Deatrixs Diary

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    ++Deatrixs Diary++

    Introduction:

    My name is Deatrix Mary-Anna Ollifix, born in the backwaters of Cyrus-Vulpa. Cyrus

    is an Agri-World full of a buncha independent businesses and roughntumble folk. Hell, myfamilys a buncha Grox-farmers, breeders and catchers. There aint a Grox this side of the

    Kronous Expanse that an Ollifix cant down, skin, butcher, cook, season, eat and fashion within

    an hour. But this aint their diary, its mine.

    Im 26 years old (hard to believe with mylooks, right?) and an Arbite, to boot. Have been

    for a coupla years at that. Ever since Zerks passing. Shew, I miss his stupid ass.

    Zerks is my late husband. Died in the line of duty. He was an Arbite too. High-ranker at

    that. Praetus Rex introduced us. Thats my brother. Hes an Arbite too and man, was he

    steamin when I said I wanted to take Zerks place when he died. But ta hell with him, I got the

    training, I passed the courses, written and physical. Outran, out-jumped, and out-maneuvered

    all those fuggin Hivers n city-walkers.

    Point bein, I became an Arbite for my late babys sake, and Emprah-damned Rexll hate

    me for it for the resta his days.

    And oh Emprah, speakin of babies... Shew. Zerks n I tried to have a kid once. Didnt

    work. Not one bit. Well, shouldnt say that. He was conceived, yeah, that was the easy part. And

    the fun part. But shew, we never saw that baby. Alive at least.

    Still born. Buh. Fuggin hated it. All that time, all that waitin n hopin fer nothin. Shew, theEmprah has some way of showin his love fer his followers.

    Zerks was as miserable as I was about it. He wanted to forget it and try again. I said itd

    be too soon. He was a bit flustered about it, but agreed.

    We got ta keep a memento though. My idea. Before the Tech-folk carted the littlun off, I

    asked if I could keep the head. The skull at least.

    Weird request from a mother, right? Keepin the head of yer dead kid? But hell, how I see

    it is that I get ta keep a little bitta him with me at all times and he gets to be one-a those flyin

    Cherub-things. Win win. Ill never forget im and he gets to fly.

    Or at least thats how I like to see it.

    The Inquisition:

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    Right. So. This diary. Im keepin it cause of my new title in the Inquisiton. Thats right

    The Inqu-fuggin-sition. Some fella, an Inquisitor I guess, came by the barracks and said he

    was Screening for potential Acolytes for his Cell. Honestly? No clue what that meant. But

    there were try-outs, like the Arbites had, but a helluva lot more tryin. Lotta runnin, some shootin,

    some huntin and another written bit. It was all about xenos and daemons n junk. Thank Zerksabove I did horrificallyon it, since the fellas who scored too high got carted off. Never saw their

    faces round these parts ever again.

    But yeah, I won. Not surprised though, an Ollifix can do anythin they set their mind

    to. Cept maybe Rex. That dumbass.

    Our squads got a funny name though, one I actually need to practice to remember.

    Inquisitor Voltmournes Retinue: Ordo Malleus-Xenos Task Force Acolytes Kappa 9.

    That sounds about right.

    First Mission:

    Just finished with the first interrogation. Had to make sure they got the full story outta

    me. No detail left out. Shit. Ill give Voltmourne one thing. Hes thorough. They sat me down in a

    room that looked like a torture chamber. Sharp things, pointy things, tubes, needles. I shudder

    rememberin it all. He didnt use em all. Only a couple. And a psyker too, just to double check

    his work. That fucker dicked with my head somehow. Bastid did somethin. I dont feel safe n my

    own skin no more, bleck, and my head, sweet Emprah - I shudder to think about it. But here we

    go, the story, fer posteritys sake.

    Mission started. Me and a coupla others hopped on a ship headed for the drop point.

    Id love to be more specific but, shit, I dont think I was ever told. It was a hive. Densely

    populated, tall buildins, the works.

    On the ship, was: Myself, with only my shotgun, a laspistol, a flak vest and the skull a

    my baby (and my beatin stick); A preacher, Pious Augustus, a thin little man covered in what

    looked like burn scars or somethin, but he dont like hed seen a decent day in a decent fight; A

    bolta bitch, Canta, clad in some pretty snappy armor, packin a decent arsenal, always hummin

    somethin; and our Inquisitor, Voltmourne, a dark-skinned, jowlier man, with a decent number a

    scars across his face and a tuft a white hair on his head.

    We landed amongst the hustle-n-bustle of Hive life and checked out the first stop on our

    list. The Medicaes. Fancy doctors office. But man, the moment I stepped in there, I regretted

    ever becomin an Acolyte.

    Corpses. Bodies. Cadavers. Whatever ya wanna call em. No fingers, toes, teeth, nothin.

    All neatly cut up. Like a doctor did it. A good one. All laid out on the floor in little rows. Gives me

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    the shivers just thinkin about em.

    Then the doctor came around. All clean n fresh. Not like whoever butchered those poor

    souls. He had a bionic eye. It had a pretty neat blue light that almost made him seem like a nice

    guy. Yknow, without the bodies all round.

    Pious did some talkin with the dude, while Canta broke out some fancy writing

    equipment and was takin notes or doin somethin. Iunno, shes a weird one. For a Sister of

    Battle, anyway.

    I just sorta watched and waited for somethin interestin to happen. And fate didnt hold

    back. We heard some gunshots n some hollerin from outside.

    I was first out the door, with Canta takin up my 6 and Pious dawdling behind.

    All I remember from the incident was some lunatic, a Commissar or somethin, a lady one,

    screamin n shootin at her own men. Shit was crazy. Well, it woulda been crazier if those same

    men didnt walk n talk like the livin dead. And, as we soon found out, they kinda sorta were.

    Streets cleared out, a fuggin ghost town now, the smart ones headin for the hills when

    Commissar...Zen? I think it was? started firin. And naturally, Zens gun jammed and these

    zombie-folk were still on her. And because we were close enough to her. On us too.

    Then that was when I really saw my team. Their true colors. Useless is a color, right?

    Because it was all over their faces.

    I personally nailed a few of those goopy-zombie-troops myself, with my trusty ol shotgunfrom the days back on the farm. Could down a family a Grox without needin a reload. Trusty ol

    girl. Meanwhile, Canta took a few shots and I thought, Sweet Emprah, they really took the

    Battle outta Battle Sisters, didnt they? and preacher-boy musta pissed of his guns spirit since

    it done exploded the first time he took a shot. That was his battle wound. I took a good shot to

    the arm myself, but at least I earned it. But that shot was all it took to make me realize Damn.

    That Bolta Bitch would make a great shield. and stored that in the backa my head for later use.

    So we saved the Loonie-ssar and went back to the doctors place, Pious was tellin her

    all about his day or somethin on the way there.

    We entered the fine establishmenta his and I braced myself for the smell-a-death

    again. And it was gone. All the bodies. Gone. No blood, no evidence. Only a half-automaton

    fella cleanin the floor. Shit. Now this lady must think were the crazy ones.

    The only place he could be is behind either: A locked door that a bullet wont pass

    through, (I tried), or down a stairway. Which is dark and really creepy. Little Miss Commissar

    voted to stay upstairs and press-gang us down the stairs. How valiant. But on the way down, I

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    remember hearin a distinct scratching behind that door I tried to shoot down. Not what I wanted

    to hear. And down the stairs wasnt somethin I wanted to see.

    Well, in all honesty, I couldnt see, it was dark save for a little blue light in the dark. Like

    a flame. But blue.

    It was Ashur, the doctor, and told us we shouldnt turn the lights on. He told us we

    shouldnt. And given the fact that death-smell was back, I was fine with the lights off. But

    naturally that dumb-fuck of a preacher was making his way to the lights so I made with my plan

    from earlier. Hide behind the beautiful-by-way-of-desperation bolta bitch and her wonderful

    bulky armor.

    I was prepared to shoot. Hell I cocked my shotgun and was crouched behind Canta, my

    back to her calf. I was scared.

    And the lights went on.

    I just turned and shot. Body reactin before the mind could catch up. I whipped around Cantas

    pointy calves and loosed a slug at where the light was. And I missed. I was close though. Real

    close.

    It was Ashur and he looked like he had been badly hurt. And around us, were some

    fancy medical tables with the same bodies from upstairs, one to a bed, on em. A few looked

    worse than before. Mutilated still, but by a clean hand.

    Its noteworthy to say Ashur was holdin some sorta weirdly-made knife. Itll be important

    later.

    Pious talked some more while I took in the scenery. Yknow, Im glad I didnt head

    Forensics like I wanted. But hell, maybe if I did I wouldnt be so creeped out by the stiffs on the

    tables. And before I knew it, we were headed back up the stairs, and we took Blue-Eye with us.

    At gunpoint.

    And whaddya know, Zen, our loopy sentinel, was gone. Meanin somethin coulda just

    waltzd in that door, came down the steps and shot us in the backs and wed be none the wiser.

    Shew. But the worst thing about it? Her guns and gear were still there. She seemed a bit too

    trigger-happy to be without a gun. Shew I bet she showered with her guns and dumped with her

    guns and...Ill stop there. Theres too many uses for the barrel of a gun than Id like to picture a

    woman like that utilizin.

    We ran back to the doctors office to find him, back upstairs, seemingly watin fer our

    return. Weird. So Pious long-windedly told him what wed been up to in the past 15 minutes and

    that itd also be great if he could patch up his hand. He let me explain whyhe needed patchin

    up. He caught a glimpse of my wound too, and I let the preacher get helped first, yknow, just in

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    case the doctor was a basket-case as well. Luckily fer us, he wasnt. The fella also made

    mention of how things like that dont bleed like you n me. Theyre different. He said they bleed

    weird and needed to see Canta bleed like he saw us.

    Dude was creepin me out like no tomorrow then. Canta agreed to the blood-lettin. And I

    wish I didnt have my head up my ass at the moment or I woulda jumped in to say somethin.

    He gave Canta his knife. The weird one from before. She took off er glove and made a

    quick cut across her palm.

    Before she could get a smart-word out. She collapsed.

    Hit the ground like a Grox with a hangover.

    And then she started to seize.

    And I dont know bout yall, but when one-a your friends starts shiverin n shudderin on

    the ground, the last thing you can do is be rational. I fuggin snapped at the doctor and

    shook im til he was shakin faster than Canta was. He just pointed to where his doctors tools

    were and I through him to the ground, didnt care if I stepped on him between then and now,

    grabbed the kit and ran back.

    On the sprint back I peeled the metal case away from the supplies inside like it was a

    fruit back home, and tore at the packaging of the only thing that looked like a cure in the whole

    kit. A needle fulla somethin. As I burst back into the room with the resta my party, Ashur gave a

    slurred holler that sounded like a bit of Yes, Thats the one, Quick, get it in her and Im

    pretty sure you broke my hip when you threw me. Pansy.

    Shew, I almost tripped over my own two feet when I was clamberin to my knees to get

    along-side Canta. And Im sure what I did wasnt what Ashur would call Medically sound. but I

    jammed that fuggin needle in the big, throbby vein in Cantas neck and pressed that plunger

    like I was pluggin a leaky barrel.

    She heaved and hacked, but she finally came to. Thank the powas that be. The Emprah

    was watchin one-a his brides this day. Naturally, Canta and Is collective reaction was WHY

    THE FUCK DID YOU DO THAT!?!. Its like we were cycle-buddies.

    We got Canta to her feet and she said she heard old voices while she was seizin and

    writhin around like a bog-snake caught in a gators mouth. A bit weird I reckon, but we were all

    yellin when she was goin down so who knows?

    And before we could rip The Doctors stupid face off, he pointed us in the direction of

    another dame he said might help us get to the bottom of those goop-soldiers.

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    If memory served, we went to a church next. We went to meet another preacher.

    Because Emprah knows we need anotherone-a their kind in our party.

    Somethin bout that there Abbey didnt sit with me well. Nope. Yknow what it was?

    Guards. They had guards standin round the doors to the church. Now I dont know bout yall,

    but back on Cyrus-Vulpa, we didnt mix our holy places and our heavily armed. Not to say theydont allow weapons in church back home, since everyone and their mothers got some kinda

    firearm on them on that world.

    But so when we approached the fellas at the door and asked to go in, they denied us.

    And not just a No maam, it was all broken and choppy. Not like drunken choppy, but like bad

    hologram choppy.

    And they were sweatin.

    And it wasnt just sweat, its like they were sweatin clay. Its like they were meltin on us.

    One-a the fellas started thankin us for bein here to save them but before we could

    make sense-a the situation, the other guard whipped out his Bolt Pistol and done blown the

    other fellas arm clean off. But not before ol Canta cuts his other arm clean off, like a warm knife

    through butter. Or in this here case, clay.

    We proceeded to beat the Emprahs fury into the one who shot his buddy, but sadly, we

    couldnt do anythin to save the other fella who got his arm blown off for askin fer help. Pious

    prayed to the Emperor and we went inside.

    And then, shit done got real.

    In retrospect, I wish we had found the little lady-preacher we were sent to find. Instead,

    we found somethin straight out of H.P. Warpcraft.

    We entered the chapel. Today was not my day for enterin nice buildins.

    The walls were alive. Well here, Ill steal somethin from Pious journal for how it looked.

    Hes wordsier than I am:

    The doors open with a creak, as if the hinges have been rubbed down with mud. The interior is

    horrendous, it was clearly not meant for mortal eyes; it'd be dark if not for burning tapestries that had caught

    fire from fallen candle-posts. What was once an elaborate room, sanctioned by the Ecclesiarchy for his holy

    majesty, The God-Emperor's worship; is now tarnished by the hand of the alien. The ground is covered in a

    semi-vicousious sludge that writhes as if it's sentient. Corpses line the floor, being melded with and propped

    about by hands of sludge into forming "living things". We saw Major Zen being flayed alive by the substance,

    crawling into her mouth and popping out her eyes before enveloping her and dragging her into the sludge.

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    In the far back of the room, most blasphemous of all, and staring at us all with a single, large,

    unblinking red eye; is the creature. A hive mother, a brooder, a beast in heat and bent on devouring the bodies

    of man. There is no proper word in the tongues of the Imperium for this monstrosity. It sits atop a statue that

    has fallen, one made in the image of the Emperor. I have this horrible feeling that it's smiling at me. That it's

    laughing at me. That it knows something I don't know. And that it is already too late to save anyone.

    It lurches forward a little, a twisted female visage being pulled over the large red eye. The pupil, black

    and yellow, switches from socket to socket. And it is smiling, but with a mouth that drips with slime and

    blood. A ripple in the sludge reaches the corpse of the Major, bringing it up from the ground like some twisted

    marionette. "You." It says. "You. Were not. Here. Not as planned. Not as. Told."

    "Mansflesh." It says, there is almost some horrific form of jubilation in it's 'voice'. "Inquisitor. That is a

    word. She. Knows. I know. You will. Serve." Mariasha's jaw is half broken off her face and dripping with the

    waxy goop. And as she talks, it's a horrendous sight.

    As annoying as that man is, hes got a gift for words, Ill give im that. But boy-howdy, wehauled our asses outta that chapel faster than any land-vehicle could take us.

    Id like to note that gettin from the Abbey to the Medicae was a lot easier than it shoulda

    been. Didnt see a soul. Not a single lady or fella to block our way. Its like the little critters back

    on Cyrus-Vulpa: The closer the storm, the farther the critters.

    And Emprah-have-mercy, there isnt once today where enterin a buildin didnt gross us

    out or threaten our lives and tradition held true this time.

    And there he was, just sittin on the steps, Ashur, covered in blood and what not. Still

    livin, though he popped his creepy bionic-blue-eye out this time, special for us. We were

    honored. And behind the eye wasnt just yknow, socket or tissue or even blood, nope, just a

    weird sorta haze around the hole. And in the other hand was that weird seizure-inducing knife.

    Looked like he was about to propose to that thing when we walked in.

    Him and Pious threw down, verbally of course and the good doctor didnt turn out to

    be a good doctor at all. He started mentioning a Rogue Trader named Algernon and being in

    leagues with him, he started mentioning the weird alien things, its like he was a man about to

    die confessin his sins to the Emprah with hopes of salvation.

    Mind you, he still admitted to bein unruly folk. A heretic. And sayin he had some partin whats turned this place upside down. And when Pious started bringing up the guards, the

    townsfolk, the children, hell I started gettin mad.

    The doctor was bein pretty vague. More vague than I think Pious liked. So I helped.

    I put my shotgun to his forehead. And hell, I still remember his exact words.

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    "I am not the one who was judge. I was merely executioner. Anonymous. My role was

    determined by greater things than I, my purpose was to follow suit. And I did." He lit up a

    smoke. I am allegedly happy enough to be so enlightened as to find joy in such a purpose.

    Grim as it may be to you. He took a drag. The smoke came out his nose, his eye-hole and hell,

    even the cuts on his body. "It didn't all go as planned, but I played my part to the best of myabilities. I will die, a happy man. As happy as I can be."

    In the words-a my mother What the fucking fuck. He didnt even feel badabout anythin.

    That warp-junk, xeno-shit, whatevermusta been in him for a long time if he wasnt even human

    enough to feel badabout the innocent folk he killed. The children. Shew, I was ready to pull the

    trigger right then and there.

    But I waited. I looked back at Pious for the signal. He nodded. Close enough to a signal,

    I figured.

    Ka-blam. Ashurs head now had enough room for me to put my arm through, hoist him

    onto my shoulder and use his body as a tote bag. I didnt, but I couldve.

    Weirdest thing though. After the gun went off we heard somethin. Somethin from the

    vents. Scratchin. Then shriekin. Personally, I wanted to go check it out, but by the time I

    reloaded, Pious was screamin over the noise and runnin in the opposite direction.

    Clerics. Cant live with em, cant live without-well...we could, but Id rather not be the

    talker. And I doubt little-miss-notebook over there wouldnt like to socialize any more than shed

    like to eat bees. Which isnt fun. Personal experience. Short story: Rex is a sonuvabitch and

    bees aint filled with no honey. Only stingers.

    So when we all regroup outside the late doctas office, we have a group huddle and

    decide we need to call in the big guns and get that place nuked. And naturally, the best way to

    call in the heavies would be with a voxcaster or somethin along those lines. And naturally were

    in a place that doenst like too much communication with the outside world n all. And naturally

    the place we are is pretty damn holy, Canta having grown up there n all. So naturally the only

    voxcaster for miles and miles happens to be in thatAbbey. Whoop-de-fuggin-doo.

    We headed back, against our better judgement, mind you. That bein said n all, we

    let Pious take the lead so ifanythinbad happened, Bolta Bitch n I would at least have a few

    seconds notice.

    And there they were. Those guards-fellas still layin there, not like they had much else to

    do, I know, but still, its nice to know whatevers in that Abbeydidnt gobble them up whole. Well,

    whole minus an arm or two. Yall know what I mean.

    Anywho, Pious got to his accustomed position, his knees, and started rifling through the

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    poor souls corpses. A little lady like myself finds the idea a lil skeevy, but yknow what they

    say Waste not, want not. That being said, when I started to hear the squishin of Pious grubby

    little preachers hands sloshin around the clay bits and the pulpy parts, I had to avert my eyes

    for a quick second. So I looked up towards the heavens, thinkin about what my Zerks would

    say if he saw me now; His lil sugarblossom takin lives, solvin crimes n punishin the wicked.

    And then SPLAT!Right on my forehead. Normally, Id blame the foul fowls fer the gift my

    forehead hath received and then I reckoned ...There aint no fowls round these parts... and

    focused my gaze.

    Top wind-a. Stained glass. Somethin red n pulsatins drippin from the-OH LORDY ITS

    THE THING. I shook like a dog-gone-through-bogwater. The bloody-drippy-thumpin-mass flew

    off my forehead but dammit, no matter how hard I shook, no matter how I angled myself, I still

    felt it there. On me. In me. Shee-it.

    My panic-dance seemed to grab the partys attention. They made the connection when

    they saw a few more drips from that dang window. When I was done trying to shed my forehead

    from my body, I whipped out the ol shotty and took aim at the window, just in time to see a

    humanoid-human-lookin thingtap on the glass. Mockin me. Mocking me.

    You best believe I shot at that thingthat done mocked me.

    Direct hit, glass, blood, goop everywhere. The thinggot knocked back.

    Pious, finally growin a brain in all that hair-a-his, just grabs a gun from the damned guard

    and fires at the same thing in the same window. Its a Emprah-damned bolter. I forgot all about

    it.

    Fire. Fire juts from the window, knockin out even more glass and that thingscreams. It

    screams a scream that chills ya right to the bone. It aint human, it aint animal, it aint natural. It

    just aint natural.

    Now this things gettin smart, it aint about to take no more-a-that priests shit no more.

    The chapel doors fly open and a little-girl-that-aint-no-little-girl starts callin to us.

    As if it were second nature, Canta puts herself between me and the little-girl-that-aint-

    no-little-girl, leavin Pious high n dry.

    Girl power.

    Canta fires a few rounds with her las into the open door, tryin draw its stupid-ass out.

    And whaddya know? it worked.

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    The girl-thingpops out.

    CLICK-BANG!

    I fired. Hit that bitch right in the face. It screamed that scream again.

    Pious shut it up.

    Pious unleashed a barrage of prolly-not-aimed explosive bolts at the she-creature and

    the chapel itself.

    It hit. It hit hard.

    The chapel started burnin. Not just any sorta candle-fallin-over fire. Nope. It started

    collapsin in a pile of holy stone. That thing screamin the whole time. And then it hit us.

    The voxcasters still in there.

    Shit.

    Against any sorta survival instinct or real reasonin we rushed inside, Canta leadin the

    way, myself in middle and Pious, his nervous-face plastered on.

    The buildin burned. The creature screamed. The buildin was collapsin. And Canta was

    leading us into a basement. Honestly? Prolly not the best place ta be in this scenario, but Ill

    trust her. Bein my human shield n all.

    We practically fell down a stone staircase but made it to the comm-room. Oh thank The

    Emprah above. Pious and I ran like hell to sign in and start makin our get-away calls, resultin in

    a very surprised Voltmourne comin on screen, only to be greeted by two blood-drenched small-

    folk, screamin n wavin while the fires ragin and the things screamin.

    I backed off for the moment, talkin is Pious job anyway. He rang for backup, evac and

    clean up.

    Long story short, evac team picked us up, rushed us outside, got us onto the ship we

    came here on and we were still close enough ta feel the heat of the blast that destroyed the

    Abbey and the surroundin area.

    We got back and the interrogation started. I mentioned that already.

    Good news? 1000 Gold Thrones and a promotion. One-Thousan Gold Thrones n a

    promotion to Regulator. Thats two promotions in one.

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    Suck it Rex. Suck. It.

    Purchases n Damage Report:

    Spent the money already. Its been only a few days an its already gone. Mind ya, I didnt

    just blow it all on hookers n amasec, but I put it to fair use. Armor. Carapace. Almost a full settoo! All thas left is a helmet. Somethin every soldier learns they need early on, cept this one

    apparently. Shew, it aint like I wasted it. Sure, I coulda bought-a helmet but I picked me up a

    micro bead instead. Its also worth mentionin I picked up a Hand Flamer and Shock Maul. Hand

    flamer cause: the next time I see anythin like that goopy-sonuvabitch, Ima roast em. Shock

    Maul cause Im an Arbite. Unwritten standards. You know.

    After what happened in that last place, Schola-somethin, learnd the name after the fact,

    I never wanna be without commuincatin to the outside world ever again.

    But now fer the less happy side-a this entry. That damn feelin on my forehead.

    Hasnt gone away, man, I can still feel it, like its under the skin n it wont leave me alone

    man. Ill see what can be done about it, but until then Ill wander around a bit, get my bearins.

    City-life aint nothin like agri-life, shew, all the hustle n bustle, gangers, criminals, preachers on

    every corner. Crazy, man, crazy.

    Doctors n Discoveries:

    Well, I saw the medicae today, ourmedicae, about that feelin under my skin. Fella told

    me to wear it as a badge-a-honor. Fightin the good fight against them xenos-warp-things or

    whatever. But shew, it was drivin me crazy.

    He dismissed me. It wasnt like he didnt care or anythin, he just didnt know whatta do

    about it. Said it was probably nothin, just a skin irritation caused by that thing.

    But that night, I went and tried a couple-a things. Wet rags, pain-killas, hell even cuttin a

    little bit off the top. Nothin. So I just put my head to a dang wall and was bout-ta give up, and

    then...I didnt feel it. Nothin. The wrigglin n jigglin. Gone. The moment I took my head offa the

    wall, bang, like a wave, it came back.

    So I smacked my forehead into the wall again. Gone. Took it away. Wrigglin. Off. Gone.

    On. Wrigglin. I done gotten idea!

    On the way to the medicaes now. Its a decent walk. Gives me time to write.

    The New Look:

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    Well, I did it. I done gotta steel plate bolted to my forehead. Wrigglins are gone n its a

    bitch to move my brows, but Ill manage.

    The plates a sorta triangle, point facin down, but with the otha sides squared off. So its

    more of a...an upsigh-down pentagon sorta? Its somewhere tween the two. Yall can picture it

    Im sure.

    Canta came to see me durin recovery. Strange, I know! Her visit seemed just as much

    as a learn sperience as it did friendly droppin-in. Jottin down things I said about why I went

    and done it, what it felt like, why I thought this was the best option. Shew, I was jus still in shock

    she came to visit. She didnt seem like the social-sort.

    We went out for drinks later. Well, I drank, Canta just sorta got what I got and broke out

    a lil kit-a-somethin, some strips n such, and testedthe drink first. Then went-n ordered a

    couple more drinks, different ones, n tested them too. Shew if we didnt just get paid she might

    gone broke buyin all those drinks. Not that she drank em er anythin.

    But all-n-all, it was a decent evenin out, just-the-girls. A bit quiet, a bit entertainin, the

    dames probably a shut-in-mental-case but I like er, I like er.

    Second Mission pt.1:

    Easiest. Mission. Ever. Let me tell you. Were on our way back ta base to drop off our

    catch before turnin round and gettin the other one.

    Right, lemme fill yall in.

    Day started as usual, get up, bathe, dress, walk round fer a spell, and then we get a

    message from Voltmourne sayin hes got another job fer us all, a follow-up of sorts.

    We gather in his office, the old gangs all here. Canta n I have seen each other a decent

    amount since our first mission. Bars mostly. But I aint seen Pious since. Thought he was dead.

    Oh well. We can dream.

    So, basic mission run-down. Algernon, that Rogue Trade-a the doctor, the one-eyed

    one, Ashur, mentioned is dockd here on Gunmetal City n Voltmournes been doin errythin in

    his power to keep it that way, but now he needs evidence. Thats our job.

    Two men is all he needs, and hes got the where-abouts for em both, savin us the time

    n effort. First man Argyle: mutant, hunchback, possible-heretic with a loud mouth, and hes a

    preacher. That last bits good enough to shoot em dead in my mind. Second fella Boondoggle:

    gladiator, undefeated, sounds like a hard sonuvabitch.

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    We were dismissed and took a group vote of who to pursue first. Unanimous decision:

    Argyle. Weird, huh? Ya think Id pick the fighter first, right? Well I figure there may be a mid-job-

    Throne-bonus if we brought him in first. There wasnt. But shew at least we got one down.

    We landed in a crowd-a folk, fanatics really, all swarmed around some fella on a box,

    preachin n carryin on. It was the lower hives, which Id learnd had a ton-a these box-preachers. Luckily for us and our feet, this was the fella.

    Uglier in person really. Hunchbackd, spine showin, face lookin all sad, Aquila tattoo

    where my steel-plate was. Weird thing though, he had a staff n on that staff was a fella, n not

    just any fella, one of those clay fellas. That had me reachin fer my weapons.

    Pious was the one to actually grow a pair and call-out this Argyle-dude. In fronna

    everyone. A crowd-a-folk who supported this Argyle n his beliefs. Personally, I call stupidity

    ova bravery in this case. That bein said, the argument got heated. Religious mumbo-jumbo,

    fine-a details of the sacred scripture n such.

    As the crowd started closin in, Canta n I assumed our positions, me doggin her calves,

    crouched, but with my new Hand Flama at the ready. Parta me just wanted to take a test-shot,

    yknow, clear out the crazies in the lower hives. But I held my trigga.

    And just when it seemed like Cantas fiery zeal and my fiery...fire would be needed, it

    was over. It was over.

    Through words n words alone, Pious got this big fella on his knees. Shit.

    So we gave him a standard Deatrix-gun-to-the-back escort back to the ship where wesafely dropped him off as Voltmournes feet.

    And like I said: No mid-job-Throne-bonus. Aw well. Colosseum time.

    Second Mission pt.2:

    Second part of our second mission. It-it didnt go so well. Our target, Boondoggle

    known as The Oculous around those parts was taken down. Killed. So mission complete.

    But the fuggin cost to do so...I dont even wanna talk about the cost. What that thing,

    that fuckerput us through to take him down. The only good parta all this bein Voltmourne trusts

    us enough to tell the fuggin truth, the whole truth and nothin but the truth. Without the torture

    machines.

    Here, Ill just shut up and start tellin the mission:

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    Overconfident from our quick capture of Argyle, we sped to the Colosseum, figuring

    this Boondoggle fellow wasnt any tougher. It never once hit us that you dont stay undefeated

    by dyin a whole lot.

    We landed and were greeted by a short, little pumpkin of a man who assumed we were

    here to drop a few thrones as bets on the fight, so he was pretty shocked that an Arbite, apriest, and a woman who looked like she spent more time in a library than a shooting range,

    wanted to fight this Oculous fella.

    We saw him rip apart dudes on the holo-screen above the stadium. Masked. Probably to

    avoid all the attention or vengeance-seekers after the match, I figured. Probably.

    The battle wasnt tournament-ian, so we just sorta picked who we wanted to fight and

    were pitted up against em like that. Convenient. Yeah. Sure.

    We were lead into a sorta waitin room area, ringside but more underthe ring. It was just

    mostly a bench, a small cache-a extra weapons and a few beatin-dummies. Then the screen

    came down.

    We saw this fella. Black skin. Maybe burnt black. Tentacle tattoos on his neck and the

    edges of his mask. The mask only had one large eye-hole, covered, no mouthranythin. A bit

    weird. Didnt know they made masks like that. But mind you, we saw him on a screen that

    dropped down in fronna us. He saw us too.

    We exchanged some harsh words. Fightin words. And the screens went up, the gates to

    the ring opened and we were walkin out to the ring before we heard the screens set themselves

    back into place.

    I got that sorta effect you get from goin from a really dark place to a really bright one.

    Spotlights all around, crowd cheerin, cheerin ferhim actually. I didnt like that. I didnt like bein

    the underdog from the start, so I hammd it up a bit. Death threats, sayin Id turn this fella inta a

    pair-a-boots, size 9, my size. Pious also threw somethin in, and as expected, Canta was silent.

    At this point we all had hands on our weapons, cept myself. I had my Shock Maul drawn and

    pointed at the fella, proclaimin his doom.

    The battle starts. We run for cover. Theres a few chest-high-walls to hide behind.

    Pious shot first. And shit, Ive actually gotta praise the little hiver for it. He shot good.

    While he was runnin his holy ass ta cover, he loosed some quick warnin fire that

    actually turned into tellinfire. 4 hits with his auto-pistol. Dead on.

    First gottim in the shoulder. Secon nailed cracked his stupid-ass helmet and threw im

    off balance. Teach that dope whose boss round these parts. Third, right through his fancy-

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    schmancy body-armor. Pinkish-reddish junk shot out. Huh. That aint blood...Fort shot nailed

    one-a that fuckers grenades on his band-a-lier. Gas. Smoke. Posion started shootin out.

    Aint never been prowda that preacher before, but thins just might start changin.

    And then, from the smoke, like a fuggin ragin cheetah, burstin from the tall grasses tochase down its prey, The Oculous showd is true colors.

    Purple, mainly. From a distance, terrifying. Hed either taken his dumb mask off in the

    smoke or it finally broke off, but yknow, now I wish it didnt.

    As it ran towad the preacher, I gotta betta look at im. Daemon fer sure. Neva saw one

    til this day, but it fit the stories ya tell children who like ta wander round the fields at night. A

    daemonll eatcha up n leave the bones. This fella looked like he wouldnt even give ya that

    mercy. Large black eyes, like fuggin miniature voids with beady white pupils; skin lookin all

    dead, purple n flayed; throbbin veins and a mouth that looked more like like Auntie Crees knife

    drawer than a mouth fulla-teeth.

    Now was when Id step in for the preacher. First time I think. And shew, now I wonder

    why I did. He was gettin closer. Hed hafta pass me to get to Pious, and my Shock Maul was

    already out from that doom proclaimin I did before the fight. So I reeld back and swung at that

    dumb, inbred, revoltin hog-faced fucker with all I had in me.

    It was like it was happenin in slow motion.

    A tongue tha size-uva workin mans arm whippd outta its knife-drawa mouth.

    It caught the swing. It caughtthe Shock Maul. In its tongue.

    Then, without missin a beat. It looked into my eyes. Into my very Emprah-damnd bein.

    What I saw next is the same thing that I keep dreamin bout since. Nightmares. Havent

    been able to shake em, so this next bits gonna be reaaalllaccurate.

    I saw Zerks. Good ol Zerks. Hadnt seen him so clearly in foreva it seemd. So I walkd

    towards him, arms out, walkin turnin to runnin and just before I got ta hug my man one more

    time, razors. Thousands of em poked their way out. Still in him, mind ya, who knows how deep

    they went. But then, they all move. SLASH. Hes a million, million pieces. Blood everywhere. I

    start cryin from seein my man be subject to such pain. Then, shew, then Im in my own sorta

    pain.

    My baby. My real one. The still-born. I could suddenly feel im kickin round inside me.

    The kickin gets worse and worse and fasta and fasta until it just bursts outta me like an Emprah-

    damnd shotgun. Oh Emprah. Emprah Ive aint never felt so much pain in mah life, eva.

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    Then...then the bits-a-baby start formin to make somethin. Congealins the right word.

    The clay-gelatin bits make an unholylil blob. The blob starts makin its way towards me. Still

    the size-a two-a my fists put togetha, but I couldnt move. I was paralyzed.

    It was gettin closer n closer. Made it way ta my feet. And I realized Shew, I aint got anyclothes on, so when the thingstarted slitherinup my leg. I felt it. I felt it like the fuggin thing

    that dripped on mah forehead. It kept travelin upward, bein sure to hit places only my Zerks

    could hit. It kept on goin, up my body. Felt as fragile n as helpless as a baby bird wit a broken

    wing. It made its way to my throat n chin n face n mouth. Somuva it lodged itself up mah nose

    and the rest shoved its way down my wind pipe n just sat there. Expandin. It was chokin me.

    My baby. What was my baby was chokin me. And there wasnt a damn thing I could do about it.

    I woke up in the medicae. The one back in our base. On a medical bed. People ova me.

    Doctors, nurses, other fellas pokin n proddin me with whateva they seemed to find. Takin

    samples n takin fluids. Cuttin lil bits, usin needles to get others. It felt wrong. So

    fundamentalleh wrong. Sure, it was just a routine post-mission checkup, but now...now it just felt

    like they were stealin from me. Doctors, nurses, the lotta them. Stealin from me.

    I remember pushin everyone aside, or at least tryin and tryina take out everythin they

    had in me. They put a mask over ma mouth n I was down again.

    Woke up again, mah own bed this time. Canta had visited. How do I know? She leffa

    copy of a bitta her own personal logs for me to stick in mine. I figure its from the time that thing

    gave me visions to the present day.

    It reads:

    A daemon. Anger unfurling, then all consuming. With all the anger of the Emperor, I attacked.

    I felt unstoppable. BURN THE HERETIC! PURGE THE UNCLEAN! I speared it as deeply in its

    chest as possible, then again in its filthy, Chaos tainted mouth. It came back up, threw me aside, charged

    Pious...Did something to them both. Dear Deatrix. Poor Pious. If anything could anger me further, it was

    seeing them hurt. My mission was to protect them, shield them.

    I failed them both that day, much to my shame. And that daemon was the cause. With all the rage given

    me by the Emperor and his righteous power, I charged him one last time. Never has such a horrid smell

    seemed so delicious.

    When I calmed down, I went to Pious first, since he was bleeding out. Why do those in pain wish to

    thrash and make things worse? Still, Im glad he could hear me scold him and calm down. Deatrix...was

    beyond hearing. I used her microbead to call Voltmourne and then waited, trying to soothe my friends to

    help at last arrived.

    So Canta saved us, huh? Quiet, ol Canta. Bookworm n anti-socialite. Shew. That last

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    mission was just riddld with the unesspected.

    Fillin in the Gaps:

    Well, in tha time since I woke up, heres what Ive pieced together. Ive been promoted to

    Investigatorand got 500 Thrones put in my account. Both of which Im completely fine with.Cantas been deemd a Champion and got some newer, fancier powa-armor for it, along with a

    fuggin chainswordand a re-gilded, polished staff with the skull-a The Oculous mounted on it

    along with the ol symbol of the Eccleisiarchy. And Pious gotta new arm. Bionic. Hes replaced

    more than just the hand lost in the fight with the daemon. Which he described as pretty dang

    brutal:

    Its arms shifted into tentacled claws that sucked the blade into some natural armament. It tackles me and

    holds my throat to the ground, blade raised in the air. The Daemon's face then takes the form of my own visage and

    smiles wickedly. "Mortal. Dream. Dream of dark, beautiful things. Dark beautiful things that are the destiny of this

    world." The daemon's face then melts into a series of ooze-like droplets and it stabs the blade deep into my right wrist,

    twisting and severing the hand.

    Were all goin out for drinks tonight. Celebratory n such.

    All bein Canta n I, n Pious musta figured he was one-a the girls n invited himself. What

    can I say? He shot that daemon better than I did, he deserves a drink.

    The Afterparty:

    The night out went...different. N thats to say the least. I personally can barely

    remember a thing cause that bartenda wasnt about to make all them drinks a secon time so

    Canta can play scientist n leave em for him to clean up.

    We also discovud that Piouss a sad drunk. Afta a few drinks he was goin on n on about

    not bein pure no more since that daemon attack. And shew, in fronna everyone, whipped out

    one-a them Electro-flails from his new bionic arm n startd whippin himself fer everyone ta see.

    Hopefully, all that was wuz a bad reaction to a lotta drinkin. Hopefully.

    And from what I can piece togetha, Canta touched me. A pat on tha back er somethin

    and shewall the feelins I felt durin that vision n my nightmares came back. At once.

    That Emprah-damned daemon did somethin to me. Fucked wit me somehow. And

    Emprah-be-damnd if I dont go n do somethin bout it.

    Human Speriment:

    I turned mahself into a lab speriment. By my own choice, mind ya. Canta bein the

    scientist r the closest thin to one n the only other lady Im conversational with. If ya wanna call

    it conversation.

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    We tried a coupla things. The idea was to see if we could, in her words Replicate the

    previous sensations felt during the sleep-or-touch induced psychosis-episodes to determine if

    the sensations are derived from rearranged nerve clusters or youre pants-on-head crazy.

    We tried sharp thins, dull thins, hot thins n cold thins. Lectricity, fire, cottons, silks,acids. N this was everywhere on my dang body. Hence, why Id prefer if another propa lady did

    it.

    Found out somethin from it all though, somethin besides the fact Cantas perfectly fine

    seein me in the nude. The weird feelins I got from bein touched were spreadin. The more I got

    touched, the more-a my body the feelins got to. Its like it was expandin, spreadin out with

    each touch, increasin in skeevyness n pain. Like lil critters runnin around under my skin,

    burrowin n stoppin n startin by their own will.

    Im off to the medicae to go do somethin bout this all.

    Tech-Priests r Nice-a than Doctors:

    Its funneh when the doctor starts with Back to get a bigger head-plate?, jokingly a-

    course and youre respon with a serious Yes.

    It took some convincin from the doctor, but the wanderin tech-priests that cant keep

    their noses, er lack-a-noses, outta anythin fer too long helped me strong-arm the doctor inta

    praceedin with the operation. Hell, I even think they helped.

    Like I said afore, I got my head-plate taken off and a bigger one, more of a mask withone-way-mirrah eyes n a series-a-slits fer a mouth. Number-a-reasons really. My faces one-a

    my most fragile places, usually bein unarmored n all, and I figure Im tryina cover every incha

    skin I can to stop that dang feelinfrom creepin any farther than it oughtta.

    Then heres where I spent the big money, and its why Im thankful Im workin under

    Voltmourne. Fella loves bionics, meanin tech-fellas love him, meanin they do bionic

    replacements fer cheap, usually just the costa the parts n junk. They seem happy

    just convertin peoples fleshy, organ-filled bodies to the heap-a metal, bolts, wires, n tubes

    their bodies are becomin.

    So yeah, doctor lopped off my right arm, my gunnin arm, n the techies replaced it with a

    fancy-schmancy new bionic one. Why my gun arm of all arms? Well I figured that I can always

    throw a coupla more upgrades on it. Targettin things, ammo-holders, maybe an ammo-feeder,

    neat things.

    Though I admit, it takes some gettin used to afta-all, so Ive been hittin the gun range

    nearly all-a my wakin hours nve got the standud 2 week adjusment period down to about 4 a

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    5 days.

    Personally, Id ratha not lop off anythin else fer now, despite how helpful havin lessa

    this infectedskin would be, but shew, if I come inta money soon, mad money, I just might get

    tha legs done as well. Itd be a loss to my potential table-dancin days, but right now Id prefer if

    no fella, or lady fer that matter, touched mah gams.

    Bad Thoughts:

    Id realized somethin that daemon took without me even noticin til I thought bout it.

    Somethin no one fella can see on the surface. Somethin deepa. This fuggin affliction.

    I cant...I cant enjoy the touchuva nother human. Eva. No mo high-fives, r hand-holdin,

    r lap-sittin, r arms-ova-the-shouldas...no mo intimiate contact. No mo lovas. Hell I cant even

    bathe without feelin it spreadin.

    Shit. Emprah-fuggin-shit. I dunno if thisll ever go away. Doubt it.

    Im wearin a void-suit round more these days. It aint mine so I gotta give it back to the

    crew-man when he needs it, then I start jus wearin jumpsuits. Anythin that covas everythin.

    Cept my hair. I still love my hair. Reminds me n everyone else Im still a regula gal

    behind the mask n the arm.

    Argyles Interrogation:

    For one reason or another, the Argyle fella, the preachy mutant we captured without afight, hadnt been questioned yet about a lot yet. Voltmourne, bein the actually generous

    gentlemen he is let us interrogate the mutant on his behalf. He trustd wed ask the right

    questions n get what we came for. Meanin he counted on Pious ta ask, Canta ta record, n me

    to sit on my hands n watch. Thats a goodn.

    We entered n there he was, hookd up to a machine, thins goin in-n-outta him, lookin

    like hed been roughed up a bit already. Shew, it madeja almost feel sorry for the fella. N then

    Pious started askin questions.

    I took point bahind the mutant, shotgun to his head, talkin tough shit despite the fact

    that, hell, I was just dilly-dallyin around until someone gave the orda ta shoot. Though a few bits

    n pieces of the interrogation stuck.

    Algernons a bad fella witha lotta connections. Ashur was workin fer him. Rex may r

    may-not-be kidnapped, tha fuggin dumbass. Theres some sorta xenos involved, an Eldar r

    somethin. N theres an implication that those goopy-shits r comin from Algernons ship.

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    At least I know who-ta start aimin my fury at. Algernon. If that rat-bastards behind any-a

    the shit thats makin me mask up, cover up, n start loppin off limbs, fuck duty, Ima skin his

    stupid ass n make him into a cape.

    MIDMISSION REPORT:

    ON LANDER HEADED TO NEW DROP POINT. MAKE THIS QUICK.

    ALGERNON CONFIRMED BAD DUDE. DAEMONS. 2 OF EM. REX GONE.

    ALGERNONS DAUGHTERS. IM DECAYING. OUTSIDE OR INSIDE, CANT TELL.

    VOLTMOURNE DEAD. NEW ONE, AGNI. CRAZY BITCH, POSSIBLE

    OBLATIONIST. LECTRIC CHAIRS. ARMORY. FLYING TO NEXT MISSION.