Overview

Rygel The princepts eyes narrowed, "The breach is your destination? Where is it located?"

The Officer frowns, then his expression shifts, unreadable. “Your Duty is to stay alive, for whatever your pressing mission is. If any of you Sirs come to harm then the entire reason for putting the ship at risk by pulling her out of dock before repairs were complete would have been for naught. I will give you the grace in the assumption that you did not stay in your secure location as ordered during an emergency because it was not as save as one would have liked, but that is no reason to be reckless.” “Our Duty is to protect the ship, are you going to hinder that effort?” The Armsmen subtly repositioned themselves. “ Or will you fall in as we sweep for wrap spawn on our way to meet up with other contingents at the breach site?” As he spoke you hear a vox crackle. The Officer reached up to his earpeace, then replied in some form of cant none of you knew. He then turned to his men with Orders in the same before turning to look back at you for your reply. Command fails, he has his orders and as far as he is concerned you do not outrank the ships Command Staff.

Rygel "The Great Work requires tasks us and guides us. Our duty demands we seek out the blasphemy and drive it back. We must reach the source of this breach of realspace that we might close it and as servants of this vessel your purpose here is to see our works done." The lack of contact to this point had vexed the magos, no call had gone out on the ships comms to guide the crew towards the enemy nor were those unguided holding each corridor and junction with their lives.

Between those areas of the ship sealed of due to the incomplete repairs of the gunnery deck, and those marked as hazardous by the current emergency the route you extract from the cogitator is a convoluted mess, but a route it is. Setting out with caution, Darius and his shield in front, Taw-Samek brining up the rear, you encounter no one for a good fifteen minutes, the corridors and stairwells empty of crew. Aside from the occasional scaring from weapon impacts, some of which may well have been old, you could think that you where alone, for not only did you not encounter any of the crew, it had gone eerily silent, the general emergency klaxon aside. After the first few minutes of this you pick up the pace, hast winning out. While the Nostalgia for Infinity was not a large ship it would still take time to get where you were going, and with a suspect breach time was perhaps not a currency anybody aboard had much to spend. You had covered about a third of the way when the crack of weapons fire rings out. It is only as you hear the shout of “Hold” that it become apparent that the Secutarii had braced, his shield having taken the impact. Ahead of you, emerging from a side corridor a squad of Armsmen men emerged, the two in the lead looking slightly sheepishly as the Ships Officer spoke to them. Turning to your little group the Officer called you over. “ You should have stayed in a secure locations Sirs, but as you are here fall in and we will not speak of the breach of protocol, on either side.” I am about to be away for two weeks(ish) so feel free to narrate your responses as you see fit. If you join up then you will be in the company of about 30 armsmen and an Officer, and if you do it is up to you where they were heading, in the same direction or elsewhere and whether the combine group now does. You could also try other course of action then joining up, and make your own way, or bunker down somewhere, or whatever, narrative is open ended as long as you go no further then the last sealed bulkhead door before the area that you believe contains the breach.

Tion "My Princeps, I'm tracking a route to the warp signature. Data should be available... now."

Tion While you never attain certainty the more you and Taw-Samek coax the cogitator the the more a picture of recent events suggest themselves. A momentary gellerfiled failure near one of the gutted gun emplacements moment before the ship exited the immaterium appears to have trapped a bubble of wrap energy in the empty space within the hull structure when the gellerfield re-established. Whether this was the source or merely a symptom was a different question, and one impossible to answer given the pressure of time and danger. To determine the fasted rout will require an Exceptionally Hard (- 40) Tech-Use. DoS will also provide information as to the safety of the route. Alternatively you can try to plot the safest route from the information as a challenging (+0) Tech-Use test. These figures already represents Taw-Samek assistance.

Tion Tion continued searching for the empyreal tear on board. Reports were streaming across the ship, filtering out mechanical malfunctions and minor psychic activity took a great deal of focus. He could feel his pupils narrow to pinpoints as he sought out the data that would reveal the nexus, the weak point that allowed physical insanity to materialize on their vessel. If he could find it, it would be a simple matter to give the quickest route to the others so they could truly strike back.

Rygel One of infinite, they sought to drive back the tide by striking at the water. "You take too long at your task, we shall not be bystanders to this affront to a vessel of the Omnissiah. The breach must be located."

As Rygel spoke the Devil shrieked. Perhaps to drown out words of faith and devotion, perhaps in pain, or simply for it’s own delight that a squishier prey had present itself. Who knew what thoughts dwelt inside the apparitions head. Making a lunge for Princeps however was a mistake, as Darius saw the shift in tension just in time to bulldoze shield first into the leaping devil, knocking it off target, into the wall. Lashing out with one hand to try and stead itself the Devil instead tore into the wall, four long rends followed the creature downwards as it collapsed. Rygel spun on the spot, no longer covering the door, whether by instinct and a glimpse out of to the corner of his eye, or by training and discipline the theun neatly moved the Princeps out of harms way. The Legion autopistol centred on and tracking the devil as it feel, the rat tat tat of a short burst echoed loud. For good measure the Secutarii, form his awkward position on the floor, followed up with a trust of the lance. On contact he then channelled all the build up electrical charge into the devil, and this time it seem to stick. For a moment. The Devil shrieked, the sound cut and were there had been an otherworldly fiend now there was electro-scaring and ricochet scrapes. As everybody seems to be busy (and or struggling with the currents B& C loading error phases) I have moved us on a little. We are back in full narrative time, so post as you see fit.

[REDACTED] OOC: Wrote garbage. Binned.

Gerbrand Speeches, why was it always speeches. He remembered how the Officials, Governors, Ministers and other Persons of Importance would waist half a day or more of each Hunt just giving speeches. Why travel all the way to the Imperial Forest to then not go out into the forest? If they wanted to waste hours of everybody’s time with words they could do that back in their Cities. With a start he realised that his mind had wondered and he had not paid attention. Nothing new in that by itself, but tuning them out then was one thing; not listing now could be lethal.

Cadfael A familiar sight, perhaps the first since he had been chosen from his world. The king before his cohort speaking of distant lands, vassals who called for aid or fell silent at the blade of another. War, perhaps even crusade, was the path that he had chosen for himself and fought loyally for his liege since he was but a child. And it was by war he had risen to this station amongst the stars. It was not what he had expected. Legends spoke of the giants who called to them the most noble warriors yet in him they had chosen only a survivor battered by war amongst a field of his foes. Instead it was a new king, for all his great might and the power he bestowed, and the same braggarts and eager killers and solemn warriors and the rest that he had seen many times on the eve of battle. The words of the first giant to speak to him rang ever true - "there is only war".

Rygel The Princepts levelled his pistol at the door while the Secutarii engaged the foe. "By flame shall the unclean be made clean, By fire shall the unholy be cast down. By our act and the will of the Omnissiah shall this ship be purged." He looked pointedly towards Tion and Samek "Seek the wisdom of the gellar field mechanisms." The first point of the tear is where the seal would hold strongest.

Daceon Thrace: It was a strange thing to share a body with what was tantamount to an alien organism. He wondered if the others about him ever thought about what was buried in their chests and neck. Between the two fleshy growths, there was the spliced harmony of one soul. He wallowed in the notion that it may be a bastardisation of the biological occurrence of gestational twins. There was more than that, though. He could sense - if he 'listened' closely enough - the voices of others subsumed, or perhaps superseded by the most recent. It wasn't a conversation, by any means, just a garbled mish-mash of background chatter from inside his body. Despite the nagging sensation of unilateral dislike emanating from the gourd-giblets, it was certainly a lot heartier than the incessant fingernails down the chalkboard of his mind. That is what it meant to be psychic, apparently. An eternal struggle to quieten the noise which could, if what Degier and his mental-mentors said was true (and he knew it was) turn into talons of aetheric origin, seeking to claw into his mind, soul and finally flesh. Aboard the Black Ship, Indefatigable, he came to know this, as well as many other truths. One such revelation was his capacity for learning, greatly accelerated by his strange and esoteric abilities. Some said his skill at concealing himself from the Neverborn was a gift, something which elevated him from his rudimentary peers - a choir of screaming imbeciles howling into the Beyond, almost asking to be devoured and unable to shut off the vox-mitter. At least some of those same people had called the powers a curse. Maybe both truths could co-exist. Reality and Formless did, after all. His conscious returned from wandering the vaults of the gone, to the tableau of now. Some small time before this bluster and bellow Daceon chose the moment in the path to find and sit up at the rear of the auditorium to rest his broad back against the circular wall. An unusually comfortable metallic hammock, all things considered, and the crate 'neath his nethers was just the right size. A tight smile. Yes, a gift, sometimes. He tensed and relaxed his muscles in sequence, as the biologers had instructed with his...newness. The fleshy things spoke to him, told him how to harness the trappings of war. One stroke of his fingers, a brush of mind, and understanding came. A riot of applause begat excited hubble from the keener group. Jostle and clamour of war-plate driven by fibre-bundles obscured some of it, but the ease of simple garments and the robe trussed about his mammoth frame diminished him not in the harnessed company. It was a handsome thing to be nine feet tall, with a breadth of ample shoulder to hang it all from. Perhaps that was why he was presented with Taranfollt. A wonder-weapon, a hand-and-a-half sword with flamberge-wrought blade - except for the tip, eight inches of razor-sharp, straight magsteel balanced in purpose and aesthetic by eight inches of ricasso, flared on the point side into short parrying hooks. An urge of something from that which was gone poked him. On his world, such a fine sword would be worth much horseflesh, iron, and beyond the ransoms of kings. It too was an alien thing. Unpowered, it was empty, save for the strange echoes of unreal memory and haunted labyrinths of psycho-reactive crystal. Indeed, rendered indestructible by will of artifice, it was destruction incarnate by will of self. A vessel for his spirit, the keenest knife. At present, his hands, and mind emptied to exload Talek Varn's commandments. Daceon's mind strayed not far from his skull, too busy locking all the doors and windows in the mental fortress. He physically shrugged the deep blue robe into something less like a sack, pleasantly amused by the jolly pale blue liner - a juxtaposition with the grim ash-grey and murderous-murrey wrapping his comrades. A presence fleeting pressed at the environs of Daceon's patrolled borders. The other 'Librarian' cast a glance his way before snapping out some epithet in High Gothic. Daceon's lips pursed. Yes, he would have to get round to learning that, too. Right after he'd digested the subtext of Talek Varn's latest endeavour.

Judging the angle of the swing just right the Secutarii adjusted his stance, feet planted to support the braced shield. Stepping forward to deflect and push the blade aside, the energy field whines on contact. For the slightest of moments it is as if the blade would cut right through, the bulk of the shield immaterial to the apparition’s strike, but only for a moment. Robed of its momentum and brushed aside the Secutarii saw an opportunity and struck with the lance. An awkward blow direct at the blade, enough however to wrench it from the apparitions hand. As it fell it cut into the floor, spark erupting from some power line beneath the deck plate that had been pierced. So disarmed the devil howled, and from somewhere there was an answer. Round Two.

Drekar The Lord spoke and told them of their mission. Reconnaissance and test in one, done by those considered somewhat expendable. Very well. If Talek Varn wished to see if Drekar and his fellows were competent, he would get his wish. The auditorium was large and the Astartes spread out. Veterans and new-bloods stood mixed yet apart, in both look and demeanor. Drekar kept to the edge of the gathering and watched. His scout armor was different than almost all of the others, clad in their MK VI suits of heavy ceramite. He was slighter and sleeker than them, carapace covered in a color-shifting cloak that blended into the background of any surface. His was a scout and assassin, first to find the enemy and first to spill their blood on the edge of his knives. He had been raised to do this, surviving the gang wars in his hive by stealth and sheer viciousness. The Iron Goods had given him further gifts and training, making him powerful and lethal beyond the understanding of the scum he had been born among. For that he owed them and would fight for Varn in his wars. Bring the tests and the trials and the challenges. Drekar of the Iron Gods was waiting.

Torrek The mental scarring he had endured to his psyche from the Rites, burned. Nothing had worked to tame his Anima. He held the Storm. He watched the others, the veterans, the elders, Talek Varn and the Teacher. He looked further into the shadows and saw Varn's dreadful shadow. Mharkad. He played with the Keys on his belt, to calm his mind. He looked towards Daceon 'the Learned' and then he looked around the cavern once more as he listened to the Briefing. "Khaos ite domum!" He hadn't meant to speak, it was the Storm.

Torrek's Character Sheet is complete. I couldn't work out Lifting as the Table only goes to 20 and Torrek's total SB & TB is 22. P150 - Mk VI armour gives a +10 increase to Agility. So I just added +1 to Agility Bonus. I couldn't decide on a Personal Trapping.

No worries, mate. If things change and you want to join later, that might well be doable? But in the meantime, @Machine God it looks like you get that 2nd Librarian slot if you want it! So, looking at people's sheets, have I got the following all correct? 1. Mazer - Daceon - Librarian, Feudal, Plotter, GS:7 2. Necro - Ormenos - Techmarine, Hive, Plotter, GS:8 3. Tro - Gerbrand - Tactical, Agri, Hunter, GS:1 4. MG - Torrek - Librarian, Feral, Brawler, GS:8 5. AT - Cadfael - Apothecary, Feudal, Firebrand, GS:1 6. Ikka - Drekar - Assault, Hive, Savage, GS:5 6 is a nice solid squad, and we've got a good mix of Archetypes and backgrounds, but if anyone else still wants to join in, please do post and let us know! Edit: As previously mentioned re the Geneseed rolls, I'm going to randomly assign the 9 Loyalist gene-lines a number between 1-10. The last number will represent something more... chimeric... or even traitorous. But you won't know which you've got unless/until it comes up in the course of the game! Interesting that a few of you have some of the same choices and roll results... these should create some good potential for interaction?

/snip @Machine God ”My Librarian and Tactical are written down on paper. Just waiting for @Xin Ceithan availability to see if he is playing “ I really appreciate that but I am sadly still boggged down by RL issues - so don’t wait on me. Go ahead and get yourself knocked out !

I believe Drekar is also good to go, pending the Geneseed roll of 5.

Darius Parry Test Target - 54 Roll - 44 Result = Pass, 1 DoS

Brother Cadfael is good to go I believe.

My Librarian and Tactical are written down on paper. Just waiting for @Xin Ceithan availability to see if he is playing