[DH1e] The Damocles Contingency (RPG IC)

[Lysimachus]

Reynard:

 

"Just considering our next steps, Kerr."

 

Reynard grinned, suddenly amused by the momentary insanity that had brought him into the Shrine at all.

 

"But there are no answers to be found in this place… unless you have any great wisdom to share?"

 

[Machine God]

Kerr Restal:

 

"No, I was away in the Armoury picking up these 'fine specimens' " he answered, showing off the Carnodon's.

 

"I was just trying to gather what had been worked out whilst I was away and He sent me to you!"

 

 

 

 

[Lysimachus]

Reynard:

 

"Nice pieces. I expect you'll be glad of those recoil gloves?"

 

Briefly, Reynard sketched out the options the group had considered. As he did so out loud, his own thoughts solidified. Really, there was no option. He might prefer to go hunting, to take down Greyson and save LeCroix… but that wasn't playing to his strengths. He would be more useful to the mission, to the Hive as a whole, by joining the group that went to make the exchange with De Grassi.

 

When he finished speaking, he nodded to Restal.

 

"That actually helped. Thanks."

 

With no further words, Reynard rose and left the Shrine, heading for the Infirmary.

 

[Machine God]

Kerr Restal:

 

"That's ok, Pilgrim!" he said to Reynar's departing back.

 

He lit a votive candle and began to pray.

 

 

What are the options?

 

 

You will guard the law and the psyker. Locate the missing father.

 

 

Once commanded, he left the shrine and returned to his room. He passed via the refectory and scored a hot meal and some cold kaf.

 

In his bunk he stripped the Carnodon's down. He sang to them whilst he cleansed them of grit and got rid of the ugly tube..

 

He altered his holster rigs for the new guns, he placed his compact las-pistol in an ankle holster.

 

He got some rest.

 

[Trokair]

Bardas

 

As the Foxkin and the Voidman left the shrine Bardas picked up his goggles with his new left hand, monitoring the fine motor control circuits and tactile feedback sensors. It would take more time then he likely had to truly make these replacements his own, an extension of his body and mind and not just a programmed tool.

 

Adept Xerxia was owned thanks for the fine work she had done in such short time, and the state he had been in. His memories, both biological and those stored within the gifts, were patchy. What little he could gleam from them spoke that he should have been dead, defunct.

 

The Omnissiah had chosen to keep him functioning, had sent a Valkyrie for his soul, and the Seraph for his broken body. There was a purpose yet to be fulfilled. He had caught glimpses in the sky, on the wya out of the desert and into the Spiders tree. The golem had spun its web, a web now in tatters, but still it lurked, hiding from judgments due.  

 

Cephas had brought him back to the Deadman without delay, just as he had brought him out of the desert. Repaired in body and soul, perhaps in mind; however it was his spirit that Bardas had sought to ease following the conference. A shrine of the Adeptus Ministorum was still a shrine to the Omnissiah, albeit one the other folk. It would do he reckoned, and thus he had taken to an alcove for meditation.

 

He had not meant to eavesdrop, and in truth he had not registered their conversation until the end. Focused instead upon his meditation, they had their way forward, and he had his. Setting the goggles back in place, sight returned, he stood up, walking to stand before the dead effigy that dominated the shrine. Why did the other faithful see their god as such? He wondered yet again.

 

+++I am going to see how far the Golem’s taint has penetrated my kinfolk in their enclave; it has been far too silent from there. If any of you wish to accompany me I’ll depart the shrine momentarily.+++ With that he closed the squads vox network again, took a breath and readied himself for the task at hand.

[Mazer Rackham]

GM: Whilst I'm moving us on a bit, there's plenty of room for our players who are catching up to just drop in where they want.

 

The Panopticon (SIGINT Unit):

 

Officers and adepts talk, listen. Signals traffic being digested through headsets and aloud, for the encoding may be different depending on acoustics. These latter examinations are conducted in soundproofed booths so that hidden messages do not escape into waiting ears or devices attached to explosive surprises. It is busy. Every officer who can be spared is here, conducting as many tasks as diligence allows.

 

Proctor Haldane leads the way, taking you all into a secure room, where feeds are piped through. It is a smaller rendition of the Praefector's eyrie, just as spartan save for the rows of chunky law report books across one wall, bound in thick, rich black leather and named and numbered in gilded copperplate, the invisible rules are codified into print.

 

Haldane depresses a rune. "What have we got on that signal?"

 

"Coming through now, sir."

 

The signal is connected, playing three large blocks of numbers out onto a screen to Haldane's left. It becomes quickly apparent that these are co-ordinates within the midhive, and as Haldane's fingers access the blueprints for the area, the wirework diagrams flash into life, showing a part of the megabuilding where two superstructure ribs abut.

 

"Sector Gamma One-Seven. Shouldn't be any civilians in there," Haldane muses. "We'll deploy you in an armoured personnel carrier, to Gamma One-Eight. nearby. It's on foot from there. I'll sent a React Team to cover your extraction point."

 

The three blocks of numbers begin to change, the variables of shifting. He studies them, and his face lights up. "Ah, this is a datafeed for a tracking device."

 

Armoured Aircar 113:

 

Reynard:

 

The rendezvous comes in. The Widow's Bridge. It's a long, exposed platform raised to admit pilgrims to the Templum of Saint Iacinda from the other side of the hive. It spans a gap of some six-hundred metres, and is broad as a baneblade. Hardly used anymore, thanks to the much safer routes to the temple installed by the nobles who didn't want to share the fate of one of the first hive rulers, who was unceremoniously shoved off it by a panicking mob when the bridge was raided by brigands seeking the plunder of the wealthy.

 

Now, only those who seek desperate solitude or a grand view to pitch themselves into, venture there.

 

The armoured aircar, a troop transport by any other name, lifts off from the hangar, turning down the route for the internal corridor, and out into civilian traffic - still permitted within the hive. The arbites crew leave you alone, busying themselves with the running of the vehicle. At your feet, trapped between your ankles, is a small secure case, armoured and thickly ribbed with impact braces. Inside is the result of Dreyfuss' experiments, the serum he perhaps intended to deliver. You watched the Verispexers put it in there, and it hasn't been out of your sight since.

 

The time for the rendezvous draws close, and, after an hour in the air, the crew finally speak.

 

+We're getting a single return on the lidar. One person on the bridge, near the middle. What do you want us to do?+

 

The Con-Junction:

 

THis is the great entrance to the territory of House Tirant, and the demesnes of the Mechanicus proper. Your robes have been supplemented by a gift from Haldane, a House surcoat, in the distinctive blue-grey and offset orange and white vertical stripes of the Tirant family. A guardian seal hangs from your neck on thick chains, which will allow you to roam the lower-security Tirant areas freely.

 

For anything more, as Haldane put it, you'll need your brains.

 

There appears to be little concern to the problems of the hive without the Tirant borders - although that is much to be expected. Good quality augmetics abound here, and the humour of the mostly human enclave is certainly thickly flavoured with the oil and brass of the Opus. Censers smoking with the Vapours of Clarity, Purpise, and Dedication form a triumverate of welcome and reassuring presence of what is in effect, a grand market where common and noble hivers meet the mechanisms of the Cog, and the wheels of trade grind onward.

 

Cosmopolitan enough to blend in, and cover any further ingress by sheer melting of the pot.

 

An Adept of Tirant spots you as you enter, marks your augmetics  and amulet with a raised eyebrow and approaches.

 

"Greetings," he says as he emerges from the bustle of machinists and vendors. He stops, bows with a sign of the Cog. "I am Jonas Van Bosch. I do not recall seeing you before."

 

The smile peeks out from flesh puckered with brass-coloured augments to his cranium. Obviously he is an analogue business interface. His voice has the ring of a vocaliser implant, but otherwise he is quite the meatsack.

[A.T.]

Falk

 

No longer undercover Falk had exchanged his concealed body armour for a more practical light carapace, though still wore his familiar longcoat atop it.

 

"Let us conclude this without further delay".

 

He turned to the others, "we should seek to take one alive if we can, but take no undue risks. Our primary goal here is to remove an obstacle and Greyson will likely see it the same"

Edited May 9, 2023 by A.T.

[Lysimachus]

Reynard:

 

The great bridge made for a dramatic site for an exchange. Reynard looked out of the aircar window. The Templum side, controlled by Locke's allies. The opposite by the De Grassi family troops. He grinned. If nothing else, he could appreciate De Grassi's sense of the theatrical.

 

"Keep your distance. Land us on our side. Are the snipers I requested set up overlooking the bridge yet? I want cover in case De Grassi tries to pull anything. Have you made sure the bridge is safe? No surprises - explosives, or Spyrers - in the superstructure? Do the scanner returns suggest anything about what the person out there is carrying? Armour, weapons?"

 

As he spoke, Reynard quickly unlatched the secure container. He pulled out the vial of serum and replaced it with the vial of stimm from his injector. Visually close enough. Then he took out the sealed Ration Pack from another pocket and carefully opened one corner. Pouring half of the hard nutrient biscuits out onto the seat of the aircar beside him, he then slipped the cure into the food packet and resealed the edge.

 

As the Pack went back into a deep inner pocket, he felt around the padded lining of the bright white Medicae container.

 

"Is the tracker in here like I requested?"

 

Shell games. Bait and switch. Plans within plans.

 

 

Edited May 8, 2023 by Lysimachus

[Mazer Rackham]

Armoured Aircar 113:

 

Reynard:

 

One of the pilot officers turns in his seat. "We've got two men heading into position now. They'll shout up when they're set. No explosives or other persons on the bridge. If there's anything inside the superstructure, there's too much metal to see it."

 

The armoured aircar begins to slide over the bridge, the downpulse of the gravitic engines, pushing dust and loose debris over the side, to tumble a kilometre into darkness.

 

"The tracker should be in there, under the foam on the hinge side. Coin pulser. Squeeze it to set it going."

[Lysimachus]

Reynard:

 

After activating the tracker and checking the positions of his back-up, Reynard stepped out onto the bridge, the medi-container in one hand. His pace was gentle, he wasn't going to be seen to be rushing. It took almost five minutes to walk out the three hundred metres to the midpoint where the figure waited.

 

As he walked, he enjoyed the breathtaking view and the unusual feeling of open space around him. As Reynard neared his destination, he even started to whistle tunefully, a jaunty, travelling theme he vaguely remembered hearing somewhere from a Guardsman or Rating.

 

[Mazer Rackham]

Widow's Bridge:

 

Reynard:

 

As you waltz forward, your earpiece picks up.

 

+Eagle One, in position, tracking target.+

 

+Eagle Two, in position, covering. No weapons visible.+

 

The figure shifts from one foot to another, arms hugged into a dark blue robe, hood up, a thick scarf around face and neck. It is cold up here, and the wind is pushing a gust from below. The thermals from the hive heat sink carry across on the air current, but despite the scent of heat, the gentle warmth doesn't carry. Niether does you tune, whipped away by gusts that pull at the figure's clothes. As you get closer you can make out the size and shape.

 

What you thought might be a tall child, or stumpy spiderling, turns out to be a petite female. She drops her hood and pulls her scarf down. 

 

"Didn't expect you," Una tell you, "but you took your bloody time, I've been freezing my bottles off up here for two hours."

 

Peering at the aircar, she realises they're Judges, and does everything slowly, reaching into her pocket and holding out a small envelope.

 

+Eagle One, no weapon. Holding fire,+ the Judge confirms, professional.

 

The envelope bulges in the middle, as your hands grasp it, it feels a lot like a commbead.

[Lysimachus]

Reynard:

 

Reynard sighed.

 

"Why are you here, Una? What I gave you should have been enough to get your family off Damocles before everything locked down. You should be gone."

 

Shrugging as if to say he had done all he could do, Reynard opened the envelope and pulled out the commbead. He held it up in front of him.

 

"Lexandro," he offered as pleasantly as he could manage, "I assume that's you."

 

 

[Mazer Rackham]

Widow's Bridge:

 

Reynard:

 

Una makes a face, then describes an aircraft being followed by another, the latter shooting down the first. She points upwards. It's a roundabout way of reminding you there's a blockade on.

 

De Grassi takes long minutes to dripfeed his blue-blood into your ear. He sounds slightly out of breath.

 

"Well, well, we are in a good mood this morning. Quite the view, isn't it? You may call me Lexandro, of course. My name has such a strange, pleasant venom in your mouth as to be enjoyable, and I feel we know each other, oh so well." He offers a dark little chuckle. The type that accompanies wine whilst watching blood sport.

 

"Do forgive the charade with poor Una, but I'm attached to the girl, and she needs the money - and job security. One of my clade is staying with her family at a location in my holding. Being her employer brings certain...responsibilities."

 

A wistful sigh carries through the bead as he regains his breath.

 

"Now, where were we? Do open your mysterious box, and show dear Una what's within, won't you?"

[Lysimachus]

Reynard:

 

Reynard frowned. Idiot girl had plenty of time before the blockade started, if she'd gone when she was told. Her family really weren't his problem any more. It wasn't like he could keep on looking out for every person that crossed his path.

 

Not to mention if he didn't succeed they were all dead in less than twenty-four hours anyway, and a great many more people with them.

 

"Of course."

 

He moved across to the bridge's carved stone balustrade, and placed the box onto it. The ledge was wide enough and the case heavy enough that it couldn't be blown off by the wind… but it would be easy for him to give it a shove if it became necessary.

 

Carefully he flicked the catches and gave Una a very brief view of the interior with its foam protection nestled around the vial. Then he quickly closed it up again and turned to face her, still leaning on the balustrade with one arm resting atop the box. De Grassi was definitely here somewhere. There was nothing more important to the Spyrer than the cure now sitting on the edge of an abyss.

 

"I think that will do for now, old boy. I'm getting bored. And slightly chilly. We have other options for curing Lady Gwynne. Her sister, your 'beloved' Magda, only has one… and I'm holding it. Don't you want to save her? Now, why don't you stop hiding behind this fool girl and come talk to me face-to-face, you damned inbred coward."

 

With that, he casually lobbed the commbead over his shoulder. He didn't turn to watch it fall, but could imagine its glint arcing out and then downwards, before disappearing into the black depths. Reynard looked back at Una, addressing her with disappointed coldness.

 

"You might as well go. I'm not dealing with anyone except De Grassi. In person. Tell him what you saw and that he's got max ten minutes, as long as it takes for you to walk over there and for him to walk back out here - alone and with the anti-tox. I promise that as long as he and his friends don't try to kill me, me and mine won't try to kill him."

 

He shrugged.

 

"If not, his only hope is gone and my colleagues will do business with our other seller instead. It makes no odds to me."

 

Edited May 9, 2023 by Lysimachus

[Mazer Rackham]

Widow's Bridge:

 

Reynard:

 

Una shrugs and withdraws, a crackle of a commbead in her ear as she starts the long, lonely walk back across the bridge. She steps inside the entrance opposite yours, watched over by gargoyles.

 

Her walk takes all of three minutes. You can hear her relay your instructions, voice fading as she makes distance.

 

+Eagle Two. Got nothing. Girl took a right through the door, didn't stop, landing was clear, nobody waiting.+

 

Your chrono rolls to five minutes.

 

Nothing.

 

Just the bridge and the blow of the wind.

 

Eight minutes.

 

+Eagle One, no targets. Nothing moving out there.+

 

Ten minutes. No one comes, nothing moves. Una is gone and no-one replaces her. It's just you, and five cops overlooking an empty bridge. No-one takes a shot at you, no-one interrupts the peace and quiet. The silence is your answer.

 

 

[Lysimachus]

Reynard:

 

As his chrono hit ten minutes, Reynard reopened the container and pulled out the vial. Holding it in his hand, he shoved the box forward. It tumbled out into nothingness, case and foam separating as they fell into oblivion. He stood for a moment, thoughtfully flipping the vial in his hand. Finally, he muttered, to himself but loud enough to be heard.

 

"Then this has no value to me."

 

He pulled back his arm, ready to throw.

 

 

[Mazer Rackham]

Widow's Bridge:

 

Reynard:

 

The wind whips around you, snapping at your long coat.

 

No voices, no outbursts interrupt you. No keening shout, lamenting cry. Nothing.

 

Just the indifference of a shuffling, creaking hive bearing mute witness to a man tossing something off a bridge.

[Lysimachus]

Reynard:

 

Reynard paused. Looked around.

 

"Your loss, fool."

 

Rather than hurling the vial, he simply dropped it on the ground and raised his boot over it. Smashing it down he crushed the cylinder. Then he drew his laspistol and fired several shots into the liquid that was pooling atop the bridge surface, immolating it and scattering its constituent atoms beyond reformation or identification. Then he turned to walk away, shoving his hands in his pockets and hunching down against the cold.

 

Keep the con going. Keep it going! He must be here somewhere!

 

As he walked, Reynard flicked his commbead, not connecting to any channels, but there was no way De Grassi could know that. He spoke into the empty mic.

 

"Reynard to Locke. If you really need Gwynne alive, you might have to make a temporary arrangement with Galleus. De Grassi wouldn't deal, didn't even bother showing up himself. Her cure is burned, it didn't have any value left we could use. Magda Aldario is dead. I guess 'Lexandro De Grassi' didn't really care about her after all, right?"

 

Edited May 9, 2023 by Lysimachus

[Mazer Rackham]

Widow's Bridge:

 

Reynard:

 

+Lander One, Adept! Are you alright?+ It's one of the pilot crewmen inside the armoured aircar. +Is there a threat nearby? Do you need assistance?+

 

There a switchback in comms as your behaviour prompts confusion among the team.

 

+Eagle One, this is Eagle Two. Shots fired by Adept - I've got nothing! You have anything?+

 

+This is One. negative. Scopes are clean. Lander One secure the Adept, don't know what he's shooting at. We'll cover!+

 

One of the crewmen gets ready to leap from the back of the armoured car, with shotgun drawn.

[Lysimachus]

Spoiler

OOC: I'm deeply concerned by the skill level of the snipers assigned to watch over Reynard here... he's out in the open on the bridge, literally nothing has happened for 10 minutes straight, how has one or the other not seen and understood what he was doing? Or at least that he was just standing there shooting into the deck? 

 

Reynard:

 

Reynard groaned and quickly switched to the Arbitrator's squad channel.

 

"Easy, gentlemen. Just burning some rubbish. Eagle 1 and 2, were you taking a nap or something? Stay alert, officers. I'm on my way to you."

 

 

[Mazer Rackham]

GM: OOC, I know, but there's only so many times a man can write "eerie silence, or o0o00o0 it's the wind, without it being boring....

 

Widow's Bridge:

 

Reynard:

 

+Snipers, dismount and rendezvous at the aircar with the Adept,+ one of the pilots says, drily.

 

The armoured car hovers into position broadside across the bridge for easy boarding.

[Lysimachus]

Reynard:

 

As he approached the waiting aircar, Reynard paused. The whole thing was off. The whole damn thing. It felt like a set up, but he couldn't see the shape of it.

 

He didn't climb aboard immediately, but stood waiting for the two snipers to join them, uncomfortably watching their surroundings and reflexively shifting his weapons around under his coat.

 

[Mazer Rackham]

Widow's Bridge:

 

Reynard:

 

The snipers hurry to the car, and one covers the other as he clambers in, then his partner follows. They both cover you from the door, waiting for you to get in.

[Lysimachus]

Reynard:

 

With a sigh and a half shrug, hands still in his pockets, Reynard climbed aboard and moved to the seat in the troop compartment he'd sat in before. He wondered how Locke would take the news.

 

 

[Trokair]

Bardas

 

Bardas took a long moment looking over Jonas Van Bosh. When he had still been a fare distance from the holding of House Tirant and the Martian enclave he had set his voice to broadcast at the lowest level cants and bits of scripture from the teachings of the Omnissiah. An ungifted person might just hear the binary rhythm of the broadcast at the end of their hearing, if the hive was ever quiet enough. A recipient of the priesthood gift should be more likely to hear it, but only clearly if they were close by.

 

While he already knew all that his voices autobroadcast chirped it was a gentle reminder of his lesson, a comfort and a reminder after the time under desert sky. He hoped it would also aid his cover, and perhaps from their reaction reveal which people around him could hear the binary, and even understand.

 

Reaching into his pocket he withdrew the little spherical speaker that was his voice, still quietly but less muffled then it had been. Then bowing in return he let it speak at normal conversational volume, layered on top of the devotional autobroadcast.  

 

+ 01000111 01110010 01100101 01100101 01110100 01101001 01101110 01100111 01110011 00100000 01001010 01101111 01101110 01100001 01110011 00100000 01010110 01100001 01101110 00100000 01000010 01101111 01110011 01100011 01101000 00101100 00100000 01001001 00100000 01101000 01100001 01110110 01100101 00100000 01101110 01101111 01110100 00100000 01110100 01110010 01101111 01100100 01100100 01100101 01101110 00100000 01110100 01101000 01100101 01110011 01100101 00100000 01100010 01101100 01100101 01110011 01110011 01100101 01100100 00100000 01101100 01100101 01110110 01100101 01101100 01110011 00100000 01110011 01101001 01101110 01100011 01100101 00100000 01001001 00100000 01101010 01101111 01110101 01110010 01101110 01100101 01111001 01100101 01100100 00100000 01110100 01101000 01110010 01101111 01110101 01100111 01101000 00100000 01110100 01101000 01100101 00100000 01100100 01100101 01110011 01100101 01110010 01110100 00101110 00100000 01001101 01100001 01111001 00100000 01110100 01101000 01100101 00100000 01100010 01101100 01100101 01110011 01110011 01101001 01101110 01100111 00100000 01101111 01100110 00100000 01001101 01100001 01110010 01110011 00100000 01100010 01100101 00100000 01110111 01101001 01110100 01101000 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 00101110 00100000+

 

With a smile and nod as the burst of binary came to an end he gestured in the genera direction of the Adeptus Mechanicus enclave with the tip of his staff.