Dark Heresy- Burn the Heretic

Shards of Memory 2

It was just darkness and flickering lights in the vast passenger section. My situation was much darker. I was strapped down to a hurtling torpedo with 400 other hopeless souls lost in space. What bloodbath we would be hurled into I didn’t know. But making it there was another matter. "I know you are angry at me. But if you let me see Dreah one last time. I will rededicate my life to you. I swear it,” I whispered to the aquila I hid under my rags. I wasn’t allowed to do this here. “Please Empero…-”
“Say that again?” an insane voice asked. I looked to the side and saw a grimy drug crazed pirate and the scorched barrel of a laspistol staring right back at me. I was scared but then I laughed because he didn’t realize he slid a poorly overcharged clip in. “What?”
“Shoot me.” I snarled back, still smiling. He pulled the trigger and the ear shattering explosion turned his hand to a bloody mess. He was even uglier than he started when I plunged my bolo knife through his mouth before he could scream.


The great clock fell, splitting apart in a confusing and spectacular way as an array of gears and levers shot away from it. They sat among the wreckage, surviving the destruction of the entity known as the “widower” and the dark plans of the “beloved”. The Pilgrims of Hayte had been dispersed, either by the efforts of the acolytes and bystanders, the widower or by the explosion of the great clock itself.

Moans drifted upwards from the wreckage as those with enough life in them got up and staggered away looking for help. Calista immediately went to work healing those that he could save. As the other acolytes surveyed the damage they noticed something, a face mumbling in the wreckage. Upon closer inspection they noticed something odder, the face was not attached to anything. The lips of the widower still moved and sound still issued forth, mostly muttering things that were incomprehensible to the acolytes but one phrase would find its way out of the gibberish every so often; “The traveler returns..”. Whether it was something about the way it was spoken or the fact that a face was still speaking while it had no vocal chords to form the sound one thing was for sure, this left the acolytes with a very unsettling feeling.
He opened his eyes and grasped the bridge of his nose, trying to stifle the headache that was beginning to form behind his eyes. Muttering to himself, Vownus Kaede surveyed the reports of one of his senior agents and tried to piece together to try to anticipate what was coming. The appearance of the Tyrant Star alone was enough to be troubling, but increased cult activity and the being known as the widower all made the report a proper mess. Knowing it was useless to try to puzzle out a pattern from so few details he gave up, instead looking at the reports of a strange signal in the lathe system.

Earmarking it for priority status he quickly typed out a quick message to his contact Pullar in the Lathe’s that he would look into it and dispatch a team to assist him in the matter. This new band of acolytes had shown promise in extraordinary circumstances, it was time to see if they could do with another unusual situation, for in the trials ahead weakness was something he could not tolerate.

Kaede’s eyes drifted to the words he had read so long ago, quietly reading them as if the parchment was right in front of him, dreaming of days when less of a burden rested on his shoulders.
“Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.”

He closed his eyes, opened them, and began his work.

Outwardly he seemed as motionless and impassive as the others around him, Inwardly he seethed. The destruction of the comet and any fragment bigger than a tonne where disintegrated as he watched from the bridge of one of the numerous Mechanicum ships that had heeded the call. Brutix Lor, one of the many heads of the Iron Brotherhood cursed himself for his burst of emotion, feeling dirty and human. He turned away from the destruction, walking towards the communicator arrays. Lor was patient, they had toiled for years to bring their plans to fruition only to have them dashed when they were discovered, calculating the odds in his head, trying to quickly determine the odds and deciding that they were astronomical he cleared the thought. The fact of the matter was whoever had discovered the signal and subsequently ruined the Brotherhood’s plans had done so in a spectacular fashion.

In doing so they would no doubt leave a trail of rewards and accolades from those who lacked the will to see and understand. A balance must be struck, and only through the deaths of those responsible would the balance be fulfilled. The day would come and soon where those responsible would be eliminated for their interference.

The Mechanicum fleet scourged the area for any trace of contamination from the warp tirelessly. Something very big had happened and it had done so close enough to the Lathe system that if had it succeeded it may have brought danger even to the might of the Lathes.

Kaede considered the new report in front of him. It seemed that this group of Acolytes found trouble as quickly as a rapid grox in a playpen would. Maybe it was time for something simple, something to keep them out of the way and forgotten so that the numerous enemies they’ve been acquiring lose sight of them for a while.
Kaede paced trying to reason through a dozen different options and even who might be behind some of these newer rumors of trouble. His office was not large, a half a dozen strides in either direction brought him to wall where he would turn and advance in the other direction, hands waving in the air in a thoughtful manner.

There had been no shortage of trouble in the time Kaede had ascended to the role of an Inquisitor, not shortage of mystery for that matter. Out of so many people in the Calaxis sector came all sorts of webs to untangle, something for which he was thankfully good at. But even then, He was only human. With his agents and the resources of the inquisition spread throughout the sector he didn’t know everything, and couldn’t possibly know everything.

Seeing an incoming communication from a fellow Inquisitor Kaede ceased his introspection and answered it taking note it was coming from the astropathic choir on Solomon….

Steel Cannot Feel, Only the Skin Within
Mechanicus Communique Re: S. Calista

++++++++ From : Geno-Seer Octobus Priam
++++++++ To : Venatorii Weltrax Damas, Crimson Guard
++++++++ Via Astropath – beacon 968317-02(lrt)
++++++++ Countersignal 742332
++++++++Cypheron Omnissiahnas : T56

++++Venatorii Weltrax,

Calista Ichinose of Sisters Vespila has been an asset in our investigation of the body of servitors employed within the Andoth lathe-stack, currently under quarantine level extremis. Domestic clone-vat tissue harvests for the construction of servitors were at 99.03 purity index to generation 937 from founding before this incident. The Kameron Dase virus infection was narrowed to generation 827 D batch and all servitor organ tissue derived from it. Symptoms ranged from autonomic catastrophic demise to uncontrolled rage akin to exposure to a berserker pulse. High virulence spread the contagion to other servitor populations in the manufactorium. The rampage of the servitor riots have gutted the lower core of the lathe-stack, reducing it’s manufactoring output by a factor of 0.02. The remaining servitors and labor helots have now been contained within a haywire field surrounded by a maniple of skitarii in case of quarantine breach.

The Sister aided Magus Genetor Ouz’s staff in identifying the virus, apparently due to her immunity to the cloaking aspect inherent in it’s warp-coded nucleic structure. As she was the only one among the alchemis, biologis and genetoris who displayed outward duress in the forensic examinations of the servitors, our logician deduced to 0.97 probability that her status as an initiated “Bride of the Emperor”(illog-sic) would narrow the candidate viruses to those of demonic nature. Withstanding strong nausea due to inherent weakness of her un-augmented physique, she continued at her examination station until we had compiled the data necessary to identify an anterograde Kameron Dase agent. The vectors of this virus are still under intense investigation, and allies among Ordo Malleus have been requested. We recommend that Calista get a total sanguinary flush and neural alignment after her efforts here.

Despite her lack of cortex implants, we have granted her some basic instruction in the proper summoning of machine spirits as well as identification and use of the many chemicals used in our laboratorium. We will bequeath to her the chem-dosing vivisector issued and fitted to her during the forensic exams, as she gained much proficiency during her stay with us. Your temporary commission of Sister Calista to our service during this investigation will be recorded to Magus Genetor Ouz.

We honor your recent victory over the abominations that would pervert the Quest for Knowledge. Be prepared to receive further summons to serve the Omnissiah in our war against that which would taint our creations.

Geno-Seer Octobus Priam
“Flesh is fallible, but ritual honours the Machine Spirit” (The 15th Precept)++++

A Cry for Help
Thoughts Beget Heresy, Heresy Begets Retribution

The cold sweat off of her back was not yet dry when Persephone decided to climb out of her sleep cubicle and sit down at the com station. She wanted to find some solace in repentance. Another restless night and her prayers were not enough to banish the night terrors she now suffered. The cold grating of the floor panels in her quarters helped cement her back into reality as she stepped closer to the com station in the corner. The system was always on and hopefully she could get through to Sister Agnes or Sister Euness.

It was dark in her quarters until the com system thrummed to life when she typed in the activation code. The screen cast its light across the room and faintly illuminating all of Persephone’s belongings, the few she had. She glanced over in the opposite corner to her Sororitas armor and felt a sense of comfort as if it were a guardian hanging on the wall watching over her. Her thoughts then went back to the console where it was patiently awaiting her command. Persephone typed in the cipher that transmitted her signal to a com relay system and connected her to distant Ophelia where maybe someone from her order will answer her call. Her message read *I MUST REPENT, FOR MY THOUGHTS BETRAY ME IN REST. GUIDANCE REQUESTED*.

Persephone lost track of how many minutes may have passed before her call was answered from distant Ophelia. *REQUEST GRANTED, SISTER PERSEPHONE STANDBY. COM CONNECTION IMMINENT FROM SISTER AGNES*

She adjusted the amplitude dials and rotated the vox grills so she could better receive her superior. A voice then crackled on the vox as a live pict came to life on the screen, “What is your confession sister?” She sounded somewhat cold and mechanical, perhaps the signal was weak. Agnes did look older from her last communiqué, it has been many years. She could tell from the wrinkles under her eyes and the few strands of graying hair from under her hood.

“I confess that my thoughts will betray my faith in the Emperor. My contact with the warp creatures has left a mark in my mind and sleep is no longer a refuge from my labour.” She felt a pang of guilt speaking that truth to Agnes.

“Please elaborate sister, what do you mean?” Came the response.

“When I fall asleep I feel like I awake in a new world that is just as real as this one. Once I stand up from the stone I floor I walk down a nearby corridor. The walls are made of stone and it shifts and grinds out of the corner of my eye. Mocking faces carved into the walls leer at me when I move along the corridors. When I look at them directly they sink back into the wall.” She paused for a moment and collected her thoughts, “It’s not always the same dream, but it is in the same place. A cavernous maze with large rooms and moving shadows, but nobody present. The path is never the same, but it always ends in a room with monitors along every wall and obscene acts are on display by humans and bestial creatures. Once I reach the middle of the room I can not help but stare at what they are doing. Eventually they see that I am watching them and their attentions turn to me as if they can see me on the other side of the screen. I always run away when this happens, all of their gazes are too much to bear.” Persephone shifted uncomfortably on her stool as she awaited Sister Agnes’s response.

“Have you been reciting your daily catechisms and anointing yourself with holy unguents?”

“I pray to our Father 3 times every cycle, but I have run out of unguents.” She said with conviction.

“Have you maintained your standards of purity and not deviated from your sworn oaths?”

“Yes, I have kept my sacred vows.” A feeling of hopelessness was starting to set in. Sister Agnes is not grasping my struggle.

There was a long pause as Sister Agnes looked down at something Persephone could not see in the screen. She began to speak with some minute display of emotion to Persephone as she returned her attention forward again, “You were recently promoted to the rank of sister militant for your bravery and service. It is only natural for the strains of battle to take their toll.” The vox cut out briefly and crackled back to life… “ices you have undertaken. I recommend self flagellation for a fortnight.” With a steely expression Sister Agnes added. “By your expression I can see that you have something else to state?” Part question and observation.

Persephone went flush as her Sister Superior read her expression from this distance so effectively. “Yes, this latest dream was different this time.” The perspiration returning to her skin as she began to speak the details, “Everything was the same as before except this last dream I saw a figure of light emerge from where I came at the end of the stony labyrinth, he stood there in the distance like a beacon. I wanted to return, but the light was too bright and had to turn my gaze away back to the screens. The creatures howled in rage when I looked back and began pushing their way through the screens like a child emerging through a mother’s placenta. I tried to run but my legs rebelled and went stiff. I couldn’t crawl away fast enough and they began to tear at me like a pack of beasts. I screamed for help and none came."

Silence… The screen wavered slightly as the signal faded for a moment.

“My recommendations I made previously still stand Sister Persephone, however I see need to consult with my superior in light of the new information you have given me. If there is need I may send you further communication on how to work with your afflication.” Sister Agnes appeared to be turning pages of a tome, but it was hard to tell, “Please join me in a prayer and perhaps we can use our Father to steel your faith against these dreams.” They began to pray.


Persephone crawled back into her sleep cubicle and did her best to avoid thinking about the topic of her confession. Her back stung. She hoped the pain will keep the dreams at bay.com16.jpg

...To Sleep, Perchance To Scream
The Tricorn, Sibellus, Scintilla

Sister Calista’s Log

After finding my medical skills wanting under the duress experienced on Quaddis, I pursued further training under the tutelage of the most renown chirurgeons of the Inquisitorial staff of the Tricorn. I honed my skills at sutures, wound binding and studying pharmacopiea, hunched over cadavers and tomes for hours. Certificates of Knowledge bestowed to me did not warrant my confidence, so I sought to intern within the smoking, volcanic pits of Gunmetal City, where violence sped from muzzles and punctured into bodies by the minute. At a charity clinic sponsored by House Doru in the Infernis underhive, I tended to hundreds of ballistics wounds as well as the occasional toxic gas poisoning or lava burn. Among the coldest and hardest of Calixian humanity, the gangers of Infernis did not impress me as I patched them up so that they may go back to shooting each other. The whole lot of them should have been conscripted into the Imperial Guard long ago to truly put their skills under the test…as my medicae skills were tested there in the shadow of burning Mount Thollos.

Our escape from the Red Cages and my almost-fatal decision to lure the Widower away from the Steel Clock still haunted my memories. These distressing thoughts reminded me that Quaddis would need strong redemptive measures, and I remembered Obadiah Psalter. Travelling to Hive Tarsus, my companions and I sought audience with whoever would listen within the grand halls of the Cathedral of Illumination, gaining pledges to consecrate a new edifice to house the presence of the Adeptus Ministorum on that wayward planet. I petitioned that Reverend Psalter be given mandate and implored anyone from high office-holders to tithing pilgrims, as the imposing statues of Drusus and Angevin watched over our pleas. Hopefully, the Reverend will have enough to replant a seed of faith there from what we have garnered. And, to abate fitful sleep, I gathered as much solace as I could by meditating upon the face of the Emperor while reading litanies of faith as one throng of pilgrims after another passed by.

When I returned from Tarsus, I found in my quarters, besides replenishment doses for my medicae kit, a new Mars Pattern Mark IV Command laspistol just as Major Adontius of the Maccabian Janissaries wielded. The Emperor provides…through the largess of a satisfied Inquisitor. Though I preferred a standard Guard lasgun, this sidearm gave me more security to face the heretic, mutant and witch. It also reminded me of when the Guardsmen whispered that I had the “martyr’s gift” by reviving the Major so that he could take up his Mark IV again, which was strength enough for me.

But the nightmare of the Widower continues. It pursues me past the clamoring of the Steel Clock. It’s amorphous limbs scamper with unnatural speed across the tiles, reaching for me. I can sometimes feel that even its torn countenance, the only thing remaining of it’s horrid form, still whispers riddles that echo in my mind, even as it is now secured within the depths of the Tricorn. And so I run. My waking life at dawn now is filled with laps in the training quarters of the Tricorn to expend my anxieties. Though my legs burn, my speed improves, if just enough. I pray it is enough to keep me out of the grasp of the nightmare that pursues me in my sleep.

Shards of Memory
Quaddis to Scintilla via warp travel

Cold water washed over my stomach. A soft, warm hand replaced it. Her unearthly beautiful eyes stared down at me, like windows to another dimension. Suddenly, the clouds blackened. It felt like the gods wept, countless, tiny fragments of a storm shattering against me and her. It ceased. The heavens parted as the legendary black ship splintered through them, blotting out the sun that shined over the riverbank and the palm trees. Its godlike size and shadowy greatness dwarfed the tales I was told. And she was torn from me, floating up and away like a drowning, lifeless body. I reached out for her, but she was miles away now, her haunting, wondrous gaze still locked on mine. I rose from the water, consumed with rage. I hurled rocks at the looming ship in anger, but they didn’t even reach the clouds. The spec she became was gone with the black ship. It sailed out into the twinkling blueish black expanse, leaving me with the unforgiving monsoon, alone. I screamed for all the stars to hear, swearing that I would take on the galaxy to see her again.
These are the screams I jarringly woke up to. There was no great black ship of my dreams, just the cold, durasteel floor of reality that I fell on. A king sized bed was right next to me. I remembered where I was.
No where. In a voidship floating through the depths of the Immaterium. And so was my dreaming mind…
I had one question on my mind. Who was she? Then another one…
Who am I?

Black Hole Sun
Gabriel Chase Manse,13th Hour
The crescendo of clocks synchronizing towards the minutes and seconds of the Steel Clock was deafening, even among the din of the assembled revelers. Over the last hours, I witnessed the sun slowly being eaten by shadow, then the toll of the 13th hour struck and I could tell a most unholy transfiguration was taking place in the skies above, but I dared not look, and warned others as well, as it was just as described by the mad Inquisitor Guiller in his rantings. The Steel Clock’s own towering form grew more substantial , and we suspected the center piece hanging amid the cogs and gears to be the key towards defeating the cult of Hayte and their aspirations to bring ruin upon Quaddis. We approached it cautiously as before, but with more determination brought about by events around us. Chaos then reigned as the crowd erupted in a storm of frenzied violence, many bathed in the unlight unexpectedly succumbing to the madness of the Tyrant Star. Words were hurled from the direction of the Steel Clock, and I could see the Heron Mask, that apostle of Hayte, goading the Widower to reveal himself. Then, the one in the Jackal Mask, whom we had hunted throughout the manse, parted the crowd, approached the Steel Clock and revealed himself – a horrid monster of nightmarish form and shifting substance. Hidden among the panicked crowd and entering the chamber were the Pilgrims, and they came to blanket the guests in terror and blood. As my comrades braved climbing the Clock, grenades rocked the fleeing throng, followed by random sprays of gunfire. As I secured our escape route though the mayhem should things go badly, I saw Lady Melowa fall and tended to her and my comrades. Meanwhile, the Windower ran rampant, slaying Pilgrim after Pilgrim with claw and fang of its ephemeral yet impregnable form – earning it’s name. I could not find purchase to mount the clock to assist in the melee ensuing between Hayte’s leader, but I could tell that the Widower would have no issue with this. Where it, in its formidable state, to join the desperate battle atop the clock, I knew that all would be lost. I directed Vipus, an elderly noble who had given us some assistance, to help me bring down that beast, or at least slow it down to buy those above us time. He, displaying the trait of a true servant of Our Emperor, rare among the gathered, paid the ultimate price and was swiftly dispatched by the unrelenting Widower approaching the Clock. On that floor, slick with Vipus’s blood, I called to the monster, taunting it that the black star above us would drown in the Emperor’s Light by my very own hand. It glared at me with it’s many unnatural orbs, and I knew I had forfeited my life with those words. I ran…away from the Clock….past other Pilgrims, who failed to mark it with bullets…and it followed until it was upon me. I could feel the wind of a huge, sweeping claw pass across my back. Then a blast rocked me forward and I was sprayed with offal of the remains of what was just a second ago the Widower. I turned and saw that the Clock was sundered into a million pieces, my comrades scattered about and near death. The only thing remaining of that blasphemous creature lay upon the debris behind me, a skin composed of the contorted face of the Widower, it’s twisted mouth mewling and spewing forth riddling nonsense…or perhaps undisclosed secrets of it’s Haarlock master. Just as quickly as it fell on us above, the black sun, the dreaded Komus, the Tyrant Star, that I have heard of in the ramblings of a madman, faded away to reveal the parting of shadow and sun and the end of the Revel of Darkness.
Double Dealings
Xicarph, Pleasure Planet Quaddis

My Lord Inquisitor Kaede,

When we met this “Spider Bride” I knew this may be an enemy we may not be able to best, but thankfully we had another option. It appears that Grist was not the only one hoping to quickly eliminate a rival and adversary. She offered us much the same deal, tickets to the Gabriel Chase for killing Grist. Her reasons for wanting this were much more convincing however, as it was easy to see that Grist is parasite and blight upon this city. The acolytes talked to her as I evaluated her defenses and support. She had many courtesans in the room and outer rooms which I’m sure are not merely for looks, they probably carry hidden blades or more.

The “Spider Bride” herself was more then meets the eye, I could see a concealed power blade in the arm of her chair as well as she had many augmentations that I’m not familiar with. I suspect something darker is at work but I have no evidence to support that claim, just a dark feeling.

After discussing among ourselves we decided not only would killing Grist be a more desirable route but that it may be more feasible. She gave us a box to give to him and instructions to “stand back”. I’m sure its not an explosive but who knows what other manner of things it could hold.

Getting back to Fate’s Wheel didn’t take nearly as long as it took getting to the Pleasure Gardens now that we knew the path. Surrendering our bigger weapons at the door once more I questioned the sanity of our current plan, sure I was able to hold onto my blade and the Acolytes theirs(and small arms), but what of his enforcers and numerous other guards? I could see guards along the wall and throughout the establishment, not all are reliably to be sure but enough that would make our escape very difficult.

Grist welcomed us back with open arms excited to be rid of his dangerous adversary I’m sure. Seeing the box he was quick to ask us if it was her head and we didn’t deny it. Taking us to a private booth towards the back we settled in while he prepared to open it. As he lifted the lid a spider servitor leaped out severing his head and running off with it and everything went to hell.

Grist’s psyker body guard started in on us as well as his giant bruiser. It took us several minutes but we were finally able to bring them down and make for the door. I think the with the commotions caused by a severed head being carried through the establishment and the fleeing patrons that the guards must of had their hands full since few raised any attempt to stop us.

I think that we’ll need to be even more cautious in our return to her for our prize. I do not trust her.



The fate of a planet
Persephone has a vision

Data slate entry 12.27.5557.1

Thought for the day: “Heresy begets treason, treason begets retribution.”

Everything is finally coming together. At last we’ve made it into the opulence of Gabriel Chase and are moments away from finding our quarry. As soon as we set foot into this refuge of unholy over-indulgence I briefly worried about the prospect of encountering one of my kin here. Family far removed, but recognizable. I would definitely not hesitate in chastising whomever it may be. They would not understand though, luckily I was removed from that life before I grew too accustomed to it.

I contemplate if this will be where I martyr myself in the Emperor’s name. I will surely find out soon. These clocks remind me of every moment closer that I am to this moment. If my companions and I succeed I would like to see this world change. I would like to be the catalyst for such a change. I found some like minded people on this planet and perhaps they would join me. This vision would transform Quaddis into a haven of law and justice in the Emperor’s name.

+++End of log entry***

Fate's Wheel
Xicarph, Pleasure Planet Quaddis

My Lord Inquisitor Kaede

Taking on the Pilgrims that ambushed us that wanted to kill Septimus showed us that we may need more firepower to take them on should we encounter them with significant numbers. Talking to the public one of the places that deals in better armaments and black market goods is called Fate’s Wheel. A bar, a gambling cesspool, and a den of evil all, Fate’s Wheel had everything somebody who was up to no good would need. They had a bar of course, serving everything from fine wines to the darkest brews. Along the far wall weapon deals were made, they had most of the things I would expect of a place like this and a few more. I have not seen too many melta weapons in black market but the owner of this establishment clearly could afford it. In between the bar and the weapons sales they have fighting pits between everything you can imagine. Xenos, humans and monsters I’ve never seen all fighting it out in the dark sands while people cheered from the gantries above.

Fate’s Wheel was a very large establishment to say the least. We were required to give up firearms at the door, so I advised caution in our dealings so we wouldn’t get overwhelmed should things take a turn for the worse. We have little money and prices were high, seeing this perhaps, a lady approached us. Malfian by her dress I surmised she was a little out of her element here as well so I was curious what reasons could bring her to such a place. Her name is Lady Melua, a Malfian Noblewoman whose brother had been abducted some time before. She was looking for clues to finding him and her clues had ended in Xicarph. Paying us a small fee upfront and giving us a picture gave us something to work with and some new weapons and ammunition should we need them.

Perhaps to balance out our luck in finding a way to finance our mission we ran afoul a clearly drunk citizen who demanded satisfaction by dueling. ***Redacted*** and I entered an arena, as it seemed the easiest way to again earn more money (the fool wanted to bet us). One of the men he sent against us had gotten his hands on an eviscerator Emperor knows where. After dispatching them and collecting our winnings we made a few more purchases and made to leave the establishment before more trouble could brew.

This was not to be. We were stopped on our way out by a pair of dark looking fellows that took us to a corner booth. The man here introduced himself as Papa Grist, the owner of Fate’s Wheel and master of many trades. Apparently he had upset a rival named the Spider Bride, who is in charge of the courtesans in the pleasure gardens and a big power in the city as well. He made us a deal, kill her and he would give us tickets into Gabriel Chase (the Haarlock Manse) and 1000 throne gelt each which would be more than enough to help us finance the rest of this mission. Seeing it as perhaps the best course of action as the Gabriel Chase seemed like the next destination to solving the mysteries of this city and crusade against the Pilgrims of Hayte we agreed.

“Work earns Salvation.”



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