[BC] A Vulgar Display of Power - Episode I (RPG IC)

[Necronaut]

A Lesson in Violence (A Bar Room Brawl Vignette): 

 

Structured Time 

 

Round 4 

 

Iorek: 

 

Captain de Vega is caught entirely unawares by your vicious assault as you crash into him at full tilt, but right at the instant you would have expected to cleave him in half with your whirring chain-blade, you feel your weapon rebound and you are confronted with a sudden, blinding burst of light. Mercifully the optical filters in your helm still function as of yet and the searing flash is reduced to a mild irritation. The captain, however, is driven to his knees, howling in agony as his retinas are seared to the point of ruination, along with that of his lackeys, who are caught completely by surprise and fail to shield their eyes from the blast. By some dark miracle, the fleeing dark eldar sellsword is also caught by the overpowering explosion of light and staggers forward blindly, still hoping to escape. 

 

Their doom is at hand.  

 

 

 

De Vega Reaction: Dodge: 95 (D100); utter failure.

Common Quality Conversion Field Activation Roll: 09

Damage is mitigated but the field overloads. 


De Vega Agility Test (+10) vs Photon Flash: 59 (D100); failure. Blinded.

Pirate Scum Agility Test (+10) vs Photon Flash: 38 (D100); failure by 1. Also blinded.

Dark Eldar Agility Test (+10) vs Photon Flash: 76 (D100); failure. Blinded. 

Sakal & Iorek are protected from the effects of the photon flash by their auto-senses.

 

  

 

 

Sakal [ ]

 

Edited December 17, 2023 by Necronaut

[Trokair]

Sakal

 

Spoiler

Dodge attempt for the horde attack in round 3

Ag: 31

D100: 75, Fail...

 

The flash of an overloaded power field was an unexpected development, but in a way a reassuring one, the captain was now defenceless against any further swings of the Chosen’s weapon.

 

In the after effect of the flash one figure stood out, its armour a stark contrast to those around it and it was the one the Chosen had tangled. It had all happened very fast, but Sakal was fairly sure it had been the unseen shooter, and as the figure did not appear to be coming to the aid of the Captain perhaps it was not part of that crew, so it shooting at them, Sakal was not sure if he or the Chosen had been the target, was a concern, one he intended to remedy.

 

Spoiler

Aim at Xenos, Standard attack with Plasma Gun

BS:50 +10 (short range) +10 (Aim) +10 (standard attack)= 80

D100: 71, Hit, 2DoS

Assuming no dodge

Location 07 = Head

Damage 1d10: 4 + 8 =12 at Pen 10

 

[Necronaut]

A Lesson in Violence (A Bar Room Brawl Vignette): 

 

Structured Time 

 

Round 4 continues… 

 

Sakal [X]

The xenos, already impaired by the photon flash from the failing force field is completely blindsided by the super-heated discharge from your plasma gun, taking the blast to the side of the head. The eldar screams as the left side of its helm is melted with a horrible popping hiss, charring the pale, wizened flesh underneath. 

 

 

Dark Eldar: Dodge auto-fails due to Blinded condition.

Damage taken: 12E - (Pen 10 - AV3 + TB 3) = 9 damage taken to the head.

 

  

 

 

Captain de Vega [X] 

 

The captain fires his laspistol wildly hoping to catch the immense form of Iorek but to no avail.  

 

 

Pirate Scum [X] 

 

The remaining crew members grope about in a blind daze, unable to get their bearings or take any action of note.

 

End of Round 4. 

 

End of Structured Time 

 

Narrative Time Resumes…   

 

 

Iorek & Sakal: 

 

The pirates and their xenos ally are all but routed, stumbling about and swinging or firing their weapons blindly, accomplishing naught but adding new divots to the roughly hewn walls of the Gutted Cardinal or wounding each other and unaffiliated bar patrons. The tumult and chaos of the close-quarters firefight has been replaced with a strange moment of calm before the grisly work of mopping up that no warrior of Chaos truly relishes, but would not wish to avoid either, begins.  

 

GM: The pirates, their drug-addled captain and the dark eldar mercenary have all been blinded by the photon-flash effect from de Vega’s overloaded conversion field. The xenos has continued to attempt to escape the Gutted Cardinal, albeit at reduced speed and he gropes around blindly for any familiar architectural landmarks, while the pirates and de Vega are all but incapacitated and utterly disoriented. 

 

Iorek and Sakal each need to make an Awareness Test at +0 to see if your characters notice a new arrival at the entryway to the Gutted Cardinal. Should you pass, you will notice a towering warrior bedecked in black and crimson ceramite bearing an immense polearm. Please weave the results (or lack thereof) into your narrative of how you choose to deal with the pirates and xenos as you see fit.  

 

 

Khyran: 

 

You round the final corner of another passageway carved by heavy mining equipment many centuries past, your long-handled glaive loosely held at the ready in both hands. The din of las and bolter fire has died, but the groans of agony coming from inside of the dive have taken their place.

 

A roughly-hewn portal, a bit shorter than you are tall frames the entry to a smoky and dimly lit tavern, as some mortals might refer to it. Above, you will notice a placard mounted on a rod jutting from the cavern wall of the hallway declaring the name of this establishment to be "The Gutted Cardinal," accompanied by a graphic portrayal of its namesake beneath the crude Low Gothic lettering.

 

As you enter, you are greeted by the sight of the various surviving patrons of the establishment emerging from behind overturned tables feeling about blindly on all-fours, and a lone xenos cut-throat with a splinter rifle and serrated knife in hand stumbling towards the exit, half of its spiked helm melted and smoking, the charred flesh underneath exposed. Beyond, a human clad in sea-green light power armour wielding a plasma gun is covering a gaggle of shabbily dressed thugs, and a hulking warrior in blue-grey Mark V ceramite with a shaggy pelt draped across his broad shoulders clutching a monstrous chainsword, who appears prepared to deliver the finishing blow to a kneeling human bedecked in mismatched furs and a dilapidated Imperial Navy uniform. The other Astartes, for he could be nothing else, bears the unmistakable sigil of the Blood Reaver, your erstwhile lord and master, upon the shoulder pauldron facing you.

Edited December 19, 2023 by Necronaut

[Mazer Rackham]

Iorek:

 

This was pathetic.

 

Toughness Test: Cold (Don't know if I damaged the Eldar).

Spoiler

TGH: 48 +10 (Cold Resist) = 58

D100: 35 PASS.

 

At the thought, his ire was punctured, but he still required some form of satisfaction. Stowing Helsdottir, Iorek grasped De Vega in both hands, and shook him upside down, scattering Imperial Thrones, Q'Sal Dubloons, and Anquatzl Cashes onto the floor, promptly dropping the Captain thereafter. Quick-fingered, he stripped the man of weapons and ammunition piling them up before kicking the scrambling fool up the arse with a giant sabaton.

 

De Vega goes sprawling, but the fear of a second broad-soled treatment motivates him to scramble for the door. He's a fraction too slow.

 

+Begone, scum,+ Iorek exhorted as his boot thumped rump, +be thankful of my good humour!+

 

He scoops up De Vega's plundered power sword and throws it at the green-armoured warrior's feet.

 

Awareness Test:

Spoiler

Per: 55 (Autosenses + HS (Sight)

D100: 68 Fail, 1 DoF.

 

+Your trophy, soldier.+

 

Placated, he moved to sit back down in his chosen bench, leaving the other unfortunates to the tender mercies of the plasma gunner.

[Machine God]

Yorean Phentari:

 

 

Ignoring the chaff, he strode purposefully across the market to the entrance archway of Vaarsaal Lord of Desolace! He deftly skirted the yellow braggart astartes, his entourage and the red robed tech lackey, who were engaged with the pirate guards.

 

They were beneath his standing as a Sorcerer! He pushed open the gates and entered.

 

"I am Yorean Phentari, Sorcerer of eminence and I answer the summons to your court, Lord Vaarsaal!"

 

 

 

 

[Xin Ceithan]

Placeholder

 

Khyran surveys the carnage, surprised to find another Red Corsair involved in the ruckus ( less surprised that it’s involving a Son of Fenris) 

 

( if the Drukhari is still moving/ trying to exit the Cardinal when/ where Khyran enters, he’ll try to dispatch him with his blade. Even Khyran’s no longer a Mantis Warrior, he still disdains the Slavers) 

[Trokair]

Sakal

 

Spoiler

Awareness Test

Per:33 +10 (Autosenses) = 43

D100: 18, Pass, 3 DoS

 

He had but a moment to watch the plasma blast dance atop the shoulders of the strange assailant before his attention was forced back to the mob. One came charging towards him, but he must have been still blinking from the shield overload, as he went wide, and Sakal easily stepping out of his reach. The hapless crewman kept going and careened into a wall. Another had gotten close in that moment of inattention, but a hearty encounter with the butt of the plasma gun in tandem with a follow-up kick sent that one sprawling.

 

A few of the crew had recovered just enough to see the Chosen treat their Captain to some foot based encouragement, and took that as their crew to drag their friends and fellows away from the brawl.

 

The Captains scabbarded power swords cluttered at his feet.

 

+Your trophy, soldier.+

 

He better take it then, it would not do to decline a gift from a Chosen, even one as freshly plunder as this. As he knelt to pick it up and examine it closer his gaze returned to the strange assailant that the Chosen had tangled with, surprisingly it was still going, heading for the door, tough creature.

 

Another Chosen, blade at the ready, stood in the doorway. Now there was two of them, this was getting interesting. Were those the same markings as the first? It was hard to see, but if they where comrades that made sense. What were the odds that the gods would allow two to walk into a bar at the same time.  

[Mazer Rackham]

Iorek:

 

Settling on the bench opposite so he could keep an eye on the door, Iorek finally noticed the shadow darkening it. The bulky frame of a Space Marine filled the entrance, his presence somehow leeched into the Gutted Cardinal, swimming around weightless, not even in existence, but it was there.

 

Absentmindedly, he stroked the amulet at his sternum.

 

The Tyrant's Claw bedecked the newcomer's eerie shoulder, the heraldry different but mockingly familiar. Some warlock of Huron's council of seers - this benighted place was rapidly spiralling into the throes of Huron's claws.

 

The alien was staggering around, bouncing from the jamb as it tried to force its way out past the genhanced witch blocking the exit. With superhuman speed the sorcerer lashed out with a spear. The blade reminded Iorek of the tulwars of the Khan's kin, but the seer could have taken it as a trophy, as he had secured Helsdottir.

 

+What dread tide washed you up here, Corsair?+ Iorek asked, and despite the vox distortion, softly. The dislike of warpwyrds was strong in his blood, a legacy of the Prospero. It was a poor opening gambit - he had no need to truly ask. Dark learning and the forbidden were opiates to the ilk.

[Xin Ceithan]

Khyran
 

“ The tides of the Great Ocean and the  will of Huron  Blackheart delivers one to many interesting shores”

 

 

Khyran watched the light go out in the remains of the Drukhari’s eyes and withdrew the blade once he was certain the Xenos was indeed dead. 

 

He shrugged.

 

“Also, there was a bit of a commotion”

 

 

Khyran straightened and gave the Fenrisian a left handed salute, banging the fist to his chest, then brought it up,?palm outward, fingers in what the Corsairs referred to as  “ the Tyrant’s Claw”. 

 

Some used it in mockery of the Imperial cult, some in honest respect, some in the same mockery to the Throne of Thorns.

GIven that he had no real hint to the identity or allegiances of the Fenrisian Corsair, the Sorcerer felt it best to leave his options open. 

 

It would be very much in the nature of the Blackheart to send several parties to a place like the Vortex with similar goals, both to encourage a bit of  competition and increase the likelihood of a favourable outcome on his part.

 

Of course, the same scheming and double-crossing  might be the reason  the renegade Wolf had split with the Red Corsairs and ended up here in the first place….

 

The Sorcerer swung  his left arm back in and bowed slightly. But his  right hand remains   firm on the Grip of Black Dragon Soul and  the beaked snout of his helmet slowly, continually swept from side to side, taking in the interior of the the Cardinal like some oversized bird of prey.. 

 

“I am Khyran Ar’Zhuul”

he introduced himself. He chose to foregore the moniker -Al’Khiatai- that some of the Corsairs attributed to him. A flesh-crafter’s art was not always appreciated. 

“The Song  calls and I answer” 

 

Though It never hurt to build up a bit of mystique. He’d learned that from the Smiling One. 

 

Khyran graciously spread his arm out again in a welcoming  gesture.

 

“And what would bring you here, Red Wolf? Some  great Hunt? A Saga worth telling? 

Or is this just a part of the fabled Fenrisian art of… what do you call it? …Carousing? “

 

Edited December 26, 2023 by Xin Ceithan
Placeholder filled

[Mazer Rackham]

Iorek Redfang:

 

He'd heard the name. Certainly one of Huron's little cabalists, it didn't engender further confidence - which was likely the point.

 

+Hail, and well met.+ He jerked his chin at the xenos corpse. +I am Iorek, of the Redfang.+

 

He returned the Tyrant's Claw salute, careful to mimic the one received, the warpwyrd could be executioner as much as refugee from the Blackheart. The tribes of Fenris were more than mere barbarians, but it led to a polite and courteous society - since to misspeak could end with one's skull caved in. He carefully doffed his helmet, maglocking it to his waist.

 

'To answer your question,' Iorek replied with a slow, cold smile, fangs peaking from his lips, 'all of the above.'

 

He picked up a fresh, unopened bottle, smashed the neck off. The aroma told him it was the same low-tier rotgut, but clean of filth or narcotics, so he tipped it to his lips and began to quaff. Let the sorcerer think as he pleased, at least his thirst would be quenched.

 

Captain De Vega had paid the bar bill after all.