[DH1e] The Damocles Contingency (RPG IC)

[Mazer Rackham]

LeX:

 

Remembering Reynard's threats of the Mechanicum penalty for whatever crimes have been committed, the father openly bursts into tears.

[Lysimachus]

Reynard:

 

"He didn't mean that as literally as you think."

 

Feeling slightly guilty, Reynard stepped forward and explained to Lecroix Senior about the gambit he had been attempting and tried to calm the old man down. Finally he shrugged.

 

"Sorry. Not my best plan, but I was improvising. We just need information."

 

He looked curiously at Sebastian.

 

[A.T.]

Falk:

 

+Hey, nice boots, chief.+

 

"Stand to attention", Falk roars back at the man as he turns in a mix of true indignation and awareness that ignoring such slight against the codes of conduct would be damning against his own legitimacy.

 

Such formality had become a rare thing for him as his training and professional demeanor often drew silence rather than the answers he sought in his investigations. But now standing at full height unflinching and still, he took on the unmistakable aura of the Arbites.

 

Whatever eyes were on Restal were on him no longer.

 

Intimidate 12 - pass - staring down the guard who stepped out of line

Dice are liking Falk at the moment... paying penance for their performance in my last bloodbowl game :p

[Mazer Rackham]

Lex:

 

The old man sniffs up drops of dirty mucus and, producing a handkerchief, blunderbusses the result into it.

 

"It's alright, da. We're just going into the cellar. These men understand."

 

"Alright son, I trust you. Just, be careful."

 

Seb takes you down a ladder into the cellar. Behind a row of crates stacked to the ceiling, you can sense the heat and hear the grind of machinery. He leads along the wall, turns a corner at the end, hidden by shadow. When you follow, you see a line of cogitators, networked together by ramshackle cabling. The light is provided by a meagre bulb, and the glare of a blue laser cutting through plastek slices in a sizzle. All the stuff is older, salvaged, but it's wired together with competence.

 

There are older cogitators broken open and stripped for parts in a corner, with beaten up and worn-handled tools.

 

Seb walks up to the printer, picks up a pale crystal sliver, the electrical circuitry and electoo patterns on it rather familiar.

 

"Dreyfuss wanted one of these. I don't get the diagrams, that's a guy called Tracer. Safecracker by...profession."

 

His other hand lifts one of a pile of small resinplas figures, slightly skewed off human proportion. "Kids love these. Shame. Thought they would be a good sideline until the Regulators banned 'em."

 

The Checkpoint:

 

The junior Judge looks quickly at his superior, then slams to attention. It's a bit sloppy, but he gets his feet together, shoulders square and straight. +Sir! The officer begs your pardon!+

 

The commander is there immediately. +Apologies sir, I will discipline this man. Please go about your mission, wouldn't want any reports going in anywhere official, would we?+ It's a play at your own game, but it's at least on the same page.

 

The other Arbites do their best not to look at you, or your party as you sail through.

Edited November 11, 2022 by Mazer Rackham

[Lysimachus]

Reynard:

 

Lecroix's set up was impressive, considering his limited resources. Assuming any of them survived the next few days, Reynard would be interested to see what he could do with a little more backing. Something to bear in mind, anyway.

 

As Seb held up the sliver, Reynard suddenly remembered why it was familiar. There had been an almost identical one in Dreyfuss' safe. A hacker's electronic key. He frowned.

 

"So Dreyfuss needed to break in somewhere? You must have some idea of where it was meant for? Did you keep copies of the diagrams?"

 

[Mazer Rackham]

LeX:

 

Seb grins. "Copies? You think I'm a blockhead?"

 

He throws up a hand. "Don't answer that."

 

He wanders to a small vent grate in the wall, pulls it off with his fingertips, and rummages inside. He draws out a package, opens it to show an extremely intricate holoslice. "Took three days to burn it in. Paid me a pouch the size of my head. I don't know what lock it opens, or where the lock is. Each is different. That's what Tracer says, and what he does."

 

A muffled thud comes from above, in the direction of the ladder, and Seb stiffens, a felid pricking its ears. "Something's wrong. Da's covered the hatch."

[Lysimachus]

Reynard:

 

Reynard sighed. Still no concrete answer, another lead to chase. He was about to ask how they could find 'Tracer', then the thud sounded and Seb explained it. They all froze, listening.

 

"Not a blockhead at all," he whispered in reply. "In fact, I'm hoping amongst all this kit you've got something that can bring up a picter view of upstairs? ...and I assume there is another way out of here if necessary?"

 

[Mazer Rackham]

LeX:

 

Seb shoots Reynard a sideways look. "Yeah, sure, because everyone trading in knock-off stuff has a security picter to deter thieves."

 

He kills the power to the rig and quietly pulls back a slide which lets in light from above. Somewhere in the ceiling of the shoppe is a mirror, which reflects onto a transparent prism block on Seb's workbench. A fixed periscope, but it gives a good view of the shop.

 

"We're all blockheads," he whispers, "the ladder is the only way up."

 

Sound comes down the small vent where Seb stashed the holoslice, with a little tinny ring, making everything word mechanical at the edges.

 

LeX - upstairs:

 

Old Man Lecriox finishes moving a box of tools over a rough square of carpet in the back of the shop. It is evident this was the noise you heard. Four men stand browsing through the wares. Their gear is familiar, their carapace helmets fitted with respirators and green visor lenses. An absolute block of a man comes in, his swagger confident, almost playful.

 

+A nice place. Reminds me of my grandfather's breaker's yard.+

 

"Always nice to meet people in the business," Lecroix senior drawls. He takes out an oily rag, begins to pull at his fingers and swab his palms. "We're about to close I'm afraid."

 

+Really?+ the large man supposes. He draws a bolt pistol and places it on the counter, his men securing the exits. One of them goes behind the older man to cut him off. +Maybe you wouldn't mind unpaid overtime.+

 

"Um, how can I help you?" Lecriox's father drops the rag, neither obsequious, nor defiant, just a man stuck. He shows no open fear of the weapon.

 

+Where's your son?+

Edited November 11, 2022 by Mazer Rackham

[Lysimachus]

Reynard:

 

No way out…?  

 

"Those are the bastards that tore up the Sanctum and the Market," he hissed.

 

Reynard looked around, silently searching for anything they could use. At least if the floor was solid, it would make the cellar more defensible in the event of an assault. Not much fun trying to charge one at a time down a ladder either. He and Bardas could take one or two of them out, for sure. Then they'd use gas. Or grenades, if they didn't care about talking.

 

Better if it didn't come to a fight.

 

"You reckon your da can get rid of them?"

 

Edited November 11, 2022 by Lysimachus

[Mazer Rackham]

Cellar:

 

Seb shrugs. "Maybe, depends on how many buckets he can dodge."

 

You can see a few tools, some equipment, a length of rope. Broken cogitators, dismantled servo-skulls, nothing of any whopping fortitude.

 

Kelvin's Gallery:

 

Falk, Nicios and Restal travel without further incident, following the directions on cartographs, the signs and helpful patrons who are now penniless after gambling and drinking. As you step through the same arch as Reynard did a short time ago, you sense that the picture is quite unchanging. A blond, scarred man at the bar, a well-dressed townsman, and lounging drinkers and gamblers.

[Lysimachus]

Reynard:

 

"I don't know who they're working for. Some rich Uphiver, is my current guess. They're said they're looking for Dreyfuss. I'm not sure if they even know he's dead."

 

Reynard shook his head. Maybe he should try talking to them? Risky. Not knowing what they wanted put him in a bad place to negotiate. But it might be his best option if the old man couldn't fob them off. Unless a miracle happened and a squad of PDF or Arbites were passing by.

 

Hold on...

 

Reynard quietly activated his microbead, just in case.

 

+++Reynard to Restal? Falk? Nicios?+++

 

Edited November 11, 2022 by Lysimachus

[Mazer Rackham]

LeX:

 

"Who?" Old Man Lecroix asks.

 

Instead of replying, the huge man moves fast. In a blur, he thumps the older shopkeeper in the stomach, grasping him by the scruff of the neck as power goes out of his legs. He hauls the unfortunate individual onto the bench-counter to recuperate. The hulking killer leans over Lecroix. +Don't play games with me. Do you understand?+

 

"Yes," gasps the older man.

 

+Your son?+

 

"An Arbites Agent took him away. There was another man, a Techpriest. They took him for questioning."

 

The meatblock straightens, tosses a holocube on the bench. Reynard springs to life, his dashing, handsome face captured in all its rogue-ish glory. The Slitted, scarred sallet of Scourge follows, then the wonky capture of Restal. Stitches' wily face decorates the rugged shoppe. Poor Old Lecroix can't help it. The recognition on his face is fleeting, but he's gasping, and the bigger man, scooping up the bolt pistol, grinds the barrel into his left hand.

 

+How long ago?+

 

"Stuff it up your arse!"

 

Thunder. The bolt shell explodes, detonating at close range blasts the hand and forearm off in a shower of crimson gore, the table, worn and rugged, is smashed in twain, long slivers of wood, splinters and sawdust spilling everywhere gently.  Bone fragments and ragged red cartilage slam into the metal roof. Old Man Lecroix goes sideways, crawling and crying in shock. He gasps terribly, choking on the terrible miasma.

 

+How long ago?+ the big man's voice is steady, in total control of his emotions.

 

Cellar:

 

Seb jams his own hand into his mouth, bites down, but his face is agony. Torn between saving his father and saving himself.

[Lysimachus]

Reynard:

 

As the bolt shell exploded with a muffled thump, Reynard reflexively drew his las. He didn't fire though. Instead he spoke softly, as calmly and rationally as he could, to Seb.

 

"Look kid, I'm sorry it's gone down like this. Not what I wanted. From what we've seen, these bastards seem to enjoy killing and they don't leave witnesses behind. But if your da is anything like my ma was, he'll be happy to die before he gives you up."

 

As he spoke, still utterly cool, he sighted his laspistol towards the reflected image.

 

"If you want, I'll try to take the shot. I don't hold out much hope of it saving him… and it will probably just get us found and killed too, which I reckon is the last thing your da wants. But sometimes you've got to do what you've got to do."

 

 

Spoiler

OOC: Even if it doesn't work to convince Seb, I'm thinking it might distract him enough to make it easier for Bardas to knock him out?

 

Edited November 12, 2022 by Lysimachus

[Mazer Rackham]

Cellar:

 

Blood runs down Seb's hand from how hard he's chewing it. He pulls back, leaving strings of ruddy spittle. "What if they just want to talk to me? Just like you did? If they get what they want?"

 

He's sensible enough to keep his voice to a whisper, but there's madness in his eyes.

 

"I'm sorry about your ma, but Da is right there! I have to - !"

 

He turns away from you both, shoulders heaving, catching one of the servo-skulls with his sleeve. It totters on the edge.

 

LeX:

 

"An hour!" Lecroix shouts, but it's hoarse. "An hour ago," this time a sighed plea.

 

One of the other men pipes up. +Sounds right, boss. Three precincts within that travel.+

 

+Think they're cops, do you?+ The brute chuckles. +No, they're working for someone. Contact the informant. Get him to shout us if they turn up at that dive of his.+ He squats on haunches, head canted to one side. He's a great, black bear over the broken prey. +You're a brave man, I respect that. This is almost over. Which way did they go?+

 

"How the hell would I know?"

 

+You said they took Sebastian. He's your son, you'd watch them leave. Which way?+ The bolt pistol crushes up against Lecroix's right shoulder.

 

Kelvin's Gallery:

 

"Morning gentlemen," the blond bartender says, a note of false cheer. "What can I get you?"

[Machine God]

Kerr Restal:

"Soylens and Kaff" answered Kerr Restal. 

 

"How did the Competition go?" 

[Lysimachus]

Reynard:

 

Spoiler

Ag Test to catch the servo-skull? Ag45, Roll: 49, Fail!

 

Reynard jumped sideways, reaching to stop the broken machine from falling. His fingers grazed it, but not enough to stop it from toppling over the edge. The skull bounced down against the side of the worktop, then back against the side of his coat and finally down onto the deck. Reynard froze again at the noise. Hopefully he had done enough to muffle it a little, at least?

 

His lunge had moved him right up to Seb and Reynard now found himself looking down into the young man's face. He carried on talking; low, calm, logical.

 

"Trust me, they aren't as nice as I am. If they get what they want, they don't need any of us alive any more. Give your da a minute more, they might still buy it."

 

He frowned.

 

"Anyway, I don't think they'll kill him until after they've got hold of you! They're pragmatists, right? Throwing away an asset that still has some value? Impractical."

 

[Trokair]

Reaching forward to hold the speaker next to Sebs head Bardas whispers.

 

+ The Fox-kin is right, whoever they work for dose not care for collateral damage. Fox-kin had to arrange for new parents for a little girl those men had orphaned last night, and I performed  last rights for an entire shrine enclave in their wake.+

[Mazer Rackham]

Kelvin's Gallery:

 

The barman smiles, nods. "Coming right up."

 

He takes a minute, talking as he works.

 

"Competition was eventful! Poor old Klaus there got beaten by a stranger. Fair shooting too. Robard knocked himself out with his own gun, and Captain Ishmael stunk the place out."

 

As he turns and meddles with some kind of kaff-brewing contraption behind him, and drops a sturdy, but mass-produced plastek mug in front of Restal. A covered styrofoam cup with the synthetic product is also served up. The sharp smell of caffeine mixes with the weird proto-chlorophyll nutrient paste.

 

"Two thrones."

 

LeX:

Spoiler

Perception Tests:

1. Leader: PASS + 1 DoS
2. PASS
3. FAIL
4. PASS + 3 DoS!
5. FAIL

One of the men shifts, but the leader holds his hand up in combat sign, and everyone freezes. He turns to look at his men.

 

One indicates to his left, another behind him.

 

The leader signals, and the men carefully sweep the shop with custom autoguns, the cousins to the one swinging under Reynard's armpit. Weapon mounted stablights flare into silent brilliance, as the operatives tread with a rocking pace, rolling their boots onto the outside. The soft rubber absorbs the noise as they search. Old man Lecroix fights the pain, takes a breath, but the leader jams his hand into the victim's mouth, and slowly shakes his head.

 

The message is clear: shut up, or die.

 

The lights converge on the upper opening of the ventilation grate.

 

+Where does that lead, old man?+ The leader pulls his hand free, albeit oddly gently.

 

"Sewers," Lecroix gasps. His face changes as he realises his mistake.

 

+Interesting.+ You can hear the smile. +Two-four. On my order, disinfect the dungheap with a white-phos.+

 

+Copy.+ The man lets his weapon hang by the strap, kicks the grate in with a savage boot, and readies a device from his webbing. He looks over at the leader for confirmation, and the brute lifts his hand.

 

Cellar:

 

All the cocky humour and offhand surety is gone for the lad, and he now looks like any other eighteen year old who thought he knew the world, and actually found he didn't when it truly came calling.

 

He stands there petrified, his face ashen pale.

Edited November 12, 2022 by Mazer Rackham

[Machine God]

Kerr Restal:

 

Kerr Restal described the Weasel to the barman "That the Stranger? He's a friend."

 

"Yes" replied the barman "But it's still Two Thrones!"

 

"Sure, I got it somewhere," said Kerr Restal patting his pockets. He pulled up the left of his flak-coat exposing his lasgun in its underarm holster, here he withdrew some Thrones.

 

"People have to be careful, there sure aren't half a load of Arbite patrols around here. So that's two for the meal and one for you. Hey, could you, um, direct us to a data-fixer name of Sebastian Lecroix?" Kerr Restal said conspiratorially with a wink, as he tossed the coins to the barman.

 

 

 

Edited November 12, 2022 by Machine God
Typo

[Lysimachus]

Reynard:

 

Fine, be like that. Bastard.

 

Even as the thug leader was giving his order, Reynard was re-aiming his pistol at the reflected image. As he did he spoke to Bardas and Seb.

 

"We're out of options. Quick, cover yourselves up, just in case. White-phos burns like hell, but it burns out fast."

 

He centred himself, blew out a long breath … and fired.

 

Spoiler

Half: Aim
Half: Single shot (not going for the head or anything, just trying to get a hit!)
BS42 +10(Aim) +10(Short Range) -30(Trick shot!) = 32, Roll: 06, Hit with 2DoS on (06=60) Body
Damage:
Hot shot Las round.
1d10+3 Pen4 (Tearing)
(3,10!)
Righteous Fury BS Roll: 92
FP reroll (my last one for this Day!): 30, Success!
Additional 1d10 Dam roll: 7
Total 10+3+7 = 20 Dam Pen4

 

Reynard hadn't got around to taking the single hotshot pack from his pistol. Now he was glad he'd left it in. The energy beam bounced neatly from mirror to mirror at the speed of light itself… until it punched into his target - exactly where he'd intended.

 

The chestplate of the merc readying the grenade.

[Mazer Rackham]

Kelvin's Gallery:

 

Restal:

 

The barman nods. "Arbites patrols?  Is that a fact?"

 

"Sebastian Lecroix? Popular lad." The townsman, too well dressed for this dump, but certainly not as gaudily and expensively attired as the upper hive snobs, saunters across. The barman smirks, says no more.

 

The stocky townie looks you up and down. "Sorry friend, we only have drinks or business in here. Small talk is for the ladies' parlour next door."

Edited November 12, 2022 by Mazer Rackham

[Machine God]

Kerr Restal:

 

"If this is where the competition was held, you must have a range!" Kerr says from his mug of Kaf, his eyes on the townsman.

 

 

 

Edited November 27, 2022 by Machine God

[Mazer Rackham]

Kelvin's Gallery:

 

"Wouldn't be the gallery else," the townsman replies. "Afraid the purse is won tonight, but we can wager for information. That's business too."

 

[Machine God]

Kerr Restal:

 

"Well, I didn't see any pictures as I walked in. Competition for information, that would work," answered Kerr Restal, finishing his food.

 

"What are your rules?" he asked. "Names Roj, by the way!"

[Mazer Rackham]

Kelvin's Gallery:

 

The townsman shares a knowing laugh. "Best score gets you an answer, but pick which, we won't play again."

 

He goes towards the large arch on the left of the door, presses the target switch. A rank of targets flashes into being.

 

"You first."

 

You may now take three Half-Action shots. The rules are the same as before, no aiming, this is a test of reaction. You require a suitable pistol weapon, no shotguns, boltguns etc.

The Targets are 40m away.

 

Large Target +10 Hit

Middle Target + 0 Hit

Small Target -10 Hit

 

Please post DoS/DoF so I can measure the total success.