[DH1e] The Damocles Contingency (RPG IC)

[Mazer Rackham]

Nicios:

 

"No divergence, no distractions," Locke replies, nodding. "Very well then, we proceed as we must, and await the miracles of the Mechanicum."

[A.T.]

Falk:

 

Level 4 then. Such equipment would not be issued for simple uprisings, but after the incident with the power armour and the servitors they had faced it was prudent to prepare for the worst. Though whether that was to be the mechanical servants of the golem or whatever Dreyfuss had unleashed remained to be seen.

[Trokair]

Bardas

 

There was a moment during the interfacing ritual when the Lawmen’s security spirits brushed up against the Inquisitorial imprint and a brief skirmish flared up. Bardas did not know if it could have led to the alter rejecting him, but it did not come to it as the other interfaced Priest quelled the choir spirit long enough for the proper handshake protocols to carry through.  

 

Bardas almost laughed at the notion that he had experience to share, surly between them, having worked alongside the Lawmen for so long, they would have plenty in all sorts of enemies of hte Omnissiah.

 

Nonetheless he bundled up his memories and files on the night-time encounter, the servo skull and the golem spring forth from the cogitator.

 

++One on one it will devour any of us, together is our only chance.++

[Mazer Rackham]

Bardas:

 

You will now require a series of Extended Tests. This should be narrated by you bearing in mind the nature of your task, and the character of your enemy.

 

You must make Five (5) Challenging (+0) Tech Use Tests, which will benefit from a Maximum Assistance from the other Technomants of +20. These Tests will be Opposed.

 

Questions in the OOC.

 

Falk:

 

The Special Weapons man takes a look at the Req order. "Wait a moment, Magistrate."

 

He vanishes into a back room and returns carrying a scratched and chipped weapons case, with four locks across the front, and extremely sturdy hinges. He cracks it open, and turns it around to reveal a Vox Legi, trussed into securefoam.

 

"We didn't have anything bigger," the man grins. "You will need to give me that peashooter now, though, Magistrate."

 

He points to the autogun peeking out from under your long coat.

Edited March 19, 2023 by Mazer Rackham

[A.T.]

Falk:

 

"Enter it into evidence with the other, and i'll be needing slug rounds for armoured targets". Falk unslung the autogun and added the weapons from his expedition with Kreavus, long hours of training flooding back as he worked the shotguns action and checked for obstructions and fittings.

 

It had been years since he carried one as his work in the shadows demanded less conspicuous weaponry - one look at this would leave no doubt to any Imperial citizen as to his credentials but given the recent uprisings it would at least make clear in any fire fight which side of the conflict he stood upon.

 

Marksmanship had never been a strength of his but a sufficiently large gun could cover for many other weaknesses.

 

 

Falk will convert what he can of spare cash and guns into ammo, a fire select, etc, Manstopper slugs?

[Mazer Rackham]

Yes, that's fine A.T. One full Manstopper Magazine (14 rounds) and a Shot Selector to use them.

 

The Equipment Room: (Rolls have been provided)

 

Scourge (Contributed by Necronaut):

 

With a satisfied squint in one eye he landed a blow upon his hulking opponent, only to receive a brutal reprisal in turn. The massive man was fiendishly quick, and seemed utterly inured to pain. 

 

The blow to his leg drove him to his knees, but with a pained growl surged back to his feet and lurched backwards, sending out a savage flurry of strikes at his opponent's exposed head in the hopes of buying himself some breathing room. 

 

This sparring match seemed as though it might soon devolve into a brawl between the two combatants if it continued at its current pace. 

 

----------

 

Cephas takes the blow, the stave smacking onto his head hard enough to make the stave shudder and twang. The giant doesn't even pay it heed. He chops once with the Rudius, numbing Scourge's other hand, and then abandoning his sword, grips the crusader and hurls him bodily to the deck. Mighty arms pin the Penitent as he kicks and struggles in vain.

 

Just as swiftly, the brute, mute boulder of muscle retreats, and claps. His hands and fingers dance.

 

Cedric takes over. "Your body has accepted the gifts, without ague, and your spirit is strong enough to wear warplate."

 

More seconds pass as you lie there looking up, panting. More secret language.

 

"He is reasonably impressed," Cedric smiles. "He will teach you what you need to know."

 

Still need the XP spend, Necro, but Basic Weapon Training (Bolt) is now available to buy. Scourge emerges from the equipment room harnessed in the ramshackle, but serviceable power armour, after having it donned by Cephas' quick, studied hands.

 

The Godwyn Diaz sits slung around Scourge's chest. (Note this has 10 rounds in the magazine. The rest have either been deformed or damaged in training. You will need to purchase more ammunition for the weapon individually).

Edited March 20, 2023 by Mazer Rackham
Updates

[Trokair]

Bardas

 

As the choir reached harmony and the other priest signalled that they were ready it was time to begin. Bardas had long ago learned that when contending with complex operation in the realm of blessed machine it could help to visualise and abstract the data so as to not to drown in raw data.

 

As in his training years he visualised the old and battered regicide board, the one that was more a construct of recollection then an actual memory. He had not learned to play back then, just glimpses of the piece on the rare occasion that it had been out. He had not learned till many years later, but the board was a certainty.

 

The first move, a little piece stepping forth a square, the choir reaching out, venturing into those systems adjacent to their home, securing them and isolating them form the Hive.

 

Spoiler

Tech-Use Test

Int: 39 + 10 (Tech-Use + 10) + 20 (Technomant  Assistance) = 69

D100: 47, Pass, 2 DoS

 

The far side of the board was shrouded, the oppositions move hidden. They would have to play on to see further. With a breachhead into the Hive the choir advanced, another piece, another data node. On they went, move after move, by now the opposition was in motion, but they only saw evidence fleetingly, traces of past presence, pieces left behind in empty squares, abandoned or a lure.

 

Spoiler

Tech-Use Test

Int: 39 + 10 (Tech-Use + 10) + 20 (Technomant  Assistance) = 69

D100: 25, Pass, 4 DoS

 

A trap, pull back. The warning was in time to safe the choir, but they had to sacrifice ground, perhaps it had cost the opposition more than it had them. In the midhive two floors lost power and emergency doors slammed shut. It would be hours before repair crews replaced all the burned out control systems.

 

Spoiler

Tech-Use Test

Int: 39 + 10 (Tech-Use + 10) + 20 (Technomant  Assistance) = 69

D100: 80, Fail, 1 DoF

 

In the factorum assembly lines halted or sped up, the rhythm broken, the workers milled and Overseers bellowed.  Light shed on the board, their assault was working, clearing the golem from the Hive. However it was not all theirs, a people lift drowned in fire suppressant, an accounting house records lost, wiping fortunes and debts alike.  

 

Spoiler

Tech-Use Test

Int: 39 + 10 (Tech-Use + 10) + 20 (Technomant  Assistance) = 69

D100: 18, Pass, 5 DoS

 

They regrouped shored up their defences. Another attack was warded off; the squares contested, then empty, pieces stacking up by the side of the board. They could hold the vicinity, but this way the hive was going to be difficult. A new tactic, slash and burn the camera feeds, scramble connections, reroute the flow of information. It would be months to put right, or worse, but what else could they try.

 

Spoiler

Tech-Use Test

Int: 39 + 10 (Tech-Use + 10) + 20 (Technomant  Assistance) = 69

D100: 94, Fail, 2 DoF

 

The board had wrapped, expanded, twisted, the pieces far more numerous, the visualisation aid failing. They had skirmished with the opposition, traded ground and pieces and it was still unclear if they held the ground the needed, or merely a hollow hive.  

[Mazer Rackham]

=][= END OF ACT I =][=

Edited March 20, 2023 by Mazer Rackham

[Mazer Rackham]

++ THE DAMOCLES CONTINGENCY ++

+ ACT II: THE CHAOS ENGINE +

 

CHAPTER ONE: WHAT EVILS BELOW

 

MISSION CLOCK: 0000 HRS ZULU.

TIME REMAINING: 06 Days

 

+++++++

 

The World of Damocles, The Hall Of Judgement, Night Cycle, 1st Segment .999.M41:

 

The Strategium has been left to you all, the Acolytes standing around the holotable as Locke manipulates it to display the different sections of the hive, he pulls them apart and plucks them into a rank of organised blocks.

 

"Now the blindfold has been applied, we have several objectives. You have each made representations where you venture. The most critical mission may well be the smallest. All must succeed."

 

He pauses, gathering his thoughts.

 

"The Gladius will be a tangled wreck. A patrol of search and seizure will be mounted, and equipment requisitioned. Lady Gwynne must be located, and possibly rescued. Lucian Greyson may need to be apprehended, but he should be locked within the Canthus holdings by the maniacs who besiege us."

 

"We have several wildcards who may make life more interesting for us. Lady Helene is at large, but without her confederate will possibly lose focus and become desperate. From your reports, we may have a few solutions to that," he tails off as he looks to Scourge, Nicios and then Falk.

 

"The De Grassis have mobilised. They are refusing all request for audience, or assistance. House Guards in armed transports have seized random areas of the Upper and Middle Hive before fading away. Whilst no Arbites or Frateris warriors have been injured, many have been killed, and their objectives remain unclear."

 

"The agent known as Drexler will be contacted by an incursion team composed of Acolytes. What aid she may provide will likely be in information, but we can assume she will be trying to leverage the advantage of the imbalance to increase her holdings and influence. Her top agents Tracer and Scalpel are no-where to be found."

 

"We will make use of our strength to confuse and contain as much of the enemy as possible. Arbites teams will attack several areas of disorder where the Golem relies on his allies. He is weakest there. We will use this as cover."

 

"Lastly, we must venture into the dark places where evil lurks, where a hated foe awaits us, and craves our death."

 

The deck shakes, a rhythmic pounding of something heavy treading towards the command centre. Locke looks up, a slight smile on his face. He displays no urgency or concern. The hammering ceases, and the thickly armoured door at the end of the room opens. At first you can't quite tell what it is, the lights are low, doused to arterial crimson without, and only strangled brilliance of the holotable within.

 

The thing shrugs, long robes and sleeves draped over hard and smooth angles, crumpling and unfolding as the almost-machine enters, servomechanics purring. He contorts to enter - ducking - until he steps inside and straightens to full height. Blue eye-lenses blaze from the recesses of a deep, dark hood. The huge man in giant armour nods to Locke, then Scourge, before resuming his inexorable approach.

 

He is festooned with weapons, and each is massive in both construction and capacity for destruction.

 

At his hip hands a long blade, feathered wings across the hilt, and angelic reliefs upon the pommel. Electro-capacitors indicate the nature of this hallowed weapon. Astride his waist, a thick leather belt trusses his robes, the garment hangs down and folds around the two worn holsters, one on each hip. The butt of each differs. One is obviously a bolt pistol, the other has a small plasma flask screwed into place in the well.

 

Lapping powder and arming grease mix with weapon oils and leather wax as the chisel helm of the warplate's casque dips.

 

He looks as though he's stepped straight off a grand relief in the upper hive, robes splitting to show mis-matched, but very ancient armour panels. Bardas perhaps recognises the Mk IV Maximus fixtures and fittings, the master-work gauntlets and vambraces.

 

It is an Emperor's Angel, a Space Marine.

 

+Did I miss anything?+ the armoured killer rumbles. His voice is a rich baritone, a hint of humour not stolen by the vox distortion.

Edited March 29, 2023 by Mazer Rackham

[Lysimachus]

Reynard:

 

Reynard watched cautiously as the Space Marine entered.

 

Thought so.

 

The monster single-handedly filled the room. Reynard had seen Astartes before, but only once, from a distance, and a very long time ago. An uprising on Cal Ferrina had been put down with brutal efficiency by the Marines Adamant, indisputably the most fearsome warriors of the entire Havilar Sector. He had been a child at the time, but he still remembered the feral trophies and the sense of cold savagery carried by the green-armoured titans. This 'Cephas' looked slightly more civilized, but Reynard suspected that similar savagery lurked not far beneath.

 

How impressive that Locke had the sheer influence to call upon such a bodyguard! Reynard wouldn't have minded one for himself… except being followed by a giant would make it awfully hard to keep a low profile. He frowned. In his new armour, Scourge would be almost as noticeable. Bardas and Restal were bound for the Gladius. Drexler hadn't liked Nicios at all, and Reynard couldn't imagine she'd get on any better with a lawman like Falk.

 

Looks like you're on your own, old boy.

 

 

 

Edited March 29, 2023 by Lysimachus

[Trokair]

Bardas

 

A Seraph, the Omnissiah’s favoured knights, a scion of the Sons, though he lacked the knowledge to tell which Sons’s linage aided the Deadman. Many of the others in the room would no doubt take heart and hope at his presence, and mighty as he was, against two dead Hives what did his prowess truly amount to? Any individual engagement with the forces of the Golem would turn in their Favour with a Seraph at their side, however he could be in but one place and time.

Edited March 29, 2023 by Trokair

[Machine God]

Kerr Restal:

 

He had observed the briefing from a position of security, next to a wall.

 

 

It moved with purpose and presence into the room, like a giant.

 

He noticed others had turned to regard it's approach. Behind his mask he just moved his eyes.

 

So the legends were true? But he was now an acolyte of the Inquisition....

 

I should be unfazed.

 

 

Training took over in his appraisal.

 

Looking for weak points and working out its reach.

 

He could even spy how its armour worked. No I must seek Bardas about those impure thoughts!

 

 

Then the giant spoke with mirth on his voice.

 

+Did I miss anything?+ 

 

 

"Do the Angels of Death miss things then?" Kerr Restal asked from the shadows.

 

[A.T.]

Falk

 

Throne... that the astartes now stood here spoke ill of the situation even as the presence of the Emperors Angel should bring hope. Angels of death, the fresh allocations of weapons and armour taking on new meaning. There was to be a purging.

 

For all his crimes Greyson now seemed inconsequential. The tool of a dead man he and perhaps all of the Canthus holdings might burn for lack of reason to spare them amidst the chaos as the events they helped create now spiral far beyond their control.

 

De Grassi though, his attacks not so random Falk suspected and likely tied to Helene and Gwynne and the coven that had been spoken of. His acts and those of the Arbites would push those they sought lower into the hive and that is where they must follow.

[Mazer Rackham]

Strategium:

 

The boulder of ceramite and plasteel slowly turns his head in Restal's direction, the folds of his scarlet hood rasping against the helm.

 

The silence drags out, pointedly.

 

+Breakfast,+ Cephas replied.

[Machine God]

Kerr Restal:

 

"Breakfast is not a thing to miss. I would have thought that your armour provided you with sustenance" said Kerr Restal, striding forwards into the light.

 

"Here you go!" He said tossing something to the Giant.

 

 

 

BS 40 = 40. Result: 10, Pass 3DoS

 

 

"Its only a corpse-starch bar, but we can't have you going hungry. It might impede your performance."

 

 

 

Edited March 30, 2023 by Machine God
typo

[Mazer Rackham]

Cephas:

 

The starch bar flies at his head, but he doesn't move. It bounces off his casque with a dull tunk, to drop into a fold of his robe, from where he deftly retrieves it. He bounces it in his palm, bumping it into the air before catching it again.

 

+Perhaps keep it for later?+

 

He grasps the bar, winding his arm for the throw.

[Lord_Ikka]

Nicios

 

"I think scholam food fights are behind us all, aren't they?"

 

Nicios' voice was waspish- he had several encounters with the Astartes before and didn't particularly enjoy them. For a telepath like himself, their intense focus and dedication to war made for minds that "tasted" of iron and duty. The Astartes were useful, and very much important parts of the God-Emperor's works, but not something that Nicios wanted to be around much.

 

"We need to decide how and where to proceed. Time is short, correct?"

[Mazer Rackham]

The Strategium:

 

"Quite so," Locke adds. He follows the Seeker's interjection with flat derision. He levels a gaze at the Space Marine, before turning it onto the Killer.

 

Cephas pockets the bar quietly, as Locke begins to hand out the assignments. (As specified in the OOC).

[A.T.]

Falk

 

Falk eyed Restal, wondering if the stress had brought on some madness in him or if some wider malaise was spreading across the hive bringing on the heightening conflicts. Each of them had been exposed to the workings of the witch and the warp in the past days, something that only heightened the need to find Gwynne.

 

Glancing over the assignment roster it would seem the two of them would be making this search together.

[Machine God]

Kerr Restal:

 

He thought to use joviality to sway his awe.

 

A long game.

 

 

Kerr Restal caught the gaze of Inquisitor Locke upon himself after the play.

 

He bowed and made the sign of the aquila with both hands to Locke.

 

 

He stepped back and brought out his arms wide.

 

"Restal and Cephas on Damocles!"

 

 

 

[Mazer Rackham]

The Strategium:

 

The giant once more tilts his head. If a stern, unflinching armoured countenance could raise an eyebrow, this would be it.

 

+Restal and Cephas...on the Voivode.+

 

Locke smiles as he moves his hand over the holotable, and orbital images show the smashed and battered wreck of the Gladius. "I'm quite sure you'll all get along marvellously. Adept Bardas, do you think you will require cutting or infiltration gear?"

 

The wreck has several access points, but the sands and corrosive atmosphere have eaten and scoured the exterior. Most of the hull is patchwork cermaite, except for the thickened armoured belts around the hull, those remain in ominous ebonised plasteel. The hull is crumpled in many places, fallen in on itself in others.

[Trokair]

Bardas

 

+At minimum some breaching charges or similar in case we need to blast or burn our way in or through internal bulkhead. If the Armour can spare more dedicated gear then that. We whould also bring rad-proof rebreathers and clean airsupply if possible, as well as ropes, climbing gear and similar, unless the wreck is nicely flat and level. Perhaps the Voidsman has further insights as well.+

[Mazer Rackham]

The Spaceport:

Bardas/Restal/Cephas

 

The Arbites suppression vehicles take the three of you to the Spaceport, to rendezvous with callsign 'Cutter' and his vessel, the Voivode. Cephas fills the bench opposite Bardas and Restal, staring with the unblinking sapphire lenses in his helm. He is silent all the way, despite any attempts to rouse him to conversation. The Judges and Frateris have cleared the main streets as best they can, and the viewports of the riot vehicle you ride in betray very few civilians out and about.

 

Curfews have seized a lot of important sectors - ones that can be held at least.

 

The driver, one of Haldane's agents, brings the trundling carrier to a halt in a parking bay you both are familiar with, recognising the signs and icons of the spaceport close to the Templum. He puts his hands to his vox-com headset.

 

"Yes, yes, all received," he says, before turning around and leaning down into the troop hatch. "Two minutes, they're clearing out Control staff."

 

It isn't long before the carrier is on the move again, this time the walls and space vastly increasing. As the agent taxies you around, the light from the landing apron is blotted out by a great, dark shape. It is not until the ramp goes down and you disembark that you realise why.

 

The driver has parked you next to a massive craft. No shuttle this - more akin to the blocky, robust voidcraft of the Adeptus Astartes Thunderhawk, this is what Imperial nomenclature refers to as a 'gun-cutter'. Black and red painted ceramite plating clings to armoured plasteel in dark grey, the burns and soot of atmospheric re-entry marring the partially blistered paintwork. Long-barrelled autocannons sit on the flanks, and match other paired maws in the wing roots. Up front, in the drooping raptor-mace head, sit the sponsons for the twin-linked heavy bolters with which the vessel deals with threats not directly in the pilot's gunsights.

 

The front ramp is open, and the whole metal bird rests on thick pistons and broad feet of its landing gear. Cephas climbs out, to tower over you. He nods appreciatively.

 

At the side of the bird is a man wrpped in an Imperial Navy flight jacket. Thickly fleece lined and worn leather exterior, his augmetics mar a face that would be described as handsome, almost innocent. There's a hint of a cocky smile waiting to break through. He's removing arming tags from the missile racks slung beneath the blocky wings, and as he notices you, comes over.

 

"Tickets please," he says, deadpan, tucking the arming ribbons into a satchel. His accent isn't local. Standing only six feet away, his human eye is hard, with the creases of a difficult life pinching the corners.

 

He's sporting a slick, slimline stub-automatic in a chest holster which affixes to his flight belt and pilot harness underneath his flight jacket. An array of pouches and small hand tools are carefully stowed about his person.

 

The Free Market:

Nicios/Scourge/Falk/Reynard

 

The Arbites provide an armoured air transport which takes you as far as it can into the depths of the hive. From there you walk, following myriad twisting and turning passages. Some of them have collapsed, cutting off the way forward, requiring you to backtrack via your cartographs. Sloping tunnels and stairwells which once would have been traversed by legions of people are now, plunging deathtraps and dead ends - in more ways than one.

 

Fortunately, the Arbites have provided stablights and one-use emergency glow-globes, which can be thrown into an area to provide illumination. These have saved your lives on more than one occasion.

 

When you finally enter the free market through a service duct, all is carnage. Several of the rooms, or establishments, have been crushed by a few feet, some of the stanchions twisted by a inch or more, but that in the grand scheme of things is an inordinate amount. Bodies lie across the floor, perhaps only 24 hours old. Some are shot, some cut to ribbons, others crushed by loose girders or cut in half by the inexorable convulsion of the hive shifting, chopping ducts and doorways.

 

Small fires flicker, and the whole place is once more bathed in gloom - yet down here, not even the emergency lights work properly, giving the whole place a sepulchral oppression.

 

Edited March 31, 2023 by Mazer Rackham

[Machine God]

Kerr Restal:

 

During the journey to the Voivode and being silently observed by Cephas, Kerr Restal talked to Bardas. 

 

+Bar-dass+ he started. +Adept Bardas I wonder if you can help me? I believe I have been afflicted by something, by the spirits. I have noticed lately that I can see how machines work and how to fix them. Please could you help me, give me a blessing?+

 

 

 

 

[Trokair]

Bardas

 

+Afflicted?+ Bardas listened for a short while as Kerr elaborated.

 

+No, I don’t think so, Blessed is what you have been, and by the Omnissiah directly by the sounds of it. No blessing I could bestow would be worth of the honour.  In less troubled time all I could offer you would be directions to a Temple and a Magos who could teach you the spiritual and the real that is the Omnissiah’s realm.+

 

+Alas these are interesting times, and it be an act of foolishness to trust the purity of the faith that you would find in the Temples here on Damocles.+

 

+What I will do, if you think me worthy, is guide and teach you what I can, so that when your steps lead you to an actual Magos Lector you will have the foundations to truly build on your blessing.+

 

+Let’s start with some tenets, prayers and mediations to aid you in exploring your blessing.+ 

 

 

---

 

"Tickets please," the pilot demanded as they climbed out of their conveyance.

 

Patting is pockets dramatically as if looking for a ticket Bardas replied.

 

+I appear to have left them in my other coat, the one already aboard your cutter.+