IT IS THE 41st millennium. For more than a hundred centuries the Emperor has sat immobile on the Golden Throne of Earth. He is the master of mankind by the will of the gods, and master of a million worlds by the might of his inexhaustible armies. He is a rotting carcass writhing invisibly with power from the Dark Age of Technology. He is the Carrion Lord of the Imperium for whom a thousand souls are sacrificed every day, so that he may never truly die.

YET EVEN IN his deathless state, the Emperor continues his eternal vigilance. Mighty battlefleets cross the daemon-infested miasma of the warp, the only route between distant stars, their way lit by the Astronomican, the psychic manifestation of the Emperors will. Vast armies give battle in his name on uncounted worlds. Greatest amongst His soldiers are the Adeptus Astartes, the Space Marines, bioengineered super-warriors. Their comrades in arms are legion: the Imperial Guard and countless planetary defence forces, the ever-vigilant Inquisition and the tech-priests of the Adeptus Mechanicus to name only a few. But for all their multitudes, they are barely enough to hold off the ever-present threat from aliens, heretics, mutants – and worse.

TO BE A man in such times is to be one amongst untold billions. It is to live in the cruellest and most bloody regime imaginable. These are the tales of those times. Forget the power of technology and science, for so much has been forgotten, never to be re-learned. Forget the promise of progress and understanding, for in the grim dark future there is only war. There is no peace amongst the stars, only an eternity of carnage and slaughter, and the laughter of thirsting gods.

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Soaring above the sweltering heat of the industrial complex of what is called Gunmetal City, a number of unmarked matte black zeppelins are anchored above the hive. Even from this distance one can hear something similar to roaring waves of oceans on planets where these were not covered by the landmass of hives - however in this case this is the sound of gunshots. Tens of thousands of guns discharged within the city.

You have been either directly or indirectly ferried from other hives on this world or offworld to this location on this day. Alone or in small groups you are led into an amply sized meeting chamber by servants or servitors. The chamber is puritanical: A hardwood table at the middle and matching hardwood chairs around it. Pitchers with purified water, tasteless ration bars in bowls and glasses are placed across the table. There are windows on two sides granting the curious a breathtaking view of the volcano city.
This message was last updated by the GM at 20:35, Wed 08 Apr 2020.

Whilst the form and dimensions of a Hive was familiar to Zethina, it was the people... the society... that ultimately set her at edge. The calcified essence of humanity that flowed through every nook, cranny, and avenue of such mega-structures that held so many variations that her mind could only begin to scratch at the surface of what weakness and decay might linger beneath. In what seemed another life, such had been the primary focus of her sacred duties; to root out that which threatened the edifice of His Law and to purge or correct it before it could be jeopardized. It had been a duty that she had failed in whether due to a faltering in her devotion to Him on Terra or a failure to absorb some critical lesson presented by the Abbots, she had failed in that duty and had paid the due penance.

She had, however, succeeded in a way that so precious few had. She was proven innocent of the crimes ascribed to her and allowed another opportunity to serve. She was not without scars for that opportunity as a woman was built with years and unmade in minutes... but she was given a second chance to serve in enforcing the holy strictures of His Law and preserve the sanctity of his dominion. It was that chance that had brought her here and saw her seated at the table in the crisp blacks of an Arbitrator's uniform.

Innocence had proved something but it still meant nothing without the scaffolding of duty and action. That, in it's own way, left her anxious by the same token. The feeling of standing upon the precipice of either renewed service or a further durance before her with no knowledge as to which way the Emperor's hand would guide her.

Morrigan move silently into the room, moving to the far corner of the the observation deck after grabbing a few ration packs and placing them in spare pockets and begins to nibble on one, her experiences have told her to always have a few extra ration packs available.

She looks out over the sprawling hive, growing up on Dusk she did not see this many structures, nor so large of ones, and especially floating above them, she felt a momentary twinge of vertigo as she looked down at the colossal metal mountain. She saw the others around the room and wonder just what her new life would bring, her blue/grey eyes scanning everything to try and get a semblance of the future.

Txaran similarly entered quietly but the fact that he was wearing the signature red robes of the Mechanicus without his posture, poise or even his flesh seemingly marred made him a very loud and curious anomaly despite lacking the telltale rasping sound of the respirator grill so many other of his brethren had.

He had small but notable nods directed to each individual in the room that even barely acknowledged his arrival and spent the rest of his immediate time taking note of the room itself and whatever else was inside it.

As the three stood in the room they would soon hear the sound of someone whistling, which would steadily grow louder before being joined by a metallic clinking sound that seemed to keep some sort of disjointed rhythm with the whistler. As the whistling seemed to reach it crescendo the doors open and a man walked in a smile on his face as he looked around seeing the three other silent figures in the room "Is this the right room or did I walk in on a wake?" he asked as he took a good moment to look at the three each one seeing that though he seemed to be smiling his eyes showed the look of a man that had seen and done many terrible things. Once he had taken the visual measure of everyone he walked in the metallic clinking accompanying him as he headed for the table. The man was a guardsman to that there was no doubt as he wore his flak armor proudly almost like a parade uniform, on one shoulder was the symbol of the medicae darkened by combats but still visible. On his other shoulder was his unit symbol a large white X with what looked like a large sword running vertically through the center and what seemed as a autogun crossing through the X horizontally. As he made it to the table as chose a seat he reached to his waist and appeared to take off his belt before pulling a large medical bag off and placing it on the table next to himself, it was then that the source of the metallic clinking was seen as two large and impeccably clean saws hung from the side of the bag "So what brings you three here?" He asked as he reached for the bars in the bowl infront of him.

Words felt wrong in this place as they awaited the pleasure of their betters but she would have been rude to retain her silence now that someone had spoken. If one bothered to pay much attention to the details of her particular aesthetic, they'd see a few contradictions readily apparent. Mostly in the contrast between the badge of her office as one of the Adeptus Arbites and the branding of one tried and convicted, only recently marred further by the brands of redaction upon her left cheek. Other little scars here and there standing out against pale skin implying a long experience with interrogation techniques on both sides of the equation.

"I'd suspect much the same as all of us. Awaiting our handler to arrive and set us about our appointed duty." Zethina offered in a tone and diction that spoke to a proper education without much left of any of the softness of one not used to conflict or misery.

In the following silence an elderly bald man entered the chamber with a data slate in hand. He sat at the head of the table. He turned off his data slate and motioned those at the windows to sit down.
"Sit down everyone. We have grim business to attend."
After everyone took their seats he introduced himself.
"For those of you who haven't met me before my name is Inquisitor Sigismund Otto Maria Josef Gottfried Henrich Erik Leopold Ferdinand von Nassau-Jungfreud. I am not one for formalities so you can call me as Inquisitor or Leopold."
He waited for a moment than continued.
"Before we begin the first order of business: For the benefit of your fellow Acolytes would everyone please introduce themselves and their background? You can be as verbose or taciturn as you wish."
This message was last edited by the player at 21:26, Tue 14 Apr 2020.

 The man with the medical bag coughed as he stood pushing his chair back some "Well since I seemed to be the last one in besides you Inquisitor Leopold I'll start." He said as he looked at the group "My name is Morrison former corpsman of the Caledonian Grey Rifles 43rd infantry division." He said before looking back at the Inquisitor "You probably don't remember me Inquisitor Leopold but I was about this deep in your guts on Gorta 343." He said as he pointed about half way down his forearm "You were injured in an ambushed they used a device that knocked out anything using electronics so I had to work on you using the old ways." he said smiling as he lifted his medical pack for a moment the two large saws jingling as he lifted and placed the bag back down "I'm a decent shot but like most Caledonians I'm better the closer I get to the enemy, so don't expect me to be far from the front." he said with a toothy smile as he reached behind his back and produced a large axe in a scabbard placing it on the table "I prefer using a shotgun but still carry my guard issued las for when I need it, but trust me it's still almost like new." he said before sitting down and opening the ration pack infront of him.

Standing next the man with the sharply tailored beard spoke up, "As befits my robes you are aware of my status as one of the Mechanicus." came the smoothly spoken words that weren't expected out of one of the Cogs that routinely sound more like a broken ventilator than a human being, "Former attaché to the 87th Naval Infantry Shock Troopers based off of the Shadow of Mardochois, I am Txaran Aguirre."

Glancing to the others he added, "I was kitted out with a long-las that I am familiar enough with and gifted a Necromundan Sting when I parted ways with them that I am equally familiar with in use.  I will serve us as many of my brethren do tending to our equipment with the proper care and should needs arise conceal that knowledge from others by packing away my robes if needed.  The vagaries of proper discourse and diplomacy require many oddities at times."

There was only so much she was inclined to disclose of herself as even in absolution, she was still marked according to the nature of her sin and failings. Still, Zethina Calder stood when it was her turn to do so in the order of things.

"Trooper Zethina Calder previously assigned to Precinct Fortress Secundus of Scintilla. It would be Master Jansen that was responsible for my inclusion in this... cell after the investigation and subsequent purge of House Raukos for high crimes of treason, criminal affiliation, heresy against the Throne, corruption and sundry. The... previous charges against my name and honour cleared by the codified rites and procedures of both the Holy Ordos and the Adeptus Arbites. Whilst not blessed with the gifts of the Omnissiah, I am a capable operator of conventional ground craft and comfortable with most las and ballistic weapons commonly available. I am also trained in basic close quarters and riot suppression combat tactics in addition to more traditional investigative procedures." the woman offered with every air of discipline and self control one might expect of the grim lawmen of the Adeptus Arbites. A polite nod given towards Txaran whilst invoking the name of the Omnissiah whilst otherwise keeping hands clasped rigidly behind her back and shoulders squared.

Her comments regarding the clearing of charges against her name naturally drawing the eye to the brands of one convicted and then found innocent upon her left cheek. The scars, marks, and lingering ailments of one who had experienced the harsh grinding of the gears of Imperial Justice in full all the more apparent for that admission.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:23, Thu 16 Apr 2020.

Being the last one to introduce themselves, she remained seated and said "Morrigan Nemhain, formerly of the Fifth Duskite Light Infantry Regiment, decent in a close quarters gun-fight."

Those nearest her will feel a little nauseous at being in her presence and even a dislike of her despite not knowing anything about her. She toys with the ends of her hair, hoping that she would be somewhere else.

Maybe it was only now that Morrigan had drawn attention to herself that the sensation stirred in Zethina's gut and some deeply seated instinct stirred to life in the depths of her brain... But she felt a certain aversion to the other woman and was grateful she felt little appetite for the ration bars laid out before them all. Still, she was a disciplined creature and would do nothing to make issues for those who had found her innocent and secured her freedom from penal colony and labor that would have been her eventual death. That did little to keep her jaw from clenching ever so slightly, however.

"Excellent my friends, thank you for your introduction. And thank you Mr Morrison for the ... intrusion, it was damn fine work. I believe all of your skills will be of use - the obvious and...the hidden ones as well."
He said fiddling with his dataslate. Then he continued.
"As far as I know none of you are from this city nor have you any major connections here. This is usually a drawback but in the current case it is beneficial. You will soon see why."
He put down his data slate on the table and waved a control wand around. An ancient servitor with incense burning on its shoulders entered the chamber and slowly walking around handed a data slate and a cognomen to every Acolyte.
The slates contain general information on Gunmetal City located in the rulebook as well as general information on the Fanes of Gunmetal City section of IH. See the description of cognomen in IH.
"On these slates you will find generalized information on Gunmetal City. Read them, familiarize yourselves with the information and use it to fulfill your mission in the city. For those unable to read ask your peers to show you how to activate the machine spirit to read text aloud. The cognomen identify you as citizens of the City and should pass you through a general scrutiny of the authorities. They also have a DNA locked setting which will show anyone looking at them that you are working for the Holy Ordos. Try to avoid using this and proceed clandestinely."
He stopped for a moment. The servitor exited the chamber.
"Your mission is a complicated matter. I recently had a fairly sophisticated team of operators and a ground contact in the "Bullets" stack of Gunmetal City or GMC. The group was directly wiped out by a targeted explosion as they landed." he said grimly.
"The operators were investigating a religious group that was reported to have sporadically started to use weapons of unknown, likely heretical designs without any further specific information. Their mission was to find such a weapon, locate the source for these and once identified contact me through prearranged channels. Apparently the ground source was made and the operators were exterminated. Any questions so far?"
This message was last updated by the player at 14:53, Mon 20 Apr 2020.

Blessed with a proper education and a sharp enough mind to make use of all that such tools might provide her, Zethina reviewed the dataslate and took some strength from the familiarity of the incense to ward off the bile that burned at the back of her throat. Her eyes tracking back and forth along the sickly glow of the digital projection before deactivating the slate with a soft invocation of the almost appropriate rites and turning her attention to the provided identification cognomen. The small device turned this way and that before being deposited into a pocket somewhere along the interior of her uniform jacket.

Her attention returned swiftly, and duly, back to the Inquisitor not long after as he began to speak once more of the task at hand. It was not an encouraging set of circumstances but suffering and adversity forged the character of a person in their service to Him on Terra.

"Has there been any opportunity to investigate the source of the explosion for an exact cause?"
This message was last edited by the player at 14:45, Fri 22 May 2020.

Morrigan accepted the cognomen and the data slate and takes a quick glance at the index before placing it in a thigh pouch large enough to accommodate it

"Do we have a base of operations set up for us, or are we to arrange our own accommodations?" she asks the Inquisitor.

Morrison looked at the tablet for a moment before he rubbed his right temple sighing *Strange I don't usually get eye strain headaches this quick.* He thought to himself before putting down the tablet listening to the questions the others had "The big question is how did they know where they were meeting?" He asked as he took a sip of water still rubbing his temple as the pain became a dull almost unnoticeable constant now "And that just brings up the question of did they know they were working for an Inquisitor or did they think something else?" He added as each question seemed to add another one to the mix.

After pausing for seconds that seem to stretch into weeks Leopold answered thoughtfully.
"Excellent questions my friends."
Fist he bowed his head to Zethina.
"The explosion was likely caused by a rocked propelled grenade or high velocity rounds but I am unsure at this point. This is something you should investigate when you land in a relatively close stack." Then he bowed his head toward Morrigan. "A trusted contact named Sparrow will be waiting for you who will lead you to a safe house. And finally," he bowed his head toward Morrison. "Some of the questions you asked will be your task to investigate my friend. But the operatives did know they were working for me. I briefed them in a ... very similar room to this. I assess the malicious group they were assigned to track somehow managed to track them down. But your task is the following: Investigate the crime scene. Most of the lander should still be intact. Interview the locals if you feel that would add to the intelligence. Then... his eyes turned cold and he grimly added "track down and kill the ones responsible. Sparrow should help with your needs should something be required. If no further questions a lander awaits you."

With no other question asked, Leopold bows curtly to you all and after saying "You have your orders" he leaves.

You board your flyer - an ornate matte grey VTOL that perches below the zeppelin - you are ferried down to the surface. The journey takes 30 minutes during which you can familiarize yourself with the information contained in the data slate or ponder upon the brief Leopold gave. You can also pray to the God Emperor for salvation.

You land without problems in an unfamiliar stack.  It is a semi-disused landing pad in the lower stack level which sees less air traffic nowadays and which is dominated by huge cargo eights carrying raw materials and finished weapons within and offhive. Outside the landing pad you see the huge crowds of the hive city. Workgangs go to and forth to their fanes and quite a few local Magistratum patrols are out in the open scanning for illegal activity. Aside from a figure who sits on an empty prometheum drum the landing pad is empty.

Stepping off the VTOL Morrigan double checks the sword, knife and las-pistol are in place before taking out her scalptaker and heading towards the man on the promethium cans and says "Identify yourself."

Morrison had hopped off the VTOL and turned back to gather his supplies only to turn to see Morrigan pulling out a weapon and approaching an unknown man. Morrison sprinted over to Morrigan getting up next to her "Listen I understand your on edge and former law, but it won't help to make a scene right after landing." He said as he reached up and took hold of her wrist gently "Unless your planning on killing him might want to take it slow an simple. Don't want him going to the local bar and talking about this crazy woman that got out of a unmarked ship that landed on an rarely used landing pad." He said as he looked at her smiling his head starting to bother him again.