Interregna II

Scythius had left the Cathedral of Saint Abraam in Hadronia Prime with grim determination. He had recalled with some critical thinking a clue that could unravel this case unfolding before him, and he had the knowledge to confront the Ecclesiarchal powers in governance of Hadronia. If he was correct in his educated guess, he could potentially pull influence and - more importantly - the requisite forces to perform a field inquisition en mass. The Emperor-Touched Psyker had canvased the city with his psychic senses, scrying those he passed and those he watched from afar by drawing the empyric senses he had been blessed with from the moment of his birth. Through the witch-sight, and a little over an hour, he had come to a stark realization that belittled the severity of his concern; Few were touched by the 'spirits' that he had encountered earlier in the night. Out of the teeming hundreds, he had counted no more than a few dozen possessed individuals. This infestation was insidious, and those who showed the unholy taint acted completely their parts. Thus armed with this knowledge, he had gone on alone, knowing that in this task he was both best suited out of the rabble he had grown to trust as his 'team', as well as knowing he could move unhindered by their more eclectic excesses alone. They were well-trained, professional killers or scholars, but a rabble they were nonetheless, and not the sort one would bring as an escort to the Ecclesiarchal Shrine-Palaces of the Cardinal and his Synod Court. Scythius stood outside the gates of the Sabiran Temple, the large-estate that would lead to the Cardinal's chambers of prominence. A throne of hooded attendants were in deep reverence, acknowledging his presence with courteous nods as they moved about the grounds. Only the two Crusaders who stood vigil to the gate itself were unapproachable. Their decorative armor was polished steel - much like their unflinching expressions. When the acolyte moved closer, they had lowered the ornate spears in their possession to bar his way. "Admittance is not permitted on this night, pilgrim," one had said abruptly, his voice rough and experienced.

"Although I would cherish a chance to walk the holy paths of the pilgrim again, that is not my purpose here honourable guardian," a determined expression, strong stance and fluently formal High Gothic would meet the Crusader's own presence. These were agents of the Ecclesiarchy, their duties were to be as respected as any cleric or preacher's but even so Scythius needed to press onward. "I bring news that may effect a portion of the sector, including our fair Hadronia. I must speak with the Grandmaster of the Ordo Secretum Ecclesiae, sanctae Mandragora Ecclesiae Cardinalis , in correspondance with the dictates of the Mandragora Curia, with escort if necessary." He did not wish to provoke any unwanted attention through the revealing of Writs and titles, especially with his duty to the Inquisition and that his allegiance is to remain secret. Either these Crusaders would see that he was no fool, or he would have to prove it to them.

There was only a few dozen minutes of hesitation on the crusaders part. While initially reserved and initially unwilling to acquiescence to Scythius' request, cooler heads prevailed after a brief communicae with what Scythius assumed was their superior. He soon found himself given an escort of two obsidian-clad crusaders whose shield robes and hoods who clearly outranked those attending the gates, the power mauls adorning their waists indicative of their status within the Shrine-Palace of the Hadronian Cardinal. Through the sweeping colonnades and pillars of reflection and atonement he was at last led into a central chamber. The crusaders mentioned along the way that this was known as the 'petitioners hall', where the Cardinal, attending bishops and vicars and other priests of the cloth would sit in judgement of both penitents and petitioners alike. In their hallowed judgement they would mette both judgements to the accused, as well as provide the alms of the church as they deemed fit and blessed by the Emperor's vision. The chamber itself was empty when he arrived, with lanterns lit hastily moments before his arrival. At the fore of the room was the council thrones, the central rising higher and adorned behind by the most prominent of glassworked windows. The Cardinal, in attendence with a staff of over three dozen functionaries, would arrive soon after Scythius was commanded to stand before the petitioners hall. The man himself was remarkably young in appearance - perhaps appearing no older than his fifties or sixties, with dull brown hair tied back. The work of juvenat, no doubt, but still a rather remarkable and rare sight in the Ecclesiarchy. Dressed in a simple cossack and with the crux ecclesiae adorning his breast, the man sat upon his throne of judgement, his face betraying no emotion. "You bring news of great import, as I am lead to believe?" The Cardinal Melchior inquired at last, motioning with his hand for Scythius to take a knee before him.

With or without the Cardinal's motions, Scythius would've taken a knee before the most esteemed Ecclesiarchal leader on the planet, what kind of barbarian or self-prideful radical wouldn't? The firm grip on his staff lessened as the Psyker brought himself to the most vulnerable position, showing in equal measures respect and admiration for the pure figure above himself. "Most holy Grandmaster of the Ordo Secretum Ecclesiae, Sanctae Mandragora Ecclesiae Cardinalis, there are those who believe there is an intrusion upon the Emperor's lands on this most holy day of mouring and celebration, I fear that an enemy of unknown origin has attempted to worm it's way into the blessed society of our sanctified Hadronia." Taking great care not to offend the Ecclesiarchal court with his tone, Scythius's voice was nonetheless strong and determined in it's path, his experiences upon Gael Secondus and Terra itself removing any need or trace of tentativeness.

<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WNL414FrZT0" rel="nofollow">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WNL414FrZT0</a> Cardinal Melchior listened intently, hesitating to respond as the words of Scythius lingered in his thoughts. He stirred after what seemed like a drawn out eternity. "I fear you may be correct in your claim, psyker of the Inquisition," Melchior said with a haunting voice devoid of emotion. Scythius shifted his weight, feeling a pit growing in his stomach. The Hadronian council of the Mandragoran Curia seemed to shift without moving. Scythius could see their eyes...their green eyes peering at him with a cold, detached disdain. "I fear a great many things. The congregation has been called, and I fear that the adjoinment has drawn unnecessary attention. I fear that you bring with you the fiery hand that ends worlds. I fear that you are a harbinger of death that would bring death and ruination to my kind," The Cardinal said, even as the Crusaders that had escorted the psyker began to shift their weapons into a readied state. "But perhaps, I fear, that we may need of your services. We have need...of one of your kind," Melchior said, positioning a halt hostilities. "Will you, son of man, parlay?"

Scythius, finally realizing his fears coming to fruition, rose from his position. This pale imitation of a great man would not receive the same respect from him. Were the Psyker filled with anything but anger, he may have shed a tear at the true tragedy of this situation. "Here you stand, possessing of a man who was far greater than you could be, claiming that you require help from I." The staff, now returned to a ferocious grip, struck the ground in defiance but not threat. "I know what you do to the men and women you take into your folds. Perhaps your subordinate had already told you of it's verminous attempts." He did not know if these things were corrupted by Chaos, or simply another weak, cowardly race of Xenos that preyed upon the Imperium as a parasite. "Kill one such as me upon a Cardinal World during the festivities Sanguinala, and others will bathe you in the fire you so rightly fear, no amount of covert bribery or dark whispers will keep the Inquisition from suspecting, from knowing, from acting.. Attempt to take my mind once again, and I shall do the deed myself. So you tell me, Xeno. Why shouldn't I lay into motion your ends now?"

"You mistake us for your own weak flesh," Melchior said defiantly in response. "You stand there because we allow it. Because we do not fear." One of the lesser clergymen, or at least the parasite that possessed the body, spoke then breaking the rising tension. "The Metarch is in danger," he said, and a collective expression graced the faces of the council. The Cardinal paused, leaning into his hand as he seemed to lose himself in endless thought. "Our Metarch," He began, but paused to correct himself. "Our Oracle is in peril. We require a conduit to exercise the neverborn that traps our Oracle in her weak...vessel. The gathering of our kind has commenced to bring many who have tried...and failed...in freeing our beloved guiding light. Your arrival here has been both a fortuitous boon as well as a razor's edge to destruction. Free our Oracle, free your world from the families that have gathered here on Hadronia. That is our deal. So you tell me , Human. Shall we make use of you or shall we move to destroy you now?"

"Ah, but then there's the glaring problem of trust isn't there?" Resisting the urge to scoff at their ridiculous proposal, Scythius calmed himself to a state where rationality was in control, though zeal still spat forth from his mind with every word and gesture. "The moment I leave this place, there's no telling what I'll do, you can't truly trust me to keep my word with Xenos." The litanies and prayers to Him was now at the forefront of his mind, here he was with a no small chance of losing his life, at least his soul would find salvation with the Emperor should that come to pass. "Unless of course, you ensure I do as you wish through possession or your other insidious means. I am in no position to accept a bargain where I come out the puppet, less it be used against me without any ability to stop it." Psykana Mercy Blade now instinctively clutched in one hand and staff in the other, the great white robes of the Psyker Cleric threw themselves to the side with one simple question. "So, what do you intend to do!? Place your trust in me!? Surrender to the fires of the Inquisition!? Try your luck with possessing a mind of an aggressively defensive calibre most of you have never experienced the likes of, all before it ends itself!?"

He senses were sharpened by his fear of betrayal, and it came as no surprise when the Crusaders behind him attempted to bludgeon him with their de-activated Power Mauls. The bastard xenos had attempted to simply knock him out! The perfidy of these abominates knew no bounds, and even as Scythius spun his staff to deflect the weapon away as his mercy blade unleashed blood from the now vivisected throat of the crusader, he knew whatever happened now was in the Emperor's hands. "Stop him!" Melchior shrieked from his alter, as the other crusader raised his weapon to strike a clean blow. Then the lanterns suddenly blew out, casting the room in darkness. Scythius brooked no moment of hesitation, utilizing his witch-sight to move unhindered in the darkness, plunging his blade into the throat of Crusader who stood in a state of confusion. As the Crusaders body fell upon the floor with an audible 'thud', the council suddenly shrieked with an unearthly, unnatural cacophony of xenos-tainted pain. " Scythius ," The voice called out, from the mouths of the limpened forms of the council who now lay paralyzed in their chairs, their eyes rolling back in the depths of their skulls. "The bindings are undone! Your master's deal is done!" And then their was light, the daemonic voice lingering no more as the light faded, and the council began to stir once more.

Scythius awoke some time later. His heart was racing, the darkness of the pit inciting a primal fear that existed within him. He calmed himself with an internal litany that rang joyously through his mind as he incited the incantations of the saint Sebastian Thor. His heart stilled, and he recalled with trepidity the last memories before he had been rendered unconscious. The voice , he recalled, had sent a shiver down the very core of his soul. He stood frozen in terror, his mind unable to cope with the warpborne malaise that fell over him. Paralyzed as he was, he had been easily subdued by crusader-savants that had been alerted by the shrieking, untainted humans who simply misinterpreted the events as an attack on the council. And now he found himself chained to a penitents block. The heavy adamantium manacles tugged as he tried to adjust himself. There was another. "Don't waste your energy," a familiar voice whispered. "Save your strength, brother. We lie in a viper's nest," the voice of Solomon Praetus urged the psyker. His vision was adjusting to the scant light that escaped into their cell. His cell. " They have plans for you," Solomon said ominously.