[DH1e] The Damocles Contingency (RPG IC)

[A.T.]

Falk

 

Rising from his seat, "Thank you. We will take it from here but keep an eye on the tunnels, if he comes out and we don't make sure the word is passed on."

 

With that he moved away weighing possible angles of approach, a legitimate owner would balk at the warrants he carried but might try to slip someone out the back. "if Kraevus is so keen to get off world then perhaps we should approach him with such an offer, bring him back up to the landing port where we can better control the situation. It's a long shot that could go badly quickly, either way perhaps best that you wait out back to intercept him - either i'll bring him out peacefully or try to drive him to you."

[Mazer Rackham]

The Arcade:

 

The vendor looks up. "No problem, good hunting."

 

There is more than enough civilian traffic to cover an approach or shadow anyone moving along.

[Trokair]

Bardas

 

Bardas placed Valkyries helmet back on the stand, completing the set once more. Whether it was an innate function, or result of the damaged sustained he did not know, but it would only function as a relay to Vigilance it was worn. Standing there with the damaged helm on his head had been awkward, not least because it would have always been a pore fit, even if it had been whole.

 

Reinforcements would be welcome, especially as the others were heading out again after their meeting with the Law Lord, however Bardas could not help but feel that Vigilance hand been unnecessarily ‘vague’, or maybe ‘non committal’ even if he assumed that the cannel was not secure.  The loss of his colleagues and their progress seemed to matter little to the Inquisitor, or was he just another agent like them, answering in turn to someone else.

 

Idle speculation would not reveal the truth. For a moment he considered whether he should hurry to meet up with the others and join them in their pursuit of the newest lead. However with so much still in the dark focusing in one one lead at the cost of another could proof golden, or a costly mistake.

 

Taking out the cogitator core they had found in the vault Bardas headed for one of the lab’s workbenches. Before he could connect it to a suitable system to retrieve the data it needed some care and attention. Forensic arts was not a discipline he was familiar, and no doubt the Lawmen here where more schooled in it then he, even in respect of the hearts and brain of Mechaniucm blessed machines. He did however knew enough about  care and maintenance for weather and environmental harm, rust and fire amongst them.

 

Spoiler

Tech-Use test to clean, tidy and otherwise try to bring the cogitator core into a better state before trying to make it work.  

Int: 39 + 10 (Tech-Use +10) = 49

D100: 49, Pass? (is it equal to or less or it is it just less than?)

 

Edited March 1, 2023 by Trokair

[Lord_Ikka]

Nicios

 

"Alright, I'll go through the tunnels to the back exit. Keep in touch. "

 

Nicios moves to the tunnel entrance where Otto had come out of, to work his way towards the back of the armourer's.

Edited March 1, 2023 by Lord_Ikka

[Lysimachus]

Reynard:

 

"5k. I could maybe give you 1, if you want in? So he's here now? Where?"
 

[Mazer Rackham]

The Cradle:

 

Her eyes open fully, and she slowly leans forward, becoming almost conspiratorial. Restal similarly leans in.

 

"A grand? Not shabby," she says with a small smile. "If he's not in here, he's in the Bunker. It's a sealed room back there." She points. "It's off-limits to me, since I'm new."

 

She leans back, pulling her heel back on, and gets to her feet, wiggling her dress to hang properly. "Shall I show sirs the way? Oh, and don't shoot up the place? I still need the job."

 

The Arcade:

 

Nicios:

 

As you go through the door, the smell hits you. Cramped humanity, dirty, sweaty. It seems there are more folks back here than the rich outsiders think. Several standing balls of mismatched cloth and odd boots shirk back from you, scurrying out of your way in rat-like furtiveness to take root in carboard and sheet metal shelters. Broken-handled brushes stand along the wall, with half-full bags of rubbish. The floor is relatively clear, track marks in the dust showing the push of brooms.

 

"Gawd, we're fer it!" one whispers hotly.

 

"E's one one of dem inspeckers!"

 

"Nah, issa revenooer!"

 

Either way, they keep back from you in fearful, descending hush.

 

Edited March 1, 2023 by Mazer Rackham

[Lysimachus]

Reynard:

 

"We'll try to avoid it."

 

Reynard stood, taking his barely touched wine glass with him.

 

"You think you can talk us in there? If it helps, my name right now is Bertram of House Von Graen of Cal Ferrina. Bertram might be interested in playing a hand or two of cards, if that's the kind of thing that happens in the Bunker? Or we could just wait for him to come back out - I assume he won't want to leave that jacket behind?"

 

[Lord_Ikka]

Nicios

 

"The door to Deadbolt's, quickly now."

 

Nicios barks at the rabble, projecting authority.

[Mazer Rackham]

The Cradle:

 

Una nods. "I think a man who can afford a coat like that probably buys a new one when his pockets are full. Follow me."

 

She nods to Dek, points towards the Bunker and the stocky bouncer joins her and they escort you around to the back of the circular bar, and down a broad service corridor, which terminates in a broad, thick metal blast door. The sound of the lounge behind you dwindles to a steady low pulse. Beside the blast door, lurk two more bouncers, although this time, they carry slung shotguns.

 

"What are you doing back here, girl? You're not supposed to leave the bar."

 

"Easy, boy," Dek says, quietly.

 

Although the two men are both taller, they are silent at his interjection. The black man is unarmed, but they listen carefully, warily.

 

"Baron von Graen," Una announces, "seeks more interesting entertainment than in the bar."

 

"Oh, he's one of those clients, eh?" the other man says. He turns and presses a button on the wall vox-com.

 

"Yes?"

 

"Another player, sir."

 

"Send him in."

 

The guard presses a large red button and the great circular door thumps three times, before retreating into the room on powerful, humming arms. The type of door, which looks like the back of a watch, suggests this was once an old bank vault. Once open, you can see inside, the dingy light from dimmed glowglobes, and the scent of lho smoke and narcotic vapours eke into the corridor, along with the sound of poker chips clashing, and the warm chuckle of a female throat.

 

The Arcade:

 

Falk:

 

As you approach Deadbolt's, no-one bats an eyelid, the patrons, shoppers and store clerks ignore you. It would, perhaps, be a different story if you were wrapped in the duty-black carapace armour of your previous profession. The several yards to the store vanish quickly, and soon you stand outside the door. Within you can hear the whoop and clatter of excited buyers testing the weapons actions, and having the demonstrations on how to clean it.

 

Your quarry should be behind this door, just a twist of the handle away.

 

Nicios:

 

They shrink back from you, mumbling and wary of your poise and commanding aura.

 

"I blimmin' said it, I blimmin said it - e's an inspecker!" one of them croaks.

 

"In-speck-tor!" another corrects.

 

"Well I ain't showing 'im round! We's forrit now, I tells yer! E'll bring the Law, 'e will!"

 

"We only takes what we's given - they throws it out, sir. We makes clothes, see. We halps," another pleads, cowing from you.

 

"We don't steal nuffin!" the first man barks.

 

There's a sigh, and one of the people throws back her hood. A young girl, her diction and manner revealing her education. "Come with me, I'll show you." She leads off, following the path around the service tunnel serving the gunshop. You can see the official store address and livery on the back door. She creaks it open, and you can hear the voices and snap of weapon actions. "Please don't report us, Inspector? We have a safe life here."

Edited March 1, 2023 by Mazer Rackham

[Lord_Ikka]

Nicios

 

Looking at the girl Nicios replied quietly, "I'm not here for you. Now go, and tell the others to stay away from this door for the next few minutes unless they want to meet the God-Emperor early."

 

Nicios eases open the door, drawing his pistol. 

 

++Falk, in place in the back.++

[A.T.]

Falk:

 

Setting his vox to continuous to keep Nicios appraised Falk made one final assessment of the area before stepping inside. Much of what would come would be down to luck, assuming Kraevus hadn't already made a discreet exit.

[Mazer Rackham]

The Gun Store:

 

As Falk enters, he is greeted by the sight of three groups, two men barely out of juve-years assessing some duelling pistols, another pair of what appear to be well-attired mercenaries working combat shotgun actions, and, at the counter, the former Secundus of Damocles.

 

Kreavus Aldario immediately looks at the newcomer, his eyes assessing, but the pupils seem dilated, his gaze unfocussed, even as he roams over your face, gear and weapons. He dismisses you, and as he does, so do his House Aldario Bodyguards.

 

Kreavus turns to the storekeeper, the shopworkers attending to the other customers. "Make that four charge packs."

 

"I'm sorry we're out of Schmidt and Weslocks, my lord. We have no more of the ones you like."

 

"It doesn't matter!" Kreavus replies, fighting frayed nerves. He careful composes himself, sweeps hair dark with sweat across his fringe, rubs the moisture on his trews. His skin is pale, drawn, with bags under his eyes. His face twitches with an irregular nervous tick. He appears to be sweating a lot, even though his elegant flakcoat is light. He reaches for his purse, pulling at the throat strings hasitly, to spill thick, freshly minted Thrones across the counter.

 

"Extra barrels and discharge lenses then, for a Mark-12."

 

"Yes my Lord."

 

One of the young men picks up a laspistol. "Pew! Pew!"

 

Kraevus rounds on them, slapping at his waist. A concealed holster carrying a laspistol glints under the lights. When he sees they are merely capering, he looks at them sternly. "Be careful. Guns are not toys."

 

He looks at Falk again, as he returns to his business, but does not linger on this new 'customer'.

[A.T.]

Falk:

 

Fixing his gaze on Kreavus and in as flat a tone as he could manage, "your lighter is waiting". Give a desperate man something to cling to and pray he is too occupied with his own troubles to question too deeply what little fortune he is offered.

 

Scrutiny to assess the situation 46 - just barely a pass.

[Mazer Rackham]

The Gun Store:

 

"What?" Kreavus spins around, but then his brain catches up with his ears. "Yes, yes, of course. About bloody time, I paid enough! Just give me a damn minute!"

 

Scrutiny:

It is obvious Kreavus is under a lot of stress and hasn't slept well. He's likely also doped up on stimms or some kind of narcotic to enhance endurance. You can smell the alkaline tang in the air from his sweat, and his pupils are blown up like saucers. The amount of light he's getting will likely be causing headaches, thus compounding his irritability.

[Lysimachus]

Reynard:

 

Ah, the corridors of power…

 

Reynard smiled widely as he stepped forward between the two bouncers. It was like coming home.

 

"The young lady will join me," he said loudly, the timbre of his voice suggesting he had drunk somewhat more than the glass in his hand. "I am greatly enjoying your company, my dear, and would not be parted from you so quickly".

 

Either it would be good to have another ally close by who could handle a gun... or it would be smart to keep Una where they could see her - it still wasn't impossible that she could be playing them in some way.

 

[Mazer Rackham]

Quick note for @Trokair, yes that's a Pass, it's always: Equal to or Less Than Target Number.

[A.T.]

Falk:

 

One express elevator to the spaceport then, look professional but not too professional and pray Nicios needed no prompting to dissuade any that might look to intercept them. That is if Kreavus could compose himself.

 

Feigning interest in his pack of lho sticks he nodded in assent and leaned back against the door frame. It didn't seem wise to push him, not yet.

[Mazer Rackham]

The Gun Store:

 

Kraevus finishes his business, pocketing the components he's ordered for whatever weapons he's carrying or has stashed away. He gathers his coat about him, even though the store isn't cold.

 

"Now, let us begone." He nods to his retainers, takes one of the cases from them. "Weapons ready. Yannic, out front. Huk, in the rear. You," he speaks to Falk. Stay close to Yannic. You will direct him. Make no comments to me. Is all this clear?"

 

He doesn't wait, directs his attention to Falk.

 

"Take me to the lander, now. Men, if anyone interferes, cut them down."

 

Autopistols and stub guns are moved to where hands can reach them easily, and Kraevus draws his own gun, shaking the sleeve of his jacket over the compact pistol.

 

The Bunker:

 

A slender man, in a black waistcoat and trousers, stirs himself from one of the seats at the mini bar within the room. The counter is attended by another lady, but her features are so fine to be exquisite. She smiles at you as the man plucks a lho stick from his lips. He casts his eyes over Reynard, Restal and Una, his smile as sharp and handsome as the woman behind him. "And why not? Come in and indulge yourselves."

 

As you step inside and pass the threshold, the door begins to close behind you. It is at that point you see the shadow draped figure of Tarkan Pirentus reclining on the cushions. He blows out  along string of purple-hinted smoke. The wispy cloud floats across a roulette wheel, before meeting three men bent over the gambling table. Playing chips pile up as the white-steel ball is put into the spinning, numbered wheel.

 

A moment later, cries of anguish as the ball drops into a slot which carries no bet. The anguish becomes laughter at easy-come, easy-go, as a woman dressed similarly to Una pours amber liquid into tall flute glasses they hold. Hard-faced men regard the trio, easing jackets aside to show weapons.

 

"A degenerate, a killer, and a common lily!" Tarkan bellows, face wrapped in blissful visitation. "Take root within this garden. Spend, play, love."

 

One figure sits cross-legged, hooded, hands tucked into his sleeves. He is immobile in a nest of cushions.

 

There are no tall seats except for the bar. Everyone lazes on the floor, thick carpet and pillows of exquisite red, purple and green upholstery.

 

The door slams shut, thumping thrice more.

 

The Arbites Tech  Lab:

 

The cursory investigations begin as Bardas engages the verispex augur-cogitation engines to probe the box. The connection chirps as it dials in, seeking communion with the hardened security shell. The engines begin to cycle and the monitors flicker as algorithms and cracker programs run.

 

A spool of data rips up the picter-screens, the sigils for wards against scrapcode, written with layered pentagrammic and hexagrammic wards, before an error message erupts.

 

//cd.power_init fail. Connect Main? Y/N

[Lord_Ikka]

Nicios

 

Hearing Kraevus give Falk orders, Nicios slips his pistol back into its holster. He moves down the tunnels, avoiding the dwellers and quickly arrives at the Arcade's entrance. His job will now be to back up Falk, as unobtrusively as possible.

 

++At the Arcade, will trail you.++

[Mazer Rackham]

The Arcade:

 

Yannic moves past Falk, and opens the door. He steps out, looks around for long moments before nodding to Falk. Kraevus and Huk crowd in behind, almost ushering Falk out with them.

 

The fugitives are very alert. To follow them will require Opposed Shadowing Tests. The order of march resembles a T shape, with Yannic and Falk at the head, spaced by 1m, then 1m behind, Kraevus, and behind him, again by 1m, is Huk. Both Henchmen have Autopistols as primary weapons. Kraevus has a compact laspistol.

 

Mood music:

Spoiler

 

 

The Cradle Bunker:

 

"Come friends!" Tarkan encourages, his voice warm and inviting. "There is much here to amuse you! Are the ladies not lovely? The men not handsome? Does the gold not sparkle?"

 

Reynard, Una and Restal will require an Opposed Willpower Roll vs Charm.

 

The robed and hooded figure turns to the host, angular plates forming hard lines under the smocking fabric. +Forget them. What of our arrangement?+

 

"Calm yourself, young seeker. Let us bathe our senses." He runs his hand over the leg of a waitress who strays near to let him. A silver inlaid, pearl-handled stub revolver squeezes out from a holster inside the front of his waistband and tumbles to the floor. He laughs, and snatches it up, spinning the cylinder six times, and placing it to his temple. There's a click.

 

"Ha-ha! The great game goes on!"

 

The roulette wheel spins again, the female croupier pulling at the large cruciform handle six times, to spin it way beyond a normal gambling rotation.  The silver ball dances, twinkling in the light.

 

Tarkan rummages under a cushion, and hurls a pouch at Restal's feet. "A thousand! Bet it, wager it!" He looks at Una with narrowed eyes. "Come girl, couch here with me. I have never had the pleasure."

[Lord_Ikka]

Nicios

 

Hmm. Looks like they are very alert. Not going to be able to shadow them without tipping our hand.

 

++Where are you taking them Falk? I'm not going to be able to follow without getting picked up, I need to move faster and get ahead.++

Edited March 2, 2023 by Lord_Ikka

[A.T.]

Falk:

 

Signalling Yannic to slow as they emerge Falk gives his instructions, and through the link guidance for Nicios, "Do nothing to draw attention, our target is the maglift foyer one hundred yards north and then we secure a private car uphive, direct. If plans change I have an aircar fueled and ready at our desination."

 

Glancing back at the other guard as they moved, "if you lot have any comms then turn them off now"

 

A few moments delay here, a little more at the maglift, walking pace between them. Enough time for Nicios to get to a lift, and more than enough time to call in for support.

[Lysimachus]

Reynard:

 

Spoiler

Opposed Wp Test: Wp25, Roll: 58, Fail, unless we had any decent modifiers.

 

For half a second, Reynard considered drawing his las and shooting Pirentus there and then. But there were too many variables. Two guards, plus he suspected that the other three staff members were probably armed too, or at least had weapons close at hand. Finally, who was the hooded figure who wanted to make deals? Instead, he took a cushion, rather heavily, putting Pirentus on his left and the unknown figure beyond the crimelord.

 

"Very kind, though less of the 'denegerate', if you don't mind. Would you be the proprietor, sir? A very pleasant atmosphere."

 

He looked beyond to the other.

 

"Bad form to share drinks and not faces, though, old boy. Speaking of…"

 

He turned to Una, placing his glass in her hand before she was forced to sit beside Pirentus. He could at least save her from that.

 

"I'll have a fresh one of these, my dearest. This one seems to have gone off."

 

[Lord_Ikka]

Nicios

 

Moving quickly, Nicios heads towards the maglift array. He hurriedly pays for a car going uphive towards the spaceport. 

[Mazer Rackham]

The Arcade:

 

"Comms?" Kraevus snaps, "Comms? Have you lost your marbles? They can hear us! This the only place they can't see!"

 

The outburst draws glances, but also distracts the group. They miss Nicios as he makes his move, quite completely.

 

Yannic carefully nods, "Aye, lord, as you say." He catches Falk's eye and, surreptitiously, gently taps a finger a finger to his temple.

 

"You're not wearing comms, are you?" Kraevus barks at Falk.

 

The Cradle Bunker:

 

Opposed WP: DRAW. (Player wins)

 

"Of course, of course. Nobles then, my friend! We are all nobles here!" Pirentus laughs, but without any rancour. He ignores Una as she goes to the bar.

 

As you pass by the roulette wheel, you can see the numbers are not standard. Each begins or ends with a '6' and where this would leave big gaps in the wheel, they are simply repeated. The betting ladder is unchanged though, and there seems to be no logical strategy to the gambling.

 

He pats your knee in a familiar manner, his hand lingering half-a-heartbeat longer than necessary. He beckons to one of his men, and is furnished with a handful of purses. Each is the size of a man's fist. He drops them all in your lap, gold, jade and amethyst winking up at you.

 

"I like you, friend! Count them!" he insists. His jovial bantering dies to utter sincerity. "I bought a favour from Drexler," he says through a grin, his beautiful smile, white and perfect, may as well be that of a Charcarodon. "That's yours, to keep, Baron."

 

The robed man straightens. +Tarkan, I will not ask you again. Where is the item I bought? Your men risked a lot at the spaceport. Now. Where. Is. My. Prize?+

 

The words are clipped, precise, but nowhere as cold as the speaker probably intends, yet each is a razor, wire tight with steel tension. The man does not look at Reynard.

 

Reynard may make a Difficult (-10) Perception Test against the robed man, but must make another Opposed Willpower Test to resist opening the bags.

Edited March 2, 2023 by Mazer Rackham