[DH1e] The Damocles Contingency (RPG IC)

[Mazer Rackham]

GM Queries, I'll answer here for speed:

 

Reynard vs Helene - you haven't beaten her; to clarify, you are not fully in her control, hence your ability to struggle. You only require a successful WP to break free, it's not an Opposed Roll.

 

Scourge vs Murderbots - you're shooting fish in a barrel here. You're really rolling to see if you jam, or roll so spectacularly badly, you blow off a Judge's head by mistake.

 

Hope this helps.

 

The Hangar:

 

Panning your head about, through sweat bleared eyes, you can detect a thickening of the air. A greasy slop that dulls perception and fugs the senses - as if you want to swipe your eyes or visor clear all the time. It's oppressive. Close.

 

-Gwynnie! I have missed you, little rat-tamer! Look at my new playmates. Helene says: Say Hello, friends!

 

Your comrades wave their right arms at the fallen sister, as her semi-shrouded, corpse-like shape is pulled back and to an upright sitting position.

 

-Aren't you strong? Helene says to Reynard. -I remember you. A swing. A song.

 

All the lights in the hangar flicker, then cut out.

 

Edited June 16, 2023 by Mazer Rackham
Clean up

[Trokair]

Bardas

 

Bardas stood there for a moment, indecisive, he had to assume he had been detected, and given that he had been pursued earlier, someone, or probably something, was already on the way. As he had not heard any evidence that Von Bosch or the Sicarian’s following him into the irradiated warren of passageways he had to assume that they would have taken some other route to get to him here, so the other way out of the control room was more likely to lead to capture. So back into the GUTS and see if he could find another way out. Perhaps the other two paths at the junction he had so hastily passed would be the way.

 

While he had been thinking this through Bardas had also begun to examine the jury rigged bypass and the jumble of wires, cables and machinery that spread like weeds through and around the back of the main terminal bank.  No simple interface here, and he was not risking a direct connection to his gifts. Scrap code would have even more places to infect and hid inside him now than before, and malfunctioning limbs with minds of their own would be problematic to say the least.

Spoiler

Search Test

Per: 34 – as per post of 3 June sub Int: 39

Basic = 19.5 so 19

D100: 71, fail, 5 DoF

 

The initial evacuation might well have left useful stuff behind, that might even be of aid now, but clearly someone had already gone through and picket clean. Perhaps opportunists after the evacuation, perhaps whoever had installed the golems jury rigged cabeluar jungle.

 

As he had been trying to avoid the security cameras gaze Bardas had not paid its erratic behaviours proper thought, but now it struck him as odd. It swept the control room, but several times it appears to have sped up when he would have been in frame.

 

Could the camera be trying to avoid seeing him?    

 

Bardas stared at it.

 

Slowly he raised his hand and let the Inquisitorial electoo display the I, making sure that it was unavoidably seen by the camera.

 

The Golem already knew where he had come from and therefore alongside whom he had been working, but perhaps the cameras strange behaviours was because it was overseen by one who was not corrupted, but forced to report to someone who was. Some mid level adept tasked with watching security feeds, knowing that something is going on with the senior Magi and trying to avoid drawing attention to themselves by not wanting to flag an intruder. In other words perhaps someone free of the golems taint who could help.

[Mazer Rackham]

The GUTS:

 

The camera desperately looks anywhere else to avoid seeing you, whilst also trying to peek at the same time. It's quite a twitchy display of the camera operator's nimble art.

 

A cogitator chugs an output on vellum.

 

R: Control

0900/100

1200/25

0300/25

R: 101.

Accelerate.

Commune.

 

 

[Mazer Rackham]

GM: Alright chaps, we're going to get the hammer down by railroading you along a bit, but from here on out there aren't many choices for you anyway, so I trust you'll forgive me.

 

The Hangar:

 

Reynard et al:

 

Eyes adjusting to the light, the darkness is not total. The light coming in from outside through the open hangar bay is enough to provide twilight, but there is an altogether human cry, edged with electrostatic from vox distortion.

 

+Carpe Noctem!+

 

What follows is a whistling barrage of bullets, and glinting slivers, filling the air with the stink of fyceline and rancid alien poison. A shriek erupts from the greasy miasma in front of you, and slicks of blood torn from rent flesh sting your face. The desperate battle of wills ends, sudden freedom releasing your mind, your spirit. The relief is that of one who has been trapped underwater, able to see the surface, but unable to reach it before their lungs give up.

 

A photon grenade arrives, tunk, tunk, tunk.

 

A strange afterimage of where Helene is, or was, paints onto your retinas. Shadows of bulkily armoured men with glowing eyes, quite different to the Breacher's but somehow similar, swim in the panoply of sudden light.

 

In this terrible storm, Helene is revealed in bloody glory, face distorted, eyes bleeding crimson lightning in her rage. Fangs erupt from her gums in rabid gnashing against the sudden, terrible pain. Long claws good enough to rip open an armoured door scythe down, towards her younger sister Gwynne, even as Helene's pale skin begins to blacken with horrid purple blotches in a last, desperate act of hateful jealousy.

 

"Daddy's little pet! Emperor's little pet RAT!"

 

The Central Bastion:

 

Scourge:

 

The tide thins, and finally your small squadron breaks through. Behind you can see Canthus, the Proctor, and whatever remains of their men filling the other corridors, all pushing to keep the vermin off you. Going forward, the giant figure of Cephas doesn't seem to reduce with distance, his presence and prowess a sight which will remain with you for the remainder of your life. Nothing gets by him. Whatever miscreant dares his blade dies, and whichever seeks to escape him is destroyed. His sword is a perfect extension of his will, half-hand, parry, cut.

 

Then your party turns a corner and the sight is gone, albeit the sounds continue of power-field discharge exploding flesh, turning metal into scrap.

 

As the tide bleeds away, your force encounters pockets of the enemy, poring over the dead Judges in gruesome cannibalism, cutting off arms, stuffing them into leather sacks. With a fury beyond their disgust, the lawmen ram into the cretins, driving them down with baton strikes and point-blank shotguns. A veteran like yourself knows when a pivotal moment of battle comes, the ebb and flow of reinforcements, the waxing and waning of valour when ranks are close to breaking.

 

With an old soldier's mind, you realise the enemy has either withdrawn, or has expended itself in the push outside, to keep you from within. Their numbers, then, are thin here. You must make all haste to the Panopticon, and determine the status of your liege.

 

Panopticon Approach:

 

Restal, Nicios, Falk:

 

The heavy security doors are intact. Bodies of the enemy and of Judges who died in defence of the place lie intermingled. Bullet holes and scorch-marks line the immediate walls, the smoke and powder of war here in this sanctum. The autoguns on pintle mounts, designed as defences to be controlled from within, are mangled ruin, smashed by the defenders in desperation, or the attackers as strategy. The retinal access lock has similarly been torn away, and the door itself is scraped, gouged and scratched myriad times.

 

As you collect for your approach, a scanner, not unlike those affixed to the other bastions you have seen, plays up and down the last segment of corridor. Stepping into it will announce you. Whatever reception you receive will have you exposed. You must trust those within remain your ally, especially when the reports over the vox led you here at such an opportune time.

 

Thermal Control Room (GUTS):

 

Bardas:

 

You hear the tremulous clink of metal on metal, the felid-like tread of a slender, mechanical assassin, contorting through the ventilation ducts. The sounds seem a good distance away yet, the reverberations reaching you only just, petering out along the metal shaft. You must deduce the meaning of the riddle given, to discover your salvation. You are indeed, on the clock.

[A.T.]

Falk

 

Another test, this one thankfully clear as he handed his pistol and lascutter to Nicios, "I will ensure the path is clear and cover your withdraw if it is not. If needed double back to the archives and burn through to the secondary storage access. It is well armoured but will take you to the upper hangers."

 

With that Falk ignited the symbol of the inquisition and stepped out into the corridor, "I am Magistrate Caleb Augustus Falke. Open up."

[Lysimachus]

Reynard:

 

The lights went out, followed by a storm of light and fire. Reynard was grateful for the photo-contacts he had purchased. He was almost certain that the newcomers must be Greyson and his boys, then he saw Helene's hideous form reaching towards her fallen sister.

 

No way. Not after all the effort he just went through to keep the damn woman alive. He stepped forward to stand over Gwynne, blocking Helene's path and raising his shotgun. The shot selector was already set to chamber the precious Inferno shells. He fired.

 

 

Spoiler

Blurb on Inferno shells says 'A target hit by an inferno shell must make an Agility Test or catch on fire, in addition to suffering damage as normal.' I can't see any separate profile for them, so does that mean I roll a normal shotgun attack in all other respects, and the extra Fire stuff just comes into effect at the end?

 

SAB at Helene.
BS41 +10(SAB) +30(Point Blank) = 81, Roll: 50, 3DoS. Hit on (50=05) Head
SAB = 2 Hits, Scatter = +1 Hit, 3 Hits in total.
Damage 1d10+4 Pen0
Hit 1: 7
Hit 2: 14 (RF Roll: 63, Success) +5 = 19
Hit 3: 11
If any Hits go through, Target must make an Ag test or Catch Fire.

 

 

All three of Reynard's Inferno Shells used!

 

 

The shotgun shells, each tiny pellet coated in sticky, burning phosphorous gel, blasted out like a fountain of brilliant sparks in the darkness. Reynard aimed high, trying to avoid Gwynne and catch Helene in her twisted, daemonic face.

 

"Burn, bitch."

 

 

 

Edited June 17, 2023 by Lysimachus

[Mazer Rackham]

GM: @Lysimachus, on the inferno shells/damage, yes, that would be my reading.

 

The Panopticon:

 

Falk:

 

Scarlet light bathes you entirely at your proclamation. Three heartbeats sound before your trust is rewarded. His Will is Law, His Word is Law. And the light spills soothing emerald, as when his word and law calls, the door is opened.

 

An Intelligencer holds a Vox-Legi across his chest. "I recognise you, Magistrate. Come inside, quickly, sir. The Praefector awaits you in the Eerie."

 

The Hangar:

 

Helene: Dodge

FAIL.

 

The fire explodes as her flesh tears, hot metal and burning phosphorous ripping along her head and shoulders. She is catapulted away with an ear-splitting screech, slamming up against the hull of the Voivode, and bouncing to fall back down, writhing on the ground wreathed by flames.

 

In seconds Greyson, recognisable by his gait, shape and manner are around you.

 

+Two-Three, douse that!+

 

A slight man, given his build under the armour, deploys a canister of securefoam, and sprays the howling witch with suppressant.

 

Greyson sidles up to you. +Been carrying those in case of molotovs,+ he growls. +Bag it! Quick, before she dissolves, and we have to do this again.+

 

The black-armoured professionals tear open a rucksack, expanding it, and after giving Helene a few whacks in the head with rifle butts, get her inside the secure body-bag. Her struggles weak, and screams reduced to piteous mewling, Greyson kicks her carcass in the ribs.

 

+That's for our families,+ he adds, venom lacing every word. +You can give me Dreyfuss' Cure now, Reynard, if it's on you.+

 

Solomon and Cutter get to their feet, whilst two of Greyson's men clamber inside the guncutter's open portside door.

[Trokair]

Charade

 

Feeling satisfied that his hunch may have worked Bardas headed over to pick up the printed vellum strip. As he did so he dismissed the electoo and nodded in the cameras direction, thanking the unseen operator.

 

With a puzzled expression he looked back to the camera, the meaning of the printed snippet escaping him.  Some of it looked like clock times, or perhaps cardinal direction if you he could work out that was considered which.

 

The yet distant sound of the approaching Sicarian came as no surprise; he had been expecting signs of pursuit, it was het some distance as far as he could tell. In fact that he could hear anything suggested that either the Sicarian was sloppy, taking a difficult route that would slow it, or that it was a distraction, the real danger much closer.

 

Help had been offered and he needed to figure it out, as rushing of blindly again would only stall the inevitable, if not directly hasten it.   

 

If R: Control was the room he was in, did that make the main entrance 0600? Looking over to the main door to consider the layout Bardas turned so that his back was towards that door. That would make 0900 to his left, 0300 to his right and 1200 straight ahead.  

 

Now was the second part go this way or a flee this way?

 

Maintain his orientation he pointed leftwards, then looked at the camera and shook his head then nodded his head to indicate his question.  

 

[Mazer Rackham]

The Control Room:

 

Bardas:

 

The camera jerks up and down, quite deliberately, and with definite haste.

 

More noises, not dissimilar tot the first, sound from another vent. They don't synchronise with the other disturbance.

 

There are more coming. The fate of the three Mechanicum agents in the passageway may now have an explanation....

[Trokair]

Bardas

 

Spoiler

Radiation check                                                                                                                       

D100: 66 – High Radiation

Toughness Test

T:43 + 20 (Anti-Rad taken earlier, assuming it is still within the one hour timeframe) = 63

D100: 27, Pass, 3 DoS

 

Saxa at the ready Bardas advanced through the indicated threshold, closing the bulkhead behind him. Before he had let the control room he had opened one of the other paths, in the hope that his pursuers in their haste took the easy bait.

 

As with the earlier passageway these looked abandoned, and it wasn’t long before a little warning signal from one of his gifts clamoured for his attention, there was an uptick in radiation. Nothing he could do about it now.

 

Keeping an eye out for any other erratic cameras that his guide might have within his purview Bardas moved as swiftly as he could while trying to remain silent. Speed and stealth, two naturally opposed forces and he was hopefully not straying too far from the balance.  

 

[Lysimachus]

Reynard:

 

"I still don't understand what you want it for, Greyson. Magda Aldario is gone. To anyone else it's death, not a cure. If we're all friends all of a sudden, how about you tell me the truth instead of your usual method of shooting first and asking questions later? Who are you working for? What are you trying to do here? Why in Holy Terra's name do you think that a bag is going to hold her?"

 

He paused suddenly.

 

"Actually, balls to all of that. First things first - what the hell did you do with LeCroix Senior? I promised the boy I'd do whatever I could to get his father back to him, and I keep my word. Convince me that's handled first, then maybe we can talk about the cure."

 

 

[Mazer Rackham]

The GUTS:

 

As you turn and head down the corridor, a bulkhead lamp blinks three times, then dies. 25 Metres further up the same passage, a second bulkhead winks thrice. 50 Metres beyond, another blink, and one illuminating a turn down the long passage, winking away at 100 Metres.

 

The lamps die, and then repeat, before going dark altogether.

 

The Hangar:

 

+Balls to you, too, Reynard,+ Greyson grumbles without pre-amble. +I shoot first, I answer what I like first, considering we just saved your life - probably.+

 

His men assemble a stretcher, strap the bagged witch to it, and carry her away to the shuttle from which Solomon alighted.

 

+That bag is laced with Argentium Noctilith, another gift of the Ordo Xenos. It'll keep her quiet whilst she endures the torment of the pysker-reactive Drukhari Venoms.+ He walks around to face you, hand still on the butt of his assault weapon. He is careful to leave sight and fire-lines clear to his other operatives.

 

+Dreyfuss' serum will kill Helene. I've known that for quite a while. My new mistress, well, she likes insurance. So, you have it on you or not? You can call it repayment for your un-skinned arse.+

 

+Sorted, boss,+ one of his men says, dropping from the Voivode. His companion follows him, and the whole team move to a good distance, spaced out in solid intervals to prevent being interrupted by firebombs or grenades. The Heavy bolters on the port side of the gun-cutter sag as they power down with a soft sigh-like whine.

 

+Our families were promised a cure,+ Greyson continues, almost wistful. +Well, we got it. The result of turning our wives, daughters and sisters, and the occasional brother...son,+ his eyes go elsewhere for a moment, +into homicidal soup, is in what you've got stuffed up your sphincter, or wherever you've got it.+

 

His hand closes on the weapon, you can see the safety is off. The subtle shift turns his men from bystanders into participants, as they each take the cue, coming on-line.

 

+And it has to be for something, don't you understand? It has to be for something,+ Greyson grinds the last word through clenched teeth.

 

Edited June 17, 2023 by Mazer Rackham
Typos.

[Trokair]

Bardas

Spoiler

Radiation check                                                                                                                       

D100: 64 – High Radiation

Toughness Test

T:43 + 20 (Anti-Rad) = 63

D100: 65, Fail, 0 DoF – what happens now?

 

Follow the lights, that was easy enough to understand. As he got further from the control room he picked up the pace. Spending too much time here would not be good for his health, both short and long term.

[Mazer Rackham]

GM: @Trokair You are beginning to succumb to Rad poisoning. You take 1 Level of Fatigue at this stage. Continue to test. You are correct to include the bonuses from the Anti-Rad, which will continue for about 45ish mins in Narrative Time. You will be safe from mutation at this stage, but further levels of Fatigue may render you unconscious...

 

However, you may surmise that whilst in the tunnels, you will be safe from your pursuers.

[Machine God]

The Panopticon

 

Kerr Restal:

 

He waited with Nicios whilst Falk announced himself to the Judicial Scan.

 

Scarlet light bathed Falk in a beam like rich blood. There was a pause and then the light turned to Emerald and a portal opened and admitted Falk.

 

 

Kerr Restal his Carnodon holstered, grabbed Nicios by the collar with his right hand and rushed for the open portal.

 

He clenched his left hand that was bare into a fist, causing his electoo to flare and bundled Ncios in front of him through the portal.

 

"Kerr Restal and Nicios!" he stated as he rushed through.

 

 

Fortune favours the bold

 

 

 

 

[Mazer Rackham]

The Panopticon:

 

The Intelligencer steps back as Restal and Nicios fly at the door, the assassin's electoo flaring, overcoming the initial urge of the Judge to defend himself against ambush. The dash is foolhardy for a place which has only just been relieved from siege, but it works, even if it leaves the Intelligencer twitchy of temper.

 

He closes the door behind these latecomers, and once more you are all secure in the halls of the Law.

[A.T.]

Falk

 

Stepping aside as the others entered, "Nicios, can you get us a new bearing?".

 

He scanned the room quickly assessing those within as he moved towards the Eerie, the simple fact that the golem had called off its attack here indicated that their task was not done.

[Necronaut]

Scourge:

 

The grizzled veteran was slicked with sweat from the brutal melee that had come to its inevitable conclusion of summary executions and wanton butchery. He was gasping for breath and his arms felt like rubber, as he had been hacking away at his foes almost without interruption for many minutes. He had only managed to fire a few bursts from his boltgun before the robed fiends were upon him, necessitating he resort to the more brutal aspect of his trade with cleaver and heater shield. By some miracle he had managed to emerge with only a few nicks and bruises, the remnants of Valkyrie's ceramite plate seeing him through. He glanced over at Cephas and watched as the armoured giant wiped the blood and machine oil from his immense blade. He barely seemed to have exerted himself during the fight. 

 

He nodded to the Angel and intoned, "Thy bladework was masterful, Frater. I thank thee for the privilege. Let us hie to the Panopticon!" 

 

He holstered his cleaver and heater shield and picked up the massive boltgun again, where it had been hanging by its thick leather strap, and set off at a run towards the Panopticon breathing hard. 

Edited June 17, 2023 by Necronaut

[Mazer Rackham]

The Bastion Corridors:

 

+You honour me, Scourge,+ Cephas' baritone carries a note of sincere satisfaction, +Yet I cannot join you. I must cleanse the Strategium, or our gains are for nought. Give my compliments to Lord Locke.+

 

The link cuts, and in a swashing blur of robe and ceramite, Cephas carries his arcing power sword - the length of a mortal man - down another passageway, and is gone.

[Lysimachus]

Reynard:

 

Reynard frowned and nodded as though considering Greyson's words. He didn't like the look of the firing line that had formed in front of him. However, he had already decided that if he survived the next few hours and gained his freedom from bloody Damocles, he was going to go looking for De Grassi and Magda. Maybe Drexler would have some idea of where they'd gone? The poor, cursed, elder Aldario deserved a chance at a real life, whether that was beside the damaged, pitiable princeling or not. Let the cure actually be a cure. That meant Reynard needed to keep hold of the vial hidden in his deepest inner pocket.

 

Plus, he wasn't at all sure he wanted Galleus to think she had a way to keep Helene under control. Better that the Inquisitrix feared the witch. That would make her more inclined to drop the noctilith body bag into the first black hole they could find. Maybe that would be the kindest thing for the second Aldario sister as well?

 

"I'm sorry for your loss, Greyson. For all of you. I should have understood how and why you got involved in this mess. From what I've seen travelling through your Hive, Dreyfuss was a madman who got exactly what he deserved."

 

He offered the words with absolute sincerity. Then he shrugged, looking around the gathered mercenaries.

 

"But that doesn't change the facts, however much I'd like it to. I can't give you what I don't have. It's like I told Drexler, I believe Dreyfuss' concoction got burned up by Pirentus' goons when they torched our shuttle? We lied about that later, of course, claimed we did have it. Tried to con De Grassi into giving us the xeno-cure for Lady Gwynne in return for the vial… but all I actually had to offer him back was an injector full of Stimm. He didn't fall for it."

 

He held his arms out wide.

 

"You'll have to tell Galleus we didn't have it."

 

 

Spoiler

Deceive Test: Fel45 +10(Deceive+10) = 55, Roll: 09, Success with 4DoS!

 

 

Edited June 17, 2023 by Lysimachus

[Mazer Rackham]

The Hangar:

 

Greyson: Scrutiny Test

FAIL.

 

Greyson's blank, green lenses look at you for long moments, before an audible sniff comes down the vox line. He nods.

 

+Fine. A small scolding from her nibs, but if I can handle blueblooded bastards playing God in a Hive, Galleus shouldn't be too difficult.+

 

He lets out a long sigh.

 

+I'm glad you can see it, Reynard. Part of me even likes you, but it feels short-changed, so don't get misty.+

 

His hand stays by the weapon, but he backs off, instinct and no doubt live-HUD telling him exactly where his team are. His other hand circles his head and points towards the shuttle. One by one the ruthless mercenaries turned operatives peel away, keeping the party covered as they reverse bound towards the shuttle, where they begin loading up, keeping the party covered from their position 30 metres away. Starting to lift off, they pile in, one of the team kneeling, weapon directed from the back of the transport.

 

+See you around, maybe,+ Greyson says.

[Lord_Ikka]

Nicios

 

Nicios moved smoothly out of Restal's grip and handed Falk back his gear.

 

"I can only try to see if I'm able to find a path. Emperor willing, that will be enough."

Spoiler

Don't know if Psyniscience or Sense Presence would work better, so Nicios will try both.

 

Manifest Psychic Power (Sense Presence)

Threshold - 7

Roll - 7+ 4 + 3 + 5(WPB) + 1 (Power Well) = 20

Overbleed x 2 (5 over target each) - extend power 10m per overbleed.

Result = Sense presence of living creatures within 70m, walls 1m thick block power. No psychic phenomena (no 9s rolled). 

 

Psyniscience Test 

Target - 48

Roll - 45

Result = Pass, no DoS

Pushing his mind to its fullest, Nicios searches the Warp for traces of anything he can use.

[Mazer Rackham]

The Panopticon:

 

Nicios (ONLY):

 

Spoiler

A dagger, drawn from the wound, blunted, point broken. Blood leeches from the cut, draining away, falling down the grates and grids, down the lift shafts and service ducts, retreating slowly. Wicked oil trickling down to the lowest sump, to collect in the pit below. A morass of cables and red murder, of creature anathema hatred and the simple human thirst for vengeance.

 

It recharges its mechanical levers and power there, parasitically suckling from the hive as it plots again.

 

The oil runs thin, mostly burned away by the fire of the Golden Lord's will, yet the cogs of the machine clot well enough to turn the horror, and the dark beast must be excised now, whilst he is weak...

 

[Lord_Ikka]

Nicios

 

"Down...we need to go down. Need to kill it."

 

Nicios gasped out his sight, the taint of it heavy on his tongue. His chanted wards and training protected him but the malevolent nature of the vision was unpleasant in the extreme. 

[Trokair]

Bardas

 

Spoiler

Radiation check                                                                                                                       

D100: 57 – High Radiation

Toughness Test

T:43 + 20 (Anti-Rad) – 10 (Fatigue) = 53

D100: 96, Fail, 4 DoF

Now at two Fatigue, character sheet updated.

 

 

Coming on a reinforced bulkhead door Bardas took a moment to pause and listen for any Sicarian scuttle.

Nothing, perhaps he had lost them for now.

 

Testing the wheel to unlock the bulkhead it screeched in protest, rusted almost to standstill by time. He listened again, but still nothing stirred to echo in the corridors he had passed through.

 

A drop of oil or two, and on the hinges as well, eased the door a little, so that Bardas could just about squeeze through the opening before pulling the door shut behind him.

 

He could feel his strength being sapped, and the exertion of dealing with the reinforced door demanded a break. A few minutes later, rested but not restored Bardas pushed on.