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812.M41 - The Gottshall of the Sanctuary of Truth Having boarded the Sanctuary of Truth singly or in small groups, the registrants likewise entered the Gottshall in dribs and drabs. There, bravado and confidence shrank away when faced with the immensity of the chamber. The air seemed thin, like it struggled to fill the cavity, and the perimeters were lost in darkness. Some of the learned among the registrants guessed the chamber once accommodated giant war engines or perhaps even a mighty Titan. Those speculators would have been wrong. Sacred info-vaults beneath Mars itself spoke of the Gottshall only briefly, and listed its purpose as, “an immensity purpose-built to befit the honor of the Engine Sacramentum.” No one knew what that was, but, if anything, the ancient text understated the Gottshall’s dimensions. An Imperator Titan could have stretched to its full height and had room to spare beneath the ceiling. A demi-regiment of Baneblades parked flank-to-flank across the plasteel deck would not have reached the side walls. Even while it took hours for the tens of thousands of registrants to properly assemble inside, they did not fill a quarter of the available space. Of the registrants themselves, all wore a Mordian-pattern, pale carmine uniform, and that was the biggest similarity between them. Some wore the uniform as if they were born to it, and others shifted like the mechera material was digging into their skin. Many were fresh-faced young men and women of obvious noble upbringing, or at least they were clever enough to pull off such a facade. Some were hulking ex-Imperial Guard with service tattoos, ugly scars, and, more often than not, bionic prosthesis. A few, a very few, bore a witch-mark on hand, neck, or forehead, and huddled silently among their own kind. Yet, no matter their appearance or bearing, each registrant waited on one of the rough-hewn pews laid out in serried rows before the raised dais in the center of the Gottshall. A dozen straight-backed chairs stood on the dais behind a wide podium with a bronze Aquila bolted to the front. Trimmed with drab cloth, the dais was clearly not an original feature of the Gottshall, and the careful could spy Ecclesiarchy sigils peeking beneath the curtained fringe. Torches set at intervals around the pews provided the only light, and the far end of the Gottshall beyond the dais was a shadowy mystery. What little conversation there was died away when the grinding whine of rusted hinges echoed through the chamber. The sound faded quickly enough, and, in its wake, jackboots tramped. A square of praeceptors marched into the flickering torchlight with parade ground perfection. They wore sharp cut uniforms colored the same pale carmine as the registrants, and a single man, tall and broad shouldered, lead them. The square reached the rear of the dais, and stamped to a halt without any command being given. The leader continued forward. After a moment’s pause, the front rank of twelve followed him. The leader stepped onto the dais with a purpose. He had silver hair, a hawk nose and a jade-tinted monocle. A fat barreled Battlefleet Scarus service revolver rested in a holster on his right thigh, and his chest held a single service ribbon - the Obscuras Honorifica. The ex-Guard among the registrants snapped to their feet. Slowly, suspecting it was the wisest course of action, the other registrants followed suit. “Good morning,” the leader announced. He stepped behind the podium, and the praeceptors following him took their seats. Placing both hands on either side of the podium, he studied the registrants. “Take your seats.” After the shuffling of thousands of registrants ended, the leader stepped from behind the podium with white-gloved hands clasped tight behind him. “I am First Praeceptor Elbert Yohn,” the man said. Amplified by a micro-vox on his lapel, his voice carried over the registrants and echoed off the far bulkheads of the Gottshall. “You sit within the Gottshall aboard the Inquisitorial Black Ship Sanctuary of Truth.” Like a spear, Yohn pointed a finger toward the registrants. “Many have sat where you do. Many have been found wanting.” His gaze swept the crowd. “Welcome to the Schola Verus.” The praeceptors behind the dais clicked their heels together. “AVE IMPERATOR!” “Ave Imperator,” Yohn echoed. “None of you are mewling recruits or innocent babes. I doubt there’s a one of you without blood on your hands. Each of you has provided valued service to the Holy Ordos, or you would not be here. “Your masters saw potential. They, in their wisdom, believed you might, might, be worthy of the title Interrogator. Mayhap, someday, even Inquisitor.” Yohn paused. The registrants were utterly silent. He looked to one side as if recollecting something. When he spoke again his tone was softer. “It is a strange thing being an Agent of the Throne. Even stranger still to wield the ultimate sanction.” Yohn walked slowly down the length of the dais. “Some Throne agents are born killers, some barely know how to hold a sword. Among our numbers are the Imperium’s greatest minds, and its most ignorant, belligerent souls. A few possess the charisma to sway the heart of whole sectors, and I knew a mute sniper from Sameter who could annoy the God-Emperor Himself.” The First Praeceptor raised a white-gloved fist. “Yet, there is no order in the galaxy, save the High Lords, with more responsibility for the safety of the God-Emperor’s Realm than our own. Which is why you must remember what you are. “So, what are you?” No one spoke. “You are fallible. You are imperfect. You are mortal.” Yohn’s eyes snapped from registrant to registrant as if he could bore into the mind of everyone there. “Never forget it. When you do, you will fall and you will fail.” The First Praeceptor walked back behind the podium. “Now, let us briefly discuss how you will spend your time here. As many of you know, the Schola Verus housed aboard this ship is, lacking a better term, a finishing school for the Ordos Calixis, Ixaniad, and Scarus. Provided you prove worthy, you will serve your time among those conclaves, and be on the fast track to Interrogator. “If you leave here.” The First Praeceptor leaned forward. “Make no mistake. This is a dangerous place. You will be tested as strenuously as the means my praeceptors have available to them allow. Yet, no matter how harshly they push you, it will be nothing compared to what you might face enacting His Will out there.” Yohn held up a dun colored info-slate. “Each of you was given an entry dossier. This contains your probation group assignment and your designated praeceptor. Your praeceptor is your father, mother, priest, and only friend while here at the Schola Verus. Trust them, and no one else. “I will warn you only once. Everything is a test.” The First Praeceptor took a step back from the podium, and raised his chin. “You are dismissed from the Gottshall. Find your probation group, and your praeceptor. The Trial Primus begins now.” Yohn turned on his heel and marched off the dais. The square of praeceptors behind him parted neatly to allow him passage. He disappeared into darkness, and they, with one perfectly executed snap-turn, did likewise. The twelve praeceptors on the dais remained behind, glaring down at the registrants as still and as judging as cathedral gargoyles. Upon embarkation, all Stephano’s equipment was stored in a hull-cask for the duration of his instruction at the Schola Verus. His only current possessions are a Mordian-pattern schola uniform and the recently issued info-slate. Info-slates are not data-slates; they only allow the user to read the information imprinted on their drives and possess no other functionality. Stephano’s info-slate details him to Probation Group 3378 and Praeceptor Micken Urguile. It also stores a partial map of the Sanctuary of Truth (some areas are blacked out), the rules and regulations of the Schola Verus, and lists the holy mass schedule for the ship’s numerous chapels. The other registrants are filing, shuffling, or running out of the Gottshall. What does Stephano Doval do? KJDavid fucked around with this message at 22:09 on Dec 27, 2013 |
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Dec 27, 2013 21:58
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Thousands filled the Gottshall. Tens of thousands even, servant to the Emperor one and all, but even here in this massive temple of the Imperium they seemed insignificant. They were only a fraction of the hundreds of thousands of voidborn who ministered to this single ship, and those only a fraction to the billions of souls who resided in this sector, and those only a fraction to the untold trillions of the Empire. Vast and ungainly, surrounded by enemies at every corner, the Imperium stood defiant against those who would wish to see it destroyed: the mutant, the alien, and the heretic. And here, in the Gottshall of a single ship, stood the Empire of Man's greatest defense: the agents of His most holy Inquisition. They came in all shapes and flavors, from the highest spires of nobility, to the most forgotten backwater death worlds, but all had a single purpose. They were here to serve His Will. The former guardsmen and arbiters were easy to pick out of the swarm. Even in the universal carmine outfits they managed to look more crisp and composed than their comrades. The nobles were no more difficult to spot with their immaculate hair and fresh faces. The rest were a motley sort, but all seemed to have something they could be remembered by. A mole, a lazy eye, a bulby nose: something stood out in every man, but perhaps one. Stephano Doval, the Emperor's most loyal adherent, was nothing if not forgettable. He was a slim sort of man, though not starved, and strong even if it wasn't obvious. His skin was pale, but not deathly so, his hair mousey brown and thin, and his steel colored eyes were surrounded by thin lids. His ears were perhaps on the small side and pressed closely to his skull, nose aquiline but short, and chin extended briefly into a fine point. All in all Stephano was incredibly average, and entirely disreguardable. Perfect for his purpose. In the mass of acolytes he was entirely invisible. Just a single face easily passed over. He simply blended in among his peers, lingering between the clutches of softly nattering cliques at such a distance that from the outside you would never know whether he was a part of them or entirely on his own. During the Praeceptor's briefing Stephano was dutiful and silent. He stood with the others, sat when instructed, and followed every movement from the dais with absolute focus. This was his life, his purpose, his true calling. Others may have been found wanting in the past, but he would not. "So, what are you?" intoned the Praeceptor from the front. The room hung silent, but everything about Stephano from his posture to his piercing gaze spoke volumes. He was the scalpel. He was the inoculation. Agent Doval was the silent cure that attacked the cancer from the inside. When Yohn called attention to the info-slates provided Stephano took his up. Immediately he pulled up the information on Micken Urguile. "Your praeceptor is your father, mother, priest, and only friend while here at the Schola Verus. Trust them, and no one else," continued Yohn before the crowd. Stephano smiled a bit at that. A single point of contact. A single point of failure. Focusing on Urguile and that task at hand was a perfectly acceptable situation, and honestly Doval prefered to work alone. As an infiltrator relationships had to be forged and destroyed in a moment. His career was a stage of different personas, each with their own allies and ambitions, but the baseline--Stephano Doval--had none. He was just an extension of his Inquisitor's hand. The others in his group would be treated as colleagues at best and rivals at worst. After reviewing his info-slate and determining what his praeceptor looked like her joined the milling crowd of other acolytes. Growing up in a hive made it no problem at all to slip through the roiling press of bodies and in no time he was nearly at the front of Group 3378. From there, not in the front row, but neither lingering in the rear, he would observe and read his new evaluator, as well as his compatriots. For now he watched, judging how the praeceptor received his new pupils and how they would react to him in turn.
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Jan 3, 2014 02:13
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Meeting Praeceptor 3378 The vestibule outside the Gottshall was empty when the registrants arrived, but now there are dozens of velvet rope barriers snaking out of the vestibule and deeper into the Sanctuary of Truth. Stormtroopers in lacquered carapace stand at the mouth of each channel. It does not take Stephano long to notice the 4-digit number worked subtly into the decorations emblazoned across the stormtroopers' chest plate. He slips into the crowd jostling past the one marked 3378. Some of the registrants alongside walk with a purpose, others are puttering forward with confusion writ large on their faces. More than one turns around after only a few moments. Those who do not continue on, and the velvet guide ropes lead them and Stephano out of the vestibule, around the starboard flank of the Gottshall, and into lush accommodations decorated with ormolu sculptures and carpets richer than wine. There are well appointed apartments and set dining rooms beyond the velvet cordon, and the registrants are not the only persons in this area of the ship. A broad-shouldered Interrogator in a storm cloak and sallet helm marches purposefully in the opposite direction of the registrants, a cherub chattering noisily in his ear. Servants in white livery move to and fro with arms full of dishes, linens, and the stuff of high living. A pair of weapon-servitors trudge grimly behind a squat magos buzz-sputtering pure binary to himself. Neither the magos, the servants, or the Interrogator so much as gift the registrants with a glance. Stephano keeps his feelings to himself, but no few of the registrants frown and mutter when the velvet rope leads them into an altogether different part of the ship. The bronze gilding and faux-sun lanterns are left far behind. This new realm is a place of plasteel decking and drab, prefab walls, actinic lighting and blaring vox-klaxons. Monitor skulls stare grimly down from cornice niches, and slave legionnaires from Kommitzar on security detail march in sharp order. The slave legionnaires wear dust-gray fatigues and shoulder lasguns that look fresh from the press. Not even they, indentured soldiery of the Adeptus Terra, deign to recognize the registrants existence. There is only one man who does. Praeceptor 3378, Micken Urguile, waits for them at the end of a long, sunken corridor. He watches the last stretch of their shuffling journey standing ramrod straight as a bulkhead. It does not look like he wears his carmine uniform so much as it has been applied to him with fleet adhesive and boot nails. His hair is jet, his eyes pale, and his face looked like it might have been carved from unpolished ouslite. Finally, when the first registrants gets within arm’s reach, Micken moves. He spins sharply around, and marches through an open doorway with parade ground perfection. That is when Stephano notices only one of Micken’s arms was clasped behind his back. The other is gone, the sleeve pinned up neatly. The first registrant follows Micken, and, like grox, so do the rest. The numbers 3378 are etched in a plasteel sign above the door. One man with tribal scars across his face grunts a curse Stephano doesn’t recognize, and turns back the other way. Another, a wiry youth with red tattoos and scaver-glyphs on his temples favors those around him with a sheepish grin. He glances up from his info-slate to the printed numbers again and again with confusion in his eyes. He pauses when his feet reach the threshold, but not for long. A slab-shouldered giant in registrant dress pushes the youth harshly out of the way. “Imbecile,” the man mutters. Where another might have taken offense, the youth with the gang war scars ducks his head obligingly. Other file past him. His face turns red, and he mutters to one passing registrant, “I can’t read.” With a lifted nose, the woman acts as if she didn’t hear his words, and steps right past the youth. Stephano is next in line. He.... And what does Stephano do? KJDavid fucked around with this message at 17:34 on Jan 3, 2014 |
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Jan 3, 2014 16:29
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All of these displays--the Gottshall, the stormtroopers, the lavish vestibule--were meant to awe and intimidate the new potential Interrogators. It appeared to be working. Several of his peers turned away and fell to the rear where they would be collected and taken back to where ever they came from. Stephano felt nothing for them. It was a better thing that they knew they were beyond their limits and bowed out now before their actions could put another acolyte in danger. Or worse, disrupt a mission for the Holy Ordos. All of these distractions did nothing to sway Stephano though. He would not give up on his purpose because of a simple display of power. In fact, it only emboldened him. The Interrogator, resplendent in his cloak and armor, passed down the avenue-wide hallway with haughty arrogance. This was his place: a temple built around grandiose and superfluous minutiae where servants and supplicants followed in tow. All around the registrants were ostentatious displays that were meant to show the glory and power of the Imperium. To Stephano they only displayed the greed and love for praise which the upper echelons of the Empire thrived upon. Gold did not speak to the success or power of the Imperium. The devotion of every man and woman who served the Emperor was the real strength of the Imperium. All around him where the absolute best of humanity. For ever one registrant there were billions of others who did not have the means or ability to serve as more than drudges. Even in the ranks of the Inquisitions there were those who were little better than thugs. Some could not read, others could barely speak Low Gothic, and others still were crippled by lives lived before entry into the Inquisition. To Stephano is only served to show that for all of the Imperium's bluster it was rotting at the core. The next room of the ship was closer to the heart of humanity. Dark, loud, hard, and impersonal. The nobles gawked nervously at the pitted eyes of the skulls leering at them all from the corners. Did they really think that such means of surveillance did not exist in their ivory towers? Nothing about this environment shocked Stephano. He even appreciated it, after a fashion. Here, if he so chose, he could hide or creep without fear of being seen or heard. If he were on a mission this would be a perfect arena to observe his mark from and learn their ticks. He had no time to search for ticks on his praeceptor though. Micken Urguile, a pillar of strength and authority, only gave the registrants the most cursory of glances before spinning on his heel to lead them on into the next room. The registrants followed along dutifully, save for the confused young ganger. Stephano saw how the others pushed past him and disregarded him. He was disrespected for his stature and for his station in life. He was here though, and so his masters must have seen some potential in him. The ganger boy was like a whipped dog: able to take abuse and loyal to a fault. However, perhaps he was deadly when let off of his chain. It could be good to have a pawn in his dangerous game. All he had to do was show a little compassion. Stephano was a former underhive dweller after all and had spent more than enough time dealing with the gangs. He knew the lingo well enough. He adopted his old gruff diction and plastered a sly grin on his face, an act he had practiced many time before, as he passed by the boy and grabbed him around the elbow. "Come on wit' me, Cutter. I read fine enough for the both. Seen't yer scars on back there. Who'd you run with? How much hive did ya claim?"
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Jan 3, 2014 22:03
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Nero Shatters Stephano adopted his old gruff diction and plastered a sly grin on his face, an act he had practiced many times before, as he passed by the boy and grabbed him around the elbow. "Come on wit' me, Cutter. I read fine enough for the both. Seen't yer scars on back there. Who'd you run with? How much hive did ya claim?" pre:Stephano Doval Charm test. Base Fellowship 37. Untrained -20. Subject is friendly and out of his element +30. Stephano has lower hive experience from Common Lore (Underworld) +10. Final Score: 57 Your Roll: 56. No kidding! He pushes his info-slate into Stephano's hands. It reads: Nero Shatters, Acoltye, Probation Group 3378-3. It seems that even without being able to read, the ganger knew the right way to go. It could have been luck or something else. "Me mum called me Nero. The Ink calls me Nero Shatters. Fits well to me mind. If a man's got to have two names 'at is."
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Jan 3, 2014 22:45
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"Rough runna luck, that. Gotta say I'm same same. I myself was a Mercy Killer with Verbaine Rounder out yonderways on Panacea Tarsus." Real names, real places, heretics one and all. Stephano had in fact been on Panacea Tarsus and had a run in with Verbaine's Mercy Killers, but it was as part of the Inquisition. He had infiltrated the organization as a fixer promising to help spread their elicit xeno-laced drugs. It only took a month for him to walk the whole crew right into his master's hands. Verbaine got the black cells. The rest got the bullet. All the loose ends were tied up with nobody to ever dispute his claims of involvement. "My Killers all got penned up too and it were either serve Him on High or take a walk down the tunnels Nightside, reckon? So here I is." He smirked an mimicked Nero, knocking on the bulkhead. "On and on, one to the next." Stephano reviewed the boy's info-slate and hid a suspicious huff. Well how had he made it this far if he couldn't read? Maybe he was a con himself, playing his cards to be underestimated by his peers. This would require further reading. Stephano and the boy walked along with the other registrants, following their praeceptor to his intended destination. "Nero, eh? How'd you get hung with Shatters? You uh right bruiser? The Killers called me Tiptoe, for what it's worth, on account I'm real quiet like. My mum mostly called me shite fer brains," he said with a smirk. "So Nero, you know yer numbers?" Whew, lucky me. I'd like to try Scrutiny if I can to see if Nero is holding anything back or trying to play a con. Also do I know anything about the Haet-Jermat? ilootthecorpse fucked around with this message at 01:43 on Jan 4, 2014 |
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Jan 4, 2014 01:37
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Scrutiny & Lorepre:Stephano Doval Common Lore (Underworld) Base Intelligence 37 Known +0 Underhive Gang -10 Final Score: 27 Your Roll:65 pre:Stephano Doval Scrutiny Base Perception 37 Known +0 Judging if a stranger is lying +0 Final Score: 37 Your Roll:4 "Numbers." Nero shrugs and waggles a hand. "Eh." The ganger looks ready to say more, but a voice like an Arbites shotgun silences him. "Gentlemen!" Praeceptor Urguile booms. "If you're quite done." Stephano and Nero turn. The Praeceptor is not glaring at the two. Not quite. He is standing sharp behind a nalwood desk that looks thick enough to stop a bolt round. Nothing decorates the desk except a carefully arranged stack of data-slates and a second carefully arranged stack of paper. An info-quill and feather pen rest between the stacks. The other registrants are waiting quietly on Navy-issue deck benches. The slab-shouldered giant who shouldered past Nero earlier looks back with disdain in his eyes. "Jumped up dregs," he mutters. One or two of the registrants chuckle. The giant looks to say more, but Micken silences him with a withering stare. "There are seats left, gentlemen," Micken says. "Take them, and we will begin."
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Jan 4, 2014 02:24
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Nero seemed honest. That was rare in an organization like the Inquisitions. After all, it takes a thief. Doval had let himself become too focused on his scrutiny of Nero though and neglected to observe the rest of his surroundings. If Stephano had a flaw it was being over-ambitious. The crack shot voice did not startle, but gave him pause. It was important for an infiltrator like him to keep his composure and if all it took was a loud voice to make him crack then, well, he would never have made it this far. "Come on, Cutter. Right here." Stephano took a seat with enough room beside him for Nero to fit. He settled in with a forced nonchalance, intentionally projecting the air of trying too hard to fit in. He appeared as though the admonishment did not phase him at all, at least for the benefit of the other acolytes. Jumped up dregs, was it? Good. Let them think they were superior. Let them drop their guard. His body language may have been that of a cocksure ganger, but his eyes spoke a different tale. He let his cool, steely gaze meet Urguile's unerringly. He was set in; Stephano gave the man his complete attention, rapt to receive the next phase of instructions.
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Jan 4, 2014 02:48
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Probation Group 3378 With everyone seated, Praeceptor Urguile steped out from behind his desk. He flexed the fingers in his one good hand while slowly scanning the room. "For those of you who cannot read, and that will be remedied." Micken's eyes flickered toward Nero. "I am Praeceptor Micken Urguile, Agent of the Throne of Terra. I have had the honor to serve the God-Emperor in the Helican Sub-sector and now here at the Schola Verus for twenty-five years. When I was in Scarus, I served Inquisitor Berom Cheldress. Here, I serve First Praeceptor Elbert Yohn, but my main task is to make sure you, all of you, survive and thrive. "For the next three months, you will be tested. Your first challenge is the Trial Primus. It will begin soon, but I am forbidden by oath to give you any more details on it. The Trial Secundus is more mundane. It is competence testing - lore, close combat, marksmanship, and other skills. Trial Tertius will be a series of interviews with seasoned field operatives, and Trial Finalitas is largely perfunctory." Urguile swept his gaze across the registrants. "Any questions?" A hand at the front shot up. Urguile nods at the woman. "Praeceptor," she begins. He voice was cloying, like too sweet perfume. Stephano makes a quick note to himself. She was the one who swept past Nero with an upturned nose. "I am Hether Hallow. My father was -." "No one cares," Urguile said, cutting her off. "Do you have a question or not?" "Yes," Hether replied. Her voice was sweet, but there was a new, sharp edge to her eyes. However, she filed it away as quickly as it appeared. Stephano doubted many of the others noticed it. He had, but then again he had been looking for something like that. "My things were...collected by some servant when I boarded. Are they waiting for me in my chambers?" Urguile raises an eyebrow. "Your chambers?" "Where I'll be staying." Hether tilted her chin up. "Obviously, I don't expect accommodations suitable to the Lucid Palace. This is supposed to be 'rough' after all." "I see." Urguile's lips turned up, but it was one of the farthest things from a smile Stephano had ever seen. "Your possessions are being held in a hull-cask in the belly of the Sanctuary. You have the clothes on your back, and anything else we choose to give you. As to your 'chambers', living quarters are not provided to registrants. This is a vast ship. Where you sleep, eat, and poo poo are for you to figure out." Hether nearly snarled. "I thought our Praeceptor was supposed to be our only ally." "Watch your tongue or I'll rip it out." Urguile loomed over her, fingers twitching. "There are plenty of vox-boxes aboard this ship, and a registrant does not need to speak with organics." Hether didn't quite shrink in her seat, but she did shut her mouth. "Any further questions?"
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Jan 4, 2014 18:44
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Stephano Doval, AKA Tiptoe Stephano kept rapt attention to Praeceptor Urguile, not only following his message but making note of his body language. Anything could be useful if put towards the correct ends. He noticed that Urguile was flexing his fingers and mirrored him in turn. It was a strategy that he sometimes used before adopting a new persona. If he could put himself more into the mindset of his praeceptor perhaps he might be able to gleen some small revelation about what lie ahead in the trials and how to impress his superior. "I have had the honor to serve the God-Emperor in the Helican Sub-sector and now here at the Schola Verus for twenty-five years." I have given more to the Empire of Man than you could ever aspire to. "When I was in Scarus, I served Inquisitor Berom Cheldress. Here, I serve First Praeceptor Elbert Yohn, but my main task is to make sure you, all of you, survive and thrive." My loyalties are to those appointed above me, and all of you are nothing more than the next mission. Many of you will fail, for the better of the Imperium. As Urguile explained the pace of his life for the next three month Stephano began to postulate how each of the phases would go. Primeris would no doubt be a trial by fire of some sort and he expected it to begin quite suddenly. At any moment even. He would have to be on his guard and make motions to weather the worst of the storm which was no doubt the chaos at the very beginning. Secundus would most likely take up a majority of his time here, taking his raw abilities and tuning them to the liking of his masters. Tertius would be brief. It may just be a bit of a parade for the Inquisitors in the sector to select their new agents under the guise of giving the registrants time to learn from veterans in the field. Stephano would have gone on but the woman's voice, which could be described no more accurately or concisely than as annoying, interrupted his train of though. "I am Hether Hallow. My father was -." "No one cares," Urguile said, cutting her off. That gave Stephano and Nero beside him a reason to smile. Pampered, peacocking nobles thinking that their families and affluence meant anything beyond whatever spire they left to come here. He noticed her scornful glare over being interrupted and made a note of it. Mamsel Hallow clearly thought she was of a station above even the praeceptor. She did not expect to be spoken down to or have to endure hardships here. That was good. Stephano could use that to either break her concentration or bait her to his cause. "Your possessions are being held in a hull-cask in the belly of the Sanctuary. You have the clothes on your back, and anything else we choose to give you. As to your 'chambers', living quarters are not provided to registrants. This is a vast ship. Where you sleep, eat, and poo poo are for you to figure out." Finally, the rules of the game were laid out. So this would be part of their Primarus task: to survive without assistance. Stephano immediately pulled up the map of the Sanctuary and located their relative position. He began looking for exits or roosts that others may not think about : vent ducts, engineseer's compartments, service tunnels, sewage lines, and the like. His first move when the trial began, and he could feel the moment looming above them all now, would be to grab anything helpful within arm's reach, whether it belonged to him or not, and make for an exit route. Hopefully Nero would be clever enough to do the same and follow him. "Be ready, Shatters. Thisn's about the begin. Start looking for dosh ta knick on the way out..." ilootthecorpse fucked around with this message at 22:08 on Jan 4, 2014 |
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Jan 4, 2014 21:58
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"No questions, then. Good," Urguile said. "There is a canteen down the hall to the right. Eat. The Trial Primus will begin soon." Urguile gave the registrants one last nod, then slipped out a side door. The group lingered a moment before, singly or in pairs, they began to leave. And what does Stephano doing?
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Jan 5, 2014 22:42
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Stephano Doval, AKA Tiptoe It seemed that everybody was running on nervous energy, ready for the trials to begin. Many of them would not eat because of it, but Stephano knew that was a folly. He nudged Nero in the side and got to his feet, nodding towards the door. "Best we grub up good 'fore the trial gets on. Can't be sayin' when we'll have our next bite." He makes his way out of the briefing hall, wary for any other registrants that may approach them. At the same time he looked for other potential assets--stragglers like Nero. The bull of a man who had scoffed at them would be of no use, but Mansel Hallow may. Perhaps not yet though. She needed to be shocked first and gain a full grasp of how little her station mattered here. Then she would be more pliable. For now though Stephano only planned to eat as much as he was allowed and keep a weather eye for any other registants he might be able to use to get through the trial Primus. I'm just going to eat, see if I see any other approachable stragglers, and if not wait for the trial to begin. If there are any unlikely tools laying about (cutlery, meal trays, med kits on the walls, etc.) then I'll see about "acquiring" them.
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Jan 5, 2014 22:58
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Canteen D18-G The canteen Urguile spoke of is about what Stephano expected - two menials spooning warm, mushy starches onto beaten metal trays. There are wooden tables and benches to sit on, but they fill up quickly. Most of the registrants simply stand where there is space, shoveling down the vaguely food-like substances with little fanfare. On one wall a faded motivational poster shows an exultant commissar shouting, "With me! For the Emperor!" Stephano and Nero stand to one side, eating quietly. Nero keeps an eye on the door while Stephano watches the registrants. He does so out of the corner of one eye, and plays at small talk with Nero. The ganger is smart enough to play back. He seems to know the game. "Ain't nothin' yet to see, Cutter," Nero mumbles. He waggles one hand. "'Cept for them 'Stratum slave-killers. Wouldn't want to try grabbin' up their gilt." Nero chuckles. "I value me guts and pieces." (Translation: The only people he's seen with anything worth stealing are the Kommitzar indentured soldiery, and they're very scary people. From where he stands, Stephano can see some of the other registrants know the game too. Cliques and alliances are already forming, but everyone is not yet aligned. Mamsel Hallow and the slab-faced giant sit alone, as does a hauntingly beautiful woman with straw-colored hair and a small boy who can be no more than 14 years old. If Stephano wants to try to make additional allies and friends, now is the time.
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Jan 7, 2014 02:50
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Stephano Dovel, AKA Tiptoe The nutrient gruel isn't at all appealing, but it is at least filling and warm. It is far from the worst thing that Stephano had ever eaten even under better circumstances. When Nero relays his report about there being nothing to grab Stephano makes a noncommittal grunt and shovels the last of his meal slurry past his lips. "'S just as well. No second guessin' the Ink has all their toys and baubles under chain and locker. Gotten by fer by through worse with less'n the skins on my back and a bite in my guts." The infiltrator places his tray down with the rest of the dirty dishes and wipes his hands off against each other. The choices for other allies were slim now that the cliques had started to form, but it would be a smart move to try and add one more before the Primus began. Slab face was an option, but there was already a sour air between them. He would be too difficult to work with no matter how good he looked in a fight. The Mamsel Hallow, would be much the same--too haughty to work with--at least for now. When the Primus began and she realized that her name and status meant nothing here she would get desperate. Then she would be more pliable. That left the stunning beauty and the boy. Either could be an asset or a liability. The woman was hard to guess at. She could be anything from a charismatic manipulator to an agile and deadly assassin. The boy, so young and slight, was most likely either an adept of some skill or a young psyker. Stephano had hopes for the latter. He nudged Nero in the side and gave a nod of his head. "Roll with my con, bruv. I got a thinking about that tenderfoot there by his self." Stephano stepped off towards the child and slipped into a new persona as easily as changing into a well-worn shirt. He approached in front of the boy, keeping a comfortable distance, and offered him a kindly smile. His plain face offered a surprising amount of expression and as his steely eyes crinkled and his thin lips turned up he adopted an almost fatherly countenance. "Hey there, Scrapper. I'm Thoman and this is Nero. What's your name? Been under the Inquisition long?"
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Jan 8, 2014 01:13
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Registrant 3378-19, Andre Mansyn The boy looked up at 'Thoman.' Stephano expected there to be an air of something like innocence in the eyes of one so young, but there wasn't. There wasn't anything really. The boy had the same thousand-yard stare a Guard veteran might. "I'm Andre," the boy said. He scooped starch into his mouth with a mechanical motion. "Master Rykehuss sent me here." Andre looks around quizzically, as if seeing the canteen and everyone in it for the first time. "He lets me kill the xenos, sometimes, after the questions are done. There are always more, though." He tilts his head to one side. "Did you know the galaxy is full of aliens?"
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Jan 8, 2014 15:20
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Stephano Doval, AKA Thoman Well what a surprise. Such a young and impressionable mind already being numbed against the horrors or violence and madness. Well, perhaps not to madness. The boy seemed quite unhinged, but that was far from a problem. That thousand yard stare and matter of factual nonchalance when breeching the subject of death made Stephano think that this Andre could make a perfect shock trooper. His size and age would make it unexpected and he had the look of a killer without a sense of self preservation. He also may not know when to stop killing. He could be as much of a liability as an asset, but Stephano's little motley needed a cold killer and the boy could just work. "That's good, Andre," he crooned soothingly, wearing his same easy smile. "Nero and I are here to kill the Xenos as well. Would you like to help us? I'm quite good at asking questions, and if we find any Xenos you can kill them when I've finished."
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Jan 8, 2014 21:10
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Tempting Andre After Stephano finished, Andre was silent for a long moment. Finally, he blinked, as if waking up from a nap, looked at Stephano and said,"I'm sorry, Thoman, but you're wrong. There are no xenos on this ship." He shrugged, and used his spoon to pick away at the frost newly coating the tabletop. pre:Stephano Doval Charm Test Base Fellowship 37. Untrained -20. Stephano is of a favored social class (Inquisition) +10. Andre is highly interested in killing xenos +20. Final Score: 47 Your Roll: 82. 3 degrees of failure. Also, the way I handle failure is a little different, so I'll explain briefly. You failed a Charm test to recruit Andre (Charm most seemed to fit the dialogue). One, you can't use Charm again on him for the purposes of recruitment, and there will be a slight penalty (-5) to further recruitment tests since he knows you were wrong about the xenos. You can use other skills/means to try to recruit him if you wish, or you can cut your losses and move on.
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Jan 9, 2014 16:03
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Stephano Doval, AKA Thoman Stephano felt the air go chilly around him and watched as frost collected on the spoon in the boy's hand. So he was a psyker then. There was no way to tell exactly how powerful, but any witch was better than none. The boy rebuffed his attempt to entice him, but he wouldn't give up just yet. He just had to take a different approach. "You think that the Inquisition would make it so easy for somebody with a gift like yours to glimpse what could be in our trials?" He kept his same easy smile and leaned in to whisper conspiratorially. "I know you've seen the Black Ships and the special rooms they have to block your abilities. When I came onto this ship I saw them unloading cargo. They had some boxes, big boxes, that were made just the same. There could be anything in those. Beasts or Xenos, who knows? We may get to kill a few yet." A lie, but hopefully a good enough one to get the boy's attention back. "You should stick with me and Nero, Andre. Xenos or no, it's good to have somebody watching your back."
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Jan 9, 2014 21:52
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To Deceive or Not?pre:Stephano Doval Deceive Test Base Fellowship 37. Trained Deceive +10 Andre wants the lie to be true +10 Charm Failure -5 Final Score: 52 Your Roll:84 Obviously a failure, however, if you spend a Fate point the result would be 30 KJDavid fucked around with this message at 15:53 on Jan 11, 2014 |
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Jan 10, 2014 15:01
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Stephano Doval, AKA Tiptoe Andre wasn't with them anymore. The boy was busy contemplating the inside of his spoon and had seemingly forgotten that Nero and he were there at all. Well, you can't win them all. Stephano stood up and shrugged at Nero before nodding across his shoulder. "Well, bad dice there. Ain't worth for fret though. That witcher is too far a'void leastwise. This ain't the place to leash 'im in. On to the next." Slab face was still off the table and Stephano still planned to wait and see if he ran into Mamzel Hallow later when she was desperate. That just left one more possible alley in the canteen: the beautiful woman. He considered his personas briefly as he approached, trying to decide on the appropriate one. Flattery likely wouldn't work here, nor would the fatherly kindness of Thoman. No, this one he would do all business. Just one acolyte to the next striking a deal. Stephano placed himself across from the woman and squared himself to face her. "Excuse me, hello," he began in a tight, professional diction and carrying himself with the air of a magistrate. When he had her attention he simply nodded with barely a hint of a smile. More a smirk really. "My name is Edwynn Squire. Do you mind if I sit?"
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Jan 10, 2014 16:39
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Iron Daughterpre:June Malversdottir Scrutiny Test Base Perception 50 Trained +10 Observed Stephano interacting with Nero & Andre +10 Final Score: 70 Her Roll: 36 She pushed her empty metal tray away from her, then nodded slightly toward Nero. Voice pitched low, she said, "I know his type, but you're something else. What are you exactly, Edwynn." You assume there's no way she could actually know who you really are; the galaxy is a big place after all. That being said, she clearly knows you were being deceptive.
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Jan 11, 2014 16:15
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Stephano Doval as played by Himself Well this stunning beauty had quite an eye. No wonder really for a Judge to be able to spot a con. Stephano had been able to fool people from one side of the sector to the next, but he knew there were some people it was better to just not try with. A Judge would fit that profile. Stephano sat and gave the woman an emphatic smile while accepting her hand. "Very good, Mamsel Malversdottir. You have an exceptionally discerning eye. Although, my friend Nero and I have more in common than you give me credit for. Ain't that right, Cutter?" he says with a smirk back towards the ganger to his side, slipping right back into his old Underhive dialect. "Back in the Under--first in Hive Cerberus then in the Panacea Tarsus--I were a Mercy Killer for Verbaine Rounder." Still a lie, but it was better that he keep up his stories in good continuity so Nero didn't believe he had been deceived. "Then I were nicked up by the Ink and one to the next, here I am." He spreads his hands, palms facing up and smiles. "As for what I am, Mamsel," he continued in his perfectly flat inflection, his normal voice, "I'm anything. Tiptoe, Thoman Went, Edwynn Squire: I have an abundance of names. But, under all that, what I am is Stephano Doval: a humble servant of the Inquisition." ilootthecorpse fucked around with this message at 10:23 on Jan 12, 2014 |
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Jan 12, 2014 00:47
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Truth and Reconciliation "A humble servant is the best title one can hope for," June said. She leaned back in her chair, arms crossed. "So, what was the plan? Assembling allies? If that was it, it's not a bad one. I don't know enough about the Schola Verus, but I know death is a very real option. You're good at what you do, at least, so if you need a friendly hand I can be counted on."
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Jan 13, 2014 14:00
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Stephano Doval Stephano nodded and pulled out a seat for Nero beside him. "Set on down a spell, bruv. Let's all be friendly like." Most times when the infiltrator was operating he didn't even notice when his dictions and personas changed to fit the mood. Now though he had to make a more conscious effort. "For Mamsel Malverdottir here I'm going to try to keep easy on the Under slang, right? Would want to have her all wrapped up over our nattering. You're correct though," he continued, back to his plain, flat voice. "An Inquisitor alone could never be prepared for every threat. Acolytes are the same, if even more dependant on their comrades. It's important to have dependable hands at the ready. If they're friendly too that's a nice bonus. We're certainly not the only ones making alliances though." Plenty of cliques had formed up all around them, but most were less eclectic. The Guardsmen tended to stick together, as did the Nobles, and the bookish types. Only the outcasts like Stephano and his little motley formed into diverse teams. He suspected that they would do the best. Teamwork would be important but Stephano never lost sight of his goal: graduate, no, survive the Schola Verus. Nero and June would not be wasted unnecessarily, but their temporary allegiance was only a tool used to reach his desired end state. Nothing more. He favored both Nero and June with a carefully measured smile, trying to appear pleased but not over eager. "There won't be much time now until the Primus begins. Let's keep our heads low, watch each others backs, and make it out alive." I'm satisfied with these two allies for now. Any more at the beginning may be too much when we're going to have to scavenge for food, shelter, and equipment. So unless there is anything else going on in the canteen I'm ready to move along.
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Jan 13, 2014 20:20
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The Trial Primus June looked ready to say something else when Nero tapped lightly on the tabletop with two fingers. His eyes flickered briefly toward the mess line, and Stephano followed. The two menials had disappeared, and so had the Kommitzari standing near the door. Nero muttered, "Git ready, bruv." The last word barely slipped his lips before the canteen went dark. If it had happened on any other ship, the room would have gone wild with panic. As it was, no one moved. Crimson emergency lights flared into life a moment later, and vox static crackled from some hidden amplifier. "TRUST IN HIM" a voice blared. Then the gas billowed in, and things went well and truly dark. *** Stephano came to his senses with a splitting headache and a mouth that felt like it was stuffed full of used trench socks. He opened his eyes only to stare into a faceless helm attached to a broad shouldered woman in standard-issue carapace. The woman grunted, and moved away. Stephano sat up. Aside from the armored woman, he was alone on a stone platform somewhere in the Sanctuary of Truth. At least, he could only assume he was still aboard the ship. A sealed plasteel hatch dominated one end of the platform and a narrow stone bridge extended out from the other. The sides were nothing but thin air. Stephano couldn't see how far the drop was, since fog hugged the sides of the platform like water. The ceiling too was obscured by a cloudy mist roiling like something alive. Far away, in the mist, Stephano could have sworn he heard someone scream. "Acolyte 3378-7, Stephano Doval," the armored woman said. She took a yellowed scroll from her belt, and pulled it apart. "Swearing allegiance and sanctity, you have come before the Most Holy Orders of the Inquisition. Are you ready to reaffirm your oaths to Emperor, Imperium, and Humanity? To risk your health, your life, and your soul for Truth and Purity? To strike out against the encroaching darkness, and fight with your last breath against the Enemies Who Surround?" From the hard steel in the woman's voice there was only one acceptable answer. "If so, arise, and you shall begin the Trial Primus. If not, remain on your back, and you will awaken elsewhere to serve in another capacity."
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Jan 13, 2014 21:43
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Stephano Doval In the last moment before everything truly went dark Stephano grasped for the tray in front of June. Anything he could use, anything that might aid him in even the smallest of ways, but it was not meant to be so... To be aware was to be in pain. Even the smallest light was enough go make Stephano's head feel as though it were about to split open. The pain of the body was nothing next to that of failure though. With deep breaths and a hard swallow, sucking down the sickly taste on his tongue, he brought the world back into focus and forced the discomfort he felt to the back of his mind. The armored woman's words here muffled and distant but managed to breach the fog in Stephano's mind and find purchase. He rolled over, first up to his knees and took a moment to collect himself. "There is only the Emperor, and he is our Shield and Protector," he replied thickly. "To Him I pledge my life." When a bit more strength returned to his limbs he pushed himself up to his feet to affirm his conviction. He cast his eyes about the room and found it empty save for himself and the woman. Unfortunate, but not unexpected. Presently he hoped that he encountered Nero or June before any of the other aspirants during the trial. That was yet to be seen though. For now he looked at the armored woman, fixing her in his steely gaze, and waited for instruction.
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Jan 14, 2014 00:27
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The Tangle The armored woman pointed behind Stephano toward the stone bridge extending into darkness. "That is the path into the Tangle. It is an ancient maze. There are traps and tests. There are also condemned prisoners from the Ulanti carve-mines. The Trial Primus will end when the Tangle does." The woman turned away, then hammered her fist into an access node. The plasteel hatch dropped into the deck, and the woman stepped through. She made the Aquila toward Stephano, the hatch rose back into place, and he was alone. A warm wind touched the back of his neck, and carried with it the distant clash of steel.
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Jan 14, 2014 15:18
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Stephano Doval, Labyrinth Rat There was nothing more to do now than begin. He had no weapons or supplies, but he did have two allies somewhere out in The Tangle. He hoped to find them. Without apprehension he approached the entrance and stepped into the ancient halls. To his comfort the confined spaces reminded him much of the hives he grew up in. To that effect he knew a bit about getting to safety when lost: just pick a wall and follow it until you found an exit. Stephano placed his fingers gently along the left wall and began to walk, keeping his profile low and his pace slow as to avoid danger. I'm going to follow the left wall and see where it takes me. I'd like to maintain as much stealth as possible and maintain a pace that won't degrade my awareness. If I fail any awareness tests keen intuition gives me a reroll at a -10 and I believe I get a +20 to navigation while in an enclosed space for being hiveborn, if that matters at all.
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Jan 14, 2014 21:38
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The Cornered Bear Careful and silent as a shadow, Stephano slipped amidst the metal and mess of the Tangle; it definitely deserved the name. The path began straight enough, but that changed quickly. There were turns and loops and buckles. Sometimes new paths broke off to right or left and up or down. Sometimes the only roof was darkness and, in other places, Stephano literally crawled to continue moving forward. Once, he walked across a beam no wider than a prayer book, and he could have sworn there were stars glittering in the darkness far below his feet. It did not matter. All that mattered was finding a way out, and living to talk about it. The Tangle was not a quiet place. It was full of machine sounds, and the whisper or roar of wind, depending on where he stood. Fundament engines churned noisily behind bulkheads, the lumen strips hummed, and every so often Stephano could detect the nearly audible whine of worn out grav plating in the deck beneath his feet. He was three hours in when he heard the first organic noise. It was a grunt followed by a loud pop, like a pressurized sack giving way. Stephano froze. An echo of voices trickled down the corridor toward him. He couldn't tell what they were saying, but he recognized the harsh cadence and clipped words common to hivescum slang. Then laughter, mocking and derisive. Choosing his steps carefully, Stephano crept done the corridor. He kept one hand on the flakboard surface of the wall, and the other as a balance while he moved low. He stopped before the corridor gave way into a larger chamber, and crawled on hands and feet to the edge. The corridor Stephano hid in was dimly lit, and the chamber beyond was not much better. Flickering lumen globes glared dully in the high ceiling. They cast deep shadows across the dozen hard angled pillars supporting the roof. Stephano could not imagine what the chamber might have been used for. It was narrow, deep, and there was not a shred of writing on floor or walls. The ceiling stood easily 100 meters above him, and, in front, the floor descended in terraces until it stopped in a shallow bowl full of rust-colored water. Old water was not the only thing in the bowl. The slab-faced giant who had scoffed at Nero and Stephano was up to his knees in the muck, and his uniform was wet with more than just water. There were large tears in the fabric, and blood streamed down his forehead from a gash as long as Stephano's index finger. For all that, the giant was still on his feet with a club of metal in his hands. It too had blood on it, but that blood belonged to another man, the one sprawled at the giant's feet with the caved in head. Unfortunately for the giant, the dead man was not alone. Three other men moved warily around the giant like slip cats stalking a feral grox. They carried scrap sharpened into crude knives, and wore lime green coveralls of a design Stephano had seen in a dozen prisons. They had to be condemned Ulanti. Judging by how they licked their lips and sucked their teeth, were probably cannibals as well. Tough as he was, the giant probably wouldn't be able to kill three of them. KJDavid fucked around with this message at 15:46 on Jan 15, 2014 |
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Jan 15, 2014 15:43
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Stephano Doval, Unlikely Angel The winding path of The Tangle was somewhat comforting to Stephano. It was dim, noisy, and confined: the perfect combination of elements to allow him to move unseen and not likely be caught unaware. The three hours creeping along catwalks and under layers of pipes seemed like nothing at all, but when the sound of another living thing came near time seemed to freeze. Now there was danger and Stephano would need to proceed carefully. At the edge of the platform on the top terrace he watched the spectacle unfold. Slab-face was going to die. Stephano knew ganger tactics well enough and these Ulanti would just circle and cut, circle and cut, never exposing themselves to undo danger until Slab-face either bled out or got careless and gave one the kill shot. The brute wouldn't last long without help...but Stephano had to weigh that option. Acolytes died in the Primus. It was an inevitability. The big man's death would only be different from any other because he would die to the Ulanti, and despite his overwhelming sense of self-preservation that grated at Stephano. The titanic brute had been chosen by his master to come here and perhaps become an Interrogator one day; a very coveted position. The Ulanti on the other hand were condemned men, enemies to the Imperium one and all. It would be untoward of an agent of the Inquisition to allow the enemy to win, no matter the situation. It may not have been the wise choice but Stephano decided he would assist Slab-face. If things went well he may gain a temporary ally and much needed supplies from the dead Ulanti. Stephano quickly slipped off his belt and then fed the end back through the buckle until it was roughly a foot in diameter. An easy size to fit over a man's head. A garrote, simple but effective. The belt was wide, perhaps too wide to actually strangle a man, but if he could surprise and disable one then Slab-face may be able to kill another in the confusion. Once the tables turned against the Ulanti he expected they would try to flee. From there he kept close to the ground, moving in the shadows of broken lights and using the noise of the commotion to mask his approach. If he could get close enough to get his belt around one of the ganger's necks then he would twist and crouch, as he had done a dozen times before, to bring his entire body weight sintching down around the target's throat, pulling him backward off balance, and making his own profile small and harder to retaliate against. I'd like to try and stealth up behind the easiest target, using a fate point if necessary, and then make an all out attack to try and get my garrote around him. ilootthecorpse fucked around with this message at 22:44 on Jan 15, 2014 |
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Jan 15, 2014 20:51
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Tangled Violencepre:Stephano Doval Stealth Test Base Agility 39 Known +0 Distracted Foe +10 Noisy & Dark +10 Completely Unsuspecting +10 Final Score: 69 Your Roll:23 - 4 degrees of success - No fate necessary! After one ferocious windmill from Slab-face, one Ulanti danced backward, quick as a cat, and into Stephano's reach. Before the ganger knew what was happening there was a belt around his neck, and the implacability of physics jerked him off his feet. Stephano put his full weight into the move, and the ganger didn't even have time to suffocate; his neck snapped and his body jerked wildly in a death spasm as it bounced off the deck. The killing did not go unnoticed. With a foot of sharpened scrap in one hand and fever in his eyes, another Ulanti sprang at Stephano. Dropping the belt, Stephano dodged backward, but the ganger kept pace. The Ulanti struck with a fool's speed, and Stephano had been in more knife fights than he'd ever cared to tally. Their move and counter-move might have gone on for a while. Might have. Slab-face charged out of the shallow bowl toward Stephano's attacker. Despite his size, he was furiously fast, and a second later had put the whole of his massive frame behind one blow. The heavy pipe smashed into the Ulanti's head with a wet crunch and enough force to spew blood, brains, and skull out the other side. The last Ulanti was a wiry man with a lipless mouth and pale skin. Whether he was simply too stupid to realize his chances or chose to die heroically with his comrades, Stephano would never know. The Ulanti surged forward and buried his crude shank between Slab-face's ribs. Ignoring spike of metal sticking out of his side, Slab-face spun an elbow around to shatter the ganger's teeth. The Ulanti crumpled, but Slab-face was not done. He kicked the man in the ribs, and, by the sound of it, a half dozen splintered. Then, Slab-face grabbed the Ulanti by the back of the neck, and dragged him toward the bowl at the center of the room. The Ulanti struggled like a mad thing, but Slab-face's grip did not slip. He forced the man's head under the dirty water. There wasn't even enough to cover him completely. Eventually, the struggling stopped. When it was done, Slab-face turned and nodded once at Stephano. "My thanks," he said. He wiped sweat off his face with a meaty forearm. "I might have done for them alone." Grunting, he yanked the shiv out of his side. "Or maybe not. They were clever." He jerked a head toward the shadows from which Stephano emerged. "They'd been waiting for me up in the dark." He tossed the shiv aside, trudged out of the water, and extended a hand. "Drako Madread. You?"
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Jan 16, 2014 19:20
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Stephano Doval, Diplomat CRUNCH! Stephano always did like when a plan worked out better than expected. He had expected more of a mad dash to gain the upperhand, but when he felt the ganger's neck snap he couldn't help but smile. Two and two, the tables were even now. No, in fact the favor was quite firmly in his arena now. Two starved and desperate Ulanti had little hope against trained acolytes and from the furious attacks that came next it seemed that they knew it. Stephano had never been a gifted fighter. He was nimble and agile enough to hold his own in a fight and all acolytes were drilled in at least rudimentary combative skills but it was no his forte to say the least. The foot of jagged steel was able to score a superficial scape along his chest, but that was all the time the Ulanti had left before Slab-face regained his bearings. Once that happened the rest was over quickly. A heavy blow from the pipe, a savage kick to the ribs, and some flailing signaled the end of the melee. Stephano took a moment to make sure he hadn't taken an injury unknowingly and retrieve his belt before turning to the giant he had saved. "You're right. You may have killed them all," he echoed and began to search about to pick up the gangers' shivs. "Then again, you may not have. I wasn't going to wait to find out. You're a servant of The Emperor. You've a greater purpose than to die to condemned filth." He tucked the foot-long shank into his belt at the hip and then slipped a smaller one down into his boot. You could never have too many knives. Stephano took Drako's paw of a hand and gave it a firm shake. "Stephano Doval. We should check these bodies for anything useful and then move along. There will be more Ulanti about. I'll go on a bit ahead so they don't get the jump on us. Just come running if you hear me shout." You have added Drako Madread to your party! I'd like to grab up all of the weapons from the Ulanti and check them for anything else worth taking. I'm certainly taking any boot laces and belts they have. Then I'm ready to move on. I'd like to try and stay as far ahead of Drako as possible while still keeping visual contact so I can be stealthy and scout. Also, do I still have my info-slate?
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Jan 16, 2014 21:28
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While Stephano searches, Drako crudely patches his wounds with strips cut from Ulanti coveralls. "Indeed," Drako says. "I owe you one. Shout, and I'll be along." He grins. On his face the expression looks like a grox trying to ape human emotions. "Don't shout too loud. We aren't the only ones in this hole. And be careful. My fath-...my liege-lord told me there are worse things than men in the Tangle." You have the info-slate, and their shivs. Their clothes are not much to worry over - crude jumpsuits made of some weak polymer with littler more than glorified socks to cover their feet. Their belts are weak, but they might be useful. It will be relatively easy to keep ahead of Drako; he's not critically wounded, but he's not moving fast by any means. pre:XP Rewards +100 xp - Events preceeding the Trial Primus +70 xp - Unlikely Angel Total XP: +170 Comments/criticisms so far? How's the pacing? Is it entertaining? Do you like the format, etc?
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Jan 16, 2014 23:47
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Stephano Doval, Navigator Stephano did his best to keep his expression neutral--something he was quite used to--when Drako let slip that his father was somehow involved with his being here. Was the titan's father an Inquisitor? A praeceptor perhaps? Maybe he was just an administratum clerk who ministered to the Black Ships and knew more about the Primus than he should have. Either way the knowledge that Drako may have only made it this far on the coat tails of somebody else irked at him. He had no respect for those who did not have the drive to make their own way. At least Drako was here though, giving himself to the Emperor. Stephano resolved to not pass judgement yet. Slab-face may have had help getting here, but that wasn't to say he didn't deserve it...yet. "Come on, let's get out of the open. Wouldn't want one of those worse things to find us." Stephano secured the Ulanti's belts around his own waist and began to climb back up the terrace until he was safely hidden in a dark nook where he could take out his info-slate and refer to the map within it, trying to determine where the nearest exit could be. I'd like to check my map to try and find some indication of an exit. If there aren't any immediately visible then I'll continue that way I have been following the left wall and seeing where it takes me.
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Jan 17, 2014 22:03
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With Stephano leading and Drako following, the two registrants moved deeper into the Tangle, searching for a way out. Using what little information the info-slate map provided, Stephano tried to angle in the direction of an exit. Over the next few hours, the lights grew dimmer, the passages narrower, and the options more limited until sore muscles and tired eyes demanded rest. It did not take long for Stephano to find a reasonably dark, dead-end hallway. The metal deck was freezing cold and the poorly recycled air smelled like the body odor of a diseased beggar, but it was quiet. Stephano took the first watch, and Drako promptly fell asleep. On Drako's watch, Stephano's eyes flickered open after what could not have been more than an hour. Drako sat quiet as a mouse with his eyes trained on the entrance to their bolt hole, but Stephano didn't look at him long. For a moment, Stephano wondered if it might be a trick of the lights playing upon his exhaustion. He blinked a few times and sat up to make sure he wasn't hallucinating. He wasn't. Laying on the cold deck plate, Stephano could just make out a faint blue light flickering once a minute from behind a wall panel. The wall panel itself looked like it should have closed seamlessly to invisibly cover whatever lay on the other side. It was oh-so-slightly warped, and Stephano recognized that particular shade of azure. For whatever reason, it was a popular shade to color security system indicator lights.
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Jan 19, 2014 15:09
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Stephano Doval, Technician Doval's awareness had always been honed to a fine edge and it was imperative growing up in the Underhive to be a light sleeper. He was surprised he was able to get any sleep at all when he noticed the little blue flash. Well, what did he have here? A security interface perhaps, or maybe even an access port to the ship's interior? It could be anything, and right now anything could be useful. Stephano quietly sat up and began to explore the wall with his fingertips, trying to locate some catch or button. The Tangle was full of traps as well though and this could just be bate. Perhaps if he got the panel open it would be full of explosives or deadly gas. He tried to keep the majority of his body out of the direct line of the front of the panel while he continued to work. Alright so would Security or Tech-use be able to help me get this thing open? Also, if I am able to get it open I don't want to stand directly in front of it when I do. Just in case. Lastly, if we can't do it the subtle way then maybe Drako and I can pry it open with his metal bar and my long shiv.
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Jan 19, 2014 19:14
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pre:Stephano Doval Security Test Base Intelligence: 37 Known +0 Damaged System +10 Crude Design +10 Final Score: 57 Your Roll: 37 - 2 degrees of success. It was the control panel for a pict and vox security system. Whether it was hidden to allow praeceptors clandestine observation of registrants or it had merely been forgotten, there was no way to know. What did matter was that it seemed functional. It might allow Stephano to find a way out of the Tangle or pinpoint the location of others within the maze. Who knew how far its systems reached, but, at this point, anything was better than nothing. Basically, it's a way to eavesdrop on security feeds from around the Tangle. You don't know how extensive it is or why it's hidden in this hole. Out of character, I'll tell you that it was a part of the ship long before the Tangle was created, and the praceptors don't know it exists.
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Jan 20, 2014 15:25
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Strphano Doval, The All-seeing Eye Well what a treasure this was. Doval smiled and punched experimentally at the keys. He couldn't make out what exactly they were for, but the configuration seemed familiar enough. With some trial and error perhaps he could get the cameras to work in his favor. He was still tired, miserably so, but these were uncertain times in The Tangle. He would likely have time to sleep later, but if Drako and he were chased away from this little bolt hole he would not get a second chance to use another security terminal. Stephano yawned and set to work, coaxing the long-sedentary machine spirit back into wakefulness to extract what he could. I would like to use Tech-use, using a fate point if necessary, to get a better idea of what is around us and if there is an exit that we can locate. If there is something of interest, or multiple things, I would like to make knot maps. Basically tear out a lng strip of fabric and make knots in it to represent each junction with different kinds of knots to indicate left, right, up, down, or straight ahead. Lastly, if there is time, I'd like to try and get at least another two hours of sleep.
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Jan 21, 2014 21:11
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pre:Stephano Doval Tech-Use Base Intelligence 37 Known +0 Familiar Template +10 Poorly Maintained -10 Final Score: Your Roll: 29 Working step-by-step through the functional feeds and using fabric taken from dead men, Stephano fashioned a crude map of at least part of the Tangle. He knew it would not lead to a direct escape, but it would, hopefully, guide the two of them out of the heart of the maze and toward a true exit.
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Jan 22, 2014 16:48
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| # ? Apr 25, 2024 09:38 |
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Stephano Doval, Tangle Guide The knot maps would hopefully get Drako and himself out of the Tangle's heart, but he didn't trust it would get them much farther. At least once they were in more open ground it would be easier to find a path. It would also be easier to spot them. He needed to have his wits on them, but didn't mean to waste time. He'd taken up some of his sleeping time finding their next move but resolved to sleep for what was left of it. Doval closed up the security panel and curled up for what little time he had left before they were due to move. Stephano's eyes cracked open, still gritty but less tired. He rolled over, spit to get the stale taste out of his mouth, and gathered up his maps. A single nudge was all the indication he gave to Drako that it was time to move on. Keeping quiet would be essential to getting out intact. Stephano took up the rope which he thought showed the most promise and started to navigate towards what he had seen on the monitor. Alright, moving along. Time to take whatever path leads out of the center of the maze most quickly. I'm not trained in Navigation, but I believe I get the +20 for being a Hiver, plus anything I gain from my maps.
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Jan 22, 2014 21:12
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