[DH1e] The Damocles Contingency (RPG IC)

[Mazer Rackham]

The Con-Junction:

 

Bardas:

 

Von Bosch smiles, obviously gifted with being able to hear Techna Lingua, if unable to speak it. "My pardon, my flesh mouth is not as Cog-Wed as yours, Adept. The halls will be much as you remember, with many certified and licensed components."

 

Noticing your gesture, he bows again. "Of course. May the Opus Provide."

 

He steps aside to allow you past.

 

The market, conjoined to the will and codicils of the Machine Cult is busy. Caring not for the squabbling of the fleshbags above. And why not? The Omnissiah is indispensable, utterly necessary. You are reminded by this at every turn, your litanies and hymnals are joined by harmonic reprises as you near the Templum Opus door, unguarded by any sentries.

 

The broad face of the Omnissiah is warning enough for the semi-mystical belief of the heaving masses of flesh.

 

And who needs such flesh? All is Machine, All is Strong. All is the Will of Mars.

 

As you step to the mighty door, it buzzes at you in binharic, a notification of curt courtesy, as the lenses set into the skull scan your amulet, and release the maglocks so that you may enter.

 

 

[Lysimachus]

Reynard:

 

As he waited for the aircar to lift off, Reynard brooded, still subconsciously playing with the various objects held in his pockets. Had he mishandled the job?

 

He didn't think so. They were negotiating from a position of strength - they had two potential options, De Grassi had only one - so there was no way he would have let the noble dictate the terms of the trade. Surely De Grassi wouldn't have expected anything other than how Reynard responded?

 

And he didn't believe for a second that the Spyrer would have actually given the anti-tox to bloody Una. Hand over the only bargaining chip he had, that might gain him what he really wanted, to someone he had personally seen to be so patently unreliable? Absurd.

 

But then to just call off the whole thing? If he was as obsessed with - 'in love with', ha! - Magda Aldario as had been suggested, there was no way he wouldn't have been there in person? Or that he wouldn't have acted when Reynard burned the vial?

 

Maybe he just really didn't care as much as they had thought he did? Poor intel, in that case. Or maybe he was just playing games again, for the sick fun of it? Maybe he didn't even have a cure for Gwynne, but just wanted to waste what little time any of them had left, run the clock down a little further? That kind of infantile pettiness Reynard could believe of the man.

 

Either way, it was done. He'd have to go back to Locke and tell him that he'd failed, the job was a bust. He wasn't looking forward to that, but it was best to get it over with. In person, though. He didn't trust something like that over the vox. He looked up, nodded to the driver.

 

"Get us back to the Halls of Judgement, as quickly as possible."

 

 

Edited May 10, 2023 by Lysimachus

[Mazer Rackham]

GM: I haven't seen any more responses from the Heavy Mob going with Falk, so I'll move them on now.

 

Grey 017:

 

The armoured transport rumbles to a halt, a safe distance away from the target zone. The React Team piles out first, experienced men and women with Arbites gear, augmented by heavy shotguns like Falk's immense-bore cannon. One carries a slender marksman rifle, and she quickly spots and clambers up a ladder leading to a gantry overlooking the drop site. With her overwatch being set up, the others fan out to secure the location.

 

The Repressor-analogue vehicle treads a few paces back, moving to lay up in the deep shadows projected by a monolithic stanchion that could possbily run all the way up the hive's spine. The Magistrate in charge of your support team turns to Falk, keeps his voice low.

 

"The next sector is through a few passages that way," he points to his three-o'clock, where a service tunnel penetrates a bulkhead five-hundred metres square, thickly rivetted and rebutted with plasteel bonding studs and armaplas cross-buttresses. The tunnel itself is big enough to fit the Rhino-style vehicle through, and is lit only by navilume strips in the corners, a pale self-sustaining glowstrip intended to preserve a person's night vision.

 

On the left side of the tunnel, the navilumes carry an arrowhead leading deeper inside, on the right, they point the way out.

 

"Be careful in there," the Magistrate continues, "the wall density knocks transmissions to almost no range at all. We'll deploy a vox-booster relay from the transport to keep in touch. Don't count on anything beyond, though."

 

He holds a chunky device up, and unwraps the cover. It is similar to an Auspex, but appears more complicated. Arbites officers would recognise this as a augur-prosecutor, used mainly to locate the small units within executioner shells if the target has survived. He offers it to the group. "Which one of you wants the pleasure?"

[A.T.]

Falk:

 

A final check of his shotgun, no incendiary this time but instead the same stun rounds that had been used earlier against the assassins. "Comms dark unless we have an emergency, they have a vox thief. Use pre-designated phrases."

 

No way of knowing what or who the signal tracked, but one way to find out. He motioned the officer towards Kerr Restal, the best equipped amongst them to use the device effectively and if neede discreetly.

[Mazer Rackham]

Grey 017:

 

The React Team commander hands off the device to the heavily armed killer.

"Understood. Throne watch over you and your command, Magistrate."

 

The officer gives a respectful nod to the group, and retires to the Repressor to co-ordinate his small detail.

[Machine God]

Kerr Restal:

 

The team were stood outside the bulkhead where they meant to move through.

 

When the Arbites Enginseer proffered the Auspex to the team, Falc motioned to Kerr Restal to carry it.

 

 

Kerr Restal examined the device, a scanner housed in heavy flak casing with rubberised edges. A hefty deivce that he surmised could come in handy as a club if all else failed him.

 

Fortunately the device came with a thick leather carrying strap and its clips were compatible with his drop harness. Kerr Restal tried and tested carriage positions until finally he was happy.

 

 

INT 33 +20 (Auspex) = 53. Result: 69, Fail 1DoF

 

 

 

Moving closer to the entrance he activated the auspex and waited for the scan data to accumulate into a map on the screen.

 

 

 

[Mazer Rackham]

Grey 017:

 

The prosecution-augur picks up the signal on passive scan. The readout lights up in low-light red. The tunnel continues for at least fifty metres, then makes several turns. The walls and passages are painted faintly in green wireframe. the signal is good, the co-ordinates carried on the screen confirm the signal is mobile, moving around in a pattern. The maw of the tunnel opens up, but other than general metal construction and torsion settling and trembling as the hive moves and bears the great weight, nothing stirs in the gloom beyond.

 

GM: From here on out, you will require a Routine (+10) Tech Use Test, per post, to maintain orientation. Narrative Movement is a little steadier than Structured Movement, so it might take you a few posts if you are continually moving. It may be wise to Test, then Narrate direction creatively. You may Test Perception normally (Sight Tests are Difficult (-10) due to the ambient glow of the navilumes).

 

Special equipment is unaffected.

 

The Upper Mechanicum Wards:

 

Bardas:

 

Machine Cultists walk their allotted paths to their allotted tasks. Paying you no heed. You are merely one of many, a cog within the machine. Your amulet is repeated in the walls, and around the necks of several brethren, and it becomes easy to see how one might be acquired, and the concomitant level of security here. After long minutes of wandering you can see the fabricators are making the usual hive materials, rivets, bolts, electrical panels.

 

The Machine never sleeps. And why should it? The Great Work Continues! The Opus Delivers! All Hail The Omnissiah!

 

The commune of machinewrights and enginseers appear to be going about their daily business, until your occuli spot a scrap bin with plastek and flexsteel offcuts. That is not made on this level - you have been around the circuit and neither seen nor smelled the stink of fabrication of these items. Ordinarily, it means nothing, but as you stop to peer into the bin, amongst the broken drill bits and cracked components, you can see something white, pearly.

 

It appears to be a human tooth, and beside it, the remains of a torn finger.

 

Casting a quick glance at the bay it is deposited in, you realise there are twenty cartons like this - scheduled for disposal, according to the workstation's datapad.

 

[Lord_Ikka]

Nicios

Walking behind Falk and Restal, Nicios steadied his mind for the possible fight ahead. 

 

Spoiler

Manifest Psychic Power (Resist Possession)

Threshold - 6

Roll - 5 + 5(WPB) + 1(Power Well) = 11  *Even though I auto-pass with my WPB and Power Well Talent, I think I have to roll to give the chance for Phenomena?*

Result = Pass, any time in the next hour target can re-roll a failed Test to resist Possession by a daemon

 

Edited May 12, 2023 by Lord_Ikka

[Necronaut]

Scourge:

 

As the troop transport rumbled down the hive streets, Scourge pulled individual bolt shells from a packet and carefully pressed them into the half-empty magazine. His accumulated wealth had been quickly transformed into steel, adamantium, fyceline and promethium. Mounted to the underside of the bolter's chassis now was a single-use flamethrower, with another besides safely stowed out of the way on his person. The Arbites armourer had fashioned a mounting rack to allow for the incendiary canisters to be easily attached and discarded in the heat of battle. Satisfied with his work, he rammed the magazine home with a satisfying click and waited, staring down at the boltgun's casing before closing his eyes for a time. 

 

He now wore his tattered cloak over the scarred suit of power armor, not out of some insane desire to disguise himself, but rather to keep something else familiar about his person. His battered suit of flak-and-chain lay folded and out of sight along with his wooden haften lasgun back at the base. Unfortunately they served no purpose with his new panoply, such as it was. 

 

The face of the wife he had taken on the feral world, long dead now, came to him unbidden, and he shed a tear for her memory, unseen by his compatriots as his helm hid his scruffy face and shame. He felt he would be joining her soon, one way or another.

 

+++

 

When the armored transport came to a halt, he was the first of the acolytes out, and took up a point position, peering into the unnatural gloom of the hive. He reached into his belt pouch and produced a pair of newly acquired filter pkugs which he unceremoniously thumbed into his nostrils as he lifted his sallet. He mumbled a prayer of protection to the God-Emperor and dropped the steel helm back in place, securing the chin strap.

 

"I hath the van, Falk."

 

He nodded to his companions and fearlessly thudded forward into the murk, his hands wrapped around the boltgun and head on a swivel. 

Edited May 12, 2023 by Necronaut

[Mazer Rackham]

GM: @Lord_Ikka Yes, that's my reading. Even though you pass automatically, you should roll to check Perils.

[A.T.]

Falk:

 

"Easy Scourge, we do not know the nature of what we will find here. This is not yet an assault."

 

He looked towards Restal as the group advanced hoping the auspex would give some insight as to their destination. Any other day a task such as this would have seen servo skulls or cyber-beasts scouting ahead of the rest but such things were too uncertain given their foe.

[Machine God]

Kerr Restal:

 

From behind there was an audible clunk as Scourge exited the transport.

 

Also there was audible communication from him and to him by Falk. So much for radio silence.

 

Kerr Restal turned towards them. He pointed with his forefinger and index finger of his right hand to his eyes and then pointed with the blade of his hand at Scourge and Falk both. He then made a talking hand sign, a cut across his throat and brought his right forefinger up in front of his mouthpiece!

 

Vox silence meant vocal silence too. Amateurs.

 

 

Turning back, he advanced to the opening and re-scanned.

 

 

 

 

INT 33 +0 (Tech Use) +20 (Auspex) +10 (Routine Difficulty) = 63. Result: 30, Pass 3DoS

 

 

 

He gave the signal to advance, as he stepped through into the tunnel system.

 

 

 

Edited May 12, 2023 by Machine God
Typo

[Trokair]

Bardas

 

With the inquisitive Jonas Van Bosch left behind, perhaps he had been just what he appeared, and not eyes and ears for anybody else, but still it was better to move around unscrutinised as far as possible.  

 

Pausing before he stepped over the threshold Bardas recited a short prey of guidance. The amulet had bee nacepted, for now any passive monitoring by security spirits will treat him as just another in the countless of House Tirant or faithful cogger.

 

From what he had observed so far business was going on as usual in this part of the hive. This veneer of normality was at odds with the Hive of the last few days, but was the cause Martian independence from the rest of the Omnissiah’s domain, or was it the Golem keeping his stronghold functional.

 

Stepping through portal door into enclave proper he made his way along the side of the paths, keeping out of the ordered flow of labour and resources. Getting in the way of the preordained work plans would be noticed, even just the few steps it would take for a work party to walk around him if he had stood in their path.

 

If these had been servitors at the end of their life, or the remains of an accident then they would have been disposed and reclaimed accordingly, but to dump them as waste, that was not amongst the normal order of business. A crack in the veneer, but was it one that would lead anywhere, or just aimless tunnels for white uniformed cuniculus with chronometers.

 

Was anybody watching the bins, had he been spotted, Bardas had the feeling that he had not been carful enough, looking around as carefully as he could without drawing attention, just in case he had not yet been, Bardas considered the crowd, the workers, the buildings and workshops around him.

 

Spoiler

Awareness Test

Per: 34

D100: 68, Fail, 3DoF – let’s hope his Paranoia was unfounded this time.

 

Edited May 12, 2023 by Trokair

[Mazer Rackham]

The Upper Wards:

 

Bardas:

 

As you surreptitiously scope the situation, you do not detect anyone paying more attention to you other than for navigation.

 

A float of two servo-skulls flit past without pause.

 

Grey 017:

 

Restal keeps you all on track as you move forward, taking a left first, then proceeding down a utility passage. On each side, the navilumes keep you company, marching steadily for several minutes. The tunnels branch again, left and right from here. The air continues to be slightly cool, but it is dry, carrying industrial maintenance oils. The passages fade into dim half-light.

[A.T.]

Falk

 

There was clear tension in the air, not just the sword hanging over their head but with how much more personal this investigation had become with each passing day. Greysons men had ensured that but cooler heads must prevail here.

 

Pulling the armoured hood of his flak-coat over his head he waited for the rest to pass before taking up the rearguard, today was not the day to test Scourges focus in such a role.

 

 

Awareness 68 vs target 52, fail with one DoF (has photo-contacts)

[Trokair]

Bardas

 

While he probably should continue in to the core of the enclave and find out why there has been no official response to any of the communication attempts since the death of the first hive, the remains in the disposal bins was the first actual anomaly he had spotted. It could be just some criminal activity and its aftermath, or even some of the recent cult uprising that had spilled into the enclave and been put down. Whatever the case it was a details at odds and Bardas decided he would spend a little more time on it.

 

Locating a Sustenance and Recharge canteen nearby, despite what the uninitiated might believe, the folk of Mars where not just machines that could endlessly, they had to eat and recharge their batteries just like anybody else. A work gang had just finished its scheduled time at the canteen and was heading out; another would no doubt arrive soon. Taking a seat at the edge, from here he could still observe the workstation where the remains awaited collecting, and made a show of plugging in a recharge cable to justify his presence to the works assigned to the canteen. In fact he had not actually connected; his internal gifts and new limbs where still in good order, Xerxia had seen to that.

[Marshal Valkenhayn]

Solomon 1071, The Upper Wards:

With the majority of the cell's heavy hitters off supporting Falk, the taciturn Breacher finds himself lone support to Bardas. Fully armed and armored, the soldier sits alone at the control throne of the small civilian shuttle granted them, the silent cockpit lit only by the dim glow of the console on stand by.

It seems, appropriate, that he be part of this mission. With every successful breach, every survival, he has felt the great machinery of the Imperium grinding him into shape. Making a cog of him. And now, at the end, here he sits, patiently waiting to see if these will be the final hours of his life. If his services will no longer be needed.

Yet, as he sits, he can not help but think back to the previous meetings. Dwell upon what he has heard, and his own silence in the face of it. His training is clear. These are not matters for which a simple soldier is equipped. 

So why does the need burn so fiercely within him?

Hand moving of its own accord, the sergeant reaches up to key open an external channel, fingers moving across the control studs as he sends a signal request beaming out into space, seeking an audience with the cool-eyed lady inquisitor who has remained very much on his mind.

If these are to be his last hours, then perhaps, just this once, he will speak.

[Mazer Rackham]

The Upper Wards:

 

Bardas:

 

As you take repast, the workstation suffers a change of operator as well. As he starts his shift, he seals the container, and a piston-legged servitor approaches with another crate. Once again, you can see that this contains waste parts. This is then sealed too, before the loading dock at the head of the cargo stack opens, and the crates are lifted up, the floor a hydraulic plate. When the slide reaches the exact angle required, the crates are despatched through a giant cargo chute, in a riot of disordered clanging and rampant noise of metallic collision. Runes and sigils of repurposing flash into life as the cargo dock closes up, resuming the slumbering, horizontal plane.

 

After nine minutes, a different servitor, judging by the augmetics, but definitely similar in ambulatory fitting, drops another crate at the front of the lifting platform, for the whole process to begin again.

 

Both servitors disappear through a circular lift near a staircase leading to the next level.

 

Solomon:

 

Your comms beam latches onto the vessel above. A foreign IFF signal to your own Bastion Fleet is simple to find when you know where, or how to look. The line emits a tremble of pips as the security protocols run, scrubbing any potential scrapcode. A symbol appears on one of your screens, the exact replica of the one taken from Lady Gwynne's would-be assassin.

 

+Kerberos, Vox Officer Maitland,+ a woman says, coolly. +Identify.+

 

Grey 017:

 

Falk:

 

As you turn, there's a flash of navilume glow, reflecting against something in this narrower tunnel. Low down. You only catch a glimpse.

[Necronaut]

Scourge:

 

Scourge grunted in annoyance at the assassin's unspoken admonition but offered no rejoinder in kind, falling in behind him as quietly as one could in 40 kilos of ceramite, steel and synth-muscle. He tried to maintain a healthy distance between Restal and himself so as not to let the display from the auspex impact his vision in the dimly lit corridors, and he kept his bolter at the ready. He was somewhat comforted knowing Nicios and Falk were close behind.

 

He felt the familiar cold sweat of pre-battle nerves start to seep out, but he muttered a prayer to the God-Emperor under his breath and grimly set his jaw. Greyson and his men would pay their penance in blood and steel. 

Edited May 13, 2023 by Necronaut

[Marshal Valkenhayn]

Solomon 1071, The Upper Wards:

+Sergeant Solomon 1071 Kytele-V,+ the breacher responds simply, all nerves deserting him as he reaches this point of no return. 

+Need to speak to Inquisitor Galleus.+

Internally he marvels at how simply the words come. Perhaps it is the emptiness around him, the act of talking to a dim control panel easier than facing down the rank directly. Or, perhaps he has merely found a new depth of fatalism within himself. But whatever the reason, he feels no compulsion to abort as he settles back into the throne and gets his thoughts in order.

[Mazer Rackham]

The Upper Wards:

 

Solomon:

 

Long minutes of terse silence passes, your thoughts your only company as you check the shuttle controls and dials by rote.

 

The symbol spins, interminably, as the time clicks away in your chrono. It seems like the quiet you so covet is the answer, until the panel illuminates.

 

Inquisitrix Racel Galleus appears. +I recognised your name, one of Locke's Acolytes,+ she says with a half smile. +On a private channel. Interesting. Speak, then, our time dwindles.+

[Trokair]

Bardas

 

He waited until the current work crew partaking in the canteens offering had finished, then in the commotion of their departure likewise left. While they did not head in the direction of the lift he nonetheless positioned himself along side and went with them for a short while. Stepping into a convenient alcove between the entrance of a workshop and some sort of storage compartment Bardas took a moment to watch the flow and ebb of traffic, sooner or later there would be a suitable group moving in the right direction he could use as cover to get to the stairs. Taking the lift to follow the servitors directly he had dismissed as a sensible course of action for now.   

[Mazer Rackham]

The Upper Wards:

 

Bardas:

 

Your alcove is well-chosen, and keeps you out of the way. It takes almost half an hour before the servitors have loaded enough crates onto the disposal platform to trigger some kind of intervention. The mechanism jams. A full ten minutes later, an Ordinator - his decreed station symbolised by his Omni-tool axe and servo harness, comes to inspect the problem with repair serfs and engin-near thralls.. He interfaces with the mechwright operating the disposal process, chittering away in pointed binharic. The language of the Machine Cult is pleasing, formal, formulaic even in the haranguing being given.

 

They discuss output backlog, quantities, quotas being missed, but nothing terribly damning.

 

You turn from the debate about quotas as the bound machine is released by unguents and incantations of function. Restored, the machine begins the disposal ritual, and the work party moves downstairs, from whence they came.

[Trokair]

Bardas

 

The arrival of the Ordinator and his support staff caused a subtle disruption to the normal rhythm of movements as others stopped to let him pass, and others further back opting for different paths instead. A ripple of unplanned hesitation spread outwards. It would not last long as no doubt the scheduling cogitator and their inhabiting spirits started to compensate, adjusting the rest of the work shift plan for the entire area. For a few minutes however any monitoring programs would be distracted. Bardas used the opportunity to slip round the far side of this industrial hub, down some of the smaller passage way until he remerged near the stairs and lift.

 

By now the Ordinator had concluded his task, inspection or reprimand; Bardas neither knew nor cared for the details at the disposal workstation. What mattered was that the support staff that the Ordinator had brought with him was large, and the slow moving servitors at the rear of the group, as their lowly station dictated, would take longer to cross the hall. By the time the servitors would access and pass through the security at the stairs to the other levels the head of the group would already be far gone and Bardas should be able to slip in behind the servitors unnoticed.

 

[Mazer Rackham]

The Upper Wards:

 

Bardas:

 

The congregation makes off, allowing you ample opportunity to slip away with it, folding into the coattails of the robed mass. You notice the servitors, lowly as they are on the ladder of mechanovolution wear clavigers - special vambraces which ward off the predation augurs of the belligerent sentinel auspexes. Perhaps it amuses you, as similar protocols exist within your foundations, that your guardianship is both welcomed and recognised by the machines you were in charge of stewarding.

 

The senior acolytes of the priesthood beeline for a lift platform, but just as swiftly the lower orders break for the stairs.

 

The Ordinator is in commune with his immediate clade, and pays you no heed as your part of the cortege begins the pedestrian descent, heading for the second level, the Lower Wards.

 

The toil and effort of the Mechanicum becomes louder, as the subvocal hymnals increase to complement it.

 

Opus bless the piston and the pump! Opus mesh the gears without protest! Opus provide the materials for the Great Work!

 

The Halls of Justice:

 

Reynard:

 

The armoured aircar pulls into the Judge's hangar, settling on a reserved space. The other Judges pile out, decanting to the refectory, armoury, or ready room where their orders determine or allow. Standing on the apron, hands behind his back, but arms illuminated by a dataslate, is Haldane. He looks remarkably tired, and the crinkles around his eyes seem to have doubled. If it wasn't for the light bouncing back off the satin-finish plasteel, you'd think he'd gone grey as well.

 

He watches you get out, his eyebrows raised in the unspoken question.

 

Grey 017:

 

GM: Another reading must be taken before continuing. However, you may take whatever actions you feel appropriate whilst Restal does this: for example, covering entrances and exits, providing an Assist if you have any Navigation Skills, that kind of thing.

 

This part of the tunnel is turning into a maze, but lacks any obvious sign of passing. It would be easy to get lost in here.

Edited May 14, 2023 by Mazer Rackham