[DH1e] The Damocles Contingency (RPG IC)

[Mazer Rackham]

The Voivode:

 

Reynard:

 

The Breacher approaches, covering his rear by turning and walking unerringly backwards towards the hatch. He mounts it without even looking. His baleful helm glares out over the hangar deck, before he seals the door. He reaches for a long pouch at his waist, decorated with the same symbol discovered on the assassins. He hands the circular, leather-bound pouch to you.

 

+A man without a name gave it to me.+ Solomon shrugs. Apparently that is the end of the conversation.

 

The Ducts:

 

A Lawman, an Adept and a Murderer nearly walk into a bar. The joist collapses just shy of them due to the weight and damage inflicted on supporting superstructures. A ringing peal clatters away into the darkness, and is answered by the scraping of claws against steel. Lots of them.

 

A horde of chittering furballs hurl down the tunnel, spilling and dropping into branching shafts. Desperate squeaking and biting accompanies the influx, the rats clambering over anything in their way - including the acolytes. Sheer animal desperation stinks up the duct, musk and excretions of panic. The tide seems unending, but just as suddenly as the vermin erupt over you, they have passed, and the dark and quiet reign once more.

Edited June 12, 2023 by Mazer Rackham

[A.T.]

Falk

 

Shock at the noise or fleeing something within? Falk kept his head down and his lasburner lit as the vermin swept around them.

 

The sound of gunfire was now distant as the group had climbed the tower, perhaps high enough that they could leave the vents. A risk of discovery rewarded by a far greater speed of travel as he assessed the dataslate chart for nearby exits and possible security doors.

 

"We are close to an annex access point to the second tower, our pace would be greater outside of the vents".

 

Risking discovery for speed, now was the time to find if the distraction had succeeded.

[Mazer Rackham]

GM: This is viable.

 

If you want to leave the ducts now, you will be in position to make your way across a bridging passageway, which will take you through a secure evidential storage room (Falk's codes will work) which will let you cross through to Bastion 3 without hassle. Careful movement and keeping low will allow you to evade much of the intellicams and picters in enemy hands (as this part of the bastion is disused, long-term storage of cold cases etc).

 

You may narrate this as you please, finishing your post with arriving at the Panopticon.

Edited June 12, 2023 by Mazer Rackham

[Lysimachus]

Reynard:

 

The Breacher's reticence didn't matter. However he had come to be aboard Galleus' ship, what mattered was that he had brought the antidote. If there was time later, they could figure out the whens, whys and hows. Right now, they needed to cure Gwynne.

 

Reynard hurried through to the bunk where the Lady lay comatose. He knelt beside her and carefully placed the Ordo Xenos pouch down on the deck. Opening it revealed a simple hypo-spray, its vial filled with a clear, unidentified liquid. No need for any medical training to use this device.

 

He picked it up… and paused, looking thoughtfully at the sloshing liquid. What if Galleus was playing them? What better way to rid yourself of a problem than to trick a desperate enemy into doing it for you?

 

Finally he shrugged. Desperate was exactly what they were - if they didn't try this stuff, Gwynne was dead anyway, right? He placed the injector against her arm and pressed the plunger.

 

Edited June 12, 2023 by Lysimachus

[Mazer Rackham]

The Voivode:

 

Reynard:

 

The liquid goes in, thankfully not choking the patient.

 

Other than that, nothing immediately happens. Solomon looks out of the viewport.

 

Cutter makes a sly face. "Maybe you have to kiss her to wake her up?"

 

+Bleep-blee-oop-blurt!+ the co-pilot opines.

 

"Why does it have to be a prince?" Cutter demands of the servitor. "Anyway, we don't have one handy, in case you didn't notice."

 

+Whee-oooo-bleep-woop?+

 

"No, my father was a grox-farmer-"

 

Solomon racks his shotgun, which brings the bickering to an abrupt halt. +Contact, Four o'clock low. Thirty metres.+

Edited June 12, 2023 by Mazer Rackham

[Lysimachus]

Reynard:

 

Reynard was so focused on looking for any sign of response from Gwynne that he was barely paying attention to Cutter's joke. He smiled, totally distracted, and replied without thinking.

 

"Illegitimate grandson of an Archduke is the best I can manage…"

 

Then Solomon spoke and Reynard jumped up immediately.

 

"What is it? Trouble?"

 

Then, as he peered through the viewport, he realised what he had just said. He looked back at Cutter, who was standing open-mouthed. Reynard grimaced, irritated with himself, then shrugged.

 

"My father is a swindler with a death sentence in five Sectors, though," he muttered quickly, "so it pretty much cancels out."

 

[Mazer Rackham]

The Voivode:

 

The hull rings with a tremendous clang, amidships. Solomon doesn't answer, he doesn't need to.

 

The Voivode begins to slowly grind sideways, the nose coming about in a groaning arc, as the front canopy shows you're turning launch-ward.

[Lysimachus]

Reynard:

 

Whoah! What was that?

 

Steadying himself against a bulkhead, Reynard tried to peer out. Had the Golem sent reinforcements?

 

"What the hell is out there? Cutter, if the Voivode's main guns aren't usable, what have we got in the weapons lockers?"

[Trokair]

Bardas

 

15 years this place had been abandoned, so when had the bypass control rig been installed? It looked more recent than the evacuation. Another unanswered question, which he would just have to file away for later, or like so many others for never. Of more immediate concern was the one camera that was active, had had to assume he had been spotted and that it reported to the Golem. No time to waste then.

 

Spoiler

Tech Test for Level 2 functions

Int: 39 + 10(Tech Use +10) -10(Dificult) = 39

D100: 81, Fail, 4DoF

 

Suddenly the terminal screen flashed once then turned blue. Bardas did not know if he had tripped some trap, or if whoever the camera reported to had cut him of remotely, but he was locked out of the terminals. No amount of appeasing the cogitators spirit with the rites of Tet’is was going to help here.

Edited June 14, 2023 by Trokair

[Mazer Rackham]

The Voivode:

 

"I never said the weapons were useless, your royalness, just the ones on the Starboard side...as for kit, there's some cutters, a few lascarbines, see what you can dig up. The Old Man was a bit of a hoarder."

 

He adjusts his web harness, hands bringing to life whatever he can muster, as the plasteel on plasteel grind continues, the hull chugging along with an ear-piercing din.

 

"Augurs...have nothing definite. Helpful. Gentlemen, you'll have to use the Mark One Human Eyeball."

 

+Blurr-whee-bloop-ooo?+

 

"Yes, we're probably going to die."

 

+EEp! Blurp-woop!+

 

"You did ask, old sport."

 

The ship keeps shifting towards the hangar mouth, the opening growing in side with each passing second.

 

GM: This now depends on what you'd like to find. It's chicken and egg, but that's the point. You will require a Search Test, modified by the following Availability parameters (weapons will be singular, with ammo, items like grenades will be 1D3).

• Anything Plentiful/Common/Abundant: Challenging (+0)
• Scarce: Difficult (-10)
• Rare: Hard (-20)
• Very Rare: Very Hard (-30)
• Near Unique: Arduous (-40)
• Unique (lolwut).

 

++++++++++

 

The Precinct:

 

Scourge:

 

The horde thins, but still they come. Cephas has already abandoned his empty boltgun, allowing it to swing by his side on a stout leather sling. The gunfire from the combined forces is utterly ferocious, but the red-smocked killers keep coming. Fabian Canthus has turned one of the Repressors into a  fixed redoubt, and with his mercenaries, give good account.

 

Likewise, the Arbites do not slack, forming a suppression shield wall, heading for the bastion doors. If they can make it inside, the battle will turn.

 

+Squire, see them through!+ Cephas commands.

[Lysimachus]

Reynard:

 

 

Spoiler

Search Test: Per28/2=14 +10(HS:Sight) = 24, Roll: 70. Ha! Fail, even before including any Availability mods.

 

 

Reynard looked for a moment into the weapons lockers, but the whole storage area was a chaotic mess. Cutter should take better care of his vessel… though to be fair, considering how the gunship had been thrown around today, maybe it wasn't entirely his fault. No time for a more thorough rummage, either. He'd have to make do with what he had.

 

"Forget that. If some of the guns work, why aren't you using them already? Get on the vox as well. If anyone is in the area, we could do with an assist. Come on Solomon, time to repel boarders!"

 

With that he slapped the hatch opener again and poked his head out just far enough to try and see what was pushing the Voivode.

 

[Mazer Rackham]

The Voivode:

 

Cutter's lip curls. "Because whatever bastard is pushing us, it's on our Starboard side. That's the right, for you landlubbers."

 

When you reach for the door, and it cracks open, Solomon is at your at shoulder.

 

The servitor makes a warning sound.

 

"Temperature spike? What-"

 

Freezing cold air wafts in with slicing draught, frost flash-forming in the sudden moisture from your breath and body heat. The air tastes greasy.

 

Cutter hits the comms, opening every channel he has. +This is the Voivode, we need immediate support from any units, repeat this is the Voivode!+

 

A wrench of metal causes feedback sparks and resistor pops as something is torn off the roof, and sent crashing down onto the heat-resistant deck plating. After the cacophony of materiel being broken up, the distant sound of high-range hummed notes from a female throat.

[Lysimachus]

Reynard:

 

Reynard shrank back from the hatch, away from the freezing air and the eerie voice.

 

"That's Helene Aldario up there," he muttered to Cutter and Solomon. "Without Nicios, we aren't in any position to take her on. Unless… we need to either get Gwynne up, or to get her off this boat before it gets thrown off the top of this building."

 

He hurried back towards the bunk where the Magister lay, hoping for some tiny sign that the antidote was working.

 

"Cutter, get ready to open the port side hatch, away from whatever is pushing on the starboard side? Solomon, we might have to carry her and make a run for the Valkyrie?"

 

[Mazer Rackham]

The Voivode:

 

Reynard:

 

Quick footsteps above your heads on the hull, presage the shape of a bloodstained face through the cockpit. Presented upside down, the figure breathes on the canopy, drawing a broken heart in the same orientation. The figure vanishes, more footsteps.

 

A harsh, broken lullaby in her hushed voice enters your mind - without disturbing your ears.

 

"Little rats, little rats, let me come in,

Or I'll rip all the hairs from your chinny-chin-chin!

I'll huff and I'll puff,

Push you out in a spin,

And you'll never be ratty here-

Or again..!"

 

Cutter looks at you. " this!"

 

He yanks his sidearm out and slips from his throne to grasp the port release hatch.

 

Solomon moves to the recumbent form of Lady Gwynne, standing over her, helm lenses blazing up at the roof of the craft, trying to see where this damnable interloper lurks.

 

"If you see that witch on the port side, let her have it!" Cutter calls to the co-pilot.

 

+Bleep-bloo!+

 

There's no need for Cutter to translate that one, as the Voivode continues to dredge its way across the landing apron.

[Necronaut]

Scourge:

 

"Thy will be done."

 

Scourge hurried forward to join the advancing knot of Arbites who cowered behind their riot shields, weathering inhuman blows from the mechanical horrors. Pushing the muzzle of his boltgun between two of the lawmen, he primed the igniter and squeezed the trigger of the single-use auxiliary Exterminator cartridge mounted under the boltgun's barrel, unleashing a withering torrent of burning prometheum into the horde of crimson-robed assailants.

 

"BURN, YE ABOMINATIONS! BUURRRRNNN!"

 

The near-blinding light from the fireball lit up the zealot's crazed eyes behind his slitted visor, and a rictus of religious ecstasy contorted his scarred and unshaven features as the inferno consumed the blood-crazed servitors. He found himself weeping tears of joy as he brought down incendiary justice upon the fell machines, panning his weapon back and forth until its fuel was spent.

 

 

Standard attack: Exterminator

No attack roll: flame & spray weapon, all enemies within 20m frontal 30⁰ cone are affected

 

Damage: 1d10+4E, Pen 3, Flame, Spray

Flamer Damage: 1d10 10 (Righteous Fury?) + 4 = 14 damage

Righteous Fury (no attack roll, flame/spray weapon):

Righteous fury: 1d10 5 additional damage

Damage Total: 14 + 5 (RF) = 19 damage, Pen 3

[Lysimachus]

Reynard:

 

Doing his best to ignore the witch's singing, Reynard mentally ran through their options again. Stay aboard? No good, she'd throw them off the landing pad. Get off then - but they'd have to be quick.

 

"Right, when I say go, Cutter opens the port hatch. Solomon carries the Lady. I'll try to cover us. We all head aft, towards the Valkyrie. Cutter, go first, get in and get it started up as fast as you can. Helene's up top, so if we stay tight against the Voivode's hull, we should have some cover. If she comes down after us, your co-pilot can hopefully get an angle on her with the port side guns. Agreed?"

 

He paused, looking around. No objections. No better ideas.

 

"Right. Go!"

 

 

[Mazer Rackham]

The Precinct:

Scourge:

 

Your holy fire devours the entire front rank of the horrific creatures assailing the Emperor's own Legislators. Enough of these constructs is flesh and combustible material, that they fall, screaming with voices almost too human, yet it is edged with ragged electrical ring. Perhaps these once were servants of the Emperor, like yourself, but now subsumed to a terrible fate, a malignant entity corrupting all it touches.

 

The Lawmen take advantage of your act, and the space bought allows them to push forward. A solid shape moving behind you reveals Cephas has rear-guard, the buzzing swing of his masterwork powersword offsetting the promethium stink with sharp ozone edge.

 

+Keep moving!+ he says. His blade is a flicker of lightning that fells any attackers even as they rise up to abuse him.

 

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see this push, and the ultimate danger Cephas represents to your enemy, draws them water downhill. They too must know that to gain the gates is a victory, and so threaten some scheme they protect. They rush to cut you off from what is inside...

[A.T.]

Falk

 

Secure storage... practically unoccupied even during the busiest of times as thousands of years of accumulated evidence for cases never signed off for archiving remained awaiting closure.

 

To ensure sanctity of the evidence it was practically a its own building within the tower, access could not be granted remotely and autonomous constructs were excluded. He mused that the scribe-adepts interned within might not even be aware of the events outside given their fate to toil unto death here to ensure no aspect of active investigations ever left the room.

 

Even his own clearance would not normally have provided access without additional documentation but the sigil of question Haldane had assigned him in anticipation of a raid on the Canthus territories was both sufficient and, should the golem somehow be watching, keyed to the proctors authority rather than his own.

 

The approach was a mess, bodies strewn everywhere amongst an appreciable count of the golems constructs. Most personel in this sector had little reason to be armed and those that were had less in the way of anti-armour weaponry, but the location was a natural bastion of defense. They could of course have withdrawn to the safety of the storage vault but every last one had died protecting its integrity. Admirable.

 

"Touch nothing within", once the door was sealed behind them the lifts and grav-platforms within would bring them quickly to the Panopticon access point. Any higher than the command level they would need to reach on foot through the high security accessways.

[Lord_Ikka]

Nicios

 

Nicios brought up the rear of the trio, gun ready and ring slowly spinning in opposite hands. He kept his mind closed down and powers dormant, not wanting to possibly let slip any stray psychic energy. Who knew what could pick up Warp-based emanations? They had already encountered various psykers and witches, and even the rogue AI of the Golem had some sort of psychic presence. Until they were either sure of their target, or discovered by it, he would be as blunt as his fellows and simply bid his time.

[Mazer Rackham]

GM: Alright boys, I'm going to move us on a bit.

 

The Evidence Room:

 

As you proceed through the rows of evidential storage cases, and even with his senses dampened Nicios, Restal and Falk can all sense the walls ringing with a strange silent scream. Herein lies the broken lives of murdered souls, of humanity's base lusts for money, power, killing, or flesh. Most are victims of their own making, gangland tit-for-tat, the crooked being finally broken by their crimes. The innocent lives lost cry out all the louder, fresh in the locker room, but maybe centuries gone, time here has no meaning. The lives and deaths are on hold, awaiting vindication by the Emperor's Law.

 

Your sneaking proves as function more than reverence, but it serves the same purpose. The restless dead pay you no heed, and the augurs and picters are ignorant of your passing.

 

The evidence room ends in a corridor junction, but the signposts of the Arbites are good, and fortune favours you more than it did the Judges who died here. High security doors have been torn open, the security stations ransacked. Many Judges died dutifully defending their positions, holding fast to be found not wanting 'ere the Judgement of Him on Terra comes.

 

The way to the Panopticon is strewn with wreckage, spent shotgun hulls, scrap metal and burned sackcloth and ashes, yet it is the quiet of a siege waylaid, a battle mounted here shows on the redoubt of the doors into the Judge's safehold. Drill marks, sawblade cuts, and maul gouges all show how much punishment this place has taken, and yet, the main entrance to the All-Seeing-Eerie remains whole. In fact it appears the assault force here just picked up and left.

 

Perhaps more pressing concerns drew them away.

 

It is a long dash through the broad passage to the security terminal set into the thick buttressing.

 

The Precinct:

 

The Judges, with Scourge's help, make the gate.

 

Cephas' mighty frame fills the doorway. +I shall hold them,+ he says. The depth of conviction in his voice is warrant to the probity of his statement.

 

The Judges utter a communal wish of gratitude, and vanish down the passageways, heading for the Panopticon, and to obey the last messages of the Praefector, calling for aid. The corridors fill with robed maniacs, presenting a mindless mass of flesh and steel the wicked factor hurls at his hated enemies.

 

The Hangar:

 

As you break through the port door, there's a rip from the heavy bolters at the prow of the Voivode. It's an angry outburst of fire and war, slashing up at a shadowed ghost dancing atop the hull. It strikes the ephemeral apparition, ripping the smoky haze asunder.

 

The ghostly vixen has vanished, but a strange pressure begins to swell at the base of your skull, a leeching pleasure and thrill insidiously crawling through your flesh like walking fingers across your shoulders, caressing your necks.

 

-That wasn't very nice...but am I not a kind soul? Why don't you stop and play with me a while?

 

GM: You must all now make an Opposed Willpower Test. Like before, I will pool the results of our brave heroes against the wicked witch of the north.

[Lysimachus]

Reynard:

 

Spoiler

Reynard: Wp25, Roll: 82, Fail, 5DoF.
Think I'll have to use a FP Reroll: 44, Fail, 1DoF

 

Better, but pretty sure that is still not going to do it, unless Reynard gets any kind of bonus for this being the third (or maybe even fourth?) time he's had to resist Helene's malign influence?

 

Or can we hope Gwynne is waking up…?

 

[Mazer Rackham]

The Hangar:

 

Spoiler

Solomon: WP

D100: Fail, 5 DoF

FATE RR: 2 DoF

 

Cutter: WP

D100: Fail 2 DoF

Total Party DoF: 5 DoF

Vs

Helene: WP

D100: Fail, 1 DoF

 

GM: Helene wins, and the power has manifested, however, I can play about with this since she didn't 'win' by winning. Since Reynard is not Autopiloted, and the DoF's are tied, Helene's WP does win on higher stat, but is unable to use Compel to steal your 'turn'. We'll keep this narrative for now, and you should let your dialogue be influenced by you struggling against her grip. Mechanically, this means you can test WP to shake her off, once per post, until she attempts to manifest Compel again.

 

GM: Your auto-pilot companions aren't so fortunate.

 

The strange sing-song voice seizes your brains with cold fingers.

 

-Shall we all sit down to have a little chat?

 

Cutter, and even Solomon stop what they're doing. The breacher drops Lady Gwynne on the deck like a sack of Regent Edward Imperial Tubers, and subsequently sit down, cross-legged - or as near as possible with void breach armour on.

 

There's a shrill blurt from the cockpit as the Voivode continues to grind on for anther six feet, before stopping. The heavy bolter turrets track an invisible enemy, swivelling and pointing at any likely location of threat.

 

Although you stop, Reynard, your knees buckling to follow the imperative, you still stand, cognisant of your predicament.

[Machine God]

The Archives

 

Kerr Restal:

 

The vast network of stored data was safe from intrusion by being cut off from the network. Multiple doors they had passed through that had grudgingly admitted them through even with Falk's credentials.

 

No doubt cut off from the machine-spirit nets too.

 

Falk had ordered them to not to touch any of the evidence locked up in the vaults.

 

 

 

Fancy being too careless to leave evidence of your handcraft at the scene?

 

 

 

They advanced towards the Panopticon.

 

As they walked through he momentarily espied an opened volume lying on a desk.

 

He only glanced for a second.

 

 

 

De Carabas...

 

 

 

 

[Lysimachus]

Reynard:

 

Spoiler

Reynard: Wp25, Roll: 31, Fail, 0DoF

 

 

Hang on… Sorry GM, am I understanding your post right that this is now (just) enough to beat Helene's 1DoF this 'Round'? Or do I still need to keep rolling each time I post?

 

It was all Reynard could do to keep his feet under him. Moving even an inch further towards the Valkyrie was - literally - a step too far.

 

Clutching his shotgun so hard his hands hurt, Reynard desperately looked around for any sign of Helene's location. Perhaps the inferno shells might do more to harm her? Common-lore wisdom had suggested burning as the right way to deal with witches for countless centuries.

 

Spoiler

Awareness Test: Per28 +10(Awareness+10) +10(HS:Sight) = 48, Roll: 35, 1DoS.

 

 

"Get up, you fools," he groaned. "Fight it! Lady Gwynne, if you can hear me, we need your help. Your sister is here!"

 

 

Edited June 15, 2023 by Lysimachus

[Necronaut]

Scourge:

 

Scourge squeezed the spring-loaded mounting armature and discharged the spent exterminator canister as he entered the precinct, the stink of prometheum hanging about him in a miasma. He nodded to the arbites as they hurried off to their various destinations or dooms, he knew not which, and watched as more of the robed fiends came from out of the woodwork, their wicked blades glistening with the blood of the fallen. There was no need to exchange words with the murder-servitors, and Scourge's boltgun kicked thunderously in his hands, offering the only greeting that had any meaning in war.

 

 

 

Full Action: Semi Auto Burst, BS 37

SAB: 37 (BS) + 10 (SAB) + ??? (Horde Size?)

Semi-auto Burst: 1d100 78 guessing both shots miss?

OOC: Clarified by GM

 

Bolter damage: 1d10+5X, Pen 4, Tearing

Hit 1: Bolter Damage: 2#1d10 8 6 + 5 = 13 damage

Hit 2: Bolter Damage: 2#1d10 1 5 + 5 = 10 damage

Hit 3 (explosive): Bolter Damage: 2#1d10 10 7 + 5 + 2 (RF) = 17

Righteous fury: 1d10 2

 

 

2 bolt rounds expended (20/24)

 

Edited June 15, 2023 by Necronaut
Added hits & damage rolls