[DH1e] The Damocles Contingency (RPG IC)

[Mazer Rackham]

The Tech Labs:

 

The power transfers smoothly as Bardas and Yshing watch. The Verispex cogitator and augur engine buzzes away very happily, the machine spirit communing with exceptional efficacy.  Reams of stored data transfer and fly up the viewscreens, listing ships, weapons, confiscations, hundreds of thousands of names, places and dates.

 

"The databanks are filling, my friend," Yshing mutters excitedly. He has not yet disconnect the grounding conduit he has attached to the warplate, to help shunt away any electrostatic dump.

 

A thermal relay suddenly pops as this now happens, a power flare sending a long spark all the way along the grounding line, and across the ebony suit. It is not uncommon in large data stacking, and you expected this. A wisp of smoke lifts off the line, wafting up quite normally, the tendrils making a smiley face.

 

Power flows in parallel with the transfer of information in a torrent, terraquads of specifications, of secrets. Hymnals, kills, battle actions.

 

You realise that the cogitator from the ship, the verispex data-slave and the machine spirit of the Sororitas warplate are communing in real time.

 

//Index: Recurse_loop/dump.txt

//Echo-off/

//Op:ord/0114/Init.drv

//Runtime_err.14/reset.

Rep_Volume full.

//Protection set...override_cmd_04.exe

/?Scanning-peripheral...located.

//Driver_found...

/cd: c>cmd.601-3m.exe

//Install...

//Complete.

// I_WALK.

 

The cogitator box breaks apart, flying like shrapnel as the pentagrammic ward filaments splinter.

 

The lenses of the Sororitas' armour light. Servomusculateure twitches.

 

"Throne! Adept, quickly - the Techxorcism gun!"

 

The Armour moves quickly, a hollow lump of powered cermaite, pulling itself together as a human would dress. It stands fully erect, and surveys the scene. It spies Yshing fleeing, and draws the boltgun, putting a round between his shoulders, and blowing his upper torso into smoking, seared ruin. The Tech lab fills with fyceline stink as it lowers the weapon to a ready carry.

 

The helm slowly rotates to Bardas as the vacant, walking shell clanks and clumps forward.

 

The anti-possession weapon is 30 metres away.

 

At the sound of the shot, the alarm goes off, and the vox-caster sparks into life.

 

+React team on the way. Tech Labs, answer!+

 

The hollow thing grinds out a strange garble of binharic, before words come.

 

+ThEy ComE. GooOoD.+

Edited March 3, 2023 by Mazer Rackham

[A.T.]

Falk:

 

Falk felt no pity for the old man. The death of two hives lay at his feet, the willing pawn seeking to justify his failure.

 

Striking the control pannel once more he watched the flames lap up around the lift. Nicios had not replied, perhaps the words of Kreavus' confession would yet go unheard.

 

One more possibility... Gwynne had heard the call of Dreyfuss, perhaps this death too. Her will had countered her sisters once before as he closed his eyes and called out in the darkness.

[Mazer Rackham]

The Cradle of Lust:

 

+ STRUCTURED TIME BEGINS +

 

+ ROUND 1 +

 

MAP: (It's on another page, so easier here).

Spoiler

+ Initiative Order +

 

The Robed Man simply shakes his head and shrugs as the violence erupts.

Spoiler

Robed Man/Stranger:

Actions: Half Action - Delay

 

The Cultists are not so slow, maintaining their discordant chant.

 

Bartender:

Spoiler

Half Action: Equip Weapon (Shotgun behind the bar.

Half Action: Standard Attack (Una) = MISS

 

Cultist 1:

Spoiler

Full Action: Charge (Restal) = MISS

 

Cultist 2: (Seated)

Spoiler

Half Action: Stand

Half Action: Draw Sacrificial Dagger (RH)

 

Reynard [ ] (Remember, you're seated).

 

Edited March 5, 2023 by Mazer Rackham
Map updated

[Mazer Rackham]

The Hellevator:

 

Opposed Security Tests: Falk wins by 2 DoS.

 

The Thoughts and urgings both metaphysical and electronic begin to take effect.  An emergency rocket brake begins to fight the perilous drop, jerking everyone in the lift violently, bringing them to their hands and knees. One of the guards falls over, landing on Kreavus' corpse. He rolls off him quickly.

"Apologies my lord." He looks. "Oh, right. Habit."

 

Beyond, a strange eerie feeling of someone turning towards you, straining to hear a whisper on the winds that blow beyond this world and the veil. Something pale, silver.

 

The words have a voice, if such a thing were possible as they dally into your mind. Somewhere above, you can feel the keen sense of a spinning ring.

 

In the land of darkness, look to Justice, for she is blind, and will lead the way. If you have no eyes to see, the reflection does not look.

[Lord_Ikka]

Nicios

 

"Send me down to the other lifter, where ever it ends up. Thank you citizen."

 

Nicios steps into the empty lift, drawing his gun and preparing himself for anything. The litany of Purification fills his mind, calming him as the lifter moves downward.

Spoiler

 

 

 

Manifest Pyschic Power (Resist Possession)

Threshold- 7

Roll - 6 + 5(WPB)

Result = Pass, no Psychic Phenomenon occur 

 

++On my way Falk, the Emperor protects.++

Edited March 4, 2023 by Lord_Ikka

[Lysimachus]

Reynard:

 

Spoiler

Half Action: Stand

 

 

Even as the keening started, Reynard was rising to his feet, reaching into his pocket. Throne, could it get any worse in this Emperor-forsaken Hive? A Cult? He didn't know much about such things, but even from children's stories he knew what had to be done. Burn the place to the ground. He pulled out the bottle of booze with a scrap of cloth jammed in its neck.

 

Spoiler

Free Action: Ready Fire Bomb

Half Action: Throw Fire Bomb between H, 2, 3, and 4.
3m Blast should be sufficient to hit all of them.
BS41 +10(Short Range) = 51, Roll: 45, Hit.
Dam 1d10+3 Pen 6
Dam rolls: 2, 9,5,6
Any targets hit must make an Ag test or catch on fire.

 

 

Reynard lit and lobbed the improvised device into the closest mass of bodies, where it exploded with a sudden, very satisfying blast of heat and light. He shied back, only to see the robed figure standing motionless. Reynard still couldn't hear a thing, but he suspected the other man could.

"Help us, fool!" he bawled as loudly as he could, "or they'll kill us all!"

 

 

 

Spoiler

Toughness Test: T24, Roll: 71, Fail (unsurprisingly). 1 Level of Fatigue suffered.

 

[Mazer Rackham]

Just a note - The inflicted Level of Fatigue will not take effect until the next Round begins, (it's at the end of every Round, not turn) so you will still be clear for any Tests until then. Popping it in your Turn is a top idea, really helpful for me to plan, much appreciated. 

 

The Cradle of Lust:

 

Reactions: (Dodges at -10)

Cultist 2: FAIL - AG Test Fire: FAIL. On Fire (6/12)

 

Reynard's Molotov illuminates the dim room, with the cultists either caught or shying away from the sudden brilliance. As it dies down, one of the wicked sect is lit up in a candle. He laughs and screams at the same time the fire begins to devour him.

 

Cultist 3: PASS - Dodges AGB, (Already seated, so now Prone)

Cultist 4: PASS - Dodges AGB, (Already seated, so now Prone)

Hostess: FAIL - AG Test Fire FAIL. On Fire (9/12)

 

The robed figure's mantle twitches, and an armoured gauntlet appears from a sleeve, making secret hand signals.

You may attempt to decipher the general gist on a Challenging (+0) Intelligence Test. Each DoS gets you two words. The sign is very simple.

 

Restal [ ]

 

Edited March 4, 2023 by Mazer Rackham
Forgot the Hostess.

[Trokair]

Bardas
 

Abomination is the first thing that comes to Bardas’s mind, but he manages to not exclaim it. A negative reaction could well draw the things deadly ire. He did not even have to glance at where the gun lay; it was too far for him right now. Yshings last words of advice would have to wait.

 

Drawing Saxa was also out of the question, he was too close to the animated armour. It would see his intend and greet it with bolt shells. In any case he suspected that while he might damage the armour it was unlikely to cripple let alone expel the possessing spirit.

 

He needed to buy time.

 

+Would Sir like a cup of kaff?+ he asked the armour, bowing slightly and in so doing taking a step sideways, fractionally further away from where the boltgun’s arc of coverage.

Edited March 4, 2023 by Trokair

[Mazer Rackham]

The Tech Labs:

 

The helm cants to one side. More biharic, but it is heavily infested with scrapcode distortion and vox compression. The abomination gives up.

 

+QueRy: IdEnTify: ClaDE.+

 

 

Edited March 4, 2023 by Mazer Rackham
Spelling

[Mazer Rackham]

Nicios:

 

With a  cheery little ping, the lift doors close, and the vox comes through from the operator. "Better hold on!"

 

There is an ominous rasp of metal on metal, and the groan of weight straining on a hinge.

 

Then the drop comes, savagely thrashing the car around until after nine or ten seconds you begin to feel weightless, the car rapidly approaching terminal velocity, and passing into this deadly speed and fall, your feet leave the ground and you start to float to the top of the car.

 

As you lift up, and become truly without any friction, the rattling continues around you only through divorced sounds. The terrible tremble of a steel bullet hurtling down a rigid barrel, physics and laws of reason battling to keep you on track.

 

You can feel several minds, as though listening for a train by placing your ear to the rail. Coolness, order. Calmness, soothing. And a red hot blade of rage, wedging itself between the metal parts of safety, trying to crowbar them off...

[Lysimachus]

Reynard:

 

Seemingly in response to his shout, the other man starting waving his hand around. Reynard tried to grasp it, but the chaos around them made it very difficult …

 

Spoiler

Int test: Int38, Roll: 53, Fail.

 

 

He looked around, trying to see if anyone else had got the message, and saw the bartender's shot pass over Una's head. A miss, but she was still right in the midst of the enemy. He tried to wave and get her attention, giving what he hoped was close enough to the Guard handsign for 'fall back'.

 

Lose the heels and run, girl!

[A.T.]

Falk

 

Faith, anathema to the heretic. Falk pushed himself upright in defiance against this assault. Born to a shrine world he had walked amongst the truest of faithful and as arbite and suffering marshal he had brought the Emperors judgement down upon those who clothed themselves falsely in his glory.

 

"Let the word of the Emperor be heard once more, let those who would defy him look upwards unto the stars and know that the Emperor looks back upon them from the Golden Throne". His defiance now though not directed at Helene but at the shadow that stood behind her, no longer a figure from her fathers past but by Kreavus' confession a shadow that was yet cast across this whole affair. Perhaps even in her madness the queen would see that she still remained a pawn, "Let those that cower in the shadows know that the judgement of the Emperor comes for them all and so it shall be until the end of time".

[Mazer Rackham]

The Hellevator:

 

An illogical darkness permeates the metal shell, making the light dirty, as though the box is filled with invisible smog. A strange, greasy metallic taste pollutes the air.

 

The vox speaker on the wall erupts with harsh static, and then a voice, speaking in or through the tongue of men responds.

 

"I await your Judgement, pathetic, mortal fool..."

 

Laughter erupts, ringing in hollow, vox-coded thrashes, louder and louder, until the guards cover their ears, screaming, before the wet pop of innards, and blood spurts from between fingers. Likewise, blood seeps through all panel facings, dripping thickly. The lights go out completely, the guards mewling in deafened terror, before the light returns, and the lift slows, another emergency rocket firing.

 

Red heat glows from the rail clamps, striking sweat on all living occupants of the lift, and on the wall, two words scrawling in rapidly evaporating blood.

 

"Deliver. Locke."

 

The Lift slowly grinds to a halt, with a residual whisper of distant, cruel laughter.

[Trokair]

Bardas

 

If there had been a mortal component to the sentience animating Valkyrie’s armour it was not apparent from the reaction so far, but then that would have just been a fringe benefit, the distraction buying time being primary.  

 

Bardas turned off his vox, and limited auditory and visual feeds to minimal bit rate. The world turned greyscale, and sounds lost their depth and texture. He did not want to leave any way in for the scrape code that the thing was emanating.

 

Though perhaps the scrap code was not emanating from it intentionally. The way it appeared almost frustrated by its own attempts to cant its query. He considered for a moment, but not too long, if it grew impatient with him he might share Yshings fate.

 

+ Bardas Sentry Warden W/O-O-D M Shrine 21354+ he answered truthfully. Information that in itself was of little relevance to the present but might tick of some non hostile criteria in the armours threat analysis. He was not a designated fighter like those of the Skitarii designation.

 

Taking a chance he slightly bowed again.

 

+I am here to assist, you are suffering from scrap code infection, if you rest over here I can aid you in purging the infection.+

 

Spoiler

Int Test as per Mazer’s OCC post to discern more of the nature of our Mecha Rubric Sororitas.

Int 39

D100: 45, Fail

 

Edited March 4, 2023 by Trokair

[Mazer Rackham]

The Tech Lab:

 

The automaton seems to examine you. The thing attempts binary congress again, but gives up.

 

+Sen-t-t-ttNnel. GOoD. WarrIOR ClaDe. Yoo-yo-yo-u m-Ust DE-de-DE-FEND me. WhY reSISt ?Commune?.+

 

You can glean no further information from the thing as it stands there, the loss of vocalised binharic robs you of any further clues.

[Trokair]

 

Bardas

 

+By the grace of the Omnissiah and the duty I am sworn to, identify yourself.+

 

Making three symbols of devotion and protection in sequence with his hands Bards spoke slowly.

 

+Commune protocol states only contact with pure sanctified routines, you have a taint running havoc within.+

Edited March 4, 2023 by Trokair

[A.T.]

Falk

 

He was aware of the sound, ever louder until it blocked out all things, yet Falk strained to listen for that second voice as the whisper now distant and faded echoed in counterpoint to mocking laughter. Raising his arms not to his ears but to his chest in the sign of the aquila in stubborn rejection for it was no mortal judgement that awaited this thing but the enactment of the God Emperors will.

 

Light returned and another rocket fired as the presence faded but Falk remained still. He had heard the voice before and assumed that it was Helene but now...

 

The adrenaline fuelled focus soon made way to the pain of the assault and a passing regret that his unpreparedness had isloated him from Nicios at this critical time. But the psyker would at least be able to assist the others, who knows how long or how far this place was from the starport.

 

Hauling first Kreavus and then his guards from the elevator he knelt down to assess the latters condition. Witnessess to a lords confession but also to things that assured their lives would be short, the Emperors Mercy would likely be mercy indeed.

[Mazer Rackham]

The Tech Lab:

 

The thing straightens, and the bolter muzzle slowly rises.

 

+ o_No-oOO. YOu_?u? arE FaulTY. FlESHmeTal M-m-Meatsack Un-WorThy, of my MaGNIFICAT(MAGNI-FACT, MAGNIFICENT)..trUtH. You had-had-had-had-had-had a ChaNCE. HoStIlE CON...conTAcT.+

 

Just as the bolter muzzle aligns with your face, so you can see down the rifled maw, the lab doors blow open, and the React Team pours in, behind suppression shields.

 

"What in hell's name is going on here?" Haldane demands.

 

The automaton spins, although nearly overbalances.

+GoOOD. NOW, DEL-del-DELIVER LOCKE.+

 

The bolter fires on the lawmen.

Edited March 4, 2023 by Mazer Rackham

[Mazer Rackham]

The Hellevator:

 

Falk:

 

As the doors of the lift car grind open, and you pull the bodies out, the light from inside your would-be tomb illuminates the immediate area. Darkness lingers here, the steel walls and passages of the hive are still and silent, lightless.

 

Dust, debris, rust and the odd cobweb stir at the passage of these interlopers, but nothing more. The lift has melted into place, fixing it as your only point of reference, and the solitary link to the world above. Maybe the Emperor's Peace is warranted for the guards, but at the moment, they are your only company.

 

And yet - not. A strange peace settles nearby, hovering. You can smell old vellum and dried, ancient parchment. Spilled ink, and the scrawling of letters. Someone still watches, someone who does not need to see in the dark.

[Trokair]

Bardas

 

The arrival of Haldane and the React Team likely saved his life, but they would like pay for it.

 

With the animated armour now focused on them Bardas took the opportunity to move further long the room. He also signalled to Haldane as to the location of the Techxorcism gun. It was not a tool he was familiar with, the Arbite specialist might know more.

 

The entity was also still getting used to its new vessel, perhaps he could take advantage of its lack of balance and topple it. He kept a calculating eye on its movement, seeking a chance.

 

While the previous verbal spar had been infective it had occupied its attention, one more try then, and it might buy the Lawmen some space and time as well.

 

+Who is this Locke? We can hardly find someone when we don’t know who that is?+

[Mazer Rackham]

The Tech Lab:

 

+GaRRad LoCke, Hum_n, Male, 39 Y-rs, de=(cEaSed)-dead-d.err/[Redact],LIESIKNOWHEISHERE...//re-TasK. LocaTe/Shun?/tion-on: IRRelevANt.+

 

The bolt shells clatter against one of the suppression shields, knocking the lawmen back, and wounding one heavily. The pattern of shots is obvious, trying to break the resilient shield wall. The Arbites know it too, having faced violent mobs countless times. Haldane himself takes the risk, and drags the wounded man to safety, before taking up the battered shield and making the tortugan formation whole once more.

 

An angry snarl of binharic and servos erupts from the metal beast as it sends bolts towards you, blasting fist sized holes from the cabinets and benches, showering you with sharp wood chips and molten plasteel globules. The concussion buffets you, but in the close quarters makes it stagger.

 

"Get the bloody Techxorcism gun before we get blown to hell! Bring it here!"

 

The thing suddenly veers towards you, grasping. It stumbles after you through the dirt and debris. A riot of Arbites shotgun slugs hit it, smacking it backwards, causing it to fall over a bench. Parts of the armour plate break off, but it crawls along the floor towards you with one remaining leg, loosing off another burst at the Judges.

[A.T.]

Falk

 

The elevator at his back provided as much of a defensive position as could be expected here as Falk fell back on his basic training. Scan the immediate area, check weapons, check comms, assess supplies.

 

A journey on foot back to the surface would take days but there were adjacent mag-trains at the station and their nature would mean that they path down would not have strayed far even if they did not travel as deep, if he could fix his current location with his cartograph then it might perhaps be possible to rejoin the lift system at a higher level... though given the nature of the enemy another such ride may not end as favourably.

 

Kreavus' guards he left undisturbed for now, not wanting to try and shout down or forcibly subdue them and draw attention to this position as they remained dazed and deafened by the experience. Kreavus himself though, or what was left of him, he relieved of his ammunition and other possessions. Perhaps something he carried would shed more light on his words and regardless proof would be needed of his death.

[Mazer Rackham]

Falk:

 

You retrieve (from Kraevus' person):

• 1 x Compact Laspistol
• 2 x Laspistol charge packs (for the compact)
• A locket with a holocameo of a blindfolded woman (Gwynne)
• 2 x purses of 1xD10+10 Thrones
• A transport chit for passage on an Imperial Navy ship (The Robed Scholar)
• An access card to the Aldario personal Estates.
• 1 x silver betrothal ring (hallmarked) inset with a Garnet (worth about 50 Thrones).

 

[Mazer Rackham]

The Cradle:

 

+ ROUND ONE CONT +

 

+ Initiative Order +

Spoiler

Robed Man = 15 (??/??) (Arm: ??) (Delay)

Bartender = 14 (12/12) (Arm 2) [x]

Cultist 1 = 14 (12/12) (Arm 2) [x]

Cutist 2 = 14 (06/12) (Arm 2) (Standing, On Fire) [x]

Reynard = 13 [x]

Restal = 13

Una Weslock = 13 (15/15) (Arm 2)

Cultist 3 = 11 (12/12) (Arm 2) (Prone)

Cultist 4 = 10 (12/12) (Arm 2) (Firearm) (Prone)

Cultist 5 = 7 (12/12) (Arm 2)

Cultist 6 = 7 (12/12) (Arm 2)

Hostess = 7 (09/12) (Arm 2) (Firearm) (Seated, On Fire)

 

MAP:
 

Spoiler

 

Restal: [ ]

 

Restal my make a Routine (+10) Intelligence Test (due to Ciphers) to read the hand sign being made by the Robed Man/Stranger.

Edited March 6, 2023 by Mazer Rackham

[Machine God]

Kerr Restal:

 

His two were engulfed by the flames from a Molotov. He checked his arc and noticed the Robed Figure moving his gauntlet in a set of signals. 

 

 

INT 33 +10 (Routine - Ciphers: Acolyte) = 43%. Result: 04, Pass 3DoS

 

 

As he thought of the translation, he noticed one of the screaming madmen charge at him. He was able take a half-step carefully backwards as the attack narrowly missed his by stepping on one of the loose cushions. 

 

Presented with a viable target he unleashed shots from his pair of Las Carbines into the figure at his feet. 

 

 

BS 40 +10 (SAB) +30 (Point Blank Range) -20 (Two Weapon Mastery) = 60.

Result: 03, Pass 5DoS. 

Hit #1: Left Arm: 7 +2 = 9.

Hit #2: Left Arm: 10 +2 =12 (RF = 30, Pass) 7 +2 = 9.

 

BS 40 +10 (SAB) +30 (Point Blank Range) - 20 (Two Weapon Mastery) = 60. 

Result: 25, Pass 3DoS. 

Hit #1: Body: 4 +2 = 6.

Hit #2: Body: 1 +2 = 3.