Join Date: Jun 2009
Location: In a cell for revealing sensitive information regarding the Inquisition
Ioana stood still as stone, the weight of the rifle on her back familiar and comforting. She was dwarfed by many of those around her, but that was irrelevant. She was perfectly secure around the more physically imposing Astartes, their martial prowess familiar to her by now. Their foolish devotion was another story, but expressing such thoughts aloud would be foolish. Given the present company, even thinking such things was not necessarily private. Her mental conditioning was hopefully proof against such invasions, but possessing no psychic talent herself she could never quite be sure.
Bartimus spoke on about the nature of their targets and the warzones they would be entering. Their leader was fond of using mental images and such things were useful for Ioana to have stored and so they passed through to her with ease. A space hulk, a ravishing Rogue Trader heir and a cursed dagger. Each of them targets, along with the leaders of the factions that opposed them. Without their leader, the greenskins would likely fall upon themselves and the genestealer cult was no better. Her eye’s gleamed at the thought of such prey, even as Laertes began to level meaningless threats at them.
Ioana’s name was called out alongside the Raven Guard, the Emperor’s Child and the Carcharodon. Each of them marked. From what she knew, the Carcharodon had chosen to walk a certainly lethal path by splitting his soul in two. At least the other two had the common sense to put their fate in the hands of only one fickle god each. Bartimus spoke a brief blessing over them, but Ioana mentally dismissed it. Luck and blessing were nothing compared to consummate skill, and she trusted to have lasted this long her compatriots were not lacking.
Ioana felt more comfortable carrying her weapons with her and so, having anticipated they were about to be deployed, brought her gear to the briefing. She made straight for the Ganesh’s chambers and was the first to arrive. She sat cross-legged, rolled out a cleaning mat and began to disassemble, clean and reassemble her rifle. The routine soothed her and her spy mask fed her a steady torrent of information regarding the current state of the hulk, the information on the forces there and the state of the ship. The door slid open and she heard the harsh growl of Mark V armour, weighed down by trinkets. “Volpex” she said without looking up from her work. She continued as she waited for the others to join them...