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Aboard the Dauntless-class cruiser known as The Fist of Terra, a man stands in silence in front of the bridge's massive window, his eyes closed and his head down; his hands are tucked into the small of his back, where a trickle of blood flows from his palm down over his whitened knuckles. His face is strained, and the air around him shimmers faintly and the taste of metal assaults the tongue. Before him is the planet of Caro V, one of the few planets still considered pure and holy within the sector. On the bridge around him are viewscreens showing the burning husks of planets, since struck by the Inquisition's exterminatus artillery; millions upon of millions of souls have been lost, hopefully before the taint of chaos had reached them. He had done so much to protect the sector. He had once been one of the best, but this sorcerer.. he had always been a step ahead of him. Cornelius opens his eyes with a gasp, his skin pale and his eyes bloodshot. He places his hands on the railing in front of him, sweat rolling down his face as he tries to catch his breath. He tried to blink the vision away, but every time he opened his eyes, he saw it over and over. The crust of Caro V bursting upwards as horrible creatures crawled from its molten core, and the planet becoming wreathed in flame, all while his quarry laughed and laughed. The Inqusiitor shakily steps away from the window, looking in horror at the screens around him. Behind him, his interrogator cautiously moves forward. "Sir?" "Xavier. He intends to strike again. But we have him now, my old friend.. he has nowhere else to strike now." Dukovich turns, a look of weary pride on his face. "Put in the call. I need another cell of acolytes." Xavier clears his throat, looking sheepish. "Sir, you know we have all but exhausted what good favor we had with the Ordo.. you've put so many planets to their end that they question your judgment." He swallows hard, trying to stand up tall in front of the inquisitor. "Inquisitor Dukovich, sir, they will want something in return for this request. They want the Fist of Terra, sir, and your resignation." Inquisitior Dukovich smiles, turning away and closing his eyes once more. "I know, my old friend. Tell them they can have it all. My ship, my armaments, whatever they desire. None of it will matter once we send that foul wizard to face the Emperor's wrath for all he has done to his cherished flock." With a faint bow, the interrogator leaves to make the last call for reinforcements he will ever make for his inquisitor. ---- From all across the Imperium, six loyal acolytes, workers of the Emperor's will, have been volunteered to the Inquisitor Cornelius Dukovich. From Ordo Hereticus Inquisitor ignatius Corde, a man programmed with enough lies and identities to fill the Imperium to burrow beneath the sorcerer's cover and expose it from within, if the need arises. And from the Ordo Scriptorum comes a criminal whose very knowledge of the inner workings of the Imperium itself allowed the dynasty he served to excel far beyond normal means, a man whose quick study could prove useful in guessing the movements of the heretic. Magdelene Forsythe, of the Ordo Malleus, has suggested the services of a telekinetic master, someone who may be able to disrupt the rituals and spells of the cell's foe, and alongside her comes a skilled confessor of the Ordo Sanctorum, a man skilled in close combat whose zealous faith can protect all who follow him into battle. And finally, two soldiers whose entire purpose within the Inquisition is to simply deliver the killing blow to their foes; an Arbites Justicar assigned to the Ordo Militarum, whose stellar record made her an easy choice, and a rarity from the Ordo Machinum, a factor of the lathes whose immense self-modification has been thoroughly disguised, allowing her incredible combat prowess and the distinct advantage of being underestimated. The six chosen now stand where Dukovich himself had his vision of a planet's destruction, watching through the massive bridge window as the peaceful planet spins, a massive weather system moving rapidly through its atmosphere and displacing clouds and ocean alike. The Inquisitor himself is nowhere to be found, but a note is displayed prominently on one of the nearby consoles: "Inquisitor Dukovich has been made aware of your arrival, and is currently in preparation for the mission to the planet below. Please, make yourselves acquainted with one another and his files on our quarry. The Emperor Protects Interrogator Xavier" Please post your character sheets and check in. We'll get this game rolling through the first scenario once we're all on board. John Dyne fucked around with this message at 16:41 on Sep 13, 2016 |
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Sep 13, 2016 14:02
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As the acolytes meet and greet one another, a trapdoor before them slides open with a hiss, steam rising up from the halls beneath. Slowly, a man rises into view, clad in gleaming silver power armor adorned with purity seals and flowing prayers etched into its surface. Dukovich's head is lowered as he is lifted from the corridor below, his eyes shut and his hands folded over the handle of an intimidating looking maul. Time has been unkind to the inquisitor, and in spite of his rejuvenation treatments and his own psychic powers, the weight of his charge has made him into a sad looking, weary man. He lifts his head as the lift stops, his eyes filled with youth and power. He grins, stepping forward and dragging his maul behind him slightly. "Good. I trust you all found your journey here enjoyable." He hefts the maul onto his shoulder with a slight grunt, his face turning somber. "I welcome you aboard the Fist of Terra, the pride of my fleet and, sadly, the last of it as well." He sighs, half-turning and gesturing with his free hand to the world below. "For longer than I care to admit, I have hunted a sorcerer and blunted his attempts to corrupt this sector. Time and again, I have met this foe, and again and again, it has been a pyrrhic victory. I get this close to the accursed cultist.." He turns, gripping his fist tight. "... and every time, he slips away. Every time! I see it coming and I try everything in my power to counter his accursed magicks, placing wards and reliquaries to stymie the flow of the warp... I have had his throat in my VERY HANDS and he has escaped." Dukovich's eye twitches as he speaks, baring his teeth as he gets angrier and angrier, his face reddening. "It's maddening! It's.." He pauses, his brow furrowing as humility sets into his weathered face. "Humiliating." He sighs, shifting the weight of his maul to another shoulder. "I know the stories you have heard of me, my acolytes. I have lost much face in the halls of the Inquisition. Politics have moved against me, and where once I was a mighty servant of the Emperor's justice, I am now but a silly old fool who has been chasing shadows through the shadows of his old age. Were I on the other side of the coin, I, too, would ask what has been asked of me for your help. This is my final mission, and this sector's final chance to be avenged for the hell that hath been wrought upon it by this villain." He makes a gesture towards the viewsceens, and Polonia can sense a psychic change in the air as he does so; the screens turn on, each showing a portion of an image that eventually fills the wall of the bridge with the image of a roguish looking man.  "Daizon Deisgradus of Caro V, former Rogue Trader, now seditionist, chaos cultist, and practitioner of the darkest arts. The Emperor smiled greatly upon him when he worked under me, but that has turned to a demon's own luck." He stares quietly at the screen for a moment, his face stony. "It's been more than a life time ago that I found him here, my acolytes. He had a tome that, in all honesty, had no rights being in the hands of a swashbuckler such as himself. But I saw the makings of greatness in him. I sensed what the Black Ships had yet to find." Cornelius looks back to the acolytes, tears welling up in his eyes. "I started him down this path. Every world that has burned.. it has burned due to my arrogance. Know that not a second has passed since his betrayal that I have not felt the weight of my actions hanging about my throat. The Emperor will judge me harshly when my duty is done, perhaps more harshly than they will the boy, but I know not whether the suffering I will feel at his hands for what I, as a shepherd, have done to his flock... can that even match what I feel every night as I stare sleeplessly at the ceiling?" The Inquisitor clears his throat as he reaches the verge of choking up, standing as tall as he can. "Forgive me. My life has been long, and my pain deep.. I am every bit the sad old man the rumors say, but not in the way they say. Seven hundred years, my acolytes.. it all started here seven hundred years ago, and today it will end here." He goes quiet, closing his eyes once more and sighing. "But I prattle on. You will have questions and will want instruction. I am your open book; ask, and I shall teach."
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Sep 15, 2016 05:16
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Daizon Deisgradus name is certainly ringing bells for Daveth; during his work on the Ordo Scriptorum, he recalls having investigated quite a number of attempts by cousins and more distant relatives of the family to wrest the Deisgradus warrant of trade away from its current claimant, the lone surviving Deisgradus son: Daizon. Each of these attempts were easily defused by the holder of the warrant, who always responded promptly in his defense and sent the requisite forms and documents to show he was still an active trader and valid claimant to the warrant. What stood out most, and what had primarily been ignored due to the nature of the arguments, were the claims that Daizon was a cultist who abhorred the Emperor; Daveth, and in honestly everyone who worked under the Ordo Scriptorum, were well acquainted with blue bloods hurling insults and accusations to deface those that opposed them and increase their own power, both financially and politically. It certainly wasn't strange for an aging third cousin to insinuate that the only young boy of a long and illustrious dynasty was in fact a heretic, and with the power the warrant held, it was ordered that the accusations simply be taken in stride and glossed over by the Inquisitors that had the comments brought to their attention. It certainly was a surprise for a noble to be correct in their accusations in such a matter. He recalls nothing from this sector attached directly to the name Deisgradus, but he's certain he could check back on the reports he'd worked on before and find some connection with the relatives; if Daizon is truly the man his peers accused him of being, then it's likely he has destroyed their names and houses in retaliation. Cornelius clears his throat as he thinks for a moment, before nodding to Loire. "Psyker classification Primaris. Unsanctioned, and untrained beyond my own hand. He was incredibly gifted and had amazing control for one with no formal training, even when I first met him, and he has honed it to a razor edge in the subsequent centuries. If he has devoted himself to one of the darker masters, I do not know. He has shown little outward sign of mutation or corruption, and wears no heraldry beyond that of his house in every encounter I have had with him." "He prefers to incite sedition and rebellion, turning the common folk against the nobility. He fancied himself a bit of a people's champion in his early days. No clue why, given his background." Dukovich shrugs. "But he starts a rebellion and uses it as cover to find tomes, artifacts, anything with any bit of knowledge, primarily anything hereteknical. His warrant and his family name gives him quite a bit of power and clout; he's evaded me for over seven hundred years and I could not tell you a single person that has harbored him as a fugitive in all that time."
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Sep 15, 2016 18:23
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To Polonia's question, Dukovich takes on an odd air of wistful pride. "His abilities are luckily physical manifestations; he was a master telekine and pyrotic by the end of our friendship. I have always felt one's psychic abilities reflect one's personality, and he was a fiery, pushy man. Our first encounter, when I assumed he was little more than a rogue psyker, cost me some of my finest armsmen at the time; without training he hurled a small vehicle four hundred odd meters." He chuckles, shaking his head. "You are likely right, but even if this is true, he has not given a showcase of his new abilities. My past few encounters with him, he's used little of his powers except to escape." He scratches his beard in thought. "He was always keen on the prospect of intermingling the mind with technology. And that is why I believe he is here." Cornelius turns his attention to Julio, nodding towards the planet. "Ages ago, we recovered a simple STC for the creation of what appeared to simply be a serrated knife. There is a manufactorum on the northern continent of Caro V, and out of simple curiousity of the process and what the STC could mean for the Imperium, we had the knife created to be studied. It took no special materials, and seemed no different from any other knife I have ever held, but something about it, or possibly its creation process, tapped into something in Daizon." For a long moment, the inquisitor is silent. "He plunged the blade into his skull and plucked out his own eye with it. Emperor above, I was frozen; I couldn't move a muscle. I couldn't even think. He killed our explorator and escaped then, and I've hunted him ever since." He turns, staring back out over the planet. "I am gifted with visions, my acolytes. I know he wants that STC. It is still on the planet, locked away, and I fear he's learned some terrible use for it or the manufactorum; it's possible that the STC itself isn't even his goal. I just know how much it appeared in my vision, and how driven he was by it." He looks to Daveth and gives him a shrug. "I was never informed of the complaints and I never requested to be informed. He is a noble that holds a warrant of trade; if you had told me all you heard from his family was that he was a wonderful man, I'd have been more surprised. But you give me food for thought.. I wonder if any of his family yet lives. We may find a pattern if not; Madam Polonia's suggestion of sorcery is apt, and we may yet notice a ritualistc pattern. I will set my interrogator on it immediately."
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Sep 16, 2016 18:01
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Loire strains her brain as she thinks long and hard; has she ever encountered a cultist that pulled such a trick? No, she realizes; if she has, she has no memory of it, but she knows self-mutilation is typically performed by sorcerers and cultists as part of some greater ritual. However, the wounds inflicted tend to have some sort of meaning to them, functioning as a currency for the daemons the sorcerer is bargaining with. If this is the case, then it's likely Daizon had fallen before Cornelius had even been aware. After another long moment of thought, she comes to the conclusion that the most obvious bargain would have been vision for vision, and the rogue psyker must have expected to learn something from his action. What it may have been is still lost to Loire. At Valencia's request, Dukovich nods, moving towards another console and leaning over it for a moment, typing away furiously. After a moment, he turns halfway and taps something on the console, causing another console to light up. Initially, what looks like a standard blueprint is displayed over the console, but the cogitators work rapidly and portions of the blueprint are highlighted and rapidly pulled away, transforming into tangible sections of a weapon until forming into the holographic model of the knife.  "This was the knife that was created from the STC. I have had allies who lean towards radicalism study it, I have had psykers and astropaths and every manner of occult specialist study it, and they have found nothing. Some of the greatest minds from the Black Ships and the Ordo Malleus and Hereticus have been aboard this vessel and spent well over a year studying the blade, but they have found nothing linking that would tie it to any ritual whatsoever beyond the fact it is a damned knife. There is no secret meaning to it, no special angles made into its form.." While Dukovich rambles, however, Valencia manipulates the image of the blade over the console; something had caught her eye while the blueprint was up. She had dealt with whole STCs before, it was true, and at first glance the STC was in fact a whole and not a fragment, but she needed that first glance back. The blade takes itself apart and dissolves back into its component parts, before once again forming as a blueprint. Dukovich stops talking, an eyebrow raised. Valencia studies the blueprint for a moment before tilting it to one side. She knows what she saw know; this wasn't a single STC. It was two bonded together; there was errant text all around the knife that was not actually a part of the knife's STC itself, and she traces the knife out and pulls its blueprint aside. That WAS a complete STC, but the parts remaining were not. She works to assemble the four triangular scraps, and the inquisitor looks downright amazed. "Emperor above, it.. it's not just one STC? By the warp itself, what.." Words fill the air before the acolytes in the technospeech of the machine cult. True dread fills what little flesh remains of Valencia as she sees what the second STC is a scrap of. She knew what she saw by a different name, a name that had been assigned after the Dark Age of Technology, a name that fills any tech-priest with dark curiosity and absolute fear. There, hanging before her, was the topmost section of another STC for a robotic entity. An STC for an artificial intelligence. If Cornelius is able to translate, he doesn't show it. He watches Valencia with furrowed brow, waiting for her report. He holds a hand up to silence Enos, shaking his head slightly. Even without knowing what the fragment says, the factor's body language speaks volumes.
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Sep 18, 2016 02:48
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For a long moment, Dukovich stands in stunned silence, his shoulders slumped as he stares at the data Daveth has pulled up. He runs an armored hand through his hair, shaking his head. "Countless acolytes have come and gone, most whom would deny Daizon even exists, and the lot of you unravel a plot seven hundred odd years in the making in less than an hour." He barks a short laugh and half-grins, looking positively floored. "Unbelievable." He ushers Daveth to one side, nodding as Valencia continues to speak. He works at the console as he responds to her, looking between the screen he's moved Daveth's findings to and the one he is currently working on. "Incredibly unlikely. No other planet in the sector has the facilities to create anything on a scale like this, save for Caro V, and we've had no record of Daizon on this planet since he first fled. His family's holdings have been monitored, and nothing has been disturbed on the planet. No, I have a feeling this is his final gambit." He hisses through his teeth as he steps back from the console. "As I assumed. I looked into this book by Confessor Brantag, and apparently the man typically focused on essays regarding the hereteknical and how the Ad Mech supported such heresy." He taps the screen lightly. "He wrote extensively on the possibility that the Mechanicus still retain functional examples of various heretical devices that were banned prior to the Age of Strife, including the Men of Iron. From what I can tell on works ABOUT him, it was his life goal to prove that the Mechanicus were one of the primary threats to the Imperial cult, and he claimed to have found proof of it before his, ah.. assassination." Dukovich chuckles. "Throne. Well, based on his usual works and the fact it was his final work, I'd assume his venture into transforming ratling dishes into something puritanical is likely to turn out to be some sort of code book to unravel the web he wove about the Mechanicus." The Inquisitor folds his arms across his chest, glowering at the knife's STC. "I can't believe his plan has been right in front of me for seven centuries. I've had the best psychics and tacticians on this bridge, but never would I have considered having a record keeper actually look at a bloody record." Cornelius turns back to the acolytes, grinning. "My acolytes, it's been nearly a millennia in its coming, but today we will bring this sorcerer to justice and secure this sector once and for all. If the Factor is correct about the intelligence, however, we will need to work very hard to shut it down and preventing it from leaving this planet. I warn you, all of my knowledge going into this battle regards Deisgradus himself; he is a sorcerer most foul, and I can work to counter his spells and hexes, but I am unaware of any allies he may have. As far as I am aware, he has none, but in light of recent events.." He looks meaningfully towards the AI STC scrap. "Let's prepare and assume the worst. Come, my acolytes! Glory awaits us!" You are free to acquire any two items that are at most extremely rare, regardless of the cost; the Inquisitor is losing his ship and arms stock and gives no poo poo about you guys raiding it to finally end his life long hunt. If you take any weapons, assume you get three magazines with it, and if you get consumables or grenades/bombs, assume you get at least three uses of the item.
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Sep 21, 2016 00:48
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Should clarify: you are getting gear, not implants. He might have the synthmuscle but you won't be able to have it installed before you hit planet side.
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Sep 22, 2016 02:06
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Once everyone has taken what they want or need from his armory, the Inquisitor's aides lead the acolytes to the Fist of Terra's launch bay, where Dukovich stands astride the loading ramp of what appears to be a retrofitted Thunderhawk. The transport's engines are already warming up and ratings scurry about, making sure the ship is fueled and nothing of value will be lost when the ship opens up to the void to launch the transport. He motions for everyone to board before disappearing into the inside of the ship. Aboard the Thunderhawk, the deafening roar of the engines is muffled to a distant hum, thanks to the amazing sound-proofing built onto the ship. The Inquisitor is busy with his Interrogator, having his armor secured in place for launch and landing. Cornelius turns his head, nodding towards the seats for people not in seven foot tall power armor. "Have a seat and buckle in. We depart as soon as we are all settled; Xavier will be piloting us to the planet below, where we will make a straight shot towards Manufactorum Prime of Caro V. Daizon will either be there, or be headed there, and if it is the latter I pray we can lay a sufficient trap for him." Within minutes, the boarding ramp to the transport slams shut, and the ship shudders as the atmosphere outside is exposed to the void. Once fully decompressed, however, the ship glides smoothly from the Fist of Terra's hangar, its engines burning bright as it makes its way towards atmosphere. Dukovich sighs, looking uncomfortable in the armor that's been all but bolted to the wall. "When we touch down, we will need to move quickly towards the heart of the Manufactorum. Valencia, it is a standard pattern Manufactorum Prime, so I assume you will be able to lead us where we need to go. Once there, we will shut the entire facility down, permanently if need be. It will require an administratum identification code to shut down, as well as an Adeptes Mechanicus all-access code and input from a planetary noble and Justicar." He gives the acolytes a wry grin. "I've done my homework, and I'm sure you felt you were an eclectic lot, but I assure you, this has been my end game the entire time. Caro V has little to it except the Manufactorum Prime, so Daizon OBVIOUSLY needed it for something. I hadn't known what, but now?" He goes quiet as the ship rocks from the turbulence of hitting atmosphere, before smoothing back out. However, a moment later, the ship begins to shudder from turbulence once more; Dukovich furrows his brow and turns his head towards the cockpit, yelling for Xavier, whose voice comes out over the radio within the walls. "Sir, we've hit a strange column of churning gas. Sensors haven't quite gotten a reading yet, but it seems massive." Cornelius looks confused for a moment, mouthing the word gas before his eyes go wide. Polonia feels a massive surge of malefic power from the planet below, on a scale she has never felt before. "Xavier, evasive maneuvers, now! Hard, sudden banks! Do not be predictable! We are at extreme range but that is a bloody melta cannon that hasn't fully primed!" Xavier gives no response except to follow orders, and the ship slams hard to the left, leaving Dukovich almost dangling from his harness. He curses and grabs the metal harness, using the enhanced strength of his suit to crush it and free him; the Inquisitor throws an arm up to protect his face as he hits the far side of the ship, between the seats holding the acolytes. For a moment, time seems to slow down. The side of the ship that once held Dukovich quickly gains an eerie glow to it as the metal heats and begins to run, turning into something liquid. The air fills with the smell of hot steel and a baking heat, and the entire right wing and a good portion of the passenger cabin is vaporized, super-heated droplets of molten metal floating in the air for a moment before turning to steam, which contorts into twisted, malefic symbols in the air. The blast fills the void sensitive mind of Polonia with anguish and fear, and the look on the inquisitor's face shows he is sharing the same sensation with her; he grabs hold of the harness in front of him and turns, yelling over the roar of the rushing air. "WE NEED TO EVACUATE THIS VESSEL, NOW! WE ARE SMALLER TARGETS AND HARDER TO TRACK THAN THE THUNDERHAWK, AND WITH ONE WING AND ENGINE GONE, WE ARE A SIMPLE TARGET TO STRIKE!" The inquisitor yanks at an emergency release for the harnesses and points towards a surviving rack of lockers. "ANTI-GRAV CHUTES! WE BAIL OUT THE BACK AND WE DO NOT HIT THEM UNTIL NECESSARY, LEST HE DETECT THEM! NOW! GO GO GO! I WILL TEND TO XAVIER!" Down towards the planet, Polonia senses the same malefic energy beginning to build once again.. React, bail out, and give me an agility test. These chutes give +20 to your test so if you don't have the operate skill, the penalty for it is negated. You will survive this fall regardless, but depending on the test you may land more scattered than intended.
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Sep 23, 2016 20:47
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For a brief moment, the acolytes feel the effects of gravity reverse on them, which throws off the grav-chutes of the less trained amongst them; the air crackles with potential energy, and above them, Dukovich appears at the side of the ship with Xavier in tow, before the entire ship is engulfed with a single colossal blast of energy, further throwing Zachariah, Loire, and Julio off course. Davith is no stranger to the swells of energy that can be encountered while space walking and properly compensates, while Valencia and Polonia simply allow their special abilities to keep them upright and falling safely. The Brains of the Operation  The psyker, the pencil pusher, and the factor land together on the road that runs alongside Caro V's Manufactorum Prime, a massive facility that handles the most intricate and complicated manufacturing processes in the sector. Far above them, the skies have turned dark and cloudy, which Polonia can sense is a result from the immense sorcerous powers that have been expelled within the past five minutes. Try as she might, however, she cannot pinpoint the focal point of the psychic manifestations; so much of the warp has been played with in this region that everything has run together, giving her psychic senses something of radio static to sort through. She's sure, given time, that she can filter through it, but for now she's running almost blind. Valencia and Davith both find that their vox communications are receiving similar interference, and can't even catch a signal five feet away from one another. Their electronics and other gear seem to be functioning perfectly fine, but no outside signals seem to be capable of reaching them at the moment, another likely side effect of the great warp powers unleashed recently. Turning their attention to the facility before them, Valencia finds it especially strange that there are no servitors or servo skulls moving between the buildings, let alone a lack of technomats and engiseers; she's certain that the entire facility would likely be affected by this psychic phenomenon, and there should at least be some lower level adepts scurrying around to find elbow grease and headlight fluid to put things back on track. But nothing stirs; vehicles sit unmanned and cold to the touch, but there seems to be no obvious sign of struggle. Valencia and Davith both have some idea of where to head from here; the tech-priest, having served in Manufactorum Prime facilities similar to this one, knows that their mission objective would lie in the primary servotorium, some two kilometers into the facility and accessible through the primary warehouse directly in front of them. Direct access to the physical heart of the facility might be the best method to shut Daizon's plan down, though there is risk that Daizon or some force working for him is already there. Without the proper codes, however, Deisgradus would be incapable of putting the monolithic machinery to use, and should Valencia and Davith have the incorrect codes, then the only option would be to simply destroy the facility, a fairly undesirable outcome. Davith, however, with his knowledge of protocol, can surmise that in the event of an emergency, any and all personnel would retreat to the bunker beneath the cafeteria, which would be inaccessible for quite some time if they were to enter the warehouse; the quickest method of reaching the cafeteria and possible living resources would be to move between the buildings. If his or Valencia's codes are wrong or outdated, they would be unable to lock down the central facility and would be unaware until it was too late, barring the possibility that the facility has security installed to take care of people who incorrectly try to access the core. This method would insure that the core ultimately survives, but would give Daizon time to set up there if he isn't already there. The possibility of remotely shutting the central facility also presents itself, but that is only if the facility is properly equipped as such. Far off in the distance, the three hear the faint sound of gunfire, which echoes through the facility. From what they've learned from Dukovich, they know they must act swiftly; there is time for discussion, but no time to back track once committed. Polonia, Davith, and Valencia are able to land together at what would reasonably have been the landing spot for the Thunderhawk. You have basically two options to move in on the facility, and while I assigned the ideas to Davith and Valencia, they do not have to particularly agree with their own idea; I just assumed it'd be most natural for those two to know that information and form those ideas. You can present them more in-character if you like, but feel free to discuss the options and possible outcomes. I will be rolling to randomly determine certain aspects of the routes you take and neither have been generated yet, so in all honesty, both are pretty equal right now. Bringing the House Down Thanks to the pulsing power of the psychic blast, Zachariah, Julio, and Loire all begin to spin out of control as their grav-chutes work against their untrained hands. With such tremendous gravitational forces exerted, along with the rippling after-shocks that assault the mind, the three of them find themselves briefly losing consciousness, spiraling away from their colleagues and even one another. A fleeting moment passes for Zachariah before he awakens, feeling the air rush past him, his mouth dry from his jaw hanging open, and he finds himself staring upwards towards unfamiliar skies. He turns, finding he is rapidly approaching the ground below, and is able to re-ignite his grav-chute. He is jerked forcibly skyward, and for a moment he is able to survey the shanty town below him, before crashing through the roof of one of the poorly made buildings.  Mercifully, his armor absorbs the majority of the shock of the fall, and save for a few bruises and possibly a tender ego, Zachariah feels no worse for the wear. The tiny hut he has crashed in to was also mercifully unoccupied, but he only has a moment to himself before part of the wall to his right disintegrates in a hail of flak. A massive, cancerous looking fist punches through the hole and with a grunt, a being on the other side literally tears the lean-to's wall away, causing the rest of the roof to tumble down around Zachariah's head. Once the dust settles, the old priest finds himself staring down the barrel of a gangly looking ratling's shotgun, while his obviously mutated ogryn buddy looms over him, breathing laboriously. "What the feth is a fethin' nob idjit like you doin' fethin' fallin' from the fethin' sky into Willus' here's home, huh?! The feth is wrong with you?!" The little ratling's voice is nauseating, and Willus, the ogryn, nods slowly and grunts, his voice phlegmy and sick. "King Mark 'ere's roight. Ya done fethed up, ya nob! Ha ha!" Nearby, Zachariah hears the sound of repeated gunshots, but that is obviously not the most present threat. Combat, or test your best Fel ability to try to talk your way out. Justice Rains From Above Some four hundred yards away, Loire experiences a similar awakening and crash landing, but hers is a much ruder awakening; the cold shock of a river brings her to her senses, and she emerges from beneath the brownish-green waters of a river running by a shanty town, filled with the offal and debris of the nearby mutant settlement.  Mercifully, she doesn't believe she swallowed or inhaled any of the river water, but she sees that a handful of mutates are pointing towards her and gibbering wildly. Looking around, she sees the far bank is untouched and unsettled by the mutants, and a small river bar is only a short swim away, which, too, is covered in junk and debris. She hears two splashes as a pair of mutants dive into the water and begin swimming towards her; their intent is made clear when a third mutant fires a shoddy looking rifle at her, missing by a wide margin and kicking up a spray of water in the several miss locations around her. At some point, Loire swears she thought she heard a massive crash and the familiar sound of a shotgun blast, but right now, she has three mutants hoping for easy loot coming her way. Combat; you can test Athletics or straight Agility to out-swim the two mutants, or you can abuse the -30 to dodge they will suffer in the water with you. If you stun them, they will be out of the fight and drown, unless you rescue them. George of the Urban Jungle In some senses, Julio both fared the worst of his colleagues, and the best. While he regained consciousness near immediately and his grav-chute kicked in much sooner, he found he had lost complete control of where it was taking him, and got to spend most of his descent watching Zachariah and Loire plummet to the earth. Thankfully, the two of them seemed to regain some semblance of control, but ultimately they crashed into the same shanty town about a quarter of kilometer away. Julio, on the other hand, found himself slowly crashing into the boughs of a fairly sickly looking tree. He was unharmed by the approach into its branches, and he found that he had himself a fair place to monitor the surroundings once he was able to untangle himself and his grav-chute from the limbs of the tree. He heard the gunshots in the distance, and knows that his two allies are in trouble.  Luckily for him, it seems that he didn't attract much attention with his fall. No slavering animals or unkempt beasts seem to be prowling around the tree, and from where he sits, he can see for almost a full kilometer; nothing is in sight or even coming near him. The only obstacle seems to be a small minefield that the mutants have set up. The Emperor's mercy was with him that he didn't just crash into that. Test survival, straight int, or straight agility to get through the mine-field. If you come up with something you think is better, by all means! That latter rule applies to everyone.
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Sep 25, 2016 05:42
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Hammer Time Zachariah's hammer slams into Willus' face with tremendous force, causing ripples to cascade across the abhuman's idiot visage; as the motion subsides, the ogryn slowly blinks, clearly confused as to what just happened to him. He scratches his nose and sniffs his finger, before the ratling elbows him and points at the priest. "KILL HIM, STUPID." The ogryn goes wide eyed in realization, nodding enthusiastically before balling up his massive fist and swinging wide; Zachariah easily ducks under the telegraphed punch, leaving the ogryn off balance, but at the same time finding himself with the ratling's shotgun square in his face. As King Mark squeezes the trigger, Zachariah remembers a hymn from his youth, a song from an ancient bard in one of the original underhives regaling the wisdom of keeping track of one's bearing before it causes oneself damage; in particular, a line about shotgun bullets being bad for his health surfaces in his mind.. .. and in that instant, he slams his palm into the side of the shotgun barrel, leaning the opposite direction; the shot goes wide over his shoulder, his ears ringing from the shotgun's report. King Mark is thrown off his feet thanks to his footing being uprooted by the sudden change in the direction his barrel is pointing, leaving Zachariah with a confused and dizzy ogryn and a ratling flat on his rear end. The Emperor provides. 5 TB x 2 for Unnatural Toughness = 5 damage to Willus. PUNCH PRIEST vs 40: 1d100 98 1d10+10 11 SWING AND A MISS Shotgun Priest vs 98 (68 BS + 30 Point Blank): 1d100 60 hits 3 times Shotgun Damage: 1d10+8 16 1d10+8 17 1d10+8 17 Armor 8, TB 4, so -12 on all that for 4, 5, and 5 damage. 14 damage total to Zach, putting him at 4 wounds. EXCEPT DODGE EXISTS DUH Dodge vs 52: 1d100 9 Yeah Zach is untouched. Quick combat edit at work, Loire will receive one next. John Dyne fucked around with this message at 04:39 on Sep 28, 2016 |
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Sep 27, 2016 21:34
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Splish Splash Loire struggles to make it to the sandbar through the disgusting river, in part to her armor but primarily out of concern of getting a mouthful of the sludge. The mutants have no such qualms, however, and move through the water as if it were the most natural thing in the world, closing in on the arbites in no time. Both mutants lunge for her through the water in hopes of dragging her under or at the very least making her an immobile target, but they can't seem to get a grip on her; one is able to grab on to her leg very briefly, but catches a boot to the face as she continues to swim. The mutant on the dock curses as it struggles to reload its weapon, looking up from its weapon and across the river as a new figure appears. Mi Minefield No Es Su Minefield Julio navigates the minefield a step at a time, and finds that the minefield is mercifully small, only about four or five mines deep. Every other mound afterwards turns out to be a decoy; apparently, whoever set up the minefield hoped that any intruders would hit the first set of mines and then decide not to risk anything beyond. He is able to pick up his pace once clear, and within a minute of running he emerges through underbrush to a familiar face, Justicar Merovech. Who is currently swimming away from a pair of mutants who seem to be gulping down copious amounts of sludge water, while another mutant on the far dock is staring straight at Julio in shock, biting down on two bullets that it apparently intends to load into the lovely looking rifle in its hands. The two mutants in the water are too focused on Loire, and she seems like she's not too far from a sandbar where she can actually turn around and put her power maul or whatever she has into a mutant's face. Still, looks like the scum's shown up just in time to save the cop's bacon. SWIM SWIM SALABIM (vs 58 and 60): 1d100 30 1d100 24 Mutants swim just fine. Punch Cop (vs 45 and 35): 1d100 80 1d10+4 10 1d100 44 1d10+3 8 Mutants do not melee just fine. Julio has arrived to help Loire. Loire can reach the sandbar this round and will not have the -30 penalty to dodge. Julio has initiative before the mutants. Zachariah can also act again. I am assuming, for Davith, Polonia, and Valencia that you are going to head towards the cafeteria bunker, since that'll head towards the docks as well.
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Sep 29, 2016 11:52
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Rorschach Zachariah brings his hammer around in an upward arc, cracking the ratling square in the jaw with a sickening crack. King Mark starts to go limp, but before he can collapse, the old priest slams his hammer down into the little mutant's chest with all of his might, driving the midget to the ground and crushing his ribcage violently, splattering gore and viscera around the dock. Zach is able to close his eyes against the core, but Willus is too stupid to do such a thing, and screams out in horror at both the death of his friend and the blood in his eyes. He swings wildly for the old priest and misses with his wide, easily telegraphed punches, until the idiot ogryn trips and ends up crashing through yet another wall, tumbling down into a fetid looking river below. The ogryn does not re-emerge, though numerous horrible bubbles float to the surface. Across the river, he spies his comrade, Julio, opening fire into the river below, and sees the Justicar Loire scrambling onto a sandbar. He hears another rifle crack and turns to the noise, spying the mutant wielding the rifle cursing about fifteen feet away on the dock below. Reunion Loire gasps as she flops onto the sandbar, turning in time to kick one of the mutants in the jaw and keep it at bay. Over the ridge, Julio appears, pistols drawn as he opens fire to aide his comrades. The mutant on the far dock reels as the shot pierces his shoulder, and he fires prematurely, his shot going wide; the mutant who was kicked by Loire's head explodes when a bolt pierces just above his left eye and detonates. His comrade is luckier, the bolt splashing the water as he ducks under the water. When he pops back up, he spits out a glob of water and screams out, flailing his hands over his head as he emerges onto the sandbar with Loire. Suddenly, one of the houses' walls explodes outwards, and a massive, blood stained ogryn stumbles out and tumbles head over heels into the water below, headfirst. A moment passes before a bloodied Zachariah emerges, his gore-streaked hammer on his shoulder.
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Oct 4, 2016 05:34
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River Team Loire's shot snaps the mutant's head back, causing it to slump back into the water, dead. Julio fires a final shot at the last mutant, knocking the gun from his hands just as Zachariah leaps down from the level above, swinging his hammer in a powerful arc that sends the mutant sprawling limp into the river below. All is quiet as the last of the mutants splash into the water, save for the thick burbling of the river. Unlike their cohorts in the complex proper, Julio and the others find their technology works just fine, though any attempts to hail the other half of the cell comes up with staticky silence. While Inquisitor Dukovich and Xavier are also unresponsive, they find they still maintain lines of communication with the Fist of Terra in orbit above; they've been thrown a good two kilometers off course, ending up along a river that the Manufactorum Prime uses to dump its runoff. Following the river north would bring the cell closer to their original objective, but it will take hours by foot due to the horrific terrain. Their best bet would be to find some sort of vehicle to cover the distance more efficiently. According to the dataslates, a junkyard for cast off Mechanicus vehicles should be on Julio's side of the river about half a kilometer further south, though there is also the off-chance of finding a vehicle in the mutant shanty town. Manufactorum Prime With concerns about holding the core without a means to shut it down, Valencia leads Davith and Polonia through the alleyways between the massive Manufactorum buildings; she finds that luck is with her and the Prime facility follows the incredibly common Mark 5 layout. Even without access to map databases or orbital satellites, she feels she can easily guide the others in the right direction. However, after five minutes of walking, Valencia begins to notice subtle changes to the buildings that don't quite add up with how the layout works, and Polonia's brain senses what could only be described as a heartbeat or a pulse in the air. All three communication units explode with a sudden burst of static, which transitions into a smooth, sophisticated voice speaking as classical music plays in the background. "Welcome to my Manufactorum, ladies and gentleman. It's a shame the good Inquisitor will not be attending my grand party; the old man HAS been a bother all these years." An audible sip and grunt of pleasure come from the radios. "I forgot how exquisite the wine was on Caro V. You'd expect a forge world to be a terrible vinyard, but the Mechanicus have their secrets, don't they, Madam Lucinda?" Valencia: When you look up from the radio, you have lost your bearings. Where you thought you had come form the north is now a wall with a barred door that you could swear was to the west a moment ago. Davith: Your vision blurs slightly, and certain parts of the environment take a moment to slide back into place. You recgonize the psychic trickery, but aren't able to tell what exactly has gone on; just that with your resistance to psychic powers, you were able to catch a snag in the lie being woven. Polonia: The pulse beats heavier in your mind for a moment, and when you look around, you see that the world has shifted ever so slightly. You aren't certain what has happened, or how, but you can sense the psychic fuckery in the air. The voice continues to drone on. "And Lady Samsara, a pleasure to meet a like minded individual for once in this rotten life. Dukovich must have thought you would hold counter to me in some way; why else bring, and I brook no offense my dear, a knife to a gun fight?" Beneath the alley, the ground shudders and shakes, and the cement around one of the manholes leading to the sewers begins to crack horribly. "Should you see Cornelius, do me a boon and ask him why he would send a pencil pusher to confront me, would you, Master Waelon?" With an unearthly wail, a horrendrous figure punches its way clear from the tunnels beneath the alleyway, clawing its way to the surface; the manhole cover lands with an unceremonious clatter some distance down the alleyway, wobbling for a moment before settling still. Dank, matted and musty weeds and foliage cover its shoulders and arms and drape in front of its face, with two piercing yellow lights shining from beneath as its eyes. As it climbs up, its whole body creaks and whines with rust, and it turns its shaggy head towards the three intruders, steam hissing from somewhere deep in its chest. It's difficult to tell what parts of the creature are organic and which are artificial. "Oh, do forgive me, how I go on. If you'll excuse me, my friends, I am late to putting the Manufactorum online. Please, let my friend see to your every need and comfort. Ta!"
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Oct 7, 2016 02:27
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The shambling creature peers inquisitively at Polonia as she takes flight, realizing at the last moment what her intent is. It begins to raise its hand to bat her away, but is too ponderous; Polonia's blade strikes a spark as it hits its armored hide. The creature groans in anger and frustration, shuffling backwards slightly as it rests its knuckles back on the ground. From the strike, Polonia could feel no mental activity or soul in the construct; whatever it is, it seems to be real enough, and alive without a soul. In spite of this, the creature's form shimmers faintly from the strike, perceptible to only the psyker. Stone and moss disappear briefly to expose a construct of metal and wire, a machine ensorcelled to look like some sort of shambling monster. While a monster it may not be, it is still a massive weapon that seems to be controlled by Daizon. Pen 8 reduces armor to 3. 17 - 3 armor = 14 - 14 TB = 0 damage Initiative: 1d10+2 4 Parry vs 40: 1d100 100
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Oct 10, 2016 03:20
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Man of Stone Valencia leaps forward, swords blazing as she unleashes a flurry of blows on the ponderously slow creature of metal and stone. Most cuts simply scar the surface of its body, but she finds a gap in its armor and drives both blades forward, burying them to her fists inside the creature's chest. The mammoth's jaw hangs open as the light fades from its eyes, and it slumps backwards, Valencia riding on its chest. It hits the ground with a thunderous boom, and a moment passes before she is able to wrench her blades free; oddly, they are streaked with blood. She finds her footing even over the creature's chest; if it were a mirage or a glamour, she'd be sure to find some uneven footing. Polonia knows the creature had no mind or warp presence, so for it to bleed is particularly odd. Regardless, the creature lies still, and the cavern it erupted from gently steams. Easy Rider With no one seemingly willing to enter the horrible river again, the trio turns instead to the town itself, moving with weapons drawn through the shanty town. Curtains twitch aside and people hurriedly duck out of sight as a noble, a cop, and a priest move through the mutant village. Before long, the cramped town gives way to an open bazaar, where a handful of mutants browse around or lean lazily against their stalls. A mutant with his nose in the middle of his forehead and his mouth turned vertically glares at Zech, and scratches at the empty space where his nose would be. At the far end of the bazaar is a shoddily built bar, with various cobbled together vehicles sitting outside. One of them, obviously a former landspeeder, catches Loire's eye, though numerous makeshift motorcycles and moderately powered hover vehicles are available for commandeering or outright theft.
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Oct 19, 2016 21:57
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Vehicle Commandeering 101 The bar goes quiet as an Arbites storms in, asking about the owner of a vehicle out front. A few curious heads peer around before turning back to study their drinks or cards. The bartender, a giant of a man wearing only an apron, spits into a mug and wipes it out with a towel, glaring daggers at Loire all the while. After a few tense moments, conversation picks back up, softer than before and with more than a few eyes and ears in the direction of the Arbite. Outside, a few of the merchants quietly shut their stalls and start to leave for the day, while others simply move their firearms into more prominent viewing positions at their stalls. Julius, especially, can feel the tension in the air rising. Zachariah notices that most of the mutants in the bar are armed, and catches hand movement as some patrons loosen their holsters or turn off safeties. Remedial Heretical Archaeoxenopsychobiology Polonia is able to carefully rend apart the metal plates and stone slabs that comprise the chest armor of the behemoth, and as she does, there is a sudden burst of blood into the sky, which hisses and smokes in the sunlight before completely evaporating. A foul stench emanates from within the chest of the creature, and there is a crackling inside as something electrical shorts out. Immediately, Polonia feels dark power within the exposed cavity, and something claws and screams in a death throe at the gates of her mind. She feels a great unease; whatever the creature was, it was fueled by sinister magic. Peering inside, she sees numerous red runes that are slowly dimming, and the stretched and tanned flesh of some creature that has been crafted into odd tubes; several of these tubes have been punctured, and seem to be the source of the blood from before. Beyond that, Valencia notices that the mechanical workings are unlike any she's seen before; the work is artistic and intricate, beyond anything that is made on the lathe and forge worlds these days. While it could easily be archaeotech, she isn't so sure; it seems advanced even for what she's seen of archaeotech. Regardless, she can tell, short of the leather used in whatever ritual powered the machine, there are no organic components within; this was a sapient automaton. She would need to dig deeper to learn more, as would Polonia. Davith, in the meanwhile, is caught downwind of the rotting smell that came from within the creature; within it, he smells burnt parchment and ancient inks, along with the clotting blood and festering leather.
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Oct 25, 2016 23:22
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Are You Smarter Than a Lathe Factor? Some time ago, during his time with the Administratum but before he became an 'asset' to the Inquisition, Davith recalls being hired to validate the authenticity of a tome that was said to have been millennia old. The fee he was given was outrageous, and the armed men that delivered it gave him a good idea of his fate had he revealed an ancient piece of potentially valuable or heretical literature was being traded without Imperial authority. He had been selected due to the knowledge he had of forgery and falsely dating important documents; it was assumed that if he could pull it off as well as he did, he'd be able to spot a fake with enough scrutiny. The tome was legit, as he learned. He had thumbed through its pages and saw the brittleness in the paper, the way the ink had set and had even been able to determine it was a formula of ink that hadn't been produced in quite some time. He'd also used his time investigating the tome to give it a little read, simply out of curiosity. It was hard not to when he was flipping through the pages to verify that there weren't just a handful of good pages and the rest of it fake. What he saw in there, he now sees before him. Back then, he thought it had all been a cruel and disgusting joke, a stain of heresy upon a book that seemed to cover otherwise standard technology of the Dark Ages. There was no way it could have ever been produced, there was no way anyone could have ever built such a device. It was just simply unfathomable. No one was so mad or hereteknical to actually put those designs into working order; even without an understanding of what went into the creation of the machine, he knew the gear heads would scream bloody blasphemy about it. But he couldn't deny what lay before him. It wasn't picture perfect, and something had either been lost in the translation or had gone wrong during the construction, but Davith knew what he saw before him. It was an attempt at recreating a Man of Stone. Polonia, meanwhile, can't quite place what rituals were used on the creature. A closer inspection does reveal to her the runes tattooed into the leather surrounding the central chamber of the automaton. Something should have been sitting in the center, she is sure of it, but she can't quite put her finger on what it had to have been. Looking around, she notices that the alley way seems to have reverted to normal; whatever was altering their perceptions was clearly tied to whatever kept the monstrosity moving. A thought flickers to her mind; had her perceptions been altered? Or had it been reality itself?
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Oct 28, 2016 03:32
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Ball Room Blitz Loire grabs on to the bartender's nose ring and yanks down with all of her might, but running a dive bar takes a special kind of personality, and while the man is initially surprised, he does ultimately resist, stopping partway down to the bar. Momentum alone lets Loire rip the ring from his nose with a spray of blood; the man's eyes go wide and he curses loudly, covering his face with his hand as he stumbles back, rage in his eyes. There is a moment of still silence as the bar patrons all either begin to reach for a weapon or start to slide out of their seat, intent on reaching the door before bullets start flying. The man looks at his hand and then back at Loire, his body trembling with anger. And then he starts to laugh, a gurgling noise that sprays even more blood onto the bar. He grins, teeth crooked and stained with his own blood, and leans forward at the bar. "You got some big balls on ya for a cop bitch. That land speeder? Farty Joe's." He points a bloody finger across the room at a man who is currently trying to slip out the front door but stymied by the presence of the priest. "Killed one of them cogheads for it and has been braggin' about it ever since, and yet can't pay his fuckin' tab. He's all yours, ladies." Joe freezes, looking around rapidly before simply trying to sprint past Zach, slamming right into the cleric's chest and bouncing off. The man looks up at him in panic before diving under a nearby table, causing the patrons to get up with a curse. It doesn't look like he's going to come easy. Opposed Str v 30: 1d100 22 Opposed Str vs 50: 1d100 12 John Dyne fucked around with this message at 16:50 on Oct 28, 2016 |
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Oct 28, 2016 16:47
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Ballad of Farty Joe Joe comes slowly out from under the table, giving the cop and the cleric a nervous glance. He stands up to his unimpressive full height, standing a foot shorter than Julius, and dusts himself off, sniffing in derision. "Fine, whatever. Bloody thing has been getting me too much attention anyhow, but not a lick of strange." He gives Julius a knowing wink before digging the keys out from inside his jacket, tossing them to the man. "And aye, I capped a tech-priest for them keys, but I get the feelin' ya got bigger fish to fry, cop. You're here after that rich bloke, ain'tcha? Couple of the dumber folk here have taken his coin and gone missin', but no one wanted to even look cross eyed at a man like him." The pub has gone quiet as this discussion goes on, while Joe continues to ramble out of sheer fear and nervousness. "Look, take it from me, just turn back. Leave that man alone. He's the worst kind of trouble; all of us here, we've tasted the taint of chaos. We try to live normal, we try to stay off the radar.. but he's somethin' horrible on his own. He came through town once, paid a man for his services and wares, and then turned around and killed him on the spot with a snap of his fingers." Joe gulps hard, his voice going raspy as his throat dries on him. "He's the sort of terror that gets planets burnt up, but he's apt to burn up a planet on his own if the whim struck him, I swear it and I don't even know the man." The pub remains quiet after this, most of the patrons looking into their drinks or staring at their cards. The bartender snorts, sending a fresh spray of blood onto his bartop that he mops up. "Alright, you three got what you want. Get the feth outta my bar. Yer spoilin' the mood." Glimpses of Madness After coaxing Davith into moving, Valencia continues to lead the trio through the back lots and alleyways of the factorum to the best of her ability. Polonia feels the air grow thicker with psychic power the further they move into the facility, and Davith feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end as unnatural green lightning licks across the blackened sky. Reality, however, seems stable, and Daizon's attention seems to have been diverted from them for the moment; if he has noticed that his first warrior fell, he makes no sign of it. Fifteen minutes pass before Valencia rounds a corner and finally spies signage for the back door to the cafeteria not five hundred feet away. The three pick up their pace, but as they can reach the door, something in the air changes. Every psychic warning and alarm in Polonia's head begins to scream at full volume, and she is the first to turn, before he can even speak. "I'm impressed. You saw artificial intelligence, and you have lost your handler, and yet you continue after me? Do I have the honor of seeing true valor, or am I experiencing the greatest stupidity in the history of the Imperium?" More than halfway down the alley, back the way they came, stands Daizon, his head cocked to one side in curiosity and a wry smile on his face; his one good eye glitters with mirth, while an arcane symbol on his eyepatch glows faint blue. A hand rests lazily on the rapier at his side, and he stands at complete ease, waiting for a response from the three of them.
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Nov 6, 2016 02:44
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Wait. Daizon is in FRONT of you. You lifted the masonry and stone BEHIND him, and flung it at his back... and missed. Did.. did you just throw 600 pounds of stone and masonry at yourself? This is a beautiful metaphor for the American election.
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Nov 9, 2016 15:09
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Sorcerer Supreme Daizon frowns, resting a hand on his saber and tucking the other into the small of his back. "I see. Well, you can't say I didn't try to talk this out." The sorcerer slides into a ready stance, his eyes twinkling. Davith, taking the initiative, opens fire with his las pistol, firing a single lance of energy down the alley way, which strikes thin air and dissipates outward. The rogue trader shakes his head, his eyes firmly on Polonia. "I have wealth beyond measure, my pencil pushing friend! I have the finest arms and armor, trinkets that would fill an Inquisitor with envy! Don't you wonder why he's hunted me so doggedly? Don't you ponder how he can have me in his grasp and let me escape? Do you feel no concern for why he simply hasn't struck me down or caught me on-planet with his usual go to methods?" Valencia answers the psyker's taunts by jetting towards the former rogue trader, the blades extending suddenly from her arms. She closes the distance in moments, bringing her blades around in a flurry of blows; to her surprise, Daizon deftly brings his lone blade around in a wall of steel, catching each strike with incredible speed. He locks his single blade against her two and pushes back, his eyes blazing as he stands face to face with her. "All of the destruction he's left in his wake, every planet razed, every acolyte he has sent to their doom, it's all been for his own gain, sacrifices to his OWN dark god." The rogue trader disengages from Valencia with a rain of sparks, bringing his other hand from behind his back and thrusting it forward. Polonia feels the ripple in the fabric of the warp even before he moves, and in an instant, Valencia is thrown back the entire distance she had charged, tumbling once head over heels but ending upright on her rear end. "Had I wanted to kill you, I would have already! You feel my power, do you not? My path has not been one of righteousness but I am no slave to the dark powers!" As he speaks, Polonia unleashes her own psychic powers, ripping chunks of concrete and masonry from the surrounding buildings and the pavement of the alleyway itself, hurling it at Daizon from behind. Deisgradus seems to sense the attack coming and merely ducks, but as he stands he curls his hands into claws at his side, his body straining as he thrusts them out, palms up, before raking and raising them back towards him, ending with the palms facing him. The debris stops in mid air a dozen feet from the acolytes, and Daizon uncurls his fingers, letting the debris fall to the ground. Daizon stands quiet for a moment before sheathing his sword. "I am not the villain here. My research, everything he has chased me for and tried to beat me to, has been to create something to combat the hells he wishes to unleash on this planet. Do you truly, TRULY believe that I would unleash an attack like the one that downed your vehicle and only clip the bloody wing?" He now stands with hand on his hip, the other hand gesturing as he speaks; he taps two of his fingers to his temple, looking incredulously at the acolytes. "Think for a bloody moment instead of running around like mad dogs. By the throne, you'd think you were damned Khornate cultists with how you lot jump straight into a fight." "So then, lad and lasses. Are we going to parley, or am I to assume you three are the idiots of your sextet? Because, to be completely earnest, I thought that was the trio that landed in Mutant Town."
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Nov 17, 2016 06:54
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Highway to Hell Julius hops into the driver's seat of the land speeder and jams the key in, twisting it as he presses in on the brake. However, nothing happens; the engine does not stir or even rattle. He checks all that he knows to check, and finds everything should be in working order; the fuel gauge is nearly full and nothing seems to be missing or broken. From the door, Farty Joe emits a hearty laugh and makes a twisting gesture with his forefinger and thumb. "Flip the key over, ya git!" This works. The engine roars into life, with Loire in the front seat alongside Julius and Zachariah climbing into the back. The vehicle lifts off into the sky, high above the little town, and Julius scans the horizon before spotting the squat but hulking form of the manufactorum, turning the vehicle in that direction and pushing the throttle forward; the ground below begins to slowly streak away as the speeder picks up momentum. Suddenly, the vehicle rocks violently with the sound of metal on metal, and the crew turns their heads to see a group of winged mutants in pursuit; flames trail from one of the damaged wings, but the damage is mercifully only cosmetic and superficial at the moment. One of the mutants is struggling to reload what looks like a grenade launcher, falling behind from the other five in his pack as he fumbles one of the grenades to the ground below. "Out here, we're the law, pigs! Ya can't commandeer poo poo without the say so of the Hell Bats! We'll make sure no one has that fethin' thing and give Joe his due for shortin' us on this!" Two of the winged mutants laugh and swoop in, landing on the very back of the speeder and digging abnormal looking claws into the metal as they fold their wings, both wielding hammers similar to Zachariah's; two more bank to the side and open fire with shotguns, their pellets pinging uselessly off the side of the speeder and missing the occupants completely. Only the leader hangs back, yelling at the grenade launcher wielding mutant to hurry his rear end up. You guys are in combat. Roll initiative. Two mutants are engaged with the speeder but not yet any of its occupants; the two that have flown to either side are about 15 meters out. The leader is 30 meters back, and grenade launcher guy is 40 meters. The speeder has 20 hull and 10 armor on the back, 15 on the sides, and 15 on the front.
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Nov 22, 2016 22:13
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Sorry for the delay and lack of response, but since I work in retail sales, this time of year is absolute dogshit. There will be an update likely the Monday or Tuesday immediately after Christmas since I get a five day vacation then. 
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Dec 23, 2016 02:13
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Flying the Unfriendly Skies It was supposed to be a simple highjacking. Max and his boys had seen the speeder from below, and they'd always had a plan to do something like this. Fly up, kill the pilot, salvage the crash and the passengers, make a great payday. Sure one of his guys might catch a slug or two, or worst case scenario, a laser blast, but no one around here packed any serious heat. Unfortunately for Max, Julio and the others weren't from around here. Zachariah roared out as he batted one of the mutants clean out of the sky, his body bouncing against the wing of the speeder before tumbling head over heels, limbs flailing, to the ground below. The pig in the backseat shouldered a huge gently caress-off rifle and blew off the wing of another one of Max's men, and without the lift, the mutant fell to the ground like a rock. But it was the loving servo skull that ruined his day the most. Max was able to duck out of the way of the plasma blast easily enough, though the scream behind him told him all he needed to know about the fate of his buddy with the grenade launcher. When Max turned back around, the overheated skull beaned him square between the eyes, and he caught it dumbly in his hands, staring at it incredulously. When he looks back up after hearing the skull's owner screaming at him, Max did what a winged mutant does best. He ran. He dove, hard, his heart beating fast and his body sweaty from fear and nerves. This wasn't the simple highjacking he had expected. This was a loving nightmare. A few shots whizzed by him from Julio's spray of lead, but Max escaped untouched, hurtling himself away from the speeder as fast as his mutant limbs could carry him. Max had decided he was going to see about becoming a penitent to the Emperor after all this. All of the mutants either died or hosed off. The leader survived to harass you another day. Daizon update coming later.
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Dec 31, 2016 06:21
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Dealing with the Devil Daizon visibly relaxes when he sees that both Davith and Valencia are interested to hear him out. "That's the right choice, then, isn't it? Listen, your inquisitor, he -" Polonia unleashes a mighty barrage of invisible spheres at the sorcerous Rogue Trader, and with his guard down, the first catches him square in the face, causing his head to whip back violently and his hair to fly out of control around him. Blood sprays from his lip and nose and he staggers for a moment, before seeming to regain his senses and duck to the side to avoid the next set of missiles. His hair is now a mess and in complete disarray, and blood trickles down his chin and upper lip; he bares bloodied teeth at Polonia, his fists crackling with power as he bats the next few telekinetic strikes away. "Your narrow minded simpleton! A greater doom approaches us all and you're keen to prattle on about impurity and indiscretions?! I don't bloody care that you're some sort of psykana teacher, you're as daft as they come!" Daizon's hair begins to float about him in a nimbus as jagged bolts of energy crackle around his body; the scent of sandalwood sours quickly as reality begins to ripple and crack around the rogue trader, his good eye turning milky white as power wells up within him. The ground beneath him cracks and dents downward as he hovers, the air around him whipping into a visible storm in a sphere about him. But the sorcerer unclenches his fist and exhales heavily through his gritted teeth, lowering his head as the power fades and he drops back to the ground. He brushes his hair back from his face and wipes the blood from his chin, looking at it for a moment before shaking his head and digging a kerchief from a pocket with his clean hand. "Forgive me, I have a bit of a temper when it comes to people being right idiots in the face of a greater power; I see it as similar to pantsing a minister in church. Good fun up until you get caned." He grins, his mood turning back to a cocky swagger as he cleans his hands. "I ken that knocking the stupid out of your psychic friend there wouldn't do much to endear me to you lot, so let's keep our minds to ourselves, yeah?" He hops up out of the divot he had created and tucks the handkerchief into a back pocket, cautiously approaching the trio. "Right, quick run down here. Your inquisitor's gone mad and is hearing whispers from one of the dark gods. His other men are either following him due to being completely loyal morons, or they're turned, too. Being what I am, I saw the influence and tried to work it out with him, but he called me a traitor. Tried to fill me in on his plan, I fought fire with fire, tried to keep ahead of him, and here I am now." The man sniffs, keeping his hands up in front of him to keep them where the three can see them. "He's set to sacrifice this final planet and bring out some nasty thing from the warp to rampage across the galaxy and consume Terra and everything standing before it. Don't quite know what it is, but it's a bit more than your average daemon; old fool's convinced nothing that can be touched and perceived by the warp can stand against it." He taps his forehead with a sly grin. "Hence, artificial intelligence. Men of Stone and Men of Iron, an army of beings with no soul, but this time, we can keep reins on them. Magical rituals and what not." With a shrug, Daizon glances from Polonia to Valencia. "So, what do you lot think? Am I doing this on my own, or are we going to keep this little scrap going? Because the way I see It, we don't have a whole hell of a lot time, and if we're going to kill each other, I'd like to get it over with so at least one of us can take down that old idiot."
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Jan 1, 2017 06:52
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Turbulence With the mutants routed, there is little to stand in the way of the speeder's race towards the manufactorum; however, after seven minutes of flight, the vehicle begins to beep a fuel warning, and Julius sees the needle is sitting firmly on the E. He eases the vehicle down, landing in the empty parking field to the south of the manufacoturm, and as the vehicle descends, the radio kicks out into static; like the others, Loire, Zach, and Julio find their communications are no longer responsive. Over one of the far off buildings, Zachariah spies several chunks of debris sailing into the air, amidst a localized lightning storm. Whatever it is, it's likely to be about five minutes away by foot. Speeder team has landed, and can join the fight with Daizon; they would arrive as Polonia and Davius are pointing their weapons at him.
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Jan 7, 2017 22:03
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Strange Bedfellows Daizon remains still as Polonia circles him with her blade drawn, keeping his hands visible and away from his own blade. Moments later, the rest of the cell arrives, and he finds himself with several guns and melee weaponry pointed at him. He sighs, keeping his eyes forward as he speaks. "So good of you three to join us. You seem to know who I am, and I know who you are, so I assume we can skip the introductions and get to the meat of the matter. I was explaining the double cross your Inquisitor was pulling on you and his intent to sacrifice this planet, like the others before, to bring about a horrific warp titan to consume and lay waste to the souls of the Imperium." He clears his throat, smiling warmly now. "The Men of Stone I have created are soulless machinations that were intended to fight this creature, if it comes about, but I'm truly hoping you six can actually, I don't know, STOP Dukovich?" His smile fades as he ends his sentence. "Look, I know Dukovich sent you on the premise that you were to stop me from creating an artificially intelligent automated monstrosity, and I've already done that. By what he's told you, you've already lost. I have nothing to gain coming to you for help if I'm the villain here, since I've already got my army. I'd be pointlessly putting myself at risk on the cusp of victory, and for what?" He folds his arms across his chest, looking between the six members of the cell. "But that old man is lying to you." "Cornelius knew you couldn't get inside the central manufactorum facility, and if you died here, it'd be blamed on me. But I can get you in. He's in there right now, preparing his ritual. He's going to destroy the planet's core and bring about a cataclysm unlike anything seen before. You have everything to lose not believing me." He sighs, running a hand through his hair and adjusting the strap of his eyepatch. "Look. I'll be your prisoner, take you there, get you in. When he's there like I say he is, you stop him and we know who's on the right side of history here. And if I'm lying? Well, there's six of you and one of me, and I'm going to be in cuffs." The Rogue Trader unbuckles his scabbard from his waist and tosses it to Polonia, twisting a ring off of his right middle finger. "I've got a holdout plasma pistol in a holster on my left leg, and this is a digi-melta I'm pulling off here. I expect these back once we've stopped this idiot. Forcefield generator's in my necklace, if that's a concern." Julio studies Daizon as he talks, but doesn't discern any tics on the man's face; he seems calm but convicted with what he's saying. Polonia still doubts the plausibility of the alleged plan of Dukovich, however. Believe him or not, this is a time to act; he can lead you to the central facility Dukovich originally wanted you to attack him at, or you can take advantage of his disarmed state. John Dyne fucked around with this message at 03:16 on Jan 11, 2017 |
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Jan 11, 2017 03:04
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Daizon tests his shackles for a moment and shrugs, lowering his hands to his waist. He raises an eyebrow at the priest and his crossbow, but just gives him another shrug. "I may be a witch, but I'm not crazy, my friend. I've done what I needed to out of necessity. Do you really think I'd want to blow up the world where all of my family's fortunes are staked? Please." He grins, brushing his hair away from his face before lowering his hands again. "But regardless, we've got an apocalypse to put a stop to." At Loire's prodding, he begins to march forward, humming to himself as he does. Feel free to recover any wounds or fate points as this is sort of a rest/transition period. Feel free to ask Daizon any questions or make any lore tests you like at this point; he will grant +20 to any lore test pertaining to the sector, the warp, rogue traders, or really anything related to what you'd expect a sorcerous swashbuckling rogue trader to know. The march takes a good fifteen minutes, but finally Daizon stops the group in front of an inconspicuous section of alley wall. He walks over to it, placing his ear against it for a moment before pressing his hands against the bricks searchingly. "I don't have any sort of clearance into the facility proper, but the Deisgradus dynasty has been on this planet for millennia, at least; we supplied workers and materials when this manufactorum was being built, and I believe that was primarily so my ancestor could hide a few secret doors to allow his people to move more easily against our opposition. Never a dull moment, politically, on a forge world." He gives Valencia a smirk at this before turning back to the wall. "Bloody switch has to be here somewhere. This door will take us into a small warehouse, which should give us a good start towards the heart of the facility. I have a few of my men of stone tucked away en route, though the majority of them are lying dormant in the sewers below the plant. If we need them, I can call on them, but.." He looks back to Valencia and Polonia. ".. I have my doubts you'll allow their use, mm?" He shakes his head, pausing for a moment with his hands over the bricks. Realization sets in on the Rogue Trader's face, and he rolls his eyes with a groan. "Oh, for the love of.." Daizon takes one step to the left and kicks the wall, hard, causing it to swing inwards with a grinding of gears. He turns to the group and gives a faint bow, smiling broadly. "Prepare yourselves, my unexpected friends. I don't know what to expect inside but I don't imagine we'll have a leisurely stroll to our Inquisitor."
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Jan 26, 2017 16:58
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Daizon nods to Julio, for the moment ignoring the barbs and threats of the others as he closes his eyes and goes still. Polonia can feel the Rogue Trader reaching out with his mind to sense the area, and out of concern that he may tamper with the findings or outright lie, does so as well, letting her mental self float from her body to peer through the walls of the building and see what may lie ahead. She finds herself afloat in an astral form alongside Daizon, whose brow is furrowed; his astral being is fortunate enough to have both of his eyes intact, although the one that would be under the eye patch throbs a dull orange. He gives her a strained smile and gestures out over the facility. "Servitors, mostly. Not many living beings in this facility, though whether that is through the staffing or murder I'm not sure. What I am sure of is that." He points towards a flickering power, physically deep within the Manufactorum but feeling dreadfully close to Polonia. The psychic energy is very familiar to her, and she recognizes it after a moment as that of Inquisitor Dukovich. "Cornelius is already doing.. SOMETHING, but I truly can't tell what. But he is fully divested of everything but what it is his he's doing, else I'd fear he'd have sensed us by now." The sorcerer scratches at his beard for a moment. While Daizon is untrained in the finer art of psyniscience, Polonia has all but mastered its use, and it's readily obvious to her that Dukovich is focusing and gathering his mental powers; he is continuously unleashing his power and gathering it back from deep within himself, over and over. To what purpose is lost on her, as she is unaware of any sort of ritual, even the one that Daizon had suggested he was attempting, that would require such effort. She is, however, confident in that he isn't simply signaling for help with this action; the Inquisitor was an experience telepath and wouldn't need to resort to such mundane flaring of his abilities to draw the attention of other psykers. But as the two allow their minds to linger, they both feel something red and malignant turning its gaze upon them, something that isn't quite Dukovich. Polonia feels it before Daizon is even aware of it, and when she retreats back to the fortress of her own mind, the sorcerous Rogue Trader follows suit, starting awake with a gasp. He looks at Polonia for a long moment before speaking. "Mostly just servitors out there, no defenses that I am aware of; this IS just a manufactorum and I would assume he thinks he's won at this point. He's doing something in the heart of the facility, but I can't tell what exactly; I imagine it has to do with his ritual." The rogue psyker pauses for a moment before pressing on. "There is something else in there with him, and I don't know if I mean that in regards to his mind and body, or just the room he's in. But I think it knows we're here and I get a feeling it isn't too happy to see us. I couldn't tell what it was but I know we won't like it." He gives a half-grin at this before shaking his head. "There's a few false walls between us and the Inquisitor, which should make things a bit quicker. Servitors should leave us alone; they're not going to be programmed to do anything but follow their blueprints and what not. " After a moment, he turns his head towards Davith, cocking an eyebrow at him. "I get the hate for me being what I am in terms of psychic power and whatever the Inquisitor has told you, chum, but you're getting too much of a chuckle out of the idea of filling me full of holes for being a rogue trader. You wouldn't happen to be one of those "eat the rich" underhive types, would you?" Rolled Psyniscience for Polonia, feel free to do any lore checks that you feel would be relevant. We'll get moving along pretty quickly at this point. Polonia Psyniscience vs 73: 1d100 47
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Jan 28, 2017 07:59
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Valencia and Julio both recall, rather vividly, that these sorts of facilities typically don't have much in the way of automated or pre-installed defenses; few people are keen on robbing factories that produce knives and other basic tools and utensils for the Imperium, and all of the security necessary comes in the form of the skitarii and other mechanicus assigned to the facility. It is, however, pretty well unheard of for there to be secret passages and corridors installed; Valencia knows the alteration of blueprints for facilities such as this is INCREDIBLY heretical, but it's likely whoever did such a thing is long, long dead. Polonia turns her mind to what she knows of daemons, and she knows that presence she felt before was daemonic in nature, likely Khornate in nature. She knows Khorne revels in slaughter, hungering for rivers of blood and mountains of skulls; exterminates on such a scale as the Inquisitor has been ordering would be most pleasing to the Blood God. Something aligned to Khorne is watching this ritual with keen interest, which would explain the intense hatred she and Daizon felt when its attention turned to them. With a similar amount of information, Loire can recall a time she busted up a Khornate cult, and how it was pretty much a slaughterhouse. The group presses forward, with Daizon in the lead; at every other corner bend, he stops at the wall to kick at one of the bricks, causing the wall to slide open. According to Valencia's mental blueprints of the facility, they were saving an amazing amount of time following the Rogue Trader's shortcuts, and bypassing a large part of the facility. After five such shortcuts, Daizon pauses, wincing in pain. Polonia feels a pressure in her own skull, a sign of the fabric of reality being thinned and weakened by the ritual. He continues to lead the acolytes deeper into the facility, and before long, even the least psychic among the group can feel as if everything is getting.. thinner. Finally, Daizon stops before the final shortcut, feeling at the wall for the final pressure plate. The air is filled with voices chanting in High Gothic, though neither Polonia nor Daizon can feel any other living beings beyond Dukovich. DIES IRAE SOLVET SAECLUM IN FAVILLA TESTE DUKOVICH CUM ALEXANDER QUANDO JUDEX EST VENTURUS DIES IRAE The sorcerer finally presses in the correct brick, and with a deep breath, he shoves the wall open. Before them expands the reactor heart of the manufactorm, where Dukovich hovers several feet in the air, his arms spread and his feet pointed to the ground as energy flares about him, arcs of lightning striking against the reactor from his fingertips. His cloak flutters behind him, a sheet of crackling flame, and the singing voices emanate from the thinning veil surrounding him. Daizon, furrows his brows and clenches his fists, glancing back to the others. "Come on. We need to end this." As the Rogue Trader steps forward, he and Polonia have only a moment for their psychic senses to catch wind of the sudden rise in power near them. Polonia is able to step back and keep the rest of the cell out of the way, but Daizon, fully exposed, turns his head to the side just as a massive, roaring column of superheated gas strikes him; Daizon's cry of pain and alarm is cut off suddenly, and when the blast dissipates, he is no longer standing before the doorway. A voice familiar to Loire, Zachariah, and Julio calls out from within the reactor heart, giving them pause and a moment of confusion. "Ha! To think, the two of you chased one another for so bloody long, and all it took to kill you was a fethin' melta gun." Polonia feels reality warp and rend once again, and In the distance, only a dozen feet from Dukovich, a man steps out from nothingness, a melta cannon resting on his shoulder. His armored suit is covered in intricate runes that make Polonia feel confused if she stares for too long, and she finds while she can see the man, she cannot SENSE the man. Dukovich's strained voice fills the air, his body contorting as psychic power flares up within him once more. "He is coming! Joseph Alexander, He is coming! I can feel the Emperor's spirit surging from beyond! Every accursed soul we cleanse from this world, it fuels Him! I can feel it, Lord Emperor, I can feel His glory!" Dukovich rants and raves as his body shudders, his hair standing on end and smoking from the raw power surging through his body. The man behind it all stands before them all, a man known to Zachariah, Loire, and Julio: "Farty" Joe Alexander. e: [01:44] <Schizotek> Alexander isn't dukovichs first name is it [01:44] <~Dyne> nope [01:44] <Schizotek> who da gently caress is alexander [01:45] <Schizotek> oh. [01:45] <~Dyne> lmao [01:45] <~Dyne> 'WHO IS ALEXANDER, TELL ME, I HAVEN'T READ THE WHOLE POST AND AM COMMENTING AS I GO' John Dyne fucked around with this message at 08:46 on Feb 1, 2017 |
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Feb 1, 2017 08:34
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Joseph turns as Julio addresses him, his eyebrow raising. "Huh. So the wizard had some friends with 'im, then, did he now? Well, you're too late! Without a bloody psyker, there's nothin' you lot can do!" He throws his head back to laugh manically, but his eyes bulge out of his head in shock as Polonia uses her powers, toppling a support pillar onto him. He screams out in frustration and rage as the ceiling lands on him, burying him in hundreds of pounds of debris. For a moment, the only noise in the air is the crackling of energy and cries of Dukovich, punctuated by the pitter patter of debris. Davith can only recall a family by the surname Alexander from their current system, but the majority had died during the exterminatus; there was only one who possibly survived, but he found himself lost to the warp centuries ago. As he ponders this, a hand shoots up from the pile of debris, clutching desperately at the freedom beyond. Joseph pulls him free, his head hanging limply to one side on a broken neck from which blood pours and bone is visible; his other extremities are just as damaged, shattered bone and viscera visible everywhere on him. The man's abdomen has burst, and he screams incoherently as he flexes a broken hand at the acolytes. "You fools! I wont let you ruin this! I won't let this Empire stand for another day! I will kill every last one of you!" The voice rings out amidst the gurgling cries and grunts of the mangled body, and to the horror of all, the man's wounds slowly begin to knit; his entrails slurp noisily back into his body, and sinew creaks and bone snaps as his body rights itself. After a mere minute, Joseph Alexander stands whole, his skin pallid and sunken, rotted teeth bared over diseased gums. Whether it be out of fear, urgency, or duty, the acolytes act as one now. Julio, Davith, and Loire bring their weapons to bear, riddling the man with a salvo of every form of weaponized technology available to the Imperium. A massive chunk of the man's skull vanishes from Loire's high caliber slugthrower, and holes are seared into his chest and throat by Davith's laser weapons. Julio follows up by blowing the man's arm off at the shoulder, and Joseph staggers back, remaining eye staring blankly forward. Something still animates his body, and he takes a plodding step forward, his skull beginning to slowly reform. Following the salvo, Valencia and Zachariah stagger their charge, the tech-priest slicing the regrowing arm from the man's body at its stump, and burying her other blade through his gut, disembowling him from the gut down. She lunges aside as Zachariah steps up, bringing his hammer around in a mighty swing, caving in Alexander's chest and sending his limp body flying. Joseph tumbles head over heels and lands face down in a heap. His body bulges and convulses oddly, his skin rippling and straining against what seems to be taloned hands. There is more to Alexander than meets the eye, and the acolytes have but a moment to prepare for the coming horror... Everyone takes 2 corruption and 4 insanity, reduced as necessary by talents. You get two free rounds to reload, set up spells, or whatever.
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Feb 12, 2017 21:54
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As everyone stands ready to face the threat, Alexander's back continues to stretch and distort, until finally two taloned hands punch through his skin and rip his torso clean in half, resulting in a spray of blood much larger than would be expected from a single human. From behind the red mist, two massive, feathered wings spread, and the shrill cry of some unholy bird fills the air. A staff manifests itself from nothingness and with a wave of the staff, the daemon dispels the cloud of blood. For a moment, the raw stuff of chaos itself roils about where the daemon should be standing. Glimpses of innumerable futures and countless points in history flow around the being, showing all that has happened and could happen in the very spot it stands. Where its eyes should be glow the embers of what are immediately understood by those looking as the cores of dead planets, stripped indefinitely of life. Its beaked mouth spreads in an unnaturally toothy grin, revealing what seems to be an infinite number of razor sharp teeth. Zachariah stands defiantly before the daemon, unafraid for his faith in the Emperor, and making no attempt to make sense of the anathema to human life that lurks before him; to him, he simply sees the daemon as beastly birdman, no more and no less. A being that can be fought, and as such, can be killed. Polonia, too, steels her mind with the mantras and lessons taught to her to stay her fear in the face of the unknown, but it is this dedication to ritual that lures her mind into attempting to comprehend the creature. For a fleeting moment, she sees her old instructor standing before her, twenty feet tall and ready to brand her over and over again, ready to test her faith in the Emperor against the powers that flow through her mind; the daemon's staff appears to her as the sanctioning brand that had at one point burned her flesh and sent jolts of lightning through her body, and part of her mind dredges up that ancient pain, sending a ripple against the bastion of sanity that keeps her together. This lasts but a moment, before she shakes the feeling off, viewing the creature as the bird-like beast it is. Davith and Julio, however, do not fare as well. Whatever stands before them, they cannot fathom or comprehend; all they see and feel are an ancient being comprised solely of fear and hatred, an unknowable and unnatural force whose only goal in its infinite life is to destroy all of reality. And here they stand, wielding only pistols in the wake of a being that has consumed the essence of destroyed planets, who has lived for longer than mortal minds could ever understand, a nigh-invincible and immortal being whose talons are as large as their bodies. Fear overwhelms them, and the two collapse in unison, crumpling to the ground as their minds shut down to protect them from the full horrors of the daemon. Valencia, being a mostly inorganic creature, does not feel fear in the face of the daemon. But her analytical mind gets ahead of her, and she tries to catalogue and understand the shifting flow of time and reality surrounding the creature; what organic parts of her brain remain feel the vestiges of sanity snap as her inorganic thought processing overheats in an attempt to grasp the creature's form. What looms before her in the fleeting moments before her mind comes around is a horrific amalgamation of man and machine, an unholy marriage of science and nature, bred solely to strip humanity of its advancements, a creature that hungers not just for the flesh of men, but for the cybernetics and bionics they hold as well; once she regains control of her senses, she sees the lord of change as he truly is. Loire's occult training comes under a full test at the sight of the daemon, and she leaves no one wanting; she steels herself in the face of the threat from beyond, methodically reloading her rifle to keep her mind occupied as she was trained to do.  Finally, the beast settles into position, anchored fully to this world. It leans on its staff, cocking its bird-like head curiously at the acolytes. Silence fills the air, muffling even the exalted cries of Dukovich and the cracking of warp stuff through his body. Only the rustling of the daemon's feathers can be heard, and its form ripples and shudders as it chuckles. "You six challenge me? Five pitiful mortals, and one who could command in my army were it not for her ignorance?" The bird's tongue lolls out of its mouth as it laughs, a hideous sound that sends ripples across the pavement. "You must jest!" The daemon stands to its full height, all mirth fading from its visage. "You may know me for the short remainder of your existence as Sephronia. Perhaps you would prefer to wait for my ritual's end, and see for yourself the glory that I bring?" Sephronia tilts its head again, and expecting no response in the positive, taps its staff against the ground thrice, reaching down to draw a wicked looking blade from the warp beyond. "So be it. I will sunder your minds from their physical anchors and show you the infinite stratagems planned for what you call 'reality.'" Start combat from here. Sephronia's TB is 21 against all non-force, non-psychic, non-sanctified attacks; it's only 7 against those attacks. It is at +20 to be hit due to its size. Everyone suffers -20 to WP tests to its daemonic presence. Davith and Julio faint for one round. Test for any trauma if you pass the threshold for it; Esser-Z will have only one trauma roll. Note you subtract your insanity points from the WP roll, and you ARE at a penalty due to the daemon. Zachariah Immune to fear. Guah?! Resist vs 33 Int: 1d100 72 Zachariah shows ignorance is faith. Polonia Polonia Fear vs 46: 1d100 44 Polonia resists fear. Guah?! Resist vs Int 51: 1d100 8 Polonia tries to comprehend Sephronia's form and suffers 6 insanity. Davith Davith Fear vs 7: 1d100 82 Davith Shock: 1d100+80 114 Faints for 1 round. Gains 4 insanity points. -10 to all tests until end of encounter. Guah?! Resist vs 56 Int: 1d100 97 Davith doesn't try to think too hard about Sephronia's form before passing out. Loire Loire Fear vs 40: 1d100 4 Loire resists. Guah?! Resist vs 61 Int: 1d100 78 Loire doesn't try to think too hard about Sephronia's form. Valencia Immune to fear. Guah?! Resist vs 41 Int: 1d100 8 Valencia tries to make sense of Sephronia's form and suffers 18 insanity. Julio Julio Fear Test vs 7: 1d100 34 Julio Shock Results: 1d100+30 108 Faints for 1 round. Gains 1 insanity point. -10 to all tests until end of encounter. Guah?! Resist vs 37 Int: 1d100 62 Julio resists the insanity of looking at Sephronia. Faint Duration and Insanity Gained from Fear: 2#1d5 1 1 2#1d5 4 2 Insanity Gained from 'Guah?!': 2#2d10 6 18
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Feb 18, 2017 02:35
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Confirming that this is true. I thought there was a power that would sanctify attacks but APPARENTLY NOT, GOOD JOB DARK HERESY 1.0 I'd balanced this encounter around you guys being able to use sanctified weapons, so yeah. He'll only have 7 TB to everyone who chooses to use that.
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Feb 22, 2017 19:16
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Fear 4
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Feb 22, 2017 20:01
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Sephronia screeches in pain as Zachariah's sanctified stake is buried into the creature's thin leg, the daemon taking a staggering step back and hissing at the priest. Polonia follows up with her force blade, leaping up to slash the daemon's stomach with her blade, biting deep into the thing's unnatural flesh. The demon flickers slightly from its wounds, sweeping its winged arm to try to scatter the acolytes attacking him. Loire takes aim, but her shot goes wide, and Valencia hesitates. The daemon's throat bulges to an enormous level, and Sephronia opens its beak wide, a beam of scintillating light bursting forth from the back of its mouth. Polonia's psychic senses go nuts as the attack is unleashed, and she is pulled out of the way by Zachariah; Davith and Julio, being prone, are missed entirely by the massive blast of energy. Loire and Valencia, however, are not so lucky; flames encircle the beam as it slams into Valencia and engulfs her, passing over her body like a tidal wave as it encompasses Loire as well. All sound is drowned out by the roar of energy, and when the beam finally dissipates, Sephronia reels back and gives a cawing cackle. Nothing remains of the two acolytes, save for molten puddles of metal from their implants and weaponry. They have been vaporized in their entirety. Davith stirs in the aftermath of the attack, propping himself up on an elbow and opening fire with his pistol; thanks to the prayers and rites of Zachariah, his bolts find themselves guided by the Emperor Himself, striking the daemon in the shoulder and causing it to shriek with agony once more. Once more, the edges of the daemon's form flicker and blur, and it glares angrily Even with the loss of two of their teammates, the fight seems to be going in their favor; Polonia can sense the daemon struggling to maintain a hold on reality. Sorry you two! I'm sick of nagging you two to post so RIP. You got Worf'd with a 95 damage, 14 pen Bolt of Change. When you guys ascend we'll maybe try to find two more people.Bolt of Tzeentch (TN 27): 10d10+7 64 14d10 tearing, 14 pen Unstable Roll (1 Half, 2-9 Normal, 10 Double): 1d10 2 Damage (Forgot Tearing): 28d10k14 95 Opposed WP vs 75: 1d100 53 Sephronia gains more DoS and negates the force damage. Righteous Fury on 9 Damage: 1d10 4 106/165 wounds
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Feb 25, 2017 03:21
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Julio's desperate onslaught peppers the hide of Sephronia, and the daemonic bird cackles as most of the shots bounce uselessly off of its daemonic skin; however, the plasma shot scores a hole in the bird's arm which allows for a single slug to piece the greater daemon's defenses, causing a cry of surprise and pain. Zachariah brings his stake around in a flurry of blows, but the massive bird demon flickers in and out of reality, making the blows miss their mark. Sephronia brings its staff down to catch the blows from Polonia, grinning wickedly at the little psyker. "I can taste your power, little sorcerer. I will make it my own before I end this world." Davith drops his bolt pistol to his side and draws his las pistol, taking careful aim and firing a single shot that strikes the tip of Sephronia's beak. It squawks in surprise and bats at its own face for a moment before letting out an infernal growl, flames wreathing its face. "Such impudence! Let me show you what sorcery is all about!" The bird raises its hands to its face, a sphere of crackling fire forming before its eyes. It bares its teeth as the sphere roils and spins, and Davith, getting an idea of what's about to happen, throws an arm over his eyes and averts his gaze. "FEEL THE BLINDING FLASH OF TZEENTCH'S GAZE!" The daemon's eyes widen in glee as the sphere detonates, and the resulting light sears the eyes of Zachariah and Julio, blinding them with its brilliance; Polonia's photo visor, however, darkens suddenly in reaction to the drastic change in lighting, preventing her from being blinded by the attack. Sephronia, however, lets out a horrified AWK at the fact it forgot to shield its own eyes against its attack; it rubs at its eyes, cursing in a daemonic tongue as it realizes it can't see poo poo. Everyone but Davith and Polonia are blinded for two rounds.  Sephronia dodges Zachariah and parries Polonia. Note: if you reroll with fate, Sephronia will negate it ONCE with Master of Fate; the daemon can only do it once per person per combat. Dodge Zachariah vs 74: 1d100 28 Opposed WP vs 75: 1d100 96 Force Damage: 7d10 32 Seph Parry Polonia vs 86: 1d100 6 Dodge Zachariah vs 74: 1d100 28 74/165 wounds left Blinding Flash Julio Agility Test vs 31: 1d100 73 Julio is blinded for two rounds. Zachariah Agility Test vs 31: 1d100 73 Zachariah is blinded for two rounds. Polonia has a photo visor and is NOT blinded. Davith Agility Test vs 44: 1d100 14 Davith is NOT blinded. Sephronia Agility Test vs 54: 1d100 96 Sephronia is blinded for two rounds. Warp Instability vs 75: 1d100 49
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Feb 26, 2017 07:58
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Still cursing in daemonic, Sephronia is able to narrowly evade Zachariah's lunging attacks, moving its feet in such a way that the gigantic bird somehow just avoids being stabbed. It brings its staff down as It feels Polonia's advance, just catching the psyker's blade with its warp staff. Sephronia squawks out in anger and frustration, its feathers ruffling as two shots go wide over its shoulders. "Enough! I tire of these games! I have made my mistakes and I have learned from them; feel the untold wrath of the warp!" The daemon spreads its arms wide as reality around its body cracks, pure warp lightning lashing out from the realm beyond. Sephronia makes arcane gestures with its arms and hands, drawing forth the lightning and thrusting it forth into the realm of man, filling the room with striking bolts of lightning. Polonia is struck hardest, a beacon to the empyreal power, catching the full force of one of the bolts before being glanced by a second; Davith, too, is struck hard, being the one who is most grounded at the moment, but luckily for him most of the power dissipates into the ground. Julio and Zachariah both receive weaker jolts from the warp lightning, and Sephronia cackles as the rift closes behind it. "Suffer, ye mortals, and despair! I command the purest powers of the warp, and you will falter before me!" The speech is dulled by the daemon blinking and rubbing at its eyes, trying to coax vision back into its eyes. All damage listed below is pre-TB and armor soak. Polonia suffers 11 and 17 damage. Davith suffers 11 and 10 damage. Zachariah suffers 10 damage. Julio suffers 11 damage. Seph Dodge Zachariah vs 54: 1d100 5 Seph Parry Polonia vs 66: 1d100 18 Bio Lightning vs TN 14: 10d10+7 73 Overbleed of 59. Every 10 overbleed, another bolt can be fired at a different target. 6 bolts total, two people get zapped twice. Decide who gets zapped; 1 is Zach, 2 is Pol, 3 is Dav, 4 is Julio: 2#1d4 3 2 Polonia and Davith suffer two bolts. Everyone else suffers one. Damage in this order: Poloniax2, Davithx2, Zachariah, Julio: 6#1d10+7 11 17 11 10 10 11
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Feb 28, 2017 01:37
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The daemon raises its hand as Davith fires, a shimmering field forming around its body briefly to deflect the focused laser strike. Sephronia grins from ear to ear as the field dissipates, spreading its wings to their full width. "YOUR WEAPONS ARE NOTHING! YOUR CORPSE GOD IS NOTHING! YOU ARE ALL NOTHING!" Sephronia bats the priest away with the end of its staff, giving off several cackling caws. "You will fall here, and the planet will fall with you! Through all of this, you have done nothing about your inquisitor! The one who would be the hero of your little tale is now your doom, and the doom of the sector!" Dukovich's body contorts wildly as power continues to surge through his body, and the air around him cracks and splinters and bulges ominously, giving a glimpse of the army that lies beyond, pressing against the fabric of reality, hungry to join the battle. Light and dark trade places for a moment, the shadowy areas of the room becoming brilliant as the floodlights cast a dreadful darkness over the room; within the blink of an eye, it returns to normal, but a shadow can be seen in the skylight overhead, and its arms swing down against the glass with a startling crash. Sephronia turns and cranes its head to look up at the skylight, and a skull sails down through the opening, firing the plasma gun in its mouth straight into the daemon's face and catching the feathers there on fire. Sephronia screeches in pain, dropping its staff to bat at the flames with both hands, staggering back away from the acolytes. The servo-skull putters back to Julio, hovering near its master and going back into its passive mode. As the daemon curses in its unholy tongue, the shadowy figure from above swoops down, his sword flashing in his hand as he drops down directly onto Dukovich, driving the blade into the base of the Inquisitor's neck. "Now! Strike now while the idiot daemon is distracted! Finish this fight!" Daizon whips his blade free in a spray of blood and leaps from the spasming body of Cornelius Dukovich, hitting the ground hard and rolling; Polonia and Julio, needing little encouragement to put the fight to an end, turn their attention back to the daemon. Julio's sanctified shells strike full on against the torso of the daemon, searing its flesh. Polonia sprints towards Sephronia, her blade flashing as she channels her full psychic might into the weapon. She uses her powers to propel herself through the air, putting all of her weight and might into a powerful thrust that pierces the dark heart of the Lord of Change. An unholy chorus of laughter and screams of pain full the air, and in its final throes, the daemon tries to swat at Polonia to crush her against the floor, but the psyker plants her feet against the daemon's chest and deftly torpedoes away, landing in a poised crouch. Once more the air crackles with power, rushing towards the wounded daemon. It screeches petulant threats and insults as reality beyond it splits into a vortex of flashing purple and blue lights, and Sephronia's feet are yanked from beneath it; it beats its fists against the ground, digging trenches into the concrete with its talons. "NO! NO NO NO! THIS IS WRONG! YOU'RE ALL WRONG! YOU ARE ALL IDIOT NOTHINGS! HOW?!" In a last ditch effort to take someone with it, it swings its open palm across the room, trying to grab on to someone; only Daizon and Polonia are within range, and both are able to duck the hand, and instead the creature grabs Dukovich. With a final scream that quickly dies to nothingness, the air turns to normal, and there is a faint and anti-climatic *pop* as the rift seals itself. Sephronia has been defeated, banished back to whence it came, and Dukovich's body has been dragged into the warp with it. The rogue trader shakily climbs to his feet, brushing his hair from his face. He looks to the acolytes and gives them a thumbs up and a broad grin, tapping his necklace. "Displacement field. Bloody lucky your servo skull has your name on it, Julio, and a return tracker on it."
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Mar 7, 2017 03:09
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Daizon leans forward now that the show is over, his hands on his thighs, and barfs onto the floor. He wipes his mouth with his forearm and frowns at the blood there, shaking his head at Julio. "Normally I'd say you're right, but it took a lot out of me to make it here and keep standing long enough to actually strike. If your skull hadn't shown up, I don't know how I'd have busted the window open." He takes a staggering step back and leans against a pillar, resting his head back against the stone. "I'm happy to take a fade, but I wonder how your schoolmarm will handle that idea." He gestures towards Polonia and gives her a sly wink. "I reckon she's one to hold up to her threats of getting me proper sanctioned, but at this point in my life, I think the Black Ships are just as likely to put a drill in my forehead and make me into a servitor. Waste of talent, wouldn't you think, ma'am?" He winces in pain, slumping down to a sitting position and sighing deeply. "Leave me be here, and I'll be gone in a day or so. Should be plenty of time to patch up. You can direct your lads up above to confiscate the golems I've got in the sewers and do what you will with them. With Dukovich stopped, I've got little use for them or the knowledge to make them." The Rogue Trader snorts a laugh. "Sure that sentence alone would be enough to chafe one of the Mechanicus." He finally takes a look around, counting heads. "Oh. I'm guessing your two friends there didn't make it. I'm.. I'm sorry about their loss, I truly am. Maybe not so much on the Arbite lass, but the lathe factor was a right sort." He brushes his bangs from his face again, looking up to the skylight. "Just let me know what you lot are doing. I've got no fight left in me for the moment, so what you say, goes. Just keep in mind what you've accomplished here with my information, and take pity on an old trader, will you?" Deisgradus gives a strained smile, before wincing in pain and slouching further down. "Throne bless me and I'll never bloody use that much of my mind to fly ten kilometers in ten minutes, I swear it now."
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Mar 7, 2017 04:32
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Xavier was in the Thunderhawk with you all when it got shot down. The vessel in orbit pretty much has no command staff on board since Dukovich and Xavier are both technically MIA.
John Dyne fucked around with this message at 07:39 on Mar 7, 2017 |
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Mar 7, 2017 07:36
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