Dyhern Jacques turned to the verbose pirate, and smiled the mocking, haunting smile of a master manipulator, corpse-cold and cruel as a Prince of Hell.

'It is fitting with the Tau culture,' he began, his voice as soft and icy as the black maw of the deeps 'that they will attempt to instill unrest in the population. Spread the word of their foppish 'Greater Good' amongst the masses. Lay the ground for their occupation. Infect the pathetic morass of humanity with a sweet-tasting, illusionary rot. Pitiful creatures, aren't they?' he added to the massive second figure.

'Indeed they are, Dyhern.' Eyes widened, and sweat broke out on the collective foreheads of the group. This voice was the very antithesis of Jacques; a low, near-snarling tone that stank of inhuman, savage fury- the voice of a creature that delighted in pain, and death.

'Remember' the second figure spoke again from the veiled darkness, 'even if the Tau cannot successfully seize control of the planet, any insurgency risks a weakening of the planet's defences. And that is an outcome we cannot risk.'

'Gentlemen' the gargantuan, dark shape growled. 'Make no mistake, this is not an exersise. This is no game. This is a contest of wills- a contest of cultures- a contest between alien, and human. There are no rules. There are no restrictions. The gloves are off, friends. You have the freedom to do what you think is neccesary to hold this planet.'

Suddenly, the vast shadow lunged up from it's seat, a massive, inky form looming up in their vision. A single, white hand was thrust out, pointing at the group. A long, talon-like finger extended out, pale as the flesh of a night predator, it's knuckles ringed with dozens of ferocious scars. The group clustered together as a pair of lupine eyes stared out at them from the shadows. 'Do not fail me, men. For I will see this planet burn before it falls.'

Ouch, that bastard had hit that rogue trader hard. Right in the back of the neck. As he crumbled Jercius fumbled his primer away again. So the trader was a asset? He sorely hoped that frigged bitch didn't see him as one as well. He wasn't about to be put down by the likes of her, simply because of 'tactical redundancy'. This was an aspect of war the Elysains could never fathom- that of eliminating supplies and more, importantly men. On the ground every drop trooper had a part to play- they didn't have the numbers for expendable troopers.

He leapt from his musings straight into reality once more. The lady and her retunine were boarding the shuttle, the now somewhat subdued trader wimpishly following. He doubled timed to the lander. He hoped the bumpy, and it would be bumpy, no matter how good this shuttle was, would cause those nancy-boy stormies to puke their guts out. He'd done this a thousand times before. He'd even jumped out of these bloody things. This didn't look much different. Spartan on the inside, it had a tinge of darkness to it. Like something warp-born. Something unclean and unholy. He shivered and stepped aboard. He sorely hoped that his rogue traders vessel was up to scratch. He didn't want the fields failing. He didn't want to be eaten alive by demons, to have his soul whirling through the swirling eddies of the warp in agony for all eternity. And that was the worst aspect of space travel- to know eternal damnation is but an invisible, temperamental force field away. He longed for the far and distant shore. He bloody well hoped it was nicer, and especially warmer, than this place.

Jessica became aware of the taint on the vessel as soon as she had placed an armored foot on the boarding ramp and didn't need the sudden gasp of her Untouchable to confirm it. the unusual gloom even though light from the hanger was flooding in through the hatch and the pilot's view screens told her more than any witch, let alone her years in the Emperors survice.

She shot a look at Helbert and the Guardsman, but the man shook his head,

"This is due to some warp-shield failure, mistress. it radiates from the very walls, Weakened by holy works, This feels... different to True Taint."

"I see." She replied, "Do what you can."

The Untouchable stood in the center of the passenger compartment, muttering under his breath. suddenly everyone in the cramped compartment felt the weight lift from their minds as sweat formed on the brow of the small figure. Jessica nodded approvingly.

Her Hammer was back in it's place on her back, the magnetic hoops securing it to the smooth surface of her Armour, and she smoothed out her cloak as she sat unconcerned beside her scribe, he passed her another datapad and she settled down to read it.

"Another Inqusitor has arrived?" she mused, highlighting the name, "And a small time pirate, the Emperor is fortunate that such keen eyed eagles stand watch over His realm."

Her Storm Troopers where readying their kit, lowering their visors, attaching re-breathers and ensuring that the power line between their rifles and backpack mounted powercell was secure, but chuckled at her sarcasm.

"Well they shall have to find their own way to the capital." Jessica continued, "Helbert, take us there immediately. Use Code Omega if the controllers give you any hassle."

"Yes, Lady." Noncommittal. Emotionless. Let her decide for herself what it meant.
That weirdo was making him nervous, chanting all kinds of nonsense. There was something else, to it, though; Helbart had felt this before, on Mrllst II...
Helbart took his seat at the controls. He took the shuttle off standby, gently lifted it from the bay floor. Inquisitorial flunkies don't get to take front seat often, but when they do...
"This might be a bit of a bumpy ride, Lady, with conditions as they are. My scanners picked up a lot of turbulence on the way in. You might want to get comfy."
We'll see how bumpy it can be.

Karn gulped, throwing a salute and quickly backing out of the room "yes sir! Consider the Tau scum already uprooted and killed, sir!" He left the room as fast as he could, heading for his ship. He reached it, and began prepping for undock. He opened up comms with the cruiser's flight-deck, and requested permission to launch and go planetside. His request was granted, and he was given the ID and location of a shuttle the other operatives were currently using, suggesting he make contact.

Karn nodded, and with a hiss the Singing Gremlin detached from the large Imperial ship. As he left he briefly wondered if he ought to have given that Inquisitor a ride. Probably, he decided, but he wasn't going to shed any tears about it.

The smallish ship screamed through the atmosphere, Karn relishing the pleasure of flight. He angled towards the shuttle, his larger engines making short work of the distance between them. He caught up, setting his ship off the wing of the shuttle, and tried to open a communication channel. "This is freelancer Karn Rift, calling shuttle, ID 756352. I think we're on the same side here guys, care to fill me in on any developments?"

A figure moved through the ship, it's shadow dancing in the light of the holo screens. This figure was Jack Incorian dressed in a guard suit and walking undetected through the ship. Meanwhile the body of the guard he had killed for the suit lay in a storage closet on the other side of the ship, his spine brutally wrapped around his own neck. Jack smiled as he got closer to his target, a radio officer, and a detriment to the cause of the Maak Shii Naar clan. This man had apparently been broadcasting messages condemning all who supported the Clan, and now, it was Jack's job to destroy him. His feet fell surprisingly silently on the metal floor of the ship as he entered the communications room, the door making a slight whooshing noise as it opened. Jack looked around the room and pulled a photo out of his pocket, the target was a small man with a pronounced nose and a small bit of stubble. Jack saw the man sitting in a chair with a microphone on his head; he was giving coordinates to something irrelevant to Jack's mission. Jack began to slowly walk towards his target taking off his guard cap and jacket, revealing a blood red cloak with rune designs on it. A real guard noticed him and Jack hurled a knife into his neck, everyone in the room heard the blood spurt from the victim and many screamed. The target got up and made a break for the door; Jack hurled another knife at the control panel and the door broke sending a shower of sparks over the witnesses, many fainted from the pain, and the others from shock. The only beings still standing were Jack and his target, and even then, the victim was cowering in a corner.
"Please don't kill me! I can pay you." Jack barely heard the poor man say in a muffled voice.
"No amount of money is worth the slander you have spread" Jack said, pulling the sacred tool from his cloak "But in a way, you'll still be paying me...with your blood."
A scream was heard as Jack delivered a killing stab to the mans neck, and Jack's mouth moved into a smile of sick satisfaction as he watched the blood flow into the Sacred Tool's holding tank. Suddenly there was yelling outside the door and the metal started to burn as the guards cut a hole in the door. Jack thought quickly and clambered up to the low ceiling and waited. The room shook as the door fell out of it's frame onto the floor and soldiers rushed in, one stood right below Jack then slowly began to look up as a drop of blood fell out of the Sacred Tool and onto his gun.
"THERE HE IS" The man yelled, as Jack dropped down onto the soldier and snapped his neck, Jack then whirled around hurling knives and hitting six soldiers, but they just kept coming, and finally, he was overwhelmed and pinned to the floor at the bad end of a soldiers boot.
Jack faded in and out of consciousness seeing only blurry images of hallways and holo screens. When he came to, he was sitting in what appeared to be a bridge room with a few other people, he slowly got to his feet and asked:
"Who are you people?"

((Eep..sorry about being away for a bit, deepest apologies. Will start to engage now: P.S how do you get those extended box type things? Anyway, on with the show! Edit:Just wanted to add an acolyte to my party, so Lars has someone to boss around))

Inquisitor Lars Lykto walked briskly down the corridor, leaning on his runestaff, his two servo-skulls flitting around his head like fireflies. His Lexmechanic, Inti, trundled after his master, typing furiously as Lykto issued orders. The unnamed gun-servitor walked ahead of Lykto, sweeping the corridor with it's rotator cannon. His acolyte, Sym, followed him.

"What is the situation on this crude, filth-infested world below us? What has been the nearest raid on the Tau? Who else is operating here?" Lykto questioned, in terse, clipped tones of Low Gothic.
"..I'm not..sure sir.." mumbled Sym, feverantly polishing his prized bolt pistol.
"In the name of Terra, find out." barked Lykto.

(Hoping Sym can be told what's happening so I can get Lars into the bloody affair)

Their guide, a heavily-built bull of a man with bronze sergeant's stripes on his shoulded and a Death Korps uniform, replied.

'The local PDF feels it lacks the resources to mount even small-scale operations against the Tau. Naturally, we have been operating against their surrounding systems.' The burly sergeant hawked,and spat, phlegm and spittle glistening on the bare metal floor before his boot descended and smeared it into shiny oblivion.

'Recon and Intelligence suggests a significant buildup, so the Navy has been trying to slow that down as much as possible. As for the defence- we'll be down there to stiffen the bastard's spines if it comes to fighting. The Marshal plans to- Oh, hell, sorry- that's classified' he added, his tone softening as they reached the shuttlebay. A surly-looking Naval Ensign gave a salute that could only be termed pathetic, scowling at the sergeant before handing over a greasy datasheet.

'Looks like you're posted for departure clearance in five minutes' the sergeant yawned. 'Good luck.'

Suddenly, the sergeant became a blur. In an instant of motion, his elbow smashed into the nose of the naval ensign, a hollow boom reverberating throughout the corridor as the ensign slammed into the plasteel walls and crumpled to the ground, his face and chest coated in blood before his eyes rolled up in his head.

'Sorry about that sir- fucking tars never did know behave.' He yawned again, and left.

The voxhorn to the shuttle's inhabitants barked a warning, and the retinue strapped in.
"In the Name of the Emperor, let us deliver His justice" breathed Lykto, tapping the floor with his rune-staff.
"The Emperor protects" intoned the retinue.

Jack stared at the small number of guards in the room. How stupid Jack thought you''d think that the incident in the communications room would have taught them a lesson. Jack smiled as two of the three guards left the room, one's shift was over and the other was going on break. His gaze shifted to the only remaining person in the room; a young man, perhaps a new recruit, why they had left such an inexperienced person to guard such an obviously dangerous man was beyond Jack. But that didn't matter, all that mattered was that the boy was shaking as he raised his rifle.
"D...don't move" He stuttered.
"As you wish," Said Jack coldly then he threw a knife into the boy's forehead and his gun fired two shots that hit the ceiling.
Jack was concerned that such a small uniform wouldn't fit him, but while it was a little tight, Jack could still wear it. He walked past many other guard stations and eventually reached the hangar, he was given a silent nod from another man as he walked through the station and got into a Guard ship, engaged it, and began flying towards the planet's shuttleport. His objective had been accomplished, all he needed to do now was find a ship suitable for space travel.

Jack ran. Still, dead air whipped past his ears, carrying with it snatches of half-percieved shouts, ringing in his ears as he fled for his life from the pursuit that followed, the rumbling of dozens, hundreds of armed killers carrying through the plasteel flooring with each long, gunshot-quick footfall. His heart pounded against his ribs and in his ears, sick with the grating, nauseating bite of nerves in the back of his throat as he sprinted like a prey-creature from an unending tide of savage, remorseless predators.

He ducked into a corner as a patrol thundered past, the caphocany of armoured boots against cold metal utterly deafening in the small, dark space Jack huddled in, the darkness looming all around him like the maw of the Kraken as the thunder rolled into the distance. Jack bit his tongue, desperately trying to swallow the ragged gasps tearing at the back of his throat, gulping in air in an attempt to stifle the roar of his own breathing.

After a few minutes, Jack stepped out of the shadows. The uniform was ill-fitting, and could not hope to pass any sort of close inspection. But it should fool anyone watching from a distance or any kind of camera. He turned, and stalked off down the corridors.

- - - -

'Find that bastard!' screamed Kasson, his face ruddy with barely-controled fury as patrol after patrol disappeared down the gullet of corridors and hangars. 'I want that fucker dead! Dead!'

A sudden draught on the back of his neck informed him of the arrival of the master. He turned, staring up at the twisted, bestial visage that stood before him, wreathed in a palpable aura of murderous frenzy and inhuman power.

'I'll find him boss. By god I'll find him.'

The master nodded, and smiled with such malignant cruelty it froze Kasson's heart. The heavy, burly sergeant stepped back and blinked. The master smiled again, the teeth widening grotesquely before he disappeared in a flicker of darkness.

- - - -

Jack paused, studying the massive, adamant plate of the hangar doors. The white legend: Auxillary Shuttle Terminal: Authorised Personel Only. lay stencilled across the gun-metal surface. The door panel required a code, but Jack's training saw it open with a minute's work, the iron behemoth's sliding open with a faint, cool hiss as he stepped inside.

The hangar was gargantuan. Vast, empty space beyond comprehension dwarfed not just Jack but also the neat, brick-red line of Aquilla landers that sat below the gargantuan frameworks used for ship repair, girders and walkways hanging bare like the bones of an ancient leviathen, gleaming under the burning glare of row after row of overhead light which gave a harsh, unnatrual shine to the dark, cold metal beneath. Bare, empty walls and a barren ceiling stared back at him, utterly devoid of life, and utterly free of places a concealed enemy might lurk. Jack stepped forward, his attention flickering back to the calm exhalation of the hydraulic door, before he took another step towards escape and-

Barely choked back a scream of terror at what stood before him. Frozen in terror, he beheld a creature from the darkest, sickest nightmares of the human soul. Seven feet tall, the monster leered back at him, wholly black eyes staring out from a once-human face, now twisted into a snarl of incandescent, savage rage. The air around seemed to crackle and pulse with raw, malevolent power. Fangs, talons and leathery wings paled in comparison to the psychotic, wolf-like visage of what had once been human.

Jack turned to run, but the hangar door blocked his path. He spun, blades whistling through the air with practised, lethal efficency towards his foe, determined to fight to the end even as-

The world plunged into darkness, robbing him of all his bearings. For a few horrific moments, he stood alone in the solid, inky void, blind and utterly helpless in the silent, sightless void, alone and trapped with a creature heknew to be a killer beyond compare.

A sudden burst of terrible agony erupted across his chest. He tried to move, but crumpled midway as his entire body convulsed in one, agonised moment as every nerve ending erupted into a inferno of blind, terrified pain. He landed facedown, nose shattering with an audible crackle of bone and cartilige, a fresh wave of white-hot torment whiplashing through his body. Somewhere above him, a dark, evil chuckle echoed in the vast, black emptiness.

Mercifully for Jack Icorian, it was this moment he blacked out.

- - - -

Jack's first sight as his eyes opened was the same as when he had been knocked out- cold, steel floorplates, stained with blood. Only this blood was not fresh- this was old, dry and ingrained into the metal he stared down at as he swung from his ankles, the explosive collar hanging around his neck the only thing covering his battered, naked body.