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It is the far future of the 41st millennium, and the galaxy is in a state of war. The end of days predicted by the Emperor's Tarot has come to pass, as the Imperium of Man tries to stave off a bow-wave of the xenomorph Tyranids from the underside of the galactic plane. Already a growing sphere of psychic turbulence has engulfed a hundred worlds, and slowly expands like a malignant tumour, already threatening to encompass more space than the Eye of Terror. Orkish warbands, always spoiling for a fight, continue to attack Imperial strong points, isolated Hive Fleets, and Chaos strongholds located nearby, reveling in the planet-wide brawls that ensue. Chaos forces themselves, while pledged to tear down the Imperium, fight a defensive war against all aliens that assail them, knowing that if they just sat back, there would be no Imperium to rule. And the Eldar, both Dark and Craftworld, pursue their own agendas as they perform lightning raids against all other races, capturing some unfortunates, killing powerful leaders, and redirecting one foe into another, all in an effort to protect themselves. Even the Tau have become involved, even with their core worlds so far from the conflict, by supplying arms to unscrupulous Rogue Traders to funnel into the war effort, giving Imperial commanders less concerned with the dictates of the Imperial Creed than victory and edge. All eyes are on the swirling mass - just the way the Great Devourer wants it.

Hidden away in Ultima Segmentum is the world of Rollard's Respite. Trditionally an area of light conflict, it is here that an old threat in the guise of something new has arisen. A partially industrialised world consisting of tight-packed manufactorum cities surrounded by vast expanses of farmland, game reserves, and oak plantations, it is home to a small convent of Adeptus Sororitas and a sizeable planetary defence force. It also has a native population of Snakebite and Blood Axe clan Orks, who spend a lot of their time squabbling with themselves, but also interacting with the Imperial forces, either in trade (exchanging their manual labour for food), or raids (just taking what they want). Several punitive raids have been sent into Ork territory and wiped out large numbers of them each time, but they always come back. It has gotten to a state now that there is an unspoken rule that a single Ork is allowed to approach and enter imperial cities, but anything approaching the size of a mob is turned away with massed firepower. While the sisters actively and loudly disapprove of this, the planetary governor is a very shrewd man, and has so far managed to convince the Sisterhood to stay their hand against any party, as the convent size would mean any military action taken would result in their swift destruction at the hands of an army a thousand times their size. Like the Ork, the Tau air and water castes engage in trade with the planet rulership, trying to expand their influence over the world so that they can add it to their fourth-sphere expansion. After the events of the Damoclese Crusade, they are more cautious than ever to keep their activities as secret as possible, having learned that the imperium may be slow to respond, but when they do it is with nearly unlimited resources. In addition, rumour also has it that warp gates exist on the world, although no evidence has been found of them, nor of overt Eldar activity.

Rollard's Respite may seem incredibly progressive to some, and incredibly heretical to others, it is here that a variant xeno strain has taken root and, if successful, could spread to many other worlds, digging in and awaiting the perfect moment to rise.

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Rosette - Chapel of Our Martyred Lady

The day had come like so many others on Rolland's Respite, talk of heretical happenings within the governership of the planet, failiure to purge the greenskin threat located in the mountains, and the suggestion of a woeful lack of devotion to the Emperor from the general populace. Of course, nearly every world in the Imperium has its sections of society that only payed lip-service to the God-Emperor, and the militant wing of the Ordo Hereticus did not have the resources to put them all to the flame. However, the increase in tales on this world seemed to support the faith placed in the Sisterhood to expand the simple mission that was on world only a few years ago to a full-fledged commandery.

Rosette, along with seven other initiates, had been called into the central chapel by Palatine Brios, one of the few sisters who had been stationed on the world before the order's expansion. A large woman even without her power armour, she had served in many front-line combat operations against the Ork infestation, but always been forced to hold back from following her zeal and leading operations against them by the weak will of the PDF command refusing to supply adequate support, as their own fighting vehicles were limited to a few Rhinos and two Immolators. Standing in the pulpit, wearing her traditional off-duty attire, the various scars of bettle were plain to see, etched into her flesh.

"Novices of Our Martyred Lady" her voice boomed out, amplified by the construction of the chapel, as well as hidden technological devices. "You have been summoned here to do a duty to our Order. No doubt you have heard the tales spun by the weak men of this world, about involvement with vile xenos, and outright blasphemous activities. You will have also heard that our hand is being held in check by the threat of our expulsion from this world. While I am not at liberty to confirm the latter, you are all here to seek out information on the former. We are in no doubt that you will find what we believe to be here, but without something firm, we cannot send a request to the Inquisition to sanction a purge of the affected. Be swift sisters, but be cautious. While we have His protection, and our weapons spell death for the unclean, the numbers that a single heretic can turn against us with but a word can be significant, and while all here would gladly die in His service, death without completing our duty is inconsiderable." Brios took a moment to look between everyone assembled, judging their own levels of faith. "A new threat to the spiritual wellbeing of this world has recently come to light. Something called the Society of Sensation has begun to spread and, while it pays its tithes and openly proclaims devotion to The Emperor, the Cannoness believes that they are being a little too loud in their devotion. There have also been reports that weapons of alien origin have made their way into the hands of the PDF. This needs to be confirmed or put to rest as, if true and left unchecked, any number of xenotech devices could slip through to the general populace, and further undermine their faith in the might of the Emperor. Investigate both. You are set to depart at once, so if you have questions, ask them. Otherwise, The Emperor Protects, sisters!"

Celedra - Central Webway Gate

The transition from the Webway to Realspace was always a strenuous affair, especially for those who were sensitive to the flows of the empyrion. Stepping from one realm that assaults the mind to one of the senses so suddenly could even kill those of a weak mind, but the Eldar had perfected movement between the two several millennia ago, and the few stable paths that remained were almost like just stepping through a door. The link to Rolland's Respite, as the Mon-keigh called it, had been one of the paths that had fared poorly since the Fall, and even now had a feeling of shadow looking over the opening end. The world that greeted Celedra's eyes, however, was unlike any other Imperial world she had stepped on before. Still a far cry from the natural splendour of an Exodite colony, it felt... cleaner than most. The webway gate flickered and died a few seconds after arrival, the psycho-sensitive material returning to a dormant state now that it was no longer required. It could be reopened if need be, but the only two paths that led from it were back to the Craftworld, and to one of the smaller islands also on the world. The gate itself was relatively safe from harm, located in a dense forest as it was, and had not been found in the ages that it had stood there before. Or, if it had, nothing had been done about it.

The strands of psychic energy nearby suggested that a large number of raucous and chaotic individuals were to the west, primitive but sharp and bright. To the north-west there were fainter trails, these ones duller and more regimented, but there was also something else on the world. Something familiar, and yet so slippery that the mere notice of it seemed to cause it to run like oil and vanish.

Shas'ui Sera, Gue'vesa Tarner - Orca Dropship, inbound on Rolland's Repite

The gentle hum of the dropship's engines permeated the air onboard the short-range transport as it slid through the blackness towards the new assignment for the assembled Fire Warriors and auxilleries. The Air-caste pilots making the ride effortlessly smooth so as not to cause any strain to the new garrison troops on board - a half-strength Cadre. While the filters on the ship were working correctly, the air being recycled was beginning to smell both of the Tau, but also their Human allies. Two full squads of Fire Warriors were strapped into their harnesses, while six Human auxilleries, including their leader Gue'vesa Tarner, had resorted to standing, holding on to straps attached to the compartment's ceiling. Withing the heavier lockdown section were three XV-8 battlesuits, two marked as being piloted by Shas'vre, and one belonging to the mission commander, Shas'O Es'Tau Torash. In her own specialist harness, Shas'ui Sera and her prototype crash suit and been secured. All armours were painted light blue, showing their origin for Sa'cea, cementing in the minds of all that this was important enough to have a first-sphere force assigned to it, even if it was a small one.

The hatch connecting to the command section slid open, and the military commander for this operation, Shas'O Torash, stepped through, his pilot suit showing evidence of having been worn for quite some time. On one thigh he has a pulse pistol sitting in a holster, while against the other was a symbolic bonding knife. The door slid closed, and the commander clasped his hands behind his lower back. "Honoured warriors. You all know that we are inbound on a Gue'lei world that has been marked as a potential candidate for the fourth sphere expansion. While we do not go as conquerors, we will not be idle. Those of the Air Castle have arranged for our Cadre to be the first official Tau military force on-world in order to assist the locals with their greenskin problem. This is an arrangement with the rulership of the world, but it has been ordered that we remain away from populated areas. The burning of the Great Gulf which they call Damocles is still fresh in everyone's minds, so remain on the front we shall. However, the Etherials have declared that a small detachment of their own should remain within the city, so as the infer the benefits of the Greater Good." His gaze moves to Sera. "And, at my request, we have a specialist who will be operating as a Lone Hunter, in case something arises that has not been forseen." Returing his attention to the assembled warriors as a whole, he puffed out his chest, slamming his fist against it in salute. "Honour to Sa'cea! Victory for the Greater Good!"

Haara, Zirix - Western Lake

The gentle morning air moved ripples on the lake's surface, native animals sat at the water's edge, lapping the calm waters while the sun warmed the air pleasantly. The irrigation channels running off from the lake to the closest farms rumbled softly, pumping small streams of liquid away in order to feed crops that could, in turn, feed the populace and beyond that, pay part of the Imperial Tithe. But the peace did not last, as the air started to grow cold and oppressive, the air itself starting to coil and twist before finally tearing itself open into a portal through to Warp Space. Startled, what few animals there were began to flee and, should any imperial citizen have been nearby, they would have seen jagged spires at impossible angles, great chains and hooks creating a web-lattice between structures, small figures and vehicles darting from one to another, and above them all a great star, torn from its place in the universe and suspended to provide illumination to a place that should have none. If sound could pass through, they would have heard a symphony of screams, shouts, gurgles, and above all, laughter.

It was through this portal that two figures slid from the impossible city through onto the grasslands of Rolland's Respite. The first glad in gladiatorial attire, armour protecting one side of her body while the other simply showed a skin-tight outfit that emphasised grace and fluidity of movement, coupled with viciousness and the promise of a slow death. The other wearing a heavier suit with artificial flight, giving the impression of a more direct combatant, but also one who can relocate easily should the need arise - The Bloodbride Zirix Laceral, and the fallen Scourge Haara. Before departing from Commoragh, both had been given their tasks to accomplish on the world infested with primitives - find slaves, evaluate the planet for a full-scale Realspace raid... and have fun.

Haara

.. and have fun.

Hot. Foul. Dark. These would be the three words best descriptive of Haara's mood as she was flung through the Immaterium and into this forsaken backwater of a planet. The agony of having her wings torn off was, as she had expected, even more gruesome than the time when they have been first given to her in that absurd initiation, but it was not the pain that she minded - a bio-mechanical reaction she had learned to cherish on many occasions, screaming and convulsing and laughing between the shattered shards of half-consciousness, orgasmic or otherwise. No, it was the suffering that lay behind this particular form of pain which maddened her, the loss of everything she had managed to achieve in her two centuries of existence.

Her crippling ensured that most of the training she had undergone would be useless - the Trueborn bitch had known when she had done this to her - as most of the weapons Haara employed had been designed to be fired during flight. Not even her armour was as effective now, but the idiot had not anticipated the modifications she had made.. and the jetpack. It was not the same, it lacked the organic motion, the essence, but it would have to do. Struggling to survive, hunting for scraps, hoping to gain a fraction of what she once had, and they called this fun?

Damn the Kabal, in truth - her mood had been hot, foul and dark ever since she had been informed of who she will be working with. Casting a look at Zirix she shook her head with a long sigh, here she had hoped to get at least a bit of quiet, some time to think and she had been assigned to a blade-maniac who's life revolved around gutting even more than most of their kind did. Still, she would not be.. entirely judgemental. Yet. Book by its cover and all that, she'd thought all Haemonculi were stark insane until she had met Sathorius - which reminds her usual absent-minded, ah, mind - she has to keep an eye out for quality Orkoids to 'donate' towards her patron, and she might just convince the man to help her out with her problem. This should not only be useful but moderately entertaining - how does one determine suitable quality in an Ork without experimentation? She grinned to herself as she checked her equipment and weighed her rifle in her hands. Like that time when she first got the balance on the jetpack right - had to burn through a few subjects to varying degrees of literal meaning but it was all for use. Sigh.. why couldn't the Haemonculus restore her before they sent her to this shithole?

Not that she could entirely blame Sathorius, he was actually one of the most rational of his flesh-moulding kind, likely the reason he took to her, and the fact that she had never wanted to become a Solarite preferring instead, a lab! Somewhere quiet, maybe, yes the quiet.. come to think of it, she should take a few moments to appreciate the silence of the grasslands. It was contemplative in its own way, maybe a device to dull the auditory nerves would help with philosophy, if she would ever find a way to distribute it to the upper echelons of their charming Commoragh.

"Pfah," she spittles as she jolts herself back to reality.. or this reality since there was a lot more that came over and under this. Adjusting her monocle she stepped on through the immediate area, scanning for anything that might be worth investigation or at least be slightly interesting.

Rosette smoothed down her habbit again for the 7th time before scrunching it up nervously in her hands and smoothing it down again, as she sat in the waiting chamber with her seven sisters. She gulped hard as they were called in, uttering a prayer under her breath as she took her ordered place in line.

She chewed her lip in excitement as the Palatine addressed them, eager to finally leave the walls of the convent and experience the real world. She remained silent at the end, not wanting to utter a word and delay their release.

Upon being dismissed, Rosette quickly scurried to the armoury with her sisters, nudging each other as they ran in excitement. Skidding to halt, she beat the others inside and quickly started to pull her habbit up over her head, forgetting to undone the waist cord which caught against her breasts and then chin, pulling the simple white shift she wore as underclothes off with it. The cold morning air and stone work of the armoury caused skin to prickle into goosebumps as she jumped from bare foot to bare foot as she examined herself in the soft light that bathed the room from high windows. Nervously, she eyed up the other undressing women, comparing how she sized up to them on this final test.

Rosette let out a sudden squeal as she felt something cold pinch her nipples and breasts from behind and jumped forward. She hastily covered her chest with her hands and arms before spinning angrily on whoever had grabbed her, but sighed as she saw it was just Miranda.

"Jumpy Rosette?" Miranda laughed, standing proud in all her glory, "Still feeling bashful?"

"I-I... this is not the time for games Miranda," Rosette huffed back, trying to sound firm but only shrinking back into herself more.

It was hard not to be bashful when she compared herself to Miranda. Miranda was 4 inches taller, stronger and several cup sizes up from Rosette, and had the confidence to pull it all off. Despite all that, somehow the two were close friends, having entered the order and convent at the same time as each other and suffered through training with each other.

Rosette blushed again as Miranda turned away to start donning her arming suit, revealing the black fleur-de-lys tattooed on her left butt cheek. Rosette remembered the night Miranda got that tattoo; it had been a particularly hard day of training and the Prioress has rewarded them by opening several casks of sacramental wine and letting them indulge. After many drinks Miranda had thought it a good idea to get matching tattoos to display their faith and they had argued over more drinks where to get it. At first, it had been their cheeks, but Miranda kept pushing fora more risqué local, eventually compromising. Miranda had gone first, but after seeing the process Rosette chickened out. Rosette may have enjoyed Miranda's discomfort the next day more next day when they had to sit on hard wood benches, if it wasn't for her own hangover, as they listened to the Prioress lecture on moderation and over indulgence. To this day, Miranda threatened she would get Rosette back and give her the matching set.

Slipping into her own arming suit she looked around as saw most of the others had started to catch up.

"Hurry up, Rosette!" Miranda called, "We'll miss our choice of assignment if you dally.

Looking up, she saw Miranda was already closing up her powered suit and strived to catch up. She hoped they would be assigned to assess the Society, as looking at tech would probably mean dealing with the thrice cursed Administratum Mechanicus, accepted heretics who held a machine god alongside the Emperor in their electric hearts.

Celedra had been chasing the trail of her departed master for nothing short of twenty years. She had harnessed the teaching's of the seers and all their collective wisdom had led her on a wild goose chase through the Webway. Every unsanctioned stop and each unfamiliar door had been building a strange crescendo. And this is where it had led. Rolland's Respite. An entirely unimpressive visit for her abandoned exarch. But despite how quickly this backwater planet bored Celedra, she could almost smell Mauvan's scent upon the wind. His signature aroma was quickly replaced by that of the local flora and fauna. She closed her eyes tightly, searching him once again, trying to drown out the debilitating white noise of the forest. The planet, however, battled back into the forefront of her consciousness. She scanned to and fro with her witch-sight, hoping for but a glimpse of anything familiar. Once again the planet, especially this forest, proved too challenging to conquer.

Celedra reopened her eyes and watched her runes dance about her blade. She held the pulsating weapon out towards the two strongest, albeit foreign, psychic entities. Her options weren't exactly great. Whatever she did, she had to do it on her own, unless of course she could find other Eldar on the planet. And her intentions, chasing after a lost love abandoned from the path, would almost definitely be viewed as childish and naive. And though the warp pulled her to the west, she feared the chaos of whatever intelligent life produced the signal, regardless of how helpful they may be. Her only other option, being rather unfamiliar with the planet, was to travel north-west, to whatever blunted psychic presence was native to the lands.

With no better preparations to be made Celedra set off in her chosen direction. She hoped for a short a peaceful walk, but was sure that Rolland's Respite would not cease to challenge her advances.

"For Sa'cea and for Tau'Va!"

For Sera, the moment before the attack was the best part of a fight. It was the time to review and create strategies, prepare herself mentally for the upcoming battle and relish the inevitable victory of the Greater Good. Greenskins were tactically competent but easy to outmanoeuvre strategically - this mission would be as simple as it came, she was sure. It would be simple enough to remove their foul presence from this world before the time came to claim the planet.

Her eyes wandered over the other soldiers aboard the dropship. The regular Fire Warriors were nothing new - they would follow the orders of Commander Torash to the letter. The Gue'Vesa, however, were more interesting. Common wisdom was that they were auxiliaries, to be used he humans had a better capacity to improvise compared to a Fire Warrior, and a tenacity that Sera somewhat admired. Unfortunately, they were more prone to... inappropriate comments about Sera's appearance. As she technically lay outside of the command structure, there was nothing she could really do to discipline the troops, but she'd often entertained ideas of turning on her drone controller and chasing them around with a few gun drones. It would hopefully put an end to their rowdy behaviour..

Opening a private comms channel to Gue'vesa Tarner, Sera spoke. "Gue'vesa Tarner, it's a pleasure to meet you. I may have objectives for this mission that require the aid of your skills and your team. Would it be possible for you to accompany me in such a circumstance?" Tarner would be a valuable ally - her devotion to the Greater Good burned almost as brightly as Sera's own.

Zirix Looks around the seemingly calm surroundings with a slight glare her eyes scanning each before eyeing up the wingless scourge. Nodding she shared her thoughts about this place or at least she assumed she did. Slaves... that is what she wanted slaves and pain of which she would gladly bring it upon this world.

Realspace always felt so... off too tangible for her tastes what she would give to be back home in the arenas, pitting herself against others and bringing the crowds to cheers, if she closed her eyes she could still hear them, watching her slay her victims in the most artistic manner before feeding off of them to sustain her own youth and preserve her soul for a little longer from the chaos god her kind had given life.

Looking around she scans the area along with Haara. "what do you think? Where should we begin our search?" She asks her with a tilt of her head and a smile full of malice.

The smooth humming of the engines of the Orca Dropship gave Jeyla Tarner a deep feeling of security. She felt like she was in the belly of a gigantic bird, that could travel across the stars. Of cause this wasnt the case, but sometimes she just loved it to lose herself in naive day-dreams. With her common grim look on her face, dispise her joyfull thoughts. Standing in the middle of the Dropship, she and her fellow Gue'vesa had no harnesses to strap into, so they had no other choice then to just grab a strap and hope for the best. "Fishheads stay Fisheads..."
Wearing their light scouting armor, and the Bolt-rifles on their backs, the six Human auxilleries from Qual held thight to the straps, as most of them had learned the hard way, that an save flight could turn into a choppy one, in a mere split second. Their uniforms were held in very similar colors of the Cadre they were supporting, yet held a bit darker, as they would prefer to stay out of sign for as long as they could. But this wasnt the most distinguished feature of the auxilleries look. The people of Qual had allways used Warpaint during their rebellion, yet after the landing of the first Tau Firewarriors, they had began to choose blue stripes over the eyes. At first it was to strike fear into the hearts of the slaves of the aquila, tricking them into beliving they would fight xenos, but later it was a sign of loyalty to the liberators. Jeyla Tarner proudly wore the blue paint on her face, just like a guardsman would wear the aquila.
As the hatch opend the different background of the human auxilleries came to surface. Three of them, veterans of the PDF, raised their heads and slammed their feets against each other, standing at full attention. Jeyla, who never had the pleasure of a formal military education just smirked shortly and looked forward. She knew that this wouldnt be a direct attack againt the imperium, yet still would serve a bigger goal. During the speech of Shas'O Torash, she could hear and feel the displeased muttering of her fellow comrads. Back on the ship, during the first briefings, many of them were upset about this assignment. Jeyla had shared their feelings, as she also came her to take the fight to the imperium, and not solve their ork problems as a glorified mercenary. But this was a naive viewpoint, narrowed by her anger, she was unable to see the big picture back then. The whole matter was explained to her by a member of the water caste. After that, she was able to convince her men to stay in line, and follow their orders.
As the speech ended, Jeyla and the rest of the humans saluted, yet in typical human fashion, by raising the hand to the forehead. Like one person they repeated the salut. "Victory for the Greater Good!" Her eyes yet had allready wandered off towards the "Lone Hunter", who would serve as some kind of failsave. Shaking her head she looked back straight. As much as she was thankfull for the Tau and all they had did for her homeworld, she would rather trust in her fellow humans.
---edit--
It was this very thought she was ripped out when she heared the opening of the private comms channel, that would connect her to Sera. A bit suprised about that offer, she took her time to think. Since the first moment she had spotted her, she knew that she would be dammed to carry the nickname "Blueberry" for the rest of her life. But this offer was far to tempting to just deny. The fighters from Qual were the most efficent when they were cut loose and acted beyond the normal scope of a narrow battleplan. Her finger moved into her ear as she answered. "The pleasure is all mine, Shas'ui Sera. I gladly accept your offer...just point us in the rigth derection.." Jeyla Tarner was listed as a "trustworthy" human, and teached in what the Tau called "the greater good." She might had some love in her for this idealism, yet her main goal would allways be one thing, to make the imperium of the aquila pay for what it had done to her family and homeworld.

Sera nods in understanding. Good. Together, they would be strong.

Rosette and Miranda - Chapel of Our Martyred Lady
The two of you finish up equipping your battle gear and gather your weapons, dashing out of the arming chambers as quickly as you could, almost colliding with a Sister Superior in your eagerness to get the choicest of assignments. The older woman sternly glared at the both of you as you continued on, probably making mental notes to single you out for chastisement later. "Come on, hurry up!" Miranda called back, keeping a steady pace ahead of Rosette, her hips swaying with every bound that she look through the hallowed halls. The other novices seemed not to be is so much of a hurry, but then not all of them had gone with the other two women to remove their habbits in favour of powered armour. Their loss.

"Hey, come on! The Cannoness' chambers are just up ahead! Palantine Brios said she had suspicions about that Society thing, right? If we can get the assignment straight from here, we won't have to worry about getting picked for it, right?" Mirands said as they turned down a corridor leading to the senior chambers. Like the rest of the convent, these halls were spartan, but the new initiates has rumours spread that, if you displeased someone, you would come down here, and some didn't come back, the suggestion that there may be some kind of... punishment room connected to them. But they were just stories...



Celedra - Eastern woodlands
Moving away from the webway gate, any residual psychic energy lingering around its wraitbone structure quickly bled away into the general low-level background noise. The forrest itself was very dense, and it took quite some time to make you way through to the central point of the woods and, from there, head out north-west. The general feeling that you were following became stronger, but barely, and mixed with the close air in the woods to generate a feeling of dull oppression. It was not sinister, just... dull. The sounds of birds in the trees started up the further you went, as did small shafts of light breaking through the canopy. Dead leaves crunched underfoot and, while keeping your ears open for signs of any native movement, there seemed to be no animals in this particular region. Then again, there was no birdsong at the gate itself, so perhaps they can instinctively tell what it was and to stay away from it?

After many more minutes of walking, you finally reach an area that you can see through the press of trees to out beyond the line. Green grasslands spread out in every direction from the woods, to the west eventually inclining and joining the base of a mountain rang that appeared to stretch off to the south and north both. It was hard to make out, but there appeared to be crude buildings wedged in the mountains, but at this distance all you can tell is that they are large and belching out smoke. Definitely primitives, but most societies are primitive to the Eldar, so that narrowed out the Necron, at least. On the path you had chosed to the north-east, there was little to be seen beyond the falling off of the mountains into more grasslands. Whatever essence you had detected was either in, or beyond those mountains. The much more violent and chaotic essences were, however, much closer and seemed to be focused around the mountain settlement. Either way, there was as of yet no sign of Mauvan.

Shas'ui Sera, Gue'vesa Tarner - Orca Dropship, Rolland's Respite starport

The Orca dropship slips into the atmosphere of Rolland's Respite with an agility that gave more to the skill of the pilot than the design on the shuttle. The Orca shook a little as it went, jostling everyone in their harnesses slightly, before the slow lurch of deceleration kicked in. They had reached their first drop point. Hovering slightly off the large open space of the planet's starport, the rear ramp of the ship opened to let in the natural light of the world. "Gue'vesa - deploy!" barked Shas'O Torash as he used the extra available handholds to make his way over to the XV-8 lockdown section. The jump down from the ramp wasn't far at all and, following their squad sergeant's lead, Tarner's squad followed her out of the ship.

The world outside was grey. Very grey. Stretching off to the East was a large urban sprawl, slums surrounding habspires, each of them grouped around large manufactorums that continually pumped smoke into the air. The air itself smelled of heavy industry, woodsmoke being the heaviest lingering. In contrast to the south and beyond the paved lands were green fields and farms. In the far distance there seemed to be an area given over to tree cultivation, given the very uniform shape of the block of trees.

Sera


Haara, Zirix - Western Lake

Haara's enhances monocle scanned the surrounding area faster than anything that the local Mon'kai could make, data flowing through on the inner screen. All around were grasslands in which a few wild animals dwelled. It seemed that the most common species was some small equine beast, only about a hand taller at the shoulder than the Dark Eldar themselves. Furthur away, but still close enough to be visible to the naked eye, was a small farm. At the current distance it was difficult to tell what was being grown there, but whatever it was, it would be far less nourishing than the souls of those that worked the land. Past the lake and to the north there was a huge urban sprawl in the distance, the various smokestacks and smog surrounding the area suggesting it could be little else. It would be harder to reach than the farmstead, but provide a far greater selection of bodies, some of which could probably go quite some time without being noticed as missing. Of course, getting in without a disguise could prove difficult.

With a strange sucking sound, the portal behind them both slid closed, the very air and light bending around the edges as it folded in upon itself, almost like some open sore trying to heal itself, and once again allow the natural light of the sun to take over. Both had been told that, once they have sufficient souls, slaves, and anything else they want, then the portal would reopen at the same spot. Of course, nobody had said anything about the area being monitored, or even if there was a signal to give. And it would be just like those back in Commoragh to simply decide not to reopen it and strand both the women there. It was also be just as likely that a Mandrake was snuggled through the portal in one of their shadows, and has already taken up watch.

Lilith - Nova Dominus

With your heart hammering in your chest, you stand over the body of your former master, his thick red blood pooling on the floor around the gash you placed in his neck. Just a few minutes earlier he had been making various gurgling sounds as he thrashed around on the floor, your blade already buried in the heat of his Eldar toy. She didn't even have time to scream, just stare up at you, maybe almost through you, with those crystal-blue eyes. Now there was silence in the room itself, if you didn't count the dripping of ichor on stone slabs. It had also gotten strangely cold within the room as well, like something was just draining the heat out of everything. There was a strange itch at the back of her skull, but not one of flesh, but more of your mind. Should anyone discover what had happened here, you would undoubetly be hunted down. But, then again, questions would be raised as to why there was a dead Eldar in his basement! Keeping human slaves was not unheard of in the aristocracy, but alien slaves? That was something else entirely. On the other hand, the man always made himself out to be a bachelor, so chances were good that his home would have no-one else within it, and anything within could easily become yours.

A strange voice seemed to echo around from both inside and outside your own mind. A voice that was trying to hide as your own, but was clearly a foreign intelligence. The words swam like strands of silk on the open breeze. "Delicioussss...." The strectched word seemed to move itself. "Our masssster relisssshed your gift. She wisssshessss for more. She will reward you greatly..."

"Let me actually scan the place and I'll tell you," Haara shoots to the Gladiatrix as she held the monocle whilst peering from left to right in a motion that would seem awkward to one that did not possess the enchanted sight. "Ho-hummm.." she hums absent-mindedly as she takes in all the information with sharpened attention. "Beasts, beasts, beasts and.. Yeah. There's a farm right there," she says, pointing in its direction. "And, ah.. a city. Scratch that, it's a metropolis," she follows with the new data, doing the same."There. Probably well defended too," the fallen scourge finishes. How do these idiots expect two women to take on that by themselves? Not even a Wych would be that senseless to-

Speaking of idiots. The portal behind them just shuts off with no means of contact towards Commoragh. Turning around, Haara buries her face in a palm before clearing her throat. She was supposed to just take them on their word that they would open the portal when they got enough slaves? Knowing her people, they could just take the bounty and leave her here to dry.

Urgh. "I'm going to feed," she tells her companion before starting to walk - no, stroll - on the fields towards the far less guarded farm. If the other wanted to join her, she can be her guest. If not, she wasn't going to stop her from going wherever. Fighting amongst themselves in this situation was a stupid thing to do, anyway, regardless of her feelings towards the Gladiatrixes. "Join me, or don't. Up to you." She says as she departs.

Nodding Zirix lets her scna the area before lsitening in to what was told to her of the area they had found themselves in, humming she twirls her sword in her hand her eyes locking onto the direction Haara had indicated the farm lied. "A city? Odd strange there isn't a full raiding party then." She comments to the other before the portal closes and she looks at it closely. "Why... Okay how do we actually get back?" She comments with a frown before shaking her head, hoping someone was watching as haara states her intention to feed, Zirix eager to join as she saunters along beside her a hand resting on her exposed stomach as she sheaths her sword. "I'll join for now wingless one." She comments before looking her over and nodding a little, "perhaps I could help you enjoy the kill more with my art?" She offers her kin knowing just how they feed Zirix's help would make it a more filling meal.

Rosette profusely apologised as she ducked around the Sister Superior and legged it, thrown slightly off balance by the heavy powerpack on her back. Eyes downcast, she fretted about looming punishment awaited them when they next ran into the sister, but found her gaze focusing on Miranda's hips.

Her mind flashed back to last winter, a survival exercise gone wrong, their habbits soaked with melted snow from slogging through the forest. They'd been fortunate that night to find a cave for shelter as the snow continued to fall outside, their meagre fire insufficient to keep them warm. Huddled under a blanket, raw flesh to raw flesh, they shivered through the night as their habbits dried by the fire. The next night, back in the drafty dormitories, Rosette had first been shocked when she felt someone slip into her bed, but quickly settled without a word as she felt the comfortable warmth of Miranda's breasts on her back and Miranda's arms holding her chest tight.

Rosette shook off the memories before she got too distracted or uncomfortable with what had happened on later visits, they all ended with her waking up alone in her bed the next morning.

She slowed her pace as she realized where Miranda had led her, Novices were not supposed to be near the senior chambers without an escort. Suddenly her armour seemed to offer no protection as visions of torment and punishment rooms filled her mind, and she dreaded what might be to come. Swallowing her fear, she kept up after Miranda, hoping her Sister knew what she was doing and that this wouldn't back fire.

Giving a last nod to Sera, Tarner turned back to her five-men squad of Gue'vesa auxilleries. Holding the straps a bit thighter she turned around, while her white hair swinged with the movment of the shuttle. Then the order came, and Tarner activated the com-channel with her men. "You heared the Fishhead." She whispered into the channel, before following the common theme of barking orders. "Look alive, men of Qual, lets move out!" With these words she made her way to the opening and jumped out of the hoovering Orca Dropship. During the jump, the Blacksunfilers were pushed down onto her eyes. The world turned into a dark shade, before slowly regaining its colors, or in this case the lack of it. Grey was the dominant color out here and a frown moved on Tarners face as she screened the surrounding. "How can people even life in such a place?" She asked more herself then the rest of her squads members as she released the magnetic holding that held the rifle on her back in place. The heavy weight in her hands gace her a trusted feeling of reassurance, here on this alien world. She turned to her men, former Rebels like her, the frown still on her face. "Like on Qual the empire takes the colors from the world! These people have lost their way with their world!"
After this small speech, Jeyla Tarner raised the gun to screen the surrounding and make for a save landing for any that would follow. "Malls and Harclay, spread out and make sure that there is no trouble in the near surroundings, stay low and dont fire without order! The rest, stay with me and secure the landing zone!" She looked up to the dropship, before smirking. "Lets see what Blueberry is made off..."

Celedra's hundred or so year stint with the scorpions had afforded her the luxury of exploring the Webway, and visiting a handful of exotic planets. However, her time as a seer kept her locked away, deeply entranced in study onboard her Craftworld of Il-Kaithe. If perhaps she had not been out of active duty for so long then this planet may have bored her. But having spent the better part of the last fifty years staring into the cold expanse of space, the crunch of twigs and dead leaves enthralled her with excitement. The heat and humidity of the planet's atmosphere encouraged her sweat, something usually seen as an inconvenience, but at least for now it was a welcome change. She frequently interrupted her walk with a close inspection of the trees or grasses, rubbing her silk-like palms against the bark and blades respectively. It was alarming to Celedra that no native wildlife inhabited the area. It further reinforced the gnawing loneliness that had prompted her to take this journey. If she was merely here for exploration she might have taken a few moments to lie down within the grasslands, perhaps fix herself a laurel wreath, and frolic about. It has been far too long since last I frolicked, she somberly thought to herself as she looked out over the expansive countryside, before violently twitching her head away, in some desperate attempt to banish the thought.

She stood there at the edge of the forest for some time, perched precariously against a tree. Contemplating what her next step, both physically and metaphorically, would be. She was sure that if Mauvan knew she was looking for him, that he would stay put, and wait to be found. Regardless of how radical or extremist he had become she still cared for him, and though she lacked the courage to follow him then, she was willing to try now. But that still remained her biggest issue- no one could contact him. None of his family knew where he was, nor had they spoken to him for some time. Even the greatest seers of Il-Kaithe struggled to locate his soul. Celedra was told that the only reason she could feel his presence through the warp was due to the strong bond they shared. Something she did not doubt but was becoming increasing skeptical about. She battled with the idea that whatever she was feeling was merely a memory, of the once great relationship formed over the torment and bloodshed that was her past life. But without some sort of proof that Mauvan wasn't out there, somewhere on this overgrown planet, or elsewhere deep within the Webway, she would not be satisfied.

After the wind had changed direction three times and Celedra had widdled down her fingernails nearly to the cuticle, she pushed herself off the tree and proceeded through the grasslands with great haste. She ran like a majestic beast, with long powerful strides that seemed utterly weightless. She traveled west, towards the foot of the mountains, propelled by some wicked mix of the warp, and her burning desire to reunite with Mauvan. Whether it be choas or regiment that she barreled towards, she was sure that the sight of one slender woman would not encourage the use of heavy weaponry. She would slow down as she grew closer to the primitive settlement, but for now she was one with the wind.

Sera disengages from her harness and follows Tarner out of the dropship, the servos of her prototype suit whirring as she moves. A burst of her jumpjets lets her leap to the ground of the spaceport, and she stands with hip cocked and plasma rifle scanning to and fro. Keen eyes take in the surroundings - the hab-blocks, the spires, the farmlands. Urban warfare, then. Dangerous work.

"Gue'Vesa." She opens a comms to the whole team. "My objective is to eliminate an Ork mechanic by the name of Gutcruncha." She shuddered even as she spoke - Ork names were ludicrous and barbaric, and she hated using them. "The alien has been acquiring our weaponry and repurposing it for its own devices. This insult cannot be allowed to stand, and removing the threat would hinder the effectiveness of the Ork offensive."

"Intel suggests he is currently working for the local tribe of Orks here. Although our Fire Warriors are more than a match for their forces, the Mek cannot be allowed to escape. That is my objective, and I would appreciate any assistance in flushing the creature out and destroying it."

No drones. She would have preffered using drones in some cases - they tended not to question orders. But she needed the skill that these people would provide far morr than the slavish devotion of a machine.

"So we are hunting Greenskins then? So be it.." Taner did little to hide her dissapoinment in her Voice. For a few moments she had high hopes for a spec-ops mission behind enemy lines. Of cause, it was one, but against the wrong foe. But then again she recalled that they were following a bigger plan, and if this mission would serve this plan, it would also serve Qual. "Lucky for you, but me and the lads are quite good at headhunting...even if we prefer other game then Greenskins!"
Without saying anymore she checked her gun again before pulling out the havesting sword, hers was made out of a mono-machet, used for the clearing of wood, yet it turned out to be quite effective at cutting of guardsmen heads, too. She tested the sharpe edge before looking back at Sera. "We are yours to command, Blueberry." A smile on her face she looked right into her eyes to show her that there was no insult in this Nickname. "I would say a bolt through the head should do the trick, no need to get up close...orks are quite nasty in close combat."

"Of course." Sera smiled back. The nickname was harmless - many gue'la used far worse terms. And as for their preferences, that was irrelevant. They would hunt the Ork for the Greater Good. That was all there was to it.

"The Orks are somewhere in the surrounding hab blocks. They have taken over a small section to themselves, and the local militia has been unable to remove them. We are not to alert them of our arrival. We run silent and fall upon the Orks before they are aware of our presence. I will move ahead and find a path for your team. Stay alert and keep me posted on new developments."

Sera moves out ahead, using her jump jets to send her leaping onto the roof of a nearby utility building and working her way from there. She doesn't feel exposed or worried in her armor - only confidence.

Lilith stared at the blood on her hands, as if she couldn't believe what happened. She has killed before, when her master ordered her to fight other slaves for the sick amusement of his noble friends, but it is a different matter to slay an opponent who's ready to do the same to her and to murder a defenseless man. For one, this was her own decision...or was it? The voices in her dreams showed her visions of possible futures, promised her freedom, power, even immortality. Was this dark deed really her own doing, or did she just listened to the orders of different masters?

No, it was her. It felt different than the kills in the improptu arena. There, Lilith was glad she's still alive, realizing it could've been her lying lifeless on the ground, and felt horrified at what has she done, killing innocents for her master. His death was satisfying, revenge both for the years of abuse and for his neglect after getting his new toy. The realization that the nobles could die just as easily as the slaves did...easier, even, he was so surprised by Lilith's betrayal he wasn't even able to defend himself. The feeling of freedom, as if she broke invisible chains binding her to his will. Regret, for despite all, Lilith was somewhat fond of her master, and he showed her his favor, at least until he got that accursed Eldar. Fear, because his death will have consequences.

Lilith focuses on her feelings, but can't ignore the voice. It sounds...or feel, as it's not a real sound...different than the one in her dreams, but it, too, promises rewards. More Eldars to kill? Lilith glances at the floor. She was jealous of the attention her master has paid to her, even if most of it was hardly pleasant for the slave. But even an Eldar died like any human. Lilith can see why her master was so interested in her, even dead and covered in blood she retains some of her inhuman beauty that made Lilith so envious. She almost regret killing her together with her master, the Eldar could have been her toy.

Master's death may go unnoticed for some time, but sooner or later, someone will get suspicious. His friends from their little cult, most likely. What to do? Lilith could run and hope she'll be far enough before her deed gets discovered. That would be the easiest solution, hiding somewhere in the city, or in some far-away village, or even off-world, if she could somehow get on a ship. But she doesn't want to run. There are other things to do, reaching for the power the voices promised. Lilith is a psyker, and if the voices spoke truth, fairly powerful one. Master's little cult had some interesting things, even if the nobles lacked power or knowledge how to use them. Lilith could try to steal from them before her escape. She could try to destroy the nobles and take their. lair for herself, that would give her a good home well hidden from Imperial authorities. Or she could try to take over the cult, the nobles won't accept her authority, but unlike them, she's got real power. Yes, that sounds like fun, and an interesting challenge. She can propably stay here for a few days, pretending nothing is wrong.

Lilith starts to hatch a plan and searches the house for anything useful.

Haara, Zirix – Grauber Farmstead



Creeping closer to the farm, you can see that it is split into two sections. To the south there are large fields growing gone type of grain that stands around chest height. It moves easily in the breeze, and moving through the fields you easily spot two women dressed in rather bland overalls. One of them looks a lot younger than the other, perhaps mother and daughter? Either way both were quietly chatting about seemingly mundane things as they worked.

On the north side there is a much smaller enclosure, but this one given over to some rather fat animals that, from the few scans earlier, do not appear to be local to this world. They amble around in their muddy pen, moving to and from a feeding trough. Against one side of the enclosure is a barn, probably where they animals get herded at night, and a young human male sitting in a chair just outside. You can’t tell for sure from this distance, but he looks to be asleep.

Between the two patches of farmland was a moderately-sized structure, built out of local woods and with the usual Imperial beaten-iron images of their faith attached to every surface. What slim windows there were had crude shutters flung open on them in order to let air and light through the unglazed portals. The structure consisted of two levels, probably to separate sleeping and eating areas and, while the Humans were probably quite proud of it, to a much more advanced species, it much more resembled a birty box someone had just dropped in the middle of the grass.

Given that the only humans outside are quite preoccupied, you are both able to sneak up to the side of the building and remain out of sight, ready to launch your surprise attack.

Rosette and Miranda - Chapel of Our Martyred Lady, Cannoness’ quarters

With a wink, Miranda links her left arm around your waist and points to the closed door ahead of you both. “One last step. Beyond that door is our future here, so let’s go over the threshold and grab it firmly!” Full of excitement, the other girl releases you and steps up to the door, knocking on it three times.

Nothing. No response

At the very least it would be polite to wait outside until summoned, but Miranda instead fidgeted for a few seconds, the very thought of getting back out into the world seeming to excite her more than anything else in the convent, before pushing the door open and glancing inside.

The room itself was quite sparten, only a few marks of achievement placed on a shelf on one wall, personal power armour mounted on a mannequin beside that, and an oak dresser with holy texts piled on it. On the other side of the room was a simple double bed, beyond that a wooden door, and in the centre, a broad desk, the Cannoness herself sitting behind it in her habbit, and staring at the two novices who had just opened her door. Miranda seemed to suddenly freeze up at the older woman’s glare

Silence.

You can’t quite put your finger on it, but for some reason she looked a little… flushed.

Celedra - Eastern Hills

You sprint out across the grasslands, moving like a loosed shuriken through the open lands and towards the growing mountain range. The closer you got, the more hilly the terrain became, but you were still able to make good time, heading towards your goal. Only, now you were far closer, and the chaotic feel of the area far more pronounced, you could tell what it was you were bolting towards – an Ork town.



Reaching a well-work path winding through the hills and into the much, much closer settlement, you spot several towers surrounding them settlement, Ork glyphs daubed in crude camoflague covering their surfaces. To other races, it would be considered an average attempt at stealth, but to your eyes there was a vast difference between the colours used and the surrounding terrain, not to mention that that they were obviously trying to hide a series of towers without the use of holo-technology. Contrary to the rest of the attempts of stealth, painted in huge purple letters in low gothic, was the phrase “Zhargland. Zog off Snakebitez, youze stink”. You think that the message is actually quite a bit longer than that, but the rest of it trails off into a string of glyphs, some quite blatantly graphic in design, and probably a warning to any other Orks in the area about what would happen should they come for a visit. Also, parked outside of the front gate was an almost pristine Imperial armoured transport, which looked to be in the process of getting its tracks replaced with oversized wheels. Oddly, however, there were no marks of battle on the vehicle.



If there are any sentries on watch, nobody raises any alarm. At least as far as you can tell, as you are able to pick up various sounds coming from within the walls.

Shas'ui Sera, Gue'vesa Tarner – Outside starport

With the team deployed, the Orca dropship levels its engines, and accelerates off towards the area that had previously been marked as Orkoid territory – the mountain range to the far east. The ork they were after in particular, Gutcruncha, should be in the slums, but how he had managed to get in there without causing stopped by the PDF, or even causing large collateral damage had not been shared with the Tau by the planetary leadership.

The members of Tarner’s squad fall in behind her, following her lead even moreso than the technically higher ranking Shas’ui. The three veterans sweeping the area with their Tau-supplied pulse rifles, Vash, Tobias and Vance moving as a team within a team, providing each other with overlapping fields of fire as they went. The final member, a former farm-hand called Ramoz, stuck towards the rear with a automatic pistol drawn, and the team’s wide-band comm sysem active.

The streets of the slum itself were quite densely packed, a common sight in more built-up Imerial settlements, even though the steel-frame buildings themselves were quite small. Gargoyles sat next to aquillas and loomed out of every building, reminding everyone below just who they should be looking up to and following with absolute obedience. The poor quality of lighting in the area did little to hide piles of junk along the sides of the roads, interspersed with the odd unfortunate who had not proved important enough to get a meal to eat, or blanket to sleep under.

From the rooftops, the view was somewhat clearer. The blacksun filters allowed some of the ever-present smog to be cleared, but it was still thick enough at the far distances to be obscuring enough. Most of the buildings were only two or three stories high, once again showing how little thought of the lives of their citizens went into the construction of Imperial buildings – it was all about the outward design and form over function.

There was, however, a small cluster of buildings up ahead that had trashpiled around the rooves as a kind of makeshift battlement. It could be where Gutcrunha was hiding out, but it appeared to be quite small. Too small, in fact, to house any of the traditional Orkish vehicles.

Lilith - Nova Dominus

Leaving the room, you move up and through your deceased master's home. It turned out to be quite large for any home in in the city, most likely down to the elite status of the previous owner, and quite the lap of luxury. On the ground floor a room next to the main enterance had lush carpets and soft leather seats surrounding a glass table. On the wall was a selection of hides gathered, most likely, from various hunting trips out into the wilderness. Off from ther was the kitchen, fairly ordinary compared to the other room, but stocked with meat and various alcoholic drinks.

Stairs up to the first floor revealed more bedrooms that the one man should ordinarily need, but the master bedroom was indeed well decorated, with a large bed easily capable of having three people sleep on it at once, as well as a very large wardrobe with all kinds of clothing in it, ranging from functional to outright foppish. Given that he liked his pets to wear as little as possible, even just being in the room was having more choices than anyone could hope for.



Feeling around in the packed closed, your fingers brush against a section of uneven wood and instinctively press it. You hear a click, and the back of the wardrobe slides away to reveal a hidden chamber. The room itself was quite small compared to the others, but a mechanical incence burner kicked in the second it was opened, wafting up a sweet scent into the air. In the centre of the chamber was a large, carved marble statue, about half the height of a man, of a figure standing in a sensuous pose, all curves and gentle lines, full breasts and erect cock, the head of an aristocrat with long hair framing the face, and.. four arms? Two of them ended in human hands, one seemingly cupping a breast while another rested on an ample hip. The other two swept up and behind her head, buried in the figure's hair. Curled around the figure was a long whip that had, by the looks of it, been used quite often. Beneath the figure was an ornate and gilded wooden box.

No,no,no,no,no,no,no,no,no,no,no,no,no,no,no, screamed Rosette in her mind as she was ushered ever closer to the door, but lacked the will to resist Miranda's pull.

She breathed out in relief tentatively as Miranda followed protocol and knocked politely on the Canonoess's door and didn't just barge in. A pip of hope started to form in belly, quieting the butterflies as there was no response from inside. She was about to suggest they leave and seek the Palatine when.... OH EMPEROR NO!

Rosette hissed out the only curse word she knew and stared mouth agape in the threshold as Miranda pushed open the door, left speechless by her Sister's actions.