To Plunder The Stars Themselves, Episode III

[Lysimachus]

Squad Alpha:

 

Vesalius: Rolling Rocks is just as it appears from the outside. A ghost town becoming a ruin.

 

There is a single main 'street' running east-west, though it is really little more than a gap between the various buildings. Besides the mine entrances and warehouses, there is a general store at the western end with a tall radio tower beside it. All is quiet. The street is empty. Well, except for the three bodies lying in the dust in front of the store. There is no immediate sign of what has felled the crewmen. All are intact and there is no blood visible on the ground around them.

 

***

 

Opposed Awareness Tests:

v. Concealment: Pass, 1DoS, Vesalius wins.

v. Silent Move: Pass, 2DoS, Opponent wins (barely)

 

I will say that who- or whatever is in the settlement has heard something as you moved, and is on alert, but does not spot you and does not know where you are.

 

If you wish to move up and examine the crew more closely, you may make an Easy (+10) Awareness or a Medicae Test to discover what has happened to them?

[Commissar Molotov]

The Traveller motions to Svelk, bidding him to follow on his predatory instincts and lend aid to the Apothecary.

 

"Devastators," he voxes Decimus and Draak, "move to provide overwatch if necessary."

 

The Traveller considers possibilities like a collector opening a box of slides and holding each to the light in turn. Could the Sisterhood have prepared an ambush? Unlikely. Their zealotry would often preclude such tactics. Had the settlers of this town descended into cannibalistic mania? Were sandworms lurking underfoot, searching for the slightest vibration?

 

He waited for more information before acting - or overreacting.

Edited October 2, 2021 by Commissar Molotov

[Machine God]

"Devastators," The Traveller ordered over the squad vox, "move to provide overwatch if necessary."

 

+ Compliance + Draak replied.

 

Muscle memory and years of experience directed his movements to provide overwatch of Svelk, Vesalius and Decimus, whilst checking Stormshroud at his six.

 

Silent Movement: AGL44 -20 (Mk 3) = 24. Result: 31, Fail.

Concealment: AGL44 -20 (Mk 3) = 24. Result: 34, 1 DoF

 

Draak stomped off.

 

(Edit: Typo)

Edited October 2, 2021 by Machine God

[Beren]

The second The Traveller assents, Svelk begins to lope off towards the tallest building he can see. He doesn't attempt to hide his approach.

 

That would be rather pointless, given what's happening next.

 

The roar of his jump-pack announces his presence to the city as he hurtles up through the air, feeling the ground's attempts to drag him back down. He has his axe-rake out as he slams into his point of contact, using it to anchor himself if necessary. First he ensures he is alone atop his perch, sweeping for any routes f ascent to his position. Then he turns to surey the town below.

[Necronaut]

Squad Alpha

 

Vesalius peered out from his hiding place at the felled shuttle crew. The deserted street was eerily quiet, and he scanned up and down its length searching for any obvious threats. He half expected an errant tumbleweed to bounce across the dusty street to punctuate the scene.

 

A game of cat and mouse, is it? Surely I was heard during my approach?

 

He pushed his frustration aside to focus on the matter at hand; he had unwittingly stepped on a rotted floor panel in one of the buildings he had passed through, crashing down into the basement level below. The apothecary had prepared to be swarmed within a matter of minutes, but nothing had transpired. The guardian of this township was either deaf or very patient.

 

He voxed to the squad, +Traveller, I have located the shuttle crew. Who or whatever has subdued them has not seen fit to investigate. I am moving in for a closer inspection.+

 

He heard the roar of Svelk's jump pack in the distance and stifled a growl of annoyance at the void warrior's lack of subtlety. He crept onward, closing the distance with the bodies of the squad's mortal retainers, toggling his helm's diagnostic system to start taking in information.

 

Medicae Test:

I52(+40+10): 102

Medicae: 1d100 83

83 -- Pass, 1 DoS

Edited October 2, 2021 by Necronaut

[Lysimachus]

Squad Alpha:

 

Vesalius: You edge forward and carefully check the first crewman, who has collapsed into the shadows at the very edge of the street.

 

Surprisingly, the man is still alive, breathing slowly but evenly? Quickly you run your hands across his body, searching for any sign of injury. As your hand moves over his right leg, it catches on something sticking out from his uniform. You pull it free and hold it up to the light. A steel dart with synthetic feathers, such as might be used in a medical tranquilizer gun?

 

You are about to alert the squad with your discovery when several things happen. Firstly there is a roar of thrust followed by a loud clang, both deafeningly loud in the silence, as Svelk fires his jump pack and sails through the air to land on one of the corrugated metal rooftops overlooking your position. He leans out, axe-rake supporting his weight as he hangs there like some vast ceramite gargoyle.

 

A moment later there is a noise of movement from the interior of the store. It feels as though it is deliberately loud, made to let you know someone is present. Then deep voice, gruff with age, suddenly shouts out.

 

"You Astartes out there! You Iron Gods! We surrender! I'm coming out, hold your fire!"

 

A man to match the voice appears in the door frame. Lanky, dark-skinned, white-haired but still strong and moving with a certain physical grace. His face is twisted into a grim frown and he carries a short, heavy shotgun with the barrel held upright in one hand well away from his body.

 

"Your serfs are fine. Just having a nap. We wouldn't have taken them out if we'd realised who they were with," he explains with just a hint of nervous fear. "Not looking for any trouble, you understand, but visitors here aren't common. Or friendly when they do show up. A man's got to be ready to stand up and protect his home when he has to. But now I've seen you, I'm sure you aren't here for us."

 

***

[Necronaut]

Squad Alpha

 

+I wish to amend my previous communication: I -- we have made contact,+ he looked pointedly up at Svelk, +with a mortal who appears to be familiar with our organization. Please advise.+

 

He then stood and addressed the white-haired man, his voice crackling over his helm's vox-speakers, +Identify yourself, mortal. And tell your friends to come out. No surprises.+

[A.T.]

Odysseus stood with the devastators, watching the scene unfold. For a habitat so close to the stronghold of the Sororitas this place had none of the signs that would be expected, no praising of the God Emperor nor towering symbols to his authority. What kind of ally had Varn found here?

[Black Cohort]

Decimus stands with his heavy bolter pointed in the general direction of the newly revealed person, who has a surprising amount of knowledge for a villager.  If you didn't know his heavy bolter has a suspensor you would assume he isn't ready to fire it.

[Lysimachus]

Squad Alpha:

 

"Formerly Captain Tokunbo Manaheim of the 113th Viordan Rifles," the man grunts. "Toks these days."

 

'Toks' looks up suddenly at one of the mine shaft entrances overlooking the street.

 

"Bobs!" he yells. "Stand down and show yourself, lad! We're parleying!"

 

There does not seem to be anything within the portal where Toks is looking, but suddenly a shape moves. A figure stands, but this does not increase its eye level by much. A ratling, clothed in theadbare urban fatigues and carrying a long, slender rifle with a large scope. The source of the tranq darts? He wears a heavy, flat cap pulled low over his eyes and strands of red-gray hair stick out from under its edge. He waves back at the other resident.

 

"Old friend of mine." Toks continues. "Now, is it just you two (OOC: I'm not sure if he can see the Devs/others yet?) or are there more of you out there? You're welcome to come inside and talk."

 

***

[Mazer Rackham]

Squad Beta:

 

Orphiel lays out the information he's given/learned in order to have everyone on the same page.

 

+Where to?+ he asks his comrades, his voice an invitation, not a demand.

[Necronaut]

Squad Alpha

 

Vesalius briefly looked up at Svelk again and replied, +Your town looks as if it has been abandoned for some time, and yet you persist here, removed from the nearby hive-city, and in the shadow of the convent. A curious place to live for two Guard veterans. Or perhaps there is more than meets the eye here, hm?+

 

He stood and flicked the tranq dart away; its feathered shaft tumbled lazily through the air before landing in a plume of dust. The wind whistled through the empty buildings, carrying the scents of corroded iron and wood rot.

 

+Tell me, former Captain Mannheim of the 113th Viordan Rifles, why should my associate and I mince words with you, when it would be just as expedient for us to flay you alive and leave your bones for the scavengers?+

 

Intimidate:

S57

Intimidate: 1d100 44

44 -- Pass, 1 DoS

Edited October 4, 2021 by Necronaut

[Lysimachus]

Squad Alpha:

 

Disposition: Brave = -10 to Intimidate Test, means Pass with 0 DoS

 

Toks swallows and forces an amicable grin. He stands the shotgun on the floor, though he is very careful to do so without ever pointing it in Vesalius' direction.

 

"Oh, if we're getting into all that, I'm gonna need a drink."

 

Again carefully and slowly he reaches back into the doorway and brings out a crude earthenware jug and several tin mugs. He pours some clear liquid into one of the mugs, then holds up the larger receptacle before placing it on the floor between you.

 

"Help yourselves," he says before swigging from his cup and wincing. "Bobs distills it out back. Tastes god awful, but I think it's strong enough that it might even take the edge off for a Space Marine?"

 

He takes another swig and sits down on the wooden stoop.

 

"I've done my bit of service. More than one hundred five years, man and boy." He grins. "Rejuvenat treatments are great things for us mortals. Not that I've had that pleasure in near thirty years..." He looks around. "Settled here. 'Retired from active duty' they call it. Always liked these mining towns. Grew up in Hive Quintus over on Prime, so felt right at home under rock, but you get the fresh air here too! Bobs was our Company scout, decided he'd had enough too so he joined me. We found this place. Weren't many living here even back then, and those that were either died or went away looking for..." he waves a hand casually "...something. Me and Bobs didn't mind. We weren't looking for company." He points at the scarecrows. "Hence our sentries."

 

Toks smiles again, then his face becomes troubled.

 

"Met Ags out here too."

 

He pauses, looking east along the street towards the Convent.

 

***

 

We'll assume that in the intervening time, anyone who wishes to have done so will have entered the settlement, so anyone who wants to be involved in asking questions (or helping themselves to a drink!) can do so freely!

[Ancient_Sobek]

Squad Beta

 

+This market seems like a good a place as any to start. If the target has been selling off items from the ship it would make sense that he would set up shop there. We may find him, or rival “businessmen” he has run afoul of.+

 

+Do we continue this ruse+ he said, gesturing to their panoply. +Or would we invite mistrust in any potential informants dressed like this?+

[Commissar Molotov]

Placeholder

 

The Traveller enters but says little, content to let the mortal make his own decisions about who is in charge.

 

He does not remove his helm, and avoids the alcohol, disdainful of it.

 

He is able to discern that "Ags" is Agnetha.

[Lysimachus]

Squad Beta:

 

Holger looks down at his crimson coat and grins.

 

"You make a good point, my lord S'ynek. I believe your outfits will not raise too many questions, but my own might."

 

He casually pulls the Naval garment off, balls it up and kicks it away into a corner of the car. Beneath is another coat; thinner, darker, slightly threadbare and scuffed.

 

"As to your other recommendation, I think it is very much the kind of place Lang might have set himself up. A comfortable enough living, and good connections mean plenty of customers?" He shrugs. "We'll need to watch our backs a lot more down there than we did with those fools in orbit, though. Down there, overconfident, careless people don't live very long."

 

***

 

The market is massive, on several levels but covering a total surface area easily ten kilometres in length and width. Some of the successful sellers are more settled, their outlets in actual buildings or constructed into the structure of the Hive itself, under arches or between thermal vents. Other traders are less well established. They sell their wares from vehicles, crudely made stalls or from about their own person. There is a hum and bustle here, both from the vast machinery of the Hive and from the thousands of people who flow around the market.

 

The products being offered could not be more diverse. Traders haggle with craftsmen over materials and tools. Other merchants hawk clothing, jewelry and trinkets of all sorts. Food stalls are surrounded by odours both suspect and enticing. A few are selling the bodies of various small creatures, some mammalian and others... less so. Locally caught game, perhaps? On one blood-stained corner a crowd gathers to watch a barber provide dental 'care' to a screaming patient in an operating chair.

 

Even here on a world far from the front lines of any battlefront or campaign, there are several stands selling weapons. Blades and crude stub and auto guns mostly. A far cry from the precision implements of death that you each carry about your persons, but still potentially lethal.

 

Holger's manner is different again. Suddenly he fits in perfectly to this new environment, a hunched, somehow older Hive trader of middling prosperity.

 

"I suggest we split up. Your size is disguisable to an extent, but the more of you there are together, the more obvious it becomes. Perhaps someone here can provide us with a location for Lang?"

 

***

 

It is fairly obvious that Holger thinks he will handle this part of the mission better alone, but maybe you can surprise him? Split up as you think best - as individuals or perhaps at most two together - and approach whichever stall holders you feel might be most knowledgeable (Feel free to be creative regarding the appearance and/or personality of the merchants you speak to!) Along with whatever narrative you want to include, roll a Charm, Inquiry or Interrogation Test to go with it and we'll see how the traders respond!

[Mazer Rackham]

Squad Beta:

 

Orphiel allowed Holger to go, feeling his teeth meet.  Standing under a heat extraction fan a full four cubits broad and tall, covered by a rattling grate of fine mesh, the sound of the machinery was a monotonous hum, allowing him to think.  The Remembrancer - no that wasn't right.  Describing Holger as anything other than an Agent was a fallacy, but he was right, they all had to watch their backs.  Especially from each other.

 

The weight of Argo in his satchel, and the spread of destructive devices across his hips was reassuring.  Few were the attitudes a plasma pistol set to Maximal couldn't remedy.

 

He let his mind wander to the stalls and their attendant traders.  In the corner of the bazaar stood a ramshackle tavern, with burly brawlers pretending to lounge around.  Hired muscle keeping the peace in order to finance their extortion racket probably.  Local enforcement would let grease slide on those wheels - no paperwork and a quick punch-up would settle everything.  What Hive Beak would want to be bothered by that over his Ptruvian Amasec and Mellowbreads?  A wry smile twisted his lips at the memories.

 

Interacting with the assembled scum would prove...frustrating, he was certain.  As soon as any questions were asked, they'd either clam up, lie through their teeth or point blank deny any involvement.  No, this Naval Officer, Lang was an idiot if he set up shop here on his own account.  If he knew the significance what he had, he would undoubtedly use a fence.  Asking blunt questions of such an accomplice would tip the bastard off.  Unless...

 

Perception Check:

Per 49 + 10 (Heightened Senses) = 59

D100: 015 PASS, Plus 4 DoS

 

There.

 

Orphiel appreciated a professional at work, and if pushed, would even consider himself to be one.  With a quick step, he moved forward, arm shooting out like a striking snake, the movement hidden by the hustle and bustle.  His sleeve hid the wrist he gripped, and he effortlessly pulled the smaller human being into the shadow beneath the extractor fan.  A small hand beat at his arm.

 

+Stand still, and be silent, or I will tell those men,+ he jerked the adolescent in the direction of the thugs, +that you have taken their money.+ He spoke flatly.  It was not a threat, but a promise, and the depth of his voice, plus the slight reverberation added an odd quality to it.

 

Intimidate Check:

Str 46 (no PA!)

D10: 052 FAIL, No DoF.

 

The cutpurse and pickpocket, swathed in coat, hat and scarf, ceased their protestations.  The defiance continued verbally, words choking from an indignant, young female throat, and dirty cheeks.  "I ain't done nuffin'.  Go feth a grox, ya big oik!"  Her outrage was lost in the hubble-bubble of caterwauling hawkers, and the harlots of the fleshpits parading their...wares.

 

+A young lady should not know those words,+ Orphiel calmly chastised.  He squeezed her caught wrist.

 

A purse bulging with Thrones fell out of her hand and slapped onto the floor with a tight clink.  She had the grace to blush and tried to shrug.  "Oops."

 

He let go of her, squatting to pick up the bag.  Lowering himself on his haunches, his blank visor stood almost at the same height as her head.  She carefully watched him, dividing her attention between him and the cutthroats lounging at the den.  She began to rub her wrist, a cloud of resentment building.

 

He would pierce that now.

 

+A trade.  This purse, your freedom, and my silence in return for information.  Gossip, if you will.  What harm is there in gossip?+

 

Interrogation Check:

WP 56 + 20 (Interrogation) = 76

D100: 024 PASS, Plus 5 DoS

 

He saw the wavering in her bright blue eyes, the conspiratorial silence between them.

 

Orphiel smiled.

 

Silence always wins.

 

Note to GM, I'll dump this if it's no good for you.  

 

EDIT: Typo's, Formatting, Grammar fixed (Take 2!)

Edited October 4, 2021 by Mazer Rackham

[Machine God]

Squad Alpha

 

Draak had used the noise caused by Svelk's jetpack to mask his approach to Vesalius' position to provide overwatch.

 

Consequently Draak had heard the mortal Toks speak to Vesalius and the offer of alcohol.

 

Sometime later The Traveller entered the area and made his presence known.

 

Draak stomped over and poured a measure of alcohol into one of the tin mugs. A straw extruded from Draak's helmet and Draak swallowed the alcohol.

 

TGH49 +20 Preomnor = 69. Result: 67, Pass. Oolitic Kidney re-roll: 24 (4 DoS) Pass

 

"Good fuel for Rhino's" Draak replied. Draak then stomped away to provide overwatch.

 

(Edit: Changed to speech marks)

Edited November 22, 2021 by Machine God

[Lysimachus]

Squad Alpha:

 

Toks smiles at Draak's jest, bringing him back from his reverie. He continues his tale.

 

"Sorry, you'd probably know her as Palatine Agnatha Ferrina. Used to be in charge up there at the Convent House? Throne, but she was the hardest woman I've ever met, and I've known some ballbusters in my time. Bitter as a gourd too. No surprise that, to be fair. A warrior like her, packed off to a dead end posting, no battle, no honour, no glory? And she'd been here a lot longer than I had.

 

We met and talked one day when she was passing, travelling to the Hive for something. That was, oh, fifteen years back? Got to know each other. Got... close.

 

We had maybe a few weeks together at most... damn good weeks they were... before your boss Varn turned up for the first time. Demanded whatever supplies he thought Ags could give. Called it 'tribute'. Ready to raze the House to the ground and kill them all to get it."

 

He shakes his head slowly.

 

"Ags started off all geared up to take him on, but she knew she'd lose. Twenty, maybe thirty Sisters against twice that many Marines? Now, that wouldn't have bothered her at all half a century ago. But after all those years wasted, the idea of 'dying for the God-Emperor' had properly had the shine taken off it - and most of the other Sisters, who'd been there just as long, felt the same way.

 

Truth is, Ags was happy for the first time in decades, and she couldn't do it. She wanted to live. Wanted me." He shrugs. "So she made a deal instead. And we lived. Her sneaking out to see me, me sneaking up to the House. Like Emperor-damned teenagers! But it poisoned us. The guilt, I mean. In the end she told me not to come back and we didn't part on the best terms. Haven't seen her in near ten years now."

 

He sighs.

 

"But she always said if her 'sisters' turned up, you might not be too far behind. Well, her sisters showed up here about eight months back. I watched the Emperor-bothering shrews roll right past here myself. Figured you'd be along too, soon as your 'tribute' stopped arriving. Wondered if you'd pass by this way."

 

He takes another swig from the mug.

 

"I reckon my Ags is months dead and burned... maybe not in that order either. Can't see these new Sororitas seeing the lighter side of making deals with pirates, right? I stayed out of it like she told me, but I've spent the last eight months wishing I'd done something to help her."

 

He sighs deeply, then slams the now empty tin down on the stoop, a decision suddenly made.

 

"If you're here to bring them down, then I'll help any way I can."

 

***

[Necronaut]

Squad Alpha

 

Vesalius found himself somewhat amused by the human's nervous confidence in the face of the threat of ultraviolence. A life with the Guard must inure one to such horrors. He followed Toks's gaze up the long street in the direction of the Convent, then turned back. The rest of Cutlass had started to emerge from the surrounding buildings and they arrived in a disorderly fashion.

 

The man's story came unbidden, as if he had been waiting years to tell it. A tale of love, intrigue and loss. Mortals were intriguing to Vesalius, from a purely clinical perspective. Had he a shred of humanity in his cold hearts, he might have felt some sympathy for the man. But he was nothing if not a hardened killer, and an utterly remorseless one at that.

 

+Very well, Toks. Your tale has been most illuminating; our business here is our own. If you wish to help then any knowledge you can share of the Sisters' fortifications would be most welcome.+

 

The apothecary looked at the Traveller, wondering to himself what dark paths his erstwhile leader walked in the recesses of his mind.

[Lysimachus]

Squad Alpha:

 

Toks looks at the Apothecary, evaluating his words, and then finally nods.

 

"Aye, I've been there more than a few times. It looks like a damn church - no surprises there - but there's a solid defensive structure underneath. Big too. As I understand it, the Order of the Unbroken Crown was more than eight hundred Sororitas strong when it was built and they made sure they had room to grow. Most of that is empty now, of course. Last time I was there, the Crown had no more than a score of warriors rattling around the whole place. Even now, with this new lot added, there can't be more than sixty in total there? And that's assuming they didn't just lock up or kill all of Ags' girls as soon as they got here."

 

He grimaces thoughtfully, then shakes himself and continues.

 

"Still, even with only forty defenders, that'd be a serious fight to force your way in the front door. But there is another way, one that Ags showed me years ago. A few miles south of the main structure, hidden higher up in the mountains, there's a Sally port." He grins. "Sisterhood couldn't bring themselves to call it an escape hatch, although that's more or less what it is. Not been used in centuries, except by me. I doubt whether they'd even be guarding it."

 

He frowns.

 

"These Martyred Lady types do seem a bit more determined to do things right, though… more devout, I guess? They sure weren't quiet when they first arrived, or when they've gone out campaigning since. You can hear them from miles away. Gunning their engines and singing their bloody hymns over the vox!"

 

As Toks finishes speaking, almost on cue, there is a sudden crackle on the squad link and faintly from a vox set within the store, a signal broadcast on a short range wide band frequency so that all may hear it. It is the harmonious sound of female voices raised in praise of the Emperor of Mankind.

 

Toks spins around at the noise to look worriedly into the store.

 

"...Oh, hellfire."

 

***

 

Svelk: Far above the rest of the team, you can look east towards the source of the signal. Perhaps twenty kilometres out, you can see a dust trail approaching at speed along the crude road that leads towards the Convent House.

[Black Cohort]

"Sounds like the time for subtlety has passed at least for now.  What is our best chance for an ambush?  The more we kill here, the fewer remain to defend their fortress."

[Commissar Molotov]

"Take up concealed positions," the Traveller voxes to the rest of the squad. "Attack only once we have an understanding of the enemy's strength."

[Machine God]

+ What about the unconscious shuttle crew + Draak asked.

[Xin Ceithan]

+++ Well, we could hose them down with the tube cleansing fluid that passes for a drink here. It might actually convince the Sisters that the shuttle was indeed in trouble…+++

 

This time the whirring shrug us accompanied by a low humming as the Grav-shears on Ithan’s shoulder cycle up.

 

+++Or help me drag them out of sight…hhhmm….

Brother Apothecary - any idea how long they’ll be out?+++