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To Plunder The Stars Themselves, Episode III


Lysimachus

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Odysseus steps from the shuttle with the rest, landing without grace the ground around him sank as though some weight far greater than his own had struck it. Subtle traces of witchfire betrayed the presence of a kineshield, weak enough that its presence had gone unnoticed until now.

 

AG test 72

Damage roll 1+1 = no damage.

 

(force dome doesn't specify the limits of its protection against 'environmental effects', though it's just included here for fluff)

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It doesn’t really take an Initiation into the deeper mysteries of the Great Work to unsettle a Machine Spirit.

In fact, these things are skitterish to begin with. That is the whole point of teaching the basics of their calming and beseeching their aid to the laity in the first place. Any  idiot can cause them to go haywire.

 

The  trick then, here, lies in unsettling the thing just enough to make a plausible excuse but keep the essence of it intact. There was no need for something as drastic as blowing up the engines and Ithan knew better than to introduce some random lines of s rap code into something that was supposed to get his bulk back up into the sea of stars.

 

So, he told it a story.

 

The shuttle’s machine spirit was, like most of it’s pattern, a sturdy thing at heart. It did his job, trodding along and did not bother to worry about the universe around it too much. That was how it was intended by the Great Maker.

A notion to suffer through an crisis of existantial anxiety was not a desirable trait in something designed for atmospheric re entry.

 

But everybody worries about something…

 

Ithan told it a tale of being forgotten, neglected and left behind. Unwanted, it was not allowed to fulfill it’s purpose, gathering dust, bleaching under a cold alien sky. Abandoned. Purposeless.

 

He let that feeling sink in just enough, then padded it’s metaphorical back and assured it that he’d back.

 

Unplugging, he winked at the pilot.

 

”She’s going a to be a bit skittish, but don’t worry, If any one asks, tell them she has been acting up for some time. Like..”

 

his thought trailed off. Ithan realized he knew next to nothing about the pilot.. or the brothers he was following onto a new world. Aah.. an adventure! His mood brightened instantly.

 

”You know, like the rats get before there is a storm on the warp? All skittish? Like they can feel it?”

 

The pilot nodded and gave him a thumbs up. If there were two things that had followed Mankind across the stars, it was these two things. War. And the rats.

 

They shared a laugh. 
 

Then Ithan walked to the hatch and dropped like a stone

 

 

 

 

Edit: Agilliy Check (+10): 42 (Pass), Tech Use - 10: 46 (Pass, DGS depending on use of Electro-Craft, Bionics if that is required / possible here )

Edited by Xin Ceithan
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Svelk watched Decimus vanish pout of the shuttle's rear hatch, vanishing in an instant instead of drifting off. He followed.

 

The instant he did so he felt the planet's anger, felt it seize his body, yanking him towards it. The void was patient, inexorable. It was the enemy of all balls of rock like this. The planet was temperamental, impulsive, eager in its desire to greet and crush his body.

 

Not this time.

 

He felt the kick of his jump-pack behind him, suddenly arresting the pull of the giant's grasp. He felt his armoured boots land with an almost gentle touch. Inwardly, Svelk revelled in the small sensation of rebellion. 

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Squad Alpha:

 

It is the first time you have set foot on Viorda Secundus. Though each of you have sealed your armour, the information provided by your autosenses is like taking a deep breath of the air. It is cold here, several degrees below the planetary average, and Secundus is already a cold world. The Viorda star seems small in the cloudless pale blue sky. The atmosphere is thin, but breathable and even fresh, largely unpolluted. It might even be pleasant, once a body had adapted to it… and if one noticed such things.

 

As you cautiously move closer you can see that Rolling Rocks is much as expected: a small mining community consisting of shaft entrances, ore processors, silos, machine shops and hab units. But as a location recommended as a place to obtain shuttle repairs, it is sadly and oddly lacking? All of the structures are rusty and dilapidated, and there is no sound of industry. In fact, there are no sounds of any kind.

 

Your shuttle continues on its path, settling in the centre of the landing field in a cloud of displaced dust. There is a loud whine as the engine turbines slow and gradually stop, but there is still no movement from within the settlement.

 

***

 

Anyone please feel free to roll an Awareness Test!

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Draak ascertained from the readings on his HUD that the surroundings were slightly chilly.

 

Awareness Check, Perception 43 +20 (Auto-senses) = 63. Result: 17 - Pass (4 DoS)

 

The place was deserted.

 

Or was it?, Draak thought sweeping Grendel about and checking his arc's of fire.

 

(Edit: Awareness check plus Auto-senses).

Edited by Machine God
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„Hhhhm.“

 

Dropping to one knee, the Techmarine tilts his head, as if listening to something on the breeze.

The boltgun still on right, his left hand wanders to the collection of skulls dangling along his front. Suddenly, as if he was just becoming  aware of it, his hand closes around one of them, raising   the triple lensed trophy in front of him. 
 

A moment passes as the blank stare of the lens cluster is held  by the equally unreadable look of Autosense lenses. 

Ancient playwrights have set up  this scene a thousand times, from the lost green hills of old Albina to the dirt on some nameless backwater on the edge of the galaxy…

And in that, The  briefest of Moments, there is a touch  of… something..

 

Just a tickling  at the follicles of the hairline, the barest hint of a whisper over the vox…

 

Then it‘s gone. 
 

Ithan breaks the  stare, lowering the skull. His gaze turns to the settlement, muttering under his breath.

 

“Well, if you think so, old man“

Edited by Xin Ceithan
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Svelk glares at the cluster of buildings up ahead. He's certain he's never laid eyes on it before, and yet there's something eerily familiar tugging on the edge of his mind.

 

You hid there. Places like it. The Siynek hab-facilities, abandoned ever since the air-filtration unit cracked and poisoned everyone. The Orosken rock, a mined out asteroid that was the last survivning remnant of the system's early void explotation, long since enveloped by the Ring. Dock 16, inoperative after it gained a reputation for producing 'cursed' ships. The Erya-18 comms relay, shrouded in stellar radiation. You hid in those places the reavers had nothing to scavenge from, and from those places you hunted them.

 

He lets his weapons slip into his hand.

 

To beat: 48 (Perception 38 + Heightened Senses 10?)

d100: 60 (1 DoF)

Edited by Beren
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Squad Alpha:

 

Svelk: Though you cannot see anything in detail, your instinctive sense that this is a place long abandoned has merit. But not quite. There is still something or someone here...

 

Draak: You look across the buildings with a Devastator's eye, searching for spots that would make viable sites for enemy heavy weapons. Quickly your enhanced eyesight picks out a dozen or more shapes spread around the outlying structures in positions of height and cover. Humanoid shapes, several with slender metallic objects visibly protruding.

 

Ithan: You see the same, but it strikes you that these watchful figures are somehow preternaturally still. Beyond this, more... esoteric... sources of information are still insisting with absolute certainty: there are no living things detectable among these rooftops. After a moment of confusion, you focus your bionic eye on one of the sentries. As the implant device magnifies and sharpens the image, you see that what initially appeared to be a gun barrel is in fact not, but is rather the butt end of some long digging implement. Then you realise the truth.

 

These guardians are not soldiers, they are scarecrows!

 

***

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Ithan pads the skull on his hooded top.

“Yes. Yes. And they shall know no fear. I get it. Have this one on me, old Man”.

 

He starts laughing himself, opening the vox on the squad channel.

 

+++ So here we are. On this glorious day, the brave shovels and scaffolds of the Rockbottom Armoured Leftovers brought the vanguard of the Iron Gods to a grinding halt.+++

 

One can almost see the grin over the vox

 

+++ The Prophet and I are in agreement here. There is not a single living thing on those habs. Just some sharp sticks. A lot if dust.

Makes you wonder why they’d direct an out of luck shuttle craft out here for requesting some help? +++

 

(Edit: Spelling)

Edited by Xin Ceithan
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Redcloak's voise wandered over the squad vox channel

 

+++ There is not a single living thing on those habs. Just some sharp sticks. A lot if dust.
Makes you wonder why they’d direct an out of luck shuttle craft out here for requesting some help? +++

 

+ Scarecrows and a lot of dust. Probably radioactive dust, scarecrows for an illiterate population that wouldn't know a trefoil if it hit them in the face + said Draak

 

+ Scarecrow's of warning, but of what and which way? Keep out or do not enter, bad ju-ju + mused Draak

 

+ Ithan have you anything that could scan to see if there are any heavy rad's about? +

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Ithan shakes his head slightly, fingers drumming on the hooded remains.

 

+++ There is no indication of any traces of rad here. Above of what seems to be the norm here any ware.

No traces of Chem either, by the way +++

 

He tilts his head slightly, as if he listening to another frequency.

 

+++ Yeah. That we know of…yes. Yes, I was just getting to that. There might be still something deeper in the mines … or in shielded areas in one of the habs. +++

 

He taps the head twice, more forceful this time.

 

+++ That is the trouble with Prophets. Like to be vague… all hints and omens.. So they can wiggle their way out afterwards. +++

 

Another tap

 

+++ Or try to, at least…+++

 

He prods the skull again, leaning forward.

 

“ Not so much fun now, hmm, old man? “

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Squad Beta

 

S’ynek looks around the terminal, noting potential adversaries and escape routes. He disliked crowds, the smell of the pitiful humans a sour note to match his mood. However crowds could be useful if things turned ugly, plenty of “shields” wandering about.

 

++What do you think?++ Orphial voxxed over the squad comms.

 

++Bluffing our way past the guards should be possible. Especially if they are preoccupied detailing with that handful of self entitlement++ he motioned almost imperceptibly to the woman with all the baggage++ 

 

++I think it best you speak for us. Mortals find me intimidating for some reason. I might draw a bit too much scrutiny.++

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The Techmarine returns Svelk‘s look, holding it for moment. There is Moment of …hesistation.. consideration… communion ? Then shrugs. Reaching down, he lifts lifts the hooded skull, turning the triple eye lenses to face Svelk like some morbid puppet player.

 

+++ Right. There wasn’t time for introductions. Meet Narman Kresk…oh, I am sorry. MAGOS Narman Kresk. +++

Ithan  chuckles.

 

+++ The good Magos was a man.. a thing once a man ... who took great pride in his discoveries. A real thinker. A visionary. Very calculated, careful man  Liked to plan ahead, to play it safe. +++

 

The Techmarine tilts his head,  a quick thrust of the chin towards towards the Devastator. 
 

+++ I think he’d done splendid with Draak here. +++

 

Turning his head back, Ithan continues.

 

+++  Bit of a gloomy temper, always worrying about his possible demise and his legacy. Good at cards though. All those arms. Anyway, the not so visionary thing was that he was oath bound to our Chapter but chose not to honour these oaths. At a rather critical time..+++

 

A sigh.

 

+++ So we made him reconsider. Gave him a chance for redemption. Repay his debts. Bound his …leigh cuimnhe amhain ? His -how do you say - legitur..modo…ani, well, his ..essence…if you will. So his vision and arcana would not go to waste over a single bad decision. We ensured his legacy, if you will. +++

 

A laugh.

 

+++ That ‘s why I call him “the Prophet”, see ? He doesn’t like it. We still talk, from time to time. And I value his insights. Keeps me honest. +++

 

Ithan gestures to the other skulls dangling amidst the flowing robes.

 

+++ These aren’t for bragging, brother. They are here to serve me, as  reminders and councilors, in recognition of their life’s exploits and deeds. I share my stories with them. The Prophet. The Wayfarer. The Mourner. “ 

 

Another laugh.

 

+++One might go mad otherwise. Traveling  alone, ey?+++

Edited by Xin Ceithan
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Squad Beta:

 

++Bluffing our way past the guards should be possible. Especially if they are preoccupied detailing with that handful of self entitlement++

 

S'ynek motioned almost imperceptibly to the woman with all the baggage.

 

Orphiel considered S'ynek's observations, casting an amused eye over the subject of derision.  He wasn't wrong.  There were quite a few...hat...boxes.  He grinned, remembering the lines of servants waiting for the milliners to open, to carry the latest cranial confections to the Nobles of High Rock.

 

++I think it best you speak for us. Mortals find me intimidating for some reason. I might draw a bit too much scrutiny.++

 

You don't say? Orphiel's grin mutated into a wry smile, but it went no further.  Instead, he shrugged his arms into the sleeves of his travelling robe, the deep green a twin to that of his warplate garb, save for the missing gilded keys.

 

Speaking of unlocking...

 

+When we are close enough, I will knock those boxes over,+ he gently jabbed his chin at the perilous tower.  +Quite accidentally, of course.+

 

Orphiel bent at the waist, his pose deferential, as though in conference with a master, taking instruction.  It was an amusing deceit he used to quietly whispered to Holger through the comm-bead.  +Are you not on important business, My Lord?+

 

The human looked at him, façade intact, but eyes alight.  Holger could no doubt see a perfect, albeit dark, reflection of himself in the black mirror-glass of the carapace helmet's visor.  Orphiel's voice was precise as he remembered the scuffles outside the hatmakers.

 

+Jump the queue.+

 

EDIT: Removed contractions.

Edited by Mazer Rackham
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Perception Test:

PER51(+auto-senses) = 50 (Pass)

 

The Traveller glances up from his bolter's sight at Svelk's question, looking away from the seemingly-deserted settlement to regard first the Assault Marine, and then the Techmarine, whose grip on sanity seemed questionable indeed. Troubling, he thought.

Edited by Commissar Molotov
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Squad Beta:

 

Holger nods. He observes the PDF Lieutenant struggling with the haughty female for a few moments longer, then at the right moment - when the young man is struggling most - he steps out of line with a loud, irritated snort of impatience.

 

He stalks forward, cloak flapping and all attempt at hiding seemingly abandoned. His looming 'bodyguards' follow and Orphiel, playing the clumsy brute to perfection, catches the edge of the pile of boxes. A dozen are sent flying, spilling their contents across the grimy deck and the Noblewoman lets out a scream of pure horror.

 

Holger ignores the display. Without even stopping, he speaks coldly to the Customs man.

 

"I am Lieutenant Commander of the Imperial Navy courier St. Agabus and I don't have time for this farce. I need immediate fast track into the Hive. Hush-hush. Now."

 

Then he walks on, clearly not expecting any argument. The officer looks startled, then cringes away from the intimidating bodyguards as they pass. He looks from Holger to the Noblewoman, who is still complaining vociferously as the suddenly eager PDF troops 'help' to gather her numerous scattered belongings, and back again. Finally, with a frustrated wave to tell the two guards who have been left 'watching' the portal to move aside, he nods nervously and calls after Holger's back:

 

"Yes, yes... an honour to assist the Imperial Navy, as always..."

 

He looks like he wants to say more, to at least ask for a name. But then the Noble's voice rises again as a Guardsman lifts up some of her... personal items... and the Lieutenant winces and turns away.

 

Holger, still in character, pushes imperiously between the two guards and leads you through the portal and on towards the elevators. You wait for several minutes until one of them opens, revealing a large cargo car perhaps four metres by five and three tall. As you step inside, another man - a harried looking Administratum clerk - moves to join you in the car, but Radago looms forward with his hand raised in denial. The man shrinks back nervously from those metallic eyes and the heavy doors close and seal with a hiss.

 

Immediately the elevator drops away with acceleration similar to that of a falling drop pod. Inertial dampers negate most of the sudden g-forces, but you might still feel your stomachs twist. For a moment you all face forwards in silence, then faintly you can hear the tinny sound of an orchestral arrangement of a popular Imperial hymn.

 

It will take several minutes for the car to descend the thick cable and enter the Hive many kilometres below. Holger looks up and around you with a wide, smug grin.

 

"Even easier than I thought. How do you want to begin, my lords?"

 

***

 

@Mazer:

Some things you know from your earlier research about Viorda Prime and Hive Tertius in particular:

 

Viorda Prime:

Subsector Capital

Heavy Administratum presence.

Several dozen Hives.

Most policed by local Enforcers, Hive Primus has Adeptus Arbites Precinct-Fortress.

(Also located there are the other key Imperial institutions: Planetary Governor's palace, Adeptus Mechanicus enclave, Astropathic Choir, etc)

 

Hive Tertius specifically:

Laid out in a typical fashion: Spire, Mid Hive, Underhive, Sump.

(As mentioned, it is thought Lieutenant Lang was living somewhere lower mid-Hive)

One of the largest settlements mid-Hive is Carandaville. Basically a city within the Hive. Prosperous, largely peaceful. High level Administratum presence, like the rest of the planet. Scribes and Auditors mostly, quill-pushers! Otherwise populated by merchants, craftsmen and other civilians. Arcades, gambling houses, even a few theatres.

On one of its lower levels, Carandaville hosts a trader's Marketplace. Famous across Viorda, if of a somewhat dubious reputation. Younger members of Noble Houses known to travel down there to waste their Thrones. Criminal elements from the Underhive are thought to find their way up too...

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Squad Alpha:

 

Traveller: As your squad begin to discuss other matters, your attention returns to the target. You think you notice something flicker in the darkness of one of the mineshaft entrances higher up the side of the massive tor. Was that a movement? You focus on it, but there is nothing more visible at this distance. Long seconds pass, but there is no other sign of life from Rolling Rocks. You may need to get closer to unravel the mystery of why you were sent here.

 

***

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"The place seems to be deserted, but guarded by scarecrows" said Draak over the squad vox.

 

"Stormshroud, I take it that you have kept comm's with the Mortal's of the shuttle? Probably best if you order them into the settlement to scout around. Fodder for the guns or canaries for the mines, so to speak."

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Squad Alpha:

 

At the Traveller's order, the three crewmen disembark from the shuttle. You watch as they walk cautiously from the landing field into the settlement. While they are undoubtedly skilled in their assigned roles - after all, Varn does not allow any incompetents in his ranks - they are not trained ground troops, and it shows in their movements. The pilot and one of the gunners have holstered laspistols, the last man carries a wrench from the shuttle's toolbox. As they disappear from view into the western end of the settlement, the pilot maintains a vox link to your squad channel.

 

"Moving in now, my Lords… the place seems deserted… none of the buildings seem to be in use?"

 

Several long moments of silence. Then the clatter of something falling nearby.

 

"Wait, there's a noise!" the pilot whispers loudly down the vox, unnecessarily. "Checking it out…"

 

Another sound, this time unmistakably that of a body hitting the floor.

 

"Throne!" the pilot swears. "Hey Hans! What the hell…"

 

The pilot's voice suddenly cuts off, though the signal is still active. There is a another similar thump. The second Gunner can be heard yelling unintelligibly for a moment, apparently running away from the vox unit. Then, more faintly, there is a third thump.

 

***

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Vesalius lowered his boltgun and looked over his shoulder quizzically at the one called Redcloak. While techmarines were certainly known for their idiosyncrasies, this one seemed to border on the insane. He regarded the hulking astartes with his panoply of arcane machinery and skulls. Talek Varn certainly seemed to attract a particular type of soldier. He then glanced down at the Ogryn face stretched across his pauldron, and touched the skull tied to his belt.

 

A chorus of agonized howls reverberated within his mind as contorted, bloody corpses hung on meathooks briefly danced across his vision. Tanks filled with various organs lined the walls of the charnel house, their contents illuminated with a sickly light. His gauntlets were covered in a chunky, almost-black fluid. Heavy footsteps thudded nearby. He calmly washed his hands under water flowing from a spigot. Blood, bone, flesh, viscera; the screams reached a deafening crescendo. They were coming.

 

The apparition was dispelled by incoming chatter on the vox from the shuttle's crew. His head snapped up and his eyes narrowed at the abrupt end of the communique.

 

+Traveller,+ he voxed, +With your leave I will reconnoiter the township. I will contact you shortly.+

 

The apothecary disappeared into the nearby rocks and scrub brush in a low crouch, his decades of reconnaissance training taking over.

 

Assuming +0 tests?

 

Concealment Test:

AG63(+10): 73

Concealment Test: 1d100 2

2 -- Pass, 7 DoS

 

Silent Move Test:

AG63(+10): 73

Silent Move: 1d100 65

65 -- Pass, 0 DoS

Edited by Necronaut
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Svelk glares towards the town, and glances at where their Apothecary has vanished before turning to face the Traveller, eying him warily. 

 

+++I can get a view from one of the building-tops in there easily enough. Might be enough to catch a glimpse of something, or flush them out, or just draw their attention away from Vesalius. If he gets in trouble I'll be in position to respond easily enough. Our absolute surprise will be gone, but if they heard the pilots speaking over their comms, that is fragged anyway.+++

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