Today was the day. A terrifying day, sure, but the day all the same. She woke up, and stared at the ceiling. She could feel the pressure in her head, the heat in her body, the tingling in her fingers, but she was able to grasp it like it was a thing, and push it down with sheer force of will. Her mentality had grown, and with it, her ability to deal with this thing. Though, looking down at the sparkling rings in her, she knew that if they came out all this would be so much more difficult to deal with. Maybe impossible. But that was something that she would deal with later, right now she had to get up and help people.

Dressing and heading out of the tent, walking was...weird. Her feet felt like there was a stone in her shoe, and that stone just kept moving and moving. It pissed her off but was only an irritant, she could deal with it even before the wisdom. However, before she could get to the tent, she was accosted by a pair of men. Elite soldiers, from their equipment and bearing, they had the symbol of the planetary governor.

“Governor Vandis wants to meet the Angel Of Aquis, and has sent us to come get you” one of the men said. The other just stood silent and gruff.

“Don’t suppose Governor Vandis can wait? We are at war, though I doubt he has noticed from his orbital palace” Emia replied, scathingly. Though the man shook her head and she was escorted more under armed guard than anything. It seems suspicious to force her into this, but she wasn’t going to try and do anything. Governors were strange creatures.

The pressure of leaving orbit was something that Emia was acquainted with, if not used to, by now, but the strange feeling of artificial gravity was a whole new thing. There was a feeling that she knew this was not the ground, but it still felt like it. It threw her off and she didn’t manage to see much until she was in an opulent and magnificent dining room. Gilded - or possibly solid gold - picture frames of masterpieces, ornaments and chairs lined the place, and in full view was a large window out into the void. That too, was something she had begrudgingly grown used to. The Nobles were rich beyond measure, and their subjects toiled and starved. Nobody was around, no guards, a few masked servants, and nothing else. It was all terribly suspicious. Though, the man at the table, eating what looked to be a rich and full meal, spoke before Emia could.

“Ahh, dear Angel. Though, from where I am sitting, you look less like an angel” The Governor looked up and Emia could see his eyes, sparkling with the depth of the Warp. A throbbing reverberation in her soul responded to the Psyker Pulse he released. “More like, a Daemon”

Emia’s response was quick and instinctive. Quickdrawing Troll-Drenger from her inventory, she pointed it at the Governor. Who seemed more fascinated in her ability to pull a gun out of thin air than the fact that there was a gun pointed at him.

“Excellent~ Excellent! Ohh, my Paetron is interested in you for all the right reasons. How do you do it?” He asked, casually eating his food while he asked.

“All the answers are written on this bullet. Let me put them directly into your brain, Heretic” Emia replied, the last word almost snarled out. The man would smile and stand, moving gently over to one of the servants. He did not do anything provoking to avoid being shot, but spoke as he moved.

“What a lovely glasshouse you have to throw your stones from. A Daemonhost like you...why, I have never heard of such a thing. You have such power, just given to you, and you cast it aside for meaningless piety to a long dead deity. Have you never been tempted to use the power at your fingertips?” he asked, arriving at one of the servants and turning back to Emia. Just in time to see she had drawn a second gun from the same place as the first. A laspistol of strange and ornate design, it was then fired at him, glancing his ear and deafening him from the atmospheric displacement bursting his eardrum.

“Ahh~ I’ll take that as a no” the man seemed more pleased than anything by the pain of the attack, and took off the Servant’s mask, before tilting the face and his own to Emia. “Come now. Let-” he was cut off by Emia blowing his brains out with Troll-Drenger. Even with her Wisdom, Emia was shaken by the servant she saw. Most of her focus on pushing down the Daemon, she couldn’t find much left to fight off the mounting hysteria. The woman in front of her was Reina. The Sister Superior who she had left behind, like the rest of her sisters. They had not survived, or met a glorious fate, but something far darker and more sinister. Dropping her weapons and running over, she took the woman’s face in her hands and channeled her healing powers into her. Nothing happened. As she expected. It was a desperate last gasp. The only thing left she could do was to free her from the terrible mortal coil, but Emia didn’t have the strength to do that. She couldn’t just kill Reina like that.

Though, she didn’t need to, it turned out. As from the window she saw the Warp rip open and a ship exit the hole. There was no questioning who’s ship that was, as the great Inquisition sigil was the size of a house and embossed onto the front of the ship. The Emperor had heard the cry of his angel and sent his angels to soothe her soul. Or so Emia liked to think. It was a happy delusion to think, but the reality was more grim, and drab. No doubt they had come to interrogate the Governor for why his call took so long to go out, or to ensure that the great enemy did not take a foothold on this world.

Walking back over to pick up her weapons, she put Troll-Drenger away in her inventory, and looked at the other one. Forge-Fire, Egwene called it. A special las variant that was beyond a Hotshot in power, though built with such parameters that it was beyond the Hotshot in labour to create. Or so the tooltip told her when she opened the sheet up. What would drive a woman to create a gun so powerful? What secrets did Egwene see deep beneath the veneer of society that would inspire a gun like this?

“Governor! The Inquisition is here! We need to leave” the door burst open and a man ran through it, though he froze at the state of affairs; the Governor dead on the ground and an Abhuman playing with a pistol. A Pistol that was then levelled to the man.

“What need have you to flee the Inquisition?” she asked him. Though she got no answer as the man slowly moved towards the sidearm and got his arm blown clean off for his troubles. The power of the laser was immense, boiling water instantly and causing a pressure explosion that was so painful it killed the man from shock. Not the best thing to do, but she didn’t want to be shot at.

The Servants weren’t moving, just stood there like robots, so she would leave them there for now. Moving to one of the tables and upending it, she drew her Longlas from her inventory and then carved a hole in the bottom of the table with her laspistol. Unorthodox use of it, sure, but it worked. Poking the barrel through, she flicked the scope to xray so she could see through the table, and got down on her stomach. From here she had a perfect vantage point to shoot down any other guards that might come this way when they started to question what was taking the dead man so long to get the Governor. Plus, so low on the ground, she would have a low profile and an indefinite position, crippling their morale and ability to return fire.

It took them a minute to arrive, but that was fine, Emia was burning cold right now and had the patience to stay here all week if she had to. She would execute every last member aboard this heretical vessel and see it burned with holy fire. How, was something she’d deal with later.

“If one guards their faith strongly enough, salvation before you shall appear” she whispered. A prayer to The Emperor for his grace and protection. And then the first heretic came around the corner and took a lashot to the chest, stumbling and collapsing. “Ave Imperator”

Fear and terror gripped the squad that followed the armsman, unsure where the shot that killed him had come from. Two more fell before they could retreat, and from there they took a few pot shots that scorched the table and cut holes through it, though nowhere near Emia. Any head that peeked through was domed, and she racked up a tidy sum of bodies. However, the Armsmen here seemed to forget just as Emia did, what was coming for them on the other side of the corridor. Until they got a sharp reminder when the powerful, thunderous report of a boltgun ripped through the air as their ammo ripped through the armsmen bunched up trying to get the courage to storm the room.

Emia paused for a moment, somewhere between startled and amazed that the Astartes had come. Angels of Death, Warriors of the Emperor, sons, true and all. Activating her Aura of Benediction so her faith was undeniable, she stood up and looked at them. Clad in mighty armour and moving with inexorable perfection, they looked to Emia and, feeling the burning faith in their bones as her Aura allowed them to use Proxy Faith Powers, paused.

“Lord Astartes. Your arrival is most delightful”