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Inquisitor Claire Lennox Paradene-Kirby

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Oct 19th, 2013
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  1. Inquisitor Claire Lennox Paradene-Kirby was making her way down sub-access corridor thirteen, a tight damp place in the bowels of her small transport ship - it was only wide enough to comfortably let a single man walk abreast and along its walls, blackened by a millennia of neglect coiled an endless amount of reinforced plasteel pipes like some deep snake pit on abandoned feral world.
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  3. Her high heels hit the ground with a low pitter-patter, the sound dulled in the small corridor, Claire was in no hurry today. No, today she was making her way to another pointless meeting - a supposed "heretic" of a mutant cult had been found. As she rounded a corner heading deeper into the voidships belly she snorted at this. He was a low-hab worker, some sort of minitorum clerk no doubt, perhaps a lesser cogboy - it mattered not to her, he was no heretic mutant - scans had reveled no taint in his system when he entered the ships gene scanner, a simple vox from her own staff had told her that long before she began this trek. Usually, she'd just let someone dispose of him, usually she'd simply have her many mooks attend the issue, usually she was not this bored.
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  5. Today was different she mused while beginning a climb up the staircase that ended the corridor, carved in the same fashion as the corridor to such an extent one could be led to believe it had been smashed together in some ancient battle eons ago, to form a staircase. Such was after all the nature of the STC patterns that made up the imperial living, still - Claire paid no heed to this as she stepped into the lit up path the old staircase led into. A sign on the wall gently informing her that she'd made it into "Primary holding area #14".
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  7. Her destination was on the other side of the well lit corridor, past the rows upon rows of brigs she used to ensure the safety of the imperium, past the slightly gilded pathway of brass and copper that coiled around the cold gates leading into the dark hard-cut brigs. A simple thing really, outside: The gently light and subtle and exquisite carvings of the imperium, inside: The deep harsh darkness awaiting all those that would abandon the light of the emperor.
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  9. She'd designed it herself - it was practical physiological warfare. Besides the brass and copper worming its way across the floor and around the prisoners gates was reassuring, just like the emperor effigies painted across the roof, they made her feel more at ease when wandering amongst the mutant and the heretic.
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  11. Moving her finger across her fringe correcting her shoulder length blond hair Claire walked towards the prison cell holding her hab-worker, noticing the two large men standing guard over the door. It always gave her a twinge of annoyance when she observed the two feral worlders, some of her most trusted muscle. They where two massive slabs of man, and their background of non-imperial status cut of from the rest of humanity she had hoped would have been enough to.. alleviate her issue.
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  13. To bad they where both dump as rock, and by the time they realized what they where actually hired for they where already properly indoctrinated into the imperal fold and fully understood the dangers of courtship with a inquisitor. Yes, Claire was a real catch - she knew that much, and subtle enchantments and genetic manipulation and kept it that way across the years. A hefty bosom and fine shapely legs, her blond hair framing her feminine face like a painting. Surly, across any world she'd have no issues getting in bed with just about any man.
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  15. If it was not for the rosette hanging around her neck.
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  17. Had she known that every man in the imperium would run at the sight of her, she'd never signed up for this work. Sure, she'd occasionally get some - an undercover mission usually lent her that, the rare brave upper-hiver that figured she was the Inquisitors aid. Alas, the second they realized, right out the door.
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  19. Her face clenched hard in anger she approached the two men by the door. "Status" she barked.
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