thesilentinquisitor

[thesilentinquisitor]

[The more I talk about my ideas on Discord, the more tempted I am to let it all loose and reboot Evren has the 100% more Sarkic, 100%-more inhuman and feral, 100% more Lovecraftian than she was. Unleash my dreams. Go stupid, go crazy.

I was talking about making the Weigher of Souls into something like an Eva or a Frame from Warframe - a semi-organic machine with flesh under the panelling, between all the wires and engine bits. When it gets damaged in battles and the armour comes off, it's basically a Tyranid ship with loads of eyes and mouths; fixing it involves taking panelling off and doing surgery on the flesh inside, which is also their life support and sewage treatment system. It's a psyker and sapient, so they communicate with it telepathically, giving it the ability to navigate the Warp by itself (and send messages as an Astropath Choir would). They get the biomass to clone new bodies for the Jackals from specially-grown parts.

Evren's body would be more of a disguise crafted to look like her old self. Her age and power, her dabbling in Sarkicism, has slowly warped her into something less human, something more like Ion or the Emperor. Her real body has to be hidden lest she terrify everyone and get driven out of the Imperium, even by her own nephews and brothers. The Emperor knows what she looks like, of course, but since she puts a human face on, he's willing to let it slide. For now.

She shapeshifts effortlessly, taking on dozens of different guises, and infiltrates the other Legions - and, later, Imperial Guard regiments and even Traitor Legions - as His eyes and ears on the ground. Most of the time she poses as a high-ranking Imperial noble, a diplomat, or a remembrancer. She has dozens of different masks to wear. Her true name isn't well-known outside of the Primarchs, to the point where many Astartes haven't heard of her. Some even believe that the IInd Legion had been purged and ceased to exist, alongside their Primarch. Which suits the Tomb Jackals just fine.

I'd make her less childish and more serious - and try damned harder to play her that way, as I've said so many times before lol - but playing the part of a light-hearted, immature person much like the Doctor does. Both as a way to relieve stress and to get people to underestimate her, and because 28,000 years of life has driven her more than slightly bonkers. But, like Curze, she's a mostly useful kind of bonkers and completely loyal to humanity/the Great Crusade, so the Emperor endures that, too. He gives her a few tools and toys she needs for her mission and sends her off with 13,000 Astartes he was planning to be rid of. As long as she does as she's told, he can excuse most of her... strangeness. And she always does as she's told.

Blah blah blah most of the other stuff would mostly be unchanged, except for trimming down the NPC list and neatening up the mess the Legion hierarchy has become. Add more science even as I add more horror. Make them more Foundation. Blah.]

#[ooc post] #[the toast ghost speaks]

[thesilentinquisitor]

[Sorry for lack of activity here. I've been debating between rebooting Evren again (tiding up her complicated lore, making her more serious and deserving of her roles, etc) which is... always a pain in the butt, and - well, I'll put it bluntly - packing away this whole mess.

On the one hand, I've enjoyed my time roleplaying and I still do, even if I've lost the connection I once had with the muses I play. It seems like a shame to give it all up and leave this community simply because I'm in a bit of a slump. I've been here for literal years and I've made some friends I would otherwise never have met.

On the other hand, I've let my accounts die and I barely talk to anyone here anyway. And starting over, reintroducing muses to each other and sorting out timelines, is a big old fuss. I don't want to become the Flighty One who drops threads all the time, starts things then drops them, and can't seem to stick to one thing for long.

But there are people willing to play in my little sandbox (almost wrote 'sandwich' still) and I don't quite feel like putting away my toys yet...

It's probably no coinkydink that my slump came around the same time as Covid, some family drama stuff, my swiftly approaching 30th year, and me going from part- to full-time at work.

And I do still like Evren And Her Pals, I've got some neat ideas for them, I just need to trim the fat and sort her shit out.]

#[ooc post] #[the toast ghost speaks] #[gotta talk to people i'm still owing oops]

[thesilentinquisitor]

[Pumpkin with small gourd buddies and fancy lights.]

#[ooc post] #[the toast ghost speaks]

[thesilentinquisitor]

[owo what's this?

🦇💀🎃👻Helly Happoween🦇💀🎃👻]

#[ooc post] #[the toast ghost speaks]

[thesilentinquisitor]

[Does anyone else have random days/weeks when you simply can't concentrate on anything?

For the last month or so I can't get my brain to focus or do things I apparently enjoy. I've let my RP blogs die (okay, that's been going on for longer than a month), I haven't played Warframe, I don't even check Flight Rising. I don't do art or read or write. I just skip through Reddit and Tumblr, half-listen to podcasts, and generally sit around feeling all... twitchy and overstimulated inside, but at the same time very dull and tired. While my brain runs around like a crack-addicted weasel, my body apparently doesn't have the energy to even do chores. Or follow up on my cancelled/delayed ADHD assessment.

Which I guess is my way of saying: sorry I've been a terrible RP partner lately, but my brain is just borked. Apparently.]

#[ooc post] #[the toast ghost speaks] #[i haven't dusted my room in like two months RIP]

[thesilentinquisitor]

The fact that her Foundation jargon had soared straight over Hetepheres' head didn't escape Evren in the least. She smiled apologetically, rubbing the back of her neck as she tried to think of a way to explain what she meant that didn't involve so many ten-Gelt words. "Sorry. Technobabble. It's a bad habit of mine. If I start using terms like 'Type Greens', ectoentropic, thaumiel, or hume, feel free to ask me what it means in- in words actual people use."

"To put it simply, it was a place that existed outside of normal space-time and didn't follow the rules of geometry. It was directly underneath the school's swimming pool but, from the pictures I saw, should've extended at least a mile into the air. Which was actually the least strange thing about the whole case..." Evren had to stop herself there; if she continued, she'd only shut up when her jaw rotted off.

Putting her hand down and crossing her arms before she did further damage to her already unhealthy complexion, she continued. "But I digress. Another bad habit of mine. And yes, we never are. Or should that be 'no, we never are'?" Language was confusing. "Ah, but who'd ever want to be normal? I tried being normal once. It was really boring."

Seeing that her attempts at morale boosting were a success cheered Evren in turn. Her confidence boosted by another's confidence in her. She gestured to the team of Tomb Jackal mundies she'd brought with her. "On the unlikely event that something happens to me, just stick with Sergeant Shalyk Baianai over here." A white-haired Jackal carrying a hunting spear nodded a greeting at the sound of his name. "He's been the Legion's best hunter since the Heresy - and the rest of his squad are in the top ten. Stay with them and you'll be fine."

Shalyk smiled modestly. "Ma'am, please. You're making me blush."

"And yes. We should get moving before bits of me start dropping off." Evren replied, scanning the ruins for the best place to start exploring. "Alright, gang, let's split up and search for clues. Sorry." she added, over the groans and eye-rolls; she simply couldn't help herself. "Hetepheres, let's you and I take the... I think this is the front door? Was. Everyone else, space yourselves out and keep an eye open for weak spots in the floor. I don't want to see any broken necks!"

Taking the lead, Evren approached the ruins with a mix of curiosity and caution, dataslate in hand to take pictures and notes.

"So this is the no magic zone. Fucking place gives me the crawls "Auntie. I cannot feel the Great Ocean; and neither can Achilles. Oh fuck me. Good thing we brought the Crushers right deartheart?" The forgemaster stood right in the middle of a pack of Barghests who were big, mean, and appereance-wise had more in common with monsters than dogs. He merely scratched the head of the nearest hound and smiled.

There wasn't much in this world or any other that could send a chill down Evren Anubis' spine, but the words 'no magic zone' turned her blood icy cold the moment they left Akhenaten' lips. She barely suppressed the shiver that threatened to run down her body. Though she wasn't the most dignified or in control, Evren knew her men were looking to her as Legion Commander and gene-mother. Seeing her so openly afraid would be terrible for group morale.

The presence of the Barghests was a comfort, not despite but because of their monstrous appearance. They reminded her of the Hounds of Tindalos and their vatborn cousins. Hundreds of generations created and reared by hand from birth to death.

But her mind was starting to wander. Concentrate.

"Hmm." Evren put on her 'serious anomaly investigator' face and faced the indicated zone with an expression that made her look as if she were struggling through a gale. She put a finger on her lower lip, thought better of it, then planted her hands on her hips. "So. This zone... How much do you know about it? Was it here before you arrived or is it a recent thing? What's the size of it, roughly?"

Behind her, a gaggle of mixed Astartes - those of the Judged and the Jackals who weren't gifted with psyker abilities - either inspected the Barghests from a distance or quietly discussed the wisdom of getting closer to the anti-magic zone. One wondered out loud how long it would be before the Grand Inquisitor smelt Necrons and fled. The slightest hint of necrodermis, they said, and she'd be gone. Evren glared in their direction but had no retort to their pointed truths.

"...and, more importantly, is it gonna make my skin fall off?"

#[evren's reports] #[era: 40k] #akhenaten imhotep

[thesilentinquisitor]

[Continued from here]

The dwindling nature of their party made Evren's earlier concern rear its metaphorical head, but she shoved it down and listened to the nervous young woman speak. Though they'd not yet been formally introduced yet - a fact she found mildly puzzling - the resemblance to her niece indicated that the speaker was either a recipient of the same gene-seed or one of Akhenaten's many, many offspring. Or offspring of her litter. Throne, she was losing track of them all.

Well, maybe five wasn't so many, but it was five more than Evren had - or wanted to have, for that matter. And the Jackal Mother had a few thousand pups to keep track of already, so she couldn't be blamed if a few of her grand-nieces and -nephews slipped her mind.

"Hmm." she hummed. "Sounds like the kind of thing that'd turn up in your, ah, pre-planning stages. The part where they check if the ground is safe to build on and doesn't contain a cave system, a mass grave, or an Heresy-era weapons cache, or what-have-you." Evren waved a hand vaguely; her knowledge of proper architectural terminology was limited. She had people to remember that for her.

Humming again, she scratched her cheek, leaving red, raw marks on her dry skin. "Having said that, the ruins mightn't've been congruent with this plane of reality at the time - possibly in some kind of an extra-temporal, extra-spatial, non-Euclidean space - and were therefore missed. As did the anomalous ruins that appeared below Salvation High School during the week of June 18th, 1976."

Evren continued to ponder on the events of that strange week, possibly the strangest in Indiana's history, as the young woman took care of her sudden phone call. She made a sympathetic noise when she heard Akhenaten was leaving, though inside Evren wasn't sure what her niece had expected to happen. Which was rich coming from someone who literally relied on Warp-energy to live, and currently made Gunner First Class Ferik Jurgen look like a well-moisturised newborn.

The nervous woman's introduction was greeted with a smile as the Grand Inquisitor did her best to memorise this new information. "Pollux's daughter, huh? Throne, and it seems like only yesterday that I met your father as a young man..." The Perpetual shook her head. Before she knew it, this one would be old with grandchildren of her own. "And you're not alone in that. Most of my half-siblings - the Emperor's own blood - didn't inherit a single drop of his magic."

She reached out and patted Hetepheres comfortingly on the shoulder. "Akhenaten might've left, but there's no reason to be afraid. Why?" Evren continued, channeling the spirit of a certain fictional hero. "Because I am here! And whatever's causing this, I've fought bigger and uglier with far less guns on me than I have now."

"So this is the no magic zone. Fucking place gives me the crawls "Auntie. I cannot feel the Great Ocean; and neither can Achilles. Oh fuck me. Good thing we brought the Crushers right deartheart?" The forgemaster stood right in the middle of a pack of Barghests who were big, mean, and appereance-wise had more in common with monsters than dogs. He merely scratched the head of the nearest hound and smiled.

There wasn't much in this world or any other that could send a chill down Evren Anubis' spine, but the words 'no magic zone' turned her blood icy cold the moment they left Akhenaten' lips. She barely suppressed the shiver that threatened to run down her body. Though she wasn't the most dignified or in control, Evren knew her men were looking to her as Legion Commander and gene-mother. Seeing her so openly afraid would be terrible for group morale.

The presence of the Barghests was a comfort, not despite but because of their monstrous appearance. They reminded her of the Hounds of Tindalos and their vatborn cousins. Hundreds of generations created and reared by hand from birth to death.

But her mind was starting to wander. Concentrate.

"Hmm." Evren put on her 'serious anomaly investigator' face and faced the indicated zone with an expression that made her look as if she were struggling through a gale. She put a finger on her lower lip, thought better of it, then planted her hands on her hips. "So. This zone... How much do you know about it? Was it here before you arrived or is it a recent thing? What's the size of it, roughly?"

Behind her, a gaggle of mixed Astartes - those of the Judged and the Jackals who weren't gifted with psyker abilities - either inspected the Barghests from a distance or quietly discussed the wisdom of getting closer to the anti-magic zone. One wondered out loud how long it would be before the Grand Inquisitor smelt Necrons and fled. The slightest hint of necrodermis, they said, and she'd be gone. Evren glared in their direction but had no retort to their pointed truths.

"...and, more importantly, is it gonna make my skin fall off?"

#[evren's reports] #[era: 40k] #akhenaten imhotep #[evren does her best All Might impression]

[thesilentinquisitor]

"Mmm." replied Evren, wondering what all this had to do with the task at hand. Part of her suspected that torturing the Dark Eldar was helping the gods of Chaos far more than she'd like, though the look on Akhenaten's face suggested her niece may not care too much about that little fact. Or, worse, might actively approve of it. Throne. Why did so many of her family have to be ensnared by the dark gods? It was bad enough that Evren herself attracted daemonettes like flies to carrion, even with the touch of Malal around her.

"Perhaps? Or perhaps someone accidentally summoned it there - opened a rift of some kind and something on the other side took advantage - as opposed to it coming here of its own accord."

Evren frowned, unconsciously biting into her lower lip. "Of course, I'm hypothesising with no evidence here. Far less evidence than the people who called Akhenaten a black widow..." she added as if to prove she'd been listening to Achilles' little reminiscence. They'd listened to her family tragedies; the least she could do was entertain their diversions in turn. "Not that I'd judge too much if she were, as several of my ex-husbands'd attest - if they could. Ah, but is it such a crime to make sure a rich old man dies happy, in his bed, in the arms of his attractive 'young' wife? I go so far as to say it was a kindness."

Her frown deepened as she sensed the atmosphere tense even further, her witch-sight catching the dark, gloomy colours of Noel's aura. From their muddy tones she guessed he was remembering something that filled him with remorse and regret. What about her words had stirred up such bitter feelings inside him? But her sympathy was as limited as their time - so she pushed the matter from her mind, hoping it wouldn't affect his performance too much.

The moment Evren stepped inside the psyker-nullifying zone, she felt a jolt of pain across her entire body - as if every one of her golden tattoos had flared white-hot at the same time before cooling. Such was her experience with pain that the only sign was her jaw tensing briefly. As she followed the Geist's group toward the school, the lack of Warp energy to feed her regeneration began to take its toll. Her complexion became ashen and sickly; her carefully-applied makeup couldn't conceal the way it started to crack and blister around her mouth and eyes. Even with her enhancements, the immortal's body was slowly but surely dying around her. Cell by cell.

But she'd endured this before - Evren knew exactly how much time she had before the damage grew too great and she had to retreat. So she pushed through the nausea, ignored the pounding in her skull, and concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other.

Meanwhile, the 'mundie' Tomb Jackals and their allies set about set about herding their afflicted cousins like a herd of sickly sheep, wasting no time in echoing their questions. Why had they come here? Even a Legion as small and psychically-gifted as the IInd had plenty of mundanes in its ranks, so why did the Geists send a team of psykers? It struck them all as extremely unwise.

Evren stopped and crossed her arms, clucking her tongue at her gene-childrens' complaints. "Be that as it may, they're here now and we have to deal with it." she said, before turning to the ruins. "How many pupils were there before? What ages were they, roughly?"

"So this is the no magic zone. Fucking place gives me the crawls "Auntie. I cannot feel the Great Ocean; and neither can Achilles. Oh fuck me. Good thing we brought the Crushers right deartheart?" The forgemaster stood right in the middle of a pack of Barghests who were big, mean, and appereance-wise had more in common with monsters than dogs. He merely scratched the head of the nearest hound and smiled.

There wasn't much in this world or any other that could send a chill down Evren Anubis' spine, but the words 'no magic zone' turned her blood icy cold the moment they left Akhenaten' lips. She barely suppressed the shiver that threatened to run down her body. Though she wasn't the most dignified or in control, Evren knew her men were looking to her as Legion Commander and gene-mother. Seeing her so openly afraid would be terrible for group morale.

The presence of the Barghests was a comfort, not despite but because of their monstrous appearance. They reminded her of the Hounds of Tindalos and their vatborn cousins. Hundreds of generations created and reared by hand from birth to death.

But her mind was starting to wander. Concentrate.

"Hmm." Evren put on her 'serious anomaly investigator' face and faced the indicated zone with an expression that made her look as if she were struggling through a gale. She put a finger on her lower lip, thought better of it, then planted her hands on her hips. "So. This zone... How much do you know about it? Was it here before you arrived or is it a recent thing? What's the size of it, roughly?"

Behind her, a gaggle of mixed Astartes - those of the Judged and the Jackals who weren't gifted with psyker abilities - either inspected the Barghests from a distance or quietly discussed the wisdom of getting closer to the anti-magic zone. One wondered out loud how long it would be before the Grand Inquisitor smelt Necrons and fled. The slightest hint of necrodermis, they said, and she'd be gone. Evren glared in their direction but had no retort to their pointed truths.

"...and, more importantly, is it gonna make my skin fall off?"

#[evren's reports] #akhenaten imhotep #[era: 40k]

[thesilentinquisitor]

"Which raises the question - are we actually capable of perceiving the true selves of anyone, even ourselves? How do we know the self-image we hold in our minds isn't simply a... Another mask, one we wear on the inside? Of course, that in turn raises the question of - is there such thing as a 'true' self to perceive in the first place? We all play different 'characters' depending on who we're with and where we are, but what if they're all equally valid and real? As opposed to the assumption they must be hiding some core 'puppeteer' self."

Evren gazed down at her wine for a moment as if hoping to find some hidden truth in its dark surface. She took a drink too large to be a sip but too small to be a gulp. "Honestly? After twenty-eight thousand years, I'm not sure who I am, let alone anyone else."

"In my reckoning, it's probably because too many of them, sadly, have never been safe. They don't understand it. They think it makes people soft. Hence why so many are unwilling to have their homeworld's living situations improved - if there weren't slums and wastelands, then where would they get their Legion's Aspirants from? Same place Magnus gets his, I assume." Evren was aware this was nothing but wild guesswork. But guesswork based on years of experience with 'I suffered therefore everyone must' types.

"I'll look forward to when it's finished, then." To be more interesting than a scientific paper was a bar so low it was practically a tripping hazard in Hell - but if Lorgar was happy with the compliment, then Evren was happy. Though they may clash over what he wrote, it was plain he far preferred a pen in his hand than a sword. And if that was the calling her brother heard, who was she to stop him?

When the speaker crackled to life she waited patiently, sipping her wine as she wondered what Legion business had interrupted their chat. Hearing this so-called 'Keeper of the Faith' was waiting Lorgar, Evren was about to say he needn't stay here on her account when he dismissed the man. "Speak of the Devil and he shall come. That's what my grandmother always used to say."

The mental image of hugging the Red Angel and his chain-axes or the Night Haunter and his twin lightning-claws almost made Evren choke on her wine. She managed to swallow her mouthful before laughing out loud. "If by 'less receptive' you mean 'would rather lop my arms off and slap me with the wet ends', then yes." She paused. "Doesn't mean I won't try. I'll just wear a sleeveless top when I do."

"They are, aren't they? It's rather sweet." Perturabo might be sourer and more caustic than battery acid with a lemon garnish, but Evren was sure there was a softness under that hard iron shell. He just needed someone to coax it out. A friend like Magnus, perhaps.

When Lorgar fell silent Evren again waited patiently, realising her brother needed some time to get his words in order. His question made her brows shoot right up, threatening to vanish under her fringe, but she needed little hesitation to come up with her answer.

"No." she said, no doubt in her tone. "No, I don't. I'm not sure if he wants to rule forever in the first place, even if he could. Everything dies eventually, including - as much as I hate admitting it - Perpetuals like us. All empires and civilisations end, either with a bang or with a whimper. I might be as loyal to Father's great project as the next man, but I've outlived too many empires to fool myself into thinking this one will be anything permanent. So unless reality ends within the next, say, twenty thousand years... If Father dies before me and the Imperium collapses, I'll stick around to help pick up the pieces. If we both outlive it, well, I guess I'll just follow him to whatever his next big project is."

[Hug Meme: Me again. I said 30k on the Magnus ask but I really don't mind when it's set.]

[Give Hugs]

The primarch was quietly humming to himself as he pulled a book from the shelf in front of him. The humming stopped when he heard footsteps, and he turned to see a familiar face approaching.

"Oh, hello, Evren." He greeted her with a careful smile. "What are you-" he found himself cut off as she came in for a hug. "Ah. Okay. Sure." He put his arms around her, though the gesture did feel a bit awkward.

#[evren's reports] #[era: 30k] #the archpriest and the outcast #['loyal as the next man' eh evren? Might want to check who you're talking to]

[thesilentinquisitor]

A small laugh slipped out - a brief bark of amusement - at the thought of the villagers being beamed into the sky as if some cheesy science-fiction movie from before she was born had forced its way into reality. "I don't think you need to worry about that. In all my thirty-eight thousand years, I've never met a xeno who uses those kind of flashy stunts. Or probes anyone, for that matter, outside of some particularly, ah, dirty-minded Dark Eldar."

Evren couldn't help but laugh again when Akhenaten scanned the surroundings for - what? Some sort of X-Files reject? A crowd of little girls in alien costumes, like Close Encounters Of The Third Kind? A green bobblehead straight of some Roswell tourist tat? Honestly, after so long with the Inquisition, she really should know better.

She sighed internally as she looked from the nervous Akhenaten who'd apparently regressed to childhood to Achilles, who at that moment made Great-Crusade-era Angron look positively zen. And then there was her, distracting herself from her own nerves by criticising everyone else. "At any rate, that adds an interesting factor to proceedings. Schools tend to attract unusual occurrences - lots of young souls, all stressed and emotional, stuck in educational prison together, full of hormones. And just at that age where latent abilities begin to awaken. Like one of my... less lucky half-brothers, who went from worrying about his maths exams to mind-controlling the entire population of Hong-Kong inside of a weekend... Poor kid."

But she was digressing. Badly.

"Right." Evren squared up her shoulders, resting a hand on the pommel of her power-sword. She shot Noel a brief glance when he told Achilles not to get himself killed. Again. "Judging by his current situation, he isn't the kind of man to let a little thing like death stop him from living his life." she commented, gesturing to him.

The Astartes, hearing the cue to move out, gathered behind the Grand Inquisitor. And despite their earlier grousing, it was clear they were prepared to follow her into the jaws of Hell if she chose to lead them there. Fear of Necrons or no, Lady Anubis was their leader. Their gene-mother. The closest thing they had to a Primarch.

"To the school, then!"

"So this is the no magic zone. Fucking place gives me the crawls "Auntie. I cannot feel the Great Ocean; and neither can Achilles. Oh fuck me. Good thing we brought the Crushers right deartheart?" The forgemaster stood right in the middle of a pack of Barghests who were big, mean, and appereance-wise had more in common with monsters than dogs. He merely scratched the head of the nearest hound and smiled.

There wasn't much in this world or any other that could send a chill down Evren Anubis' spine, but the words 'no magic zone' turned her blood icy cold the moment they left Akhenaten' lips. She barely suppressed the shiver that threatened to run down her body. Though she wasn't the most dignified or in control, Evren knew her men were looking to her as Legion Commander and gene-mother. Seeing her so openly afraid would be terrible for group morale.

The presence of the Barghests was a comfort, not despite but because of their monstrous appearance. They reminded her of the Hounds of Tindalos and their vatborn cousins. Hundreds of generations created and reared by hand from birth to death.

But her mind was starting to wander. Concentrate.

"Hmm." Evren put on her 'serious anomaly investigator' face and faced the indicated zone with an expression that made her look as if she were struggling through a gale. She put a finger on her lower lip, thought better of it, then planted her hands on her hips. "So. This zone... How much do you know about it? Was it here before you arrived or is it a recent thing? What's the size of it, roughly?"

Behind her, a gaggle of mixed Astartes - those of the Judged and the Jackals who weren't gifted with psyker abilities - either inspected the Barghests from a distance or quietly discussed the wisdom of getting closer to the anti-magic zone. One wondered out loud how long it would be before the Grand Inquisitor smelt Necrons and fled. The slightest hint of necrodermis, they said, and she'd be gone. Evren glared in their direction but had no retort to their pointed truths.

"...and, more importantly, is it gonna make my skin fall off?"

#[evren's reports] #[era: 40k] #akhenaten imhotep

[thesilentinquisitor]

[I'm still alive, I promise. I've just... been going through a word-drought. If I owe you, chances are the thread is open in a new tab waiting to be replied to.]

#[ooc post] #[the toast ghost speaks]

[thesilentinquisitor]

[Continued from here]

For a moment, Evren felt a little twinge at acting the strict schoolmarm and letting her judgement show. For focussing on appearances in a moment when they should be acting together and supporting each other. But part of her wasn't sorry at all. Emotional and childish she may be at times, prone to tantrums, that didn't stop Evren from disapproving of such habits in others.

"Not unless they were playing the long game. Going in subtle and slow." Evren added, immediately throwing doubt on her own theories - she'd long before learnt the danger of ruling anything out without overwhelming evidence. She gave a one-shouldered uni-shrug when Achilles expressed his hope that whatever lurked within was vulnerable to gunfire. It was a common weakness shared by most things made out of matter. "I'm sure that, between the lot of us, we have more than enough firepower to bring down pretty much anything. Or at least slow it down long enough for us to flee."

Hearing that a school was a hotspot for anti-magic energy made her ears metaphorically prick up. The others were almost mundane and expected - except, perhaps, the market - but a school? Ruins of a school, no less? Now that was interesting. At once, Evren began filing through her memories for every education-related anomaly she'd ever dealt with. Salvation High School. Syncope. All of those.

"...huh." The plot thickens. The thick plottens. Despite everything, Evren was intrigued - what a juicy mystery! "Temples, graveyards - pah! Boring. Cliché. I've been to so many temples and graveyards lately. I vote that we look around the school ruins first. Were they ruined before or after the anomaly appeared?"

"So this is the no magic zone. Fucking place gives me the crawls "Auntie. I cannot feel the Great Ocean; and neither can Achilles. Oh fuck me. Good thing we brought the Crushers right deartheart?" The forgemaster stood right in the middle of a pack of Barghests who were big, mean, and appereance-wise had more in common with monsters than dogs. He merely scratched the head of the nearest hound and smiled.

There wasn't much in this world or any other that could send a chill down Evren Anubis' spine, but the words 'no magic zone' turned her blood icy cold the moment they left Akhenaten' lips. She barely suppressed the shiver that threatened to run down her body. Though she wasn't the most dignified or in control, Evren knew her men were looking to her as Legion Commander and gene-mother. Seeing her so openly afraid would be terrible for group morale.

The presence of the Barghests was a comfort, not despite but because of their monstrous appearance. They reminded her of the Hounds of Tindalos and their vatborn cousins. Hundreds of generations created and reared by hand from birth to death.

But her mind was starting to wander. Concentrate.

"Hmm." Evren put on her 'serious anomaly investigator' face and faced the indicated zone with an expression that made her look as if she were struggling through a gale. She put a finger on her lower lip, thought better of it, then planted her hands on her hips. "So. This zone... How much do you know about it? Was it here before you arrived or is it a recent thing? What's the size of it, roughly?"

Behind her, a gaggle of mixed Astartes - those of the Judged and the Jackals who weren't gifted with psyker abilities - either inspected the Barghests from a distance or quietly discussed the wisdom of getting closer to the anti-magic zone. One wondered out loud how long it would be before the Grand Inquisitor smelt Necrons and fled. The slightest hint of necrodermis, they said, and she'd be gone. Evren glared in their direction but had no retort to their pointed truths.

"...and, more importantly, is it gonna make my skin fall off?"

#[evren's reports] #[era: 40k] #akhenaten imhotep

[thesilentinquisitor]

[I am 28!

And will be working on my owed replies... soon. >x< ]

#[ooc post] #[the toast ghost speaks]

[thesilentinquisitor]

[I can't believe I'm gonna be 28 on the 16th. o((⊙﹏⊙))o. ]

#[ooc post] #[the toast ghost speaks]

[thesilentinquisitor]

Noticing the fear written over every inch of her neice's face, Evren's lips pressed into a thin line; she gave Akhenaten a look halfway between sympathy and warning. Though she could understand that fear, she thought veteran of ten thousand years should have more control than to show it so openly. And an Astartes to boot. What were they, greenhorn Guardsmen? Show a little backbone, for Ion's sake.

Throne, but she could be judgemental when she was nervous.

"Three kilometers? How much is that in a measurement that makes sense?" Even after thirty-eight millinna, Evren functioned entirely on a crude mishmash of the imperial and metric systems. Now. According to her crude mental calculations, that was... roughly two miles square. Or a little under. Quite large, then. "Hrm. If it's the Sisters, I doubt they'd've sat there for three weeks and, I don't know, hid in a hole as you wandered all over running tests. Neither would any assassins. Especially given your connections to the Warp-gods... Necrons? Hmm. Can't rule them out. But it'd be odd for them to only pop up within the last three weeks and within one small area."

Evren was aware that she was rambling, but thinking out loud helped her organise her thoughts. She shook her head when Achilles mentioned Tyranids. "I don't remember it if you did." At least the fact they weren't chest-deep in Ripper Swarms indicated that the Great Devourer wasn't responsible for their current predicament.

When they cheered, it was hard to suppress a laugh - but she didn't want to cause offense. "The meanest. And our lot are some pretty unfriendly lovers of mothers, too." Evren waved a hand at the heavily-armed Astartes she'd bought with her. "And fathers too, of course."

"So this is the no magic zone. Fucking place gives me the crawls "Auntie. I cannot feel the Great Ocean; and neither can Achilles. Oh fuck me. Good thing we brought the Crushers right deartheart?" The forgemaster stood right in the middle of a pack of Barghests who were big, mean, and appereance-wise had more in common with monsters than dogs. He merely scratched the head of the nearest hound and smiled.

There wasn't much in this world or any other that could send a chill down Evren Anubis' spine, but the words 'no magic zone' turned her blood icy cold the moment they left Akhenaten' lips. She barely suppressed the shiver that threatened to run down her body. Though she wasn't the most dignified or in control, Evren knew her men were looking to her as Legion Commander and gene-mother. Seeing her so openly afraid would be terrible for group morale.

The presence of the Barghests was a comfort, not despite but because of their monstrous appearance. They reminded her of the Hounds of Tindalos and their vatborn cousins. Hundreds of generations created and reared by hand from birth to death.

But her mind was starting to wander. Concentrate.

"Hmm." Evren put on her 'serious anomaly investigator' face and faced the indicated zone with an expression that made her look as if she were struggling through a gale. She put a finger on her lower lip, thought better of it, then planted her hands on her hips. "So. This zone... How much do you know about it? Was it here before you arrived or is it a recent thing? What's the size of it, roughly?"

Behind her, a gaggle of mixed Astartes - those of the Judged and the Jackals who weren't gifted with psyker abilities - either inspected the Barghests from a distance or quietly discussed the wisdom of getting closer to the anti-magic zone. One wondered out loud how long it would be before the Grand Inquisitor smelt Necrons and fled. The slightest hint of necrodermis, they said, and she'd be gone. Evren glared in their direction but had no retort to their pointed truths.

"...and, more importantly, is it gonna make my skin fall off?"

#[evren's reports] #[era: 40k] #akhenaten imhotep

[thesilentinquisitor]

Though she was in the middle of battle, fighting for the lives of her gene-children and -nephews against a foe that would love nothing more than to tear them limb-from-limb, Evren couldn't help but be distracted by the appearance of hounds. No matter how monsterous they looked, part of her brain recognised dogs and was delighted.

But there was no time to pet them; that could wait until after the battle, after the last enemy had been put to their deaths.

Evren let herself fall behind the Maiden, keeping an eye on her niece and nephew. Achilles had been badly injured and, though Akhenaten had healed him well, she nevertheless found herself concerned. Battlefield biomancy was always a rush-job; fixing a machine as complicated as the human body, let alone an Astartes with his bionics, required the psyker's full concentration and plenty of time. Neither of which she'd get when people were shooting at her. Still, he was moving and speaking. The fine-tuning could wait a little.

Seeing that the couple and Aisha had things well in hand, Evren decided to take herself where she was needed - in helping the Exorcists and their tamed daemon-machine battle Hekates'. Though they'd evened the odds considerably, the possessed construct was a mighty foe and every spare bolter would be needed.

When the Hounds rushed up, relentless in pursuit of their prey, Aisha stepped aside let them pass. Seeing them stirred distant, faint memories in the daemon's mind, half-faded recollections of her human life. Of the flesh-crafted hounds that her family had raised so many millennia ago. It was a strange sensation, to look back on her own life and realise she was no longer that woman. That human.

But Aisha had no regrets. Not when there were enemies of Malal to be slain - and there were plenty awaiting the end of her Spear.

Meanwhile, Belmonte had only just finished off a cultist and was looking around for more enemies to fight when his gaze fell on a struggling pair. A cultist and one of the Geist's lot. Though the stranger clearly wasn't helpless, there were plenty of those who would take advantage of his distraction. He alerted a pair of his brothers and they split off from the main mass, the shield-wall sliding smoothly shut behind the three. Keeping a safe distance, they set their bolter sights on anything that came too close.

"Life is pain. If they tell you otherwise they are trying to sell you something."

“Hrrm?” The statement, as seemingly unrelated to anything that had just gone on as it was, gave the Jackal Mother pause. She shot the other a quizzical look. Or half a quizzical look, seeing as there was a sharp piece of metal entering one of her eyes and poking out the back of her head. Tellingly, though, having a large part of her brain kabobed hadn’t slowed her down in the least. The rest of her armour showed signs of a long fight - paint chipped, metal gouged - and her helmet, mag-locked to her side, had a dent the size of a soup-bowl. A depowered force sword was held casually, loosely, in her hand.

Looking over the battlefield, Evren considered the statement for a moment. Around them, the Tomb Jackals were caring for the living and dead alike, collecting spoils and trophies off their downed foes. What could be salvaged, that wasn’t touched by Chaos, would be recycled into their own gear. Two of them were kicking a severed head between them like a football. Others were searching for any remaining organic parts for their post-victory feast.

“I suppose. But the other way around could work just as well. There’re many who’ll sell your their philosophy, religion, political party, pyramid scheme, hamburger, or new shade of lipstick by saying the world is a painful place and they’re the only ones who can make it right. Make your planet great again with extra pickles and a spiritual salvation that won’t rub off on your wine glass.” she said, casually wiping a trickle of her dark blood off her cheek. She flicked the shrapnel shard so it made an amusing ‘twong-g-g’ noise and repeated the word ‘pickles’ to herself, with evident relish. “But, ah, what brought this on? Is there something about fighting Iron Warriors that makes you philosophical?”

#[evren's reports] #[tomb jackal's reports] #akhenaten imhotep #[era: 40k]

[thesilentinquisitor]

"So this is the no magic zone. Fucking place gives me the crawls "Auntie. I cannot feel the Great Ocean; and neither can Achilles. Oh fuck me. Good thing we brought the Crushers right deartheart?" The forgemaster stood right in the middle of a pack of Barghests who were big, mean, and appereance-wise had more in common with monsters than dogs. He merely scratched the head of the nearest hound and smiled.

There wasn't much in this world or any other that could send a chill down Evren Anubis' spine, but the words 'no magic zone' turned her blood icy cold the moment they left Akhenaten' lips. She barely suppressed the shiver that threatened to run down her body. Though she wasn't the most dignified or in control, Evren knew her men were looking to her as Legion Commander and gene-mother. Seeing her so openly afraid would be terrible for group morale.

The presence of the Barghests was a comfort, not despite but because of their monstrous appearance. They reminded her of the Hounds of Tindalos and their vatborn cousins. Hundreds of generations created and reared by hand from birth to death.

But her mind was starting to wander. Concentrate.

"Hmm." Evren put on her 'serious anomaly investigator' face and faced the indicated zone with an expression that made her look as if she were struggling through a gale. She put a finger on her lower lip, thought better of it, then planted her hands on her hips. "So. This zone... How much do you know about it? Was it here before you arrived or is it a recent thing? What's the size of it, roughly?"

Behind her, a gaggle of mixed Astartes - those of the Judged and the Jackals who weren't gifted with psyker abilities - either inspected the Barghests from a distance or quietly discussed the wisdom of getting closer to the anti-magic zone. One wondered out loud how long it would be before the Grand Inquisitor smelt Necrons and fled. The slightest hint of necrodermis, they said, and she'd be gone. Evren glared in their direction but had no retort to their pointed truths.

"...and, more importantly, is it gonna make my skin fall off?"

#[evren's reports] #[era: 40k] #[tomb jackal's reports]