Maybe this is the seven and a halfth report… I’m not sure. Anyway, I don’t really like fractions. So I’m gonna call this one eighth.
It has not been the restful day I hoped for as I was suturing my face. Titus and Ravia decided to go about business of their own in the morning, so I visited Constantine and watched the autopsy of he-who-was-resistant-to-shotguns. And guess what they found?
There was nothing even remotely strange about the guy. Well, that’s not strictly true. His organs had begun to rot, and somehow he was still walking around. Which to me, made no sense, because no weird tech implants or xeno grafts were located. No drugs in his system, no organs that shouldn’t be there. A perfectly normal walking bullet resistant carcass. Did have a bit of a strange smell to his Warpshadow, but I couldn’t quite place it.
Also, the Noble Chorum wants to see us for some insult we caused. Though I claimed it was my evil doppleganger, Nache van der Kroken, Constantine still advised that we go see them.
But, as I was leaving the building, I was hit with an epiphany. A curious scar on the cadaver’s chest had been puzzling me, and as usual, it was not until I left that I realised its importance. This was not the slab residing gent’s first autopsy.
So I went to fetch Ravia, and we nipped back down to the operating theatre with the aim of having some stern words with Adept Tallanis, their Adeptus Mechanicus Coroner. He refused to admit anything, and even when it was made clear that we were Inquisitorial Agents, the stern words soon spiralled out of all proportion and he tried to kill us. And not just kill us… he tried the “by crikey what’s that?” trick and everything! So there we were in a dingy basement, under attack by a mad bonesaw wielding techhead and three syringe fingered servitors. Things were looking bad, so we did what any reasonable person would do in such a situation.
We killed all four of them. Into small pieces.
Luckily for us, they were substantially less bullet resistant than teh guy they were operating on, amd four deft sword strokes and half a clip later we were alone in the theatre. Giving it a quick going over, we found Tallanis’ cogitator, which will hopefully be able to tell us stuff that his bullet riddled corpse is now unable to. I considered taking his head (in case he’d hidden anything useful in there) but figured it’d take to long to get through his poissibly reinforced neck with a bonesaw.
I also proved my inability to administer first aid to anyone other than myself anywhere other than a car dashboard. Sorry Ravia…
From deep in the earth… this is Nache signing off.