++++BEGIN DATA FILE EXCERPT++++
++++Personal vox-log of Magos ÜÂCþófé»¨LîƒÃËz»xAÍs“²[[CORRUPTION DETECTED]]++++
++++Thought for the Day: Success is commemorated. Failure merely remembered.++++
It galls me to admit that occasionally, RARELY, my brilliance is insufficient to solve a problem. Whatever damnable heretek came up with whatever powers this Ziggurat, I cannot understand it. I have spent weeks analyzing every bolt, every rivet, every unhallowed leyline of power and yet I am no closer to understanding its nature. With regret and chagrin, I have put down my other works and followed the rest of the Seven to Kymerus; the pirate clan that Noxias and Able seem to have ties to believe that the Temple of Lies holds a book that they require in order to enact repairs upon the foul device.
Carrion Corpse had changed quite drastically since our last visit; while much of the town remained a crumbling cess-pit, new buildings had sprung up with incredible swiftness, swelling to well over triple its original size, seemingly in the middle of some sort of industrial revolution. The architecture bore no resemblance to what we had seen earlier, incorporating traditional Imperial styles with Tzeentchian iconography. Despite my general disinterest in the conditions of the populace, they practically fell over themselves to regail me with tales of their various plights and pleasures. Most interesting was the fact that those who believed they had done something to displease Elika the Seer were now trapped in the original ghetto-like areas of Carrion Corpse, unable to leave the planet or go anywhere else with better chances.
I met back up with the rest of the Seven in the Broken Halo, the crashed bulk-lifter that served as Kymerus’ sole inn and bar, only to find that the entirety of their plans for finding the book consisted of climbing the walls of the Library and ‘seeing what happens’. Despite the fact that we are known criminals on this world, The Seer wishes us dead for slaying her erstwhile master, not one of us knows the first thing about climbing, and we don’t even have any cog-damned ROPE. Claudanis was the most vocal advocate of this plan, naturally.
And so, we proceeded to the Library. Unsurprisingly, almost all of us suffered wounds from the viciously spiked walls, despite Able’s attempts to bend them back out of the way. Despite Iisk’s swift medical attention, none of our wounds would stop bleeding unless we moved cautiously; Photep’s witchsight revealed the spikes had ensorcelled edges that slowly ate away at flesh that came into contact with it.
Our attempts at sneaking past the Library’s guards bore little more fruit. To no great surprise, a group of seven people – four of whom wear power armour, one of whom is now permanently wreathed in flame – have trouble sneaking through gardens that have next to no cover. It was only a matter of time before we had our first encounter with the Library’s guardians, though Photep’s quick-thinking bodyswitch with one of the guards, Claudanis was able to sneak up behind the soldiers and slice their necks in twain with typically-messy results.
Able’s familiarity with starship design allowed him to guide us to an airlock that allowed us the run of the maintainence tunnels that wended their way through the Library, allowing us unfettered access to almost everywhere, though the paths were wending and difficult to comprehend. Shortly after breaching the entrance, we found ourselves above the main antechamber, where we overheard Elika arguing with a large power-armoured man, seemingly in the service of a man called Keilrus. Where have I heard that name before..?
Taking little interest in Elika’s histrionics, we continued our way up the ship-library, with Iisk plucking memories from the guards and librarians to lead us towards the book we sought. Several hours passed, and we found the dusty alcove, filled to the brim with books of all kinds. Unwilling to risk drawing in more guards, Photep decided to try his bodyswitching trick again, replacing first the guard and then the taking the form of the librarian inside, retrieving the book with nary a moment’s pause. ‘The Care and Feeding of Lumenwraiths’. The blasted generator’s a bio-hybrid! No wonder I couldn’t understand how everything fit together, the creature must have died years ago and rotted away!
Apparently one of the others had been asked to save a prisoner in here, so we continued through the vents to the upper levels of the Library, following Iisk’s breadcrumb trail of pilfered memories to a vault that dwarfed our own incarceration system. Able’s native talent at dissembling the machine spirits of security systems allowed us an overview of the prisoners contained within. With malice aforethought and intent to extract our target without being noticed, a code was overridden. The most heavily sealed door in the complex retracted adamantine bolts threaded through its core, while warp-energy flared and faded into nothingness as the psychic shields fell. Watching through the auspex-feeds, even I couldn’t help but shudder in horror at what daintily stepped through. Blessed Tesla, it wasn’t just a daemon. It was a daemon PRINCE. The burning sigil of Slaanesh was proudly displayed across her chest, while a whip of crackling energy coelesced into her hand and then immediately struck out, slaying a dozen guards at once. Claudanis, Barak and Photep’s drone all leapt out of the control room, bellowing with fury about anyone going near their beloved lady.
Close to a hundred guards fell by our hand, with no losses on our parts for once. Working quickly, we found Sienna, the woman we had been tasked with finding. I reprogrammed the cells to activate after thirty minutes; after all, what better time to slip out of a fortress than when there’s a full-blown prison riot and breakout behind you? Despite her apparent mindwipe, Sienna proved surprisingly capable at guiding us to an exit from the Library, bringing us to a small balcony about halfway up the spire’s side. calling in our dropship and foing our best to fight off the screamers that were attempting to eat the craft alive. I must say, blasting plasma in low orbit at a daemon through the half-open landing doors of that rustbucket the pirates keep giving us is… a unique experience.