| abstract
| - The Raven’s Lament Prologue Martina Traschelmann was a terrifying assassin. There was no doubt in her handler’s mind of that fact as he attentively watched through his charges eyes. Governess Doerevigger had failed in her duties to the Imperium. Her first failure had come in the shape of denying the black ships their due of the psychically gifted. All planet’s with a populace of psychically gifted individuals was expected to offer up a number of them to the inquisition for the greater need of the Imperium of man. Her failures did not stop there however; a list that no one holo slate could ever hope to hold. Her transgressions had been overlooked due to her planets continued supply of several wars in the greater galaxy. However now she openly tried to convert her planet’s populace to the worship of the ancient enemies of man. Even now, she worked toward this end as she held the major families of her planet captive as she spewed lies to the whole planet tempting them with promises of power and pleasure. In the great courtyard before her now the nobles silently listened to her lies; too concerned for their own lives to act. Martina ignored the traitor’s words as she set about her work silently killing the last of her 'Elite' guard. Her lithe body dangled from one of the many pipes on the ceiling; her legs wrapped around the pipe in an impossible way. The polymorphine coursing through her veins allowing her to do this impossible feat. She pulled the guard up to her and hid his body on top of the very pipe she dangled from along with the other 4 guard's bodies. Rechtshandler carefully keyed the vox link, warning his charge of his impending contact. Martina slowly dropped to the marble floor, cat like in her landing. She noted her handler’s call, but decided she had more pressing concerns to deal with first. Focusing her mind she began to shape her body into that of the beautiful giant of a man from legend. Standing seven feet tall with golden flowing hair and wings of purest white she now stood in the guise of a Primarch. This wasn’t the first time she’d assumed the form of a Primarch for the purposes of an assassination. In fact, it was one of her trademarks methods. The symbolism in the act of one of the god Emperor's own sons enacting divine punishment upon his enemies both terrified the imperium's enemies and emboldened their allies. She activated the power cell on her back now and allowed it to cloth her in the golden armour of Sanguinius, the blade she carried to morphed into the flaming blade of the Primarch. She approached the ranting governess from behind blade readied. The new face she wore showed nothing but contempt for the heretic. When she was right behind her target she let out a mighty yell. Both the crowd and her target turned to her with an amazement of shock, awe, and terror. Quickly she took her blade and ran the governess through as she let out yet another mighty war cry. “For the God Emperor!” boomed the disguised assassin in a commanding voice as she completely impaled the heretical leader. With a ferocious kick she pushed the now dead governess off of her blade and over the balcony, from which she had been preaching from, onto the ground below. The crowd let out a collective cheer of victory as the Chaos Prophet’s body crumpled as it hit the ground with a sickening thud. Shots began to ring out from the chaos cultists that had held the crowd hostage as Martina turned away from the emboldened crowd. The once frightened populace had began to fight back for their freedom from the Emperor’s enemies. Finally accepting her handlers call whilst she slowly, and painfully, forced herself back into her original form; she Walked out of the room and closed the door behind her. This simple act causing the delicately placed bodies to fall from their hiding place to the ground with a loud sickening thud. “What is it Rechtshandler?” she asked briskly in Low Gothic, an accent left over from a past persona lacing her voice. “I was going to suggest that you wait on the kill so I could position the cruiser above for some thematic bonuses, but obviously you got the job done.” “Of course,” She said as she slipped into the shadow of a nearby door way as the sound of fighting began to fill the hallway beyond. She quickly peeked out her hear to see what was happening in the corridor beyond. At the end of the hall she saw several chaos militia men trying to fight back the giant mob of angry noble men and women now free of their captor. She judged it safe to move along despite the fighting. She quietly slipped past the chaotic corridor sneaking past it and into the next. “You remember the rendezvous spot right?” asked her handler snarkly as she sprinted down the stone corridor. “I’m no new recruit,” Martina replied annoyed as she passed a defaced statue of a Imperial saint, “when will you let it go that I forgot on my first mission the rendezvous?” “When you apologize,” he replied, the smirk on his face evident through the vox link even with the static present. “I told you..,” said Martina making use of the sub vocal capability of the vox link as she wrapped her hand around the mouth of an unsuspecting guardsmen and slitting his throat. Any cries he attempted to make were lost in her hand as he died. Judging by his attire and look he was one of the few remaining survivors of the loyalist forces. Shame he was in the way of her exit. Martina made sure to get a good look at his face and body type before she kicked him out a nearby window. The glass shattered as his body collided with it breaking through it and sending him toppling out. Picking up the man’s dropped las-rifle and battery pack she looked out the window and was pleased to see that the street the window oversaw was deserted. Forcing herself to assume the shape of the man she'd just killed she judged the distance between this building and the next. “I got hit really hard on the head,” she said vocalizing the 2nd part of her argument before vaulting over the window ledge and twisting in midair to grab the ledge below. “Not what the mission data says,” said her handler as he chuckled. Martina rolled her eyes before she put her feet solidly against the building, and pushing off of it and sending herself flying across the street into the next building. Summersaulting through the air she dove through an open window in the adjacent building landing in a roll before vaulting up. “What was the point of becoming that guards man if you’re going to Fragin fly through the sky like and emperor damn bird?” Rechtshandler asked as she calmly walked out of the small apartment she’d landed in, and closed the door behind her. Swiftly she walked down the hallway and into the stairwell, where she was suddenly assaulted by a hidden chaos sympathizer. His body already bore the signs of the dark gods, carved very crudely into his own flesh. “This is why,” She said as she clubbed the man with the butt of the las-rifle , “So if anyone sees me they don’t even really know I’m here.” The rifle butt struck the man cleanly in his temple and sent him tumbling head first down the stairwell. she heard several sickening thuds and snaps as he fell down the stairs like a rag doll. Running down the stairs and passing the already cooling body where it landed. Exiting the stairwell as it came to a divergence she turned left heading toward the door that took her deeper into the housing blocks. She half ran, half walked, down the hallways until she came to a severely dilapidated door, barely held in place by its rusted hinges. “Can’t pick up zones ever be more… I don’t know? Luxurious?” she asked sarcastically as she pushed the door open gingerly almost afraid the door would breakaway in her hands. “Yeah; next time I’ll requisition a golden thunderhawk,” said Rechtshandler laughing. Martina’s lenses auto adjusted to the sudden darkness of the room, showing her the atrocious conditions within. Rodent feces covered the floor and the dead body of a homeless man, who’d probably come here in his last days to die, lay in the corner filthy and diseased. Closing the door behind herself and going to the center of the room she looked on the tiled floor for the different Imperial Aquila that should be hidden in the design. Finally finding the one she was looking for she stopped activated her phase blade; then in one swift almost mechanical motion she cut the symbol in half. For a moment nothing seemed happened, but then the loud clanging of old machinery clanking into action was suddenly heard as the floor began to open into a small hole. Turning back to the room and pulling from one of the pouches that were strapped to her thigh a hellfire grenade. Setting the timer on the grenade with her thumb and then pulling pin she dropped it into the room before turning back to the now manhole sized hole in the ground and dropping down into it. The homeless man stirred from his drug induced sleep and sat up groggily. The usual smell of piss and shit welcomed him back into the realm of the living, but something seemed off. He couldn’t place it at first, but soon he realized it was the soft ticking of something nearby. He went to it feeling around on the ground for whatever it was.. Finally his hand clasped the cylindrical object. He held it up to his face in the dark room to try and examine it, he realized to late what it was. Ts the grenade exploded in his hand it dispersing with enough force to rupture tank armour, dispersing a highly volatile wave of promethium. The homeless man, to his credit, he did not die instantly as the building around him was lit ablaze. --- Officrum Assassinorum Ship, the Silent Blade Martina had completed her mission and, having filled out all stipulations of her mission, had been granted leave to use 15 minutes’ worth of hot water to clean herself with. Happily, she scrubbed the filth of the mission from her body. One thing that her order had emphasized above all else was the care of self after and before every mission; to always challenge the mind when they could and to keep their wits about them. Of late she'd been even more adherent to this belief after the debacle that had seen her inactive for some time. Thinking back to the lost time, as she called it, she remembered her sustained operation as a young teenage girl. Living with a family who's daughter had long ago died but through cunning manipulation and her own skills they had been fooled into believing that their child had returned. The operation had seen her living for years as a hive girl. The personality she had adopted had been so much stronger than her own; with its raw emotions and raging hormones that before a year and a half terran time had passed she was losing herself in the persona she played. She tried to draw up memories from the time but couldn't recall any. They'd spent 50 years reprogramming her while so she'd been in cryo stasis to make sure she'd be able return to normal, and even still emotions and habits from the past persona had stayed with in her.She'd learned to cover them well enough that they had allowed her back into the field but still it worried her. Transformation for more than a month at a time was impossible for her now; a side effect of the strength of the polymorphine is what they told her. It irked her to no end but she'd learned to cope with it. Still the level of the missions they had been sending her on had been a vexingly easy. In fact all of her recent missions been almost to easy. As a Noviate each new mission had presented a new type of excitement, a new challenge, now they went just as planned. A credit to both her handler’s skill and her own; however this isn't what she sought now. She wanted a rush, a challenge. She sought a mission that would make her one of the greatest assassins of the Imperium and push her beyond her limits. She kept this vain thinking to herself however judging it to be a piece of the past persona. She usually was able to shrug the feeling off, but deep down she knew it was her own desire that it stayed. She knew she needed to be careful with such desires for they could lead to her down fall. Last time a Callidus had such notions she had betrayed the order and gone rougue; killing her handler and several officers. Turning off the now cold water and walked out of the shower into the corridor nude. She shook herself dry before she turned and started to slowly walk down the hall way. The ship was mostly crewed by servitors and what few crew member weren’t servitors were indentured servant that had willingly agreed to be blinded in return for several years, or in some cases centuries, off of their due time, besides even if someone had been watching she had nothing to be ashamed of. Her body was perfection incarnate, as she continued down the hallway she passed several whirling servitor doing the menial tasks set to them. Each of her steps was slow and deliberate allowing her to enjoy the cold adamantium hull beneath her feet, she'd never knew why but from a time long before her indoctrination she could recall she had always found the cold floor relaxing. Finally arriving at her quarters she entered the access code and waited patiently as several mechanical locks undid themselves and the automatic door opened. Entering her room, she breathed in the the calming centering incense that was consistently pumped out of the censers on the ceiling. Looking around one would find that the room was barren except for a few books allowed to her for entertainment between missions, a thin bunk with paper thin sheets, and the clothes place on it. Her life was not one of luxury and pleasure, but one of a servant of the emperor's. Going to her bed she picked up the robes left there for her and dressed herself in the simple garment. Disregarding the nearby boots she turned to the center of the room and walked into the center of the room so she was underneath one of the censors. Sitting down in the way taught to her in the temple she entered a deep meditative state where she could once again center herself. Polymorphine was a strong drug and if a Callidus assassin didn’t maintain a constant physical and mental perfection it could eventually devour them mentally and physically. She didn’t know how long she’d been in her meditative state, but she when she finally began to return to her awakened state she had several tubes and filters being removed from her body by several servitor. The tubes and filters purpose to remove the extra polymorphine that resided within her body. As she became more and more aware she realized that in front of her sat a stack of papers that hadn't been there before. Traditionally, assassins had their missions uploaded directly into their mind, removing the need for any sensitive records. Rechtshandler, however, often broke this rule when she wasn’t going to be put under cryo in between the wait for new missions. He knew she had a strange fondness for paper and ink. Picking up the stack of papers she began to read the brief, slowly a smile began to tug at the corner of her mouth. This next mission might just be the type of challenge that would make her a legend. --- Archinage, an exodite world, out in the far reaches of the western fringes of the Imperium of man, found itself under Eldar attack a number of years ago. To combat this threat several Imperial regiments of armour and men were sent to crush the Eldar threat. The Imperial forces were sorely outmatched by the Eldar’s superior mobility and weaponry; coupled with their command structure’s complete collapse they found their efforts wanting and soon the campaign was in all but ruins. Their plea’s for reinforcement weren’t received by the Imperium until several months ago. To aid in the fight the Raven Guard 5th company was dispatched to deal with the threat. The 5th company arrived to see the guardsmen fighting desperately on the ground for the last held city on the planet's surface. Quickly reacting to the situation the 5th company launched their fighters and bombers to enact a devastating strategy of hit and run attacks that saw great success. This forced the Eldar to retreat for a time in space while they regathered their forces. The 5th company while instrumenting this strategy in space took the battle to the Eldar on the ground. Launching a devastating orbital bombardment upon the enemies forces while they launched drop pods on into the remnants of the enemy. This single assault turned the tide of battle into the favor of the Imperium. The 5th company once again proved their worth in the early days of the engagement with several more devastating assaults that forced the Eldar to a full-scale retreat. When other Imperial forces began their pursuit of the broken enemy they were quickly stopped by the Raven Guards 5th company. This is not the first time this has happened; in fact this has become a common occurrence that it cannot be over looked any longer. The Imperium of Man has no room for pity. To this end Callidus assassin Z-13-A “Martina” is to be dispatched to investigate the 5th company. She is to determine whether the 5th company should be exterminated, and to take the required steps to that end. Z-13-A is to infiltrate the Company’s battle barge as a serf of the 5th company. Due to Z-13-A’s inability for long term Polymorphine change since the Gratilius planet incident she is to go in untransformed and unarmed. Equipment will be hidden on board through a third party operative. We’d have rather dispersed H-56-b “Hammer” however due to his current mission's sensitivity and Z-13-A’s proximity we have deemed her the best option. This investigation is expected to take some time. See people of note in the following pages. Finishing the mission briefing and throwing it aside she couldn’t help but jump up excitedly like a child who'd just received a present, a smile curling her thin lips. This could be it, the challenge she’d been wanting; been looking for. She walked back and forth from wall to wall on in her room in a matter of a few steps adrenaline already coursing through her veins. Martina sat in the passenger compartment of the shuttle in the simple dirty robes that constituted her disguise. Her long dark brown hair had been cut to an Adeptus Militarum regulation length. Her dark green eyes had been augmented on the way in so they were now a light brown. This had been done this so many times now that she no longer remembered what her original eye color. Around her sat several other serfs on their way to the 5th company’s ship. There were about 15 or so in total; all varying in age from adolescence to mid to late 50 Teran years. They’d been on the shuttle for several hours now since leaving the space port and exiting the atmosphere. Waiting was often part of the job, but it didn’t mean Martina had to like it. It however gave her time to review mission details in her head and people of note. Finally she felt the lurch of landing gear touching down on the ships deck.There was a moment of silence while the ships engines were slowed and halted. The rear hatch finally opened and the gloom of the hanger beyond allowed them to see what lay beyond barely. Hesitantly the serfs disgorged into the gloom of the hangar bay where several servitors and tech marines were hard at work with maintenance on several thunder hawk gunships. Their soft chants of benedictions to the machines both mystifying and enchanting to those who'd never seen it before. The incense spewing from the censors hanging from their waists giving a think feeling to the air in the hanger. The serfs looked around, amazed at the scale of the ship’s landing bay terrified by the sheer size. All around them machines whirled and ancient pillars inlaid with prayers and statues of past hero's. Pretending to be scared as well with the other serf's. Martina took advantage of her portrayed fear to take in her surroundings covertly. She looked for and mentally noted anything that might help her should the time come to escape, or in the worst case scenario to destroy the ship. She turned her attention to the giant of a man that approached them. His heavy footsteps echoing through the vast hall. Immediately what little chatter there had been in the group of serfs stopped. The marine was fully clad in power armour, specifically the raven guards signature mark VI armour. She was unable to tell his rank based upon markings on his armour or medals he displayed. She guessed this meant he was no one of importance. “You were all told before the shuttle departed where you were expected to report to by Orphius correct?” said the Marine. The helm gave his voice a clipped metallic tone, the other serf’s stared at the marine in abject terror unable to reply. She tried to display the same fear, but she found it hard to. She’d dealt with more Astartes than she could count in her time as an Assassin, and they weren’t something she feared . “I was not told,” she said raising her hand. The marine looked at her calmly. His expression unreadable through the power armour’s helm, there was no change in posture or weight dispersion when she spoke. This rendered him unreadable to her . The marine looked at the now exiting shuttle pilot. The pilot turned to the marine and words passed between them. Martina surmised they were using the sub-vocal channels in their armour to communicate without the serfs being able to hear. After several moments of communication in this way the marine turned from the shuttle pilot and spoke to them again. “Those of you who know your duty will be shown to your posts by serf Orepheus,” said the marine gesturing to the pilot who was finishing the shutdown rites for the shuttle that had carried them here. The serfs, like lost lambs, went to the now waiting pilot and left. Orphius left with the other serfs and she and the first marine were left alone. She could tell he was examining her thoroughly through his lenses. “What were you before you came here?” he asked. “I was a swordsmith,” she said sticking to the story Rechtshandler had given her. It explained both her muscular build and her callused hand. “What’s brought you here?” asked the marine changing the dialect he was using. “I-,” she began catching herself. But the marine knew she had understood. He began to walk around her his eyes, even through his helm, boring into her. Finally after walking around her once he spoke to her again. Her heart began to pound and the adrenaline began to pump, and she quietly cursed he lose of control. She knew these were all signs that the Astartes could hear with their enhanced hearing should they choose. She’d need the adrenaline coursing through her if he tried to attack her. The ship was large enough she could escape into it and hide for a time while she hunted down proof of their betrayal. “In the end it matters not where you are from," he began. "All that matters is how you handle your duties from now on,” he said reverting back to the common dialect of the imperium. The marine turned from her and began to walk away. “You still haven’t told me what that is,” she called out to his back. The marine stopped and looked at the tech marine. The tech marine perked up and looked at the unmarked marine and then at her. The tech marine nodded and then went back to work. The unmarked marine went back to walking away from her. She was about to call out after him again to tell him he still hadn’t told her when a whirling servitor approached her a mop and bucket in hand. She sighed.
|
![[RDF Data]](/fct/images/sw-rdf-blue.png)