[DH1e] The Damocles Contingency (RPG IC)

[Lysimachus]

Reynard:

 

With a grimace, Reynard watched the flag undulate in the breeze. A gas attack of some sort? With his free hand, he reached under his coat and drew out his own rebreather, quickly settling it into place over his face.

 

Or was there something else going on? His other hand didn't waver from his target, but his eyes were everywhere, trying to discern what manner of sleight of hand might be being played on them.

 

Spoiler

Awareness Test
Per28 +10(Awareness+10) +10(HS:Sight) -10(Difficult) = 38, Roll: 15, 2DoS

 

 

 

Edited April 23, 2023 by Lysimachus

[Mazer Rackham]

The Gallows:

 

Reynard/Falk:

 

A quick glint of light pings off a scope glass from further into the building as a weapon is raised, when the flag stills. It flutters again, and the glint of light vanishes.

 

The man sent by the duty officer reaches the party protecting Lady Gwynne, and they begin to turn around, hustle back towards the command centre.

 

Valkyrie 212:

 

Solomon:

 

The Valkyrie moves at breakneck speed, skimming hab blocks and mixing with other traffic as it plummets. The bird responds well, and with your operation of the secondary systems, it frees Cutter to duck, dive and push the throttle to almost stalling point as he brings the aircraft onto vector. The HUD reports you are nearing your target. This continues for an hour before your comms channel opens, and the Arbites temporary base in the Gallows comes into visual.

 

+Virtue callsigns, this is Cutter. Bring out your dead, your chariot awaits!+

[Lysimachus]

Reynard:

 

Reynard saw the sudden, momentary glare of light from within the tower.

 

"Got a scope flash, think our shooter is trying to line up a shot! Scourge, keep covering the asset! Cutter, don't land! We have a potential sniper in the comms tower, can you see anything from up there?"

 

He paused, addressing the team.

 

"If I get anything close to a shot from here, do I take it?"

 

Edited April 23, 2023 by Lysimachus

[Machine God]

Kerr Restal:

 

Kerr Restal read his Penthrift Dreadful as he fell into sleep.

 

A curious tale where one chose the subjects actions and the Story changed. 

 

A needle rifle task versus a Machine-Heretic and her enthralled entourage. 

 

He decided to check for windage, then turned to page 325.

 

Through annoyed sleepy eyes he noticed that page 325 was missing. 

 

Sleep took him and he dreamt... 

 

 

 

[Mazer Rackham]

Kerr Restal:

 

The book is snapped shut as there is a knock at the door to your cell.

 

"Restal?" Haldane.

[A.T.]

Falk

 

A lot of cross traffic, the situation was becoming confused and this was not to their advantage, "Scourge hold, Cutter dust up"

 

With no signal from the auger he pushed hard against the door with the stock of his shotgun keeping his body beyond the frame and hopefully clear of any blast. No more delays.

[Necronaut]

Scourge:

 

Scourge knew he did not fit in with the rest of the Arbites procession, and so when the comm bead crackled in his ear he attempted to show no physical reaction. Their foes were still on the hunt, it seemed. He suddenly felt quite exposed despite being in heavy armour, and his eyes flicked over momentarily to the woman in the group ahead of him that he knew to be Gwynne in disguise. 

 

+None shall reach Lady Gwynne whilst I draw breath, Falk,+ he responded over the secure channel. But that said nothing of a long range assault. He checked his boltgun and grasped the pistol-grip. 

 

He was reminded briefly of a childhood memory hunting with his father, watching a herd of deer descended from one of the Terran strains brought to hid homeworld untold millennia in the distant past, when mankind first sailed the stars in their great colony-arks, if the legends were to be believed. He and his father were prone on the edge of a small ridge overlooking the animals. They had been tracking them for three days, and had managed to creep close enough that a bowshot would be child's play, but they waited. He was ten summers old. Eventually a great stag separated from the thick of the group and Scourge readied his bow, but his father bade him wait. Their quarry was a younger male, who was mixed in with the others. As magnificent of a prize as the larger buck would be, they still had to trek home and carry the great beast by themselves.

 

He scanned back and forth across the sea of heads as further news was relayed to him. A sniper in the guard tower?! He subtly shifted his position in the group, pushing others aside as he attempted to block a potential firing vector with his armoured bulk.

 

But successful hunters didn't always work alone. Was the sniper a distraction or insurance? Were there more of them? Was there one planted in the group with Lady Gwynne? 

 

 

Perception Test: 36 -10 = 26

Perception: 1d100 4: success, 2 DoS

Edited April 23, 2023 by Necronaut

[Trokair]

Meanwhile, some hours ago, and far far away...

 

+It seems that you can have your meeting after all, my friend. Do you want me to accompany you?+

 

+No thank you Kerr, I can handle this+ he replied, gesturing towards Aydam Khosh, Bardas added +I have much to discuss with him, and it would be better if one of us always has eyes on the Deadman’s chests.+

 

Approaching the Hetman and his attending guards Bardas slowed a little before calling out.

 

+ Aydam Khosh, greetings in the name of the Omnissiah. My companion tells me that you may have information I seek. These D’regs that you had tracked from the mountains, what do you know of them, for they may well number amongst their lot those that defiled my home, my Duty.+

[Mazer Rackham]

The Gallows:

 

Solomon:

 

The call cuts across the commbeads of the Inquisition Cell. +Falk, roger,+ Cutter replies, tight and slick. The Valkyrie comes down quickly, nose flaring sharply to bleed off speed. He throws the VTOL jets into life and kicks up grit and a localised whirlwind. The flag batters madly, flipping and flexing in all directions as the circular downdraught catches it.

 

Cutter leans back to Solomon. "I'll bring the port door around for the VIP, going to block to starboard: remember - the Cell is expendable, the Asset is not. Be a gentlemen, and get the door for the lady?"

 

Falk:

 

As you go through the door, the augurman nods, giving hand sign for all clear. There is a lingering wisp in the air, a faint yellow colour of some kind of toxin. the auspex chirps, and the sensor operative mumbles into his vox-bead though the respirator. +Suppression Gas. It's thinning. Best to keep your face on, though.+

 

GM: With the door and windows open, the gas will have reduced to levels where a Toughness Test is not required - as long as you have some kind of protective equipment.

 

There are no tripwires, or nasty surprises as you carefully mount the stairs, btu you do pass the fallen, lumpen forms of Arbites personnel. They appear to be alive, their breathing shallow, but they are incapacitated.

 

Three floors to the top.

 

As you come in a figure moves, head poking over the landing. +Company! Shoot for  sake!+

 

There's the sound of something being hurriedly shifted - then a clang as something blocky starts being pushed over the top railing. It looks like a Officio Arbities M36 pattern, reinforced desk.

 

Scourge/Reynard:

 

A shuffle in the crowd. A menial in coveralls and safety helmet fights against the downdraft. Arbites or Navy pilot, he's carrying a needle pistol, although he's trying to hide it with his body. He is being held back by other menials and construction workers, who help to build sites like this, but he's very definitely looking at the Verispex entourage, and not marvelling at the Valkyrie kicking up hell and half of Damocles.

[Mazer Rackham]

The Wreck of the Gladius:

 

Bardas:

 

"Hail, Enginesage." Khosh bows in greeting, his retainers following suit. "Your swordmonger told me you were here. Yes, I know of these D'reg. Mutants and thieves, poisoned by the Emperor's wrath. Their group split many days ago, some came here, which was our priority."

 

He stares off into the mountains. "The rest linger in the Attillan Kush. We go there once your transport flies."

 

Khosh takes you elbow. "You may ride in one of our vehicles, should it please you."

[Machine God]

Kerr Restal:

 

There was a knock at the door.

 

"Restal?" Haldane.

 

Instantly he awoke, leapt out of bed and into action. He disarmed his trip wires and ...

 

 

He chose to go to page 225. "What's the Password?" He asked.

 

 

Luckily he'd got some quality rest on the Voivode.

 

 

 

[Necronaut]

Scourge:

 

The snake in the rushes, indeed. God-Emperor be praised! 

 

+Falk, Reynard, our enemy hath revealed himself to me. Naval menial, laborer's garb and helm, bearing a needle pistol, in the crowd of commoners. He swimmeth 'gainst the current. I can apprehend the villain if the marksman ist dealt with.+

 

Scourge moved closer to Gwynne, placing his mass of ceramite and steel mere paces behind his charge, and set his sights upon the man in the coveralls, prepared to shove Gwynne down and close with the would-be assassin. 

 

 

Readied Action: charge attack vs naval menial (unsure about distance) if Reynard & Falk can handle the sniper in the comms tower

Edited April 23, 2023 by Necronaut

[Mazer Rackham]

Restal:

 

Haldane lets out a very pained sigh. "Get out of your pit, Locke has a job for you. Next time, I'm sending Cephas."

 

His footsteps fade as he leaves, but you can imagine him shaking his head at the same time.

Edited April 23, 2023 by Mazer Rackham

[A.T.]

Falk

 

"Go go go!", Clear run to the top, Falk quickly slipped an inferno shell into the breach of his shotgun and fired in the direction of the teetering desk, the incendiary shell a signal for the rush.

[Machine God]

Kerr Restal:

 

With his hunters perception he heard Haldane let out a very pained sigh. "Get out of your pit, Locke has a job for you. Next time, I'm sending Cephas."

 

Then about face Haldane stomped off, obviously seething at being relegated to messenger boy.

 

He retrieved his tripwires and pocketed the dreadful, he'd ask Cutter about the missing page later. He set off on to see the Inquisitor.

 

 

He ghosted through the Halls of Justice, he passed the range and the refectory. An automatic pistol mag and a jagga fruit the richer, he presented himself.

 

"Inquisitor Locke, reporting as requested!"

 

 

 

[Lysimachus]

Reynard:

 

As Falk's team went in, Reynard's focus narrowed on the window. Scourge could handle the infiltrator with the pocket needler.

 

His grip on his pistol tightened. If the sniper was going to attempt a shot, it would have to be now… but the east armaglas window was still shut?

[Mazer Rackham]

The Gallows:

 

Falk:

 

The man at the top of the stairs yelps as the blossom of flame nearly incinerates him. Instead of pushing the desk over, you can hear the click-cling of pins being pulled, and the levers flying off hand grenades.

 

+Alright you bastards, have this!+

 

The next sounds are the deadly bounce of the potential explosives as they clatter down to the landing you are just about to gain, where they explode, deploying the lethal fragmenting cargo.

 

Reynard:

 

Your patient vigil is rewarded as the window cranks open, and the muzzle of the needle rifle braces on the windowsill. The Valkyrie is just shy of the landing pad, and interposing its bulk between the tower and Gwynne.

 

GM: This will count as a Small Target, so (-20) to Hit.

 

Scourge:

 

The assassin shoves aside another worker, casting the woman to the ground, before he braces, feet planted apart, elbows locked. A moment before he pulls the trigger, you realise the man is trained. He fires.

 

GM: Agility Test to interpose yourself. I'll hold off on Solomon to allow catch-up.

 

The Halls of Judgement:

 

Locke greets you. "Ah, Mr Restal. I have a name for you. Lupus Mulk. He's a Technician Third Class in the Spaceport terminal. I believe he's a rat in our nest. Plant this tracker on him," the Inquisitor says, nodding to Haldane.

 

The Spymaster hands across the tiny device, no bigger than a copper imperial.

 

"We need to find where he's transmitting from, and to whom. Don't slit his throat, yet. He can be found a few blocks from here, I believe he's into wrestling."

 

Locke passes a dataslate across the table, with the details of the Mark.

• 5'10,
• Rangy build
• Brown hair
• Brown eyes
• 28 years old
• Left-handed
• Cluster of three moles under left eye
• Last known location: The Upper Hive Sporting Arena.

"Can I trust this to you?" Locke says.

Edited April 23, 2023 by Mazer Rackham

[Lysimachus]

Reynard:

 

There you are.

 

Reynard moved his other hand to steady his aim. Just a few millimetres up and beyond the barrel… right... about... there.

 

He fired.

 

 

Spoiler

Single Shot
BS41 +10(RDS) +20(Full Aim) +10(Accurate Aim) +10(Short Range) -20(Small Target) = 71, Roll: 68, Hit!
Hmm, can I choose to use (my last) FP to reroll a successful roll? Would really quite like to fish for some DoS for extra Dam…?
Assuming it is possible:
Reroll: 21, Hit with 5DoS! 
Dam 1d10+4 +2d10(Accurate) Pen4 Tearing
4, 10(!), 3, 8 = 22
RF roll: 57, Success! Extra d10: 6
Total Dam: 28 Pen4

 

Not bad at all...

 

 

[Machine God]

Kerr Restal, the Halls of Justice:

 

"Certainly, I will endeavour to carry out this task. It is still a hunt, I shall count coup upon Lupus Mulk," answered Kerr Restal.

 

He took mental note of his Mark's description and pocketing the tracker he left the room, on the hunt.

 

He left his Las-carbine in his room, he needed to be stealthy. 

 

Exiting the Halls of Judgement via an ancient rat hole, he emerged later up on to street level and headed in the direction he'd been informed where Mulk dwelt.

 

He approached a group of men shooting dice against a streetwall.

 

Trying not to block their light, he started a conversation.

 

"Excuse me gents, I'm looking to make a wager. I heard that Upper Hive Sporting Arena was around here? Watch those dice."

 

 

 

 

FEL 25 -5 (Ill-Omened) = 20. Result: 07, Pass 1DoS

 

 

 

 

Edited April 24, 2023 by Machine God
Didn't notice Arena location

[Marshal Valkenhayn]

Valkyrie 212:

"You are heard." comes the blunt, grim response to Cutter's orders, Solomon rising from the copilot's throne. 

Comm-Bead patching him through to Cell-Comms via the Valkyrie's network, the black and maroon warrior listens to the chatter as he strides back along the Valkyrie's deck, boots clanging  and helmet hissing as he toggles its vents closed. A rolling shrug of his shoulder claps his combat shotgun into hand, action feeding the first shell into the chamber with a well-oiled 'clickCHNK.'

"We are ready to receive." 

Solomon's unfamiliar voice cuts through the Cell's chatter like a funeral bell, the Breacher SGT rotating the bolt on the starboard hatch and applying a bit of muscle to send the bay door grinding aside. Shotgun held in one hand, he barrels out into the whirling grit and noise, boots crunching heavily upon the landing pad and green lenses scanning the madness.

Taking his weapon in both hands, he steps aside from the open door and waits, ready to assist the VIP into the relative safety of the craft, or else brutally murder anyone who tries to stop that from happening. 

Unfortunately, there is still a lot he doesn't know. Chief among that information being the appearance of his fellow Cell members. And so, after the briefest of pauses, he adds bluntly.

"Anyone other than the lady should Identify themselves on approach, or they will be shot."

[Necronaut]

Scourge:

 

Noticing the gunman assuming a firing stance, Scourge sought to interpose himself, but somehow Lady Gwynne had become separated from him due to some jostling within the ranks of Verispex attendants. When he reached up to grab her shoulder, he instead laid his hand upon another. He realised his error too late. 

 

"Lady Gwynne? No–!" 

 

His confusion and miscalculation caused him to stumble forward and plough into the Arbites personnel, knocking them hither and thither.

 

 

Agility Test: 42

Agility Test: 1d100 100: critical failure; all of the DoF (5 DoF in total)

RIP Lady Gwynne :(

 

Edited April 23, 2023 by Necronaut

[Trokair]

Bardas

 

He half bowed in return, it was only polite.

 

+ I am honoured to ride with Khamsin Brotherhood for a while, how far to the Attilan Kush?+

[Mazer Rackham]

The Wreck:

 

The Voivode lifts away carrying Restal and the precious cargo within. Without ceremony, it blasts into the murky fug of sulphuric poison and is soon gone.

 

"They must be late for a funeral," Khosh mutters. "The distance doesn't matter, honoured friend. When travelling in the desert, one feels like they are standing still. Only the time matters. It shall take a couple of hours. Then we must track the D'reg to whatever stone they lay under."

 

The engines fire as Khosh signals to move out, and a Khamsin Rider directs you to the left seat - a crash-couch saddle beside him on the right-hand drive vehicle. "We go very fast," he instructs, grinning. "If want to be sick - turn head left."

 

The Tauros dips as another brother climbs on the back and tests the pivot of the grenade launcher. "You like?" he calls down, patting the big launcher. "Is named Shenzi."

 

Aydam Khosh stands in his seat, and waves his hand forward with a savage cry, and the Khamsin Brotherhood set off to scour the desert once more, a whirlwind storm of brimming violence.

Edited April 23, 2023 by Mazer Rackham

[Mazer Rackham]

The Gallows:

 

For a dreadful moment, the world, and everything in it slows to a crawl, a brutal clarity lent by the sluggish burst. Scourge's plaintive cry drags out to a baleful shout, a denial of fate which seems to fill your ears, even as the thunder of Valkyrie engines makes everyone tremble. The grim visage of the navy breacher seeks avenue to intervene, but there is none.

 

Scourge blunders forward, trapped by invisible chains of fate, too slow, too slow. Grit and debris kick up in a swirling wash of yellowed dust. The needle shards from a professional spray into silver glimmer, even as Reynard's shot turns someone's head into a Jarramelon, rapidly expanding to burst in a bloody slick, spitting out over the sill, to fall with the toppling rifle. Screaming shrapnel smacks and careens around Falk's head as he ducks, and the blind face, framed by silver hair turns to look at the Valkyrie, her mouth open in a silent scream.

 

As the needle rifle tumbles to the deck.

 

And time reasserts itself - punishing, cruel.

 

Assassin: SAB at Gwynne

Spoiler

BS: HIT, HIT.

 

Gwynne Reaction: Dodge (She is aware of him)

Spoiler

AG: PASS, No DoS

1 Hit, Left Arm

Dam: 4, Toxic

TGH: FAIL.

 

The flock of attendants flee as the Arbitrators try to respond to the threat. The sliver of crystalline rips Gwynne's arm open, and the skin almost immediately blackens, peeling back from the kiss of a virulent toxin.

 

She drops to her knees as the assassin is cut down by vicious shotgun, laspistol and stubgun fire, but the damage is done. She reaches out for Scourge, unable to breathe to scream or call for him.

 

She falls to the ground.

[Lysimachus]

Reynard:

 

Gotcha.

 

"Sniper is down, sniper is down."

 

Reynard announced it with a momentary glow of pleasure. Then he looked over towards Scourge and Gwynne. What the had just happened?! He started to run, even as the assassin was blasted away by a multitude of weapons. Too late.

 

", she's hit! Needler. Tox wound. Scourge, get the hell up, help me get her on board the Valkyrie! Where is Nicios? She needs medical attention!"