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Mercantalism Inland Mechanicus Shrine Port Remonstrance https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tJe8XiI18Jc The cramped Omnissian shrine is dank, dark, and mildewy. It reminds Aperta of some of the less salubrious inter-deck spaces on his home vessel, the IUMENTUM, but it is precisely this similarity that denotes it as an appropriate home for the servants of the Machine-God. It may be small, but on a planet where salt-soaked sea air pervades and building space is minimal, it is metal; it is sunk into solid rock. The shrine dates from the first days of settlement on Ourybia - it is a repurposed footfall bunker, and must have been used by some of the first survey teams to step out onto the unknown planet, millennia ago. Friar Kram - "Friar" being an honorific borne by a shrine's designated caretaker rather than a specific rank in the Ordos - gives the binary equivalent of an avuncular chuckle. Rising to his not-inconsiderable height, he still has to look up to the gangly Voidborn addressing him, although in terms of mass he's probably three or four times his superior. Frowning slightly, but with all the overtones of friendliness <Ah, the off-worlder. I should have realised. To hazard an estimate I would say there are perhaps twenty of the brethren on-planet who have experience of orbital micro-manufactorums.> He flexes a mechandrite, and frowns once more. <Our ranks tend to be drawn from the local populace, you see, and for the first few decades their focus tends more towards the... practical. Halting the onstep of corrosion, rendering of the eighteen prescribed anointment oils from local resources, and the like.> Frowning a third time - and it's apparent that this isn't a signifier of ill-will, but more of a glitch in his facial-emotional routines; he would be a hellish poker opponent - the Friar clanks towards a cramped staircase leading into the bowels of the bunker, beckoning for Aperta to follow. <Come, let us attend to the lower shrines. It has been some time since the arrival of a brother-Adept of sufficient mettle to deal with some of the more... challenging propitiations, and I fear some of the more intransigent elder spirits will require the assistance of a second.> ----- Mercantalism Munitorum Bunker Port Remonstrance Cradling his new gains in a hastily-repurposed tarp under one arm, Aperta meets Max and Ignatius outside of the Munitorum depot. Entering, the adepts push past several PDF members on their way out; several oil-smeared technomats loiter vaguely, accomplishing tasks of little effort or importance. Adept Brunell's eyes light up with wonder and incredulity and, shortly, confusion as Aperta hands over the stack of requisition forms and begins to get to work on the paper-and-mechanical backlog filling up a fair portion of the corner of the workshop. Ignatius and Max wait at the counter, making idle small talk, answering pertinent questions about the requisitions and, for the most part, deflecting as much suspicion as they can. Returning with a heaped pile of boxes - even the local cardboard smells faintly fishy - Brunell narrows his eyes at Max's suggestion that some of the depot's kit could find its way out into the general population without being signed out correctly. "We barely have enough to get by as it is! I admit, a little extra stipend could be helpful, but... no, we need to keep this lot over-the-table, thank you." He does, however, shyly slide an attache case over to Ignatius. "We don't actually have a weapon to your specifications in stock, sir. The last one was signed out some six months ago by the local garrison-house commander. I did find this hunting pistol out back, though - it's a venerable old model. Going by the notes on the item database, its STC pattern makes note of its, ah-" - he consults the attached slip of parchment, and lapses into High Gothic - "'ｆｕｉｔａｂｉｌｉｔｙ ｆｏｒ ｈｕｎｔｉｎｇ ｅａｆｉｌｙ ｆｔａｒｔｌｅｄ ｇａｍｅ', whatever that may mean". Apparently the gun emits no visible light whatsoever, and doesn't have the characteristic crack of a standard laspistol; Ignatius starts a little as the grip moulds itself distressingly to his palm on picking it up, but he'll get used to it. The other acquisitions are brought out. Lines of credit are scrutinised. The heat of the day starts to seep in. ---- right, so, aperta's hit up the mech shrine, and has been roped into dealing with annoyed, unpropitiated machine spirits - gimme some reason for this dude giving you a plasma gun in exchange for some of your resources. if you would like a default option, i'd say go with "this plasma gun's just woken up for the first time in hundreds and hundreds of years. i guess you can take it but this counts as a favour and your influence decreases". reqs are mostly done from munitorum depot. ones that make sense as not being off-the-shelf in a munitorum branch are from the admech bunker instead and do not benefit from +10 aperta's doing the admech ones, ignatius is doing the ones he's indicated he wants, and i've got max as doing the remainder of the munitorum ones simply because ignatius hasn't jumped in and because getting the +5 influence bonus and then making aperta do the checks as well as the scutwork is a bit of a dick move. plus aperta's now got lower INF adept brunell gets 2DoS on the opposed commerce, barely - he beats you by 1DoS, you get no bonus. admech ones: plasma gun + 4 tanks (2 + 2 Aperta FEL bonus) - Very Rare - subtlety loss 3 - diceroll: autopass, 2DoS, influence loss: 3, comes with 3 tanks plasma gun tanks - Rare - subtlety loss 2 - diceroll: 98 vs 10, influence loss = 9 (DoF) - 2 (FEL bonus) = 7 (you probably don't need more than 3 tanks right now, and probably didn't realise you get that many with an autopass req, so rather than fate pointing this i will say just ignore it) sacred unguents - Very Rare - subtlety loss 0 (i will not penalise you for getting unguents from the admech that makes no sense) - diceroll 65 vs 30 - 30 (VR) + 30 (circumstance), influence loss = 4 (DoF) - 2 (FEL bonus) = 2 Aperta total party subtlety loss = 3, total personal influence loss = 5. but see below munitorum ones - ignatius: "Caecus" hunting laspistol (repurposed GC laspistol with different bonus) - Common (base) - subtlety loss 0 - diceroll: 26 vs 41 (INF) +10 (Availabilty) - 20 (GC) + 10 (circumstance) = 3DoS, comes with four clips. this is a standard laspistol with no muzzle flash and the volume of a throwing knife. red dot scope (unattached) - Scarce - subtlety loss 1 - diceroll: 20 vs 41 (INF) - 10 (Scarce) + 30 (parts) + 10 (circumstance) = 71; 6DoS, upgraded to attached due to surplus DoS custom grip (unattached) - Rare - subtlety loss 2 - diceroll: 29 vs 41 (INF) - 20 (Rare) + 30 (parts) + 10 (circumstance) = 61; 5DoS, upgraded to attached due to surplus DoS smoke nades - common - subtlety loss 0 - diceroll: 57 vs 41 (INF) + 10 (common) + 10 (circumstance) = 61; 2 DoS, 2 grenades stun nades - common - subtlety loss 0 - diceroll: 76 vs 41 (INF) + 10 (common) + 10 (circumstance) = 61; 2 DoF, no grenades, no influence loss concealed holster - common - subtlety loss 0 - diceroll: 78 vs 41 (INF) + 10 (common) + 10 (circumstance) = 61; 2 DoF, no holster, no influence loss ignatius total party subtlety loss: 3, total personal influence loss: 0 munitorum ones - max: rolls are in order Compact weapon mod - average - subtlety loss 0 - diceroll: 25 vs 30 (INF) + 30 = 60, 4DoS Red-Dot Laser sight weapon mod - scarce - subtlety loss 1 - diceroll: 84 vs 30 (INF) + 30 (parts) - 10 (Scarce) + 10 (circumstance) = 60, 3DoF, influence loss: 3 (DoF) - 2 (FEL bonus) = 1 Expanded Magazine weapon mod - scarce - subtlety loss 1 - diceroll: 5, look this is pretty clearly a success Smoke grenades - common - subtlety loss 0 - diceroll: 71 vs 29 (INF) + 10 (rarity) + 10 (circumstance) = 49, 4DoF, no grenades, influence loss: 4 (DoF) - 2 (FEL bonus) = 2 Stun grenades - common - subtlety loss 0 - diceroll: 54 vs 27 (INF) + 10 (rarity) + 10 (circumstance) = 47, 2DoF, no grenades Frag grenades - common - subtlety loss 0 - diceroll: 93 vs 27 (INF) + 10 (rarity) + 10 (circumstance) = 47, 6DoF, no grenades, influence loss: 6 (DoF) - 2 (FEL bonus) = 4 custom grip for las pistol - rare - subtlety loss 2 - diceroll: 46 vs 23 (INF) - 20 (Rare) + 30 (parts) + 10 (circumstance) = 43, 1DoF modified stock for las pistol - scarce - subtlety loss 1 - diceroll: 50 vs 23 (INF) - 10 (Scarce) + 30 (parts) + 10 (circumstance) = 53, 1DoS modified stock for plasma gun, i guess - scarce - subtlety loss 1 - diceroll: 50 vs 23 (INF) - 10 (Scarce) + 30 (parts) + 10 (circumstance) = 53, 1DoS sacred inscriptions for las pistol - scarce - subtlety loss 1 - diceroll: 55 vs 23 (INF) - 10 (Scarce) + 30 (parts) + 10 (circumstance) = 53, 1DoF hot shot charge packs - scarce - subtlety loss 1 - diceroll: 40 vs 23 (INF) - 10 (Scarce) + 10 (circumstance) = 33, 1DoF flak helmet - average - subtlety loss 0 - diceroll: 72 vs 23 (INF) + 20 (circumstance) = 43, 4DoF, influence loss: 4 (DoF) - 2 (FEL bonus) = 2 auspex - scarce - subtlety loss 1 - diceroll: 89 vs 21 (INF) + 20 (circumstance) = 41, 5DoF, influence loss: 5 (DoF) - 2 (FEL bonus) = 3 data slate - autopass max total party subtlety loss: 9, total personal influence loss: 12; but see below bulworth acquisitions haven't been done yet - need to know who's grabbing these. by nature of what he's after, you may have considerably more luck trying the criminal underworld.  it's pretty clear that requisition rules are horrifically broken, so, houserule: if you Req something and fail badly enough to hit the influence penalty for doing so, this influence penalty is only permanent if the item is Rare or greater; this represents actual resources you've sunk into tracking the item in question down, rather than just trying to get something off the shelf this means that the only PERMANENT influence burns are Aperta on the plasma gun and unguents (which can be fate pointed, and i think 2 INF for one fate spend is a good deal); everyone elses' lines of credit will have cleared up again by next time you try and req stuff total subtlety loss is 15. lmao
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Aug 8, 2016 23:17
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Ultraism The Rookery Port Remonstrance https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GwmdscZNTQU Some of the cell occupy their time with acquisition of matériel; in the meantime, wending their way through crowded, scorching city streets as the day heats up, Bulworth and Gamma make their way back to the Gilded Thorn by a circuitous, roundabout route. It's a fairly basic precaution - never know who might decide to idly tag along, see what you're up to - but more to the point, it keeps them in as much shade as possible. The sun bleeds down on the muggy, hazy archipelago as they complete a little shopping - partly for the cover, partly because a frozen canister of ploin juice rarely goes down badly on a hot day - and, soon, they come across their destination. The crowds start thickening about a hab-block's length out from the ravaged club. Street vendors are doing a roaring trade catering to the gawping layabouts, and the crowds are parted again and again by small bands of noble family retainers heading to and from the Gilded Thorn. They march in wedge formation, grim-faced and hands on weapon holsters, escorting groups of liveried servants. The servants bear stretchers, sedans, pallenquins, caskets. There's a lot of bodies being taken away from the venue - some warm, some cooling, all damaged. Closer to the scene, a cordon reveals itself. The local Enforcer contingent - not the hired help from local criminal elements, but an actual professional, funded pacification force - stand shoulder-to-shoulder at entrances and windows, with a few roving officers strolling up and down the length of the building frontage, dissuading any gawkers from getting too close with truncheon and shotgun stock. There's a lot of leather and flakweave evident - it must be hellish in this weather, but they're still fully geared up and loaded for bear. Occasionally the group at the door part to allow ingress or egress; a steady trickle of medical adepts appear to be making their way into the building, presumably reassigned from elsewhere in the city. Bulworth bats away a hand questing towards his petty cash, and glimpses a small orange-suited figure vanish into the crowd. He's not seeing a lot of rank insignia on the crew outside - they're probably the ones too new, dumb, sullen or brutish to merit promotion, and can probably be cowed, persuaded or just straight-up overmastered without a great deal of preparation. Still, given the numbers, and extrapolating for the side and rear entrances, there's a good few squads of Enforcers kicking around here. This probably means pressure from higher up - either noble or Arbite. Anyone who's not rank and file is probably inside - it's cooler, it's where the action is, and it's also where there's a load of unsupervised high-end booze. If it's a noble squad pulling the shots, there'll likely be some high-end retainers in there. If it's Arbites, there'll be some Veruspex adepts swanning about, and maybe a rep from the local precinct. --- Cryptorchidism Inland Noble Quarters Port Remonstrance  Eadian, while the others investigate or acquire, takes the opportunity to clear his head a little following the unpleasantness of the previous night. Heading inland by rickshaw, he passes a quiet hour or so in the shaded areas of the Hightown botanic gardens - his reverie is rudely interrupted, however, as a particularly verdant section of shrubbery grows a muscular arm and hauls him into its confines. Flat on his back and pinned by his two assailants, the noble can only struggle feebly as a remarkably long, curved knife - is that made of bone, or baleen? - comes into focus, and nestles gently against the curve of his throat. An accented voice rasps in his ear. "Now my brother's gonna ask you once, and only once, and we're gonna want a very simple answer, very quickly", growls Thunder. "We're gonna listen very hard, which is good, 'cause if you try speakin' too loud you're probably gonna slash yer throat and save us the trouble." Lightning takes up the thread. "What. Did. You. Do. With. Our. Boss?" ---- Veganism Remonstrance Morgue Port Remonstrance  Shadows lengthen as Max and Ignatius stride towards the curious, church-like morgue affixed to the large, public, Deculon-built hospital near the main dockyards. Their presence here is a guess, but an educated one - the victims of whatever's doing these killings were low-level retainers or really extended members of the Deculon family, so they're unlikely to be taken to Deculon private facilities. Realistically, Iseppo's also only dealing with Deculon corpses - there's no reason to assume the killer respects dynastic lines. Of course, if he, or she, or it does, then that's a rather interesting tidbit of information... The morgue's enormous simply because of its multiplicity of duties. Yes, it has to prepare some bodies for traditional funerals; yes, it also has to act as a crematorium; yes, it has a higher than usual density of shrines and skulls for an Imperial building. But it also has a fairly extensive mechanics wing, for the servitorization of relatively intact bodies; it also has a rendering and refinery plant, for those too damaged or poor to warrant anything other than transformation into feed substrate for the krill farms. The effluent pipes pumping into the harbour teem with a vibrant array of sea-life. It's a public building - the front door's open, if guarded by a fairly disinterested PDF conscript. There's probably also a back door, for those who know where to look. ---- first up, req tests i forgot to do: these go against unmodified influence because it's fairer that way aperta - tools for Trade: Armourer - basically a repurposed multitool that's only used for trade tests - Rare - subtlety loss 0 (i will not penalise you for getting tools to do admech stuff from the admech that makes no sense) - diceroll: 62 vs 30 (INF) - 20 (Rare) + 30 (circumstance) = 3DoF, influence loss = 3 (DoF) - 2 (FEL bonus) = 1 rather than "nope, no tools here sir!!", this could probably represent "we have very few toolkits left; here, have this one that will turn out not to be good enough to give a bonus but will still allow you to do gunsmithing" max - medkit - common - subtlety loss 0 - diceroll: 44 vs 35 (INF) + 10 (Common) + 10 (circumstance) = 55, 2DoS, medkit obtained. i'd rolled for this then realised you'd put dicerolls in your post specifically for the medkit, so i used that instead. which means you get a medkit instead of just missing out. anyway: gamma and bulworth have gone to check out the gilded thorn. this is on the same day as the requisitions - reasonably early in the morning, too - so basically the only stuff you'll have is stuff you a) already have, and b) have requisitioned en-route. the shotgun-with-deactivated-safety is an Average gun with a Rare mod so i will count it as Scarce - it can be traded in for +10 on any req of Average or above. bulworth: the enforcers are a little on edge given the number of corpses, but they're still not exactly professional about this. people who are looking to get in have a significantly easier time of it - fewer questions, less searching - if they... shall we say, if they come bearing gifts if you wanna get in, well, maybe there's an unguarded entrance, or maybe you could just go and ask. you can Influence these guys if you wish to gain egress and don't fancy skilling it up; these guys don't count as rare or below so there's no risk of perma-influence loss. if you wanna spyyyy from afar, remember the upstairs windows are pretty drat high up. downstairs ones, you can probably get a view from a neighbouring building. eadian dies soon without intervention max and ignatius go to the morgue after req tests; bodies on ice don't tend to need such immediate attention. please decide on your approach re: getting into the morgue; i don't want to make a big thing of this, preferring to focus on the bodies instead, so pretty much "you wanna talk your way in, break in, bust in, or just ask nicely?"
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Aug 11, 2016 22:36
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Eadian Valarius Inland Noble Quarters Port Remonstrance He had quite been enjoying the diversion the gardens allowed him, it had been very relaxing compared to the Dock bonfire not that long ago. Imagine his surprise to be pinned to the ground by the two idiots from the party. What did they want? Eadian had to really pay attention to make out the words through the accent.......better handle this delicately, he knew how to deal with bandit types from his days in the service, just a matter of not upsetting anyone....... My good men! So nice to see you, I assure you none of this is necessary, we feared you had perished in the firefight leaving the party! Issepo left with us, he is most unharmed. Thanks in no small part to your quick actions taking the lead on his security! Remove the knife gentlemen we are of the same goals here, surely we can just talk? It should have been 3long blasts and then 3short blasts yes? We should have given the signal but we were focused on getting your boss to safety. We took him to a Deculon security team. If you gentleman bring me, alive of course, to the Estate I am most certain that we can verify this. ------------------------------- so i'm using linguist to hopefully sound not like a pompus rear end and more like a man of the people. I want to convince them not to stabby stabby. I suppose this goes on my fellowship too. EDIT: Changing to tell them the real answer. AcidRonin fucked around with this message at 22:06 on Aug 12, 2016 |
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Aug 12, 2016 02:01
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give them an actual answer or die. 'he's fine' is not a satisfying answer to them - it could mean anything from 'he's home safe' to 'he's in a medicinal coma awaiting ransom'
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Aug 12, 2016 21:38
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Barry "The Bull" Bulworth https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MduJjbcLSqE The bustle of the open air market left something to be desired, and the near constant funeral procession marching though did nothing to liven the spirits of the people here. Me and gamma got here just in time for the food vendors to start opening for business. I spy out a clean-ish looking man selling grilled squid on a stick and got one for myself, and one for Gamma. I eye a spot nearby up a couple of stairs and away from the main hustle and bustle to get a better view of what we're dealing with. Judging by the noble families all marching through with their dead, the authorities weren't going out of their way to sweep this away on the down low. Investigation looked surprisingly by the books, even down to keeping the useful idiots on perimeter duty. "We can get past the kids on the outside easily enough. A distraction in one place can draw their forces away enough that we can through a gap, or we can single someone out who can be bought." I take a bite of the squid - it was both overly greasy yet somehow simultaneously bland and dry in a way that I couldn't quite explain - before continuing on. "Problem comes past that. Guards posted at the doors won't be so easily plied. If we had to get past them then this would be one the few times I wish we had Eadian here as a bullshit artist. I probably wouldn't suggest trying though, if anyone in or around the bar recognizes us they'll probably take us into custody for questioning." A crash is heard in the distance, one of the noble's palanquin guard apparently took offense with a street vendor and took the opportunity to bust out a couple of the vendor's teeth with a billyclub, the marketgoers jeer and yell before falling into business as usual. I continue, "We may have another way though, on the way though here, I seen a couple of fire ladders attached to the buildings in the alleyway, I may be able to scramble up to it and drop it down for you. If we can get the high ground we can always drop eaves from on high out of eyesight. You've got some sort of psychic sense power, don't you? You may be able to hear goings on in and around the building that I couldn't make out. Your call how you want to do this."
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Aug 12, 2016 21:39
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'Gamma' Once again Gamma is glad for the hat she acquired before cell was activated. She sips her juice thoughtfully as she considers the situation. The inside will be a charnel house with an vast oversupply of curious people, pictographers and enforcers - hardly the best spot to carry out a psychic investigation. But with the information she already has at her disposal maybe she doesn't need to risk causing a scene here... "I'm not even sure I need to be inside, honestly. I just need to follow the trail from here back to wherever the Hepaticons were drinking when they got...affected. I already have a rough idea of the place we're looking for but tracking back will give me an opportunity to test a theory." Stepping out of the flow of foot traffic to avoid being buffeted Gamma scans the cityscape as best she can from ground level, looking for any line of sight to the spires inhabited by the planetary nobility while making cryptic notes regarding her observations and suppressing the urge to try and stand on Bulworth's shoulders for better visibility. That done she hands puts her drink down and motions for Barry to stand by. "Let me just pick up the impression...ordinarily bli- uh, non-psykers don't leave much to work with, but seeing as people we met last night were under some kind of influence the residue of their though patterns should be more...distinct." In her second hand recollection of what happened to Nicolo she remembers clearly the stabbing, searing hatred than came when the mob saw the sign of the Gilded Thorn. That's her focus. Just breathe carefully, let the heat of the day relax her, and let the street...sing. Awareness to try and spot the towers? Psyniscience or Warp Perception to try and track the Hepaticon crew back to the bar they came from?
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Aug 14, 2016 15:47
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Aperta Ignavus Port Remonstrance Mechanicus Shrine - Theology Aperta bows his head to his colleague. <I apologize if I was presumptive, brother. Of course I will gladly assist you with anything you require.> He follows Friar Kram behind the holo-shrine and into an elevator to take them into the lower levels of the building where only those fully initiated into the Cult Mechanicus were permitted on pain of death. After the carriage begins its descent and continues downward for quite some time Aperta raises an eyebrow. <Your shrine goes quite a bit...deeper, than I had expected.> Kram waves a mechadendrite noncommittally in the air. <You're not the first to think this was just a tiny shrine to the great Lord of Knowledge. When this temple was built when the world was first brought back into compliance space upon the islands was already at a premium. So we dug down, where we would not be so constrained.> <A most logical decision.>. The doors of the lift slide open to reveal the lower shrine. To an untrained observer it would appear much the same as the level above. Although larger it is still cramped and cluttered with stacks of machinery, wires, and piping. But to Aperta's eyes it is immediately apparent that the quality and rarity of the machines here, while not nearly on par with those found in the Inquisition's shrines to the Omnissiah, were much greater than most anything else on the island and perhaps even the planet. There is little more conversation between the two devotees of the machine God as they begin the task of rousing long-dormant spirits of some machines and placating injured or otherwise upset spirits of others. Aperta enjoys the work, having had little opportunity to commune with machine spirits in such a way since beginning his assignment planet-side. It is several hours later, mid-morning, when something catches Aperta's eye. A tall, baroque, hexagonal stasis-container seemingly hidden behind a large bank of cogitators. <What is held here, brother?> Aperta asks as Cogitatio scans it with its auspex. Friar Kram lumbers slowly over and frowns. <I'm afraid I can't say. No one has been able to persuade the stasis-cell's spirit to open to us, and any record to its contents has been lost.> He explains. Aperta kneels down next to the container, while Cogitatio hovers above it. <If I might try something?> Aperta asks without looking up, already reaching into the folds of his robes. Kram frowns deeply, but says nothing and steps back. Mentally calling his familiar, Aperta removes a small box-like object from his robes, and slots the device into a port underneath the servo-skulls jawbone. With another command Cogitatio hovers upward and extends a long, silver spine from itself that it slides into a waiting slot on the stasis-cell. For a long few moments nothing appears to happen, until suddenly the box attached to Cogitatio begins to smoke, and then only seconds later POPs with a small shower of sparks and the servo-skull falls powerless into the waiting hands of its master, just as the panels of the stasis-cell slide down. <My word, how did you manage that?> Friar Kram bleats in astonishment. <Stasis units such as this are notoriously energy-hungry, and I surmised that this one's spirit was refusing to obey commands because it felt like it was being starved. This,> Aperta holds up the burnt-out object, <is a powerful capacitor. Cogitatio here fed the spirit a sudden surge of power along with repeated commands to open. Unfortunately the spirit was hungrier than I thought, and destroyed my capacitor and drained Cogitatio's reserves as well. But my servo-skull will be find as soon as I get it in the sunlight to recharge its stores.> <My word, that is rather ingenious of you, Magos Aperta.> Kram says as he stomps closer to the newly opened stasis-cell. The friar reaches in with a Mechadendrite and withdraws the contents, a slim bullpup plasma rifle. <Strange, this was never meant to be a weapons storage...> Kram says with yet another deep frown. Aperta observes the weapon intently, and jumps at the presented opportunity. <If I may, brother, I believe that weapon's spirit has been kept in stasis for many years. Weapons yearn to be free, to be used. It just so happens that thermo-plasmic ballistics passion of mine, and I would be able to handle the weapon's spirit with the utmost proficiency.> Kram holds the rifle for a few more quiet moments before extending it to Aperta. [b]<You know, when I first came to this temple I tried something similar to what you did to open this stasis-unit, as have most other Magi who have visited or served here. But you are the one to succeed. What you say is logical, and I believe it may be the will of the Omnissiah that you have this weapon... for a time, at least.> Aperta takes the offered weapon with all the due reverence and respect such a things deserves. [b]<Praise to the Omnissiah.>
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Aug 17, 2016 15:06
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Ignatius Malbau Remonstrance Morgue Port Remonstrance Ignatius observes the baroque edifice of the morgue silently for a few moments. He patted the deep pocket of his cloak, where he had decided to temporarily stash his new weapon until there was time to fashion a fully-concealed holster custom-fit for it." We could just go in the front door," he commented to the broad, imposing figure beside him, "But I'd rather not draw too much attention by checking in all these weapons." Well. "Any more attention than we'll draw regardless, that is" he half-joked, giving Max a wry smile. It was difficult not to notice Max Flightmaster. He... bulged, in a vaguely threatening manner. "I suppose we'll need some sort of simple reason for being here. We could claim Iseppo sent us to inspect Deculon bodies, but if that gets checked, he might be annoyed about it. We're out of uniform, so I don't think going with a Navy angle is ideal." After another moment's thought, Ignatius adds "We could just bribe our way through. Sometimes I find a fistful of scrip goes a lot farther than a convoluted explanation for why you're supposed to be permitted entry."
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Aug 17, 2016 15:22
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Ultraism, Cont. The Rookery Port Remonstrance https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2CxY17ZijdM Gamma doesn't have much luck with triangulating the position of the flaring tower from her vision - at least not from a vantage point on the ground, buffeted by crowds, and from a location totally distinct from her original viewpoint. Retreating up the nearby staircase with Bulworth - it's a rickety plastic-ceramic affair with a corrugated tile awning providing some much-needed shade, that doubles as fire escape and garden for the upper flat - she has a little more luck. She can work out the cluster of spires from which the curious pink flash emitted, but she's not positive enough of anything to start kicking down doors or scaling buildings in the night. Probably best to check out the view from the bar the Hepaticon attackers were frequenting. Bringing psychic might to bear requires focus - detecting ripples in the Empyrean requires precisely the opposite, a kind of designated letting-go, a deliberate dislocation of will. One of Gamma's more socially awkward trainers described it, memorably, as like "trying to piss with a stranger staring a hole in the back of your neck". In this case, at least the stranger's not breathing particularly hard - the psyker manages to detect the psychic spoor of the mob in fairly short order, and, using curious mental techniques taught to her, locks the sensation in a memory bubble at the back of her mind. Following the trail will require nothing more than a willingness to let her legs guide her. Reaching for her ploin juice again, she discovers it missing. The old lady to whom the flat and staircase belong stairs balefully at her from within the building, sipping pointedly. Gamma turns to Bulworth - it's probably time to move on, unless the pair wish to investigate the inside of the Thorn. --- Cryptorchidism Inland Noble Quarters Port Remonstrance https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DdCI15QojoA Thunder and Lightning exchange glances. "Lying?" one asks. The other considers for a long moment. "Maybe." A bead of blood forms around the point of the warknife currently making itself intimate with Eadian. "But let's go check it out. We got 'im now, and if the boss ain't back, we can pass 'im over to the torturer and go hunting for one of t'others. Tall lanky fop, or the dwarf woman."He drums his fingers on the sheath, flat against his thigh. "Probably oughta stick away from the bodyguard. Looks dumb and tough. And we ain't taking the techspeaker." Eadian is hauled to his feet. --- Veganism Remonstrance Morgue Port Remonstrance https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xmt53510qvY Incredibly, Ignatius appears to have found the one honest man in Remonstrance. He's really incredibly polite and softly spoken. It's utterly bizarre. The two voidfarers had, after a brief conference in the lee of one of the statues outside, swaggered into the morgue complex with the fake bravado of unimportant nobles and announced they wished to pick out some headstones for the duels they had scheduled tomorrow. Not for themselves, of course. For the other guys. A small handful of scrip is casually slapped down on the counter as they head for the entrance door, but the click of a disengaging lock is conspicuously absent. "I'm really terribly sorry, gents, but I can't let you through there. That's the storage ward - there's bodies in there, waiting for autopsy. Wouldn't want you to drop a stray hair on them, gents." He grins apologetically. Time to go deeper. Ignatius approaches the counter, looks both ways, and gives his best charming smile, Max bulging in a friendly fashion behind him. "Alright, you got me." The smile becomes a little more rueful, and tinged with sadness. "We... well, we're actually here as a favour. Our mistress lost family in yesterday's unpleasantness, and she's an elderly, delicate soul. We can't risk having her formally identify a couple of the bodies you have here without gauging the state they're in first, otherwise, well. You might gain an extra tenant, if you see what I mean. "I know it's meant to be next-of-kin only, but could you let this one slide?" That same apologetic grin again. This guy's wasted on morgue duty; he would be quite exquisite as an Interrogator. What on earth next? --- for gamma, scrutiny for the towers isn't really workable from the gilded thorn location - that'll come once you get to the origin venue. i'm not gonna make you roll to get your bearings at the mo; we'll get onto the source of the pulse once you're done with this place psyniscience test to get to origin bar is easily passed - I won't tell you the DoS but it's enough for you to just blank your mind and follow your legs. no danger of frenzy from this; apart from anything else, the madness was deliberately hidden during the mob's transit. you don't need to go inside the thorn if you think it's risky or, y'know, crashingly unsubtle - depends what you want to know. currently you can see the authorities are playing this straight, but you don't know whether it's joint-noble investigations or whether it's arbite command. i'm waiting to know whether you want to head on in or head on off! eadian will pass an uncomfortable hour in the company of the two bodyguards and then be ejected safely from the deculon estate once his horrible misunderstanding is all smoothed over. then you can go do something else. if there's anything you want to know from the deculons, that would be a topic for your next post - this can be eyeing up security, checking out the deculon response to last night's attack, asking servants stuff, schmoozing with nobles, leveraging off the fact that to deculon eyes, two of their staff representatives just kidnapped and assaulted a Navy personage who is busy trying to get a very lucrative contract fulfilled by their family, etc. tell me how you want to play it. max and ignatius have some p great rolls - 85 on a +30 Influence test for bribing, and then, uh, 85 on a Charm test. there's no penalty for this, as i'm fast forwarding things a little, but you still don't have access. you can whip up some story with Deceive - i know the above was technically a lie but that was narratively just a vector for a Charm test - you can go find a side entrance and Acrobatics or Security your way up, or if you don't mind burning a few Subtlety points, you can just pull rank and go "dude, we're going in there"
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Aug 18, 2016 21:49
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Its funny you mention security because I was going to actually probably take that route when I got around to posting tomorrow. I'll write up something suitable to describe a discreet Max led B&E and we'll go from there.
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Aug 19, 2016 00:52
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Max Flightmaster "Well done sentry, you are to be commended. What's your name?" Max asks and makes a mental note to snatch this guy later for the retinue if a background and psych check works out. After he gets the name he thanks him for doing his job well and does his best to reassure him, with Ignatius's help of course, that this was just a test to see if anyone could get past him. He tells Ignatius they are leaving and to come back in a hour after circling the block and spotting a decent side entrance. "I like that sentry. Hard to find a man in this universe whose loyal when no one else is looking. Think we can run a bit of background on him and see if he's suitable for this line of work?" Max says as he slipsthe a multi-key from his flak coat and gets to work on the door. "Time to get in and see those bodies. Try to stay out of sight but if anyone lays eyes on you, let me know so I can put em to rest. No one lives who sees us." Security vs 70, fatepoint if needed.
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Aug 21, 2016 13:57
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Barry "The Bull" Bulworth https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TZ0FyBGVdu8 I sighed with relief when Gamma said she didn't need to go inside. Security was so thick around the building I don't think we could of gotten inside even if we wanted to. It makes sense that the local authorities are playing this as above the board as possible with the amount of noble deaths that happened last night. I didn't know enough about the family insignias to know if any Hepaticon representatives were there, though I was kind of curious if they would even show up to claim their dead and if they were seen as the aggressor in the conflict. We'll have to wait and see if any public account of the events come out. That being said , Gamma shut her eyes to focus and let her feet carry her as well as she could given the crowd was packed in like pickled fish. I take one last bite of my squid and throw the skewer into the alley as I move to clear a path in the crowd for Gamma to move through. ---- I don't think I'd be able to get close enough to the crime scene to make a difference without a seasoned liar with us, so I've seen all that I need to see. Instead I'm going to try to help Gamma through the crowd and hopefully into some back alleys so she can do her MIND TRACKING unmolested. Just FYI, I should of mentioned it back at the beginning of the scene but I'm not armored/shotgun-ed right now and I'm just carrying my two pistols should anything bad start happening. I don't know if it's possible to separate the breastplate from the rest of my enforcer light carapace but it could be useful if only to give me a basic amount of protection while minimizing the amount of attention drawn by the man wearing riot armor. It may be prudent at some point to look at trying to find some 'commoner' armor for our walkabouts in case some poo poo goes down outside our big setpiece events. DeathSandwich fucked around with this message at 16:25 on Aug 22, 2016 |
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Aug 22, 2016 16:21
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Ignatius Malbau Remonstrance Morgue Port Remonstrance Ignatious shakes his head emphatically. "No way, Flightmaster. This isn't wetwork. We're not going to murder loyal citizens merely for seeing us. If we are caught and they attempt to detain, we have our cover story, and we have a high-level local family connection. Either I talk our way out, or we pull strings. Iseppo all but requested us to investigate the murders he referred to, so he might be annoyed if we get caught busting into the morgue, but it's not going to blow our cover. And for that matter, even if our cover gets blown, we will still have options to lay hands on Cisneros: we can pull rank, invoke the Inquisition, and it'd be a big noisy mess, but we'll get her." Ignatius pats his shock maul. "Nonlethal force, Max, unless lethal force is used against us, or against a high-value ally we need to protect, like Iseppo." Yeah uh lets not murder people just for seeing us, that'd probably be a hit to our subtlety, not to mention it's outright evil."
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Aug 22, 2016 19:02
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Max Flightmaster "Throne Damned lock." Max says as he bitches to himself until it pops open finally. "I'll take that under advisement, we'll do it your way Mister." Max says as he sets the timer function on his wrist mounted chrono, giving himself 15 minutes to work. He keeps his shotgun slung on his back. "If someone hears us, walk the other way, if someone sees us I'll lure them to you and you knock them the gently caress out. We'll be in for 15 minutes we'll be out after that." Max says as he flips the stummer on, activates the timer on his chrono and gets to sneaking. Security vs 70: 1d100 68 Viva Miriya fucked around with this message at 12:17 on Aug 23, 2016 |
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Aug 23, 2016 11:32
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'Gamma' After making a sour face at the old women who stole her juice, Gamma trails behind Bulworth giving quiet directions to their next stop. Don't really have anything else to add.
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Aug 23, 2016 14:50
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Goddamnit, edit is not quote. I'm a loving dipshit
Who What Now fucked around with this message at 18:50 on Aug 29, 2016 |
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Aug 25, 2016 19:35
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Magnetism The Rookery - Source Port Remonstrance https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xsR793jBY9E Disconnect. Dislocate. And disembark. Gamma, de-ploined as well, begins tracing the path followed by the crowd that assaulted the Gilded Thorn the previous night. She trails, in a mild trance - Bulworth leads, forging a path. They push through crowds and wend through narrow walkways above a becalmed sea. The trail branches and recombines a little, but Gamma follows the strongest sensation - still, it's interesting that whatever instigated the attack, it gave its victims enough agency to split up and find appropriate routes for a big group rather than simply demanding they follow the shortest path. It speaks not of a random warp spasm overwriting all higher functions, but of an animating intelligence modifying basic motivations. The pair wind their way across the bay a little, towards what looks to be the other shore-facing corner of the Rookery quarter. The trail begins to sharpen and twist as they come into a small, tiled plaza built around a rocky outcropping; the buildings around this square are opulent by Rookery standards, and there's less in the way of street crowds to contend with. Those hawkers out this early in the morning look a bit less shabby than their counterparts at the Gilded Thorn end of things. Gamma, still faintly entranced, is - not knowing what lingers at their destination - very careful to keep her third eye focused solely on the path ahead of her. Still, she raises an eyebrow at her apparent destination - in what appears to be rather poor taste, the source of the maddened crowd appears to be a bar named "Blood of the Sea Grape". No enforcers are in evidence - it looks like the pair have found their way here ahead of the Port authorities. The door opens and closes with a creak as the Acolytes head inside. Initial glances around the premises reveal no serious disruption other than spilled drinks and knocked over tables, and- oh. The bar's tucked away behind the corner, out of sight of the door. Behind it, the unfortunate bartender lies crumpled, dried rivulets of blood streaming from nostrils and ears. Maybe he reacted badly to whatever did this to the crowd? In any event, no cleaners appear to have yet shown up, no looters have tried their luck. It seems the local area just hasn't realised what happened here yet, and the place is a blank slate for whatever investigations the pair wish to- Creeeeaakkk The owner? Looters? Or an interested party? ----- Opportunism Remonstrance Morgue Port Remonstrance https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d4sEypY-4YU After a brief discussion on the merits of murdering whatever public servants stand in their way, Ignatius and Max pad their way up a rockcrete fire escape and jimmy open the latch, disabling the attached alarm with a few judicious jolts from the multikey's capacitor. Thankfully, the need for lethal force doesn't come up - most of the staff on-site appear to be servitors, and although the acolytes do come across a few individuals possessing of higher thought, they're buried in data processing. Specifically, the Ourybian problem of attempting to interface with clanky standard-template Imperial machinery, with none of the augmentation that more technology-focused worlds could bring to bear. The morgue is a blessedly cool relief from the muggy summer heat, as those Imperial servants who have earned or afforded a funeral take a well-earned rest from their labours. Judging by the duty roster, there's about twenty minutes before the next batch of mortuary assistants arrive to begin pre-autopsy processing; judging from the bugged-out servitor currently attempting to walk through the wall in the corner of the room, it's been a few minutes since someone's been in here. It's fairly difficult to stealthily roll out a mortuary drawer, but, after setting up the stummer and leafing through the inventory and pre-autopsy reports, the pair of acolytes give it a stab anyway. The first body is a sight to behold and a smell to forget - Ignatius, jaded to mundane horrors, simply blinks and wrinkles his nose at the stench, but Max gags and has to take a moment to slip his rebreather on. It's obvious this corpse lay in the Ourybian summer heat for a few days before being found; the mortuary slab has arrested its decay slightly, but not entirely, and it's pretty badly decomposed. Great gashes are visible in its arms - defensive wounds? - and the notes report no serious puncture wounds. It was slashed to death. This one was a minor Pallyrion noble, holding an admin role in a high-sec detention facility - the sort of detention facility that tends to get repurposed for tithe prisoner storage whenever the Black Fleet approaches. The second body's in a bit more of a fit state for examination, although a little bloated from the sea. Male, early thirties, Terentian clade, red hair, green eyes, no left leg. No defensive wounds, either. Interestingly, the cause of death for this one wasn't drowning - there's signs of water inhalation, but it's suggested that he bled out underwater. Which indicates that the killer grabbed him from the sea, tore his leg off, and cast him aside. This one's a security guard from the Deculons - no indication of where he guarded, though. The third body; this one's the jackpot. Early forties, private house security captain for the Hepaticons. Brought in this morning, she's still able to serve the Emperor in death. Initial wounds were exsanguinatory in nature, and inflicted from behind. That wasn't enough to finish her, though, and she put up a fight. Examination of her defensive wounds proves conclusive - they're not made by a chainsword, they're from great, rending claws. Not like any Max has encountered, though - he's seen large serrated scythes, he's seen short, cat-like gripping claws, but these ones... they look more like butcher hooks. The spacing indicates more than one on the assailant's hand, so either they're dealing with a particularly bizarre ogryn serial killer - who else could grip a handful of butcher hooks tightly enough to wound through flakweave? - or a very strange animal, mutant, or xenos. The nearest thing Max can think of is a hulghast, common on voidships, but the claw penetration's all wrong. Cause of death was evisceration, apparently while she was unconscious. No head wounds were in evidence, so maybe it was blood loss? Or choking? Voices. From the corridor. Time the acolytes were scarce. ----- Absenteeism Deculon Estate Port Remonstrance https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hgw_RD_1_5I Eadian sits in his holding cell. Surely this mess'll be sorted out soon. Hey, are those footsteps? ----- gamma and bulworth warp to the place the crowd came from! you have company! whaddaya wanna do? max and ignatius get to the morgue proper; i ain't gonna make you do stealth rolls for this, it doesn't really add much. what i am making you do is medicae/lore rolls on the bodies you find, and i ain't giving you the results (or putting them through orokos!) because then you'd know how badly/well you failed/succeeded. but, yeah, you didn't gently caress up. the thing what's doing these killings has claws, stealth, and a mean streak. first body is pretty nasty. ignatius is jaded, max rolls vs vomit and succeeds. i'm gonna move towards shifting you all into the next plot bit soon; so apologies to aperta who ain't had much to do other than rol dise and grab a plasma gun. if you wanna get mods attached, feel free to do it yourself and assume that any party members you want can lend a hand - or, i can do it, your choice. max and ignatius can scurry out of the morgue in short order, and if you've got anything else you wanna do, you've got a couple days to do stuff that can be abstracted away as dice rolls. actually tracking whatever's been killing peeps will be for after the next plot encounter after you meet Cisneros. you can try and chat up/hire/extort some specialists in this kind of thing if you like gamma and bulworth will have a little more to do, but first things first are to tell me what you wanna do at the bar - what do you want to do re: intruder, and are you just psysensing and looking to find out what spire the pink flash came from? actually going to said spire, if you manage to locate it, will probably be for after the next plot encounter. eadian j/os in his cell
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Aug 25, 2016 23:08
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Max Flightmaster "Time to leave." Max says as he leads him and Ignatius the gently caress outta the morgue, doing his best to leave as little trace of their passage as possible under the circumstances. He even locks up after himself once they are out. Max has nothing to say about what they've seen until they get back to the safehouse to meet the others at which point he'll report his findings and beg the question. "Any of you know much about Xenos or Mutants? What's causing this?"
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Aug 25, 2016 23:21
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Ignatius Malbau Remonstrance Morgue Port Remonstrance "Agreed," Ignatius replies, quickly and calmly switching off his auspex, pushing the last body back into its cold storage, committing the name and other information on the chart stapled to its foot to memory, and then following Max out the way they'd come. As soon as they have cleared the building, Ignatius has a dataslate out, making notes. "This is not what I was expecting, Flightmaster. I supposed some sort of intrigue between rival houses, but the victims don't appear to be related to one specific house... and the murderer is either mutant or xenos or both. We need to confer with our colleagues." Ignatius' experience with xenos is mostly limited to the orks, and his experience with mutants is mostly limited to the kind of pathetic unfortunates you find in the worst parts of slums - humans and abhumans adversely affected by exposure to toxics and radiation, in the largest part, as opposed to the warp-influenced mutations he has only read about in Naval officer training manuals. Even so, he racks his brain to think of some possibilities, as the pair make their way - mostly in silence - back to the warehouse to reconnoiter with the rest of the team. Whatever I can get from skilled or unskilled checks on Common Lore and/or Peer checks. Also, in case it makes any difference or would have been useful, Ignatius uses his auspex on the bodies. It's like a gothic-themed tricorder, right? Maybe he can pick up some unusual sensor readings. If the morgue's body tags included information on the exact coordinates where they were recovered, I'm definitely making a note of that; we might want to drag Gamma to one or more murder scenes to see what she can turn up.
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Aug 25, 2016 23:55
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Eadian Valarius Inland Noble Quarters Port Remonstrance This is a fine mess. Eadian had really thought that this was going to go a bit differently. He certainly hadn't considered being thrown in prison. He moves to the corner of his cell so he can reach for something surreptitiously. Activating the com-bead and holding it to the wall, he hits it against the wall a few times to try and generate a clicking noise. Then keeping it activated, he says, a bit more louder and pompously than is necessary, I hope you'r all very pleased with yourself! I am from a very prominent noble family and incarcerating me like this is MOST unnecessary and disrespectful. Hello?? I do indeed hope someone is listening to this! by which he means two things, He hopes that someone comes lets him out of this cell, but not before someone has heard him on the com beads that no one has on. Hopefully he can use this as an information gathering opportunity, but he needs to coordinate with the team. -------_------------ sort of a sick mix of peer nobility and hoping someone else's perception in our group picks up. AcidRonin fucked around with this message at 04:18 on Aug 28, 2016 |
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Aug 27, 2016 15:10
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'Gamma' It's no great surprise to Gamma that she and Bulworth have beaten the local authorities to the punch here - after all, they are agents of the Inquisition and she is a trained sanctioned psyker, mind-blind planetary enforcers are hardly in the same league. She is preparing to carry out a thorough inspection of the sight when the door sounds. Not the enforcers, they would have announced themselves. Probably a looter, but maybe...a witness? She gestures to Bulworth to take up an ambush position - whoever this intruder is is going to become a captive, with a bag over their head and subject to interrogation. If time permits before the interruption it would be nice to have done a mundane sweep of the site for evidence or whatever, then psyniscience, then an investigation of the body using Warp Perception. Otherwise I wanna black bag this sucker so we can take them back to the HQ for interrogation, and then do the investigation
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Aug 28, 2016 01:57
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Aperta Ignavus Port Remonstrance Safe House - Holy Work With preparations complete Aperta begins the real work, starting with what will be by far the most difficult and important of the tasks; installing the plasma gun into Cogitatio. He has, of course, worked with plasma reactors on starships countless times, used both as power supplies and lances, but to scale that technology down to such a degree will be a masterwork to rival the creation of his familiar. As he runs his fingers lightly over the casing he can feel the machine spirit within. Even deactivated and the metal cold the spirit's burning power is apparent, waiting to be unleashed in a torrent of nuclear fire. It will most likely not understand Aperta's plans at first, it will feel exposed and vulnerable as its outer shell is removed and it's inner workings laid bare. It may even rebel as it's magnetic coils and coolant systems are shortened and reconfigured to fit behind Cogitatio's grinning teeth. But if all goes well then it will also revel with newfound freedom as it integrates with the servitor's own collection spirits, and become as independent as any weapon could ever wish to be. But before any other that can happen, Aperta must first begin. And he does, with the single-minded focus on his work that only the initiated of the Machince-Cult can manage. He takes aid from his fellow acolytes as they return, particularly from Max who's... lateral thinking and naive mind provide Aperta novel solutions he will not otherwise have considered. The work takes a long time, and after it there are many more tasks, albeit simpler ones, that he will move on to immediately after, working tirelessly until everything is complete. ________________ I'm phone-posting, so it's very difficult for me to make so many rolls, so I'll have to ask DJF to do them for me. I will spend fate points to reroll failures to apply mods to the plasma gun.
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Aug 29, 2016 18:50
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Barry "The Bull" Bulworth https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ECyfX1OR_nk The Rookery The bar was about what I expected for a place that catered to D-list nobles. Run down just enough to make someone look tough for going there but enough creature comforts to someone use to living a higher quality lifestyle. This is where the havoc all started, something rousing the crowd to take up arms and go pick a fight. The bartender was dead, about as I expected. Whatever got them in the fighting mood, it started here. The door to the back office laid behind the bar. I turn to Gamma, "Check the backroom. Lets see if we can find a ledger, something that gives us a list of their clientele. Anything that can potentially help us identify who all was here both last night and over the last couple of weeks could give us new--" I was interrupted by a new sound. Back from the entrance, the door groaned and the distinctive sound of shoes clacking heavy on the wood floor can be heard. We had company and best as I could judge whomever it was wasn't aware that we were here. I slide into the back office and pull my autopistol into my hand. I turn to Gamma and motion for her to be quiet. I wave for her to get down and I look around the office quickly. In one of the nearby bins I spot a pile of discarded empty burlap recaf sacks. I grab one and slide back from the doorway, hoping to catch whomever it was off guard. --- Using Stealth to try to hide somewhere where I can catch a glimpse of our new friend and/or ambush him. Will fate point this. Ideally looking to hold him up to black bag him and answer some immediate questions, though I don't think we're going to have the ability to take him with us considering we don't have a vehicle. Dragging someone through the streets at gunpoint on foot is probably not the best idea. At the bar, I'm looking for client ledgers and anything that can help us find common patrons and in particular who was there last night - Ledgers, Bar Tabs, discarded wallets, that sort of stuff. Over the coarse of the next few days I want to see if any of the people who were here either left before the killswitch was flipped or find out if any of them survived. Out of character if we had a list of names of patrons for this place we can cross reference them to the autopsy names that Max and Ignatius to see if there's any common thread there. If while we're here we find any evidence of underhanded business transpiring I'll pocket that as well. DeathSandwich fucked around with this message at 15:26 on Aug 30, 2016 |
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Aug 29, 2016 20:11
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Opportunism, cont. Remonstrance Morgue Port Remonstrance Ignatius has been taking his own readings while Max has been performing the pre-pre-autopsies. There's... gunk in the wounds, it turns out; tuned correctly, after Max briefly darts his hand towards the device to twiddle a few dials, the auspex picks up microscopic fragments in the fluid coating the wounds. Looks like... some sort of chitinous compound? Doesn't fit the profile of an insect. Looks more deep-sea than anything else. In any event, it's definitely an indication that these wounds were produced by claws, rather than a weapon. There's more stuff in this gunk, but Ignatius hasn't got the time right now to properly analyse it. He scrapes it into some handy sample tubes and screws the skull-shaped stoppers on tight. Some sort of labwork might be in order. But first... flight. --- Absenteeism, cont. Inland Noble Quarters Port Remonstrance The footsteps resolve themselves into the portly and worried face of a minor Deculon functionary. His is an expression of dread and horror; he knows that Thunder and Lightning will never be castigated for what they've done, and so some other scapegoat needs to be found for Eadian's abduction. As the door is unlocked by coolly professional guards and he stands in the cell doorway wringing his hands, the Deculon appears to be about five harsh words away from making GBS threads himself. "I am," he gulps, "most dreadfully sorry.". The cell becomes a distant memory in fairly short order as Eadian is led genteely towards freedom, wending through the labyrinthine Deculon estate. It's fairly late in the first day of the cell's investigations and every so often he's been able to commune with the rest of his team through the commbead and a convenient nearby signal booster. The Deculon flunky has been almost embarrassingly accommodating, keeping up a constant stream of flattering apology and acquiescing to pretty much all of Eadian's minor requests - dry cleaning, a formal apology, etc - and, in keeping with this, the next room Eadian's led to is a drat sight more useful to him than the previous. --- Ptyalism Safe House Port Remonstrance https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=07X8Xy-IBlE On the second day, Aperta, between sky and water, surrounded by the tools of his profession, gives himself to the whisperings of machine spirits completely. It will be some time before he comes up for air. --- Perfectionism Blood of the Sea Grape Port Remonstrance https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4Diu2N8TGKA Maybe Bulworth's not quite shaken off yesterday's food poisoning. Maybe it's the residual warp energy of the place draining his luck. Maybe he's just out of sorts, or maybe he's just decided to gently caress everything up today. The Arbite takes up position by the side of the door to anticipate their imminent company. Unfortunately, he didn't take a particularly close look at the hinges. As the oblivious landlord turns the key in the lock and opens the door, he shoves it open with greater than expected force, sending the door - and its large, ornamental stuffed parrotfish - straight into Bulworth, knocking the air out of him with an exasperated "gently caress". Astonished, the landlord wheels round to see who's hovering behind his door, only to get the muzzle of a stub automatic shoved up into his face with a wheezing "GERROUNTHEFLOOR" from the doubled-over Arbite. The beginnings of a sneer form on the landlord's face, and his mouth shapes the beginning syllables of "I poo poo bigger guns than that, you little-", as Gamma's staff sweeps his legs out from under him. The butt of the stub auto crashes down on the landlord's temple - he sees blackness, discontinuity, and when he comes round he is trussed with manacles and gagged with some rather unpleasant dishcloths. The taste is extraordinary. Things probably could have gone a little better. Rifling quickly through the bar as its owner grunts on a table behind them, Gamma and Bulworth find little of specific interest. There's evidence of low-grade drugdeals going on - scraps of paper, little plastic bags - and there's a list of bar regulars squirrelled away in a small sharkskin-bound book behind the dispenser-servitor built into the pumps. All of these regulars will, in the coming days, turn out to have died in the attack on the Gilded Thorn - the conclusion to be drawn will be that there's no inside man here, no quisling who sold out his buddies. It's just a bunch of drunks, out for a good time, that got caught up in something far beyond them. The Gilded Thorn may have been a target; this place was just collateral. The bartender appears to have died from massive blood loss and haemorrhaging. His eyes appear to have exploded. Gamma can't manage to form a meaningful psychic connection with the body - maybe he's been dead too long? Mindful of what happened last time she connected to a victim of whatever fuelled yesterday's attack, she doesn't push her attempts at mental meshing. It could be dangerous. Meanwhile, and distasteful as it may be, Bulworth collects blood and tissue samples in sterile ampoules. He may not have the specific medical knowledge to make use of them, but someone in the cell probably has. Maybe there's some reason this guy didn't get rewritten like the other bargoers. Dispiriting as the bar visit may have been, there's still one silver lining. Seating herself in the chair vacated most recently by Nicolo, and trying her best to line up the view with the deceased's final memories, Gamma focuses, breathes, and learns. Her eyes snap open with certainty - the source of last nights' flare was that tower. That one, there. Not the tallest, but the one with, arguably, the greatest resonance with the warp-flows underpinning what passes for the Rookery's main streets. The... tower jutting from the outskirts of the Hepaticon estate. The tower that will, on later investigation, turn out to have been designed, years ago, by a young Adept Cizneros. --- so, the auspex takes a Tech-Use test to actually use - max is better at techuse than ignatius so i have assumed that he's the one who actually switched it on with ignatius helping him, rather than the other way around. it is good that i did this because otherwise you would have got nothing of interest - you only barely passed by, like, one. auspex reveals that our killer's got claws, rawr. there's no tags on where the bodies were found but the deculons could certainly tell you exactly where their one was. they could even let you check out the site! someone just needs to ask 'em. other members of the cell can chime in with common/scholastic/forbidden lores if you like. no need to wait, you can do this now if you fancy. eadian is released through a combination of inherent peer: nobility and through peer: people involved in a massive loving business proposal with some guy that our idiot redneck bodyguards just kidnapped. signal booster is a plot contrivance to keep this scene limping along, you can't have one. eadian has been led somewhere. if you want to find out anything specific - no, you can't meet Cizneros yet - you've been led somewhere that helps with that. otherwise you've been led somewhere that i'll dictate, and then you'll be spat out to rejoin the rest of the party aperta gets his tech on. all rolls are against Int 40 + 10 (trade armourer +10) + 10 (max help) = 60 before rarity mods (mods!); specific mods for max weapons, if there are any, will be int 40 + 10 (aperta help) + 20 (Rely On None But Yourself) = 70 before rarity mods
because of this ridiculous number of successes, have a free weapon upgrade of Scarce or commoner - except Backpack Ammo Supply you powergamer - against any party weapon of your choice. bulworth is extremely bad at roling dise. he manages a masterful 88 on his easy, easy stealth roll, fatepointing it to a much more reasonable 80 on his second time round. i decide to give a free Intimidate check, which goes about as badly as it possibly can. last ditch attempt, i let you try and stun him - Surprise, Outnumbered, Unarmed opponent, and you still only just succeed. you can roll back as much of this as you like, i've just fast-forwarded this a bit to get the comedy of errors out of the way. you're gonna take a little subtlety hit for the failed Stealth tests, but no penalty - narrative or crunch - for letting the intimidate and Stun rolls stand because they weren't your decisions. if you got other ideas to deal with the landlord, i'm all ears. scrutiny of the place finds little of interest; you can dig up bar tabs with no rolls, though, that's fine. gamma is just as bad at roling dise. i mean this is pretty embarrassing. psy perception test on bartender and psyniscience on bar in general gives real bad rolls as well (i typoed psynisicence for that first roll); failure (no problems) on barman, minimal info on bar goings-on. i assume there will be offscreen investigations that will confirm this. also cizneros made that spooky tower. whether this is important or not remains to be seen!! it's in Hepaticon turf. you ain't investigating it before your meeting with her; they will probably be mildly hostile to you as you're sort of subtly aligned with the Deculons
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Aug 31, 2016 23:02
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Aperta Ignavus Port Remonstrance The Warehouse - Testing, Testing, 1-2-3 Aperta very careful places a fifth and final bottle neatly on the sawhorse and backs away to his workbench. On the table Cogitatio lays motionless on it's side, surrounded by piles of circuitry-wafers, dataum-chips, and soldering wire, while a long cable connects from the servitor's info-port to a cogitator nearby. Aperta's timing is impeccable as the cogitator beeps softly to indicate Cogitatio's new programming routines have been compiled and installed successfully. It is time to test them out. Removing the data-cable and replacing the skull's outer shell casing, Aperta reactivates his familiar and the steps back. Slowly it's grav-plates warm up and the skull drifts lazily in the air, drifting slightly as it's powerful micro-batteries feed more and more power into it's internal systems. With a small shake from side to side Cogitatio fully awakens, and chirps a greeting to it's master in binary. Excellent. Aperta grabs a dataslate to take notes and moves to the center of the warehouse. "The is Magos-Errant Aperta Ignavus, conducting test of newly installed weapon components. Activating targeting routine Alpha-Primus, assuming direct control of servitor," He announces to nobody in particular. His vision blurs as his brain ceases interpreting the visual information from his own eyes and switches to processing the information streaming from Cogitatio's optical cameras and auspex. As he focuses his familiar on the leftmost bottle, Cogitatio's mouth clacks open, and a silvery magnetic rail extends from within while the modified plasma canister and glowing coolant coils drop down to hang underneath the skull. The skull's left eye glows with a pinprick of angry red light that shines on the bottle at the other end of the warehouse. "Power output at five-point-five-oh percent of optimal operational parameters. Target acquired. Firing now." The priest narrates in monotone. A tiny ball of shining blue light shoots from the pinprick hole on the magnetic rail and streaks through the air, splashing against the center of the bottle which explodes in a shower of molten glass. The weapon fires three more times, taking several seconds each time to properly line up the shots, and each in turn destroys another helpless empty bottle of rotgut booze. "All systems functioning as predicted. Increasing energy output to one-oh-oh percent to ensure systems work at expected combat tolerances. Target acquired. Firing." This time a much larger, fist-sized ball of plasma fires from the rail. Like the smaller test-firings before it hits true, but this time the far greater energies explode not only the bottle but the sawhorse it rests upon, completely turning the glass into a cloud of vaporized gases and blasting the sawhorse into a pile of burning splinters. Aperta mutters Martian swears to himself as he stamps out the flames before they can catch, while Cogitatio spins happily in the air, quite proud of itself. ___________________ Aperta is ready to gently caress some poo poo up, and now has an in-universe reason to be trained in plasma weaponry. For the free extra mod I applied a red-dot sight to the plasma gun. Aperta is now free to help anyone who needs it when everyone reconvenes at the warehouse.
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Sep 1, 2016 18:24
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'Gamma' There was probably a stern lesson in all of this regarding hubris and the fallibility of mortals, but Gamma was a poor student of religion at the best of times. Recording the location of the tower for later review and taking notes on the scene to help jog her memory should it be necessary round out her trip to the new establishment. "..." An uneasy silence as she stares at the newly quiescent interloper. Is he unconscious or just pretending? Either way, training dictates caution. No names, nothing to identify them any further. "Field interrogation, back to base, cut him loose or kill him here? Your discretion." Bullworth will have to manhandle the prisoner if they move him, it's only fair to let him decide. Of course, Gamma is a trained interrogator and mind-reader, but there is no guarantee of subtlety in the process should they proceed with even a brief interview session using the available materials. I presume that we could arrange to have the boat come and pick us up, or take a taxi, but neither option is mega subtle. Probably better than torturing him here in the bar though.
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Sep 5, 2016 11:10
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[quote="AcidRonin" post="463630306"] Eadian Valarius Inland Noble Quarters Port Remonstrance Your bloody well right you are, this is WHOLLY ridiculous. I trust whoever made this decision will be properly disciplined. I am a man of high birth and a servant of Our Lords Holy Navy! Now, get me a stiff drink and I will be much happier! Eadian is led to a Drawing room with several members of the Ducelon estate, they are smoking and several of them have been imbibing fine amasec, which Eadian is promptly handed a few fingers. He chats with the family learning more about their history and the their rise to power, as well as the local political struggles. He takes specific note when they begin to discuss their business dealings and some of the plans they have for the future. As he allowed his former captors, now "friends" to get a bit deeper into the amasec, he prods a few into speaking about drama in the family, specifically things they might not want a disciple of the holy ordos to be aware of..... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- So i'm thinking local peer nobility for the general information, ans a mix of Inquiry, Interrogation, Deceive, and Awareness for my blackmail-ish stuff. AcidRonin fucked around with this message at 01:29 on Sep 8, 2016 |
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Sep 7, 2016 23:01
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Barry "The Bull" Bulworth https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XckMMxZ3aIk What an unbelievable mess. After the cavalcade of errors that preceded it, I wasn't going to take any chances. The landlord almost certainly didn't know anything that we already knew. He had seen our faces but he is also innocent in the eyes of the law. I didn't want to execute someone for the misfortune of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, and he was probably more use to us alive. While he was knocked out, I had dragged his haggard body onto a chair in the back office. He sits there now; hands in manacles behind his back, mouth in a gag, and a empty burlap bag of freeze dried recaf over his head. I had gone through his wallet and found identification papers. Mr. Pontius Regalius - or so the ID claims him to be to be - apparently also owns a tenament building in White Squall District. Not exactly a nobleman, but he's not living hand to mouth either. Regardless, he doesn't seem like the sort to be a latent witch, so he's outside of the scope of the investigation. Just have to decide what to do with him. The bucket of water at my feet was half full and ice cold. All it took was a quick pour over his head to shock him awake. His groans quickly turn to muffled yelling as he realized his predicament. I give a light slap across his bagged face to quiet him up so that I can speak. "You got a problem, Mr. Regalius. Your barkeep is dead as is most of your clientelle. Most of 'em decided to go pick a fight over at The Rookery and lost. Your barkeep didn't seem to make it that far." I pace around the chair loudly and slowly as I continue, "Now I know for you it would be easy to blame us for what happened to him, but take a look at him, What ever killed him cooked his brain in his skull. It's not me because I'm a bit more old fashioned than that." I say, racking the slide of my stub auto for effect, judging by how he stiffened up, he knew what the sound was."Your problem isn't with them however, your problem is with us. You see, me and my companion here represent certain interests that would see justice done, but we work off the books. We find that red tape that comes with that lifestyle to be a bit too restricting. We can't have you telling the authorities about us." I say as I thumb the hammer back on the pistol and press the barrel into the fat of his neck for a moment to hear a muffled yelp before pulling back. "But I like you Pontius, you have some spunk. I'm going to give you a chance to not be a high grade fuckup." I sit down in a chair directly across from him. "I'm keeping your identification, it's mine now. Thanks for the gift." I lean back and take a moment to light a Lho stick before continuing. "I'm offering you your life here; in exchange I want the following from you. I will un-shackle you and me and my companion will walk out that door. You will sit here and count to 90 before removing your bag and your gag. After that, you are going to contact the authorities and tell them about your dead bartender. You will not mention myself, my companion, or this conversation that happened here. If you tip them off to any of us I will know Pontius, and I will not be happy. I'm not someone you want unhappy, Pontius. I have what you would call a temper problem, and I hold a grudge for a long, long time Pontius. Don't make me come and pay a special visit to you again or I will not be so kind. Are we understood?" I wait for the bag to shake in acknowledgement before I pull out the shackle keys. "Make sure to change your shirt, you're kind of a mess." --- Outside the bar and back in the streets, myself and Gamma join back in the throng of people on the sidewalks and I deliberately slow my pace to blend in. I turn to Gamma a minute or two later and say "I need to make a stop by a scrapyard before we head back. I need to do some shopping." --- Going to release the owner since he almost certainly won't know anything particularly relevant. Intimidating him to keep him quiet about what he seen. I'm going to guess this intimidate is going to be rolled vs my int since I'm not being physically imposing and more of an existential threat. My Arbites background allows me a free reroll for intimidate and I can substitute my willpower bonus (3) for degrees of success. I'm going to guess Gamma can throw an assist for this plus whatever bonus you want to assign for the circumstance of him being bagged and tied to a chair with the threat of me coming back should he gently caress up and tell anyone about us. I'm going to make my acquisitions at a shady underhanded scrapyard if I can find it. I figure since we got myself and the cogboy and Max we can fluff it up to say that if I find a sufficiently useful muffler or some sort I should be able to fashion up a makeshift silencer for my pistols and potentially find one that deals in shady grey market guns to find myself a sawed off shotgun pistol. DeathSandwich fucked around with this message at 17:18 on Sep 8, 2016 |
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Sep 8, 2016 17:13
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Ignatius Malbau The Warehouse Port Remonstrance Ignatius makes himself useful, back at the warehouse. There are samples to analyze, new equipment to fiddle with, he can assist others, and if there's time, he steps out for a bit to find someone who can install a concealed holster for his new gun into his fancy armor cloak. When the rest of the team eventually arrives, Ignatius urges them to help follow up on the mysterious murders investigation. He can't shake the hunch that they're connected to the rest of the weirdness... and even if they aren't, solving the mystery for Iseppo helps to cement that man's faith in their ruse.
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Sep 9, 2016 17:09
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Aperta Ignavus Port Remonstrance The Gilded Thorn - Returning to the Scene of the Crime It's still dark out, several hours before dawn, when Aperta leaves the safety of the warehouse. The others are still resting or tending to their own devices, but the tech-priest has less need for rest thanks to the blessings of his God, and he has much to do besides. The first and foremost to ensure the Cell draws as little attention as possible to themselves. And for that Aperta needs to return to the Gilded Thorn, which by his estimation should be relatively safe to return to. He takes the time to remove any and all ostentatious and easily recognizable iconography from The Pelecanus, leaving it nearly indistinguishable from any of the other millions of transports on the planet. Shortly after he casts off and begins the short trek back to where he was only a few hours prior. It's not long before he can see the gambling den, and the telltale flashing lights of the planet's peacekeeping forces. Aperta deftly guides his vessel into an empty portion of the dock that hasn't burned away, but there isn't much room. As he walks off the boat into the dock he can already see an arbitor in full riot gear approaching. "Halt! This is a restricted area, you will leave immediately or so help me I will lock you up so fast you'll... er..." The arbitor, a woman if Aperta could judge by her voice, trails off as she looks over Aperta's robes and obvious augmetics and realizes who she's talking to. The priest sees his chance and takes it. "I have been sent to collect and compile the surveillance data from the building's security networks." Aperta commands with as much authority as he can, "My time is precious and will not be wasted. You may either take me to the building's surveillance center or you may leave me be, but choose quickly." The arbitor snaps to attention and stumbles out an apology before asking Aperta to follow her inside. With his obvious status as a Tech-Priest and the escort of an arbitor nobody pays him any mind as he's led inside. Seeing the inside again, this time fully illuminated with multiple floodlumens Aperta gets an true sense of the carnage that has been inflicted here, hardly anything is left untouched by blood, fire, or both, and bodies litter the floor, some covered by plastic sheets and others left as they are. Moving upstairs, Aperta's escort leads him to a door flanked by two more arbites. After a short conversation they step aside and allow Aperta access to the security room's interior. "I need privacy and quiet to perform the rites of extraction. I'll call for you when I have completed and am ready to depart." He says dismissively as he takes a seat at the primary cogitator. It doesn't take long for Aperta to isolate any footage that includes any of the Acolytes. If he had the better part of several days he might be able to edit the footage to make it seamlessly appear as if they had never been there, but the best he can do for now is simply delete it, but not before uploading complete and intact copies to Cogitatio's internal memory stores. It likely isn't necessary, but it's Aperta's duty to be thorough. His cyber-subterfuge completed, he uploads the remaining recordings to a portable info-store and calls for his escort. He hands the info-store to her and gives a terse explanation about how the fire and fire-suppressant systems had caused considerable corruption to the building's cogitators. Soon after he is led back to The Pelecanus and thanked for his time aiding the department. Moments later he guides the ferry from the dock and makes his way back to the safehouse. There was yet more work to be done there. _________________ I'm going to make a Tech-Use test to find and delete anything the building's security systems have that shows any of the acolytes were present during the night.
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Sep 12, 2016 02:14
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Perfectionism, cont. Blood of the Sea Grape Port Remonstrance https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MXctj9_1sBY Pontius nods his bag vigorously, pathetically. Even if he'd gotten a clear look at his assailants, he'd have little reason to turn them in at the best of times, preferring to either scare or wound and to avoid dealing with local law enforcement unless strictly necessary. Now that it's apparent this is no mere breaking and entry, and that he's on the boundary of something that sounds pretty unpleasant - cooked brains!? - the fight drains out of him. He might be paying a bit more in the monthly protection rake for a while, but it's probably time to get the filth involved - and the last thing he wants is to appear interesting to them. If he gets out of this minus just the contents of his wallet, that's a pretty decent outcome. It takes him a little while to count to ninety, and by the time he manages, Bulworth and Gamma are long gone. --- Galvanism White Squall Port Remonstrance  White Squall's over by the main maintenance dockyards on the other side of the main island - contrasting with the outfitting yards near the cell's warehouse base, the Squall drydocks allow for complete refurbishment of the great dredgers that ply their circuits around the globe. Of course, it's rare that such an overhaul ever takes place - so stretched are the mechanical resources of Remonstrance that to tie up so many workers and specialists for so long would need an awful lot of clout. Patch-jobs might not be exactly as per Mechanicus doctrine, but that's all the dredgers tend to get, on and on down the centuries. Luridly painted polycarb sheeting and claybrick paving indicate that it's a little wealthier than the Rookery, but it's still cramped, squalid, and reeking of seaweed and city life. It is, however, exactly the sort of area that Bulworth would expect to find some less-than-standard weapon modifications - the local underworld probably runs less towards vice and protection rackets, more to smuggling and illicit industry. Less desperation, more organisation - and if there's one thing organised crime likes, it's stability. Mind you, the other thing it likes is disruption. On a planet with so little metal, there's not really anything that could be interpreted as a scrapyard per se - anything like the vast industrial boneyards of Desoleum or the rustheaps of Necromunda would be swarmed over and greedily devoured by Ourybians. Instead, the closest equivalent is probably analogous to a feudal world blacksmith's shop - a small artisanal type shop, with minature arc-furnace smeltery and some rudimentary machining tools, that allows scrap metal to be re-purposed into something useful. Electrolysis vats - grotesquely inefficient in terms of energy consumption, and there's no way they'd be present on a more industrialised world - allow the reclamation of otherwise useless rusty and corroded stock, and normally consume the output of several clanking krill-oil-fuelled generators. Generators that, in this particular shop, several streets down from Pontius' tenement building, currently stand dormant. A stocky, red-headed ratling stands in front of them, scratching her head, wiping oily hands on olive-green fatigues, and despairing. If she has to seek Mechanicus intervention for this, it could be weeks before the electrovats are up and running again, and that's a huge chunk of potential profit she can't afford to lose. Professional help is in major demand around these dockyards. Thankfully, amateur is almost as good - by virtue of his upbringing, Bulworth's forgotten more about these generators than most non-Mechanicus ever know, and, while Gamma pokes around the place inquisitively, it's the work of a few moments to jimmy off the casing, re-seat the breakers, scratch off the corroded contact elements with his combat knife, and swap out the ailing starter motor for a similar model the ratling's got hanging around the workshop. Beaming, the abhuman turns to Bulworth. "Dunno where you came from, mate" - kehm from, mehayte - "but you really saved me arse there. What brings you to m'humble shop?" --- Occultism Gilded Thorn Port Remonstrance  Aperta's escorted around the Thorn by what turns out to be the servant of two fairly young - at least, they sound like it, beneath the masks - carapace-armoured individuals. In other lives they might have made it through the Schola Progenia that give rise to storm troopers and commissars, or they might have been the eventual veterans of a dozen bloody battles in a guard regiment many light years from Ourybia. They might have been picked up as acolytes for a passing Inquisitor. Instead, by chance and circumstance, they have been hand-picked for service in the Ourybian Arbite corps - as servants of Imperial justice, not simply planetary concerns. From time to time, they fall in with Aperta on his peregrinations around the building, hunting down network fragments from different locations. It's partly due to the inbuilt Ourybian deference to the Machine cult that warrants such a prestigious escort; it's also partly because Aperta's sometime-companions are busy chattering into their commbeads at speed, coordinating investigations and local operations with an almost effortless expertise while simultaneously being able to handle any questions, observations or discoveries fed to them by underlings. They could do this from anywhere - they escort the Magos as a courtesy, and as a precaution, the emblem of Remonstrance's local Arbite - Bachmeyer - displayed beneath the aquilae on their chests. Aperta is able to achieve his goal of sequestering any footage of the acolytes fairly easily. He doesn't have the time or capability to make the splices less obvious, but is able to convincingly fake data corruption around the edges of the missing footage sections. Coupled with the fact that the cell managed to stay out of camera range where possible, whether by chance or natural inclination, he's able to successfully occlude their presence at the Thorn the previous night. --- Bossism Inland Noble Quarters Port Remonstrance  "No, please, do let me help you to another... Hesperus! Hesperus!!" Eadian's being wined and dined by concerned, conciliatory Deculons. It's a reasonably pleasant way to spend a few hours, all told, were it not for the fact that he'd spent the morning being menaced and imprisoned. Still, they're trying their best, and provided he can keep his considerable annoyance under wraps, the very act of appearing forgiving will doubtless raise his status among the Deculons. Eadian's unsure as to how the old Ourybian "altruism as status" thing got embedded in their culture, but he has to admit, it has its uses. Enormous marine trophies gawp down on the smoky tables as liveried servants dispense provender from ingenious, charming mechanisms. An amasec-dispensing servitor delicately picks its way around the room - it's far more machine than man, this one, and its routines allow for grace far beyond the normal stamping, leaking Lathe-pattern workhorses. It is either a monument to Deculon success or an appalling display of conspicuous consumption on a world barren of metal and metallurgy. It's fairly simple to steer the conversation round to current affairs. Unfortunately, there's not a huge amount of interest revealed - Eadian's unable to elicit much from his hosts, because they're still so tense about the whole abduction issue. This close to the arrival of the Black Fleet, most of the status jockeying has already been done - positions assigned, buildings built - and the only real rivalry between major dynasties relates to ceremonial offices relating to the representatives of the Fleet. Ceremonial, because the Fleet members don't tend to make nice very often. They show up, they get their tithe, they leave, and everyone breathes a huge sigh of relief. He's fairly certain that the group before him have heard about the massacre the previous night - there's glimpses of red-rimmed eyes and more sniffs than usual from some of the more emotional members of the coterie, and it's impossible to imagine that none of them have lost friends, companions, or close relations - but, somewhat surprisingly, there's no real rancour detectable against the Hepaticons outside of the usual peevishness. It's a little baffling until Eadian figures out that the magnanimous thing would be to forgive the assault. It takes the Strategos a while, because it's so at odds with normal Imperial thinking. It's chillingly cold-blooded, in a way - among exalted circles, the Deculons stand to gain status as a result of last night. --- Escapism Warehouse Base Port Remonstrance  Light filters through the dusty skylight, down on the temporary field-expedient laboratory set up in the upstairs office of the warehouse, glinting off baroquely convoluted test tubes half-filled with worrying precipitate. Ignatius is concerned. Very concerned. He didn't manage to get much further with the samples gleaned from the murder victims at the Remonstrance morgue, but did find fairly obvious signs of Spook addiction in the bartender's bloodstream and nervous tissue. Spook's a proscribed drug that, in short, binds the user closer to the flow of the Warp. It is rarely used recreationally due to the potential for terrifying visions and the near-certainty of eventual insanity, but a certain, elect few seem to adore the greater sense of connection that it provides - as well as the limited, temporary psychic abilities that it grants a sufficiently focused user. Judging from the rate of metabolisation and the presumed time of death, the unfortunate bartender was either habitually walking around with enough Spook in his blood to summon daemons with every sneeze, or he was actually tripping at the time the presumed Warp pulse consumed the occupants of the Blood of the Sea Grape. The ramifications are two-fold. Firstly, psychic ability - no matter how weak or uncontrolled - appears to interfere quite easily with whatever the hell it was that wiped out the Hepaticon party. Perhaps a forewarned, trained mind could resist such a pulse - although clearly, the results of failing to do so are fairly drastic. Secondly, and assuming that the pulse was a deliberate, repeatable event - it would appear that someone or something has devised a way to either remotely annihilate, or to isolate, latent psykers within a population. --- bulworth once more fails to intimidate on the first try, but scrapes by on the second, bumping it immediately up to 3DoS thanks to the power of ARBITE. landlord is suitably cowed thanks to the speech then he goes shopping - common lore: underworld + modifiers to find a decent contact, and bam, decent success. this means that you've found someone, and they're well-disposed to you - had you failed, you'd still find someone, they'd just be a bit more of a dick/traitor. req rolls for silencer and shotgun pistol are successful - silencer comes as attached due to surplus DoS, and can now be screwed on and taken off at will. new contact gives +10 to underworldy-stuff apart from drugs, +20 to non-industrial quantities of industrial metals. i dunno, you might find some use for this. she's looking to give you reciprocal kindness thanks to the big ol' gift you just slapped in her palm re: fixing the generators, hence the bonuses. she's not a particularly big-fish contact in and of herself aperta doesn't do so great with the tech-use roll, scoring only 59 vs a TN of 40 (int) + 10 (skull) + 10 (skill training) = 60. amusingly, due to the new DoS rules in DH2, this translates to 2DoS, so that's 2 more subtlety for the pot. "arbites" can be used interchangeably on Ourybia for actual genuine Arbitrators, of which there may be only a few per planet and who have the power to get their Judge Dredd on to literally anyone outside of rogue traders and Inquisitors, and their staff, and their staff's staff. in this case, there are a few capital-A arbites on the planet (mostly one per major population centre), a small cell of competent staff (equivalent to Acolytes of an inquisitor), and a bigger support staff of, like, normies reeeeee. a big teeming hive planet might have dozens or hundreds of A-arbites, operating as a massively elite cadre and as their own support; an agri-world might have a handful, with some talented staff; a frontier world might have one, with the occasional radio contact. in any case, this is an arbite-led investigation into the assault. they are likely to be competent and motivated, and, while they may be pretty great at investigation and at killing, if they beat you to the punch on things they will likely not leave much for you to investigate eadian gets an influence point as the default "i have no idea what you are trying to achieve" standpoint; he rolls scrutiny, charm for info-gathering and super-succeeds and super-fails in order. he doesn't notice the house of suns reference. ignatius rolls for checking murder victims and checking bartender samples - failure, success in order.
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Sep 12, 2016 21:39
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Sciolism Inland Noble Quarters Port Remonstrance https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7WMrQe87gRk  It is the morning of the fourth day following the attack on the Gilded Thorn. Particularly dedicated students of scholastic history may have come across the idea of a "free press" in passing - shortly before their probable execution for possession of forbidden knowledge - but on Ourybia, there's no place for such an archaic and dangerous institution. Unless the government of the Remonstrance archipelago makes some form of official proclamation, the population at large have no real source for what went on, or even that anything occurred - short of the usual rumour mill of I-know-a-guy-who-knows-a-guy. There's talk of bodies, and fighting in the street; but there's always bodies, and there's always scuffles, and if a few snooty pieces of poo poo get their teeth knocked in then who the gently caress cares, knowwhaddImean? For most citizens of the port, preparation for the arrival of the Black Fleet continues as usual - a drudge of overtime, cursing at the heat; local chapel services with even more of a "burn and/or inform on the witch" bent than usual; and fevered anticipation of the carnival surrounding the fleet's emergence from the Empyrean, where normal work is traditionally suspended. For the bulk of the working population of Ourybia, the Navalia is the only time they'll ever string more than two days of leisure together in a row. Things are a bit more focused at the inland Deculon estate. Millenia-spanning dynasties don’t get to blow off work for a week, and feverish planning continues in the administrative wings of the palatial complex that Eadian was so recently an unwilling guest of. There’s a whole load of firefighting going on today as the Acolyte cell is guided through the ground floor offices, a nest of logistics adepts collaboratively navigating Munitorum regulations in an attempt to figure out where the hell a load of necessary construction supplies have gotten to. Just another day in paradise. The Acolytes are present, as decided a few days ago, to discuss preparations and arrangements for the impending naval academy. The Deculon adepts have been working frenziedly to draw up plans and viable options for this, and the family as a whole would probably be somewhat on the upset side to discover that the cell has no intention of following through with the contract, nor authority to agree to one. Some discretion will probably be needed; an angry dynasty is bad enough, but should the Deculons detect that they're being manipulated by the Inquisition, they'd probably be less than enthusiastic to help the Ordo in future. For an Acolyte, it would be wiser to infuriate a noble house than it would be to mildly inconvenience one's Inquisitor. It's a glorious day, and Iseppo and board members await the cell in the southern wing of the gardens - the oppressive mugginess of the port proper doesn't seem to reach this far inland; or maybe it's just localised and wildly ostentatious aeroconditioning that keeps things balmy. The day's set to be a rather full one - the agenda involves rather a lot of gladhanding of the Acolytes, demonstrations of wealth, taste and nobility, and, oh yes, a few trifles to iron out the details on over an extended lunch, nothing to worry about at all. In other words, the Acolytes will need to keep their wits about them to avoid being strongarmed into commitments they will not be able to keep. Essentially, in the tradition of all sales events throughout history, the Acolytes have been invited along to what amounts to a formal networking party, which will, with agonising slowness, gradually transmute into an opportunity to actually get things decided. There is a sudden, startling ker-lunk as a concealed mechanism in the shrubbery launches a spinning disc in a high arc above the party's heads. The whipcrack of a lasblast follows, along with a smatter of polite applause as it becomes apparent that the shooter managed a direct hit. He hands the ornately-inscribed laslock to a waiting attendant and allows the next shooter to step forward. Off to one side, under a delicately embroidered awning, a small group of senior technical staff puzzle over various potential sites for the proposed academy complex; security specialists debate the potential ramifications to the Port's underworld and attempt to formulate contingency plans for possible threats. Several servants attempt to coax a small and - presumably - hideously expensive offworld creature down from an immaculately manicured tree as an older noble looks on in evident distress, as a few more sour-faced Deculons scowl at a dataslate containing the local PDF-supplied datafeeds about current astro-navigational conditions. A handful of younger hangers-on appear to have set up Regicide sets and, pausing to leaf through and debate legal documentation, play with a practised fluency. The buffet table, heaped high with glistening opulence, attracts a steady stream of attention; the bar, darkened wood and incongruously posed on the perfectly cropped lawn, appears to cater to a more static population. It's only mid-morning, but in fairness, going by the dishevelled, ink-stained and red-eyed looks of some of the clientele, it probably counts as an extremely late nightcap rather than an early start.  Various other diversions await the jaded, but perhaps of more immediate interest is the fact that as the cell enters the extravagantly sumptuous marquee at the centre of the garden, and as Iseppo turns to greet the Acolytes, a particular visage can be seen on the large cogitator-screen that now stands behind him. Technomats scurry and tend to cables as, on-screen, the woman raises a characteristic red cybernetic hand to brush back equally red, scraggly hair from a pale and lined face, revealing the jutting metal and inlaid brass curlicues of cybernetic implants around her forehead and temples. The cell realise that Iseppo's currently in communication with Adept Cizneros, the target of their extraction. "Iseppo, you- oh. Hello. Yes? What can I do for you? Hello.", in a reedy voice. She seems impatient. ---- so maybe the big "psychic incursion" thing is being kept under wraps by an overworked and inflexible controlling nobility, with eventual disastrous results. or, alternatively, maybe the population are being saved from themselves by distasteful restriction of information by a stable government that has their best interests at heart. or maybe both! or neither. you're at Deculon HQ, Population You. you guys are in relatively formal settings, pretending to be imperial navy reps. how fuckin' thrilling. you can break decorum - e.g. get caught in Iseppo's study, get caught with your multikey jammed into a safe - twice (subtlety bonus divided by two rounded up) before attention starts getting paid more closely to you, and they start suspecting you aren't what you seem. you basically break decorum by either loving up massively, or by trying to get something (info, loot) and failing. extra breach allowances will be made for particularly well-role-played or successful skill tests. pick a thing to do in order to maintain your chosen cover - e.g. chill out on the firing range chatting to bodyguards, schmooze dudes over amasec at like 10am in the morning, rattle off tales of shipboard gossip, do whatever - and also interact with cizneros via viewscreen. you wanna do other stuff like the aforementioned study or safe, be my guest, but please try to give me some indication of why you're actually doing stuff if it's not immediately apparent. if you want to follow up on other investigations (murders, Thorn), now's a chance to pump for information. doesn't have to be from Iseppo; can be from a convenient Deculon NPC. you have a couple of minutes to convince Cizneros she wants to see you, and to ask her stuff. failing to persuade cizneros to meet up and chat will, if still desired, require breaching decorum to force the issue. if not desired, well, what's the point of being here? aperta: judging from what you can see ringing her skull, Cizneros appears to have high-grade - military grade - cognitive implants. these would be rare on a forge world; having them on Ourybia is just bizarre. she is probably used to being the most intelligent person in the room, which will have had commensurate impact on her personality - in fairness, it's hard to conceive of a room where this wouldn't be the case.
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Sep 16, 2016 16:56
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Barry "The Bull" Bulworth Galvanism The shop's proprietor was a small lass by the name of Maggie. After I fixed her problem with the galvanizer, Maggie asked what I needed with the hardware. Told her I was shoring up the home defense. She seen right through me and to my benefit and she didn't care. Probably dealt with scummier sorts than myself on a daily business, I just happened to be useful on a bad day, which is always a good way to catch a favor from someone who wouldn't give you the time of day otherwise. She even helped thread the barrel on my stub auto, though for less altruistic reasons than you might assume; all metal is useful in these sorts of shops, even filings and scrapings, they would be added to a collection of scrap to reconstitute back into something worthwhile to society. I didn't know if she was a fence or not, and I know well enough not to ask. Being too out and friendly about someone's illicit activities is a good way to get blacklisted, makes you seem like a loudmouth. Regardless, I make a mental note to come back here next time I need to do some illicit shopping, or make something illicitly gained disappear. ---- Port Remonstrance https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O-PMYXaIzek By the time we had gotten to the Deculons not a lot had happened since the first day, exchanging the information each of us acquired didn't take long, but the brainstorming and studying the samples Ignatius acquired took some time. The bartender being on spook was an interesting turn of events. I had heard about the stuff back home in my previous life, but never seen or dealt with anyone on the stuff. I desperately hope I never have to, if Gamma is to be believed the stuff frazzles your soul, brings out the demons in you and not just the proverbial kind. I hoped that I never have to deal with it in the future, but fate has a funny way of making GBS threads on your hopes when you're trying to keep things simple. Needless to say, I wasn't real happy about Thunder and Lightning black bagging Eadian. If they could readily find and bag one of us it would be easy enough to find out our secrets should the press hard enough in the right spots. Those two were skilled, willful, and built like wrecking balls. If they go out of control again they may need to be put down before they risk the operation. My newfound 'home defense' gun was tucked away neatly in my coat and loaded with the amputators we got from the bar last time we were in the Deculon's presence. I will be noticeably armed for the party, but for many of the noble families this was to be expected. Considering how the last time we met Iseppo went, I'm sure he wouldn't begrudge the situation. I am the bodyguard, after all... Being that as it may, we all have roles to play in the charade, even myself, even Iseppo, even Thunder and Lightning. I stay near Eadian and Ignatius, taking care to mean mug while I try to appraise the Deculon security situation... --- Was it ever confirmed that the Bartender was part of the raving psychotic mob or just a victim thereof? Regardless going to Scrutiny/Awareness to see what sort of security they are keeping outside of the GENERIC LARGE BURLY MEN stationed around. Looking for cameras, conspicuous partygoers with earpieces and concealer holsters, that sort of thing. Aside from that, I'm staying near my bodyguard-ees, and I'll try to throw assists for social rolls where possible/permitted, but Iseppo and Eadian are better suited to the talky friendly parts. Loading my new toy shotgun with two of the amputators in the interim before the party.
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Sep 19, 2016 21:15
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from context, and the fact that there were literally no wounds on the body, you can probably be sure that the bartender just sort of died when the pulse hit, rather than being swept along or beaten to death by the mob
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Sep 19, 2016 21:24
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'Gamma' The luxury of these settings puts Gamma mildly on edge, like a stray dog being shown a soft bed and a bowl of food. What's the catch? When does the other shoe drop? She has no idea how to behave, even less than in the Gilded Thorn - at least there she could fake being an entertainer. She orbits near Ignatius, closely observing and to an extent mimicking the relative ease with which he glad-hands and schmoozes. That this is an opportunity to further assemble her dossier on him for is an added benefit. A great deal of quick work with data-slate and quill completes her disguise as some kind of flunky to the more important and impressive members of the 'Naval Delegation' Cover as some kind of clerk, also going for another PVP roll on Ignatius (I haven't forgotten) either Awareness or Scrutiny When the target appears it's an effort not to jump straight to accusations of involvement in whatever kind of malfeasance is occurring on Ourybia. Gamma contents herself with feeding information to the negotiating team via com-bead while making sure the team is not being too closely counter-surveilled. It seems improbable that these nobles have a house psyker, but they may have contracted with the local Adeptus Astra Telepathica if their guard is up. With one eye on the winds of the warp Gamma observes and reports.
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Sep 21, 2016 15:04
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Ignatius Malbau Deculon Manse Inland Noble Quarters Port Remonstrance Ignatius flows into the sprawling decadence of the Deculon estate with ease, as if he absolutely belongs there, which of course he does. Perhaps there are a few gentry scattered around who would remember him from the ill-fated party? If so, they would spot the same fellow they remembered from before: well-dressed, stark-looking and obviously offworlder, certain to always be sipping from a glass, genteel, faintly immodest, and unmistakably enjoying himself. That's the show, anyway. Ignatius is not enjoying himself. This event was another obstacle between the team's goal of meeting Cizneros in person, ideally alone and unmonitored, in order to ascertain her disposition towards their mission, and of course, ultimately obtain her person, whole and alive, one way or another. It was obvious as soon as they arrived that no such encounter was going to take place today. Iseppo was putting on another show, and not just for the "naval delegation"'s benefit. His last party had ended in disaster, and now he needed to re-establish his own position and prestige with an elaborate affair that, very importantly, did not get half the attendees killed. Additionally, the word was undoubtedly out - not widely, most likely, but to a number of key cousins, necessary nephews, and indispensable inlaws - that a big deal was going down, involving the Imperial Navy, and completely dependent on Eadian, Ignatius, and their cadre's disposition towards the Deculons. In other words, Ignatius knew he was on display, and many of the finely-dressed folk taking their leisure about the premises were sizing him up with the ruthlessly shrewd judgement of lifelong courtiers. There was not going to be a private meeting with an architect. So be it. Ignatius proffered up courteous bows, polite but firm handshakes, knowing nods, and the slightest air of "inscrutable voidborn" to all and sundry as Iseppo paraded them around the garden. Bullworth added to the effect nicely, being present at precisely the right distance to be noticed, a little intimidating, but not to the point of alarming. Eadian... was Eadian, more the actual-noble than Ignatius, and with the added air of a man who the Deculons owed, having been manhandled, and who knew it, and who was being really very polite about it, which just made it even clearer to these people that he knew that they knew that he knew that they owed him. And Gamma was tailing the little party, staring weirdly at him, which Ignatius tried to ignore as best he could. He shouldn't feel embarrassed at being perfectly at home among these wealthy, powerful elites... it was his job, wasn't it? The privilege and power of his own family had been wiped away in a day. He was a working man, now. If the mission called for expensive clothes and luxurious appointments and well-aged amasec, well, why should he feel guilty about it? Well. Ignatius could handle his well-aged amasec, which he was careful to take with ice, holding the tall thin glass in one hand and then the other, continuously warming it so as to melt the ice and dilute the booze as much as possible. When they wound up at the garden's central gazebo, suddenly confronted with Cizneros on a screen, not being excessively intoxicated made the critical difference between blurting out a profanity, and simply showing a little surprise. Not only not a private meeting, but not even in person. gently caress. "Adept Cizneros! Delightful to meet you at last," Ignatius bows, getting his disappointment quickly in check. "If I may say so, we're quite impressed with your work. Iseppo here is lucky to have you at his family's disposal... it is in no small part due to your evident competence that we have selected the Deculons as our primary partners in this little project. ... You are familiar with the project, yes? I think you may find this to be a unique challenge. The facility and grounds must meet exacting specifications, of course, but within those specifications, there is significant room for, ah... creativity." Ignatius continues, using whatever time is afforded to describe in broad outlines the need for a construction in an ideal location, which will greatly impress upon the locals the majesty, power, and prestige of the Imperial Navy, making use of design language now tens of thousands of years established - the Gothic arches, the encrustations of imperial eagles, the skull motifs designed to impress upon all who view it the sacrifice of brief, temporary, insignificant individual lives for the immeasurably more important protection of the Imperium, and so on. But within those parameters... well. Local sensibilities may have some influence. Nods to the oceanic character of the planet and its culture may be permitted, suggesting the focus on the Navy's interest in officers with surface wet-navy experience and skills? A waterfront location, with extensive docking facilities, wet and dry docks, well tied into the local infrastructure. Reasonable and prudent defensive emplacements... after all, this facility could last for thousands of years, and who knows what security requirements might become regrettably necessary in that time? Not to mention certain accommodations, of the expected levels of comfort, for the higher-ranking administrative staff, many of whom, by necessity, will be drawn from the local population, of course! With assistance from the others, Ignatius impresses upon Cizneros the sheer scope of the proposed project. She is in a unique position, indeed. This is no mere water pumping installation. There are many more details to be worked out. The party would like to see some initial concept sketches and design ideas soon. Perhaps a private meeting could be arranged? Somewhere with less distractions, perhaps? Time is short... perhaps in a week? Schmoozing to maintain cover, drinking lightly to maintain the persona Ignatius has presented to Iseppo and especially to the nobles around him, and then attempting to tempt Cizneros into wanting an in-person meeting for reasons that are entirely reasonable and not at all suspicious.
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Sep 21, 2016 20:45
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Aperta Ignavus Port Remonstrance Inland Noble Quarters With the memory of what happened at the last noble-filled social event he went too, Aperta is doing his best to be alert and cautious of another sudden attack. He tries to be discrete, but this amounts to merely staring intently through people as he studies the info-feed coming from Cogitatio's auspex scans the immediate area for anything out of the ordinary. Officially he is there as a representative of the Adeptus Mechanicus' role in the "project" that Master Malbau is going to discuss with Iseppo and Adept Cizneros. When he finally lays optics on the Adept the tech-priest momentarily forgets any concerns about safety as he spies the beautiful craftsmanship of her cranial implants, far superior to almost anything else he's ever seen outside of the High Magi of his Order. He explains this fact as quietly as he can into the cell's vox channel, relying on his breathing-grille and hood to hide the fact. "The Adept's implants are of extraordinary quality, far superior to anything even this planet's nobility should be able to lay hands on. I've seen it's pattern before, usually it is reserved for the likes of Lord Provisioners who oversee the Imperial Tithe for entire sectors, or master tacticians of the Astra Militarum. It greatly enhances the brains ability to take in and assimilate data, as well as boosting memory recall, pattern recognition, and logical extrapolation." _________________ If it wouldn't be overly obvious that I'm doing so, I'll make a Tech-Use check to see if there's anything out of the ordinary in the immediate area (50m). I'll also let every know about what was under my spoiler text.
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Sep 22, 2016 02:38
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Sciolism, cont. Inland Noble Quarters Port Remonstrance https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CO6NJ6PjMmY Treading luxuriantly manicured grass under their feet as they make their way to the centre of the garden, the Acolyte cell will prove to keep fairly close counsel during the next few hours of the negotiation-party, choosing to mostly placidly observe their surroundings rather than get stuck in with rubbing shoulders with the patricians around them. To do anything else would run the risk of making some faux pas that could out them as impostors - it's a safe, if not particularly rewarding, play. Gamma's contribution is to attempt to surreptitiously see what the psychic spoor of the manse holds. The group approach the central marquee as, pretending interest in some forms brandished by an over-eager clerk, she defocuses momentarily and - oh, that's not normal. She deflects the attentions of the accompanying Adept harrassing her with work order choices and gets another nearby peon to bring up the manses' map on her dataslate. Near the servants' quarters, there's a sort of psychic blind spot - from her prior experience with the Telepathica corps, that sort of ward is a standard Imperial countermeasure used for creating psyker-proof tithe cells. Presumably the Deculons have a tithe-standard holding facility right here in the seat of their power in Remonstrance - it sort of makes sense, because if there's one thing you want to concentrate security around, it's a host of wyrds. In any event, Gamma is unable to detect any more sensitive ripples in the Empyrean, given the distraction of the tithe cells. Aperta attempts to surreptitiously activate his augur array on his way into the tent, but practically coughs out oil once he notices the circuitry studding Cizneros' temples, and gets distracted at a vital moment during the boot up sequence. The augur-system's machine spirit suddenly isn't in the mood any more, jolting its gathered charge back into the techpriest's potentia coil with bad grace. It sparks momentarily, and he hisses out a silent expletive from his facial grille. He can attempt to activate the device again in a couple of minutes, but he's starting to garner polite attention from the surrounding nobility and it might prove tricky to do it discreetly. Still, other than the wired connection to Cizneros' office and the distant, hovering forms of camera servoskulls, he can't feel the background buzz of any particularly surprising technological systems nearby. Eadian, keeping his customary gravitas-filled silence, is greeted warmly by a limping Iseppo ahead of any other members of the group as they enter the marquee. Rising from his seat, the Deculon is quite open in his apologies for Eadian's erroneous abduction, and practically abases himself in front of the Strategos; Thunder and Lightning are considerably less contrite, rolling their eyes and smirking. An aide is waved forward and, with practised and rapid obsequiousness, a dark-wood case is presented to the group. Within lies a marvellously ornate bolt pistol - clearly dating back some millenia, there's every chance this item came down to Ourybia with the first wave of settlers. Iseppo elaborates. "Please. A token of our remorse, and our trust in our future partnership". Not quite so magnanimous a gesture as first appears, in fairness - it is a multi-faceted approach, acting as both an apology, a valuable gift, and a social signifier for the rest of the Deculons present in the tent. Interpreted through the lens of the usual Ourybian culture of altruism-as-status, Iseppo's basically swinging his dick around and emphasising his status as In Charge to the rest of those on his side of the negotiation - "look what I can afford to give away". This is, in effect, a reminder for all Deculons present that today, Iseppo's looking for team players - this becomes evident over the next couple of hours, as the Acolytes have to think fast to avoid being trapped in commitments they can't honour. Bulworth initially sticks close to Eadian and Ignatius, scoping out the perimeter and keeping an eye out for other less obvious security measures. His attention is mostly grabbed by Thunder and Lightning's poo poo-eating grins, however, and he finds it difficult to focus on matters at hand. There's probably about five liveried guards stationed around this garden, and up on the rooftop parapets he's definitely seen snipers patrolling. Plus, most of the Deculons present appear armed - lightly, but effectively. It's only a few of the more frail or invalid members of the group that wouldn't contribute in the event of an attack. It is Ignatius who actually decides to, well, communicate with the target of the cell's extraction. With the occasional bit of murmured assistance from Bulworth on the technical details (the Arbite has palmed a crib-sheet of specifications for just this eventuality), he is able to paint a wonderful picture of architectural splendour in a comparatively short space of time. That's the easy part. The hard part is keeping up with the flighty and worryingly incisive Cizneros, who will interrupt a conversational thrust with scarcely an intake of breath, or scatter a simple statement into a dozen glittering strands of uncertainty. She also keeps picking her teeth with the scribe-tines extending from her bionic hand, which is rather disconcerting. "The Segmentum already has forty-three aquamajority planets - many more heavily industrialised and more suited for - mph - this sort of..." "...surrounding concourse is no trouble no trouble at all but outlying superstructure and interior core will..." "...arrangements for temporary workers. Rafts, I suppose?" Iseppo smiles indulgently during this time, watching Cizneros display far more autonomy and strategic awareness than would be expected from a common-or-garden Adept. It becomes obvious after a few minutes that she's simply testing the "naval delegation" before her, and she soon breaks off the conversation after a rapid-fire sequence of questions covering everything from gargoyle placement to refuse-collection arrangements. For such a short conversation, it has certainly been exhausting for Ignatius, but he seems to have managed to rub the Adept up the right way, so Cizneros finishes things off in a somewhat bizarre fashion. At the mention of concept sketches she throws back her head with a hoot of laughter and waggles her tines at the cell. Having revved her cognitive abilities up to full-on professional savant mode, her tongue can't keep up with her racing thoughts and her speech patterns are suffering slightly. All but Aperta find it a little tricky to understand her. "Yes yes, come meet. Today, fine, no time like the present, fourth watch today. Can push back Administratum delegation, good excuse, yes, thank you. Hello. But ideas, talk design?" She hoots again, brushing back hair from her temples in a frantic motive tic. "No chance in timeframe desired, scope desired, with Ourybia materials? Ha! Haha! One option, only option, ship landing to use keel as superstructure core, and then you tell me you tell me who benefits from a Gellar field down at-" The screen winks off as a technomat, in response to furtive gesturing, yanks the power cable out. The rites of Fahs'ten Lho haven't been performed correctly, and there'll be hell to pay with the machine spirits later - better break out the good unguents - but Iseppo's face brooks no argument. The indulgent look has gone, replaced by a smooth mask of professionalism. "Gentlemen. And lady. The Adept, to my pleasant surprise, has made space in her schedule for you, leaving us only a few hours to attend to our other business. Let's make a start, shall we?" --- Organism Unknown Unknown Moisture trickles down the chamber walls. The servitors proceed with their instructions, turning wheels, activating switches and breakers in turn. Coruscating energy slowly fills the resonance chambers as the device thrums to life; the captives, as one, begin to shriek. --- acolytes vs deculons lol what a shower. bulworth just loves those 80's hits - with a roll of 87 for his scrutiny check, he gets basically zero useful info. shout if you want to fate point but i mean i don't know what you're gunning for here. are you looking to start a fight? this is an abject failure but it's sort of what you're supposed to be doing at the moment, so it doesn't break decorum. aperta gets an 86 re: using the auspex, failing to even turn the drat thing on. owned. owned!! no penalty, but if you try again you might need to either arrange a distraction (speech! speeeeech) or just bite the "breaking decorum" bullet. gamma does a psyniscience test to see if there's psykin' happening - she fails with 62, but rather than this being "welp you don't know!!" it's more "there's too much interference to detect anything discreet". there is a psyker holding facility here in the mansion, hurrah. maybe bear that in mind if you need psykers, for your daemon summoning ritual. in terms of pvp testing, she gets 2DoS vs ignatius' 1DoF, and thus gets +5 to her next roll eadian gets handed a GC bolt pistol as an apology. it has one clip, currently loaded. stats are as per the rulebook. you're tracking ammo for this and not auto-replenishing; additional clips are additional requisitions. remember the usual Ourybian thing of ostentatious altruism being a status signifier though; in Ourybian circles to an Ourybian recipient this could be considered somewhat patronising. you are, however, off-worlders, so the play here is a) demonstrating status to the ourybian crowd, and b) bribing you nakedly. ignatius gets silver-tongued. you guys have already learned that cizneros is a high-strung personality so i'm running this as a Decieve roll; easier, better bonus if you pass, and honestly the whole thing is kinda deceitful so it sort of fits. he gets 58 vs a TN of 40 (Fel) + 10 (Deceive vs HighStrung) + 10 (Bulworth Assist) + 20 (circumstance - roleplay) = 80, which is 4DoS (one for the pass + [8-5]). i may have mixed up DoS and DoF in previous posts, oh well. so that's 4 DoS, which is 4 x 5 = +20 to Cizneros' disposition. she's started pretty low, because she's busy and nervy, so you're going against a TN of 30 + 20 (Deceive) - 10 (Circumstance) = 40, and manage a... 4. welp, that was easy. guess you're meeting cisneros in a few hours. gellar fields are used for void vessels to keep the warp and other psychic phenomena from penetrating starships during warp transit. ships are expensive - it would be difficult to justify bringing one into atmosphere (read: snowball's chance in hell) without, say, a big interplanetary project to collaborate on as an excuse. gamma, eadian: iseppo is pissed off at cizneros, but he's not hugely annoyed that you're going to see her - he's pissed off at the fact that she's just blown off the administratum because she thinks you're more interesting. he finds the talk of gellar fields distressing but not particularly "oh poo poo they're onto me" you've got a couple hours in which to dick around and do other stuff if you want, after which you'll go see Cizneros Inexplicable Humblebrag fucked around with this message at 18:20 on Sep 25, 2016 |
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Sep 25, 2016 18:16
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'Gamma' If plausible deniability can be maintained Gamma would like to slip away and check out the tithe cell arrangements - make sure they're up to scratch given the complex nature of the evolving situation. Otherwise it's awkward small talk and canapes until go time.
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Sep 26, 2016 15:15
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Eadian Valarius Inland Noble Quarters Port Remonstrance Eadian is used to parties like this, but the sight of the two idiots from earlier puts him off a bit, what has them so happy? Well these things CAN happen, I suppose it's good you have such 'talented' men watching out for you. I'm sure they were only doing their job He takes the gift and examines it, Feigning a bit more impressiveness than he actually needs to in order to win points with the noble Ahhhhh a lovely gift, my thanks. Of course I also enjoyed being entertains at your estate the other night after the unpleasantness was concluded, Tell me how are you finding yourself today? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I'm suspicious of why T and L look so bloody smarmy, but i'm not sure if i have the stats to find out why, I small talk with Isseppo to distract him if i can a bit from the target talking to Ignatius. Local Peer Nobility I can get him to brag at me rather than noticing any distressing subjects?
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Sep 27, 2016 16:33
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