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1107 Day 2

"Alright." Marco shrugged, wandered across the street and back into the bar. Looking around, he located the psyker and walked up to him.

"Trask?"

Tyyr wrote:1053

Phebia spat as she stood up. Octavian could see her flail already in her far hand ready to work. "I'm fine. Whether you intended to or not you saved that scum's life."

1053

Octavian chuckled a bit and reentered that had left. "Cease my meddling in protecting the fairer sex from the abominable reproach of road agents and vagabonds that dwell in this shit hole of a city?" He thought about the idea in his head for awhile.

"Everything okay Guardsman?" Someone asked inside the store."

"Yes, everything is fucking okay. Nothing but a shit hole town with piss for liquor, ungrateful cunts, and eavesdroppers who don't have the fucking ability to mind their damn business. Beyond that everything is perfectly amicable and delightful in merry fucking... what shit hole is this?"

"The town is Port Suffering."

"Fuck me. So someone, Emperor knows who, named this shit hole after my state of mind." Octavian continued, "Where's your seediest of establishments?"

"The farms..."

Octavian slapped the man quickly across the face, "Shut your fucking yapper. The only thing I want to hear from you next is where the toughest bar in town is. And I don't give a fuck that it is only 1100 in the fucking morning. I had a long odyssey of a trip in coming here and I am short on temper and long on rage. So now, answer the fucking question or I'll turn your throat into a c**t with my knife."

1106

"But if we go in prepared for a fight and they aren't it will be very quick and very one sided."

1107, Day Two

"Trask?" asked the adept.

Milo had been just inside the door, fidgeting with his empty glass and continuing to keep an eye on the Mechanicus. "I heard," he answered Karibi. Stepping out into the heat haze of the street, he asked, "Does anyone else need to pick anything up from the smithy?" While waiting for an answer, he retrieved his staff from Pahr, who handled it reverently. Trask laughed - good-naturedly, for the first time in years - and said, "Thank you, my friend. It's not a holy relic, you know. Just a staff, and the symbol is just a symbol."

Looking around and squinting his eyes against the harsh sunlight, he commented almost absently, "I think our lines of questioning have run out around here. There's precious little info to be gained, and further questions will invite more questions about us. Perhaps it's time to move the investigation elsewhere. The native cultists seem to be held in low regard by the crews, but their violence seems to have been reserved specifically for us."

1108 Day 2

"That seems to settle it, then." Marco said, nodding to himself. "Someone directed them to attack us specificaly. And someone knew which way we'd be going. In any case, we should decide what to do next. Do we wait for the cultists to come out and then shadow them, storm the bar and interrogate them, or just leave them and go elsewhere?"

1108

Phebia chewed her bottom lip before replying. "We should follow them."

Haxta regarded Marco for a second, before answering. " What if we stormed in there and interrogated them, and then followed them? Either let some of them flee the fight if they will, or let one or more of them go afterwards and see where they head? After having us rough them up, their first impulse is likely to be to rush to their masters to report."

1108

"Though there is a certain attraction to doing it the priestess' way," Phebia replied with a grin.

Enrick cracked his knuckles, stretched his fingers and joints. "We should strike in two ways. One group kill a number of the enemy. The other group follow the survivors to their homes or base."

1109 Day Two:

As your party continues to debate it's course of action, the cultists make their way out of the bar and head in the general direction of the locals hab block. You can see that they are far older then they appeared in the bar and one of them is a truly massive man, his features largely hidden by the assortment of rags and clothes he has on. They continue to drink as they leave, one carrying a large bottle and the large man a stone bottle of what is presumably the local brew.

11:09 - day two

Pahr nodded to the group before following the cultists into yet another crowd of filthy workers, paying particular attention to the especially large man in the lead. As they rounded the corner, Pahr began to memorize landmarks. He casually dodged through the crowd, his small frame allowing him to simply slide by most people; he sidestepped the ones he couldn't. Every time the cultists checked their six, he had his head down, and appeared to be writing on his data-slate.

In fact, he was drawing a crude map.

11:10 Day Two:

The next time Pahr looks down at his slate, the huge man, moving incredibly swiftly for his mass reverses his course and clubs him over the head with a heavy object from under his rags. The other cultists swiftly move in and drag him off into the crowd, accompanied by the large man. In a few seconds Pahr and his assailants are lost in the throng.

1109 Day 2

Phebia watched Pahr slip off into the crowd. "Bloody hell," she snarled. "So much for roughing them up first." She hopped off her crate and slung her rifle over her shoulder with it's grip in easy reach. "We should follow after. Hang back a good ways but not let them get too far off."

Enrick quickly nodded and followed Phebia. Thumbing his vox bead to contact the rest of the team. "Phebia and I are in pursuit of Pahr. We will keep this channel open and will await orders or reinforcements." Enrick readied his shotgun and laspistol while pulling his hood and trench coat over himself.

1109 Day 2

Karibi looked oddly at the soldier, looked around the street, then turned back.

"Uh...Enrick..." He said hesitantly. "We're all right next to you. You don't actualy need the vox to tell us that."