Ishmael is an Acolyte Arbitrator played by MagicHateBall that took part in Winson Paine's Candle in the Black campaign.
Background[edit | edit source]
Runoff water splashes against the curb as Ishmael guides his groundcar into the outskirts of Halidoria Secundus. Rank had it's privileges, they said, which is why he got a vehicle with sirens on it, which were currently burbling eagerly away, clearing the path ahead of him. But it also came with responsibility, which is why he'd been the one dragged out of bed when the beat troopers called in with a report of dead bodies found.
And he was just getting to sleep, too.
At about the same time the vox burbled in with a repetition of the crime scene's location, he pulled around the corner and into sight of the two patrol cars parked up at the curb, lights on. There were a pair of troopers waiting for him as he pulls up, and as he steps out, one says, "This way, sah. We got a call about something a maintenance crew had found, and... well, you'll see why we called it in a second."
The Arbites lead Ishmael into a dark alley, between a couple of tenement habs, the run-down apartment buildings that ringed the great Hive, cheap housing of the kind that was all too familiar to him. If he squinted, it'd be just like home -- or at least where he grew up. Down to dead bodies being found in the night, really.
Their path leads them into the alley, then down through a maintenance access to the underhive, the great system of sewers and power lines that ran under the entire city. Ishmael can hear water dripping and pooling underfoot, and the only light available has been reduced from inadequate street lighting to belt torches, beams playing against rockcrete walls up to a metal door, partially ajar, the light of more torches visible beyond through the crack. "They were going through this junction on a routine inspection," the older of the two Arbites says, as they came to the door, "and they stumbled across this."
The trooper pushes the door open, and as Ishmael points his torch into the room, the maintenance junction was thrown into stark relief.
It'd be better described as an abattoir now, though.
"At least, uh, four bodies here," Ishmael says, peering inside, almost hesitant to step inside, though there's already two troopers inside, flashlights lighting up a piece of the grisly tableaux at a time even as their faces turn greener and greener. "Though it's somewhat hard to tell, with how it's all strewn about..."
The beam of light shifts up onto the wall, and all of a sudden, Ishmael can feel the bile rising in his throat. There was writing on the walls, arcane sigils painted there in blood, and as the light moves across them, they seem to shift and change for a second before he looks away, pulling himself behind the door jam and trying to blink the afterimages away from behind his eyes. "Get those men out of there! Seal off this junction! And... and..."
If Ishmael had known what'd happen after he spoke his next words, he might have stopped there. But probably not, as they were simply what his duty commanded him to do.
"Get the precinct on the line. This is one for the Inquisition."
Party Impressions[edit | edit source]
Severa Imperatoria: My skin crawls every time she's nearby. If the Inquisitor didn't say she was necessary, I'd say she should be given the Emperor's Mercy. Perhaps it's unfair. Life's like that, which is why a pretty little girl is a psyker.
Titus Barrillo: There's an exception to every rule, and Titus is the exception to a lot of them. First time I laid eyes on him, I wouldn't have pegged him for a scribner instead of a sellsword, but life is a constant amazement. It takes all kinds, I suppose.
Demus Diometica: I'm no stranger to the Mechanicus. No one who's ever lived in a hive is, I imagine. I still don't like them much -- everything else breaks, why not the bits they like to put in their heads? -- but as long as he keeps to himself, I'm happy to leave him there.
Annalise Scolari: In another time and place, she'd be someone I'd be happy to put behind bars. Maybe I'm wrong about her, but sometimes when a lady is dressed to kill, that's a little more literal than I'd like. As it stands, there's not much I can do about it -- both of us are a little outside the regular strictures of the law now -- but I still don't want her to have my back.
Bruul Mivelson: Strong, upright, and a man as loyal to the Emperor as I've ever known. Maybe he's a little fast on the draw, but there aren't a whole lot of others I'd rather have at my back when things go sour.