[RT] The Silent Architect (IC)

[Lysimachus]

Reynard:

 

Reynard frowned as he watched the recording. He knew he was hardly a born starfarer, but he had never even heard of this prize that Viceroy sought. He looked around at De Wiart's senior staff who had all been gathered to hear the message.

 

“Well then, I assume that Demeter-Seven is our first stop… but what the hell makes this Silent Architect so special?”

 

 

 

 

 

OOC: I'm assuming all the key officers are present, but correct me if that's wrong? While he's in the map room, Reynard will also ask about ‘Androcles’ too, but I'll wait to do that until after questions about the primary mission have been answered.

 

[Mazer Rackham]

The Map Room:

 

One of the Senior engineers peers at the indicia on the hololith. 'Looks like the Architect is something to do with the Mechanicus. That's not a Mars serial number, though. Maybe Ryza?'

 

GM: All officers bar the Master Enginseer (Xin Ciethan) are present. The Grumpy Dwarf is busy fixing something that's 'gone bost' again. An Arduous (-40) Forbidden Lore: AM, or (-50) Scholastic Lore: AM will reveal more. Common Lore: AM will only reveal the non-Mars serial, regardless of DoS. Assistance may not be granted. The test may be reduced with several hours of research in the ship's extensive librarium, but requires a Trade: Copyist or something similar. Being able to read and turn pages isn't enough when dealing with reference texts!

[A.T.]

Malvolio

 

He wondered if the newcomers understood the task that had been given. Of all the many elements that combined to form a voidship its star-charts could be amongst the most valuable, some even more-so than the technologies of the dark age or the hated xenos.

 

Worlds, systems, even more could hang upon a warp route lost to the ages... then again buried beneath layers of encryption and false data might lay nothing more than a map of chartered space or worse maps improperly scribed or twisted into traps for the unwary by time and the ever flowing tides of the warp. If they were fortunate the breakers yard held them still seeking exhorbitant coin, more likely this would be the first step of many.

 

Peering into the archives of the datavault he searched for the fate of the flotilla itself.

[Mazer Rackham]

Malvolio:

 

The roster of the flotilla lists ships firstly by faction or owner, tonnage, etc. Drilling down a little further lists the fates of the vessels themselves. It lists only Imperial Vessels and makes no mention of the fates of any Adeptus Mechanicus hulls suggested by the Inquisitor's reports or attached information. It does contain a list of hull numbers, one of which carries the notation of the Architect's hull ID.

 

It is apparent that these are holdover data fragments from comm-logs.

 

Imperial Navy Escorts:

Spoiler

Squadron 442 (Vanguard Pickets) 

Imperial Jubilee - (Sword, Lost with all hands, Warp Translation accident M.39) ADDENDUM: Salvaged and refit into Lunar Class Cruiser Justitian M.39

Phobian's Lash - (Sword, Reformed into Battlefleet Gothic, captured by [REDACTED] M.40)

Scholar of Silver - (Firestorm, Missing. Last report 666.666.M.36)

 

Imperial Guard Vessels:

Spoiler

Purveyor of Wrath - (Troopship, Actively engaged in duties around the Great Lesion, M.41)

Juggernaut of Retribution - (Landing Support Frigate, Active, Segmentum Pacificus, M.41)

 

Civilian/Private Class:

Spoiler

Lord Simeon Montfort Culverian Drake, Adm, (ret). Ex-Governer of Pragus Sector (Segmentum Tempestus, Spinward)

Drake's Progress - (Frigate, Missing, No report)

Drake's Lament - (Frigate, Destroyed by Xenos [REDACTED] M.36)

Drake's Ambition - (Cruiser, Verified Warp Signature Drive Ident (Null-G Agglomeration CodeID: Desolation of Innocence)

 

Pilgrim Vessels:

Spoiler

The Unending Praise - (Transport Class, Missing, No report) ADDENDUM: Found beached on Alberon-Theta, Gothic Sector, Loss of life total.

The Valiant - (...[REDACTED]...)

 

Attached Craft:

Spoiler

The First Mandate (Details Enclosed).

Howell's Castille (Ironclad Cruiser, Hull laid down M.29, Called into service for Damocles Gulf Crusade, destroyed by Xenos, M.41)

 

Unlisted affiliation:

Spoiler

Defence Monitor Squadron XV-334

 

 

 

Edited March 27 by Mazer Rackham

[Lord_Ikka]

Castinius

 

"Two thoughts, m'Lord- If this vessel is so important to the Inquisition, why would they not just requisition it from the breakers? Why send a Rogue Trader instead of one of their own? Also, will the breakers be amenable to us purchasing the cogitators or will there be violence?"

 

Castinius' voice ever-so-slightly trembled at the end of the second question, his eyes flaring with passion.

[Mazer Rackham]

The Map Room:

 

De Wiart thoughtfully rubs his chin at de Brae's questions. 'Well that, Castinius old friend, is the rub. I suspect Her Nibs doesn't want anyone official to know about it, which means that it's bloody dangerous to everyone involved.'

 

He gently smooths his beard and moustache. Grooming complete, he sports a rueful smile.

 

'Which also means, we'll likely have to spill a little claret.' He gives de Brae a knowing look.

 

Edited March 28 by Mazer Rackham

[Lord_Ikka]

Castinius

 

Castinius gave a hard grin, his blood rushing at the thought of a fight. The only thing better than the knife-edge of battle was steering a ship through the dangers of the void. Giving his power sabre a small lift to make sure it was loose in it's scabbard, he nodded to the rogue trader.

 

"Do we know anything about this breakers' yard, or the system it is in?"

[Mazer Rackham]

The Map Room:

 

The Seneschal, Kasimir Chekhov, takes over. 'Not that much, Cas. We do know it's supposedly wild territory, and the orbital station is a free port, nominally in control of the Imperial Navy.'

 

'Cheeky' adjusts a facet of the hololithic table to show the planet, and it's orbital platform. The planet is a dusty, dark grey and sulphur-yellow marble, watched over by the single, sentinel space station - which itself is substantial, easily able to berth the Chylde.

 

'Imperial law is...permeable in this place,' Cheeky continues, glancing at the zealot, Kovac. 'And from reports the docking fees are suspiciously low.'

 

De Wiart sniffs, takes over with a business-like mien. 'The Mandeville will be secure enough at the system terminus, but there will likely be some dross lurking.' He punches a haptic rune to reveal the staggered pitch and sworl of the nine planets circling around the star, Demeter. 'Don't like the look of those asteroid shoals between Demeter Eight and Nine. Mark them well, de Brae.'

[A.T.]

Malvolio

 

Malvolio looked up from his records at the exchange between the lord and Castinius. "There are no guarantees that the information of the Mandate is unique to that one vessel, others amongst the flotilla would carry the navigational markings, more than one may have logged the ident of the Architect. There is no knowing how long the search for such a prize might take so all the better if none other knew that there was a prize to seek."

 

Though he would not say as much out loud a Rogue Trader over-eagerly chasing starcharts and vague rumours could look convincingly the fool grasping at empty promises of glory to onlookers, but no so an agent of the throne.

[Mazer Rackham]

The Map Room:

 

Although his gaze does not move from the shimmering panels and panes of light, De Wiart inclines his head to Malvolio. A pleasant chime interrupts anything he was about to say, and he draws a half-hunter watch from his waistcoat, checks it, replaces it.

 

'I...' he begins, but a pained look steals over his face. 'I will retire to my chambers now, to draft treaties and warrants. I am not to be disturbed. Kasimir, stand in my place.'

 

De Wiart nods to his crew, offers a polite smile to the 'passengers', and marches swiftly from the room, the doors closing behind him.

 

The Seneschal looks up. 'Any more questions, ladies and gentlemen?'

[Trokair]

Sola

 

“Cheeky, how are we for funds for repairs, I am sure Enginseer Marlov will have an overly detail and comprehensive list of defects that need replacements or attention only available in a dock once he has finished his current round of repairs and inspections.”

 

“The yards at Demeter-Seven might well have some of what we need. Arriving with legitimate business and seeking repairs would give us an angle of approach to enquire about the chart we are after.”

[Lysimachus]

(OOC: After the briefing finishes…)

 

 

Reynard:

 

So what you're all saying is we know  all…?

 

Reynard shook his head. What a waste of time this was going to be. Those fragmented records weren't going to lead them to anything, except maybe trouble. Better to put his mind to something more useful.

 

Androcles.

 

De Carabas still didn't know if it referred to a man, a ship, a destination…? But he did know that De Grassi had left Damocles heading in this general direction, so there must be a clue to the mysterious name somewhere out here. Or so he hoped.

 

He looked around the map room. The hololith. Cogitator banks filled with the star charts gathered by De Wiart on his journeys. There was even a long shelf filled with volumes of ancient hard copy, each book a huge atlas that opened wider than Reynard could spread his arms. There was no way he could find ‘Androcles’ by himself. It could take a lifetime. What he needed was an expert - someone who would know the worlds and stars of the Damocles Gulf, as well as the ships and captains that plied their way between them. That was Chekhov. Reynard had played more than a few hands of cards with the sly old quartermaster in the last few weeks, and at this point he wasn't really sure who was actually ahead.

 

“My Lord Seneschal,” Reynard offered a florid bow, “I find myself flummoxed by a most intriguing puzzle. I wondered if, once we are underway to Demeter-Seven, you might be willing to help me solve it?”

 

[Mazer Rackham]

The Map Room:

 

Sola:

 

'Cheeky' gives you that smile, the one telling you he's tickled you've used his nickname. You know if it was anyone else, it may have been a stern glare and knives in the Wardroom. 'Our coffers are buoyant enough to afford a few bells and whistles, Ana. I think we're beaten up enough we don't even have to pretend we need repairs.'

 

He finishes this, staring up at the images, a wry smile haunting his clean-shaven face.

 

Reynard:

 

He seems charmed by your courtesy, false or otherwise. Chekhov is, as you have found to your poker detriment, a little hard to read. 'Certainly, good ser. If I can bend myself to the task, I shall. Call upon me in my quarters once we are underway.'

 

'Oh, one thing. I understand you, Mr Kovac and Mr Restal have been helpful thus far. Please consider yourselves to have liberty of the vessel.' That you had the privilege before means little, but Chekhov tosses a glance around the room for everyone else's benefit.

 

He looks around expectantly at the others assembled, face now open, waiting for any further queries, but from the short pitch of his head in surveying the present company, it is clear he wants to wrap this up.

Edited March 31 by Mazer Rackham

[Necronaut]

Petrus

 

Kovac smiled knowingly back at the seneschal when told of the relative lawlessness of the region, and the necessity for operating in a particular manner or pattern.

 

“I served many years amongst the basest born of the Imperial Guard, Lord Seneschal. The average guard regiment is on the best of days a hive of scum and villainy, its currency graft and theft and worse besides. Whatever sins thou must commit will pale in comparison to that which most guardsmen must resort to survive the horrors of war. I hope.”

 

Turning back to the hololith, he scratched his beard and pondered the task set before them.

 

“I hath supped with many enlisted men, and if there is one universal amongst those of that class it is their love of drink and the sharing of tales. I believe we may learn much from the locals, whether sailors or salvagers. A man of the cloth shouldst walk often amongst the faithful.”

Edited March 31 by Necronaut

[Mazer Rackham]

Kovac:

 

'Yes, a good idea. Spread His word, and tell us theirs,' Chekov replies, rubbing his chin.

 

GM OOC: I'll hold off for a couple of days for others to catch up with anything, then move us on.

[Machine God]

Kerr Restal:

 

'Oh, one thing. I understand you, Mr Kovac and Mr Restal have been helpful thus far. Please consider yourselves to have liberty of the vessel.' Seneschal Chekhov tosses a glance around the room for everyone else's benefit.

 

"Spasibo!" Kerr Restal politely acknowledged.

 

 

 

 

 

[A.T.]

Malvolio

 

The others set about their tasks and Malvolio noted that those of Damocles each sought their place, though how each would fit into the weaving threats of the Chyldes' fate was yet clouded.

 

Retiring to the choir Malvolio held council in the great hall adjacent to the primary astropathic chamber, the cards of Emperors Tarot arrayed before him as others chanted His word and held sigils of the Chylde and the world beyond, the air thick with incense and the echo of the warp beyond the thin skin of the star vessel.

 

As the navigator completed the final course correction for Demeter-Seven Malvolio fanned the cards about him into a circle, the planet beyond, one more for the breakers, one for the stars beyond, one always for Him, and one final for the chylde. Face down cards were pulled in turn for each soul that would venture forth from the ship, their fate purposefully left unobserved lest the eyes of the warp follow. No such grace was provided the enemy as the first card was turned and pulled by prophesy towards another.

 

The choir leaned in as each slight movement, hesitation, utterance and twist of flame and shadow in the room was documented by the nearby scribes, but it was the place of Malvolio alone to determine its import...

 

Augury, unfettered.

Psyniscience check (Base 43, +15 Psy rating, +25 Choir rating). Difficulty + 0 (adjusted to -20 for assistance) - final test rating 83 vs difficulty -20.

Roll: 51 - pass with 5 extra DoS (+3 additional for assistance and the familiars bonus). No phenomena.

 

-Final result pass with additional 8 DoS

 

Malvolio gains some insight into :
-the greatest opposition in the attempt to gain the logs at the breakers

-up to eight additional negative forces in play

-the single greatest advantage or tool to aid in the action

-a single sentence of advice

 

(with the shipboard combat psychic powers frequently being 'hellishly' difficult, the astropaths built to use them certainly makes light work of the minor psychic abilities... :p)

[Mazer Rackham]

Restal:

 

Chekhov offers you a brief nod. 'You know some Old Vostroyan, da?'

 

He grins, then makes to leave, letting you all to your own devices.

 

Malvolio:

 

Spoiler

GM: OOC I'll just send you the plot! 

 

I'll keep it esoteric, but give enough clues to reward your rolls. If you feel short-changed, let me know and I'll see what tidbits I can drop your way.

 

-the greatest opposition in the attempt to gain the logs at the breakers

A man who claims to be a wanderer, but is not. He sleeps with one eye open, and his hand in other purses.

-up to eight additional negative forces in play

A Lord of Blue and Gold who serves two masters,

The Handsome Prince who wagers on disaster,

The Sapphire Sword, who thinks he's faster,

The Smiling Lady, in a room of Alabaster.

-the single greatest advantage or tool to aid in the action

The crashing of a gundeck, the noise of naval artillery, a scent that is familiar. A woman's hand may tip the balance, one stained with the ink of calculating bombardments, shunned by her previous masters...

-a single sentence of advice

DON'T OPEN IT. (This is a sentence that hammers out of the aether at you. It burns with an imperative that would shrivel your eyes, were they whole, such is the raw power. However, note that this is such a punchy message, it could cover the whole affair...).

 

[A.T.]

Malvolio

 

The pilgrim inverted, skewed sinister. The infil-traitor was a common sight amongst the star ways but rarely placed atop the wheel. A rival ahead of them in the chase perhaps.

 

The lords oblique, the false follower. The skewed scion, the fool, and the crone sinister. Opportunists all.

 

The hulk dexter. A curious card pulled descending upon the wheel, a waning ally in battle perhaps for battle there would be.

 

The final card... "DON'T OPEN IT", Malvolo slammed it down unturned as the words echoed through the ether, the lesser scribes scurried back unhearing of the words but fearful none the less as the sightless gaze of every astropath looked upon it.

 

Malvolio threw his cloak across the table covering the cards. "The Emperor of Mankind is the Light and the Way. Let the light of his worship shine so that the Emperor himself might see it from his Golden Throne and guide us". There would be no more speculation, no doubts that might cloud the path given. Until they breached the warp the choir would be led in prayer that the Emperors wisdom might be made clear and duty to him be done.

[Mazer Rackham]

Location: Warp Duct #01104-Ordinal-Sigma/Eight - Jump Underway

PSYDUCT/Held: Carthage-Umbra Terminus, Galleo Astropathic Duct Bethor/Ferrox-990/3.

Date: Damocles Orbit +3 Weeks, 3 Days.

 

A plunge into the Warp once again sets the teeth on edge, and presses the souls deeper inside the body of the ship, in turn sequestered within walls of prayer and barely whispered fear. The silent racks of slumbering Murder Servitors stand in serried order as the Machine Priests move amongst them, once more counting, re-consecrating their purpose to the defence of this ship, their home, making sure the new Idents are exloaded to each cortex which may be deployed to a fray on board.

 

It wouldn't do to have the new passengers sliced apart by the Mechanicum's barely-thinking killers.

 

There was a peace in that binharic, a purpose of singular devotion to the art of death - the removal of unnecessary flesh within the organs of the ship a mere serendipitous liberation from weak shackles.

 

In such revelation, they almost do not report the dead Rating found there, cut to ribbons.

 

The mortal crew seem to cluster, huddled in the safe parts of the ship, the servant quarters, the galleys, the unofficially expanded bilges all hoarding contraband or visiting the ship's small chapel. The odd menial attends the medicae centre, with a burn from a welding torch, or cuts from Wardroom Steel. The mood is almost brooding, sullen. The warp oppresses all.

 

The Captain has taken to his quarters ripe with drink, and violence has been heard from within. Armsmen, hand-picked by de Brae stand without the Captain's spacious rooms, grimly staring. Both carry power axes and bolt pistols, wrapped in the hard armour of void-soldiers.

 

The maproom and libraries are occasioned by serfs and the smell of vellum and ancient ink. The soft rasps of huge pages announces the study underway.

 

The Astropathic choir, and the chambers which they are ensconced are invisible without, but within the sounds of admonitions of the darkness and praise of the light, heat the hearth of the crew's hope for a safe passage.

 

GM OOC: Basically a background post to get us moving again, but obviously to allow the Players to wander about before translation in the Demeter system. Feel free to interact or make nuisance (not too much, because you, know getting spaced is bad for the soul) or to pursue paths or interesting plots points.

[Lysimachus]

Reynard:

 

The quarters aboard the StarChylde were quite comfortable. The Captain's, of course, were the most lavish, but the other key officers seemed to do quite well too. Reynard was certainly happy with the room assigned to him, though admittedly he'd slept in places a lot rougher in the last year.

 

As Seneschal, Cheeky's own quarters were among the best and, like the Captain's, were guarded by a pair of hefty looking naval troopers. Reynard approached and offered a lazy salute.

 

“The Lord Seneschal is expecting me. De Carabas.”

 

[Mazer Rackham]

Reynard:

 

A vox call comes through the small, gilt-chased admission grille on the lintel.

 

+Do come in, good man. I've been expecting you.+

 

There's a cut off chuckle as the vox grille clicks off and the door unlocks and opens. Within, a sprawling suite, fitted with couches in finest, richest burgundy leather, several matching bergères, thick rugs, and the gentle tinkle of some kind of ancient chamber musik. Paintings hang on the walls, depicting previous Seneschals of the De Wiart House, but the room, far from being dour and shadowed, is well lit. Possibly to show it all off, or maybe a reflection of the man himself, there are several mirrors, and all cover angles of the room that would be obstructed from view.

 

Chekhov carefully puts down an ancient astrogation sextant. It is partially disassembled, and you can smell lubricants. Indeed, Chekhov's fingers are dark with it. He wipes them on a rag, carefully arranges the work to his liking, and looks up from the huge mesomahogany desk, with bunches of thick papers, all neatly compiled and stacked.

 

'Shut the door, good man, and tell me of your troubles.'

[Trokair]

Sola

 

There was little left identifying the rating, too much had been shredded. She did not think it was one of hers, but she would instruct the gunnery deck chief to do roll call all the same. Technically this was not even her area of concern, but this did not look like an accident to her. If there were hostiles they would need to find them, and if it had been a Geller field breach then that also needed attention.  

[Mazer Rackham]

Sola:

 

GM OOC: There is little to identify this poor soul, except that upon cursory inspection the body is female. You realise anything more will require in-depth knowledge. The uniform, or what remains of this bloody, tattered garb, is the working uniform of the ship. Her flash hood and gauntlets are with the body, still attached to the belt, unworn.

 

Hundreds of dead eyes watch you, a thousand vexed and distorted captures in the optical augurs of the murderers clasped in their deployment racks. Your breath mists in the cool air, the body long still, long cooled and blood congealed.

 

Edited Thursday at 10:22 AM by Mazer Rackham

[Machine God]

Restal:

 

Kerr Restal regarded his Wardroom Steel.

 

With a relaxed manner he took out his whetstone, he re-sharped the blade in methodical circular motions.