[DH1e] The Damocles Contingency (RPG IC)

[Lord_Ikka]

Nicios

Damn. Nicios hadn't wanted to start using his powers so soon, but if whatever this was went downhill they might all get caught up in it.

"I can try something. Stitches, be ready."

Focusing his mind, Nicios concentrated on his ring again. 

Spoiler

Invocation test - 58 (48+10)

Roll - 46

Test passed, Degree of Success  1

He cast his mind towards the man crouched by Stitches.

Spoiler

Manifest pyschic power - Spasm

Threshold - 7

Roll - 2+9, +4 WPB with +4 bonus from Invocation = 19

Overbleed x 2 (5 each over threshold)- second target affected (man behind pillar), both targets  worsen difficulty of WP test

Results - both targets need to take a Willpower test, failure means that they twitch uncontrollably and fall down (if they are holding a weapon it fires). In addition, a Psychic Phenomena has occured with the roll of a 9. (Do you want to roll it or me Mazer?)

The power of the Warp fills Nicios and he wrenches it into the crouching target's nerves. Quickly, his mind flits to the watcher behind the pillar and does the same. Gasping as thepower leaves him, Nicios manages to whisper to Falk, "You as well!"

Edited August 30, 2022 by Lord_Ikka

[Mazer Rackham]

Falk/Nicios/Stitches:

For a brief moment, the glow-globes above Nicios' head and every lumen device within 15 metres of him, flickers in power loss, and even the lamps on nearby ground cars twitch and dim. A murmur of concern - and nothing more, rumbles through the crowd.

The guards by the trail carriage respond as professionals would, immediately moving to secure their VIP, surrounding the handsome blond man in an instant, and whilst not pointing their guns at anyone in particular, the hedge of las-barrels underlines their preparedness to do so.

When the odd darkness passes, the two men Nicios targeted with his mental power are convulsing on the ground, the one crouched is retching up bile and falls at Stitches' feet. The patrons and passengers watch on, with some going to try and help the stricken men.

As the power recedes to the place from whence it came, Nicios can feel the third mind become confused, scared he no longer has support, and in the resulting confusion, the jarraberries fondler departs into the hustle and bustle, the emotional trail quickly vanishing in the tumult of minds hurling wordless, panicked questions. The Arbites on duty approach the downed men, and begin to organise.

It's time to leave.

[Lysimachus]

Reynard:

"That is most helpful, Revered Father. Block 30, Trade Sector, Stratum 3. Via the lifts. We will go there immediately after performing our devotions. The… other… matter I mentioned can wait until after we have secured our lodgings."

With a bow, Reynard backed away from the priest and moved to kneel beside Scourge, trying to imitate the Knight's reverent pose. Of course, he had no intention of going anywhere near the Hall of Residence Hyronimus had suggested. You never set up shop where someone might later be told to expect to find you. Plus, he had just said they would go to the Sanctum later, so…

With his head still bowed and hands clasped fervently in front of his face, he privately voxed his comrades with a suggestion.

+++I think it is time to head for the Sanctum, gentlemen? With your agreement, we can start with those lifts the good Confessor recommended, but then just keep moving down-hive? Our movements from the spaceport up to the Templum and then directly back down again should be enough to wrongfoot and reveal anyone trying to tail us?+++

[A.T.]

Falk:

Making the sign of the aquila Falk stepped away, unsure if their lot had improved. But in the short term at least they would have the freedom to move.

Tertius had already fallen, even if Primus were given the full time allocated he doubted that Secundus would be given the same consideration and any leads there would be lost if they were delayed.

[Lysimachus]

Reynard:

 

Spoiler

D3 Roll: 2, journey time reduced to approx 5.25 hours.

 

It took far longer than Reynard would have liked for them to descend from the heights of the Spire into the Hive. Of course, considering the millennia-old construction of Primus, he hadn't expected for there to be a easy, direct line running all the way down to their goal. But having to locate and use eight different lift systems, each operating within its own shaft and on its own timetable, seemed… excessive.

He suspected that they spent almost as much time hurrying horizontally between the termini of connecting lift shafts as they did travelling vertically in the cars themselves. Not to mention the queues that slowed them as they passed through bottlenecks between the territory of one House and another. At some of these, armed guards were posted and, though they did nothing to stop any travellers, they certainly watched.

Of course, the only good thing about all these detours and waits was that it made Reynard fairly confident that they were not currently being followed.

That still left nearly three hours actually riding within the plasteel and armaglas carriages. Most seemed in reasonable condition, the ride smooth and steady. 'Reliable', as Hyronimus had put it. The benches within were minimally padded, but it was still an opportunity to rest, to think, even to close his eyes for a brief time, so Reynard made the most of it. One elevator near the lower end of the journey squealed horribly and bounced and juddered around, but the few local passengers seemed unconcerned, so he made himself ignore it. He didn't sleep on that one, though.

As the eighth and final car began to slow as it approached the level they required, a voice spoke from a once-ornate looking vox speaker. It crackled and hissed, rendering the lift operator's voice almost unintelligible.

"...tratum 16, Block 77, Leve… …lpha-2. Primary acce… to Sanctum Ecclesiast… …rom this stop. Please aligh… …ere for …nctum Ecclesiastus."

[Beren]

Stitches sees the man drop to the the floor, and an instant of disgust flits across his face. Then he remembers he's supposed to be playing a down- hive sawbones.

"Might be able to search the one downed near me. Maybe even more. Abort or go?"

[A.T.]

Falk:

There were others already moving towards the stricken figure, perhaps camoflague enough to pick the mans pockets if someone else didn't get there first, "no risks, be sure to be gone before the arbites reach you".

The third figure had vanished into the crowd, too risky to follow. It was indeed time to leave.

[Lord_Ikka]

Nicios

"Agreed, we must leave soon." Nicios moved to their waiting groundcar. "I will hold the transport until you arrive."

Edited August 31, 2022 by Lord_Ikka

[Mazer Rackham]

Reynard/Tarrant/Scourge:

As the lift car stops with a grating, as opposed to customary bounce from the wire suspension, it opens into a foyer, which is less than poorly lit.

Lumen bulbs are fizzing or popping, with disorientating and annoying infrequency. The walls, in places bare plasteel, others, scratched and tagged with garish paint and gang-sign. The few denizens of the hive who travelled with you do  not linger. They hurry away quickly, in a group, and you suspect they don't even know each other, they made no eye contact, nor did they speak.

The random buzz of power into the remaining bulkhead glow globes, armoured with thick bars is a low hum, but enough to lift hairs on your neck. Dingy, drab, dilapidated.

The glint of light on thin steel reveals the needles of discarded stimm-injectors, and plastek hypo-halers gather in the corners. The smell is different, warm bordering on humid. A breeding ground for disease, of the mind and soul.

 Perhaps it is clear why no upper hiver would be seen here.

The Sanctum Ecclesiastus is marked on the wall, a symbol painted with laminated enamel. It alone, even whilst scratched and battered, has endured this place. The sign points to the left, and the three other occupants have dashed down to the right. Two other corridors lead away, stretching into darkness before turning.

Spoiler

 

Edited August 31, 2022 by Mazer Rackham

[Trokair]

Bardas

Sight restored Bards surveyed the room he was in a bit more, on a table to one side he spotted his possessions, laid out as if they had been carefully examined.

Sitting upright now he tentatively tested his leg to see if they would hold if he tried to stand. Not yet he gauged, but not long now.

Returning his gaze to the Chief he replied.

+My masters are a law onto themselves, why would they let the Arbiters use our faithful, the lawmen can do their own work.+

Making the sing of the cog he continued.

+If my lords desired these tunnels cleaned then it would come at the hands of battle servitors I suspect, and not one such as I.+

+No, I just had the misfortune of a misstep, and instead of train found air under my feet, the rest you already know. If I can continue onwards and complete my duty in the allot time then they need not know the how or where, but if I fail, as I mentioned, their attention will no doubt be drawn.+

A runner entered, and clearly to hasty to convey his words to the Chief in private just called out.

"Chief, we've go trouble with the silt-drains."

Though on reflection maybe it was not hast but concern that the aforesaid trouble was serious, and he, the outsider, of no consequence in comparison.

As the others headed out Bardas tried to stand, and nearly fell, the aches and pains where still sever and his legs nearly buckled, only his arms still supporting him at the tables sedge prevent him from falling. ‘Follow me’ indeed, easier said than complied with.

After a moment’s pause he tried to walk again, better now, though still unsteady he made it to the table whit his possessions. First the staff, as he could use it as support.

Then he gathered up his other possessions, surprised to find everything there, and while he had not counted out the coins the weight felt right for the thrones he had carried. Even his rations from the briefing area and water bottle where here. Taking a few bites and sips to still his hunger he next turned his attention to the remaining injuries. The aches and pains would heal in time, and luckily the few cuts and scrapes he had sustained where more superficial than serious.

Never the less he sought to aid his recovery by treating what he could and administering a dose of pain and inflammation pills.

Spoiler

Medicae Test – First Aid
Int: 34
D100: 13, Pass, 2 DoS
1 Damage healed, leaving Bardas on 7 damage (character sheet update), so still heavily wounded, but nearly into lightly wounded territory.  I assume I have to wait some time before I can attempt again.

I also assume, that all possessions, except the lasgun, are now back with Bardas.

Conscious of how much time he had spent Bardas headed for the Door, he was in no condition to head out on his own yet, and they expected him to help, so he could at least try.

Beyond it he found himself in a large hall, vaulted ceilings spoke to a more sanctified past, some point millennia ago, but certainly for their lifetime, and many before that, it had been an engine room, rows of water pumps, cleaners, filters and purifiers arrayed along both walls in a complex interconnected tangle of pipes. The right side was working away, though under strain he judged, while on the left people clustered around the ailing machines.

Steadied by his staff he headed over, and after a word from the Chief he was let trough the gathered people and right up to the control panel. It served two of the pumps that normally worked in tandem, and both where no still.

While he was unfamiliar with inner workings of such machines they were sufficiently complex to have a cogitator core to regulate the internal mechanics, and such often held user pray manuals for those that where initiated into the Cult Mechanicus.

Trying to interface via his Electoo Bardas god no response, there was no powerflow to or from the cogitator, even though the lit up control panel showed that the machine itself was drawing power without problem.  

Taking one of the spare lasgun power packs, for without his weapons they were just fancy batteries, Bardars drew out power reserves from it and channelled through his gift and into the cogitator core. Drowsily it awoke, and indeed there was a prayer manual to get it back into action.

Enacting the rites he found within the pumps where soon working again, the regular rhythm as the water passed through a relive to the bystanders.

Sitting down to rest, for the act had tired him, Bardas waited for the chief to approach.

+The machine spirit heart was deprived of power, I suspect a corroded cable somewhere in there is at fault. I have fed it and its backup battery for now, but that will only hold for a few hours before it goes dormant again. Find the cable and replace it and all should be as it was.+

[Mazer Rackham]

Bardas:

The Chief runs a calloused hand through his short hair, ignorant of the oil and grease on it. He turns to you, his face still stern, but whatever suspicion lingered there is replaced with respect. The tension in the gathered men slackens, and they breathe deeply, looking terribly tired. The nervous energy and menace in them is gone.

"You wouldn't know this," he begins, inviting you to rest on a technicians' bench, "but you just saved the lives of a dozen men."

He sits beside you, eyeing your pockets and pouches. "Nothing was touched, Cog-friend. We believe a man keeps what he's earned."

Grog lumbers up, his trousers sodden to the knees with reeking dank water. On a standard human, the damp would be near-waist height. "Skinny's down the 'ole now Chief. Lookin' good."

"We mine the old works, had a crew down the shaft. We have to pick up the pieces of the old world and sell it to the new." He reaches into his left leg pocket and pulls out a duracloth pouch. He opens it to show you. "Sleeker teeth. Hard as adamantium and our currency". He hands the pouch to you.

Standing, the Chief summons another of his men, and leans in to speak quietly to him. The younger man scampers off in a rush, and the Chief turns back to you, beckoning, and once more you stagger to your feet and follow, hobbling along on your stick as the fits and starts of flesh and metal, bent out of true and bruised by your fall propel you forth. You descend a few metres by your reckoning, until you reach a rudimentary platform. A long, narrow tunnel stretches away into vanishing darkness, and as you follow the wall back, you can see rails. Waiting at the small, roughly hewn platform, is a small rail-cart, which looks to be powered by batteries similar to those in your possession.

"Old comms pipeline. Our lads have refitted it to serve our needs. This will take you into Primus."

Running feet announce the youth before he skips down the short flight of steps you have just descended, bursting onto the platform behind you, a long bundle in his hands. Chief grins as he takes it, and the smell of cosmoline and unguents assail you. Familiar lubricant among the Cog-worshippers who deal with the mechanism, transport and storage of Mechanicum weapons.

"Here," Chief says, reverence and pleasure mixed in his pronouncement. "Don't unwrap it yet."

He helps you down onto the small cart, and points at the rudimentary controls. "When you reach the hive, send it back - it's our only transport."

He sends the youth away, and goes to leave, patting a stencil on the wall. It is a design you are now quite familiar with. A pickaxe, the handle passing through a skull.

"We're the Rockheads, simple men who keep our word. You meet any of our lads, give them my name, and the passphrase."

Then he's gone, leaving you in the small railhead, amongst machinery and darkness.

You receive the following:

1. Sleeker Teeth (Worth 20 Thrones, but can be made into bullets which will give +1 Pen you'll have to roll 1D10 for how many bullets you'll get of them);
2. A Galvanic Repeater (strapped into a rifle scabbard that may look familiar to you ). It was a galvanic rifle which has been almost irreparably damaged, but skilled hands have shortened and converted it to lever-action to make it viable. It is a custom weapon of Good Quality (despite how battered it looks the internals are well put together), which uses normal bullets, and therefore may use special ammunition as per DH:Core. Any bonuses have been included in the profile.
3. The weapon has an inscription finely engraved into the top of the barrel: "Saxa cadunt, omnes moriuntur."

Profile for the Galvanic Repeater:

• Class: Basic
• Range: 90m
• RoF: S/-/-
• Dam: 1D10+5
• Pen: 3
• Clip: 7 (Tubular magazine below the barrel, the drum magazine has been removed, or was destroyer prior).
• Reload: Full
• Special: Reliable
• Wgt: 4 Kg
• Cost: 100 Thrones
• Avail: Unique

You can move out as you wish. As this is a battery powered vehicle, your charge packs will power it. The trip will take a minimum of 1D5+3 hours. You will count as rested and fed when you arrive. You will end up in a small supply depot in the lowest stratum of House Tirant, close to the rail terminus. You may leave at your leisure.

Edited August 31, 2022 by Mazer Rackham

[Lysimachus]

Reynard:

"Very welcoming…" Reynard quipped uneasily. He didn't like how dilapidated the whole area around the Sanctum had become. The damage was from neglect, years older than anything caused by the explosion Verdict had mentioned. At least partially abandoned, even if some parts of the Medicae facility were still open and operating. Probably why the Inquisition had chosen it in the first place - quiet was obviously better for their purposes. But it also meant almost anyone… any thing… could have taken up residence in the shadowy, uninhabited spaces surrounding their hidden laboratory. Given how nervy the locals had seemed, he felt sure there was danger here. Not to mention the civs had immediately hurried away to the right… as if they knew the greatest danger was to the left?

Doing his best to stay cool and calm, Reynard reached beneath his coat, loosening his laspistol and sawn-off in their holsters, ready for a quick draw. He grimaced at Tarrant and Scourge, and nodded at the Sanctum sign.

"I guess we go that way?"

 

[Beren]

Stitches edges closer to the fallen man.

"Move aside! Move aside! I'm a medicae!"

Stitches edges closer to the man, pulls out a small stab-light to peer at his eyes, and jams an empty syringe to collect a blood sample while his free hand rifles through the man's clothing and possessions. He pauses, and looks up at the crowd.

"Do any of you know this man? Family? Friends perhaps? Anybody who can provide me with payment for my services?"

He waits a moment, then speaks shrilly.

"I do have other patients you know! The medicine I could use to save him could save another, one that will provide sufficient restitution to replenish what I use on them!"

[Mazer Rackham]

Stitches:

Light fingers do fast work - in this instance the cover of your medical attentions allows you to pocket a few things.

• A handful of Thrones (1D5),
• Blood Sample
• 1 x invitation (it's for a shooting competition)

At your urgings, the men of law hurry closer. One of them, a man not unlike Falk around the edges of his bearing, puts a warding palm out, his other fist grasping his shock baton, resting it on his right shoulder. "Alright citizen, that's enough. Medicae or not, step back."

Another gruff voice that wouldn't shame one of your old drill sergeants rumbles out across the masses, coming from almost everywhere at once. "Stop that man!"

Boots hammer across the rockrete surface, and one of the well-attired guards from the private train carriage towers over you, his shadow blotting out the lumen-strips far above, the same ones which have just flickered back into life. "Sir Fabian Canthus requires the attendance of an apothecary."

The two men stare at each other.

"This man may be a material witness," the lawman growls, his baton still in crowd control position.

"I don't give a fug if he's your maternal grandmother!" the uniformed meatslab bellows in return, hands balling into reddening boulders. "Fabian Canthus told me to fetch him."

The Judge's visor regards you. In the mirror-finish, you can see yourself looking back.

"I was prepared to let you go, after giving a statement," the lawman says, "You can talk to him, or me."

"If it's coin you want," the big man barks, "Sir Fabian will reward you handsomely for escorting him up-hive."

[Trokair]

Bardas

Bardas took the proffered gift with thanks, uttering a short blessing in the Omnissiah’s name for the Chief and his people for their kindness, the gift and the help with the onwards journey.

The other man was almost at the threshold on his return to pumping hall when Bardas called out.

+Wait+

He had just connected to an Adeptus Mecnaicum data stream, the news of Hive Tertius and all its implication was unwelcome news, but news he better share.

+Hive Tertius is dead, this day bodes ill for Damocles. If you and thine have reasons to journey away from the Hives then I suggest you do so for a while.+

 

As the cart departed into the tunnel Bardas settled down as best he could, wearied still from recent events. Dosing for a while the cart rattled along the track, after several hours Bardas stirred again, a little more recovered, based on the markers and readout of the controls he had travelled perhaps a little over two thirds of the way.

With some time yet to pass he unwrapped the weapon with care, examined it extensively and once satisfied that it was a worthy weapon that he could trust he wrapped it again. Next he examined the Sleeker Teeth, they might act as currency amongst the Rockheads, but he doubted he would have much use for them as such, but as a token they might come in handy, selecting a few he stowed them in one of his secure pockets. Noting their sharpness and hardness Bardas tinkered with the remainder and the ammunition that had come with Saxa, it took a few attempts, but within the hour he had enhanced several of the bullets.

 

 

Spoiler

Journey Time (d5 +3)
Roll: 5 + 3 = 8 hours

Bullets enhanced  (d10)
Roll: 8 Bullets

 

Edited August 31, 2022 by Trokair

[Mazer Rackham]

Reynard/Scourge/Tarrant:

Before anyone can respond to Reynard's suggestion, there is a piercing scream that reverberates down the passageways, and into the lift foyer. The sound is human in nature, but discordant, distorted by the labyrinthine tunnels it cries out in anguish from.

You will require a Difficult (-10) Perception (Hearing) Test to discern the origin.

[Lysimachus]

Reynard:

Awareness 33 (Per 28, Awareness+10) - 10(Difficult) = 23, Roll: 42, Fail with 1DoF

Reynard spun around at the scream, laspistol suddenly in hand. He looked and listened down each of the corridors, but the plasteel of the walls echoed the sound around until it was almost impossible to discern its origin. He looked questioningly at his companions.

"Did either of you pick up where that came from?"

Preferably not the left…

 

Spoiler

OOC Edit: just thought, if Tarrant and Scourge gave Assists rather than rolling, that would be +20, enough to make it a Success (just!) Maybe we can work out where it came from between us?

 

Edited September 1, 2022 by Lysimachus

[Beren]

d5 = 3 thrones

Oh feth. Should've just backed off. Still, maybe an opportunity. Best chance now was just to roll with it.

Stitches bows his head low.

"It is... ah, ever my pleasure and my honour to fulfill my duties, that is, the duties of every Imperial citizen, in the assistance of His hands in the noble pursuit of justice in His eyes, but.. ah..."

He lets a slight tremor creep into his voice.

"...my calling is indeed as an... apothecary..."

Not to mention he was being offered thrones for the pleasure. Which of course, the lawman would be well aware of.

"...and that is where I may best do good... in His eyes, that is. I'm sure that I cannot tell you more about... whatever just happened than anybody else here, I simply saw a man in need and moved to render assistance."

 

[Mazer Rackham]

Reynard et al: Yes, working it out between you would be a good narrative opportunity. You have at least heard it, if not where it came from, are in Narrative Time may act appropriately for the situation. (so spreading out, active listening counting as assistance, but this will rely on the roleplay and will not be an automatic grant).

Stitches:

The Judge's lips slant as his jaw works, a suggestion of meeting his expectations. Another Arbitrator joins him, and with the back-up, he leaves the well-trimmed brute steaming to kneel and peer into the bag. He whistles in a long, low tremble.

He pries open the bag to reveal a large firearm, a Navy style hand cannon. His partner immediately grabs the fallen man and flops him over, pulling his helpless arms around for restraints.

"Alright Citizen, you can go," he says. You hear the vox click on. "Control, cancel that 10-107, suspect in custody, Code 95, possible 245."

Naturally dismissed by the Judge, the beefstick in green grins nastily. "This way please, learned medicae."

He marches across the platform and market square, where Ser Fabian Canthus awaits, his handsome face pale, but his gaze steady.

[Lord_Ikka]

Nicios

"So much for that." Nicios cursed as the noble guard lead Stitches away. Down two members and we haven't even reached the sanctum!

"Falk, the transport is waiting. Stitches, we will be heading to the sanctum- try to ditch the noble when you're able."

He clambered into the groundcar, gruffly informing the driver the destination but to wait for his colleague to get in before departing.

I wanted something different, but this is ridiculous. 

[Machine God]

Kerr Restal

A shrieking scream echoed down the passageways into the foyer where they were standing.

 

Awareness 31 (Per 31 + Awareness) - 10(Difficult) = 21, Roll: 21, Pass

'Tarrant' brought his shotgun up into a ready position and pointed it in the direction the scream had come from.

"Down there!"

Edited September 1, 2022 by Machine God
typo

[Mazer Rackham]

Kerr Restal (Reynard/Scourge):

Your sharp ears are not fooled, a Mark is a Mark after all, yet as you shout and prepare your weapon, you can feel...someone..? Something take notice.

Gentlemen.

Initiatives.

[Machine God]

Kerr Restal

He cursed himself for being sloppy and not using the vox, as he flicked the selector to semi-auto.

 

 

AGL 30. Initiative: 3 + d10: 3 + 9 = 12

Edited September 1, 2022 by Machine God
Added text

[Lysimachus]

Reynard:

Spoiler

Initiative: Ag4 +1 +7(d10) = 12.
(Use Quickdraw to ready both weapons as a Free Action)

 

Even as Tarrant pointed towards the source of the scream, Reynard was filling his other hand with the grip of a gun. As he drew the second weapon, he was struck as always - pleased, even - by the dichotomy of his armaments.

The laspistol was his favourite, of course. A gentleman's weapon. Elegant, precise, yet reliable and easy to use. The sawn-off was its opposite in many ways - a heavy, ugly, crude thug… but its obvious aura of violence made it a useful tool of intimidation, in addition to being a deadly room clearer.

Now as ready as he could be, Reynard moved to stand between the two fighters, trying to make sure that any threat would be intercepted before it reached him.

 

[Mazer Rackham]

++ NARRATIVE TIME ENDS ++

++ STRUCTURED TIME BEGINS ++

Reynard/Scourge/Kerr Restal:

The sound of something mechanical reaches your ears, a shift of servos. Muted footsteps. Tamp, tamp, tamp.

A hulking shape slowly leans around the corner, exposing it's left side. Crimson light bleeds from a multi-faceted optical array which pans right to left, lingering on each of you. The dingy light paints it as a figure in long scarlet robes, stained with oil and grime. The reek of offal mingles with a waft of the sweet-stink of fresh blood. Indeed, the left hand, a mechanical talon flashes silver and red in the light. It grips the wall, and bodily fluids drip thickly from fingers which are razor-sharp blades.

There is an eerie, almost human subtlety to the unnerving manner in which it behaves, which is quite at odds with what it purports to be.

COMBAT MAP:

Spoiler

Initiative Order:

Spoiler

Reynard AG4 = 12 (15/15) [ ]

Kerr Restal AG3 = 12 (15/15) [ ]

Drone AG4 = 10 (??/??) [ ] 

Scourge AG3 = 8 (17/17) [ ]

GM NOTE: Players will require a Challenging (+0) Willpower (Fear) Test at the beginning of their Turn. There is no Surprise Round.

Initiate Player Actions...

Edited September 2, 2022 by Mazer Rackham