New Testingstan

The shuttle ride down was your standard trip, boring with a few minutes of gut wrenching terror as it entered the atmosphere. Other then the crew, your party are the only occupants. Basic canvas seats and straps keep you from flying into the wooden crates lashed to the floor.

As the shuttle lands, the crew chief opens the rear door, admitting a blast of frigid air, some snow and weak sunlight. He hits a quick release and kicks the cargo pallet out onto the pad. Pushes you after, closes the door and the shuttle screams back into space.

Other then the snow, cargo and yourselves the the only living soul is a squat individual leaning on an old Imperial Guard half track.

Alaric comes toward the man and ask him, with a neutral tone.

"So, I suppose you are our guide, then ?"

I bemoan the cold, and look around for something warm to stand against.

First things first: I take a swig from my hip flask to keep the cold at bay. Then it's time to go make sure the gearhead doesn't screw up the introductions.

The man nods his head vigoursly, "get in the track, its warmer. Grab a couple crates each." With that he grabs some of the cargo, and retreats into the idiling vehicle.

As you shoulder your burden you realise that while most are marked in a tribal dialect, some have your names burned into the top.

The vehicle is warm, and stacked with crates along the sides. Its arranged so as to create a gap that the owner uses as a bed, covered in furs.

Your guide drops his on the floor and goes about arranging them all into a cramped set of seats. He motions to you to sit while he prys the lid off one of the boxes you brought in.

Retriving a leather bag he grins and dumps the contents on the floor. A dozen metal bands drop on the floor along side a letter.

Letting out a groan, Alaric snatch the letter...

"Informations ! Finally !"

... with the intention of reading its content.

"Well, what is it? I really hope we're not here just to guard a scrap metal shipment."

"Either way, the pay's the same."

Karza wrote:"Well, what is it? I really hope we're not here just to guard a scrap metal shipment."

"We should be so lucky."
Sival shivers. Fucking ice worlds.

After having finished reading the letter, he put it back with the metal bands.

" I see. Orders are to investigate a suspected cult, out here in wastes - possible human sacrifices. We are either to stop it, or report back once we have more informations. "

Nodding in direction of Sten

" Our guide know how to contact the Inquisition, and with his cover as a trader we could theoretically move around without arousing too much suspicions. Speaking of which... "

pointing to the metal bands

" Metal is a pretty scarce commodity around here, and these pieces of scrap will be our way of trading with or bribing the locals. "

Jastilus turned towards Alaric after hearing the assignment.

"Cultists. Joy. And here I was hoping for an easy first assignment out of the Schola. Guess we're headed right into it then."

He turned to Sten

"Is there anything about these locals we should know before we arrive? Greeting customs and all that. I'd hate to make a bad first impression. It might make our job harder."

"What sort of settlements do the locals live in? Ten-person prospector outposts, ten thousand person shantytowns, or what?"

"Also, the rest of us can pass as bodyguards and assorted hangers-on, but what about Alaric? This doesn't look like the kind of place where tech-priests are a common feature in trader retinues. Maybe our cover needs a bit of extra work?"

By way of reply, Sten motions the tech priest aside and pries the lid off the crate marked "Alaric".

Inside is a large fur and hide cloak, that should serve to hid his nature, provided he doesn't do anything tech priestish in front of them. A survival kit, a battered lever action rifle and some ammunition.

After examining the fur cloak for a few seconds, Alaric put it on

" I guess it'll be safer for me to let you all handle the diplomatic aspects of dealing with the locals, then. "

Noding to Sten

" Who's the gun for ? "

"You. If you want it. If not, I can sell it."

" I'll take it, then. I can always use more protection. "

Grabbing the gun, he hide it under the cloak, next to his lasgun and laspistol. Frowning, he try to stop his gear from click-clicketing when he move.


If the cloak manage to hide his face and body, it is however powerless at hiding the strong chemical smell of Alaric.

"So, can we each crack open these boxes, or would that be inappropriate?"

"Go nuts."

Hearing the ok from the guide, Jastilus opened the supply crate and examined the contents.

After finishing putting in place his guns, Alaric grab the ammunitions and the survival kit.

" So, what's our first lead ? Where should we go and who should we talk to first ? "

"A day from here is a village that is a sort of hub for the area, if anyone has heard anything we should be able to find out."

"Our first stop can be the post and this side of the town, people from the hills are usuallh there."

*opens box, equips things as appropriate*

"Are there any Ecclesiarchy out here? It couldn't help to have an ear on the inside."

Chloe snuffs out the ashen husk of her last lho-stick on the side of the shuttle and flicks the remains away into the wind. She pulls her Sororitas vestments tight around her and shivers slightly, attempting to suppress the involuntary response if anybody looks. "Emperor's balls, this place is cold." Retrieving her box from the guide, she examines the contents. She packs away everything except the rifle, which she examines more closely.