Squat tobacco was an acquired taste, much like their ale, the flagon full of which he now raised to his lips, briefly removing the pip in order to allow him to take a swig.

It appeared the womanly Tech Priest was worried he may be flying in a possessed ship, while the Inquisitor insisted that it was merely run by an 'artificial' intelligence.
The Squat snorted to himself, expelling great twin gouts of smoke from his nostrils as he did so, it was unlikely the robed manling was overly concerned, more trying to show off his intelligence by questioning the workings of their vessel...

The Squat grunted,

"I'll graft some runes of protection into the Enginarium, Key Engine parts, Hull an' Bridge,"
Thunderfist announced,
"My brother was the Rune Priest but every Engineer knows how tae protect his machinery, they'll banish an' keep out any Daemons that might try tae tamper with the Ships workings... IF we Do happen tae have a Daemon stashed away on board somewhere ye may want tae tell me..."

He added, winking roguishly to the Inquisitor before continuing,
"Other than that, if she flies, she flies, although I've yet tae have a proper look at how she works as long as she doesn't drop us in the middle of the Warp, I'm happy."

The Engineer stroked his bread with one hand as he continued,
"As fer my question, manling, it's quite simple... Where are we heading?"

Holt nodded. "If I understand what you are saying correctly, I would guess that the virtual intelligence you are referring to a are a form of archeotech voidship cogitator. While I have read of such things in Mechanicus texts, I have never seen one myself; they are exceedingly rare, even among ships belonging to the Priesthood."

"Fascinating." he added.

Across the room, Holt noticed the squat engineer lighting his pipe.

Damnit! Does nobody here understand how much damage smoke inflicts on air filters!? thought Holt.

"I'll graft some runes of protection into the Enginarium, Key Engine parts, Hull an' Bridge,"

"My brother was the Rune Priest but every Engineer knows how tae protect his machinery, they'll banish an' keep out any Daemons that might try tae tamper with the Ships workings... IF we Do happen tae have a Daemon stashed away on board somewhere ye may want tae tell me..."

"I think you misunderstand my question, squat. I was alluding to the possibility that the ship's core bore a soulless sentience, an entity which is entirely the opposite of a daemon, but equally abominable. Either way, I am satisfied with the Inquisitor's answer." said Holt.

"You seem quiet today, my lady, what seems to be the matter?" said the Inquisitor, addressing the Navigator from earlier.

Yolande glanced away from the Tech-Priest to acknowledge the question. Internally, Holt breathed a sigh of relief. Even with a psychic-dampening headband covering her third eye, the glare of the Navigator's unblinking greyish-black eyes was quite disconcerting.

"Oh nothing my lord. There just happens to be a gaping hole in the warp sitting a few feet away from me. He has yet to turn on that limiter device you gave him, and it's giving me a rather dreadful headache. No offense of course Mr Serdali." said the Navigator, looking over at the Detective seated across the room.

"Yer question does not interest me, manling. Important machinery needs tae be protected an' I intend tae install the Runes anyway."
The Engineer replied gruffly, taking another draught of his pipe.

"But seeing as yer satisfied now, perhaps we ken get on with his...?"
He added, turning back to the Inquisitor...
Making a mental note as he did so that the Tech Priest had not considered the possibility of a Daemon fused with the ship in his rush to question and criticise it's workings, a foolish oversight or perhaps something more? For all their piety, humans could be remarkably careless.

"Where are we bound, manling?"
He repeated to Osbourne,
"Nice as this lil gathering is, some of us 'ave work tae do!"

Osbourne finished his tea and nodded to the squat, "Ah, excellent question, I suppose i should begin the briefing. After all that is the purpose of this gathering. Business first, play later, as they say." he retrieved a remote from the folds of his robes and clicked one of the buttons on it. A holoprojector whirred to life, and projected in the center of the room a photograph of a man apparently in his late forties, with dark hair, a thin mustache, and a haughty expression. Volsk pointed to the picter, "This is a picture of one Humeras Tolenka, the planetary governor for a little known hive world oout in the Eastern Fringe. He died last night of an inexplicable heart attack." Heclicked the button again, showing the picture of a young woman, possibly in her mid-twenties, "This is Ramanja Coreva, a respected and very wealthy dignitary from the same world, she died three weeks ago, again of an inexplicable heart attack. There are many of these occurances occuring, and I do not mean one or two isolated cases here and there. I mean hundreds of cases popping up every day, all of whic follow a similar, if strange, pattern. They all occur amongst high standing members of society, all those afflicted were young, not nearly old enough to require juvenat of any kind, and they all occur on the same planet. Any questions so far? or is everyone following so far?" He glanced around the room.

"I am following." said Holt.

"I assume that these bodies were examined by various qualified medicae, which means poison can probably be ruled out." He continued.

Hell's bells, what are they talking about? Runes and 'Daemons'... What are Daemons even? Is it another form of xeno? Varn thought, clearly puzzled by the terms, but the moment the word 'psyker' was said, his lips moved silently, saying 'Frak me'. Like any other Imperial Citizen, Varn had been taught to fear and distrust psykers and time in prison and Legion certainly hadn't dulled that fear, for he had heard stories how Sheol XVI had hidden cells where rouge psykers were stored and rumors had once circled the Legion that they had a psyker whose own powers blew himself to pieces. Confidence in such people was not something that Varn could offer openly. Oh, and what had the Navigator meant by there was 'a gaping hole in the warp sitting a few feet away from me'? Varn couldn't see anything abnormal in the room, and this Mr. Serdali seemed to be another ordinary human.

Varn made a mental note to have a discussion with either the Tech-Priest, or the Inquisitor, as they seemed to know more about what was going on. He then turned his attention to the briefing, already regretting not brining some form of paper to take notes on, though he'd have to endure.
"... poison can probably be ruled out" Tristan said, though Varn added, "And radiation. I don't know about this Hive World, but on Frenksworld we had radioactive chemicals going through our Spire pipes, and unless monitored properly, they could end up in the upper Hive, and that could turn ugly when they mixed with the wrong chemicals." Varn said. "Do continue," he then said, signaling that he was following.

Arcturas had silently slipped in along with some others, and had taken to a chair near one of the walls, sitting with both arms propped against his legs, leaned forward while everyone else talked and pleasantries were shared. He caught and equipped on the limiter that the Inquisitor gave him and turned it on, nodding and shrugging that no offense was taken. He was thinking about what little he knew so far, not giving the psykers previous unpleasant feelings around him a second thought. They had a Squat, psyker, what looked like a penal legionnaire, the ship Navigator, and a tech priest of some variety or another. Quite the colorful bunch in the detective's opinion, and eventually the conversation turned to business itself. The first problem, it seemed unusual and unexplainable heart attacks were occurring amongst the various youth of the higher ups. He spoke to the Navigator before the turn to business, inclining his head in her direction. "Apologies ma'am, and no offense taken. Just glad to be less problematic."

Any number of things could be at cause, he thought as he leaned back to get a larger look at things, knowing how rich youth acted. He dealt with enough, thinking their name and money put them above the sniffing and hunting of hounds like him. It didn't. He folded his hands as the tech priest and the Penal Legionnaire spoke in and gave their bits of information. He was inclined to disagree with the tech priest, and spoke up, hands still folded. As he spoke and questioned, it was clear he had gears turning in his head, as the saying went, and was already mentally running down different potential scenarios. "I wouldn't rule out the qualified medicae bit, these are rich boys and girls, their parents could pay for anything dirty to be covered up. Its a Hiveworld, that sort of thing is commonplace in general. Now, I do have a few questions, and pardon me if you'll be answering them later. What cult activity has been reported on the planet? If no overt cults, rich clubs that are focused on pleasure, martial prowess, knowledge, to potentially unhealthy extremes? I'll save my other questions for later, if they prove necessary."

Thungrim Thunderfist stroked his beard as he contemplated the Inquisitors words, puffing away thoughtfully on his pipe as he did so.
Finally, the Dwarf removed the stem from his mouth and, as the Detective finished his questions, put in one of his own.

"Any signs of stigma or mutation on the bodies?"
He grunted,
Knocking out the bowl of his pipe against his breast plate as he did so, before reaching for his tobacco pouch once more.

"How about spores? Stealer Cult DNA?"
The Squat continued,
His being a proud, ancient yet depleted race that knew well to consider the worst first and foremost and be ready to meet it head on.

"May be we have tae carry out our own autopsy of the bodies."
He added, once again quietly amazed at how swiftly the Tech Priest had been to brush over something that could prove so potentially vital to the Mission.

"Nothing should be ruled out, lad."
The Squat corrected the human,
"An' Every possibility should be considered, when dealing with the unknown in this way, only a fool leaps wit'oot looking."

The Engineer clamped the stem of his pipe between his teeth once more and resumed puffing as he watched the Tech Priest go on to question the detectives questions to the Inquisitor... A very counter productive feat.

"Private Clubs dedicated tae Pleasure, Martial powers an' Knowledge..."
Thungrim grunted,
Shaking his head at the Priest's lack of uptake, were all humans this slow? The Detective at least appeared to be thinking along the right lines.
"Cults, laddie, he's talkin' about Chaos Cults!"

Thunderfist scowled,
"An' as far as the Eldar are concerned, (Bunch o' treacherous, Oath breaking beard shavers!!) I wouldn't put it past em... Bloody pointy ears."

Volsk nodded, "excellent questions all, but I can tell you with certainty that there was no cover-up. And Raleigh Prime, as the planet is listed in Imperial Records, is an incredibly pious society, to the point that it is nearly theocratic. We have no idea if there are any cults in the underhive, but by law of averages, there must be." He clicked his remote, and flicked off the holoprojector. At which point the lights came back on. he smiled, "Now that that business is settled, allow me to introduce you all to my established team. There on the wall behind me is Corvus Harland. We met in the Guard, during the Galvus Campaign. We were both part of the 56th Combined Arms Strike Force. He was in the Catachan 17th, and I was with the Gandonian 86th. This was back before I was recruited by my former teacher, you see. We were stationed on Galvus, hence the Galvus Campaign. It was an Emperor-forsaken hellhole on the other side of the galaxy. He had been given the honor of being his squad's heavy gunner, replacing his lasgun for a multi-laser. Anyways, long story short, we met, killed some greenskins, and have been best buds ever since. He is most certainly not above using my immense capitol to purchase a myriad of weapons and armors, and therefore is my ship's quartermaster. Should you ever need a weapon, or require training with said weapon, speak to him. He also isn't a bad regicide player." The large man at Osbourne's back grunted in approval. He then gestured to his right, to a thin, shy, bespectacled girl with long, black hair, "This blushing beauty is Nomina Kellier, an ingenious programmer from Golaris, a small planet in the Helican subsector. I met her while on a case in Gudrun with my former master. She had been a small time hacker back then, worming her way into secure databases, digging for information, all very harmless. Until one day she uncovered an extortion scheme in the local arbites department. She had been hearing news about an inquisitor in the area, and had decided that her best course of action was to do what?"
The girl started blushing, looking like a child who was being scolded as she said, "Hack into your servers..."
Volsk smiled, "And where did that get you?"
She looked down at her hands, which were neatly folded in her lap, "It had your big guy breaking down my door, and then you stole my cogitators."
Volsk frowned, obviously hurt by her remark, "Stolen, oh not at all, we simply confiscated them. To search for any information you had, we returned them in short order didn't we?"
She shot back at him, "Yeah, and they were completely wiped! Do you even realize how long it had taken me to acquire that much data!?" her eyes got wide and her lips pressed together, as she blushed to an even darker shade of red, realizing that she had been shouting. Volsk smiled a crooked smile, as he looked at her, "Graah! Dammit Volsk, I hate it when you do that!"
Volsk burst out laughing, "Well if you didn't make it so easy I wouldn't do it so often. Besides, you look too cute when you blush for me not to. It's too fun."
She just returned to her shell, pouting. Volsk slowly started to calm down, "Ahahaha, whoo... That was fun...." He turned to the rest of the group, "Alright, I want each of you to introduce yourselves to the team, tell a bit about yourselves and when we're done, feel free to mingle and chat. We have a few days before we reach Raleigh Prime, and there is plenty of time to meet you new colleagues, chat, and generally get to know everybody. Feel free to sample some of my liqours if you wish, I also have tanna, or recaf if that is more to your taste. I have also prepared a few hors d'oeuvres if you are feeling peckish. So please, one at a time, come up here, and tell us about yourselves. I always relish learning more about my team."

Mr. Serdali's notion of the Royal Hivers' typical behavior did sound true enough, though Varn was born from the middle class, he had heard many stories about corruption and injustices, though nothing had ever bothered him as he had stayed in line and simply done what he was told. "How about spores? Stealer Cult DNA?" the Squat noted, and Varn's head turn, Spores? Stealer cults? What da frak is he on about? he thought.

He continued to listen as the Squat and the Tech-Priest discussed their options, though Varn had a hard time following along with what they were referring to. Chaos cults, eldars, ‘pointy ears’, DNA cults, none of it makes sense, Varn thought.
The Inquisitor eventually began to give some background of himself claiming to be of a guardsman background, and then who his crew members were. While Varn was not experienced in the field of hacking, he knew that on Frenksworld, it could get you into more trouble than it was worth. However, when Nomina yelled at the Inquisitor, Varn expected to see swift suppression to her lack of discipline, yet the Inquisitor merely smiled back. Varn couldn’t hide his shock, he stared open eyed at the woman and the inquisitor, barely believing what he had just seen.

"Alright, I want each of you to introduce yourselves to the team, tell a bit about yourselves and when we're done, feel free to mingle and chat. We have a few days before we reach Raleigh Prime, and there is plenty of time to meet you new colleagues, chat, and generally get to know everybody." The Inquisitor said.
Varn looked around and then sighed, "Seeing as this is like any other Introduction Week, I might as well go first," Varn sighed. "I'm Varn Gaius. Biochemist and soldier, at your service." Varn deliberately left out Penal Legionnaire, in this company it wouldn't give a good impression to mention anything about his criminal background.

Thungrim Thunderfist had remained silent through talk of 'Psykers and Blanks' puffing away on his pipe as he did so, the Dwarf was vaguely aware that such things had to do with humans minds and the warp, but being from a race that had no affinity with or interest in such things he put it aside as another daft manling custom.
Maybe the race as a whole would not be so easy to corrupt by the forces of Chaos if their skulls were a little thicker, The Engineer thought with a sigh and a shake of the head.

Nodding to the Inquisitors pair of henchmen (The Catachan Solider and the Hacker) the Squat noticed that the Warrior at least, appeared to be rather less flimsy than most humans he had encountered.
Another guardsman, a Detective and the foolish Tech priest all introduced themselves, Thungrim nodded to each of them in turn before setting aside his pipe and thumping a gauntleted fist against his Exo armour breast plate in salute.

"Thungrim Thunderfist, Son of Thor Firefist, Son of Bjorn Stormfist of the Stonefist Clan, Master Engineer of the Ulthrak Engineers Guild... Or rather I was before it was over run by the Tyranid scum!"
The Squat flexed the armoured fingers of his power Fist as he spoke, brow creasing and eyes darkening at the memory.

"We are an' ancient and proud race with many Grudges tae settle an' many Oaths tae which we still hold, I am here tae aid the Imperium in it's time of need as our ancient vows of allegiance say that I must."

"Tis true that many of yer Imperial scholars say the Squat race is extinct, others say we never existed while some merely try to brush us aside as nothing more than a strain of abhuman mutants!"
Thungrim continued,
"This is a lie, we are an' ancient breed, old as the Eldar an' far more trustworthy, yer Emperor was a great Warrior in his day and friend to our Ancestors, we still hold true ate the ancient Oaths despite being a depleted race... But if anything we are more stubborn than ever!"

Thunderfist made the last statement with a slight twitching of the beard that could have indicated he was smiling, although there was still a great sadness in his eyes.
Raising his tankard, the Squat sought out the form of Varn Gaius and nodded.

"By the way lad, fer future reference.... My feet ain't hairy an' Rattlings don't have beards!"