Mordeci keeps a hand on the sling his lasgun hangs over his shoulder with, his one good eye staring out at the street as Zieg talks. Withdrawing his left hand from his pocket he adjusts his hat, then looks over at the Arbites before holding out said hand. "I need a dozen Thrones. Forgot to pick up a pack of Lho's before we left." he says, his one good eye focusing on the man as he awaits his answer.
Zieg gives a shrug, reaching into his pocket and dropping a handful of coinage to the other man. "Make it last, we don't got much money, and bribery ain't cheap," he warns, before glancing over to the wild-haired woman and watching her walk away. "Ofor..." he muttered, shaking his head and quickly pursuing.
Mordeci pockets the thrones he's given, tilting his hat down and deciding to follow Zieg at a leisurely pace, his one good eye darting around to keep a wary eye on his surroundings. "I assume little miss chem-hair knows where she's going, yeah? Would be a problem if we ended up lost in this......Place." he says, rather disdainfully. Even the outer edge of Gunmetal's Mid-hive was better than this. At this, he seems to think out loud. "Wonder if these folks accept Rounds."
Gallus spent much of his time on the trip there in thought. As the group left the station, he'd have done his best to arrange the hiver coat around his other stuff. One matter that still concerned him was the presence of his "partner", although the Interrogator seemed unconcerned. It was possible that the ID would cover that aspect of matters. Still, if it seemed to be attracting too much attention, he'd mention the matter to the Arbite that seemed to be the more level-headed, and try to determine the best way to disguise its presence.
(I-I'm heading towards the habs, if this is not apparent.)
(EDIT: Wait, shit, howe do I into raeding comprehenshun. Lemme revise my directioning)
Recalling the layout of this place and that there were multiple ways for them to head to Saul's dwelling - and also that no one but her had seemed interested in actually looking at the maps the Inquisitor had provided, which surely would not result in terrible things if they ever managed to get split up - Thiopia explained to the group the different routes they could take. "You all remember our destination, yes?" Thiopia asked, her words ringing disparately to the sort typical so low in the Hives, and pointed somewhere roughly past the market. "It looks like we can go through those merchants to get there. It's possible to go around, but t'would be better to listen to what's being said, and maybe see if any one gang has a dominant presence, in case of later troubles, yes?"
She also glared at their cowboy and cop. "And what are you doing! That is company money - buy your own stupid lho sticks! I will also thank you to at least be clever about making quips about my hair - you don't see me insinuating that you fuck horses, do you?"
Mordeci breaks out laughing, his yellow teeth showing as he does so, adjusting the hat on his head. "You got spunk, girl, I'll give you that." he says, crossing his arms over his chest and following the woman. "And for your information, Lho-sticks are the only thing I'll ever need to spend Thrones on, missy. A man's gotta have a vice to keep him occupied." he says, keeping his eye on the market stalls in case he did in fact find someone pawning Lho-sticks, content to follow the woman since his own sense of navigation was rather lacking.
"If it makes you any better, part of that was the last of my prior paycheck," Zieg counters, looking to the Noble again. "With that said though, I admit I may have been... rash for such a decision. I'll ensure it'll get payed back in full somehow."
Peering over the woman's shoulders to see the map himself, he scratched his chin a little, brushing at some of the stubble. "Probably smartest to go through the market. I doubt even with how quiet this place is someone would be nuts enough to just start opening fire in one..."
The group follows Thiopia as she guides them in the general direction of the Corscala market, to the northeast of the transit station. The market itself spills out of a main lane way that splits two large habstacks that dominate the plaza's eastern edge. Contrasting with the height of the habs, the numerous market stalls are little more than metal boxes gathered haphazardly together, creating a mishmash of impromptu paths that are filled with Corscala citizens - most of whom look impoverished, and regard you warily as you pass them by.
The market offers little of value to your group for the purposes of your mission. Poor quality clothing, various household appliances, food rations cooked in similar ways, combined with grilled or roasted vermin meat. You presume rat, but there may be some wild dog for sale as well.
There is a store that sells lho sticks, along with various trinkets, and news readings from uphive. It is nestled just at the entrance to the laneway between the habstacks, which will lead them in the direction of Saul Arbest's apartment. It looks to be a pretty big stall, and more well-stocked than any other that you've seen here, but it only has two customers at the moment - a two man squad of the local enforcers, resting their autocarbines on their for arms as they demand a pair of canned refreshments from the rotund stall attendant, who appears to be sweating.
Thiopia and Zieg both notice that the regular hab citizens are giving the enforcers a wide berth, moving quickly past the stall and out of sight as much as possible. The nearby stall owners also seem to have withdrawn to the back of their metal boxes, not wanting to draw attention to themselves. The attendant returns to his counter with the cans, and the enforcers take them without paying, turning around to see the four of you as you enter the cleared space. They note your weapons, your assorted attire, and in particular, the cyber mastiff that trails behind the tech priest. They seem to be considering you carefully.
"You have clearance to be handling that tech?" One of them asks Gallus, just before he downs most of his drink in one long drought.
The stare that Zieg gave the enforcers would be enough to give one the same sensation as a man under the warm care of a Melta weapon, with the focused ferocity he was trying to keep down. He may not be the straightest arrow at times, but when it came to ensuring the proper people were treated under the protection and the guilty under the ire of the law he flew true. These men apparently were no better than any hive gangster!
Zieg would shift a little, ensuring that his shotgun was properly hidden under his jacket better- but leaving his hand near the place his stub pistol lay. "And I believe you were supposed to pay for those goods as well, trooper. Theft is as much of a crime as any in your state of office," he counters, continuing to glare as he takes the forefront of the crew. "Our matters are our own."
The enforcer paused in his drink for a moment as Zieg made his retort, then, with his eyes still on the Arbites, finished his beverage with a second large gulp. He crinkled the can in his hand and then discarded it into the dirty street, before placing his hand back on the autocarbine rifle he held, giving the trigger guard a few thoughtful taps with his forefinger.
Behind him, his partner cracks his neck side to side, loosening himself up before drawing his eyeguard visor down and reattaching the rebreather mask that he had taken off earlier, giving the enforcer the 'look' of a faceless death dealing soldier.
"You'll want to watch your tongue while you're here, stranger," the first enforcer said. "We operate with the authority of Warden Locan, and the Ministorum. We're the law in Corscala. The shopkeeper was happy to give a free drink to the men who keep this Throne-blasted ashpile free from an overrun of dregs, vermin, and underhive filth."
The enforcer stepped closer to Zieg, returning the same sort of stare that the Arbiter had attempted to cow the man with. Looking closely into the enforcer's eyes, Zieg saw a complete lack of empathy there, only scorn, condescension, and quite possibly a murderous appetite. Zieg had seen the eyes of cold-blooded killers before, and this enforcer had them. What was worse, he was armed and armored to the teeth.
"You kind've look like filth," the officer continued. "Got ID's that say otherwise? Official Ministorum policy, enforcers have the right to ask for ID of any 'suspect' citizens. And I've just decided that you lot are suspect. That means your matters - they're my business now."
Everyone not involved in a staring contest now notices that the immediate environs are being cleared of passersby, and all shop keepers have ducked beneath their shop benches.
Mordeci steps up to the stall, pretty much ignoring the enforcers as he places a few thrones on the counter "Pack of lho's, buddy." he says to the shopkeep, his right hand reaching up to adjust his hat and his left slowly reaching into his coat, pulling out his Coblast Assay ID slowly, so as not to appear he was drawing a gun. "Might want to just let us be about our business." he says, flipping the ID open to show to the Enforcer
"Does he, now? I would think faith in the Emperor would suffice," Thiopia retorted to Mordeci, bringing up vices. Keeping him in mind did help her remember herself and kept her ever from erring in her studies... but, with the dangers of the things she learned and their contradiction to the ecclesiastic ideal of 'purity of mind', she often wondered if the Emperor would accept her work, and her recitations of His litanies sometimes felt a little hollow.
'Purity of mind', indeed - more like willful ignorance of the enemies of mankind. How could you smite them if you did not know their weaknesses? The Emperor might have the power to strike them down regardless, but his myriad servants were not great like him, and even through faith, could only channel a fraction of his powers, no? Thiopia shook her head - this wasn't relevant to the work before her. So, she put the thoughts aside.
Later on, when one of her colleagues decided antagonizing the local 'lawmen' was a good idea, Thiopia seethed at him inwardly, and made her way a little further down the row of stalls, pretending to browse these wares - she supposed the masses would have to settle for what they could get, especially in a Hive city, and especially in the near-Underhive like here. It was good the shopkeepers were all hiding - it kept them from trying to sell her anything, allowing her to focus on the conversation. If things went bad, her hand was on her gun, waiting.
A pudgy hand from the stall tender reaches up, takes the thrones, and pushes a couple packs of lho sticks toward Mordeci's waiting grasp before disappearing to the bottom of the stall floor again.
The jawline of the talking enforcer tightens as Mordeci pulls out his Coblast Asssay ID and holds it up to the tough's eye level. To those watching him, the local law enforcer's face doesn't demonstrate fear, but it does appear that he takes this revelation seriously into his calculations. He now seems to be under the impression that the four acolytes - or perhaps just the three acolytes, since Thiopia has decided to act as just a bystander - are competent, well-armed mercenaries who can put up a fight, and that he and his partner are slightly outnumbered in a public place, even though they are well-equipped themselves.
"Coblast Assay? So you're reclaimators. Feh. If that's the case, just keep to the habstacks and stay out of our business here in the markets. You can fight the dregs and gangers for the scraps."
He hefts his rifle and backs up a step, allowing the group to pass without further incident. If they chose to continue without any further demands, they would make their way down the market laneway, which gives way into a smaller plaza behind the two central habstacks. This plaza is dominated by a lively building that looks to be the central entertainment in Corscala. The sign above the door reads in Low Gothic, "3rd Tantalus Workers Union."
Around the sides of it, three half-track vehicles and a number of customized motorbikes are parked along the walls. Men in obvious ganger garb patrol these vehicles and the front door. They seem to have no concern that at the far end of the lane, overzealous enforcers are patrolling the streets. Some of them sport strange hairstyles, such as dyed mohawks, shaved and tattooed scalps, or perma gelled spiked locks.
The distant bell of the templum rings out, marking the sixth hour of the standard afternoon cycle. In reaction to this, the doors of the nearby habs all seem to open nigh-simultaneously, as individuals and families, looking drab and bereft of any means, shamble their way south and east, down a far laneway towards another open square, where there appears to be a large minostorum alms house that has opened its doors for the dinner handouts. It's a clear sign of the devastating poverty and lack of employment in the region that so many people are lining up for food handouts.
If the group's intention was to continue on to Saul Arbest's house, they could take the northern laneway out of their current plaza, bypassing the Worker's Union, and they would arrive in about five minutes, by Thiopia's estimation.
Even if they wore their hair in such barbaric, garish styles, Thiopia did have to admit it had a certain enticing aesthetic to it. Very rough, most definitely, but not entirely without merit.
That was her first thought. Her second thought was that she should probably fall back some, into the middle of the rest of their cell. Let the fighting men be the ones they see first.
Sadly, the dregs that called this place home were not so colorfully attired, and they reminded her all too much of her dreary home. Though, at least her people could provide for themselves. Why not just pick up and move somewhere else, Thiopia thought; it wasn't as if, here in the Hive, they might freeze or be eaten by wild beasts, like they might elsewhere. A few stops away from this burnt-up husk of a place. The 'enforcers' here were little better than thugs, worthy only in that they could shoot whatever vile scum rose from even further down to pillage the place, who would likely shoot first and take after.
Briefly, Thiopia wondered if she could scrape together an industry here. There was a workforce, clearly - all hurting from being without - which meant cheap labor. Alas, the gangers and enforcers would likely bleed her of whatever profit would be made off that. Perhaps if they would eject a few of the undesirables in the course of their work here...?
Well, either way, she would have to survive weeding out whatever spoiled this place, first, so mayhap she ought to set aside those thoughts and keep her eyes open.
Mordeci claims his sticks, before placing one in his mouth and lighting it, carrying on with the rest of the group. "See, this is why I'm along. I'm here to look intimidating and gun down anything that stands in the way of the 'Emperor's Justice'" he says, blowing out a thin blast of smoke from the side of his mouth and watching his surroundings as best he could with his one eye. The entire section of the hive reminded him of home. Squalor, fear. Lack of proper Arbites or enforcer involvement. Well, at least there weren't Vapour Rats running around everywhere.
Zieg's 35 vs Roll 1
...Well where was you the last 5-6 checks we've had to make?!?
Zieg gives a bit of a snort at what Mordeci claimed. "Absolutely shameful of the local Enforcery to not do some form of checks for such corruption. Hive gangs are trouble enough, you don't need the Emperor's first line to help the gangers..." he muttered, shifting his gear a bit inside of his coat.
He takes a moment to take another swig of his flask before looking to the populace in the area. "Though I guess on the other hand, with this many people like this, it'd be hard press for even the hiver gangs to survive..."
Gallus is being NPC'd until ShadowWolf feels he can play with some inspiration. He will not have Fate points while being NPC'd. He rolls a perception test of 25 vs 34 - success.
The group presses forward towards its intended destination - the last known living quarters of the deceased in question, Saul Arbest. Not wanting to be way laid by the locals, they ignore the growing crowds of low or no-income hab proles who make their way to the alms house for ration handouts, and they keep their eyes to themselves as they make their way northwards, around the Third Tantalus Worker's Union - the only bar in town, which seems to be teeming with hiver scum, some of whom do not fail to notice your small group going against the grain of the masses, wandering out into the north east part of the Corscala.
While the central plazas of the market areas were dirty by up-hive standards, they were at least displaying signs of life. It doesn't take many minutes of walking for the group to discover that they are now alone on the streets, with burnt out hab complexes stretching on either side of narrow, collapsed laneways, littered with junk and foul smelling refuse that haven't seen a waste reclaimator vehicle in years. You can still strain your ears and hear the sounds of the market vaguely, but in the immediate vicinity there is no visual sign of life. However, most of you can make out movement in the occasional window of the habstacks apartments above you. Some people still live here, and they are on their guard, mindful of who prowls outside the dingy, charred grey boxes that they call home.
With a good head for following the map, Thiopia soon leads the group to Habstack 717. It is a ten story, grey building with arched windows emblazoned with the insignia of a scarab. The group enters into the foyer, through a ruined and smashed in set of doors, and observe that the building seems to have been thoroughly vandalized and scavenged. The elevator has been destroyed, leaving only an empty dark shaft exposed. The only other manner of ascent is an old stair well that is decorated with damaged murals depicting active, happy workers, stylized representations of hive nobles dispensing bounty from on high, and icons of Scintilla's most powerful staring out nobly from above.
The four acolytes make their way up the stairs. As they walk, all but Mordeci can sense an abiding sense of dread in this building, more powerful than anything that they have sensed before. Additionally, Thiopia, Zieg, and Gallus all get the feeling that they are being watched. For Zieg, the hairs on the back of his neck are standing on end, his sixth sense telling him that he is very close to some malevolence, even though he cannot see it plainly with his eyes.
The group ascends to the correct floor and quickly finds Saul's apartment. The door is ajar, and the lock is smashed and broken. Visible from the hallway, the interior of the roughly 8x8 meter box chamber with a single arched window facing the street sports very little, saved for an overturned table and cleaned out drawers.
The more attentive of the group hear a stifled gasp just before they reach the doorway, and some scuffling movement inside. Someone is in the apartment, just out of sight.
Thiopia made sure to walk in the middle of the group. She trusted the others to be far more ready for a fight than she was, though either way she did not like that they were in here, confined in unfamiliar buildings. 'Always do it on your terms', father told her.
A gasp inside of what looked to be Saul's apartment gave her pause. Obviously someone was in there, but who? 'Gasping' didn't seem like the sort of thing a ganger would do... mayhap it was Lili? That would prove fortunate... but in such a place as this, Thio wondered if she would be harmless as a farmwife might be at home.
After a brief internal deliberation, the noblesse decided on what she thought would be the best way to percede. She thumped the door a few times, and called out: "Hello? We wish to speak of the resident of this hab."
Mordeci sticks with the group, though he moves himself to the front as they approach the hab, his right hand moving to his hip to draw his laspistol and hold it at the ready at his side when the noblewoman appears to be talking to someone inside. "Miss, you might want to step aside. Whoever's in there might not be particularly friendly." he whispers, his lho-stick still wafting smoke upward from his mouth as he takes a position next to the door frame.
Despite the knock at the door and the hushed words exchanged between Thiopia and Mordeci, no reply or additional sound is heard from beyond the slightly opened door.
Upon seeing Mordeci draw his weapon, Gallus as well takes out his firearm, and the mechanical hound beside him crouches in preparation should things get ugly.
