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Floating on the silence of the void, the Ventraxis Pattern Inquisitorial Cruiser, Fulgor Officiosusc is perched like an eagle. The strike craft under Inquisitorial domain glares down at the bustling world below, overseeing the torrential flow of void vessels as they descend towards the dark side of Vouxis Prime. Countless elements of the Imperial Navy amass ferrying manpower to awaiting warp worthy craft, while their great gunships anchor further out. In the burn of activity none offered the Fulgor Officiosusc unwanted attention. Glowing golden, a web of light marks the skeletal frame of the capital city of the planet. Trudland. Surely none below knew of the events transpiring far above within the shadowy ship's command bridge.
The Warband finds themselves there to witness such actions. The well maintained and orderly interior is lined with banners of the inquisition and even older allies, candles and incense burn stowed away within eon ordained positions. Flickering in the gloomy corners of the large multileveled space. Cogitators and display instruments blip and bleep valuable information in the art of spacefaring as crewmen work. The cruiser is abuzz with activity, helmsmen relay orders as the ancient vessel begins the copious traditions necessary to pivot from it's near stationery position.
