To Plunder The Stars Themselves, Episode III

[Machine God]

Vesalius took off his white Diagnostor Helm and answered Draak warily. Draak was faced by an Astartes with corpse-fleshed skin covering a close shaven skull except for a slicked back mohawk the colour of jet, two gimlet pools of night for eyes regarded him.

Coward Legion, Draak swore mentally

~No that's wrong Draak said Eisen, I was there during the Shattering of the Crusade. I have fought together with his kind and the Smiths. Iron and Hate is good, but indoctrination cancels some truths for others~

"Yes, my helm was equipped with a helm-picter. It has seen much since I joined the Iron Gods, but it is, perhaps, in need of recalibration. I am not adept in the arts of dealing with machine-spirits, Draak. I am..." answered Vesalius.

"Well I am versed in the ways ot the machine-spirit Vesalius, most of my Chapter and forebears are" said Draak. "Thank you for the trust Vesalius. To entrust another Marine with your war plate who is not a Techmarine is difficult. It would be like giving you my Hand."

Vesalius sighed and walked towards him.

"I am willing to entrust this task to you Draak, of servicing this relic from my past life. Perhaps we can collaborate on a post-mission report. If there's anyone that could benefit on a primer on the finer points of clandestine operations, it would be Kill-Team Cutlass." Vesalius said.

"Let us head to the Dagger's armourium; they should have a much better selection of tools there. I will supervise."

Draak and Vesalius then departed the med-bay. Draak waited with his back turned whilst Vesalius locked the door. They both then headed off to the Armorium.

Once at the Armorium, Draak made the Sign of the Cog and spoke to the Armourer. "Good day Armourer, I hope that you are well. Apothecant Vesalius here has entreated me to undertake a recalibration of his Diagnostor Helm. Please may we use a part of your Armorium and your most excellent tools?"

"Of course Respected Draak, I will show you to a secluded workshop" the Armourer replied, beckoning Draak and Vesalius further in to his domain.

Once at the workshop the Armourer ushered two tech-thralls away.

"Privacy is assured for your endeavour Respected Draak, unless you require any assistance?" said the Armourer making the Sign of the Cog.

Draak answered with the Sign back, "No this is quite sufficient, thank you!"

Draak and Vesalius waited whilst the Armourer left. "Vesalius, just wait there a moment whilst I cleanse the workshop of Tech taint."

Draak lifted a chained brazier orb. He lit the incense inside and wafted the blessed incense around the workshop. Once the smoke had cleared to a manageable level, Draak made the Sign of the Cog and bowed his head to the workshop.

"Oh great Omnissiah I entreat thee!" Draak then lit four incense candles, one at each corner of the room and then beckoned Vesalius inside. "Now we can begin Vesalius."

Vesalius then entered warily, he then passed his Diagnostor Helm to Draak. As he did so a burst of static popped from the helm to Draak's left hand.

"Do not be alarmed Vesalius!" said Draak. "Oh great Machine-Spirit, shield of Vesalius and all of his great forebears. I Draak entreat thee! Once long ago both our legions fought together side by side as brothers. Like Vesalius and I have done more recently. Do not be alarmed Machine-Spirit, I entreat the Omnissiah to heal you!"

Draak plugged a data-jack from Eisen into the Diagnostor Helm. He then using his dextrous left hand examined the helm and picter. He then attempted to recalibrate the device and access the recordings.

INT44 + 10 (Tech Use +10) + 10 (Exceptional Bionic Hand [for fine manipulation]) = 64:
Result: 24, Pass 4DoS.

Draak noted from the footage of the both of them walking to the Armourium that the picture was grainy and monochrome. After tweaking he restored the pictures to colour and clarity. He noted that a copy had already been uploaded to the Elysium Noosphere. Utilising the helm he was able to access the uploaded footage and clean that up too. Draak made a copy which he saved to Eisen.

 

Draak then spoke to the Diagnoster Helm "01001000011010010110010001100101011110010010000001001000011011110110110001100101" as he created a back door.

"Vesalius I was able to recalibrate your Diagnostor Helm and all of the footage obtained by the Machine-Spirit and you."

Draak then handed the helm back to Vesalius, they both then left the Armourium after Draak thanked the Armourer.

(Edit: Added back door)

Edited January 28, 2022 by Machine God

[Necronaut]

Vesalius received his helm back from Draak, forcing himself not to snatch it away from the other Astartes. Once he returned to the Dagger's med-bay, he would scour and scrub the helm until he was satisfied it had been rendered sterile.

 

"I will re-compile the footage I captured and submit my post-mission report. You have my thanks, Draak."

 

The apothecary nodded to his associate and departed, cradling his diagnostor-helm in his hands. As he walked back to the med-bay he mulled this turn of events: he was pleased to have his war-gear in proper working order, but he was somewhat disturbed that he had allowed another of the pirates to handle what was his. They had spilled blood together in the heat of battle - perhaps that was worthy of some measure of trust? No, he could not trust any of the Iron Gods; he could work alongside them as fellow professionals, but trust was out of the question. But it was better that way.

 

He would be keeping an eye on Draak in the future.

 

I'm reposting this here to fit better with the RP narrative:

 

With Lysimachus' permission, Vesalius has been granted an opportunity to reroll the bonus XP from his helm-picter's recording thanks to Draak's technical expertise and offer of brotherly help in the matter. Here goes…

 

Tactics (Recon & Stealth):

Int52 + 10: 62

Helm-Picter XP Re-roll: 1d100 1

01(!!!) - success, 6 DoS

 

50 XP per DoS x 6 DoS = 300 bonus XP for each member of Kill-Team Cutlass, replacing the previous roll which netted 50.

Edited January 8, 2022 by Necronaut

[A.T.]

Odysseus watched the others spar and trade words as they sought a new place in the power vacuum, he himself standing above such things as none amongst them could challenge his position. To be first amongst equals one must first have an equal, and his thoughts drifted to the advisor that stood at Varns side and whispered into his ear at key moments. How much of the power stood behind the throne...

 

As the fighting pit emptied he wondered if others had seen it too as one by one they eyed Draak for the position of pretender. But no-one had yet stood for themselves and no leader in this place could command without some show of authority.

 

Leaving the stands he returned to his quarters and the work therein. The blackstone recent recovered had been painstakingly rendered down into fine wire and now the task began of threading it into the hood of his armour, more an art than science each strand turned the flux of the warp subtly and with each new thread the others shifted in and out of alignment. Incomplete it was nothing but once aligned true the warp around him would run cold save for those strands he had reserved for himself, a defense against energies far more lethal than the shells and flames turned by his kine-shield.

[Machine God]

Draak headed towards the ranges to talk with Grendel. As he passed the arming cages, he caught sight of Decimus laying into a trio of armoured servitors with a power axe.

 

Why waste ammunition on the ranges when you can work off your hate against servitors? Draak thought approvingly, whilst he waited for Decimus to finish.

 

"Brother Decimus well fought!" said Draak "Big weapons for range and melee, good choice."

 

"I've been meaning to speak with you and hear your words of wisdom. Without a leader Kill-Team Cutlass will fracture now that The Traveller has left. Combat calm's me down but I need a focus a purpose. I intend to lead Cutlass!" said Draak, "What do you think of that?"

 

(Edit: typo)

Edited March 21, 2022 by Machine God

[Black Cohort]

Draak headed towards the ranges to talk with Grendel. As he passed the arming cages, he caught sight of Decimus laying into a trio of armoured servitors with a power axe.

 

Why waste ammunition on the ranges when you can work off your hate against servitors? Draak thought approvingly, whilst he waited for Decimus to finish.

 

"Brother Decimus well fought!" said Draak "Big weapons for range and melee, good choice."

 

"I've been meaning to speak with you and hear your words of wisdom. Without a leader Kill-Team Cutlass will fracture now that The Traveller has left. Combat calm's me done but I need a focus a purpose. I intend to lead Cutlass!" said Draak, "What do you think of that?"

 

(Edit: typo)

"Are we a chapter, where officers are placed over us by command?" Decimus said has he moved through a form known as the feline hunter in his chapter.

 

"Where we share bonds of blood and shared tradition?"  he pushed aside a cleaving blow from one of the training servitors.

 

"That is gone, torn from us by an uncaring universe and a decadent Imperium betraying grandfathers name."  a backhanded blow drove another servitor to it's knees.

 

"All that is left to us is strength and vengeance.  The bonds of betrayed warriors."  An elbow cracked into the last servitor.

 

"Our leaders are those we chose, who we follow for their wisdom, cunning and skill.  They cannot simply demand obedience.  They will lead us in our vengeance, and woe betide all who stand in our way," his axe whirled in an arc that ended with a servitor's skull split in half.

 

"Talek Varn is building something new, un-corrupted by centuries of decay lead by those who claim to be granted authority in his name.  Are you sure you have the discipline to take a higher role in that?"

[Machine God]

"Talek Varn is building something new, un-corrupted by centuries of decay lead by those who claim to be granted authority in his name.  Are you sure you have the discipline to take a higher role in that?" Decimus answered.

 

 

Draak was impressed by Decimus' rhetoric and his axe-craft.

 

Someone's bought in to the new spiel and dogma, thought Draak.

 

"Yes I was drawn to Talek Varn's domain by that fine ideal and a true calling," answered Draak.

 

"I believe that I have the conviction and discipline to step up from the ranks and take this higher role," said Draak, his voice rising in belief and volume. "I will lead Kill-Team Cutlass, this I Vow!" stated Draak.

 

 

[Machine God]

"I believe that I have the conviction and discipline to step up from the ranks and take this higher role," said Draak, his voice rising in belief and volume. "I will lead Kill-Team Cutlass, this I Vow!" stated Draak.

 

Draak strode off, leaving Decimus to his fun.

 

I should seek out other members of Cutlass and put my intentions to them, bend them to my will, thought Draak. No I will go and state my intentions to Master Sergeant Ghoran.

 

Draak strode off down the corridor's of Elysium, a man on a mission. He stopped once or twice to exchange words and accept praise from fellow Iron Gods, gradually he found that his course had altered. "He's down at the end of that corridor, Respected Draak" answered a tech-thrall warily.

 

"Yes I shall speak with him" decided Draak. He strode down the corridor and was about to knock on the...

 

The door opened noiselessly before his fist was even halfway up.

 

"Draak stop shouting! I know why you are here, I've known for ages, but the last half hour has been just a large headache. Calm Down and be at peace. You mean to lead Kill-Team Cutlass" said Odysseus' from further inside the room.

 

Draak froze at the door, he could see Odysseus working on something. He waited outside the threshold of the room respectfully.

 

(Edit: Changed ending because it wasn't how A.T. envisaged how Odysseus would have acted) 

Edited March 22, 2022 by Machine God

[A.T.]

The would be king had come at last, without turning Odysseus spoke, "no doubt you are here to seek command, in so much as obeying the will of Varn might be considered such."

 

Standing to his full height he eyed the devastator sensing little motivation but raw ambition, "why seek support? If no one stands opposed then seize the position do not ask of it. And if you fear that I would stand in your way then know that I stand above it, the path of the psyker is not one to be shared."

[Mazer Rackham]

With the Ironclad marching forth on his quest to dominate even the firmament with his inexorable tread, Orphiel turned his attention to walking the halls of Von Caeryd's former home.  Having inloaded the map of this now fortified manor house, he strode the carpeted halls where the rapacious gauntlets of the Iron Gods had not yet torn off the wood panelling or ripped up the plush pile throws.  He searched and found a librarium - not the archives in which the Brethren Psykana dwelled, but a repository of books.

 

It was empty, and he smiled at the welcoming quiet, but he was not finished in his quest.

 

He walked slowly, savouring the steady motion, the rasp and fold of his robe and hood not a distraction, but supplement, breaking the white noise with gentle whisper.  He could hear ahead the shout and bawl of several armsmen and fleet hands in the service of the Iron Gods warships.  He stood in the shadow of the vaulted gothic door, the inlaid colonnades defaced and burned with soot from the battle to wrest final control of the asteroid-bound station from her old proctor.

 

He searched the faces of the young men and women, spotting his quarry standing near, but yet apart from them - a nervous smile at his lips, due to the disjointed desire to be part of a group, but unaware of their rules.  He looked up just as Orphiel folded his arms into his robe and chose to step forth at a brisk pace.

 

+Boy!+ his voice rolled out into the large room being used as a staging area where supply crates were being stored.

 

Matthias was unable to hide the sudden change in his attitude at being recognised, being known by one of the Marines.  "Lord?"

 

+I am Lord to no-one.  I am Orphiel,+ he told the lad, but he could see this caused great confusion. +You may refer to me as 'Sir' in a pinch.  Now.  What is your learning, boy?+

 

"I was a Guild apprentice my lor-uh sir.  Mechwright's Third Hand," he finished proudly, despite a giggle from one of the female naval ratings he was eyeing.

 

Orphiel silenced that with a hard stare from behind his visor.  +So you know a socket spanner from a third-eight wrench?+

 

Matthias grinned.  "Yes sir.  One has a spinny bit, the other has a hole at the end."

 

+Excellent - I suppose.  Come with me.  We must find Sergeant Ghoran.+

Edited January 23, 2022 by Mazer Rackham

[Machine God]

"Why seek support? If no one stands opposed then seize the position do not ask of it. And if you fear that I would stand in your way then know that I stand above it, the path of the psyker is not one to be shared." said Odysseus. 

 

"Thank you Odysseus, I value your council. I had meant to seek out Brother Ghoran but my feet led me here. I will leave you to your construction, good day!" said Draak, who did an about face and walked away.

 

Draak walked off towards the room where Kill-Team Cutlass had been received by Talek Varn to locate Brother Ghoran. Draak managed to locate Brother Ghoran who was laughing and joking with some other Iron Gods, telling tall tales and remembering past fights.

 

Draak went over, he listened to the conversation and waited for a break to speak to Brother Ghoran. A while later an opportunity arose and Draak butted in.

 

"Master Sergeant Ghoran with the departure of The Traveller, I will be taking over the vacant Sergeant position of Kill-Team Cutlass!" said Draak.

 

(Edit: typo)

Edited January 23, 2022 by Machine God

[Lysimachus]

Sgt Ghoran looks at the Devastator with a wry grin.

 

"Aye lad, I'd heard you were making your mark. Good for you. Well, we've got a couple of days while Achard gets his ship checked over. First thing tomorrow we'll be talking to Lang to see what he knows. You and any of your team who want to be there can join us. Until then, get a few hours rest, get your kit serviced, you know the drill. Clear?"

 

The grizzled veteran looks over Draak's shoulder, spotting Orphiel approaching with the boy Matthias in tow. He grins again and mutters to himself.

 

"No rest for the wicked…"

[Mazer Rackham]

Between his Lyman's Ear and the Mk IV autosenses, the Sergeant hadn't been quiet enough.  Orphiel said nothing to Ghoran's self-deprecation, although the urge arose to offer absolution.  Then there was no stopping it, and the words tumbled out.

 

+Is not the work reward enough, Sergeant?+ he said, spoken with total innocence.  Let him chew on that one.

 

He took a breath in the face of a raised eyebrow, and carried on.  +I was hoping you could furnish me with arming tools and training weapons, Sergeant.  Two Rudii, if possible.+

[Lysimachus]

Ghoran's brow wrinkles thoughtfully, but another voice interrupts before he can respond. One of the Astartes who was previously sat listening to the Sergeant's stories stands up.

 

"My Lord Varn has heard several tales of this fine and daring young warrior. He has his own plans for the boy. Further combat training would certainly be wise... but it will have to wait for now. There are more pressing matters that concern you, Brother Orphiel. I had been hoping to cross paths with you."

 

It is the witch, Degier!

[Mazer Rackham]

Draak passed, with a nod of greeting, Orphiel returned it.

 

Then he saw Degier.

 

He was taken not aback, but sideways, for half a heartbeat.

 

As soon as he recognised the witch-kin, his teeth rang together in a clench.  He wiped his mind as though preparing for sleep, imagining a candle.

 

It is lit - with an even yellow flame.  Now, quickly!  How big is it? A foot - not good enough! Twelve inches - thin, by one inch.  Took three days for the wax to set, rolled evenly, the wick is finest twine - from where, fool?  Artur the Wainwright.  Good.  Describe it!  Quick!

 

It sits in a holder, on a platter of chased silver - good - how wide?  Twelve inches - one-hundred and forty-four.

 

Artur, Wainwright, twelve by twelve, 144 - idiot!  Words, words!

 

Where is the candle - now!  It sits on a tall plinth, in the chamber of memory, what else is there?  Green silk flags, one-hundred and forty four.

 

And doors?  How do you enter?  A spiral staircase, leading to the skies, to gates and grates, and murder holes, barred and protected and defended by secrets!

 

+What can I do for you, Librarian?+

 

Willpower test in case Degier is peeking:

WP: 56 +10 (Resistance) + 20 (Mental Fortitude) =86

D100: 82 Pass, no DoS.

Edited January 27, 2022 by Mazer Rackham

[Lysimachus]

Degier steps off to one side, a darker corner of the chamber where Ghoran had been entertaining his fellow Iron Gods. He dismisses Matthias from earshot and waves for you to follow. He speaks softly, taking in your stiff, guarded posture, immediately recognising the reason for it.

 

"Do not concern yourself, brother. I am still relatively… new… to my abilities. Furthermore, in my former Chapter such powers were always viewed as evil, wrong. My own attitude was much the same, though I have since been forced to re-evaluate it." Degier sighs. "The point I am attempting to make is that I am not inclined to use these 'gifts' to invade the mind of one I would have as a comrade. I simply wish to talk with you."

[Mazer Rackham]

Evil?

 

One hundred and forty-four - doubled? Two-hundred and thirty-nine...

 

He saw that every time he looked at the reflection of his eyes in the azure crystal of his helm lenses.

 

Doubled? Three-hundred and eleven...

 

Even if it was a necessary evil.

 

Doubled?  Just like mnemonic traps, four-hundred and sixty-eight...

 

+I understand,+ Orphiel dipped his head, canting it to give the appearance of listening. +Speak then, Degier.+

 

Five hundred and one.

[Lysimachus]

The psyker nods.

 

"Good. Let me begin by reminding you that I was there on the day you first came to the Crag. As my Lord Varn's personal advisor, I am fully aware of all the… unusual details… of your arrangement with us... and of the deeper reasons behind them."

 

Your response, as it so often seems to be when a response can be avoided, is silence. Finally Degier snorts in genuine amusement.

 

"Very well. Hold to your secrets. Your guilt or absolution over sins ten millennia old mean less than nothing to me. But it is self-evident, obvious, that a man in your position might find it tempting - or even see it as an obligation? - to work against our quest to find the Pride of Kings."

 

More silence.

 

"My Lord Varn knows it and I do too, for neither of us are fools! He cares little about such games, so sure is his belief in his eventual victory. Perhaps he is right. But… I would appeal to you not to do so. There are reasons why, if you will hear them?"

[Mazer Rackham]

Orphiel let his ruminations slide to the back of his mind.  Like a combustion engine ticking over, the tappet of pistons and cylinders were numbers ticking upwards in the nebulous subconscious.

 

That his plans were anticipated were no surprise.  Operating in the heart of the Crag gave him unfettered opportunity to plan, if not to act.  Degier and Varn weren't fools, indeed, but then again he'd never believed anything otherwise.  Being watched was to be expected, and just like that, it was best to do what was expected.

 

No, the real goal was time.  They knew that as the enterprise continued - as foolish as it was, weighing heavy with greed, or perhaps want over any virtue of reason - there would be a time, a place, a flaw.  And they couldn't foresee that.  Orphiel suspected what Degier was doing.  It was a common enough interrogation technique "we know everything, you might as well tell us anyway."

 

How many times had he used it?

 

This was the trick.  Silence.  When you'd been caught doing it, when everyone knew you'd done it - you still didn't have to admit to it.  Degier's amusement at his staunch wall was misplaced, also a mistake, for Degier had gone on to climb it.  Still, he wasn't prepared to put his head in the noose.  Behave as expected.  They expected him to listen, heed the warning.  It was interesting, since the last time the two met, as the Librarian rightly claimed, a...weaker man....had his arms torn off by a crazed dreadnought.  Ah, so this was the carrot, then.  Yet this unmasking of intention, the hands open required a response.

 

+I know not of what you speak.  I have conducted myself as our agreement, but I shall hear you.  Please attend me...comrade.+

 

He kept his head bowed and led, hearing and feeling the footfalls of the Librarian behind him, until he stopped, and ushered the Thought-thief into the small book repository he'd passed earlier.  He sealed the door behind the two warriors, for privacy, before reaching up to drop his hood and unclasp the seals of his helmet.

 

He felt the stir of circulated air, the dull, welcome stale scent of dusty tomes and burned tallow.  He looked at Degier with his flesh eyes, a piercing blue gaze of a winter Allhallow dawn, before running a hand through close cropped hair the colour of bright wheat.  A crooked elbow trapped his Mk IV Maximus helm to his side for easy donning.

 

"I am listening."

Edited January 27, 2022 by Mazer Rackham

[Machine God]

Sgt Ghoran looked at the Draak with a wry grin.

 

"Aye lad, I'd heard you were making your mark. Good for you. Well, we've got a couple of days while Achard gets his ship checked over. First thing tomorrow we'll be talking to Lang to see what he knows. You and any of your team who want to be there can join us. Until then, get a few hours rest, get your kit serviced, you know the drill. Clear?"

 

"Affirmative" answered Draak. "Until tomorrow."

 

Draak about turned and left, as he did so he cast an appreciative glance over the initiate and nodded to the swordsman.

 

Draak went to the range and talked with Grendel.

 

++Kill-Team Cutlass this is your Sergeant speaking. Lang will be spoken to tomorrow about what he knows about the Pride of Kings. Master Sergeant Ghoran informed me that any member of Cutlass could attend the interrogation with me. Draak, out++

[Lysimachus]

Degier smiles thinly at the supposed show of openness.

 

"Have you ever heard how I came to join the Iron Gods, Orphiel? I was lost, without purpose, hiding in a self-imposed exile of loathing and guilt. When Varn came for me, I felt no less contempt for a traitor like him than I did for a witch such as myself. I fully intended to cast his offer back in his teeth and finally die as cleanly as I could."

 

He pauses, obviously remembering.

 

"But something spoke to me. Something from beyond, but at the same time from within me. (OOC: See the end of the short story 'Recruitment', linked at the end of the IT:Iron Gods article!) I had to make a choice. Varn is a tyrant, a murderer, a renegade… but he is, from all I can determine, also a man of honour, beneath the theatrics and the bravado. Most importantly, his actions will eventually be for Humanity's good."

 

He smiles, but it is not a happy one.

 

"I have seen it again and again in the years since that day. In my dreams, in my waking thoughts. There are dark times coming for mankind, Orphiel. I see it as surely as I see you standing before me, and those days are getting closer. Perhaps it is the end of all things."

 

He shrugs, fatalistic about things that are beyond his control.

 

"In truth, I can see little hope. However, a not insignificant part of that little hope rests here, in the Solios Nebula and on Talek Varn's shoulders. The Iron Gods have a vital part to play and will need to be as strong as possible in order to hold against the threat that is coming. To simply survive. The Pride of Kings can serve us in the task ahead. I have come to believe that the Pride was fated to be lost, hidden and stored up for a greater purpose, a greater destiny. The salvation of world after world and the lives of billions upon countless billions of men and women."

 

He looks at Orphiel, eyes unfathomable.

 

"We are renegades to the Imperium here, it is true, but there are very few who have turned their backs entirely on their duty to mankind. I know I have not. I hope, given what I have recently learned about the Dark Angels and their Successors, that one of their scions might understand a simple truth: that what is best, what is necessary for Humanity to survive... is not always what is right in the eyes of the Adepts of Terra. I hope this, Orphiel, because I am convinced that you also have a part to play."

 

He falls silent for a moment, then shrugs again and turns to leave. As he does, he offers a few final words.

 

"Think on it. Now go. Train your little Aspirant, if you wish. It might even keep him alive, when the time comes."

[Mazer Rackham]

No answer was required, the Thought-stealer finished his proselytising and in an acrid air of bitter adrenaline, left the comfortable library.

 

Orphiel waited for a long time, long enough to test the patience of any eavesdropper, motionless, still.  He rolled the helmet down his arm, catching it by the faceplate and rim of the casque, donning it in one swift motion.

 

When atmosphere and neural connections restored with a frisson of electrical burning behind his eyes, he accessed his datavault.

 

"Replay," he whispered, listening.

 

"...Think on it. Now go. Train your little Aspirant, if you wish. It might even keep him alive, when the time comes."

 

Not bad quality.  That would certainly be enough for a voiceprint.

 

Orphiel left the library, gently whistling under his helm as he drew up his hood.

Edited January 27, 2022 by Mazer Rackham

[Lysimachus]

Degier sighed heavily as he walked along the arched steel corridor. Pitiable, blind, self-righteous fool. Continuing to play his Legion's childish games of secrets, silence and spycraft, refusing to consider for even a second any idea that went beyond their indoctrination. No, he thought sadly. Not refusing. Unable. That was what made it so pitiful.

 

For a moment he had been tempted to simply reach out and psychically kick over the sandcastle Orphiel had built and blow out his ridiculous candle. An easy enough thing. Then, in the darkness, Degier could have made the Angel see the things that he himself had seen. The horrors.

 

Lord Varn had been right, though. As usual. How had he put it? "There's none so blind…" Something like that. They would have to help Orphiel more slowly, more gently. If that was even possible. A mind so fettered might not ever be able to free itself. A mind forced to see a truth that it did not wish to see might snap like a twig.

 

Furthermore, the current watch upon him would have to be continued. There was too much at stake to allow one lost child to cause trouble. But the Traveller was gone, and Degier was not sure his replacement as Sergeant would have the temperament necessary to observe and wait rather than simply putting a heavy bolter round through Orphiel's skull as a traitor? Perhaps the Apothecary? Certainly more subtle, but no less bloodthirsty. Or the Witch? One of the others?

 

After a moment's thought, he opened his voxlink.

[Lysimachus]

"To Plunder the Stars Themselves"

Episode III: Heralds of a New Dawn

L

ess than twenty-four hours have passed. Kill-Team Cutlass - minus several members, including its former leader - finds itself assembled in the open hall below the Command deck and Varn's staterooms. The Tyrant is not here, but Degier and Ghoran are. Varn's Master Sergeant has invited you, along with Holger and Captain Achard, to be present when they speak to Lieutenant Lang, so that you may add any questions you wish. Degier stands off to one side, half hidden in shadow and appearing lost in thought, but Ghoran has seated himself against the edge of a large crate in the centre of the hold. He looks around you.

"Three down, seven to go," he quips with his usual comradely grin. "So, I hear it's gonna be Sergeant Draak, right? All of you good with that?"

Before anyone can answer, Lang arrives, hustled into the hall by two of Varn's mortal armsmen. He looks in better health than Beta found him in at the Arbites stockade and also seems to have regained some of the stiff, upright bearing of a Naval officer. A careful observer, though, would notice the underlying tension that the man cannot fully hide. Ghoran casually waves the guards away and speaks without moving from his seated position. So it seems he will be conducting the interrogation?

"Gunther Lang, formerly First Lieutenant aboard the Imperial Navy vessel…" he looks at a dataslate he pulls from a pouch at his belt, "Trailblazer... and you claim to have uncovered the location of the legendary vessel, the Pride of Kings."

He places the slate down beside him, then continues in his usual bluff, informal manner.

"But surely it's just a bloody myth? What I don't get is how could something so grand, so important, stay hidden when treasure hunters have been searching for it for thousands of years?"

Lang snorts, pique suddenly and momentarily overcoming trepidation. When he replies he sounds like an exasperated lector admonishing a student for asking a foolish question.

"It is real! I have seen it with my own eyes! Do you not understand anything about the galaxy you live in at all? A 'Space' Marine, yet you know nothing about it! Think for a moment, picture a map of the great Imperium of Man. Around a million Imperial systems, stars with one or more Imperial worlds in their orbits. Sounds like a lot, yes…? But there are approximately four hundred billion stellar objects in this galaxy!"

Lang's peevishness is fading, transforming into eagerness as he speaks about what is obviously his favourite subject. His pace increases along with his enthusiasm.

"That means for every single world plotted on that vast Imperial map - every single one! - there are perhaps four hundred thousand stars that are not! In the Kharidys Sector, with twenty six inhabited systems at last count, that makes for something approaching ten and a half million stars. Some systems are controlled by Xenos empires, Orks and such, but the vast majority are entirely unknown! Moreover, consider also the distance between just two of those stars. At Humanity's fastest sub-warp speeds, it would still take hundreds - if not thousands - of years for a vessel to cross such a void! Believe me, sir, the galaxy is vast and dark and deep on a scale beyond your wildest imagination. There could be things hidden out there you haven't even dreamed of…"

He finally shrugs and intones with an amused, scholarly air:

"Here... be... dragons…!"

Ghoran - who could easily crush Lang's skull, even without his power fist - generously overlooks the officer's initial condescension, focusing instead on keeping him talking. His method of interrogation, if that is what this is, is remarkably subtle… and effective.

"Fair enough, lad, fair enough… seems like you were damn lucky to find anything at all, then?

"It was our job," Lang sniffs, "...but in truth, yes. Pure luck. Astral cartography is my field. Trailblazer is… was?… an Explorator ship. Asp-class, the smallest warp capable design I know of. An engine, a command deck, Gellar field generator, powerful augurs, and very little else. Less than four hundred metres from bow to stern. Tiny crew. No Navigator, too small, but we could safely manage short hop warp jumps from one system to the next. Pick a new star and see what's there! Very exciting, yes? Over a year ago, we entered an uninhabited system perhaps fifty light-years to the galactic south-east of the Viorda star. During the survey we picked up a passive return on the very limits of our augurs. It was well beyond the Mandeville Point, drifting in the deep black. A few hundred thousand kilometres more and we wouldn't have picked it up at all, that's how narrow a margin it was. That's where we found her."

"Her? Describe what you found." Degier interrupts from the shadows, his tone controlled but perceptibly tense.

"A ship, sir. Dead in the void. A large vessel, easily greater in tonnage than a Retribution or Apocalypse-class battleship. I did not recognize its pattern, but it appeared to be of Mechanicus or perhaps Astartes design." He smiles thinly. "Blocky. Utilitarian. Not a warship, though it appeared well enough armed for defence, had its systems been operational. A few of the crew were already talking about the legend of Vespucci and the Pride of Kings. We docked with it. It seemed to be a ghost, completely empty of life from the little we explored. There was a wealth of materiel in storage though; armour, weapons, vehicles! We did not have the resources to attempt reignition of the plasma drives or to effect a full salvage, so we marked its position on our charts, took several items to prove what we had found and started making our way back towards the nearest Imperial system."

Ghoran smiles wolfishly.

"And then somewhere along the way, someone decided instead of turning it over to the authorities, you'd all get rich?"

Lang shifts uncomfortably.

"The Captain… felt that there would be no harm… that is, I did not really approve, but…"

Ghoran holds his hand up to forestall the excuses. Degier steps forward suddenly, looming over the officer.

"You can give us the location of this vessel?"

"...I... cannot point to it directly on a map," Langs admits, cringing back. "The stellar coordinates were recorded in the cogitators on board the Trailblazer, but they were all lost when the ship disappeared!" he rushes to explain. "When they left me behind on Viorda Prime, those fools must have just jumped blind as fast and far away as they could to try and lose that damn patrol! Without a Navigator aboard, it's no wonder they vanished!"

Looking up at the psyker's growing frown, Lang babbles on.

"But I do know where we started from, you see? The last place named on any chart of the Kharidys Sector that we visited was the Rhogau system. Not much there, certainly no civilised planets, just a grubby little frontier world and a mining colony station in orbit around a gas giant. From there we moved out and surveyed five more systems. The ship was on the edge of the sixth. I can remember enough details about each of those systems to find them again and retrace our steps. Back on Viorda Prime, I was trying to get together enough Thrones to charter a ship to Rhogau and then find my way back to the treasure. That dirty little grounder Dexter sold me out to the monster Jinsho before I could. But if you can get me to the Rhogau system, I can take us the rest of the way."

Degier does not respond. After a moment he returns to the shadows, waving for Ghoran to continue. The Sergeant stares at Lang with narrowed eyes, thinking carefully. Then finally he nods and looks around the Kill-Team.

"That's the plan, then. Any other questions? If not, you've got another…" he looks at Achard for confirmation that the Dagger Thrust's maintenance checks will be complete, "...twenty-four hours to ready yourselves. Take whatever you need from the Armorium, though hopefully this should be a simple recon mission into empty star systems. No fighting, no fuss. When… if… you find the ship, transmit your location back to us immediately." He grins. "We'll be along."

***

Welcome to Episode III!

Feel free to post your thoughts on the story Lang has told of finding the Pride of Kings, and any additional questions you might have for him.

Also, the team has lost several members, the Traveller leaving and Radago S'ynek and Ithan Redcloak currently assigned to other duties. Thus far no one has contested Draak having taken command. How do you feel about the departures, or the Devastator's leadership? If anyone wishes to challenge or oppose him, now is the last chance!

Lastly, your Requisition for Ep.III will be: 35 Req per Player for a total of 245 Req. The Sheets file for Ep.II has been updated for Ep.III so please add your selections there (everyone should still have access?)

[Trokair]

The Voidborn listened with intent, for while the prize might be naught but fables, the telling of the tale would show whether the little navy man knew his voidcraft, and if so how plausible the rest of his words would prove.

 

As sergeant Ghoran finished Brynjarr leaned forward, staring intently at Lang.

 

“If you saw this ship then there is surly more you can tell us of its location. In the void nothing is stationary, how will we even know if it is still in system or if it has passed on. Give us details.”

 

While he had not had specific need of his knowledge of Voidcraft in a while it was all easily recalled.

 

“Was the ship caught in orbit, and if so it’s Orbital path, inclination to the solar plane, rotational coefficient and in relation to what axis. If not then trajectory and delta/v are more important.”

 

Even as Lang had spoken Brynjarr had searched remembered start charts for the system names mention, to try and pin the likely system down further.

 

“The six unnamed systems, describe their suns, their composition and spectrum, also any details planetary bodies and other sub stellar features of note. If we are retracing steps we will want more than vague recollections of maybe this way maybe that way?”

Edited April 1, 2022 by Trokair

[Machine God]

Punctual as ever Draak entered the open hall at the head of Kill-Team Cutlass, he took a place to the left and watched his squad file past him and take up positions so that he could observe them and the spectacle. Holger and Captain Achard had also been invited to the meeting and were already in attendance.

 

Draak noted that Degier was there stood off to one side, half hidden in shadow and appearing lost in thought, and Master Sergeant Ghoran had seated himself against the edge of a large crate in the centre of the hold. This interrogation was going to be his show.

"Three down, seven to go," he quipped with his usual comradely grin. "So, I hear it's gonna be Sergeant Draak, right? All of you good with that?"

Before anyone could answer, Lang arrived and the questioning began.

 

Draak with his compartmentalised mind listened to the spectacle and also watched Kill-Team Cutlass.

 

"Here... be... dragons…!"

 

Ha! thought Draak, we've all seen plenty of those.

"Her? Describe what you found." Degier interrupted from the shadows, his tone controlled but perceptibly tense.

"A ship, sir. Dead in the void. A large vessel, easily greater in tonnage than a Retribution or Apocalypse-class battleship. I did not recognize its pattern, but it appeared to be of Mechanicus or perhaps Astartes design." He smiles thinly. "Blocky. Utilitarian. Not a warship, though it appeared well enough armed for defence, had its systems been operational. We did not have the resources to attempt reignition of the plasma drives or to effect a full salvage, so we marked its position on our charts, took several items to prove what we had found and started making our way back towards the nearest Imperial system."

Ghoran smiled wolfishly.

"And then somewhere along the way, someone decided instead of turning it over to the authorities, you'd all get rich?"

Lang then went on about how he got captured on Viorda Prime, but that he knew how to get to the ship's location from another system.

"That's the plan, then. Any other questions? If not, you've got another…" he looked at Achard for confirmation that the Dagger Thrust's maintenance checks would be complete, "...twenty-four hours to ready yourselves. Take whatever you need from the Armourium, though hopefully this should be a simple recon mission into empty star systems. No fighting, no fuss. When… if… you find the ship, transmit your location back to us immediately." He grinned. "We'll be along."
 

"Too right we're heading to the Armourium, Ghoran! Ghost Ships full of plunder floating around the cosmos are never empty." said Draak. "Oi Lang! This Pride of Kings you said that it was a single ship. It better not be a Space Hulk!"

 

 

 

 

Edited June 10, 2023 by Machine God