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Machine Spirit PBF

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Gargulec:
As you were discussing, worrying and wondering, crude servo-skull approached you silently. Obviously, it was sent here to lead you to transport Sophia talked about.
And so you followed. Through the halls of inquisitorial palace you were lead to small landing pad on the rooftop of Lady Sophia's facility. View on the hive-city Carnelia from here was indeed breath-taking. It was hard not to praise the Emperor, for it was his will, and his sacrifice that made it possible for Mankind to erect those spires you were admiring so deeply now.

Your shuttle, visibly newly built, was already waiting. Pilot, blessed by Omnissiah with numerous bionics put out his lho and pointed you the entering pad, and then towards the cockpit himself.

Ship interior was cramped beyond any imagination- you barely managed to find yourself a seat among large crates, bearing Opus Machina sign. Soon, plasma engines fired up, and shuttle launched into space.

Part One: Into the Night
There is only one word to describe you several hours long journey to Magna Alpha- dull. No grav-plates, noise tearing you ears apart... Only the view of soon-to-be launched Explorator Fleet helped to fight boredom, for you have never seen so many ships, most of them thousands years old, glimmering like stars. Each of them was worth more than hive world, each of them was marvel of technology long-forgotten. And there were at least ten of those wonders orbiting single forge-world.


But, now, it has ended. Shuttle landed heavily. With slight hiss, doors to your compartment opened, letting you outside. Just in front of three towering figures, all clad in crimson robes. Tech-priests. To your surprise, one of them seemed even more massive, and was surrounded by wide array of steel tentacles, each tipped with some tool of death. He was a Myrmidon. But, why here?

"Welcome, honored guest" one of them spoke, with unpleasant, flat voice. "I am Magos Diego, and I am here to greet servants of Inquisition. Lady Sophia informed us of your arrival day ago, and it's good to see you, for we need your assistance."

Malek Deneith:
- Pleasure to meet you Magos... - Laz replied forcing himself to best smile he could... 'whole planet of damn tech-priests, fragging awesome, just what I needed' - To keep things to the point: we're going to need some discreet place to use as a base while we work on the matter, we'd also be thankful for all the informations concerning the cult if you have any. Oh and also Lady Sophia sent one of her... ah... 'special' servants with us, please don't be alarmed - we could use some covering clothes for him too - 'maby they haven't heard about me, maby I won't die... yet'

Marcus Constantine:
Marcus was calm through the whole journey. He didn't say a word, praying in silence the whole time. He was really absent, out of body. Like would never be touched by any trouble or confusion.

What is going on here? That psyker was right. I just don't like it. Why are we sent here. Without training. Are we supposed to be some sort of sacrafice?

When the starship landed, Marcus just stood up, went outside, without hardly noticing anyone. He just stopped in front of the tech-priests.

Do you think they can be trusted? Think about it. Watch. Listen... "... need your assistance.". They might need your assistance, but my? These beautiful creations of Machine God would certainly deal switfly with any weak Chaos followers. Why do they need us? Maybe we are meant to be sacraficed, maybe that is what Emperor wants?

No, we are meant for something greater. We just cannot allow that. We have to listen, we have to watch. You hear me? WE JUST CANNOT ALLOW THAT!

Nobody could tell anything from Marcus face. It was... it didn't show any emotions. But his mind...

Xander Morhaime:
Halsted had spent pretty much all of the journey preparing for a potential unfriendly welcome. Stripping and cleaning his weapons, checking the charges on the laspacks, preparing everything. Just in case they had to fight on the landing pad or some such. Thus, when he disembarked, he looked pretty much the picture Guardsman bound for the front, dressed in uniform and flak armour, weapons not ready, but kept close at hand, rebreather hanging around his neck.

"While we're at it, ask if they know where to get some food around here. It's been far too long since breakfast," the guardsman suggested to Lazerus.

Passionario:
The psyker seems to pay little heed to the Myrmidon's impressive array of metallic death-tentacles. Instead, she appears to be studying the cleric's emotionless face, as if sizing him up or trying to read his thoughts.

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