To Plunder The Stars Themselves, Episode III

[Machine God]

+Good thinking Brother Svelk, set up your munitions+ said Draak mag-locking Grendel to his backpack.

+We need to climb to the Command Deck and shut down these Vorax to secure this vessel. Mag-Boots are slow but we can use the lift cables to practically fly along the lift shaft thanks to the Zero-G. We go now, Svelk can follow with his jetpack+

 

 

 

AGL 44 + (Climbing) = 44. Result: 28, Pass 1DoS

 

 

Draak disengaged his mag-boots as he ran for the open shaft and launched himself towards the lift cables. He grabbed the cables and climbed.

 

 

Edited December 17, 2022 by Machine God

[Beren]

'I'm not your brother', Svelk hisses, but the squad leader has already vanished into the lift-shaft. The void-born reaches across to hammer a fist down on Orphiel's nearest pauldron.

 

+++That was fun, but you'd better get going. All of you. Not the first time I've done this.+++

 

With that he pulls himself out of the landspeeder's gunner position and maneuvers onto the floor. He waits for the other Astartes to disappear into the shaft, then sets out about his work, calmly inspecting the corridor. The floor, then the walls, then the ceiling. These... Vorax would, after all, make use of all four.  Just as he would, as any true voidborn would. Not enough to think of it in the terms bound by gravity. This did, in turn, make things harder for him. More space to cover, less guarantee that the automata would be there to set off the mines.

 

The entrance to the shaft itself, that was the chokepoint. That was where the trap would be set. One trip-wire across the entry-way, with each facet of the door-frame lined with the micro-mines. It would be obvious, but if they were in a rush, they might just not have time to adjust their course. As for the other...

Svelk, mag-boots off, uses his axe-rake and knife to maneuver himself over to where the gutted landspeeder drifts. The thing was dead. Salvageable for scrap, but little else. Irritating, but in this case what he needed. It wouldn't do to further damage the surviving vehicle, or the automata components drifting through the corridor.

 

With predators such as these...

 

Svelk re-engages his mag-boots and begins to tug the wreck over to the shaft entrance. He lines one side of the wreckage with the micro-mines, the side facing the corridor, then steps into the shaft, tugging the reck after him until it blocked the entrance. He takes the triggering trip-wire - attaches one end to the door frame and the other to the wreck. Tug the wreck away to access the shaft, or try to cut through it for that matter, and whoever was on the other side would have an unpleasant surprise. He lines the frame with the other batch of micro-explosives, sets up the second trip-line. Distant, still far-way, he can hear the growing sound of booming claw-falls, but he's already pulling his way up the shaft. It's a fair distance before he realises that turning the speeder into an expanding hail of shrapnel will probably set off the trip-wire in the doorway as well. Irritating. A waste of resources. Still, he thought to himself as he pulled himself faster and faster up the shaft, there was something reassuring about this. Familiar.

 

 

Ag44 + 20 = 64

d100: 95 (3 DoF)

d100: 12 (5DoS)

[Mazer Rackham]

The resounding thump was approbation enough, and Orphiel smiled under his helm.  As the assault marine set about his business, Orphiel took Svelk's advice.  When a demolition expert advised to leave the zone, it was wise to obey.

He swarmed up the cable, leaving the kill zone behind.

[Lysimachus]

Disengaging your magboots, it is a simple matter to step across nothingness to the heavy cables and then pull yourselves rapidly hand over hand up the shaft.

When you reach the highest set of doors and force them open you find yourselves in a wide, high ante-chamber. Beyond it you can see what must be your goal, the bridge!

As on most Imperial vessels, there is a massively thick security bulkhead door hanging ominously over the threshold. However, like most of the access points aboard this ship it seems to have been left open -  presumably so the Automata guardians could defend it if necessary… not that anyone other than you appears to have ever made it this far.

You are about to pass through the portal when you hear a noise from the lift shaft behind you. There is a sudden flash of light followed a fraction of a second later by a pair of muffled thumps. The Vorax have arrived… and set off Svelk's trap!

Vorax Awareness Test: Per 45, Roll: 61, Fail!

As there are (at least!) 6 Vorax below, I'm going to roll a d5+1 to see how many of them are far enough forward to be caught in the blast?

d5 Roll: 4!
Cluster Mine Damage 4d10 X Pen4x2=8
6+3+5+10(!) +(RF=4) = 27 - TB12 - AP3(11-Pen8) = 12.
First 5 Vorax each suffer 12 Wounds!

 

There is a long moment of silence. Holger drops back to look down the shaft. He hovers over the edge for a few seconds, then suddenly yells and pushes off the door frame, hurriedly launching himself through the air and past you towards the bridge. He shouts a warning as he flies across the ante-chamber.

"Looks like they took some damage, but they're still coming!"

Behind him you can hear scraping and bumping, and over that the furious chittering of what sounds like a whole swarm of angry Automata.

As you cross over the threshold onto the bridge, you might spot a pair of pressure pads just larger than an outspread hand, with black and yellow hazard striping all around them. They are each mounted on the bulkhead wall just below eye level on either side of the doorway.

***

[Machine God]

The Bridge - Finally! thought Draak, as he strode purposefully forwards looking for controls and cogitator banks. Draak had to duck his head slightly to get under the open blast door waiting fixed in its open position, like a steel trap waiting to sever the unwary in its jaws.

There was an explosion report from the lift shaft, the Vorax had initiated Svelks trap.

Behind Draak, Holger shouted a warning as he flew into the Bridge.

"Looks like they took some damage, but they're still coming!"

Draak's auto-senses picked up the furious chittering of what sounds like a whole swarm of angry Automata. He turned and watched.

 

 

Per 43 -10 (Difficult) +5 (Auto-Senses) +10 (Occulobe) = 48. Result: 19, Pass 2DoS

 

As the rest of Killteam Cutlass crossed over the threshold onto the bridge, Draak pressed his open guantlet down on to the blast door release.

SLAM! 

"That should hold them for a bit!" stated Draak. "Orphiel assist Holger with the data from your Siege Auspex, we need power to the cogitator arrays if I am to shut down those Vorax!"

 

Edited June 27, 2022 by Machine God
typo

[Mazer Rackham]

Orphiel nodded and gently twisted the dials mounted on the augur, tuning the discovery spirits.

Spoiler

Siege Auspex Test for power channels:

Int 53 + 20 (Auspex) = 73?

D100: 52, PASS, Plus 2 DoS.

 

[Lysimachus]

Even as you see the first constructs claw their way over the lip of the lift shaft, Draak presses the pad and the great blast door drops ponderously down. It hits the deck with a hollow boom. A fraction of a second later, you hear the sound of several heavy objects smashing into the barrier, followed by rotor cannons firing. The door is pummelled, vibrating like a drum, but for now appears to be holding.

You have your first opportunity to look around the bridge. It is much as one would expect; a long, high chamber shaped like a demi-ellipse, with a raised command dais and throne, a hololith projector at the centre and several crew stations at seated cogitator consoles. There are not as many of the last as one would expect to find on even a smaller ship like the Dagger Thrust. Instead, like the vessels of the Adeptus Astartes, many systems appear to be heavily automated. The chamber is without windows of any kind, but a linked bank of huge viewer screens is mounted along the forward wall in a wide curve.

Somehow, unlike the rest of the ship, the bridge already seems to have some power? Although the lighting is extremely dim, it is working. A few of the cogitators seem to be on standby. 

Orphiel's augur reading also shows something directly under the deck. A sizeable piece of machinery, a large crucible shape with many pipes and other technological devices around it. It emits a low level of power. Holger looks at the auspex display and then around the bridge wonderingly.

"It must be a generator, perhaps a subsidiary plasma reactor? Running on too low a level to cause an energy spike on another ship's augurs, but it wouldn't need much power just to keep a few key cogitators operational? And internal scanners linked to wake the Automata if intruders are detected, perhaps? Maybe that's what those boxes and conduits above each of the doors were? It's incredible that it is still functional."

Without asking permission, he floats over, takes a seat at one of the monitors and calmly pulls out an electro-graft interface from the numerous wires that run along the length of his arm. He attaches it into a socket on the console. After a moment, green light fills the screen. In one quarter of the screen it shows a plan of the ship. The rest of the display is covered by blocks of tiny script.

Unfortunately this script is not Gothic, either High or Low. Instead, all the displays are filled with a series of harsh, angular runic symbols. Holger frowns and stops dead.

At the entrance to the bridge, more massive blows hammer against the blast door.

***

Edited June 28, 2022 by Lysimachus

[Lysimachus]

Most of your examinations reveal little. It is definitely not a letter replacement cipher, like the simple code used by Dex on Viorda Prime. In fact, it seems not to be an encryption at all, but rather an entire language, with its own morphology and syntax!

 

@Vesalius: After a moment, you realise that you recognise the language! It is an old, rarely used Battle Cant of your former Chapter, that you learned by hypno-indoctrination during your transformation into an Astartes countless years ago. According to the lore of your once-brethren, it is supposedly the language of a dead world long gone, its native speakers extinct for countless centuries. You cannot imagine how or why it was used here, but you find you can read it as naturally as drawing breath!

***

I'll leave Necro to think about what language it might be, and what that might say about the origins of the Pride...

[Machine God]

"Does anyone read Fenrisian?" asked Draak.

[Beren]

Svelk gives the machinery and lettering a cursory glance, but once he establishes that it has no meaning to him he jumps, inverting himself so that he now stands on the ceiling next to the bulkhead, waiting to see if the hunter-killers can effect a breach.

[Mazer Rackham]

Instead of keeping our foes without, we have merely locked ourselves in.

Seeing Svelk's acrobatics, Orphiel kept his counsel over the runes, which made no sense to his eyes.  Instead, he would let the others think him a fool other than prove it by some languid witticism, apropos of nothing other than the quick twitch of a Corvid Beak from the Quack.

Interesting.

He took station diagonally across from the door, just out of direct line of fire, but where he could get an angle on the threshold.  It was the point of maximum resistance in the room, and he buried himself behind consoles and panels, bracing Argo against the tallest giving him shelter.  His free hand drew up his hood, warplate registering the slip of the weave - perhaps the shroud he would be wrapped in.

In and out, he breathed, the rhythm of control.  Kill urge was tamed with the Lion's discipline.

Kraken analogues rotated into the feed ramp, at his insistence, before thumbing the bolt release.  The action clunked forward and locked.

Now they waited.

Edited June 28, 2022 by Mazer Rackham
Typo begone - BLAM!

[Black Cohort]

what do the wolves have to do with this ship?

[Necronaut]

As the blast door closed with a dull thud behind him, Vesalius followed the rest into the dimly-lit bridge. This most recent adventure grew weirder by the minute! As he crossed the threshold into the chamber he was struck again by the strangeness of it all, and yet also by an uncanny sense of familiarity.

 

He vaguely followed behind Holger, unable to shake the odd sense of déjà vu, like some long-dormant genetic memory that had remained trapped in his species's cerebral circuitry for hundreds of generations before becoming active again in him. As he watched centuries-old dust motes dance in the light cast by his shoulder-mounted torch, Holger muttered to himself about power conduits or somesuch – he was only half-listening. As the little man floated over to and seated himself in front of a command interface, Vesalius tracked his movements as if watching a dream play out in front of his eyes. The screen flashed a sickly green, and some of the others crowded in close to examine its message, but to no avail.

 

Vesalius found himself pushing through the scrum of power armor-clad giants to stand over Holger's shoulder.

 

What… ?!

 

His eyes widened and his jaw dropped open in utter disbelief at the sharp, angular runic script displayed in decaying vermillion before him. Spoken aloud, he knew the language would be slightly musical and sensuous, but dripping with the cruelty and darkness of the culture that birthed it. It was a language that smiled at you while twisting the knife. 

 

Words came to him unbidden, words from a tongue which no mortal had uttered in those confines in over one hundred centuries. Words of the dead. 

 

+Vaya vey ne'sha,+ he breathed over the squad vox.

 

No, wait -- I do understand!

 

He stood agog for a few moments longer before leaning in closer, his beaked helm poking over Holger's shoulder as he peered intently at the display. 

 

+These runes… Holger, this is… this is impossible!+

 

He took a step back, his head suddenly spinning as an entire hypno-indoctrinated language came crashing back to the fore of his mind. Gasping for breath and shaking his head as the fleeting moment of vertigo passed, he gripped Holger's chair to steady himself and leaned back in close.

 

+This is not Fenrisian, Draak– far, far from it. The original name of this tongue has been lost to the passage of time, but…+

 

He continued looking on in shocked disbelief at what he was reading. Life support system readings. Oxygen levels. Carbon monoxide levels. Power feed relays. Power feed sub-relays. Short-range augur readings. Long-range augur readings. Hull integrity. Secondary hull integrity. Tertiary hull integrity. Weapon systems. Log entries… 

 

It was all there. Anything and everything you could possibly want to know about a ship of the line.

 

+But who, who in the name of Terra would have translated everything into this vernacular?!+

 

He looked around at the rest of the Kill-Team trying to make sense of what he was reading, what was plainly displayed before him. It was just a secondary and very rarely used battle-cant! And one which they only seemed to bother with hypno-indoctrinating into the neophytes for the sake of tradition. But the way in which it was written on the screen, with the way in which the idiosyncrasies of the syntax were correctly conveyed as if by a native speaker… 

 

Another booming crash from the far side of the blast door snapped him out of his stupor.

 

+Holger,+ he said coldly, +follow my instructions exactly as I dictate them.+

 

He knelt down next to the scrawny man and started pointing to different objects and runes on the interface in rapid succession.

 

+Here. Here. This one. This one… yes, next. Now… Here, this controls the automated defensive systems.+

 

CRUNCH!

 

+Yes, good. Here. Yes, this one+

 

WHAM!

 

+Now, quickly! Deactivate the hunter-killers! Here! This one! NOW!+

 

Edited June 29, 2022 by Necronaut

[Lysimachus]

Holger attempts to obey Vesalius' orders. His hands are just above the surface of the smooth, flat console, fingers slowly pressing noospheric keys and icons that only his eyes can see. But as he does so, another image keeps flashing up on the screen and then after a moment it returns to the opening display.

Finally he looks round with another frown.

"Damnation, it's sealed! Right now, I can see all the main sections but I only have limited access to what I think… is the non-secure data? Ship's manifest, old star charts, personal logs. But environmental controls, navigation, engines, weapons and internal security -  as you said, my lord, that one might control the Vorax? - have all been protected by a password. It's truly odd, but the input for the password seems to have been set to High Gothic?"

The little spy presses a few more invisible keys, again causing the password screen to flash up so you can view it.

Then he returns to scanning through the sections that are accessible, trying to find a backdoor into the secure systems. After a moment he pauses, eyes narrowing.

"Hold on… this is interesting… the Logs are almost non-existent, but there is one slightly larger set of files. It doesn't seem to have many entries, but perhaps there's a clue in there somewhere? Maybe you could translate them for us, my lord Apothecary?"

Again the sound of the Vorax intrudes upon the quiet chamber. Through sheer, violent determination, they will surely soon be with you on the bridge.

Holger grins his lopsided grin, slightly nervous this time.

"Fairly quickly?"

***

Edited June 29, 2022 by Lysimachus

[Lysimachus]

Assume that the following is read aloud (or transcribed?) by Vesalius:

+++982u.PoK.14256-trw-877.CS.001+++

 

+++This is my first personal log entry aboard the 'Pride of Kings'. I am Callistrus Sovrak, Legionnes Astartes, of the Librar… of course I am not.+++

 

+++982u.PoK.14256-trw-878.CS.002+++

Spoiler

]+++I am Callistrus Sorvak, Legionnes Astartes, line trooper, and acting Captain of this vessel, the Pride of Kings. It is a gift to our Legion from the great forges of Xhoria, after we aided them during the Compliance of Sub-sector 244-AGT-425 more than seven decades ago. Until I arrived, we had no idea of what manner of gift we were being given, the Xhorians simply asked us to come. I was dispatched to Xhoria over a year ago to collect it. I have travelled alone, except for the crew aboard my frigate, the Swift Hunter, which will now act as our only escort on the long journey back to our fleet.

 

In truth, after Nikaea I do not think Legion Command knew what else to do with me.+++

 

 

+++982u.PoK.14257-trw-038.CS.003+++

Spoiler

+++The Pride has turned out to be a princely gift indeed. It is a forgeship, intended to follow in the wake of our warships and provide logistical support. For such a purpose, it is truly well made. The Xhorians have always been builders rather than destroyers. It is why they needed us.

 

I have toured the vast storage holds, full to the brim with weapons, armour, vehicles, bionics and other equipment… the ship's manifest seems nearly endless. Beyond the cargo bays are the Forges where wargear can be repaired or even constructed from raw materials, and the Apothecarion where our injured warriors can be likewise remade. I understand from the eager Magos that guided me that the gene-labs would even be capable of full cultivation, storage and implantation if it were necessary, a birthplace of new Astartes to fight for the Emperor and Humanity. Certainly we will have need of that feature…

 

The ship itself is also remarkable. No match for a Gloriana, by any means, but it still has powerful engines, thick armour, impressive defences. More than this, its level of automation is simply staggering! My guide said it had been rebuilt and refitted from a relic of the Dark Age of Technology that the Xhorians had possessed for centuries. Certainly, many of the internal workings are beyond my understanding. I believe that it might even be possible for a small, capable crew to fly it from the bridge. It is a truly miraculous vessel.

 

Yet oddly, this marvel currently under my command bears none of the markings of our Legion. Nor does any of the materiel stored in the hold. Nor, indeed, does the MkVI battle-plate that I am wearing now, claimed from those stores in place of my Librarius suit.

 

The Xhorians explained to me that they did not wish to 'unintentionally dishonour us' by displaying our heraldry incorrectly. When I heard this I had to conceal my amusement! The Tech-adepts are… very precise, but we are not a Legion that cares about such details.

 

However, they have tried to show respect for us in other ways. For example, I have noticed that the shipboard environment has been set to a level I find… comfortable. Interfaces with cogitator systems use the language of our homeworld rather than Imperial Gothic, though I understand that can changed if required.

 

But it does not bear our colours, and it does not yet feel like it is ours.

 

I have found only one piece of decoration across the entire ship. Here on the bridge, above the main viewer, is a piece of High Gothic script: "And thus shall the pride of all kings be brought down to the dust, by the hand of time." I suspect it must be a quotation from or reference to a longer piece of verse, but the author is not known to me.+++

 

+++982u.PoK.14257-trw-352.CS.004+++

Spoiler

+++I am eager to bring this vessel back to my brethren.

It feels… strange… to be here. Alone, without my brothers, without their sigils, their icons, their laughter surrounding me. I have had… visions. Bloody, violent ones. This in itself concerns me not at all. Visions are part of my birthright, and my Legion has a reputation for bloodthirst, a reputation we have carefully cultivated. What does concern me is the nature of those who I see fighting. Astartes battle Astartes, in a war where no quarter is offered or asked for. They fight each other to the death.

I am eager to bring this vessel back to my brethren. It is madness, but somehow I am certain it is going to be needed.+++
 

 

+++982u.PoK.14257-trw-561.CS.005+++

Spoiler

+++I do not know how to begin. My bloody visions are fulfilled. War. Treachery. We have heard only rumours, but they claim that the Warmaster Horus has turned against our father the Emperor. At Istvaan, his forces - not just his own, but other Primarchs and their sons as well! - have supposedly betrayed and wiped out fully half of the Legions who remained loyal. Hundreds of thousands of warriors have been destroyed. I fea… I am concerned… for my brothers. Could it be that I am the last of my Legion? That my Librarius armour that stands in the cargo hold below is the last place in the galaxy where our heraldry is displayed?

I am diverting us towards the Istvaan system to determine exactly what has happened.+++
 

 

+++982u.PoK.14257-trw-713.CS.006+++

Spoiler

+++It is far worse than I thought.

The Legion has by all accounts not been destroyed. Rather, it is heavily implied that we were part of the coalition that joined with the renegade Warmaster and attacked our brothers!

I am… numb. Horrified…

At least in part.

Another part of my mind is not surprised at all. Perhaps I was foolish to consider any other possibility. Our Primarch has always been… damaged, but especially so after the… loss… of our Homeworld. Most of my brothers have never felt any great love for our Emperor. Many are thugs and butchers. Killers for no other reason than the thrill of it.

I am not like them. When I was recruited, I believed above all else in the concept of justice. The punishment of the wicked. Protection for the righteous. The violence… the terror… the darkness… as a means to a more noble end. Those were ideals that sustained me in my mortal childhood, I am certain. I always thought… hoped… that those ideals guided my genefather too… but now I am forced to re-evaluate.

In truth I wonder if my being chosen to go to Xhoria had anything to do with Nikaea, or my psychic abilities? I now suspect it was actually intended as a fool's errand to retrieve an unimportant tribute, a way to keep an avowed servant of the Emperor out of the way while they did what had to be done. Perhaps they thought that afterwards, with the choice made for me, I would have to join them?

If that is the case, they made two grave errors. Firstly, I am loyal. Secondly, the Xhorians' gift was not some petty, meaningless bauble. It is a treasure, one that will be needed in the dark days to come.+++
 

 

+++982u.PoK.14257-trw-991.CS.007+++

Spoiler

+++I am loyal to the Emperor, to justice. But I do not know what sides others have chosen. I cannot risk blindy taking the Pride out in search of other loyalists, for I might just as easily deliver it into the hands of traitors!

Therefore, I have decided to conceal it… perhaps in some things I am still not so different from my Legion brothers? We have weighed anchor on the very edge of an empty star system, far from any Imperial world. It could lie here for a thousand years without being found!

We will take the Hunter and go looking for allies we can actually trust. Then, when I am confident we have found them, we will return. We will put the Pride to the use it was intended for; sustaining the righteous warriors of the Emperor as they protect the weak and punish the wicked.

I am leaving my Librarius plate aboard. I will not break the edict of the Emperor, even in such maddening times. But I have had the artificers scour all trace of my Legion from it. My former Legion. Its colours, iconography, honours. All gone. The suit now matches with the bare ceramite of the rest of the ship's cargo. Perhaps one day it will serve Humanity again? I have a strange feeling that it will.+++
 

 

+++982u.PoK.14257-trw-996.CS.008+++

Spoiler

+++We are ready to leave. I have seen more visions. Nebulous, far away things… but I believe I have heard the Emperor's words. I will not speak of them now, but they have made me more and more convinced that the Pride of Kings will be needed by Mankind in the future, that I am right to secure it for that day rather than risk it today.

It was my intent to data-wipe this log… but on reviewing it, I am less sure. I do not seem to have named my traitorous Legion once! A curious lapse. Perhaps some part of my foresight already knew and accepted our shame before my conscious mind could? I will certainly not name them now! But a record might prove to be a good thing? If something happens to us and we do not survive to tell our tale - entirely possible, even likely - then perhaps if someone one day reads this log, they will understand why I have acted as I have.

The Xhorians' internal defences are programmed and stand ready. Automata. Ugly bastards, but they will keep watch forever. I have locked down the ship's key systems and protected them with a password. Anyone who boards without the right answer will get a very unpleasant surprise. But I hope that if I have chosen well enough, they will not be activated at all. The Pride of Kings will remain hidden until it is needed.

For the Emperor. Callistrus Sovrak out.+++
 

 

 

 

 

GM: Some of the above information may give you as players some fairly clear hints as to which Legion the Pride (briefly) belonged to. Please bear in mind that these details probably won't mean as much to your characters, except in a general way with what they might already know about the Horus Heresy?

But there may be some hints towards finding the code to unlock the rest of the ship's systems!

Edited June 29, 2022 by Lysimachus

[A.T.]

Odysseus witheld a laugh as he surveyed the bridge, "Foresight is an unforgiving gift". He turned towards Vesalius, "this vessel became his home, do you think he named it such?"

(Nostromo)

[Necronaut]

Vesalius pursed his lips at the librarian's question, the thuds against the blast-door punctuating the silence, before slowly shaking his head. 

 

+Not his home, Odysseus. He left this vessel as a bitter reminder or monument regarding the ambitions of despots, and as a gift, should the Imperium survive. It would seem, from these logs, that the name of this vessel, or at least the phrase from which it is derived, predates its stewardship by this Callistrus Sovrak. It appears he abandoned it to search for new allies. If he named it as such, it was as a warning, and as some sort of cruel jest.+

 

Traitors?! Allies? How does a man, ten millennia dead, speak this language lodged in my mind. Or rather, how do I…?

 

The implications of the line of reasoning he was pursuing led to some truly disturbing conclusions.

 

Were it possible for his compatriots to see his corpse-like visage, they would likely have remarked that he had just grown many shades paler, as if witnessing a ghost. 

 

 

What is, "IUSTITIA"? I'll take "Famous Heretics" for 200, Alex. 

 

Edited June 29, 2022 by Necronaut

[Mazer Rackham]

Orphiel watched the confusion settling across the team, the movements and lack of surety expressed in different ways.  Both he and Svelk ignored the problem, The more inquisitive wrestled with it, whilst Vesalius appeared transfixed.

Decimus' query still hung in the air, the answer not immediately forthcoming as the others turned the possibilities over in their heads, blocking out the threat and working the problem.

+Likely nothing, Decimus. This vessel lacks...the Fenrisian touch.+

He didn't add that it lacked even the cold, no-nonsense approach of the Wolves of Space in the Dark Times.  On top of that, like his own historical Legion, the Wolves were not at Istvaan, sequestered on...business elsewhere.  He pondered Decimus had the same idea.  He dropped onto a private line to the Devastator.

++Who do you think this bounty belongs to, Brother?++

[Machine God]

"I was just brainstorming when I mentioned Fenrisian, it is a runic language Decimus. But Orphiel is right this place isn't festooned with bearskins and teeth." answered Draak. "Vesalius seems to have the gist of it. Ancient hypno-gogic memories from the Predation Fleets no doubt."

"Secret door release panels for Blast Doors surrounded by hazard striped borders. The classic baseline technological fact of Keep It Simple Stupid. Turn it off and turn it back on again. Here we are looking for some fancy cryptic answer when it could be something really simple staring us in the face. Like say PASSWORD"

 

 

Edited December 17, 2022 by Machine God
typo

[Mazer Rackham]

Orphiel smiled under his chisel-faced casque.

He couldn't resist, eyes flicking to the terminal and the gargoyleseque Vesalius.

+Sometimes they even write it down.+

[Necronaut]

Vesalius's eyes narrowed and his features darkened at Draak's off-hand comment and Orphiel's snide remark, but did not turn his helm to look at the either of them. The information contained within these log entries alone was likely worth a king's ransom to the vermin bearing the Inquisition's seal, and he'd be damned if they or anyone affiliated with the Iron Gods learned the revelation unfolding before him. The resurfacing of the ancient tongue from the depths of his memory seemingly triggered, or perhaps influenced, another involuntary hypnogogic response.

 

Protect the Chapter.

 

He would need to direct their thoughts elsewhere, give them something else to ponder. Part of a battle mantra came to mind and he allowed himself a wan smile. 

 

Engage the enemy with what they expect; it is what they are able to discern and confirms their projections.

 

+Yes, yes, you've found me out, Sergeant: I am a predation fleet exile. Exiled for the crime of medical inquiry, shall we say? "Unnatural experimentation," they called it,+ he sighed over the squad vox. +And what of it? We are all outcasts here. Flotsam washed upon an island of misfits. Now unless you wish to contribute something useful, will you please let me…+

 

He trailed off as he turned a passage from one of the log entries over in his head, his trans-human mind picking apart the syntax and logographic information layered into each of the sharp and precise runes present on the display.

 

I am loyal to the Emperor, to justice.

 

Imperator? No…

 

Ju-- erm justitia?! No, Iustitia!

 

His smile widened, and he smugly said to the Tyrant's spy, +Mr. Holger, try "I-U-S-T-I-T-I-A." And quickly.+

 

[Lysimachus]

Holger nods and begins to type. There is a pause of less than a second, then the password screen simply disappears, leaving the main menu open.

"Accessing secure systems... I'm in!" Holger yells.

"Now…" he continues suddenly, "...based on my lord Vesalius' translation of certain other words from the Log… I believe… this option here… will allow me to alter… the language settings… yes, ha ha! Low Gothic!"

He grins almost apologetically up at Vesalius as he taps the final noospheric command.

"I'm sure you'll agree it's... faster... if we can all read the displays, my lord?"

The screen blacks out for a few moments, then the light returns. The strange runes have been totally replaced by the common Gothic language used by humankind across the galaxy! Holger's fingers now fly across icons and keys that are completely familiar.

"Now ordering a full shutdown of internal security… done!"

After several long minutes, the thumps and scrapes against the outer skin of the blast doors suddenly stop and there is quiet on the bridge. The Vorax must have shut down. Holger grins and opens his vox.

+++Captain Achard?
The machine defenders have been neutralised. I am sending you a schematic of the ship. You can begin sending teams… new teams… to secure all key locations.+++

He looks around the bridge, then continues.

+++You might want to come see the Command Deck for yourself, Captain.+++

***

Edited June 29, 2022 by Lysimachus

[Black Cohort]

5 hours ago, Mazer Rackham said:

Orphiel watched the confusion settling across the team, the movements and lack of surety expressed in different ways.  Both he and Svelk ignored the problem, The more inquisitive wrestled with it, whilst Vesalius appeared transfixed.

Decimus' query still hung in the air, the answer not immediately forthcoming as the others turned the possibilities over in their heads, blocking out the threat and working the problem.

+Likely nothing, Decimus. This vessel lacks...the Fenrisian touch.+

He didn't add that it lacked even the cold, no-nonsense approach of the Wolves of Space in the Dark Times.  On top of that, like his own historical Legion, the Wolves were not at Istvaan, sequestered on...business elsewhere.  He pondered Decimus had the same idea.  He dropped onto a private line to the Devastator.

++Who do you think this bounty belongs to, Brother?++

+My chapter is far separated from the legends, rumors and fragments of truths that remain from this era.  Though i am well versed in betrayal by those thought loyal beyond all doubt.+

[Mazer Rackham]

+My chapter is far separated from the legends, rumors and fragments of truths that remain from this era.  Though i am well versed in betrayal by those thought loyal beyond all doubt.+

Orphiel nodded once, his vox carrying an appreciative grunt of reply.  Decimus was divorced enough to be untainted by the betrayal, yet open to hear the truths of witness.  He chose to say nothing in response, finding such sentiment aligned with his own Chapter.  The Angelus Absolutio had worked hard to put such deeds for good or ill behind them.

Holger broke him form the reverie with loud celebration, which caused Orphiel's renewed interest in the agent, and then his consideration of Vasalius' remarks.

He kept Argo trained on the door.

[Necronaut]

Before Holger could rise from his seat or say anything else, an iron grip closed on his right shoulder, squeezing firmly but not painfully. The white-helmed apothecary continued to stare forward at the green-tinted display, his crimson eye lenses glowing menacingly. 

 

He opened a private vox channel with the information officer, +Mister Holger, you are to destroy these personal log entries, and purge all evidence of their existence from the ship's cogitators. Entirely. No traces left. You will purge whatever internal cogitation capacity you possess as well. Doing so will afford you and the Iron Gods a measure of security that not even a pristine capital ship can offer. Consider this a down-payment on my – finder's fee, I believe is the Gothic colloquialism, for helping to secure this hulk. You may tell Talek Varn of my orders or not, I do not care, but fail to comply and I will be forced to harm you, favored servant of the Tyrant or not.+

 

 

Intimidate test

S62 + 0 = 62

Intimidate: 1d100 85

Fail!

Spending Fate Point to reroll… (because narrative reasons…)

1 Fate Point remaining… 

 

Intimidate: 1d100 42

42; Pass: 2 DoS + 2 (Unnatural Strength) = 4 DoS

 

Edited June 30, 2022 by Necronaut