The Emperor's Lament [DH] Chapter I: Shattered Hope

[Dosjetka]

=][= The Emperor's Lament =][=

 

+] A Dark Heresy Campaign -- Chapter I: Shattered Hope [+

 

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Posting rules and guidelines:

• Plain text = unspoken description of events, environment, atmosphere, etc.
• "Italic text with quotation marks" = direct vocal speech
• ~Italic text between squiggles~ = direct "manual" speeh (ie. sign language, battle cant)
• +Bold text between plusses+ = direct psychic speech (ie. telepathy)
• Orange text = out-of-character comment, generally meant for the GM, used to communicate when a player wishes to take a characteristics test, etc.
• Text in a "hidden" tab = content only meant for a restricted number of players, whose names will be clearly marked in bold writing directly above the "hidden" tab

Example below:

Hidden Content

“Feth!”

 

As Xenthia ran down the dark corridor, enraged cultists at her heels, she pulsed a short message to Regoth.

 

+Need help hab level four urgent bring guns+

 

She hoped that the message was as comprehensible as she intended. Her current stress levels and “peaceful” situation didn’t allow for much concentration.

 

* * *

 

Regoth was pacing back and forth in one of the many alleyways of hab district Zeta with Mentark standing nearby, watching him. He suddenly froze, sensing an incoming psy-burst. After a few moments he cleared his throat loudly, catching the other man’s attention.

 

~Female danger fastmove violence~

 

They didn’t know if they were being observed so he used the rudimentary battle-cant that Mentark had the patience to teach him, hoping that he hadn’t made a mistake.

 

[For the] GM: Characteristic test (Int) for Cipher (Yrred Battle Cant) Skill

• When posting, try to write in a style consistent with the rest of the game. Your posts should be written in third person, and in the present tense. 
• Be considerate when using other players' characters - try to coordinate via PM or in the OOC thread as much as possible.

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Used annexes:

• Story thread (do not post if not player or GM): this thread.
• Datafile library (do not post if not GM): http://www.bolterandchainsword.com/topic/322645-the-emperors-lament-dh-datafile-library/
• Out-of-character thread (open to all, even non-players): http://www.bolterandchainsword.com/topic/322132-the-emperors-lament-dh-ooc-thread/
• Google Drive folder (for GM and players only): https://drive.google.com/open?id=0B0xojTv9qHpNWHB3Z1p0NHA5azA

 

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Table of contents:

 

CHAPTER I: Shattered Hope

Part I: Port Wrath

Part II: Gorgonid Mine

Part III: Into The Darkness

Part IV: The Shatters

Part V: Aftermath

 

+ + + + +

 

CHAPTER II: [RESTRICTED DATA]

[Dosjetka]

731.M41

 

'Against all expectations.'

 

Those were the words that came to mind when you mentally went over the last few weeks of your life. To be perfectly honest you had never realised that eyes, both physical and ethereal, had been gazing down at you until it was too late. One moment you were going about your business such as it was, the next a package was thrust into your hands by an unknown individual who was too quick for you to even catch a glimpse of. After removing the thick brown paper you discovered a small rectangular box which seemed to be made out of some sort of black plastic. Inside were two things: a symbol on a thin chain and a letter within a sealed enveloppe.

The symbol was instantly recognisable and filled you with dread. Why had you, of all people, attracted the eyes of the most Holy Inquisition? Was it something you had said? Or something you had done? Or were unknowingly about to do? With those worrying questions firmly lodged into your mind you break the seal and read the letter. Rather suprisingly there were only a handful of words printed onto the yellowed piece of paper.

 

 

=][=

 

Port Wrath, seventeeth day of the third month, by Terran standard

The male in black robes with the mark of the Ordos above his eyes

Where the steel beasts rest before delivering the Emperor's Wrath

 

=][=

 

+ + + + + + +

 

The voyage to Port Wrath had not been a simple matter. Travelling through the sector had never been a straightforward endeavour but recent political events hindered travel even more than usual. The Lord Calixis had passed away and there was fierce debate about who should succeed him. Even though his long-standing aide, Marius Hax, was the obvious successor, there was strong opposition from a coalition of Scintilla's noble houses. Whatever the outcome there was sure to be blood split in the high spires of the sector capital...

 

After meeting on the appointed date at the appointed place with a man in black robes, you expected to be taken away and ruthlessly tested by the agents of the Inquisition, your minds torn apart by psykers to uncover any taint that might be hidden within your soul, your bodies stretched to their limits by physical tasks to great to even imagine. Instead you were each guided by a tracked servitor to a small windowless lounge in one of the many backalleys of Port Wrath. Once there you took a seat on one of the comfortable couches in the centre of the room around a low table. Others passed through the same door, each accompanied by the same servitor, all keeping their silence as if untrusting of their tongues. A few hours passed and the man in black robes reappeared. He handed you all a dataslate and suggested that you pass the time by going through its contents before hurridly leaving the room. The data is unclear in many parts but you understand that the individuals described here were the very ones sitting around you. All were now a part of "Cell Prasinon", whatever that meant...

 

Now is the chance for you to start talking among yourselves. Keep in mind that the information on the dataslate is a summary of your backstory and character sheet, compiled by an Inquisitorial scribe, so may not be exactly like what you have submitted. Obviously this also means that your knowledge of the other characters extends to what is contained within the storage wafers of the dataslate and any interaction that happens after this.

Lastly, before you post, make sure you have read the posting rules and guidelines in the first post (above this one).

May the Emperor watch over you!

[Morovir]

Dariel Krell looks around at the others, taking them in. He asks the question that has been on his mind for a while.

 

"Why are we here?"

[Olis]

Brother Prismatica eyed the others. He ignored the one named Dariel momentarily. Spying another member of the Machine Cult, he spoke to him using Lingua Technis.

 

"Assertion: You know no more here than any of us do. Is that correct?"

[Charlo]

Luther was busy digesting the contents of the dataslate when he overheard the distinctive sound of Lingua Technis. He had not taken too much note of the other individuals gathered in the room, but it seem that one of them was also a servant of the Omnissiah. A somewhat welcoming sight, he supposed. Vox operator set to low - Luther let out his digitized reply:

 

"Affirmation: My knowledge is limited to the same data slate that...

 

Luther coughs heavily, the discordant fusion of bionic and organic sound filling the room around them.

 

He composes himself and continues.

 

...you all hold in your respective hands."

 

"Conclusion: You are designation Boolean Prismatica?"

 

Luther had decided to waste no further time to see if he could gain some common ground among the group.

[Olis]

Boolean inclined his head.

 

"Affirmative. I am indeed Brother Prismatica."  Boolean sidled next to his fellow tech-adept. "Query: Are you identified as Brother Ionsight? Or do you wish to use an alternative cognomen?"

[Charlo]

​"Acknowledged. I shall refer to you as Brother Prismatica in subsequent exchanges."

 

Sensing no ill-manner from his fellow servant of the Machine God, Luther adjusted his position to make room, as a gesture of good will to Brother Prismatica.

 

"Full Designation: Luther Comtense Epsilon Designatio Ionsight. I have no preferential cognomen, but standard Imperial social etiquette may dictate which you may need to utilize when more knowledge is available to us on our current situation."

 

Luther paused, then carried on, suppressing his cough.

 

"If forced to designate however, either my first, tertiary or final name would suffice." - Luther/ Epsilon/ Ionsight

 

He then turned his red-visored eyes towards designation Dariel Krell, and spoke in a more inviting language - low gothic:

 

"Apologies. It would seem neither of the Omnissiah's servants know anymore than you do."

[Conn Eremon]

Grim couldn't help but be perturbed by the contents of the provided dataslate, not the least because of the information on himself that was within. Not just one, but two Techpriests. Arrogant scions of a distant, irrelevant world that somehow believe their peculiar cult lends them greater insight into all things technological, even in the face of one who had spent their entire life handling and operating said technology. There's such a thing as "specialist skills," but Grim learned the hard way that Techpriests do not take kindly to having that obvious little truth explained to them. As if that wasn't enough, there was also an arbites among them. Never let it be said that Grim places a dim view of Imperial law, whatever that slate says about him, but in his experience there are few with a dimmer view than the Arbites. So-called "enforcers" that would rather pay others to do their dirty work for them, whatever the ulterior motives of those hired and whatever the collateral damage inflicted by the untrained or uncaring. Then there was some kind of assassin, because apparently that's a real profession real people have, and this Caral person, whose defining trait appears to be pure zealotry. Probably means that anybody who fails to match up to her insane criteria of religious devotion is at best disdained, at worst thought heretical.

 

Grim read and re-read the portion on himself, and wondered at who had written it, or gotten the information. Each of his "mental attributes" were cautioned against? Caution, this person is of a stable psychological state? Grim bristled at being summed up as a "lock-breaker," but understood that to an uneducated layman there might not be much of a difference. Not to mention, it had some details Grim himself wasn't aware before that moment. Well, Grim wouldn't get any more information by silently reading the dataslate. Time to put those abnormally well-developed social skills to test then.

 

"Summoned to Port Wrath to integrate Cell Prasinon. That's what each of our files say, at the end. Can't see the full picture from here, but it looks like we're in here because someone out there wants a team. Which does beg further questions. Who wants a team of us, and why did they select us? What do they want us to do?"

[Morovir]

Conn, the enforcers are different to the Adeptus Arbites. The enforcers are who you mention here, who are generally loyal to the planetary govenor and can be as corrupt as you mention, and deal with petty crimes, but the Adeptus Arbites are far more strict than that, and are generally more highly trained, and adhere firmly to the Lex Imperialis, dealing with higher forms of crime, such as those listed in the Book of Judgement.

 

Dariel Krell narrowed his eyes at the one he assumed, from the description on the dataslate, to be one Grim Wollsey. He believed that he would have to keep an eye on this one, for it stated that he had a 'relaxed view of Imperial Law'. Such a sentiment should not be tolerated. Relaxed views led to a tolerance of deviations from the Lex Imperialis, and that could not be accepted. Choosing his words carefully, he replied.

 

"Well, from the symbols of which I have no doubt that all of us received, I presume that we have been summoned by one of the Holy Ordos, for a purpose that I would presume to be of some form of heresy, that would warrant all of our...individual talents."

[Charlo]

Luther listened to the mere-men speak. One an "Enforcer" of the Emperor's will to his low-level subjects and the other one such individual of that description, albeit with some strength behind him - or so his datafile indicated. What sort of task would the Inquisition have for them that required such individuals, as well as two servants of the Omnissiah - Boolean a weapon-smith and himself a Heretek-Hunter? Whatever it was, it was currently beyond even Luther's grand logistical ability to calculate.

 

He stood up to address the group, including the few members who has thus remained quietly:

 

"Assessment: One Assassin, One Enforcer, One Missionary, Two of the Omnissiah's trusted servants and One... Lock-Breaker."

 

Luther let his announcement sink in for a few moments before finishing - not after a hearty cough of course.

 

"Taking our skills into account It would be logical to assume we have been sanctioned to enter a facility and recover some Technology. Potentially Heretical in nature."

 

Luther twisted his head towards Boolean.

 

"As a fellow member of the Machine Cult, would you find my assessment a fair deduction, Brother Prismatica?"

[*Furyou Miko]

"That's a difficult thought." Caral chimed in, having been quietly observing the others. Her low gothic was almost completely accent-free, although she tended to roll her /l/s and /r/s together, and sounded a little like she was chewing on something. She'd flinched slightly at the flowing techna-lingua communications, but the priests had taught her, however reluctantly, that there were yet true believers amongst the half-heretical Mechanicus.

 

The arbite was... different. He was intimidating, in the same way the Sisters at the shrine were. He looked like he might get on well with them, actually... which wasn't reassuring in the slightest, since they had always been quick to point out when her country heritage was showing... or her eyes, which while normal on Malai, apparently made her stand out like a third thumb in the rest of the galaxy.

 

Grim seemed like much more her kind of person, although his glance her way after reading what she assumed was her profile in the document made her wary. Then again... she read his file again. He was probably looking down on her, that was all.

 

"So. We're a good size for a hunting party... Mr. Krell's presence implies we might be expecting trouble as well. I don't think there's any point trying to guess our purpose, so why don't we do introductions? Reading it in a file is no substitute for talking together, right?" She smiled, hopeful and earnest. "By the Emperor's grace, I am Caral. I'm a fair hunter, a passable pilot, and one day I hope to travel outside the Imperium to bring the Word of the Emperor to the unenlightened planets of the periphery." She looked at Woolsey, encouragingly.

[Olis]

Boolean allowed the Ministorum representative to finish speaking before agreeing with Ionside.

 

"I concur that it is the most statistically likely mission based upon our individual occupations, Brother Ionside. However," he continued, "we must allow for other factors and mitigating circumstances. As of yet yours is only the most likely theory." 

 

Regarding Caral with a long and less-than-sociable stare, Boolean accessed his memory core. Not much information had been inloaded about Malai, except the current wealth of data skimmed from the Missionary. Accent, dermal melanin content, genetic deviance, likely diet... the list went on. Personal details were filed along with each of the others in the room while the abstracted data was compiled within other, more relevant files. 

 

He blinked. The others were looking at him strangely.

 

"I am Brother Prismatica." He intoned. "And but a humble servant of the Omnissiah, though some of you may find it of interest that I am a competent weaponsmith."

[Commissar Molotov]

The assassin had stayed quiet as the other occupants of the lounge - his apparent colleagues and compatriots - fumbled around to introduce one another. The mess of ego and artifice held little interest to him; he had been summoned by an agent of the Emperor, and so was bound to obey. He had not trained for such a summons; had never truly expected it. The masters of the Rake had beaten pride out of him at an early age. 

 

He wore a shabby pilgrim's robe, and to some may have seemed like a simple traveller of the puritan way. And yet, one looking closer might see the armoured bodyglove beneath, or the sheathed sword at his hip. He was no stranger to spilling blood in the Emperor's name. He would wait to see an individual of consequence, one who might be able to tell them what was happening rather than wasting time with guesswork. 

 

When prompted to speak by his fellows he scowls slightly, before briefly intoning in accented Gothic, 

 

"I am a Talon, of the Rake." 

[Conn Eremon]

As Grim was sure everyone else was doing, he examined the others as they spoke up after him, while trying to keep the conclusions from showing on his face. The enforcer, Krell, was clearly eying Grim with suspicion. Which, of course, made him the suspicious one. One of the Tech... men? Who could tell? had stood up, perhaps as an attempt to assert leadership or perhaps unaware that it could be taken as such a display. The zealot was more interesting, what with those eyes. The dataslate had mentioned it, but he hadn't really considered the full import until they had been directed at him. They were something new, something different, something definitely not normal. A mutation. For a fanatic to have such a visible impurity was a good thing. It meant there was room for self-doubt. Source of common ground, at the very least. First time Grim had ever seen a mutant, but at least she didn't have a third arm growing out of her forehead like the priests back home always ranted on about. The other Coggy confirmed that the two were more interested in each other than the "team," and with those static blasts they kept tossing at each other could very easily have an agenda they're unwilling to share. The assassin looked irritated that he had been interrupted from nothing at all, so that guy clearly wasn't normal.

 

"Maybe it's not just for one thing." Grim said, cutting the awkward silence following a Talon's introduction. "It's a good deduction, considering my profession, the strong Martian presence and the representatives of Imperial law and faith. And I suppose we wouldn't need an assassin if we weren't expecting trouble. But if this is a team, it's a rather well-rounded one. A team made for a specific task would have been tailored to that task, right? Rather makes me wonder. Whatever it is we're here for, perhaps it's more complicated than item recovery. But I suppose Caral here is right, no use guessing. Real introductions are in order."

 

From his relaxed, forward-sitting position, Grim looked at each of the others as he mentioned them, nodding at Caral toward the end.

 

"Name's Wollsey, Grim Wollsey. I'm a security specialist. Before the uh, incident you've all read about on that 'slate, I was a chauffeur-guard. I didn't simply transport my family's clients from place to place, my job was to keep them alive and healthy. I assure you, the need for caution was necessary on my world. I was also utilized to test the security systems put in place by my family or others. That often meant overcoming systems that I did not assist in putting into place or was altogether unfamiliar with, but I was good at my job and a rather highly sought after commodity by clients who wanted to ensure the safety of themselves, their property, and their Emperor-given authority. That's what I bring to the table. I have proven my worth on my world, and I can prove it here. If the God-Emperor's holy Inquisition wants us to get into some place, rest assured I can do that."

 

Grim's face split into what he hoped was a disarming grin. "And I welcome the challenge. Bit boastful sounding I bet, but we were all called here by some very powerful people. I'm sure everyone else here has an equal, if not greater, contribution?"

[Charlo]

Luther took in all of the other individual's introductions, his internal machinery letting off a slight whir as he added the scant useful information that there was into his cogitator-banks to flesh out their rather empty personal files. His mind did stutter at the thought of a Mutant-Missionary. Luther cared little for the details of the standard Imperial Cult, it being an inferior belief system compared to the teachings of the Machine and Motive Force, but surely such an individual was an affront to this ideology... Or perhaps it was the exception that proved the rule...?

 

Before he could deduct further Grim Wollsey began to blurt out again, listing off his accomplishments and skills. Perhaps Luther had underestimated this individual. Knowledge was power after all and he was providing enough of it, but whether he was astute to share this or just a fool driveling was yet to be determined by this servant of the Machine god.

 

Wollsey finished his... "Speech" suggesting the other members of the group follow suit and list their talents. Luther wasted no time in letting the group know his convictions. His deep and distorted voice reverberated around the room in well spoken Gothic, occasionally interrupted by his now obviously signature cough.

 

"I am designation: Luther Comtense Epsilon Designatio Ionsight. Source of manufacture: Infernum Prime. Occupation: Agent of the Prefecture Magisterium. Duties: The pursuit of purity within the Machine Cult, all Hereteks will and must be eliminated. First-level affronts to the Omnissiah will not be tolerated. Previous Occupation: Enginseer to the God-Machine manufactorum of House Ferrum Mortum of Infernum Prime."

[Dosjetka]

"Well, it looks like our Acolytes have managed to get chatting after all."

 

The feminine voice has an amused edge to it. As you turn to find the source of this comment, you notice a pair of tall figures advancing at a steady, measured pace towards you from the shadowy back of the room. The unexpected arrival of these two unknown individuals immediately stifles your conversation.

 

"Oh. I think I spoke too soon."

 

The tall, slender woman ended her remark with a half-smile and a short chuckle. The soldier accompanying her doesn't seem to be the slightest bit amused.

 

You all rise from your seats and move towards the edge of the nearest couch in a jumbled semi-circle.

 

"Acolytes, welcome to Port Wrath and Cell Prasinon. I am Lady Orlean, servant of the Holy Ordos, and this -"

 

As the pair continue walking towards you, she gestures nonchalantly to her stern-faced companion.

 

"- is First Captain Nicodemus, equally a servant of the Inquisition. We shall be your direct superiors and mentors for the forseeable future."

 

As they draw near and into the light, you notice how strinkingly different your mentors are are: Orlean stands a good few inches taller than Luther and over a head taller than Caral. Her porcelain white skin is marked on both face and arms with a complex pattern of blazing orange and ice blue tattoos. Amber feline eyes peer curiously at you, settling on each and every one of your for a few moments. Black hair streaked with pure white, tied into a thick plait that starts just above her forehead, crosses her otherwise shaven scalp, ending at hip height. Her torso and legs are clad in a matte black bodyglove over which sits armour of curious and decidedly non-Imperial design. On the black belt that sits across her waist hang two holsters, each containing an ornate-looking pistol with an unusually elongated barrel.

Beside her, Nicodemus stands two inches taller, clad in khaki fatigues over which sits a full suit of weathered carapace armour with a distinctive olive green, white and red-brown pattern. A holstered matte black hellpistol is attached to his right-side thigh while a sword hangs from his belt, unsheathed, alongside various pouches. From under a pronounced eyebrow arch purple eyes study each of you in turn with a steely gaze. His gaunt features and pale leathery skin criss-crossed with scars and mottled in place with dark bruises, give him the appearance of a man who has gone to the depths of Hell and returned while his shaved head, stern gaze, and aquiline nose tell you he is a man who will tolerate no foolishness.

 

"Now, there has been a slight change in plans. Your previous assignment will have to wait until something more urgent is dealt with. But before I start giving out more details, I believe that the First Captain has a few points he would like to... discuss."

 

The sarcastic emphasis is clear to all.

 

"Indeed."

 

Nicodemus steps forward to stand in the centre of the group, only about a metre from any one of you, straight as an iron rod. He looks at each of you once more before speaking in a clear, deep voice.

 

"First of all, I say things once and only once. No exceptions. With that in mind I suggest you keep your ears sharp when either of us talks to you."

 

"Secondly, you will address both Orlean and myself as 'Lady' and 'First Captain' respectively at all times. No exceptions. Despite what you might have individually experienced in your previous lives, we are your superiors and you will show us the respect we demand."

 

"Lastly, for this Cell to be able to function correctly it needs a leader through which the information flows both upwards and downwards. This leader, who shall henceforth be known as the 'ekadaros', shall be the sole point of transmission between us and the rest of the Cell until either of us decides otherwise. If we have any information for the Cell we shall relay these directly for the ekadaros who is then responsible to share this information as he or she sees fit. Likewise, if you have any queries or comments, you shall share these with the ekadaros who will in turn relay those points of concern to us. It will be up to the ekadaros to assess the importance and pertinence of such communications; wasting the time of an Inquisitorial agent with petty concerns is not recommended under any circumstance. No exceptions."

 

He pauses and locks eyes with each of you in turn to acertain that your attention is fully on him and that you have understood what he has said so far. After completing his inspection he nods, satisfied. Lady Orlean, who during the First Captain's monlogue had slipped away and positioned herself directly opposite Nicodemus/behind you, breaks the heavy silence.

 

"Apart from having the tedious but crucial job of acting as the Cell's vox unit, the ekadaros is first and foremost a leader. Regardless of your personal opinions or how right you think you are, the ekadaros' word is final. What he or she says, goes."

 

The Lady stops for a moment, flashes a devilish grin and ends with a "No exceptions".

 

The First Captain, unamused as ever, continues in his gruff tone.

 

"Having previously assessed all of your profiles and overheard your various introductions, we have a clear idea of who should be the Cell's ekadaros. We will however remain silent for exactly a minute, in case one of you wishes to take the initiative and volunteer themselves."

 

He crosses his arms and waits, observing the group, chronometer ticking.

 

It is up to you to now either stay silent and let your mentors decide who shall lead the cell or pipe up and assert yourself as the group's ekadaros. You are allowed to discuss this via PM (if you wish for me not to see your decision-making process) or in the OOC thread. Whatever you do, I would like a post from each character detailing their reaction to the introduction of their mentors and the rules that have now been set. Inner monlogue, thoughts, facial expressions, shifts in body language; anything goes. You are however requested to keep your characters silent unless they have a bursting question or wish to volunteer themselves.

[Commissar Molotov]

Talon stood warily, taking the opportunity to gauge these two new individuals. He had no intention of becoming leader - he was a weapon to be wielded against the Emperor's enemies. 

 

Nicodemus seemed a worthy threat, designed to weather the enemy assault and return it threefold. The assassin studied him, examining his impressive armour for weaknesses. His companion, the Lady Orlean, would be easy to dismiss - which made her the deadlier threat. She had demonstrated her ability to strike from an unexpected angle, in much the same manner that the Rake taught its aspirants.

 

(Awareness (PER, +0) test to detect Orlean's repositioning - if failed, Talon is impressed by her ability.) 

 

The Talons disseminated among the pilgrim trail would disguise themselves among the faithful, operating as a blade among the crowd. Many of their tenets stressed the importance of remaining unseen, unnoticed and unremarkable. The pilgrim's robes he wore were testament to that philosophy. So were the many hidden knives and blades he wore. Standing before these diverse individuals and claiming leadership ran contrary to those principles. No exceptions, indeed. 

 

It didn't seem likely that either of the Mechanicus thralls would lead, lacking the ability to interface with the wider populace of the Imperium. The missionary and the dreg similarly seemed ill-suited. That left the Arbitrator. Talon took the opportunity to observe each of his fellows, attempting to gauge their reactions to the poisoned chalice being offered to them. 

[Dosjetka]

Talon [PER 32 (no modifiers)] vs Orlean [AG 58 (includes +10 Silent Move bonus)]

Dice roll (1d100): Talon [70] vs Orlean [20]

Three degrees of failure for Talon results in him not only not seeing Orlean move but also him being taken by surprise by her sudden reappearance behind the group.

[Morovir]

Krell stared at the two new occupants of the room. He liked the look of Nicodemus already, the heavy carapace armour reminiscent of that of the Arbites, and his gruff, no-nonsense expression suggested somebody who would brook no deviation from Imperial Law. But Orlean...Orlean was a different story. Her armour gave a distinct impression of non-Imperial manufacture. That suggested an unhealthy interest in xenos technology - something that he would consult the tech-priests on to see if they had anything further to add - and any form of xenos sympathy was a crime as dictated in the Lex Imperialis. If she had not been a servant of the Inquisition, he would have had her arrested and handed over to the Chasteners for xenos sympathies. Nevertheless, he would have to be cautious - there was only so far even a servant of the Inquisition could bend the law before actions had to be taken.

 

After hearing what the two of them had to say, he kept his silence. They had already decided who was to be the 'ekadaros', and to volunteer would only serve to embarrass himself and make him appear self-aggrandising, and so distance himself from the rest of the cell. He had already lost one group of comrades due to his actions - he would not lose another. He folded his arms and awaited their decision.

[Conn Eremon]

Awareness (PER, +0) test to detect the newcomers' presence before they announced it - result to determine Grim's reaction to their words.

[Olis]

Boolean listened to the Lady and the First Captain speak, noting various details of speech and demeanour from both of them. Boolean did find the purple eyes sported by the First Captain curious. More curious, however, were the pistols and armour of the Lady. 

 

Boolean tests to assess the Lady's pistols and armour during the silence - using Evaluate (INT) and/or Trade (Armourer) (S) 

 

Prismatica glanced about, seeing that the others had yet to declare themselves. Krell had a tight-lipped grimace that almost assuredly meant he would refuse to break the tension. Talon was looking around just like Boolean was. Just exactly what the death cult assassin was thinking piqued the Tech-Priest's interest. He was likely measuring his comrades up and seeing who would prove him right. Or wrong, as the case may be.

 

Rather than speak up and fail what Boolean calculated was a test, he kept his peace. The decision was already made. This, surely, was an additional assessment of their collective character. He determined, with a fellow member of the Mechanicus present, that at least one of them should be the ekadaros. But still, he kept silent and maintained his gaze upon the groups' mentors. 

[Dosjetka]

Conn:

Grim [PER 32 (no modifiers)] vs Orlean [AG 58 (includes +10 Silent Move bonus)] & Nicodemus [AG 44 (no modifiers)]

Dice roll (1d100): Grim [2] vs Orlean [23] & Nicodemus [34]

Three degrees of success for both Grim and Orlean, only one for Nicodemus. Orlean (having the higher Agility bonus) goes undetected until she speaks. Grim does detects the presence of a single armoured human form but can't establish any more details until they both emerge out of the shadows.

 

+ + + + +

 

Olis: (other players DO NOT OPEN THE TAB; information is hidden for a reason!)

Hidden Content

Boolean [iNT 37 (no modifiers)] vs Armour

Dice roll (1d100): [41]

Test failure. He can only ascertain that the armour is of non-Imperial design. The manufacture, materials, etc. remain unknown. You will automatically re-take the test with the next update from me (ie. tomorrow).

 

Boolean [iNT 37 (no modifiers)] vs Pistols

Dice roll (1d100): [5]

Three degrees of success. The pistols are Mars-pattern "Command" pistols, either Mk III or Mk IV, with dark brown panels, golden filigree decorations (from this distance you can't make out the exact details) and dull silver trigger and barrel. The already long barrel has been extended, according to your estimate, by a couple of inches. Whether this was a custom modification or if this was an official variant, you couldn't say for sure without access to a data-source which could inform you more about this type of las pistol. In any case, you are certain that such fine weapons are hard to acquire and require a certain deal of regular and thorough maintenance. Such care means that only officers in the Imperial Guard, Navy, members of the Adeptus, nobility, Inquisition, and Rogue Traders would have the resources to maintain such weapons.

[Conn Eremon]

Grim wanted to speak. He truly did. What they were asking for, the role they wanted one of them to step into, was one he had been well used to for years. Coordinating between teams, acting as liaison between his superiors, the clients, and subordinate security personnel. As chauffeur-guard, he had a direct link to some of the most powerful spirelords on Caloris, and he protected them from distractions and nonsense just as much as he protected them from harm. He had followed orders without question before, because the clients were always right. He had given orders as well, made decisions in the field based upon his own intuition, that he expected to be obeyed and were. Among his family firm, he may have only been middle management. But out in the field, there had been many times he was in overall command. The . . . Lady and First Captain were looking for him. Certainly, Grim recognized that any of those beside him may also have had experience and talents lending themselves to this role. He recognized it, but it didn't particularly matter if others might be suitable as he knew he was suitable.

 

Grim didn't say a word, though. On one level, Grim knew full well that his history must have been laid bare to them. There was nothing he could say that they must not already know. They had everything on him. They must have everything on the others as well. If they believed he was best for the position, they will give it to him. If they didn't, what could he say that would change their minds?

 

These were thoughts he might not have had, if Grim didn't have those initial moments of silence. And that had nothing to do with Grim thinking clearly or logically. No, that was because Grim had already known the First Captain was there. Well, he had an idea someone was there. You don't get to be as good as Grim is in his profession without being alert and aware. The Captain was well-hid, but Grim had the idea that someone was there not long after he had arrived. Not so the Lady Orlean. Her voice reached his ears before the rest of his senses registered her presence. As if first there was just the voice, and then the rest of her, slipping from out of the shadow cast by Nicodemus. Grim had no idea she was there. As a professional, that simple acknowledgment stung. And so he was silent, as her sudden presence shocked him into it. And let's face it, whether sudden or not, both of them had an intimidating presence. Once silent, he considered what would have otherwise been obvious.

 

So Grim remained quiet, and waited.

 

But oh did he want to speak.

[*Furyou Miko]

Caral glanced around at the group, who were all wrapped up in their own thoughts, contemplations... worries. The security specialist looked a little constipated, actually, which brought a small smile to her face. They were all so highly strung, so serious, half of them clearly desperate to volunteer but afraid to be sanctioned for it, while the other half could have been counting parl for all it showed.

 

She looked back at the Lady Orlean and her Captain. She was so refined and elegant, it couldn't help but remind her of her humble beginnings. Even so... if she aspired to follow in her mentor's footsteps, she couldn't be afraid to speak up under any circumstances. So she raised her hand in a little wave, a determined look (well, she was going for determined. Kittens could look pretty determined if they wanted to!) on her face.

 

"If everyone else is too scared to screw up by volunteering, it don.. doesn't seem to me that they'd be too decisive in the field, either. I don't know if I'm the one you had in mind, but I've led hunting parties before, and I'm pretty good at getting people to work together. I'll do it, at your pleasure." The last three words seemed almost tacked on, as though she were remembering manners learned later in life.

[Charlo]

"...num Prime"

 

No sooner than the last syllables left his vox unit, Luther was caught off guard by the two figures that has seemingly infiltrated the room completely undetected. He about faced to lay his eyes on them. His cranial implants hummed slightly as they took in all of this new information, what was left of his eyes darting around behind his visor scanning the two individuals for any available clue to their identity. He would not have to wait long though - the female, Orlean was quick to inform them who they were and what their function was. Her dialogue was informal and relaxed, unbefitting of her attire and seemingly high rank within the Ordos. A likely ruse to put the "acolytes" as she referred to the group at ease. Her counterpart was the opposite however...

 

The taller of the two, a thickly built male and judging by his garb a Stormtrooper. He was much more obvious in his behaviour. Direct, sharp & ruthless. No frills, just like a soldier should be. Luther could tell this man did not care for words and that even this brief exchange was not to his liking.

 

Nicodemus finished his spiel and Luther slyly glanced at his new comrades. A leader? Perhaps Luther could? No. That would be illogical. He had a wealth of experience in matters of the machine but organizing regular strains of humanity was not his strong suit. He would no doubt be on agreeable terms with Blooean, but the others would likely be insubordinate and subject to limiting factors like emotion.

 

As he pondered, the missionary took a brave step forward and volunteered herself. As she spoke, taking slights at the rest of her new team, her tongue proved itself surprisingly forked and silver. Perhaps the followers of the standard Imperial Cult weren't all mindless preachers? She was a strange one, deviant from the standard human template but not enough to be labelled an Ab Human or true mutant it would seem, but her personal reasoning seemed to hold up. Luther was not abject to her being the leader, after all he was certainly above being just a lay-line between the team and the Ordos representatives. He was here to perform more... Unique and important duties. He was sure of it.

 

Whether Orlean and Nicodemus would agree with her volunteering would be a separate and interesting matter entirely though.