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[IC] The Lesser of Two Heresies.

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Klear:
MkLear shakes his head rapidly, as if trying to wake himself up, then rubs his forehead with a hint of pain passing over his features.

"Yes, of course. You have to forgive me," he addresses the former priest. "I haven't been feeling too well since we entered the hive. It's been a long day, full of surprises. Anyway, as I explained to... Brom, was it?" MkLear turns towards the guard, though he doesn't give him any time to respond, as his usual talkativeness returns. "The four of us got caught up on the outside of the hive. No means of transportation or communication, not to mention precious little food and drink. Feth, I could use a drink right now."

He says the last sentence half to himself, once again trying in vain to lessen his headache by the touch of his palm.

"It's not like we planned for our lander to break down. Maybe someone else did, but that's another matter entirely. Long story short, we figured that anywhere was better than standing outside, waiting for the weather to turn hostile, so we found a sewer pipe and got inside. There we were quickly proven wrong, but, Throne be praised, we met Brom and his pals who brought us here."

MkLear looks around the room as if judging it's character and then turns his gaze back to father Clem.

"You and your people seem quite friendly, much more than most people I've ever met. And friends is what we really need at this time. Can we stay among you for a while, recuperate and get some much needed supplies?"

Silhar:
Father Clem scratches his beard.
"Outlanders... from a broken lander. Depends on who launched the thing...", he ponders, furrowing his brow and gazing at you carefully.
Hearing the last question, he nods slightly.
"You are welcome to stay here as long as you don't cause any disturbance. Do bear in mind, though, that this is not the safest ground in the Imperium."
The priest's expression adds a sad tone to these words.
"Be prepared, for we can be attacked anytime. There are raiders and bandits here. They want our water purifier for themselves. Who has fresh water, has the power..."
He shakes his head, as if trying to force nasty thoughts away from his head.
"But as long as it is silent, be our guests. We have a canteen, we have some people willing to exchange goods like guns and medicine, we have that fickle fortune-teller girl from nowhere... One thing that comes into my mind. What is it you are looking for? It's not that the Underhive is the place somebody would visit without reason - and a damn well one, if you know what I mean."

Klear:
"We've got some business," MkLear replies vaguely. "Don't take it the wrong way if I don't tell you what it is. It's a delicate situation. In any case, we can't stay too long. Can you tell us more about the raiders, in case we run into them?"

He tries to steer the conversation away from the group's true purpose. Showing the inquisitorial rosette would assure complete cooperation of this community, but in the underhive even walls have eyes and ears... it would be best to keep their mission a secret for now.

Silhar:
"There are a few packs of these dirtbags, but the greatest one is led by a guy known as Wolf. They go around as Stray Houds or somethin' and are pretty damn numerous... Like a hundred and a half, maybe. Throne only knows", the priest ponders loudly. "It's an actual miracle that we manage to hold this village so far."
Suddenly, the blanket at the entrance is torn asunder. At the doorstep, Verd breathes heavily.
"Sorry to interrupt, the Seer would be flattered or sumthin' to see our newcomers..."
The priest gives away a loud sigh, then looks at you with some resignation.
"Would you? I don't wanna risk and she seems to have nasty stuff up her sleeve... As you can probably see. I bet ten slugs that nobody ever told her about you. But I believe that you might have other questions until you're gone."

Klear:
"So she's a psyker? Feth, I'm not overly fond of those."

MkLear's left hand once again finds his worn dice. He continues to speak, but he appears somewhat distracted, his mind racing to find a solution to trouble he's sure to come very, very soon.

"Unless I'm mistaken," he leans towards father Clem, "you're not too fond of her either."

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