The Chronicles Of Soloss

Imperial Communique I
Season I

Communique i low res

Original piece created by Tim Seelig, all rights reserved. Please contact him for permission to use his work.

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Interseason Developments between 5 & 6 part 3
Eye For An Eye

Strang and the pilot flee across the desert plain heading for the space port. They can’t quite see the stranger chasing them, but they can see the dust on the horizon from their vehicles.
They reach the space port and try and get passage on the first ship to leave terra.
Whether it is a result of outside interference or low fellowship no one will take their coin for the passage. By now the vehicles are on the horizon and they will be on them shortly. Resorting to well worn tactics, Strang incapacitates the owner of a small Arvus Lighter craft and him and the pilot fling it skyward.
They are not in the air long before more maneuverable and larger craft are picked up on the scanner as perusing them. Realising they can’t out run them and can’t trust anyone enough to call for help they opt to hide in the Eye of Terror.
Over the course of several weeks Strang and the Pilot are forced deeper into the warp. Running and hiding from the ships on their radar, frequently skirmishing with raiding crews tainted by the warp. By this point the pilot is beginning to exhibit serious mental torment and cannot accurately pinpoint where they are.
They drift alone, lost in the horror, Strang views the map trying to see if it offers any clue to their location.
After a period of almost a year, the ship drifts close enough to the edge of the ever shifting warp storm for them to pick up their bearings. By this point the pilot is completely catatonic and now flying more out of instinct. They make it back to the safety of Dar’s command center who immediately arrests them and interrogates them as to why they have been AWOL for over a year, having assaulted the owner of the Arvus and stolen his ship in broad daylight, only to flee without communication.
Strang cannot divulge his entire story for fear of being accused of taint. He also does not trust the hierarchy enough to give details of his attackers. The somewhat vague account angers Dar and raises suspicion. Strang is able to pass the grueling tests to prove that he is not tainted but his answers are unsatisfactory and he is viewed as a danger to all concerned.
His requests to speak to Hiron are repeatedly denied – either the Lord is too distant or preoccupied, or someone doesn’t want Strang to see the light of day. He is thrown into solitary because they do not know what to do with him and is frequently beaten in the hope his story will change.
It doesn’t.

I’ll leave the details of his release to you so it can fit into your next storyline.
I like the whole delivered in chains, orange jumpsuit type thing flanked by two burly guards.
Long grey hair and beard.

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Interseason Developments between 5 & 6 part 2
Market Scene

The heat is intense.
The market is packed with patrons involved in the hustle and bustle of day to day life. There is a hubbub of different voices merged into a constant thrum, like the buzz of an insect hive: the occasional shout for sale breaks the monotone of the white noise.
In comparison the air is still, like the weight of the heat is too much for it to move through. The sun washes out everything in a bright, almost unnatural filter. The sweat trickles down the foreheads of the waiting soldiers, running into already sore eyes squinting into the heat haze.
Strang surveys the busy square, cold grey eyes tracking every nuance of movement. He alights on one of the careful disguised troops standing guard across the throng. He watches the slight facial tick as the man grimaces, shifting from left to right foot, recognising the discomfort of moving within sweat drenched clothing.
‘Target approaching’
The voice in his vox receiver crackles into life, crashing in on his thoughts.
‘Target position?’ He answers curtly.
‘Approaching from the south’ comes the reply.
He snaps his gaze right and sees the approaching truck, a pick up with a driver, passenger up front and three armed militia looking types riding uncomfortably on the bumpy, dusty bed.
‘Target confirmed. Eyes on rendezvous point. Wait for my command.’
Tactical strategies began to form in his mind, altering and shifting with each new variable introduced to the market environment.
The truck pulls up in front of the beaten up and unassuming vehicle where the black market trader they had tracked for weeks was readying for the exchange.

Lazarus Hastus was a small time trickster who had struck lucky, a jackal who had fallen upon a fatted calf. As part of what was intended to be a long con he had inserted himself into a salvage crew whose excursions into The Eye of Terror often yielded exotic and high profit rewards. On one particularly long trip they had stumbled across the wreckage of a derelict. Unidentifiable to the crew and fear of Heresy or raiders, their search was cursory but revealed an ancient map. The consensus of the crew was that the map leads to some ancient treasure of great value. They vowed to return to terra and find a cartographer who would help them discern its hidden meaning. At this point Hastus fell upon them in their sleep and condemned them to a cold and silent grave. Once slipping back onto Gudrun he set about finding information from the shadier elements of the pilots and navigators hang outs. His enquiries altered several interested and poweful parties in the Hive world and eventually word of his questions reached the ears of the Inquisition.
The fear in the cartographer’s voice told him more than he needed to know about its content. If he was lucky enough to be found without it on his person he might just live.

Strang’s team had been on the planet a week. Despite Lazarus’s caution they had tracked him and learned of his intention from dealers and murky murmurings in darkened corners of salubrious taverns.
Once they had learned of the hand off they were ordered to identify the buyer, his intentions and eliminate if necessary but preferably captured, the map recovered and the thief held for questioning.
Now in the midday heat was the moment.

The passenger door of the truck was thrown open. The men on the back of the truck vaulted over the sides pulling rifles from their back and glancing hurriedly about.
The assassin from his position on the roof of a stall cracks his neck from side to side and looks down the telescopic sight of his sniper rifle.
‘Green 1 – Capture seller.
Green 2 – On the driver.
Green 3 – Suppress the buyer.
Heavies are mine, Copy.’
The confirmation rings in his ear from three distinct voices.
‘On my mark’, the passenger exit’s the car.
‘Three’ Strang calculates the position of the bodyguards.
‘Two’ Hastus leaves the car.
‘One’, the two men leave the cover of their vehicles and step towards each other.
‘Mark’.
The world slows…

Strang removes the sunglasses from the first bodyguard as he shoots him dead through the temple. Breathing he ratchets the slide on the rifle, scope switching to the startled second guard who is just beginning to react. Green 2 from his position low and across from the truck catches the driver through the throat, drenching the windscreen with blood. Strang shoots the second bodyguard, rolling into position for the third. He once more cocks the rifle.
Caught in no man’s land the two conspirators are like frightened rabbits. Their gaze meets; they hesitate and turn to run, unsure of the direction for their salvation. As they turn to flee Green 1 and 3 spring from cover. Using their exceptional hand to hand skills they easily take down the two men. The third bodyguard has barely had time to notice this as he has spotted Strang up on the stall roof, placing him between the triangle of his sight in time for the assassin’s third bullet to tear off his cheekbone and send him spinning to the floor.
Strang exhales.

‘Suspects taken’.
‘Affirmative. Watch your positions and group for extraction. Good work.’
Strang switches channels, ‘Alpha Team this is Harbinger. Target acquired, requesting extraction’.
The answer comes back almost immediately.
‘Affirmative Harbinger, extraction ETA 5 minutes’.

Strang springs down from the hard wood stall and moves cautiously across the square.
He reaches the captives and searches Hastas. Removing the map he stashes it carefully in his leathers,
‘You have made an extremely bad choice my friend.’
Hastus spits at his feet, ‘You should have just killed me, I’m a dead man now anyway’.
‘I have killed you,’ Strang replies, ‘but your death rattle may yet prove sweet music to my ears’.
He turns to the would be buyer, there is a glimmer of recognition between them. He pauses, frustrated like an echo of something skittering across his mind fleetingly before dancing out of reach.
In the distance there is the whine of approaching engines.
‘Who are you?’ He asks.
‘Do you think it’s that easy assassin? That I’m just going to tell you what you want to know?
‘If you don’t either he’ll give you up’, he nods to the seller, ‘Or I’ll ensure the Inquisition carves it out of you’.
The buyer smirks seemingly cool under this pressure, ‘You’ll never take me alive Severas’.
The assassin flinches at the use of his name, the troops exchange glances. This is not what they were expecting.
The dust around them picks up; the tents start to flap, voices are raised angrily as fruit and merchandise start to roll off the table tops. There is a merciful moment as the drop ship passes in front of the relentless sun, bathing the square in shade. This distraction breaks the moment and Strang shoves the buyer into Green 3.
‘Watch him and get him into the drop ship’.
He steps back to survey the square, unsettled by the turn of events, still trying to grasp at the memory of where he has seen the man.
The drop ship lands 30 meters away – motioning he signals to his men to get on the craft. Green 1 as the closest moves Hastus onto the vehicle, Green 2 and 3 start to force the buyer through the open side hatch.
Across from the Valkyrie Strang turns, he almost senses something is wrong. His heightened hearing picks up a noise above the crowd, a whooshing sound.
‘RPG!’ He screams ducking for cover, the shout is lost as the propelled rocket whips across the space, through Green 3 by the door of the craft and into the wing mounted engine. There is a crumpled explosion of wet flesh into metal and the Valkyrie tips throwing the crew from the back.

As they tumble out there is a hail of bullets, peppering the ship and the surrounding area. The pilot and the seller get clipped, not fatally, but seriously. As the craft hits the floor there is a second explosion in the wing, shards of metal erupt from the mess and as Green 1 helps the former seller to his feet they are cut to ribbons.
‘Get down’, Strang dives towards the buyer, dragging him towards a wooden stall. Green 2 helps the Pilot, who has tied a tourniquet around his leg, out of the main shooting alley.
Snapping his head round the side of the stall the assassin surveys the area. More bullets rattle the ship and the stall.
‘Four man team. Two left, one elevated centrally and one approaching from the right.’
He turns to the buyer, ‘Who the hell is out there? They want you dead as much as us.’
The buyer shakes his head, ‘I was dead the moment they knew you were coming for me. There is nothing you can do now to make me tell you what you want to know.’
Wood splinters above them.
‘They have betrayed you and yet you remain loyal?’
‘They are not my people, but others with similar interest. This was why I came armed. Whoever put you in this place either hates you or has no idea of the shitstorm you have just walked into – those men. ‘he nods beyond the stall,’will not allow the map to fall into Inquisitional hands’.
‘It already is’ Strang relies. He rolls to the right and snaps off two rounds, the lone figure approaching on foot rifle held out in front of him is cut down, a shot to the chest knocking them teetering backwards and the shot to the top of the right leg punching him off his feet.
‘Green 2, for fucks sake take them out’.
Jolted into action the trooper swivels to return fire on the two on the left. The shift in movement causes the elevated sniper to switch target allowing Strang the moment to get a bead on him and take him out.
Green 2 hits one of the men and he goes down. The second men shoots him dead instantly, his body falling on the injured pilot.
‘We’re getting out of this’ Strang mutters under his breath and pulling his power blade from his belt he crouches waiting for the man to get closer. As he draws next to the wooden stall, the pilot fires at him with his Las Pistol. The shot is ineffectual and bounces off his armour but the distraction is long enough to allow the assassin time to leap over the stall, he lands gracefully in front of the trooper, poised. The attacker swings his gun round.

In an almost poetic movement Strang rotates from the hips, swaying his body round like a ballerina and leaning backwards, the shots rippling harmlessly over his head. He straightens in time to see the disbelief in the man’s eyes. Launching from the ball of his foot he leaps, twisting in the air, blade arching in the sunlight. The first blow carves the arm that was rising to block the attack rendering it useless, the second blow rakes across his back as Strangs momentum takes him passed and the final strike severs the base of the neck as the blade is jammed into the weak spot in the attackers defenses.
As the assassin pulls the weapon clear the body slumps to the ground.

He walks over to the buyer and the pilot. He helps the injured man to his feet and turns to face the buyer. As he looks up to meet the man’s eyes the world turns red, reeling back he shakes his head, droplets of warm, thick red liquid falls on the hot sand, staining it an almost copper colour, looking up once more he realises he cannot see the buyer’s head, the stump where he neck should be is gouting blood. Shocked the assassin gazes round.
There in the middle of the market stands a solitary cloaked figure. His hood is up and only his eyes glint in the shadows; he holds a twisted staff and a sleeking looking pistol which wasn’t smoking like it had been fired.
‘The map if you please.’ His voice is soft but raspy like it had been damaged or under used for many years. He tilts the staff towards the assassin in a gesture which could be taken as a command or a threat.
Strang levels his rifle at the man’s chest stepping back again.
‘I am a member of the Emperor’s Inquisi-’
‘I know who you are. Your position is of no interest to me. Give me the map and maybe I’ll kill you quickly’
Voices whisper in Strang’s head, a growing mad cacophony in the back of his mind. He shakes his head from side to side trying to clear it. Looking up he can see a smile dance on the lips of the stranger. Speaking over his shoulder he asks the pilot if he can move. The answer is positive.
Turning back to the caped man he primes the rifle.
‘I suggest you walk away with your life now’.
‘You are not placed to make threats little man. Give me the map or you will endure horrors you could not even imagine were possible’, and with a gesture the noise grows inside Strang’s head.
‘Thank you’, it is the assassin’s turn to smile, 10 yards, point blank range to the unamoured chest of the stranger. His finger pumps the trigger, once, twice, three times. The gun is silent except for a clicking sound as the weapon fails to fire. The smile turns to a snarl.
‘Fucking witch’
The stranger laughs at this and turns up the noises in Strang’s head. Hard.
He staggers, the voices shrieking deep in his subconscious.
‘What are you doing?’ the pilot screams.
‘Get to the car!’ Strang replies galvanised back into the real world by a real person speaking to him. It is taking all his will power to resist the crippling effects. He lunges forward, flailing with his rifle; he strikes the stranger on the knee cap with the stock of the weapon. The internal noise recedes slightly as the man cries out. Strang moves on the attack, swinging with the rifle again, catching the man off balance and knocking him backwards. He reels before regaining his footing, just as Strang steps in to close range combat. In a wild series of fluid movements the assassin unleashes his devastating attack, the stranger keeping perfect pace, parrying every strike. Strang has never known another human outside of the Assassinorum to be able to match his training.
The stranger begins his attack. He is fast; worthy of any opponent Strang has fought. He slips, losing his footing in the stand, and the last move becomes a desperate block.
Prone he sweeps the strangers legs and rolls to land a blow as the man crashes to the ground next to him. The blade goes deep into the man’s shoulder and as he pulls himself almost face to face he twists the weapon opening the wound. The stranger laughs again, a horrid alien sound that chills Strang to the bone, then pain as his opponent slides his own blade into the assassin’s side.
Screaming as the same thing happens in turn to him Strang crashes his forehead into the man’s nose splattering both their faces with his blood. Once more the stranger smiles and tilts his head.
The noise erupts deep in Strang’s mind again, almost paralysing and agonizing.
‘You shall die here today Severas’ the man intones, ‘I swear this by-’
He is cut off as the pilots boot comes down on his face smashing his teeth. Again and again he brings his heel down. The noise cuts off in Strang’s mind and it is like he can breathe once more.
He rolls away and stands, the pain in his side is excruciating. He pulls the pilot off the stranger, dragging him backwards towards the vehicle Hastas arrived in.
‘We have to leave NOW’ he yells.
‘But what about him?’
‘He’s too fucking strong, let’s go!’
The pilot turns to protest at the fallen man, but even as he looks back the Stranger is propping himself up on his elbows, spitting small yellowed tombstones, his face now a mask of blood frame a look of fury. The pilot turns ashen. Strang grabs him by the shoulders and hauls him away from the ruined figure who is now beginning to mutter in his low voice. The wind starts to pick up; Strang pulls his bolt gun and snaps off a round. He doesn’t hit the stranger but the shot is enough to break his incantation.
It buys them enough time to pile into the vehicle. The pilot guns the engine as Strang peppers the area with shots to keep the stranger pinned down and they roar off in a cloud of dust.
From his vantage point Strang can see the man stand and operate a vox communicator.
‘He has more back up.’
‘What do we do?’ the pilot asks his eyes still on the road ahead.
‘We have to get to the space port quickly. We have to run.’

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Interseason Developments between 5 & 6
Be careful what you wish for...

After returning home to Ferran, Strang restocks his gear through official channels and goes to pay a visit to Xanthia. The gunsmith asks him if he has any special requirements to modify his equipment. Being (over?) confident of his skills and gear Strang assures him this is a social visit to follow up the events of last time. The gunsmith is touched to see Strang’s concern that there has been no more trouble. The assassin wants to ensure the security of his friend because he would be sent away more frequently. The two men shake hands and part.

He reports to Hiron where he learns he is to be used more widely by the assassinorum from now on as he is far too useful to be kept as Hiron’s house pet. The times when he is away on (Lordly) duties is too much of a waste of Strang’s resources to remain on service in the Ferran household.
He reports to the assassinorum temple on Occul where he spends several months training and studying the arts of death to perfect his skills.

He is eventually ordered to report to General Havelock Dar who details him with the mission.
He is too travel to the dusty Planet Gudrun, backed up by a small squad, to retrieve a map which is believed to be the lost map of Vandire, containing information about and location of warp rents. The Inquisition believes this is too dangerous a piece of knowledge to be studied freely. More conceringly, the ship that the map was carried on is also of vast import to the Imperium and it is felt with the re-emergence of the Primark that its finding could be seen as a blessing and an omen for the new ages. As such its location and recovery is much sort after by many involved in the higher political stratosphere.

The buyer must also be identified as to try and obtain such information and such a valuable artifact in an underhand manner is potentially heretical and politically dangerous.

They are dispatched on an Elysian Valkyrie without any expectation of back up required. An Inquisitional approved assassin who is a specialist in the Elysian Drop Troops and his squad should be able to take down a couple of underworld thugs.

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Sniper's Mantra
In HIs Name...

One Shot
patience is mine says the Lord
Walk through the valley and meet the maker
He who lies in my steel chamber, solo flight, first class
Meet the maker
Fear the hands of a steady middle man
Deliver this sacrament unto me
Guide me true
Guide me true
Vengeance is yours.

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Interseason Developments between 4 & 5 part 3
Xanthia - the Gunsmith

Gunsmith

Known to Strang before this last encounter as Malla.

Real name: Xanthia
Description: A tanned and scrawny man with brown hair. He is wiry from working with hot metals and smelt all day. The tanned skin could be a result of the dirt or the heat in the forge. He has piercing blue eyes which are unnervingly bright in such a grimy casing and suggest more than his outward appearance would lead the casual observer to believe.
He has several tattoos that look military in origin but they are scarred by smelting burns. It is not clear if these are obscured by accident or deliberately.
He wears a spent bullet casing pendant around his neck that he refuses to talk about.

Background: Unknown to all he is of noble birth.
Father’s name is Rabalies – A Hive noble who follows the path of Tech Priest
Mother’s name is Tzanine – a noble lady
He has a sister called Xantippe who also follows the Tech Priest path and his brother’s name is Thaddius, a Hive World Cleric.

His divination was Thought begets heresy, heresy begets retribution.

First meeting:
When Strang is brought to the Hive World of Ferran to be inducted into the Elysians to begin his military training (after being seconded into the assassinorum’s own training program) he needs an ‘off the grid’ weapon as he cannot simply simply disappear with an Elysian rifle from the armoury, especially being the loose cannon he is perceived as.
This is largely due to Strang departing from his home world with just the clothes he had on after shooting the Mayor which were burned upon being given his uniform (completing the purging process of leaving his old life behind). This explains why for the first couple of seasons he has a hunting rifle and no Long Las.
Resourcefulness is a key element to all assassins and he was required to get another rifle.
Using the skills he had picked up stalking the Mayor, he ghosted between bars and Cesspools using his anonymity to obtain information about black market traders and people who were outside the watchful eye of the Imperium which led to the mention of a forger called Malla.
Initally posing as a beaten bounty hunter Strang struck a deal for any kind of rifle to avenge his beating on a bounty worth as much dead as he was alive. There are plenty of people with formal training in weaponry and shooting on the dregs of the Hive world so this cover was easily brought by Malla. After several return visits for shells the two formed a relationship that was half business arrangement and half friendship – the respect for the maker of the craft and a true student…
Strang asks him to design a sword, under the guise that he was apprehending a fugitive in an environment where the penetration of a high velocity shell would destroy the integrity of the atmosphere and therefore wouldn’t allow guns of any description. This seemed to Malla to be an odd request and something of a lie, but the nature of their friendship meant that he could trust the cash and if Strang was hiding something or asking not asking for any information then he clearly wasn’t trying to set him up and as he was willing to pay handsomely for a master craftsman he sourced the monofilament materials to create the assassins Katan.
For Strang’s part the skills involved in making this custom sword far exceeded the brief and the capability of those found in common smithies which meant that Malla had moor to his story than he let on, but again there was no need to jeopardise the mutually beneficial business arrangement and the common respect meant a man was entitled to his privacy.
After this they became closer and would often share a drink and talk of common events – particularly after Strang returned from off world missions – local politics, unrest between the hive worlds, gangs, escaped prisoners, bounties etc but more enthusiastically weapon craft – platforms, precision verses impact etc, both skirting around exactly where they got their experiences and gained their knowledge but both appreciating the company.
After retiring from Drook Prime, having abandoned the Xeno Rifle Strang requested that Malla build him a sniper rifle. This was a watershed moment in their relationship – the excuse of taking down an extreme threat from a safe distance was accepted but both knew the other we all enough that the resigning was tenuous and a bond of trust between them and would be the last detailed query about the usage of weaponry between them; Malla knew that if the matter was serious enough for Strang to lie so blatantly about it he was better off not knowing.

Present:
Strang makes his way down to the mid level hive picking one of the more obscure routes – he never goes the same way twice in a row or uses these paths in a pattern, especially now, a healthy paranoia that only the assassinorum instills.
When he reaches the front door he hesitates. There is something wrong, the door is buckled subtly on it’s hinges and there is a strong smell of acrid smoke alien to the odour of smelt.
Pushing the door open slightly he slips inside; the room is lit by flickering lightened he sees various torched memorabilia that belongs to his friend. On the floor t the back of the forge lie s Malla prone and unmoving. The assassin quickly carouses the room and kneels besides the gunsmith, he is unconscious and his breathing is shallow. In the gloom a figure moves from the shadows, he is fast. A blades gleams wickedly in the firelight arching down, if not for Strangs quick reactions the blade would have slit his throat.
Snapping his head to one side the dagger carves a long deep cut from his jawbone up, his right cheek and almost to the temple. This will leave a scar.
Recoiling Strang springs to his feet as the attacker strikes again, with uncanny reactions he blocks the the unknown assassins strike and drawing his monosword he slices the enemies hand off at the wrist.
The shadow figure screams – the first sound in the whole engagement – and staggers; using his opponents momentum Strang smashes his head off the nearby wall and he falls limply to the floor out cold.
He quickly binds his feet and ties him to the gunsmith’s anvil leaving only the wounded hand free. He heats a large flat piece of metal in the fire and when it is glowing red he jams it on the end of the stump cauterizing the wound and rousing his assailant. The intruder is jolted awake and screams through the gap Strang has wrapped around his mouth. When the screams dull to a sob he rips the cloth out.
“Who are you?”
“Fuck you grey man, you don’t don’t what you are getting yourself into.”
“What do you want with this man?” he indicates to the prone Malla.
“I’m not telling you a fucking thing you anemic cunt” the man spits at Strang.
“That’s unfortunate for you then my single handed chum.” Strang smirks, “I haven’t had the opportunity to torture anyone for quite some time and cauterizing that wound has bought me a long time for us to get acquainted and to indulge plenty of techniques”.
He rises from in front of the man and begins walking the room, inspecting.
“A Gunsmith’s forge has so many tools at it’s disposal, more than enough to cater for the 5 major groups: Hot, Cold, Sharp, Blunt and Loud… once we get started it will be a shame to stop when you are pleading to do anything to make the pain stop…”

Fade up on sometime later..
The bloody mess of Strang’s former assailant is a mewling cabbage – his ears has been removed, his eye lids have been sliced off so he can’t avoid the sight of what is coming. He has passed out several times only to be revived with the skill of a true sadist. There are puncture marks, burns and bruises all over.
Stang stands from the corner where he has prepared a vat of freezing nitrogen used for supercooling metals into hardened form and walks over to the prone man and removes the glove on the man’s remaining hand, his victim stirs..
“Stop”, the ex hit man croaks, “What, what do you want from me?”
“I want answers.”
“they’ll kill me’, he protests.
“I’ll kill you, if you are lucky. If not I can make this last for days yet, maybe a week and I’ll end it with a gut shot. You tell me and I’ll give you sweet release.”

This bit is notes/abbreviated notes we can work on:

The man (Kalum) outlines that Mall’s real name is Xanthia. He was born of Hive World nobility and is the son of a Tech priest. He went through the academy, studying the arts of creating bigger and better weapons but just after graduating he became involved in a bar brawl over his girlfriends honour and killed a man. This man turned out to be the son of a rival and was condemned to death.
his father couldn’t bare to see his son punished so unjustly and used his influence to stage his execution using the body of a vagrant and banished Xanthia to obscurity to protect his son and his honour.

The secret was leaked by a disgruntled member of Rabalies’ household to gain political favour. Kalum was sent to gather evidence and kidnap Xanthia so they could exert political blackmail on the family when Strang stumbled in.

The assassin gets the name of the traitor and who else knows – a lower member of the rival household, Xanthia comes round from his drugged state and outlines his back ground.

His background continued:
The bullet casing held the bullet that killed the man and is a reminder of his penance.

Strang takes out Kalum, the underling in Rabalies’ household and the one in the rival household to preserve Xanthia’s secret.
There is

Things to develop/consider:
Sword upgrade.
Weapons?
Enemy?

Need for further development?

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Interseason Developments between 4 & 5
Meeting With Faulkner

Faulkner sits alone on a table situated near the corner of the tavern nursing a drink with his back to the wall furtively watching the bar. Despite his intense scrutiny he doesn’t notice Strang until he slides on the bench opposite. He starts and makes to rise, the assassin reaches across and puts his hand on the arm of the top hatted Charter Captain,
‘Relax my friend, if you were in danger you would be dead by now and you would have never seen my face. Call your men off for their sake.’
Faulkner shoots a worried glance at the two burly henchmen approaching the table and shakes his head, knowing that his next action determined the three men’s fate.
Strang continues, ’ I appreciate the last time we met the circumstances were less than fortunate, but I assure you I mean you no harm’.
The man opposite him relaxes slightly and Strang removes his arm,
‘I always felt that your disdain for your estranged family had more to do with the irritating, spoiled, dilettantes who know squabble over the late ________’s fortune.
Your father’s death was regrettable but the Inquisition are immovable on such matters and the spread of chaos must be prevented at all costs which always involves hard choices and sacrifices.
You have dealt with me before, you are as much as indebted to my associates and I as we are to you with regards to our lives.’
Faulkner just stares back at Strang ashen faced and unreadable, the assassin continues,
‘Before that ill fated dinner party you were in the map room of the house Bafford attempting to interest the wealthy in funding the possibilities of a space exploration… an exploration of an area that has recently appeared as a void in space.’
The Captain flinches visibly at this, ’I’m sure I don’t know what you mean’ he stutters, clearly lying.
‘My dear Faulkner, your flamboyance can disguise many things but it also attracts attention and this was something I witnessed with my own eyes. It would be a slur on our continued friendship if you were to be calling me a liar…’
One of the body guard shifts his weight and out of the corner of his eye the Charter Captain reacts ‘STAY WHERE YOU ARE!’ he cries out, unconcerned of the attention that this outburst may gain from the tavern, swallowing nervously he turns back to Strang whose piercing grey eyes have never left his face, ’That’s not what I m-m-m-mean-I-I-I-’
Strang cuts him off, "No matter. That area of space has been designated as a no fly zone by the Inquisition. A private charter ship cannot be found anywhere near there, which is unfortunate for a man of opportunity such as yourself…
I appreciate that you have a talent for circumventing the laws when necessary, but trust me such a venture would see you, your crew and your ship… purged…
However I am uniquely placed to offer you a proposition… my associates and I require passage to this sector, converted (which I imagine would suit you) sanctioned and protected by the Inquisition’.
Faulkner fixes Strang with a look, What is in this proposition for me?’
‘For the price of your total discretion and safe passage and return I require you to you to take us to that sector and remain in radio contact. Once we reach our destination we can leave you to explore your abnormal charts, providing you are available for evac. Your expenses will be funded by the Inquisition and there may be a chance to recoup salvage, so dependent on your compliance this could be financially profitable as well as rewarding for your curious nature.
This offer is out of respect to your recent loss, requires your absolute discretion and is an extremely limited time offer. You have 24 hours to provide me with an answer, you can contact me through the same channel this meeting was arranged.’
Faulkner holds his gaze, mulling this over, he extends his hand, ‘I shall be in touch’.
The assassin shakes the Captain’s hand, rises and slips past the bodyguards and into the crowd, the man in the top hat reaches for his drink and notices his hand is still shaking…

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Interseason Developments between 4 & 5
Gearing Up

This is the bit almost immediately after the end of last session.

Following the debrief from Inquisitor _______ and the assignment of the next mission Strang relays the following thought to his compatriots drawing on his military experience in Close Quarter Combat:

We all have our personal preferences and potential avenues of requisition which I suggest we explore within our down time and reconvene.

In the meantime we have an Inquisitional Stipend for mission sundries and the option of going with the Mechanicus or making our own way.
Given the recent treachery on Hill 604 and several potential enemies without and within I suggest the best option is to go with hiring mercs to help us – their only loyalty will be to cash and as long as our offer is competitive we stand as good a chance as any.

There are currently two charter captains known to our group:
Mannon – I suggest Drake make contact in order to access her co-operation and potential.

Faulkner – Our old mate from episodes gone by…
Last seen in the Hive World trying to gather funds for an expedition into the very sector we are heading to – I will contact him, given our recent encounter a subtle approach may be required. I will approach him when returning to the Hive world to gather my things.

I recommend we use them both.
One ship (Mannon’s) meets us at the co-ordinates and supplies the heavies, Mannon should be open to salvage opportunities on top of the flat fee.
We travel with Faulkner for whom the potential to explore a now no fly zone with expenses paid should be a tempting fee and we can negotiate further payment depending on the salvage potential of the Hulk.
We all board Mannon’s ship and head to the hulk to dock, Faulkner is left to explore in radio contact as our back up.

We take into the hulk a minimum of 4 mercs – preferably 6 and (or can be one of them) a guy with medicare and a guy with Tech Comms skills.
Medicare in case we get ambushed and Comms.
Discounting the two skilled additions and heavily armoured, well armed party of four, back up or lead by us would be a perfect unit for close quarter combat and breaching attacks.

Tech Support – we all got vox mikes last time round I’d keep these in addition to any Comms we set up for the Mercs but have a line to everyone and a line to the ship (waiting) and a line to the Inquisition… this may result in the death of a radio operator but it won’t be the first and maybe not the last either..

The Mechanicus have their own mission and we don’t interfere with them unless they contravene the security. we are effectively in charge and have to make the decision… but thought we could offer the Mercs a flat fee (probably to the captain’s to hold on ship) for the job and offer a bonus of salvage to encourage loyalty.

Strang takes a shuttle back to the Hive world on Ferran to retrieve things from his quarters. Upon returning to the Hive he reports to Hiron the fact that he has returned from his Inquisitional mission (no details have been given, merely reporting it is completed – Hiron no doubt has details of this mission and would appreciate the discretion). He also informs him that he will not be available for duty due to the up coming mission.
Strang is aware that Hiron probably knows all this information, if not more, but this is a formal courtesy.
He proceeds to the armoury and submits a formal requisition for a Bolt Pistol, Las Rifle Over Charge Packs, Fire Grenades and Photon Flash Grenades.

Waiting for the results of the armoury he sends a coded message acting as a third party to Faulkner, contacting the Charter Captain about the possibility of a trade proposition. The communique comes back requesting a face to face meeting in an out of the way Hive World tavern.

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A Warning - Season 4 Opening

Here are the details of the text for the hand-written scroll left for Strang by persons unknown within the sanctum chapel.

_Brother,
The cruel xenos, The Dark Eldar are gathering a substantial raider fleet within the immaterium. It’s true purpose true purpose is unknown yet some suggest that they lie in wait for their fickle kin who approach the system in force from the galactic fringe.

Know this, no xeno must take that which is held in the ship you seek.

Be watchful, your path is hounded, tread carefully. _

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Timelines

Timeline

Strang in pictures

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