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Sep 20, 2003
Can't post for 15 hours!

Anxious - 12:50am
Port Remonstrance

Aperta's entrance goes largely unnoticed at first, the spindly voidborn awkwardly jostling the door open with one robed hand and stepping inside the glorified drinking shed. Planks creak and groan under his weight, and by the time the Tech-Priest is inside and has straightened up, he has more of an audience. On the street, he has attracted more than a few curious stares - the Ourybian reverence towards those few machine cult members on-planet tends to be strongest among the toiling masses, with the under-scum taking a more practical stance. The assumption has been that he has places to go and things to do, and that those places and things are wholly unrelated to the Rookery; he's important, and not to be bothered, and so he doesn't really matter on a survival level.

The arrival of Aperta in the bar prompts a slightly more intense curiosity. The proprietor has let his lhostick fall from his lips as he slowly trails off from wiping a rag against the perspex glass in his hand; the card game in the corner has frozen; several chairs have shot back in alarm, and one of the solo drinkers is trying to make the sign of the cog without spilling anything or falling off his stool. Another drinker slouches back from what passes for the head, wiping his hands against his raggedy tunic, halfway through a belch before he takes in the scene and turns it into more of a distressed whine.

The voidborn gangles aimlessly by the doorway for a few seconds, before lurching off across the unpleasantly sticky floor, booming a question. His targets, wide-eyed and practically paralysed, manage to shudder out a response to the affirmative.

"Er. Yes?"


Barbarigo's Shop - 13:32am
Port Remonstrance

Seated at his writing desk, Barbarigo is ensconced in scrollwork. Heaps of books threaten to topple and fall, buring the acolytes beneath millions of tons of dusty paper, vellum, and crumbling silk from far before the dawn of the Imperium, predating mankind itself. Or so it appears.

"Oh no, I wouldbn't worry aboud any of that that, I think dhose boys just need a little time. The angry one's had his sweedheart signed over to a different krill trawler; he'll dbe lucky to see her once a year, if dhat, and he doesn't accept dhat id's nothing a letter can get her out of. Excuse me." With brisk hands, Barbarigo unfurls a battered, army-issue medpak from the bottom desk drawer, lying it on the towel in front of him. Taking a slug of the laced recaff, lifting the beard with one hand and slapping an analgesic patch onto his exposed neck with the other, he proceeds to snap his nose back into place with practised speed.

"Gnn. Agh. Right, what can-" It takes a moment for him to focus on the photograph in front of him, giving the acolytes a chance to glance around. Gamma has tried to take everything in, but this place is a warren of tomes; dusty leather spines peel from every corner of the room, many of which appear hand-bound. There's no particular warp presence in the area that could be considered out of the ordinary, although a random warp eddy does give her a sudden and uncomfortable awareness of a juvenile Leviathan idly sculling through the abyssal depths, on the other side of the planet. The psyker has a sudden and unaccountable urge for more krill, and to flex the second kilometre of her coils.

Bulworth, by contrast, has no such distractions, and immediately picks up the wood which the trees had threatened to obscure. There's no indication that most of these books around Barbarigo's desk are for sale; unlike the ones near the shopfront, these ones appear to be consulted with some frequency. Most of the spines appear to have titles like Scribe Clothario's Refutation to the Implied Theory of Syncrestic Ourybian Creation Mythology and the like; scholarly tomes, mostly centring around Ourybian mythology, history, and the interplay between the two. Of particular note may be a shelf of what appear to be minutes; Meetings of the Ourybian Brotherhood of Ecumenical Historians - Remonstrance Chapter, edited by a certain P. Barbarigo.

"Pollonia," the scrivener mutters sadly. He toys idly with his beard, distractedly. "It seems you know the how, then. Can I ask...?"

He continues, frowning.

"I shall try and help as best I can, then. I can't say she ever mentioned anything strange about her work. I don't know if you've ever met her but she is- I suppose I mean she was- not one for small talk. She mostly just... did design work for the Deculon family, really. They very rarely contracted her out, is my understanding, and when they did, it was for trifles; gardens for other dynasties, that sort of thing. I'm not sure she ever really had any clients, per se. Nor did she really have a chance to go around making any enemies. I always got the impression she wasn't much into people."

He drums his fingers a little, a little lost in reminiscence as the amasec-laced recaff starts to mingle with the painkillers.

"People have... rituals, don't they. Inefficiencies. Repetitions. Pollonia had a truly exceptional mind, even without her... additions, and she was always looking for new things to solve. Hmm? The Deculons mostly let her come here when her workload wasn't high enough, otherwise she'd go stir crazy. Tremendous capacity for synthesis, analysis; she's helped open up whole new inlets of scholarship into Ourybia's past... and I think she enjoyed it, too. Always seemed a little pent up if she'd not been able to visit for a while. That photo, it's from when she was able to visit three days running..."

There's an array of clumsy raps at the door, and a raised voice.

"Remonstrance Peace Corps. Investigating a disturbance. Open up, sir."

Looks like it may be time to make an exit.


Incautious, cont.
Hepaticon Estate - 21:50pm
Port Remonstrance

Max whiles away the time in his tower; an array of battered drinking glasses set in front of the ground floor door provide him with advance warning of any intruders from below, and a truly ancient armchair provides him with a bit of respite from the exertions of the past few days. Eventually he gets a response on the commbead; presumably someone's in the neighbourhood, or maybe they've just used the voxcaster on the boat, and he can stop repeating his message. He whiles away the time by loosening a slat from one of the boarded-up windows, and playing Spot-The-Hepaticon through the tattered gauze curtains. It is a slow, lonely vigil, but no worse than many watches he's stood in his life.

Round about 8pm, he retrieves his stummer, on the understanding that it's probably as charged as it'll ever be from those spent cells. Being summer, it takes some time for night to fall, and Max resolves to make his move around 10pm.

Turning away from the window in the dying throes of twilight, he is alarmed to see light flickering down the stairwell to the top floor. Glow-globe light; light that wasn't there a minute ago, that flickers as if something - or somethings - are moving in front of it. He cannot tell what or how many things are impeding the light; it's a spiral staircase up to the final floor, and all he's seeing is flickers. He cannot hear a thing from the upstairs floor; he cannot even hear the normal creaks and groans of floorboards settling, or the tower cooling in the summer evening.


for reference, cizneros died five days ago; this is the morning of the day after the autopsy, which was - i think - the third day after she died. you guys have pretty much three Ourybian weeks until the Fleet shows

gamma gets some bad rolls on awareness but is fine on scrutiny and psyniscience. bulworth, by contrast, smashes the awareness test instead. nothing heretical; this is all just scholarship, but it does give an idea as to his specialisms. it appears barbarigo is a historian in his spare time, and Cizneros was able to help out with synthesising the millenia of scholarship on the subject when she had time.

gamma: genuine grief at cizneros' death, but nothing excessive. fairly stoic, all told

max gets the best - best! awareness roll. stummer has approx 15mins charge left now, and something's happening upstairs


Viva Miriya
Jan 9, 2007
Max Flightmaster
Max subvocalizes as he gets off his chair and activates the stummer. ++I feth'd up and let something in. Someone's here with a light globe but they aren't making a sound, nothing I can hear. Assuming its a hostile contact. If I don't vox back in 5 minutes, come and get me out.++ Max starts to creep his way up the stair and move to the very top of the tower. Once he's there he'll "slice the pie" and ID whose in there. If they are human, he's gonna kill all but the most important looking one and take him prisoner. If they aren't, he's gonna kill them all and start screaming for help on the Vox.

Edit: Ok I tracked my Fate Point expenditure: I only spent two FP since we refreshed. FP this awareness please if possible.

Primary Combat Block:
WS  BS  S   T   Ag  Int Per WP  Fel  
35  50  30  30  40  40  40  30  20

Wounds: 8   Fate: 1/4  Initiative: 1d10+3
Half Move: 4 Full Move: 8 Charge: 12 Run: 24
SB: 3  TB: 3
Armour: 3 [Arms/Body/Legs]
Acrobatics: 40
Awareness: 40
Dodge: 40
Medicae: 40[50] (Medikit)
Security: 40[70] (Multikey)
Scrutiny: 40
Stealth: 40
Tech-Use: 40

Weapons: (Currently selected weapons are in BOLD)
Combat Shotgun 30m S/3/- 1d10+4[7] I Pen: 0 Clip: 27/27 Rld: Half Special: Scatter
Chainsword 1d10+5 R Pen: 2 Special: Balanced, Tearing

Noteworthy Talents:
Hip Shooting: Max may make a full move and standard attack with a ranged weapon at the same time.
Quick Draw: Max may draw a weapon as a free action.

Special Abilities
Close Quarters Discipline: An Imperial Navy character scores one additional degree of success on successful Ballistic Skill 
tests he makes against targets at Point-Blank range, at Short range, and with whom he is engaged in melee.
Rely on None but Yourself: A frontier world character gains a +20 bonus to Tech-Use tests when applying personal weapon modifications, 
and a +10 bonus when repairing damaged items
Sure Kill: In addition to the normal uses of Fate points, when an Assassin successfully hits with an attack, he may spend a Fate point to 
inflict additional damage equal to his degrees of success on the attack roll on the first hit the attack inflicts

Viva Miriya fucked around with this message at Jun 19, 2017 around 22:48

May 17, 2007

Hell Gem

Ignatius Malbau
A Rookery Barshack
Port Remonstrance

Aperta really was magnificent, Ignatius considered, as he slipped through the front door of the vaguely bar-like hovel. He'd learned something new, the last couple of hours: being not noticed was a hell of a lot easier when there was someone impossible to not notice leading the way. Under any other circumstance, the bottom-tier scum, semi-homeless, addicts, and assorted other seedy characters that adorned this drinking establishment would be gaping at the tall, voidborn stranger who had just wandered into their field of view unexpectedly, despite his well-prepared "disguse" of Rookery-appropriate garb. But now he might as well be invisible.

He resolved to let things play out a bit. Aperta was going to put these folks on edge, no matter what: perhaps they'd blurt something useful out of sheer confusion and shock. If not, then Ignatius would clean up - he'd provide these men with something familiar and comfortable to cling to by playing an expected role: someone mean, articulate, and discretely well-armed who wanted information and was willing to pay a bribe to get it.

They'd agreed this morning that, unless Ignatius specifically signaled him, Aperta was to pretend they were not together, and not acknowledge Ignatius' presence. Aperta could extend his senses into realms Ignatius could barely imagine: pulse rate, skin conductivity, microexpressions, and all manner of other bioinformatics were recordable by his servoskull and mechandritic attachments. But Ignatius provided an entirely different set of observational data, in that he... well, understood people. He might understand what was being carefully and studiously not said, through body language and other emotional cues that Aperta might be unable to interpret. Or failing that, he could at least grab anyone who suddenly decided to make for the door.

That was the theory, anyway. If the poor fellow got into too much conversational peril, Ignatius could intervene and rescue him.

OK, Ignatius is gonna use sneaky skills to get into the bar without being noticed by just walking in without fanfare, 20 seconds after Aperta. Call it Stealth (Ag), maybe. Then he's gonna passively use Scrutiny (+10) or Inquiry (+10). The plan is that if Aperta gets in trouble, makes no headway, or otherwise needs an assist, Ignatius will interrupt and start doing the questioning. If things seem to go well, then Ignatius will linger after Aperta leaves, and potentially buttonhole someone and question them, perhaps getting them alone outside of the bar somewhere. In either event, he'll mix Charm, Deceive, and Interrogate as needed. Probably that's to be played out in my next post.

Leperflesh fucked around with this message at Jun 21, 2017 around 06:07

Who What Now
Sep 10, 2006

Aperta Ignavus
Port Remonstrance
Rookery - Nameless Bar

If Aperta notices how is presence is affecting the patrons he either does not care or does not acknowledge it.

"As promised, I have come to finish what I could not before. Is there somewhere private that I could finish my examination of you? I wish to cure your illness before it can become an infection vector that could spread through the workforce, thereby keeping valuable souls from their holy tasks."


I want to take these guys somewhere with less people around where I can perform an in-depth medical scan of them to determine if they're mutants like I suspect. If they're unwilling then please roll whatever Fellowship skill you feel would be best, I'm Untrained in all of them.

Apr 24, 2008

I fucking hate puzzles.

Barry "The Bull" Bulworth
Office of the Scrivener Barbarigo
Port Remonstrance

With the knock at the door I knew that was my signal to leave. I let Barbarigo lead me back to the main section of his store. I put my mask on before walking back out to the main storefront, making sure I stop to shake the Scrivener's hand so the enforcer knows I'm not a threat. With that I tell him "Thank you for your time. I need to go follow up on some other leads. I may bring someone in to look at Cizneros' notes in a couple of days, if you don't mind. Good luck with your friend at the door." before I waive Gamma back over to me and we exit out the back door.

As we enter the narrow alley behind the store, I slow down my stride and look over to Gamma "I'm interested if we can get Aperta over here to go through Cizneros' notes somewhere down the line. What's your take on Barbagio?"

I stop before we hit the end of the alley and rejoin the main crowd of the market. "I need to go to my gal and do some shopping, wanna tag along?"


Making an exit out the back door to avoid the space cop. Making some idle chatter and then wandering off to my illicit fence, Maggie. If per GM fiat we're in radio range to hear Max's vox communication, now would be a good time for us to hear him SOS-ing. I may see if I can get a Grapnel and try and spring him from the tower.

DeathSandwich fucked around with this message at Jun 22, 2017 around 19:33

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