To Plunder The Stars Themselves, Episode III

[Mazer Rackham]

Squad  Beta : BROFORCE!

 

Spittle flecked Orphiel's visor, and he was glad of the barrier.  Wiping what essentially was mutant saliva from his face, would have been a distraction he didn't need.  In response to the bellow, he dropped the chair he was carrying, weaving and twisting as the shotgun stock and barbaric shears swung and snipped.  As he moved he caught the other Astartes plying their bloody trade, the Duellist, S'ynek hacking into the other augmented brute, who was indeed bugger than the one currently trying to scissor his own head off.

 

Brynjarr carried on going forward, typical of the the considered advance employed by Breacher teams of old, contemptuous of the fire hurled at them - or about to be, and yet, the dash over the bar counter showed flair.

 

Impressive warriors both for this endeavour.

 

Yet it was time to ditch his current criminal dancing partners, for they were sloppy and disagreeable of temperament.

 

If Radago S'ynek doesn't call Bolter Assault, Orphiel does.

 

+Continue Attack Pattern Alpha,+ he voxed, declaring another rush of bolter and blade, reaching for his own sidearm with a flourish of his robe.

 

Orphiel's Actions (Bolter Assault):

Free Action: Declare Bolter Assault

Declines Charge Move

Bolt Pistol shot at Target H

BS 46

D100: 70, MISS plus 2 DoF

Fate Reroll: 025 PASS, Plus 2 DoS

Hit Location: Chest

Dam: 1D10 (2D10 tearing) + 9 (Dam) 13 - 8 (Target TB) = 5 at Pen 4

 

Ignoring the staggering thug beside him, Orphiel concentrated, filling his hands with his pistols, the plasma pistol Charybdis scraping from the holster at his right hip.  A practiced flick set the power to maximal discharge, whilst angling his body to soak up punishment.

 

Normal Actions:

Free Action: Return to Solo Mode

Free Action: Draw Charybdis

Free Action: Activate Chapter Solo Mode Stoic Defence (+6 ablative Wounds if I don't move from this spot (I have leeway of 2m and can dodge)

Full Action: Multiple Attacks at Target H (pistols may make Standard Attacks in Melee).

 

Scylla (BP): 46 + 10 (BoltMaster) =56

D100: 018 PASS, Plus 3 DoS

Location: Right Leg!

Dam: 1D10 (2D10 Tearing) + 9 (Dam) + 2 (BoltMaster) 17 - 8 (Target TB) = 9, Pen 4.

 

Charybdis (PP): 46 + 0 = 46

D100: 28

Location: Right Leg!

Damage: 2D10 (Maximal) + 10 (Dam) 24 - 8 (Target TB) = 16, Pen 8 (+2 Maximal) 10.

 

The sharp cracks of bolt pistol fire illuminated the corner of the den with a warm yellow flash, eclipsed entirely by the silver-blue flare of the plasma bolt.  Meat sizzled and armour liquefied, flesh parted and bone broke.  A rancid stench bore witness to the brutal power of Orphiel's weapons, the attacks sending the Pit Fighter reeling.

 

Orphiel turned his attentions to the blinded man.

Edited October 24, 2021 by Mazer Rackham

[Ancient_Sobek]

Squad Beta

The crowd desperately attempts to flee as Radago closes with the pit fighter. From above, he could hear the familiar sound of bolt pistols firing, the slugs punched into the crowd as the firer tried to pick him out from the sea of bodies. He felt a bolt graze his abdomen. A flesh wound he determined, nothing to worry about.

 

The brute roarsand swings his crude bionic shears at Radago. The blade in his right hand catches the shears as his left blade slices toward the brutes abdomen. The pit fighter tries to dodge but the panicked crowd blocks his way. The blade tears across his chest blood spraying onto the crowd of terrified onlookers.

 

The pit fighter lashes out wildly trying to strike the swordsman. Radago deftly coils around the attack, spinning under and plunging his right hand sword upward into the brutes abdomen. He twists the blade as he pulls it free, the serrated barbs along the blade edge ripping a ragged gash in the man’s gut. The brute stumbles back into the crowd as his entrails spill from his body. 
 

S’ynek turns his cold dead eyes toward Dex and points his gore slick blade at the gang boss before making his way toward the stairs.

 

 

 

Dodge, Target: 44, roll: 35

 

Charge and attack. Target 60 roll: 05 (5 DoS)

 

Damage location: Torso

 

Damage (Chainsword/variety of blades) roll: 10+3 = 13

 

 

Bonus: Riotous Fury

 

Attack Roll Target: 60, Roll: 35 (2 DoS)

 

Damage Roll 10+3 =13

 

(did not hit with next RF roll)

 

Total Damage: 13+13+10(Str bonus) = 36 - 8 = 28

Edited October 25, 2021 by Ancient_Sobek

[Lysimachus]

Squad Beta:

 

Round 2 Summary Cont:

 

[x] Dex: Half Action: Bolt Pistol shots at Brynjarr.

Pistol 1:

BS40 +10(Short Range) -10(Dark) = 40, Roll: 16, Hit on Body (16=61)

1d10+9 Pen4 Tearing

(1,5) 5+9=14

14 -2(AV6-Pen4) -TB10 = 2 Wounds assuming no Dodge.

Pistol 2:

BS40 +10(Short Range) -10(Dark) = 40, Roll: 77, Miss!

Half Action: Move towards Ganger G.

 

[x] Ganger B: Still Blind, stumbles around a bit more!

 

[x] Crowd Horde: Half Move North. Mag shrinks from 40 to 30.

 

[x] Ganger F: All Out Attack with Knife at Orphiel:

WS28 +20(All Out) -30(Blind) = 18, Roll: 03, Hit on Left Arm (03=30)

1d10+3 Pen2

10(!)+3=13

13 -2(AV4-Pen2) - TB8 = 3 Wounds assuming no Dodge. (Or possibly no damage taken due to ablative Wounds?)

 

[x] Ganger G: Half: Move west past Dex to top of ladder.

Half: Shotgun shot at Brynjarr.

BS25 +10(Short Range) -10(Dark) = 25, Roll:69, Miss!

 

Round 2 Ends.

 

 

As S'ynek grimly points his bloody blade up at him, and the man beside him explodes in a hail of bolter fire, Dex stumbles away, wildly firing his pistols at Brynjarr as he flees. He has clearly decided discretion is the better part of valour and almost runs into another ganger carrying a shotgun, grabbing him and pushing him towards the top of the ladder that leads to behind the stage.

 

At the bottom of the main stairs, there is an actine blast brighter than any of the spotlights as Orphiel's plasma weapon discharges. The pit fighter drops instantly, a massive cauterized hole through the centre of his chest. At the same moment, the still-blinded hiver drops his main weapon and pulls a short knife. He pauses for a moment, listening intently, then slashes forward. Somehow the tip passes through the sleeve of Orphiel's long robe and scores along his forearm. Then the ganger ducks back, aware that his blade has hit but not struck true and unable to see the counterstrike he is sure must be coming. But he does not look afraid, just resigned.

 

As you look down at the temporarily disabled fighter, you realise that despite the neon gang warpaint and calm acceptance of death, this enemy is nothing but a youth, a child no older than you were when you were chosen by your Chapter for a life of self-sacrifice and war.

 

***

[Machine God]

Squad Alpha

 

Draak compartmentalised his mind to focus on three things. A trifecta of purpose. A part to listen and wait for the returning Battle Sisters. Two parts were allocated to his experiences and the experiment with the Iron Gods.

 

They were all fools and weaklings to seek to be apart from their parent chapters, to renege against their oaths to the Imperium of Man and the Omnissiah of Mars. None of them apart from maybe the pariah Ithan Redcloak, knew about the purity of logic and the Machine. Draak's experiment was certainly to be long in application. Sure there was much Hate within Squad Cutlass, Alpha had conducted itself well against the Witches of Vandire and Beta were elsewhere.

 

Beta were on Viorda Prime a Hive World. Draak remembered the purging and the blessed massacres of his past. His chapter had accompanied its sire chapter to Gantor Terentes decimated it, purged the weak heretic's of Nurgle that had gathered in the bowels of the hive.

 

Draak remembered the exact moment when a heretic had destroyed the tanks of his heavy flamer, the agony of the flames and the blessed hate that drove him forwards to quash the heretics before he awoke on the apothecaries table in the forge. He had been blessed with a bionic respiratory system to replace his burnt airway and lungs. A step further towards perfection.

 

After finding a lost vault of phosphex weaponry for his chapter, Draak had volunteered for further augmentation by replacing his secondary heart with a bionic replacement and returning the chapter's due. Draak will was iron and he would hammer all opposition.

[Trokair]

Dodge Test, Ag 48

D100: 11, Pass, 3 DoS

 

Keeping an eye on the target Brynjarr saw the bolt pistol swing in his direction, and instinctively weaved right, further out of Dex’s arc of fire. The pistol barked and behind Brynjarr part of the wall detonated as it was hit, seconds later a shotgun blast also went over his head and he turned to face the ganger now unsteadily blocking his path.

Edited October 25, 2021 by Trokair

[Lysimachus]

Squad Beta:

Round 3:



Kill-Team Beta Cohesion: 2

Initiative Order:
[ ] Radago | (SOLO) | AG5 +10 = 15 | WOUNDS 20/20 | FATE 2/3
[ ] Orphiel | (SQUAD) | AG4 +9 = 13 | WOUNDS 20/20 | FATE 2/3
[ ] Brynjarr | (SQUAD) | AG4 +8 = 12 | WOUNDS 23/23 | FATE 4/4
[ ] Dex | AG4 +5 +2(PARANOIA) = 11 | WOUNDS 18/18 | FATE 1/1
[ ] Ganger B | AG3 + 7 = 10 | WOUNDS 10/10
[ ] Crowd Horde | AG3 + 5 = 8 | MAG 30/50 Blind
[ ] Ganger F | AG3 + 4 = 7 | WOUNDS 10/10
[ ] Ganger G | AG3 + 4 = 7 | WOUNDS 10/10

(Gangers B and F are no longer Blind)

[Ancient_Sobek]

Moving my post to better align with the story

Edited October 26, 2021 by Ancient_Sobek

[Mazer Rackham]

Squad BROFORCE:

 

The knife cut scored his arm, putting a hole through his travelling robe, eliciting a weary sigh.  As he turned to punish the impudence, he saw the youth.

 

The boy would see himself in Orphiel's visor.  The strange symmetry between them moved him.

 

Smashing the blade from the youth’s fist with a blow from his bolt pistol, Orphiel quickly holstered Scylla.  He gripped the lad by the shoulder with his free hand instead, slamming him into the wall.  Locking his grip, the stance and hold were inviolate as flash-scourged ceramite and ozone perfumed the air.  In truth he didn’t have time for this, but he had the urge to make time.

 

Besides, S’ynek was chopping meat handily enough, and Brynjarr was in no danger after his bloody volley.

 

The boy’s simple courage impressed him.  A life that could have been his pressed onto his conscience with the sin of relativity.

 

+Armour slurry and fried innards,+ Orphiel said to his pinned victim, inhaling deeply to press the point.  +You smell that boy?+  He kept his voice clean of anger.  It was important to convey what he wanted; and hysteria or rage was seldom useful as a vehicle.  He had to crack through the adrenaline and idiot conviction, reach the part of the boy’s brain that showed such courage a moment before.

 

“Y-yes sir,” the ganger tried to blink the stinging pain of the photon grenade free, his eyes red from the effort.  The ridiculous neon gang paint was smudged with sweat and the collisions at close quarters.

 

+What is your name boy?  Not your gang moniker, your name.+

 

“M-Math-Matthias, lord.”

 

+I am Lord to no-one, but I am a Master Excruciator.  You know what that means?+

 

The lad nodded, his face turned to the voice that slapped at his attention, his earlier resignation turning into healthy fear.

 

Death he might accept, but suffering the vivisection of torture was incredibly visceral, and the horrors the young mind could play on itself were more than even Orphiel could inflict.  He would exploit that without mercy.  +Know this:  what every eye sees, I see.  What every ear hears, I hear.  Today you shall live, but Throne and the Lords of Allhallow witness me, henceforth should your name ever grace a tongue I pry out, I shall find you and peel your worthless soul from your screaming flesh.+

 

The young man was utterly still.

 

+Do you understand?+

 

“I do,” he replied, sincere.

 

+Then I absolve you:  Salve in Misericordia eum; In Absolutio per Dominus Imperator.  Good luck.+  With that, he threw the boy out of the nearest window – let the pain be a reminder.  Quod Erat Demonstrandum.  A figure scooped itself up from the mist and crystalline scatter, scrambling into the darkness.

 

Orphiel re-joined the battle.

 

(Have spent too much Structured Time to complete actions, so forfeit the turn with narrative if that's ok GM?  PS, that's correct about the wounds, they are always removed first before I start getting hurt).

[Trokair]

+Lets finish this, Radago you good to be one side of a pincer?+

 

From the edge of the stage Brynjarr could not see the others, though from the last he saw they where doing great with the pit fighters abut to go down.

 

Glancing up at the ganger stumbling to the edge of the ladder Brynjarr raised his boltgun and shook his head at the youth. The ganger however did not seem to take the hint, and not wanting to risk Dex escaping Brynjarr sent one bolt round upwards while jumping halfway up the ladder and continuing to climb to the top.

 

Bolter Assault

Shoot Ganger C

Bs 48 – 10 (Dark) + 20 (point blank range) = 58

D100: 57 (just)

Assuming no Dodge

Damage 1D10 (Tearing 1,10: Take 10 (RF Hit roll 100! No Riotous Fury Here)) + 9 = 19 at Pen 4

Assuming Ganger G is dead Move up ladder.

 

Looking down to avoid any back splatter from the now dead ganger Brynjar reached the top, shoving the remains aside and acquired Dex in his sights, the man was scrambling away from him. He was about to call out for him to surrender when Radago bound up the stairs, closing the trap.

 

Normal Move (half action) up lader

Aim at Dex with  bolter (half action)

Edited October 26, 2021 by Trokair

[Ancient_Sobek]

Squad Beta

 

++ Affirmative ++ Radago voxed. 
 

The sound of a bolt shredding a body filled the space as Brynnjar removed the ganger blocking his way and sprung up the ladder. Radago followed close behind. Brynnjar was pointing his bolter at the last of Dex’s bodyguards as he climbed onto the platform. Dex stumbled, scrambling away from the killer advancing on him. Radago walked forward, the blood of the pit fighter sprayed across his form, his gore soaked blade held casually at his side.

 

+ Enough posturing little man + He growled. The mechanical feedback adding menace to his word. + You have information we require +

 

 

Intimidate. Target 52 (I rolled against strength, is that correct?) Roll 11 (4 DoS)

[Lysimachus]

Squad Beta:

 

+++STRUCTURED TIME ENDS+++

 

Dex stops dead in the upper floor doorway, taking in the blade and bolter wielding enemies that appear before and behind him. For a moment he tenses and it seems he might charge one way or the other... but whatever else he might be, this one is no fool given to lost causes. After observing how quickly and easily you have defeated his followers, he slowly raises his arms to either side so that his own pistols are carefully pointed away from both of you. With a sigh, he flicks the safeties on and drops the weapons to the floor.

 

"I surrender."

[Mazer Rackham]

Squad Beta:

 

The words came down the stairs, as the music ceased.

 

Orphiel took in his surroundings after being distracted with the boy.  Satisfied the crowd had thinned out but for the dead and the drunks lying vomiting from being trampled on, he picked up the dropped shotgun, examining it for defects.  Finding none, he carried himself purposefully up the stairs, taking them three at a time, until he erupted into the snug, where Brynjarr covered the Crimelord with snub boltgun, and S'ynek menaced him with a murderous posture.

 

Placing the shotgun on a table, he shrugged his travelling robe free.  He jerked his chin at Dex.  +Strip.+

 

Not bothering to see if the criminal complied, he drew his dagger and cut lengths of cloth from the hem.  He daubed the middle of one strip in the blood of the fallen gangers and rubbed most of it off, leaving behind enough to make it look like a fresh bandage.  Keeping clear of Brynjarr's bolter muzzle, so he could shoot the man if required, Orphiel tied the bloody rag around Dex's eyes.  The strip was big enough to obscure his brow and cheekbones.

 

Orphiel had reduced the man's vision to a handful of inches around his feet.

 

+When you are finished disrobing, spread your arms and legs - you know the position I am sure.+

 

Search Test for when Dex is in his birthday suit:

Perception: 59/2 (Basic, Untrained) = 30 (Round up)

D100: 39 FAIL, no DoF.

[Necronaut]

Squad Alpha

 

Vesalius joined his fellow renegades where they stood among the charred wreckage and mangled corpses that remained of the once proud battle-sisters, a testament to the savage brutality of Astartes in their element. His data-feed indicated four of the squad had sustained some wounds, but nothing remotely life-threatening. He keyed the activation runes on his narthecium to prepare a mild anaglesic and attended to his wounded charges in silence as Svelk and the Traveller bickered.

 

Medicae test:

I52(+40+5): 97

Medicae: 1d100 91

91 - Success, 0 DoS, the Traveller receives First Aid

 

Medicae: 1d100 97

97 - Success, 0 DoS, Ithan receives First Aid

 

Medicae: 1d100 18

18 - Success, 7 DoS, Svelk receives First Aid

 

Medicae: 1d100 82

82 - Success, 1 DoS, Decimus receives First Aid

 

 

 

First Aid Rolls:

Medicae (First aid) - The Traveller: 1d5+5 6

The Traveller heals 11 wounds

 

Medicae (First aid) - Ithan: 1d5+5 9

Ithan heals 14 wounds

 

Medicae (first aid) - Svelk: 1d5+5 6

Svelk heals 11 wounds

 

Medicae (first aid) - Decimus: 1d5+5 9

Decimus heals 14 wounds

 

 

It was a simple matter to operate on the wounded members of Cutlass to whom he had grown somewhat accustomed, but Vesalius, for all of his prowess, found himself stymied by the significant arcane augmentations of the tech-marine, Redcloak. As such he was unable to render the hulking astartes any aid, and withdrew somewhat bewildered, commenting only that he would monitor his wounds and attempt to devise a work-around.

 

His work completed, he separated again from the squad and knelt beside the battle-sister whose life he had ended. He stared into her dark eyes, which in turn stared up into the great expanse above, seeing nothing, no longer sending impulses along their optic nerves. He inspected the wound his bolt round had produced, noting the entry point and the surrounding cracked pattern of ceramite. The exit wound was a mess of bone fragments, shards of metal and pulverized tissue. He remained there for a time staring at the slain woman before unsheathing his blade and removing her ears. The apothecary then rose, tucking his prizes into a pouch on his belt, joining the ears of a ratling and an ogryn. The parched soil thirstily drank her blood all the while.

Edited November 2, 2021 by Necronaut

[Commissar Molotov]

After several minutes of silence, almost eerie after the thunderous tumult of battle, Toks and Bobs emerge hesitantly from the old mine entrance. The older man picks his way carefully between fires and around ruined bodies towards the team. He seems to be avoiding looking too closely, having seen far more than enough corpses during his Guard career, but it is hard to miss the carnage.

 

"We're out," he says flatly to the group. "Throne, but look at the mess you've made of each other! Mortals like us don't need to be in the middle of that, and we sure don't need them invading our home! How did they even know to find you here, that's what I can't figure out?"

The Traveller stands to allow Vesalius to tend to the surface wounds; thankfully the ceramite of his warplate had prevented him from any serious injuries. He ignores the mis-matched pair, having little patience for the ramblings of an old man and an abhuman wretch.

 

Turning away, he activated his intra-squad vox. The muted clicks would give little away to the outsiders, but would allow them to converse privately.

 

++The old man says he knows of an entrance to the Convent. What say you all?++

[Trokair]

Beta

 

Brynjarr kept a close eye on Dex, weapon at the ready while the others started to prepare for their departure from here.

 

Once the captive had been striped, searched, bound and disguised Brynjarr jumped back down onto the stage and positioned the dead ganger he had knifed, together with one of the spare shotguns from another ganger. So that at a glance it would like that he had been responsible for the explosive demise of the two that had succumb to bolter shells. It would not stand up to experienced scrutiny, but it added to the story of a gang fight and nothing more.

 

They briefly discussed a safe place to fall back to so that Dex could be questioned in peace. One of the many Inns dotted around the market should do.

 

+I’ll retrieve Holger, and meet you there+ Brynjarr added.

 

Picking up the Heavy Stabber Brynjar inspected it and the ammo supply to see if it was any good to use or trade.

 

Guessing here as to what sort of test I need Perception seemed appropriate.

Per 40

D100: 25, 1 DoS

 

 

Despite his best effort Brynjar could not get the heavy stubber mechanism to even grudgingly work, it was tpo busted to be of any uses. He did however pocket some of the intact ammunition, at times and places, such as the lower reaches of a hive, bullets were as good or better than actual coin.

 

After the others left Brynjarr hung back a little to see if there were any curious eyes on the Broken Vent that best be avoided. Having not spotted anything Brynjar eventually set of, taking a different and circuitous route back to the local in whose care they had left Holger.

 

He double back a few times and did everything he could remember on counter surveillance training, annoyingly little as it was not of direct relevance to a Astartes  primary trade. They had been spotted earlier, and that had let to these troubles, so best not to let circumstance repeat themselves.

 

---

 

“Ah, little one, I see you are back with us, all better after you tumble?”

 

Brynjarr went on to thank the store holder, and to waylay any thought the local might have of grumbling to the wrong ears, left a few more coins then necessary when he bought some of the food sellers wares.

Edited October 28, 2021 by Trokair

[Mazer Rackham]

Squad Beta:

 

Orphiel knew he had to perform a few more tasks yet.  He looked across at Radago.  +I have some deceptions to make here, to throw off the scent,+ he offered a heavy purse recovered from their prisoner to the other Astartes. 

 

+Would you like the pleasure of 'guiding' our prey to a suitable lair?+

 

It was altogether more likely with his speed, reflexes and poise, Radago would make short work of any escape attempt.  having the mortal in the coils of his power might also appeal, and a heavy bursary was always good on the hip.

 

He placed the purse within easy reach and set about stripping a corpse, to dress it in the attire of the crimelord.  Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Brynjarr also dressing the set.

 

Orphiel liked a quick learner.

[Lysimachus]

Squad Beta:

 

Holger manages a half grin.

 

"Not an experience I'd like to repeat, my lord Brynjarr," he replies softly. "You all have my sincerest thanks."

 

Then he looks around, perhaps looking for Orphiel and Radago.

 

"Have we had any better luck with our mission?"

 

It takes only a few minutes to explain the current situation and a few more to meet up with the rest of Beta at the rented hovel where you have hidden Dex. It is little more than a lean-to built from a frame of scaffolding and scraps of sheet metal against one of the great rockcrete pillars that run vertically through the Hive. But it is relatively quiet, set back from the emptying market. The room itself is dark and dank, with rusty water dripping slowly through a hole in the corrugated roof. The gang boss sits tied to a crude chair in the corner, blindfold still covering his eyes.

 

***

 

So, I guess along with an Interrogation Test and any fluff (perhaps let's avoid getting too graphic though, family site and all), what questions do you want to ask?

[Mazer Rackham]

Squad Beta:

 

+Did you get what I asked for?+

 

A slop bucket was dropped at the top of the stairs, and Orphiel paid the man in coin.  The stink was quite aromatic, and nobody, not even the Subject, would miss the pungent aroma of Grox offal.  The market trader wandered out, and the door was latched.  He carried the bucket down the stairs, rapidly covering the top with the muslin cloth the butcher supplied, planting it next to the door Dex - the Subject - was incarcerated in.

 

Holger and the others were hovering.

 

+You must wait,+ Orphiel advised, +he is not yet ready to spill his own guts.+

 

He let the smirk carry across the commbead.  With quick whispers, he instructed Holger to give him a couple of minutes, and then perform his duty as a remembrancer.  Having spoken to Razor, the little man would know what he sounded like.  Even if he was off, the door and Dex's own disorientation would do the rest.

 

+Once this door closes, no-one must enter, and noise must be avoided - but for Mr Holger.  When I emerge, we can discuss the next steps.+

 

He plunged one of his gauntleted fists into the offal, and coated with blood and mucus, he opened the door to the cell.  His mind was now working to his art, to his training.  There must be dissociation.  Dex didn't have a name, nor a personality.  He was the Subject, and no more.  This was not a room, it was a Cell.  An amateur might resort to torture, professionals would always apply the levers given.

 

Orphiel had to control everything, the atmosphere, the environment and even time.  Blindfolded and cold, starved and naked, with only the leaking drainpipe for company, the Subject would possibly be malleable enough to think he'd been here longer than he had.  That must be leveraged.  The fact he thought Razor was dead was an ignorance to be used against him.

 

He went into the cell and closed the door behind him with a firm, grim finality.

 

+I apologise you have been left so long, I almost forgot about you,+ he leaned in, gripping the Subject's chin with his clean hand, adjusting the blindfold with his gory, crimson fist.  There was no missing the dry-retch the Subject fought down.  He left him to it, walking to the corner of the cell and very loudly speaking over his shoulder as he filled an enamelled bowl from the standpipe there.  He drew the actions out, as though he had all the time in the world.

 

+I was trying to talk to Razor, but he was stubborn.  I have left him in the care of my colleagues.+

 

Almost on cue, a loud, blood-curdling cry ripped the pause apart, the sound of a daemon clawing someone's guts reverberated in the pipes and from the walls, seeming to go on a long time after it ceased.  The water sloshing in the bowl was the only noise as Orphiel cleaned his hands.

 

Silence.

 

There was a roughly hewn three-legged stool in the corner next to the standpipe, and Orphiel studiously dragged it over the tiled floor, the scrape of wood across plasgranite enough to set teeth on edge.  He sat down on it, close enough that his visor was three feet from the Subject's face.  An interruption of personal space, that sovereign distance everyone took for granted, even in a Hive like this.

 

Holger screamed again, and this time it was perfect.  There was a slight upturned note at the end that sounded plaintive.  It was followed by a loud sob.  It was masterful, but the work wasn't done.  Orphiel had to capitalise on it, had to ram this dagger home.

 

+I only need one of you, Dex.  Can I call you Dex?+  he forced sincerity and a depth of intimacy into his tone, continuing to talk as though in conversation.  +Razor has not told me what I want to know, but he will talk.  They always do in the end.  Whoever talks to me first, Dex, is going to win.  Are you a winner, Dex?  Are you going to talk to me?+

 

Now the hard sell, firmly spoken.

 

+Or do I invite my colleagues in here, and show you what kind of hell awaits the loser?+

Edited October 29, 2021 by Mazer Rackham

[Lysimachus]

Squad Beta:

 

The blinded leader tries to force an aura of calm and control, but his fear still bleeds through.

 

"Razor is an idiot," he responds as coldly as he can manage. "He knows nothing of use to anyone. If you make the mistake of sparing his life over mine, you will never learn anything."

 

He pauses, seeming to realise these words show acceptance of your power over him. He changes tack.

 

"I have many friends all throughout this great Hive. They will be looking for me. I advise you to let me go now, before they find us. If you do, perhaps we can even come to some arrangement? I might then be willing to answer... some... of your questions."

[Mazer Rackham]

Squad Beta:

 

Orphiel sniffed, as though he was considering the offer.

 

He used the noise to mask his sub-vocal communication with his team.

 

+He is beginning to bargain,+  a quick press repeated the last few seconds of the interrogation to Brynjarr and Radago.  Standing slowly, he paced the floor smoothly, his steps unhurried,.  The comms line remained open, now letting three interrogators into the cell.

 

I'm trying to involve Brynjarr and S'ynek here, if that's ok? Since Orphiel is used to being a handler, perhaps the others of Beta could distil a few queries, and put them to Dex via him, as though they were in the room?

Edited October 29, 2021 by Mazer Rackham

[Trokair]

Beta

 

After a moments consideration Brynjarr replied.

 

+I am doubtful that that is true bargaining, he still believes he has friends here that will save him if he buys time. I’d be inclined to dispel that notion. Ploy? Agent of Fleet Admiralty, unlikely any Spire connection he has would reaches that high.+

Edited October 30, 2021 by Trokair

[Ancient_Sobek]

Beta Squad

 

++Do not take too long toying with him ++ S’ynek hissed over the vox. ++ We need to find out what he knows before we draw more attention. I dare say we have made an impression in this area. Best we move along soon.++

 

He thought for a moment and added. ++I could flay him if think it will loosen his tongue ++

[Mazer Rackham]

Squad Beta:

 

Orphiel listened to the voices slithering through his head, knew how to respond.  He leaned in closely to the Subject and whispered as coldly and precisely as he could.

 

+Your friends are not here.  In fact, I suspect they too might be answering questions.+

 

He leaned back, and resumed his seat, his conversational tone.  +They will be looking to win.  Why not?  They have more to lose.  The information you hold diminishes in value with each moment that you refuse me, until you become disposable.  Do you want to come in last Dex?  To be discarded the way you have cast off Razor?  Do you want to play those odds?+

 

+I am the only thing standing between you and terrible harm,+ he thought of S'ynek and his inhuman stare. +You are keeping yourself here.  Help me to help you.+

 

Just an FYI, Lysi has told me he'll answer what we ask, so if you lads want to put the queries to him, fire away and Lysi can answer

Edited October 30, 2021 by Mazer Rackham

[Trokair]

+Let’s start with the basics then, ask him where Lang is?+

[Lysimachus]

Squad Beta:

 

Dex's response is surly.

 

"Lang is gone. Vanished one night a few weeks ago. Someone took him out. No-one knows anything more than that. Good riddance, the arrogant spacer! Thought he could come in here with his fancy guns and his money and take over my…"

 

He catches himself, obviously reticent to say more. He seems... guilty… even embarrassed?... about something. But if the crime boss is somehow responsible for Lang's disappearance, why would he feel any shame about having eliminated a rival?

 

***