Mazer Rackham Posted July 29, 2022 Share Posted July 29, 2022 (edited) The RPG Nook presents... ++ A DARK HERESY RPG ++ ++ THE DAMOCLES CONTINGENCY ++ "It is in the worst of times, that the true qualities of men shine through. Their light is the Emperor's Will, their strength the Emperor's Hand. Yet what kind of men can suffer in such darkness, what qualities will work in the shade, where the dagger in the dark is worth a thousand swords at dawn?" -Inquisitor Garrad Locke +++++++ PROLOGUE +++++++ The World of Damocles, Hive Primus Night Cycle, 3rd Segment, 787.999.M41: He heard it first, and looked up from his microbial containment field. Focus lenses moved from his eyes in a mechanical whirr, as he felt the dark presence pressing in under the door. Slowly, ever so slowly, he reached for the Carnifex-bore stub automatic, loaded with the expensive shells, his palms sweaty. He noticed his skin was pale, the hairs standing on end. He gripped the pistol butt hard, the cold metal felt good, reassuring. Auto-response. Respiratory and circulatory increase, fight or flight. The words came but his body was lumpen, heavy. It would not obey him fast enough! Then the door flung open, and the shadow hung there, robed, cloaked in darkness and the chill air of the corridor outside fomenting into mist as it hit his heat-conditioning throughout his laboratory. The germs liked the warmth, needed the heat to grow. He drew the pistol into both hands, adrenaline sting forcing him to ram the mammoth block of hardware at the figure. "Throne!" He felt his teeth chatter, not at the cold, but the fear in his trembling voice. "Stay back!" He fired, once, twice. The shells filled the lab with thunder, noise pummelling both him and the intended victim. It rushed on , gripping him with an iron, invisible fist, and he heard the bones crack, the weapon firing again as it caught against his now disfigured digits, but the round only served to go wide, spanking off a stasis cabinet, causing to crash onto the floor and vials of chemicals spilled out, singing the air with acrid tang. The figure gripped him, enveloped him and he screamed, loud and long, not understanding it was his last breath. An hour later, when his body was still and tight with rigor-mortis, his automatic alarm sent the signal he'd hoped to cancel, and his experiments autoclaved in melta heat. The ones that weren't missing. +++++++ Ordo Hereticus Intelligence Centre 280, Eastern Fringe, Night Watch, 787.999.M41: + Astropathic Terminus, Sigma6.455/Skapula/303-Enceladus(CARMINE) + Message Reads... + Alert Signal Aleph Primus/Notify/Sect-Com//OrdoSepultura/-RESHUNT//OP-ORD... + Notify//Verdict//. The crimson lights from his networked dataslate woke him up. Always a light sleeper, he sighed and rubbed his face as the commbead on the nightstand rattled and buzzed against the plastek of his holoterminal encoder. His real name was somewhere in the back of his mind, and as he got up and plugged back into the cogitator network, he picked up the message. Aleph Primus. He was on his feet in moments, and into his customary garb of mixed carapace, heavy robes and xenomesh. He settled the visor into place, then his hood and belted on his equipment, weapons. His clothes and pouches were worn, the dust of a hard life beaten into them. His gauntleted finger was on his commbead as he strode towards the operations room, the device fast in his left ear. +This is Verdict. Contact Voyager and have him ready in shuttle bay three. Then get me Viceroy. In that order.+ He killed the link before the automated response from the servitor-slave. He hated the metallic sound of it. They were already one-hundred and forty-four hours behind. Unforgiveable. +++++++ Chaeron, Second Moon of Damocles, Low Orbit, 797.999.M41 Verdict's visor displayed the incoming comms loop, the occulus-portrait was obscured of course, but he knew who it was as soo as he heard her sharp intake of breath. +Situation?+ +I'm here with Vendetta, we're preparing to drop.+ +Negative. The problem has...changed.+ She sounded exasperated. +Clarify.+ +A demand has been made - an outrageous one. You can't go in. You'll need to recruit someone...invisible. Send out your people, get dregs, killers, rogues, pay them or threaten them, but you're the handler.+ +What have I done to deserve that?+ +Other than I trust you?+ He sighed. Working for her was the best and worst thing he'd ever agreed to. He closed the link, knowing exactly who to call. He'd make the other arrangements as well. It was time to do what the Inquisition did best. +++++++ + ACT I + ROGUES IN THE HOUSE Chapter One: A Murder of Acolytes Chapter Two: The Crucible Chapter Three: Fiend or Foe Chapter Four: What A Deadly Web We Weave Chapter Five: Angels In Dirty Places + ACT II + THE CHAOS ENGINE Chapter One: What Evils Below Edited March 21 by Mazer Rackham Updates Machine God, Trokair, Lysimachus and 1 other 2 2 Back to top Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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