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1057, Day Two - Trask looked dubiously at the noissome drink in front of the adept, then tossed two thrones - far more than the cost of the drinks - on the bar before answering the publican. "Irregulars, assigned as staff for the enginseer," he said, indicating Haxta. "Our oh-so-wise commanders sent us here to ship out on a tramp full of pollen," Trask explained with an unaffected air of disdain for CO's. He took a belt from his glass and went on, "The natives sure seem backward enough. Anything going on from offworld?"

1057 Day Two:

The bartender, Wernherus by his name tag pockets the thrones with a grateful nod before replying, "Not much, some noise about the new cathedral naturally but alls quiet here, more or less. Save from a few incidents with the locals. Heard a bunch got shot up earlier today in fact."

" Do such incidents happen often around here?" Haxta inquired.

1057 Day 2

Karibi stopped inspecting his drink, having decided he wasn't going near the concoction.

"Something up with the cathedral?" He asked, doing his best to sound vaguely interested. "What's going on with it?"

1057 Day 2:

Wernherus shrugs, "Depends, most just want the Imperium gone but don't do nothin' about it. Some pick blues with off-worlders for kicks, others want ta sit around all day and smoke pollen. Can't say as I blame them, bonzer stuff that." He gives you a crooked grin and continues, "Most, like that lot over there are nice enough and pay their tab on time. Others like ta beg me favour till they luck into work."

Glancing over at Karbi he continues, "I don't pay much attention, mind but all the usual stuff. Strange noises, bleedin' art, the whole nine yards I hear. Heard it happened over on Fenksworld a couple years back."

1057 Day 2

"Huh, odd." Marco commented, picking up his glass. "They figure out what was doing it on Fenksworld? Just some kids screwing around, I suppose?"

1057 Day Two:

"Hmm...I recall it was a scam of some sort. The church officials wanted a special kind of stone for the construction and never got it. I reckon they used some folks on the frin'e of the population ta sabotage thin's ta get it rebuilt with a kind that was supposed to be "inert", whatever that means."

Wernherus reaches down under his bar and comes up with a damp rag, starting to mop up some imaginary dust. "You guys sure ask a lot of questions, most I get are all ta rapt ta stare into their glass." He laughs, "Not often I get ta exercise the pipes."

1058, Day Two - "Heh!" Trask snorted. "We're looking at a day on this rock, a week in a hold, and a tour of babysitting cog-girl. We'll listen to anything interesting you have to say."

10:58 - day two

The man's faded blue eyes darted back and forth. In the darkened circle of the scope, Pahr could see the sweat on his brow, and the faded ganger tattoo on his neck. Pahr's finger slowly tightened on the trigger as he exhaled, ready to fire.

The man turned, scooping a street vendor's coin purse into his pocket as he slowly walked away, and blended into the crowd. He was lost within seconds to the quicksilver of shimmering heat rising from the hard packed dirt alley. Pahr grimaced, releasing the pressure on the trigger, and moving his index finger back to a safe position.

He grunted, " Clear..." whispering to no one in particular, as he slowly crawled backwards, relocating to cover the other group.

1059 Day 2

"That's pretty much it." Marco nodded at Trask's explaination. "Damn-all to do on board a ship. Even the most minor bits of news are nice to hear." Karibi glanced over at the patrons with the painted faces, then turned back to the bartender and spoke quietly. "Say, who are the guys with the face paint? I've seen a few of them around already."

"Their traditionalists, want ta bloody bloody go back ta the old days, before we got here. Those at the table are a bonzer lot, just in it cause mom and dad made them. Some of them want to go back to fightin', screwin' and smoking, same thing the Emperor fearing lot do but they want to do it without us I guess."

Wernherus pours himself a glass of the same brew he offered the Adept and takes a quaff, "bonzer stuff, that."

"Those lot at the table do a bit of odd yakka for me now and again. Not much money around here and they tend ta lead poor lives. Should chat them up if yoos want ta know more about their faith, I don't pay much attention ta it all, interfers with first and second lunch, yoos see."

As he finishes, another patron down the bar hollers his name and he jumps off to tend to him, a quick "Hold on a bit" to you is his only comment.

1100 Day 2

Marco nodded at the bartender as he moved off. Once he was out of earshot, the Adept turned to Trask. "What do you think? Can you....sense anything from that lot?" He asked, indicating the face-painted locals with a slight jerk of his head.

1101

Phebia turned the page of her book, taking the time to scan the street again. She hated waiting. The sororitas were trained to act, immediately and decisively. While they didn't have solid proof the Seer orchestrated the attack on them she thought they had more than enough to implicate him as at least a cause of it. There was a certain attraction to her to march back to the Seer and question him, aggressively, about his role in what had happened. Even if he hadn't done it on purpose surely the questioning would reveal some strong leads.

Taking another deep breath and huffing she tried to clear her mind of such thoughts and relax. While the idea appealed to her she knew that the Inquisition was not a blunt object. Such action might open doors but it could just as easily close many more. The Inquisition was a scalpel, it was their job to locate the source of the problem. Phebia grinned coldly because once you found the root of the problem, that's when decisive action could be taken. Who knew, with a little luck the Seer might be involved and she'd have cause to reduce the psyker population of the Imperium by one.

1101, Day Two

"I'm not a telepath, if that's what you mean," Trask replied darkly. "We're not psychic servitors. However..." Trask closed his eyes and dipped his head for just a moment, then continued, "There's no trace of psyker activity or warp taint. Probably just followers, is all."

" Perhaps we should talk with them," Haxta suggested, indicating the crew of other off-worlders. " If they've had the same trouble we've had, then perhaps the attack on us wasn't anything more sinister then us being in the wrong place at the wrong time."