conversations: human
conversations:  Chapter I     Thought of the Day:    The Man That Wasn't There.   
  
  	A blood curdling shriek rips across the eerily silent hallway; hurled from somewhere behind the ominous doorway ahead of you. The voices are familiar; sparking memories still fresh in your minds- to some eliciting an anticipatory thrill, to others the throbbing pains of old scars.
  
  The solemn tapping of your footsteps punctuates the screams of agony as you slowly advance towards your destination; unsure of what to expect with your meeting with the Inquisitor. You could not help but notice that, throughout your time in his service, few have ever been summoned to his private “Interrogation Chambers” and fewer still have returned, or in any case accepted, to speak of what had happened.
  
  Perhaps he’d finally noticed you; your useful talents and impeccable skills: your faultless service to his cause- or one success too many?
  
  Then again, your entire cell was gathered- why would he single you out?
  Doubt is a sign of weakness- Imperial Creed Echoes in your mind.
  
  It is far too late to falter now- as you stand before the greying doorways, you have no choice: extending a firm hand forward, you push them open and walk into the gloomy room beyond, alongside the rest of the group.
  
   ~ 
  “You’re late.”
  
  Inquisitor Soldevan’s sombre tone greets you- followed by another excruciating scream and a nauseating metallic smell that floods out from the room, leaving a bitter aftertaste in your mouth and a knot in your stomach.
  Their source is immediately apparent, taking up the majority of the chamber. Hanging on a large metallic blood drenched board- feet, waist, hands and neck firmly bound by metal bars- a man writhes in pain, large sections of his innards exposed, his flesh flayed to the bone. His chest, an open cavity- is empty. Instead, cables- buried into his arms, his shoulders, his legs- spread out towards various containers lining the walls; each containing a floating organ, pulsing with energy.
  
  “I have called you here today...” You hear the Inquisitor say, and turn your attention to him: a sharply dressed man, in a heavily decorated military uniform, standing next to an old, metallic podium upon which several pale green lights glow faintly, only a few meters ahead of you. “Because I have heard of your... work...” he continues, before pressing one of the lights- causing a bolt to course trough one of the containers and another horrid scream to erupt from the hanging man’s desiccated throat.
  
  A chill runs down your spine, it was as you suspected: soon the man would die; and another would need to take his place. The inquisitor turns to face the group, eyeing each Individual momentarily.
  
  “I am proud to have such acolytes in my retinue.” He says, and you hear a faint sigh of relief from within the group- or was it your own breath releasing your bottled tension... “As such, I have a special task for your cell; a matter of personal importance.”
  
  He raises a hand, and you spot- held tightly within his fingers, a small data slate. With click, a large screen whirs on a nearby wall as it slowly descends and locks into place. Another press of a button and the screen flickers on- the image adjusting into that of a young man, in his late twenties- his clothing fanciful; clearly of noble origin.
  
  “This is Andreyus Keetling.” He states, before turning to face the group. “According to his sister, he has been missing for two weeks now- and the Local Arbites have been unable; or unwilling, to find any leads.” He then turns his attention back to the consol ahead of him.
  
  “I expect you to travel to Prudenza, a small coastal hive here on Malfi.” He continues, pressing another button on the data-slate in his hand. A map of the planet replaces the nobleman’s picture, and quickly centers a small, isolated hive on a corner of the continent. “Prudenza Used to be a prominent port-town. Until that is, an accident shattered the rail systems connecting it to the rest of the hive; leaving it rather isolated, and making it rather difficult location from which to transport large quantities of goods. Though repairs started years ago, they are nowhere near complete: as such, the hive has been more or less cast aside by the Administratum; and is now a hotbed of criminal activity.
  
  (A scream interrupts the Inquisitor, who pauses for a moment before continuing.)
  
  You are well aware that vendettas in Malfi are commonplace; as such, it is Imperative that the situation not devolves into a blood bath: though Prudenza is isolated; these nobles are all connected- by ilk or marriage; and such an incident could spark a blood feud across the entire planet.
  Remain subtle, and discreet with your investigation, regardless of what you find. Do not attempt to contact me before your task is complete, one way or the other: you never know who might be listening. If word of our involvement reached the wrong ears, then hasty conclusions would quickly follow- and would lead us back to bloodbath- you are strictly to remain undercover.
  (Another scream interrupts him once more, but is silenced abruptly.)
  Now, I have secured you transport to the hive. Once there, you’ll have to fend for yourselves. First, you’ll want to meet with Sarah Keetling, his sister: she’ll tell you anything else you need to know- you’ll be given their familial mansion’s coordinates on the transport.”
  
  He concludes with a stern nod and another quick press of the data slate- the screen begins to rise towards the ceiling out of view. Without as much as giving you a chance to ask questions, he waves you off (to your great relief) - but as you turn to leave, he calls out to you- freezing you in your tracks.
  
  “Oh, and acolytes- Keep in mind: the Keetlings are personal friends of mine. Their father, before his untimely passing, was a staunch supporter of my research- and provided valuable aid to the Inquisition.
  I trust you’ll succeed in this task; I wouldn’t want to have to find out what went wrong.”
  
  You step out of the room, the doors closing behind you, just as the screaming resumes- In retrospect; it wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be.
conversations: Saldre:
conversations: human
conversations:  Lenk thinks to himself for a moment as they were unceremoniously kicked out of the Inquisitors room, shrugging his shoulders as he takes out a data slate, searching its numerous entries, nodding his head every once and a while.
  
    "I think I might have some local info on Prudenza, I'm pretty sure I did a run their once, hoping to dig up some contacts."   He remarks absentmindly as he furiously screens the data slate.
  
   
   Spoiler 
   Common Lore(Underworld) +10
   (1d100)[ 30 ] 
   
conversations: Talkkno:
conversations: human
conversations:  Troll Patrol:  Duplicate, closed by request. 
conversations: Zeb The Troll: