[DH1e] The Damocles Contingency (RPG IC)

[A.T.]

Falk

 

Just vermin, a cat perhaps. He hoped nothing worse but they should not allow their pace to be slowed by unfounded paranoia.

 

It occured to him that Scourges presence here was a two edged sword making their identity clear to any who knew them but also dissuading any chancers and petty thieves from interfering, even if unsuccessful here the focus of their actions were already shifting towards the needs of a final assault upon the golem. The inquisitor had set a deadline in a most literal sense.

[Lysimachus]

Reynard:

 

Tiredly, Reynard shook his head.

 

"Deal's borked. I'm not sure if I screwed it up or De Grassi never intended to show… anyway, I'd better talk to the old man."

 

He paused. For some reason, after Haldane's earlier error and his reticence to reveal his sources, Reynard didn't quite trust the Arbitrator. Probably just being paranoid… but he'd have to go through it all for Locke anyway, and he didn't want to relive it twice. Besides, regardless of what had just happened with Una and the Spyrer, it was still always best to deal with the organ grinder...

 

 

Edited May 14, 2023 by Lysimachus

[Mazer Rackham]

The Hangar:

 

Reynard:

 

Haldane looks at you levelly. His voice doesn't have to carry, as the engines cool, the hangar is fairly empty, the complement of Arbities air-cars and airframes thin due to patrols. "The 'old man' is in conference with the Praefector. If you don't want to tell me, you'll have to wait."

 

He turns on his heel, and walks steadily back inside. There appears to be little else to do, but to return to your quarters. As you walk, a chime disrupts your wandering through the very empty corridors. The whole place seems to be deserted, excepting the vox officers, who you pass on the way to your dorm, working all the dispatch signals and response coverage.

 

Reaching into your coat, nudging the microscope aside that your dataslate shares the voluminous pocket with, you draw the device out, tap it to scroll through.

 

Marked from an unknown sender and source, the blue-blood nasal inflection comes through.

 

++++++++++

Reynard,

 

I expect you will delete this, but it clears my head. I want to hate you, to hurt you. I cannot. Firstly there is no point, and secondly, there is no time. I suppose, in the end it does not matter at all, in the grand scheme of things. You had your part to play and there you are, a pawn left on the board, yet I am the one forced to resign. I applaud you. The game between us is won. Congratulations on your victory.

 

Without the cure, there is no hope for Magda. Not here. It was my last chance - and I was hoping you could see that, but now I must withdraw. I could not admit it to you, for bending is a weakness and such things have been bred out of me by the deadly court in which I grew up. Nobles have different problems, but they have them all the same. A dagger in the night, poison in the chalice. Your family is the enemy. Maybe at another time, or in other circumstance we could have talked sooner. That moment has long passed, if it was ever born, and yet here I am, trying to reach you. In another universe, perhaps we could have been friends - or at least respectful rivals. Fate laughs at us all.

 

I am leaving the hive, and have bribed the Captain of a Naval vessel (a degenerate gambler) to take me and any who will go with me. We have recovered Magda, and that is at least some consolation. Una and her family are with me, as a reward, not hostages. I gave her my word, so I cannot break it. Noblesse Obligé. You know how it is.

 

We will not meet again. I hope the Emperor is kinder to you, than me.

 

Farewell,

 

- Lexandro.

+++++++++++

 

The message ends, with no way to reply.

 

Edited May 14, 2023 by Mazer Rackham

[Machine God]

Kerr Restal:

 

The tunnels system began branching as they advanced, a labyrinth with no string.

 

Odd thoughts, but stay alert.

 

Bringing the scanner to bear, he took another reading. He didn't need to glance back, he knew that his companions were covering all the arcs.

 

 

INT 33 +0 (Tech Use) +20 (Auspex) +10 (Routine Difficulty) = 63. Result: 06, Pass 5DoS

 

 

Cautiously he advanced once more.

 

 

 

[Mazer Rackham]

Grey 017:

 

The scanner, unthwarted by the myriad tunnels and responding to Restal's machinely ministrations, leads you down the correct tunnel, the signal growing in strength, even as the tunnel tightens to two-men abreast.

 

Or one man in the harness of plasteel and ceramite.

[Lysimachus]

Reynard:

 

Reynard walked on, wandering until he found himself high on the rooftop battlements of the Halls. Once in private, he sat down heavily, looking out over the upper Hive. He could not quite believe that De Grassi had just given up and gone. Was this another ploy? Yet… the tone of the message felt too… real?

 

After a moment, he pulled the real vial, the real cure, out from its hiding place, brushing off crumbs of hard rations. He stared at it. Worthless. If they had really gone, it served no purpose to anyone now. He might as well las-burn it, just like he had the fake. Perhaps that would actually be smarter than keeping it, in case some other curious Magos Biologus - or Inquisitor - wanted to try to reverse engineer Dreyfuss' potentially catastrophic research?

 

What a waste, though. He actually felt a little sorry for Magda Aldario. Cursed by blood and birth, and denied a cure to that curse by politics and pride.

 

And what a damn fool Lexandro De Grassi really was; an ignorant, self-obsessed child-sociopath, with a truly incomprehensible idea of the meaning of 'honour'. A perfect example of what was created again and again by the 'traditions' of the Imperium's 'nobility'!

 

Might he have grown up exactly the same, Reynard suddenly wondered, had his mother not seen through the gold and glamour to the rotten core beneath? She had saved him, taken him out of that poisonous environment, and though they had nothing materially, she had given him things that the De Grassi family's stupendous wealth would never buy for their son. For all that Reynard had to admit he was a thief and a murderer, he knew he had never stolen from anyone who couldn't afford it, and had never killed anyone who didn't thoroughly deserve it.

 

He paused, thinking again about what the Lord's formative years must have been like. A startling thought crossed his mind. Though he hated the noble class and all it stood for, as individuals should he instead feel… pity? Lexandro De Grassi was a product of all that had been done to him, as well as all that shouldn't have been done for him. For all his wealth and influence, he was a sad, lonely child.

 

Reynard sighed thoughtfully. Perhaps he had mishandled things. He'd viewed the Spyrer as a spoiled bully - which was still entirely correct, of course - but maybe if he had held out a hand, tried to build trust rather than confronting and opposing De Grassi's obvious attempts at manipulation, they might have got somewhere? Hell, maybe he should have just given the fool the damn cure, shown him that there was a better way to be?

 

Would De Grassi have ever understood such an act, though? Locke probably wouldn't have approved, and Haldane and his kindred certainly wouldn't… but did he really want to think like the law-obsessed policemen? He grimaced. Too late now. He stared at the vial for a few moments longer, watching the liquid swirl as he tipped it one way and then the other. Finally, carefully, he wrapped it back into its makeshift cocoon and placed it into the deepest, safest pocket he could find.

 

He'd better go find the Inquisitor.

 

 

[Necronaut]

Scourge:

 

Scourge detested the claustrophobic plasteel corridors of the hive. It resembled a rat's warren to his mind, and the smell did little to dispel that impression. That the tunnel was growing narrower as they progressed deeper only enhanced his discomfort. His lip curled in a snarl of disgust under his helm, but he pressed on regardless behind his void-born guide, casting his gaze about in the gloomy passageway for any signs of ambush or treachery.

 

 

Awareness Test: 36 (Per)

Awareness: 1d100 40: failure, 0 DoF

Edited May 14, 2023 by Necronaut

[Mazer Rackham]

Grey 017:

 

Scourge:

 

Tunnel fighting is not your strength, but His Will is carried everywhere by the stout heart. You see a tiny glint of something at the bottom of the tunnel. Sunk into one of the numerous small vents. It is glimpsed and gone.

 

The navilumes begin to thin out here, worn away by wind and grit as the hive wheezes. The tunnels remain abjectly square, flat sides, floor and roof. It was obviously only meant as a tributary for materiel, broad enough for a wheeled or tracked servitor to carry crates, or short stout lengths of rebar.

 

Up ahead, the tunnel branches into two. You reach a landing, which forms a circular room, to allow for said servitors to turn. As you are facing them, one passage splits away on 10 o'clock, going down. The other is at 2 o'clock, going up.

 

This is where the navilumes end.

[Machine God]

Grey 017:

 

Kerr Restal:

 

The tunnel narrowed, eventually they reached a landing with two passageways heading off of it.

 

Up or Down?

 

The navilumes ended at the landing, the passageways were in darkness.

 

He hummed slowly and caressed the scanner, he re-scanned for target lock.

 

 

INT 33 +0 (Tech Use) +20 (Auspex) +10 (Routine Difficulty) = 63. Result: 07, Pass 5DoS

 

 

He turned and showed the readout to his colleagues.

 

I hope that they can see in the dark.

 

 

 

[Mazer Rackham]

Grey 017:

 

Restal:

 

Signal strength is high, with a keen direction, even a calibration of the immediate layout. The tunnel going down in correct, which the augur reports contains a large room, with smaller rooms leading from it. The signal continues to change location. At this range and fix, you can even gauge the distance it is moving - a four metre square. It traces a box on the screen of the augur, which produces a small amount of light beyond the screen, enough to see the tunnel slope.

 

At least you won't slip and fall.

 

The tunnel goes down over a steady incline across ten metres, before levelling out until terminating in the room after another hundred.

 

GM: Note that this is not a light source per se, it's a small, ambient glow which dissipates over distance. It provides no illumination assistance other than narratively being able to gauge the width/height of the tunnel. Conversely, it doesn't light you up like a Christmas tree.

[Lord_Ikka]

Nicios

 

Let the Emperor’s Light guide us.

Spoiler

Manifest Psychic Power (Sense Presence)

Threshold - 7

Roll - 6 + 2 + 5(WPB) + 1(Power Well) = 14

Overbleed x 1 (5 over threshold)- add 10m to range

Result - Pass. Sense prescence of living beings within 60m. Walls 1m thick block power.

 

 

[Mazer Rackham]

Grey 017:

 

Nicios ONLY:

Spoiler

Nothing lives immediately within your divining senses, GM: OOC (60m unobstructed) however the walls and floor reverberate with the trample of boots coming and going in the past. Even the  dead air leaves faint echoes of the living. Above and below, partitioned from you by thick walls, scraprats and bloodlice paint faint, tiny swatches of life against the doleful shudder of the hive.

 

[Mazer Rackham]

GM OOC: Thought it best to do a new post.

 

Grey 017:

 

As the team descends the narrow slope, you can see thin shafts of meagre, but definite light coming from directly ahead. The other end of the tunnel is indeed open, as the augur indicates.

 

Even this wan illumination is bright in these conditions.

 

And then it goes out, plunging the opening into stygian gloom, erasing where the tunnel ends, and replacing it with infinite black.

 

Those of you with photocontacts or darksight gear are only momentarily befuddled as the tech compensates, increasing the level of ambient awareness. It is then you can see the almost invisible 'felid-lenses' set into small crevices within the tunnel, the so called magic-eye beams of silent warning, spaced out at regular intervals.

 

Furtive shapes resolve into two people, moving at the end of the tunnel, some 90 metres from your group. Scarlet laser beams paint across your shapes, huddled in the dark, before being cut. Your snooper intercept in the prosecution augur relays the muffled shout from the enemy.

 

+Contact, contact! Enemy sighted, ninety metres!+

 

GM: Gentlemen, Initiatives.

 

The Halls of Judgement:

 

Reynard:

 

As you pace through the bastion of law, there's a sudden call of alarm as the lights go out. It takes a full minute for the back-up generator to cut in, bleeding arterial crimson light into the corridors. Deep beneath your feet, there is a rumble, a shift in the hive that lacks the power of a hive quake.

 

Klaxons blare, interspersed with a woman's voice, calm, professional. +Intrusion detected, all Personnel to Bastion 13. Repeat, intrusion detected, all personnel, report to Bastion 13.+

 

A quick glance at the holograph on the wall plots your current position as five minutes away.

[Necronaut]

Scourge:

 

Initiative: 1d10 5 + 4 (Ag bonus) = 9

Edited May 15, 2023 by Necronaut

[Lysimachus]

Reynard:

 

Five minutes?

 

Reynard wondered what the Arbitrators' react time would be. Would they have practised for something like this? Almost certainly. The Adeptus Arbites were rarely welcomed by Imperial Governors.

 

But how quickly would the defenders appear? Whoever was attacking, they were crazy and/or deadly enough to assault one of the most heavily fortified places on Damocles. Either way, he knew he didn't want to encounter them without plenty of back-up!

 

Taking full advantage of every doorway, every bulwark, every available shadow and piece of cover, Reynard edged towards the incursion site. It wouldn't do to be seen retreating from the invaders… but that didn't mean he needed to get there first.

 

[Machine God]

Grey 017

 

Kerr Restal:

 

He advanced into the dark passageway leading down.

 

He could see thin shafts of meagre, but definite light coming from directly ahead. The other end of the tunnel is indeed open, as the augur indicated.

 

Even this wan illumination was bright in these conditions.

 

And then it went out, plunging the opening into stygian gloom, erasing where the tunnel ends, and replacing it with infinite black.

 

Momentarily his photocontacts compensated, increasing the level of ambient awareness.

 

 

Ooh sneaky.

 

 

He made out the almost invisible 'felid-lenses' set into small crevices within the tunnel, the so called magic-eye beams of silent warning, spaced out at regular intervals.

 

Furtive shapes resolved into two people, moving at the end of the tunnel, some 90 metres from your group. Your snooper intercept in the prosecution augur relayed the muffled shout from the enemy.

 

+Contact, contact! Enemy sighted, ninety metres!+

 

 

AGL Bonus: 3 + 10 (Rolled) = 13 Initiative

 

 

 

Letting the scanner drop to his side, Kerr Restal withdrew his Carnodon's.

 

 

 

 

[Marshal Valkenhayn]

Solomon:

In contrast to the Inquisitor's image of cool confidence and slight smile, the soldier's camera feed shows only the dim outline of his bulk seated in the throne, non-reflective armor soaking up the light of the control panel. Closer to frame, a maroon and black gauntlet rests beside the control stud, fingers loosely arched as the shadowed head considers her somberly.

+Lady Inquisitor.+ Solomon begins, words slow and rough as he puzzles his way through his normally private thoughts. +Words are not my strength. Not what I was made for. It is my purpose to serve, and to die.+

There is no regret, no bitterness in the statement. These are simply facts. Truths that he has resigned himself to, taken into himself until they have become a sort of strength. A pride in knowing where in the universe he belongs.

+But before that time comes, I need to understand.+

Blunt. Direct. Perhaps not as respectful as should be expected, but he is not used to speaking to figures of authority. Not beyond saying 'Yes Sir' and 'Understood'.

+What benefit have you seen to slaying the Lady Oracle? I, hate the Tau. If this creature can destroy them then it is what they deserve. But once it has, we will need to kill it. This is her Emperor granted purpose.+

Solomon:

In contrast to the Inquisitor's image of cool confidence and slight smile, the soldier's camera feed shows only the dim outline of his bulk seated in the throne, non-reflective armor soaking up the light of the control panel. Closer to frame, a maroon and black gauntlet rests beside the control stud, fingers loosely arched as the shadowed head considers her somberly.

+Lady Inquisitor.+ Solomon begins, words slow and rough as he puzzles his way through his normally private thoughts. +Words are not my strength. Not what I was made for. It is my purpose to serve, and to die.+

There is no regret, no bitterness in the statement. These are simply facts. Truths that he has resigned himself to, taken into himself until they have become a sort of strength. A pride in knowing where in the universe he belongs.

+But before that time comes, I need to understand.+

Blunt. Direct. Perhaps not as respectful as should be expected, but he is not used to speaking to figures of authority. Not beyond saying 'Yes Sir' and 'Understood'.

+What benefit have you seen to slaying the Lady Oracle? I, hate the Tau. If this creature can destroy them then it is what they deserve. But once it has, we will need to kill it. This is her Emperor granted purpose.+

[Lord_Ikka]

Nicios

 

Initiative 

Roll - 1 + 3 = 4  

 

Good lord Nicios can't get a break on Initiative...

[Mazer Rackham]

The Shuttle:

 

Solomon:

 

Racel's eyes narrow, seeking the trap or ploy in the question. Maybe she suspects you are a ruse dreamt up by Locke, such guile is not past him after all. She shrugs, her tone straightforward.

 

"Your hatred of the Xenos scum pleases me. It befits all Imperial servants. Lady Gwynne is a pawn, my dear Armsman. Your master knows all too well if his chessmen are removed, I have the game. The Inquisition is not a monolithic block, sometimes we must dirty our hands with using dishonourable methods and tools. The Golem was one such tool," she breaks off, staring past your blunt helm.

 

"That may not be an option anymore. After consulting with my advisors, our arcane device might not be sufficient, even if it predates the fall of the Aeldari," she muses, just talking."

 

"Surely this can't be the only reason you're contacting me? To discuss a thing you already suspect? Lord Locke does not recruit fools."

[Trokair]

The Lower Ward

 

As he took each flight of steps he strategically fell behind the descending servitors, small pauses on the landing of each zick zag of the staircase. Finally, some 20 meters down from where he had entered the stairs he reached the door that the servitors had existed. The worn stencilling next to the door identified it as the Lower Ward, the flight of stairs did continue further into the depths, but for now he would stay on this level, the suspect disposal containers had most likely come from here.

 

Once through the door Bardas took a moment to survey the area, so as to not draw undue attention he had taken out the reactor core dataslate and held it as if he was consulting it. This lower ward was more akin to a giant open factory floor, production lines and machinery snaking across in apparent chaos, but in truth was just the result of many generation of adaptation and adjustment for optimisation for the past and current needs. Unlike the many small specialist workshops above this floor and no doubt several more below were pure industrial might.

 

If the Magi wanted to they could no doubt reconfigure everything and produce anything they wanted, from the components for  the might mining machines that were deployed beyond the hives to extract pressure raw materials or even tank brigades by the dozen.

 

In such a industrialised section non workers would be far more noticeable, and outsiders a rarity, but an inspection clerk with a dataslate clipboard was just a tree in the forest. Thus Bardas wandered throughout the lower Level, looking for further clue as to what might be going on. If nothing came of it he would have to try to reach the closed sanctum level of the upper echelon of the local priesthood, and there remaining unnoticed was likely a impossible task.  

Edited May 21, 2023 by Trokair

[A.T.]

Falk

 

Ambush or rear guard? It would make little difference at this range if these were Greysons men, pistols and shotguns against entrenched auto-weapons... he could only hope that Scourges armour would hold up long enough for the rest to move up behind him and there was little else here for cover.

 

Initiative 4+3 = 7

[Mazer Rackham]

The Tunnel of Death:

 

GM Notes: 

You don't need a map for this one guys, it's a tunnel of hot lead-ed love. You're 90m away from the entrance, 10m from the turning circle, which is also out of the line of fire, so is a valid option to retire to. The assailants aren't dumb, they're peeking around the corner, so:

 

Alpha 1 (left side of tunnel): Head and Left arm exposed.

Alpha 2 (right side of tunnel): Head and Right arm exposed.

 

Other than lucky hits, you'll need Called Shots. Anywhere else is going through a lot of plasteel.

 

Ricochets: Anything that doesn't penetrate Scourge's Power Armour is going to ricochet. Normally in open environments, this wouldn't be a problem, but in an enclosed space such as this, it's going to be a hazard. Anything within 1m of Scourge will be eligible for a Ricochet, which will be rolled on the Scatter diagram by me, thereby making being near him a calculated risk.

 

Quick and the dead: Dodging will function as normal. However, you may 'buy' an extra Dodge Reaction with a Half Action from your own Turn. (ie you can Dodge Twice, but you're left with a Half Action). This exemption is specific to this encounter.

 

Minute of Angle: This is a tunnel. There is nowhere to go. Each Party member is eligible for allocation of hits from FAB/SAB.

 

Environment: It's pitch black. That means all BS Tests to Hit are Hard (-20) without special equipment.

 

Questions in the OOC, I'm amenable to reasonable adjustments as long as they don't stray too far from these principles. I'll move us into Structured Time when we're all happy.

[Mazer Rackham]

GM OOC: Whilst the queries for the tunnel encounter are being resolved, we'll push Reynard on a little bit. Note that Bardas' mission is taking place roughly slightly ahead of Reynard's for...dramatic purposes.

 

The Halls of Judgement:

 

Reynard:

 

Even as you make your way forward, another thump bumps against your feet, the vibration rippling outwards from somewhere else.

 

+Intrusion detected in Bastion 17. Repeat, intrusion detected in Bastion 17. Reserves mobilise to respond. This is not a drill.+

 

The announcer is still professional, but you can hear the distress creeping in. From your memory of the previous map, that is several stations away from Bastion 13. Safe enough to be away from you, but a second intrusion all the same.

[Lysimachus]

Reynard:

 

Multiple points of ingress, with the attackers out of range to provide each other support? That suggested to Reynard that either the enemy commander was a fairly poor strategist… or that both forces might be big enough not to need such support? If the latter, this was starting to sound more like an invasion rather than an incursion.

 

Reynard's role here was spy, not soldier. He kept moving, still heading towards the first breach point, but maintained as low a profile as he could.

 

 

Spoiler

Silent Move or Concealment? Either way:
Ag50, Roll: 09, 4DoS!!

 

 

 

[Machine God]

Tunnel of Death:

 

Always shoot the Sinister One!

 

 

Two targets presented themselves at the end of the tunnel, one on each side peered around their respective corners.

 

Professionals using the cover to their advantage a head and a gun.

 

I see you!

 

 

 

Half Action - Aim at left target.

Half Action - Standard Attack.

BS 40 +10 (Aim) +10 (Accurate) = 60. Result: 03, Pass 5DoS

Damage: 1D10+4 +2 (Mighty Shot) +2D10 (Accurate = 5DoS)

Left Arm: 10 (RF = 87, Fail) +4 +2 +9 +7 = 32 Damage, Pen 2