Deathwatch: Murderers in Black (IC Thread)

[Machine God]

Asterius:

 

After he had received the blessings of Adept Ulfurbur he felt at peace. A state that he'd not known since his initial arrival at the Watch Keep of Alucar IV. He'd risen. given a half-bow and the warriors acknowledgment.

 

"My thanks Adept Ulfurbur!"

 

He had shortly departed to attend a shrine alcove to pray and seek answers.

 

 

A few hours later he was on his way to the Forge when he met Brother Azadth coming the other way.

 

"Pray, Mantis Warrior is Techmarine Zidemi in good humours?"

 

 

 

Edited October 31 by Machine God
typo

[Mazer Rackham]

Azadth:

 

His bare feet had registered he bold, unmasked tread of Asterius' approach some moments before the Assault Marine hove into view, but Azadth had not followed the compulsion to fade into an alcove along the way. The Blackshield hailed him, jerked his chin towards the workshop. Azadth didn't stop moving, but slowed to an...acceptable dawdle.

 

'He dwells in good spirits, Brother Asterius,' he replied, disliking his own proffered presumption. He corrected smoothly. 'Yet he is better placed to answer. Regardless, the Sky-Khan favours us with his craft.'

 

He nodded cordially, with his usual gentle smile.

 

'Your wargear will be tended well.' The Mantis Warrior spoke from the heart, thinking of the renewed scythe hanging from his hip.

[Trokair]

Alda

 

Spoiler

Disguise Test
Fel: 37 +20 (Routine) -5 (Asterius in Power Armour) – 5 (Omoc in Power Armour) + 5 (Moridyn out of armour (I think)) =  52                               +/-5 Zidemi?
 D100: 66 Fail… 
I have a feeling a working disguise will help a lot. Fate Point Reroll (1 of 2 Fate points used) 
D100: 42 That will do, I hope.

They were still a day and a bit out from their destination, as the Bazzar exploratory party gathered for a dress rehearsal for their cover story. Walking stick in hand, takin on the slightly hunched posture of the elder statesman that would be her persona she looked over the group. 

The blackshield and scorpion, still clearly Astartes, now wore the trappings of a Mercenary Band that inquisitorial records showed had been operating some 7 centuries earlier, and several sectors away. Far enough in space and time that the odds of running int a genuine member of those renegades should be all but nought, yet recent enough that the trappings sold the cover that these two had were on retainer and that their reputation should still be a deterrent to the overly curious. 

 

Alda herself had the roll of an envoy from a Trading Dynasty, one with ambition to take a world for themselves and make it their home and fortress-port. Someone from wealth, but expendable enough to the Dynasty to be sent to such a dangerous place. Her persons an elderly man from one of the lesser scion lines of the dynasty, desperately trying retain favour even now long past his prime. The long coat she now wore showing signs of use and wear, a slight shabbiness, carful hidden, but not so carefully that an interest observe would see it easily enough. It would have been fit for a true Aristocrat, here kept out of need when others would have had it long replaced, or so the tale was supposed to go. 

Lastly Moridyn, by contrast was cast as the gruff and battle experience household retainer, here to keep the Dynasties Envoy from blunder, and perhaps enforce the will of the heart of the Dynasty and not the Envoy.  
 

OOC: I hope that works for everybody, can amend if needed. 

 

Edit: Disguise armour rolls that I forgot to do. 
 

Spoiler

Head: d5: 1 + 1 = 2

Body: d5: 5 +1 = 6

Left Arm: d5: 2 + 1 = 3 

Right Arm: d5: 2 + 1 = 3 

Left Leg: d5: 4 + 1 = 5

Right Leg: d5: 3 + 1 = 4

 

Edited November 1 by Trokair

[Lord_Ikka]

Moridyn

 

Moridyn wrapped himself in non-descript robes and scrap plate-metal, bandages across his face hiding the unique look of an Astartes. His shotgun is plainly visible, hanging from a strap on his chest while the plasmagun hidden on his shoulder as a hunched back. In short, the Star Phantom looked like a low-budget genemodded bodyguard, perhaps slightly larger than the norm not unexpected among mid-level noble house retinues.

 

 

 

 

Armor rolls (1d5 +3)

Head - 0 (just the bandages)

Body - 6 (3 + 3)

Right Arm - 4 (1 + 3)

Left Arm - 5 (2 + 3)

Right Leg - 7 (4 + 3)

Left Leg - 4 (1 + 3)
 

 

Edited November 1 by Lord_Ikka

[Lysimachus]

Scene 19. Warm Welcome

 

The Needle punches smoothly through the transition from the Empyrean back into realspace and, as always, those aboard can breathe a small sigh of relief at leaving behind the deadly madness of that realm. However, the dangers now ahead of you are only slightly less than the horrors of warp travel.

 

Probably.

 

You each return to the courier’s bridge for the final leg of this latest journey - some of you may now look substantially different to how you appeared as you left Dorghra. There are no obvious signs of security at the system's outer edge, but as you travel in towards the gas giant that is the Bazaar moon's parent planet, the sense of being silently watched gradually becomes more and more palpable.

 

The comms officer lets out a sudden yell.

 

“Incoming signal! Looks like a hololith transmission!”

 

When the transmitted data is played in green-tinged light, it displays a tall, broad shouldered human male, elegantly dressed in a long frock coat in the manner of Imperial nobility, but worn with a casual flair and decorated with detailing that is clearly of Xenos fashion. All manner of jewellery, again much of it not of human origin, adorns him. His hair is long, blond just turning to grey, gathered up in a neat ponytail. His face is narrow, but still handsome. His smile is wide, but it does not reach his cold eyes.

 

“Welcome, travellers, to the Bazaar! Whether you seek ancient treasures, esoteric technology, forbidden knowledge, or warriors to fight your wars, all can be found here!”

 

The man bows floridly and then stands straight, arms wide open.

 

“I am Heinrich Jennings. It is my privilege to serve as the current Master of the Market.”

 

Jennings cannot see you, as the comms officer has not yet created a two way connection, but his next words plainly show that he and his people know that the Needle is there.

 

“I notice that your vessel is of human design, so I would like to respectfully offer some… reminders… about the purpose and laws of this haven. All are welcome. Members of every species are free to buy, sell and barter. The blind xenophobia of the Imperium has no place here. If such words as these offend you, I would advise turning about now. Otherwise, we shall eagerly await your arrival. Your vessel is to be left in orbit around Okina-Ao at the coordinates we shall send. It will have no contact with, nor make any actions of aggression towards, any other vessel already in orbit there. One shuttlecraft may transport your trading party to the Bazaar's spaceport. You may carry whatever personal weapons you wish, and they will not be confiscated from you… but be warned that anyone who uses such armaments to cause trouble will face the justice of the Bazaar's peacekeepers.”

 

Heinrich bows again.

 

“Again, we welcome you to the Bazaar and hope that our interactions will prove profitable to all.”

 

The message cuts off and the comms officer swivels in his chair to face you.

 

“Sirs, there are a set of coordinates attached to the datafile. Do you wish to send any reply?”

 

The helmsman also nods as he receives the information from his fellow officer.

 

“Received co-ords would put us in orbit around the gas giant, approximately 1.4 million kloms from the Bazaar moon, a 106 minute journey for one of our shuttlecraft.”

 

 

So, do you want to respond to Jennings’ message? What do you think of this ‘Master of the Market’ and/or what he said? Are you going to go where you've been told and leave the Needle in orbit around the gas giant?

 

For those of you who are planning to be part of the group going in disguise, how do you feel about the cover Alda has created? Will you go to the spaceport as directed?

 

For those in the strike/rescue team, where are you planning on going? Get dropped off by the shuttle when it approaches the Bazaar (if so, in which environment - desert, jungle or sea?) or stay aboard the shuttle and hide/wait at the spaceport?

 

 

[Necronaut]

Gerhardt

 

Gerhardt had grown taciturn the more they learned about the Bazaar and its myriad denizens and withdrew into himself, such was his growing disgust at the humans who would willingly consort with xenos and live amongst them. Where he had previously thought it might be a thrilling adventure to sneak down to the planet as one of Adept Ulfurbur’s bodyguards, he now recognized that he would be unable to contain himself, as his fury at the rank Heresy this world represented was overpowering. The Black Templar secluded himself within the confines of his cell in prayer, steeling his mind, and he fasted and tried to rein in the burning inferno of inhuman rage that grew in his breast.

 

He would gladly remain with the extraction team, permitting those who could contain themselves amongst the great sea of heretics to protect the aspiring Inquisitrix in their charge. 

 

The projection of the strange little human in his gaudy attire who greeted them as they neared the diseased moon rekindled the fury he had been working to control during their transit, and his manacled fists enclosed his weapons in white-knuckled deathgrips. Were it possible for him to reach out across the vast gulf of space and strangle the life from the debased human who greeted them, by the Emperor would he have. By the end of the transmission, Gerhardts fists were practically shaking and his jaw creaked as he ground his molars with crushing force. His kill-urge was at near saturation levels.

 

As the hololith flickered out again, Gerhardt looked sidelong at the Blackshield Asterius and wondered if the near-berserk warrior would even be able to contain himself amongst the rabble that infested this Bazaar, or his fellow zealot Omoc, but he shook his head and turned to leave, seeking silence and seclusion to resume his endless litanies of detestation, and to prepare himself mentally for the horrors presented by a more ecumenical way of life before they arrived at their destination.

 

He was prepared to put every living creature on this world to the sword personally, if need be.

 

When he reached the claustrophobic confines of his cell again, he knelt and pressed the flat of Drachenhauer's fuller against his helm and he resumed his prayers, and he heard the Emperor's Voice again for the first time in days, and he practically wept from joy.

Edited November 1 by Necronaut

[A.T.]

Omoc

 

Isolated in contemplation for much of the journey, Omoc emerged onto the bridge at news of their arrival. The xenos of this place had already reached out and gripped an inquisitor, and perhaps many others, and could not be allowed to spread further. He trusted no eyes but his own to see this investigation through, no judgement but his own that their return would be untainted.

 

The longer they lingered here the more likely that those below would guess at their purpose and flee the oncoming storm... and this place must burn. Leave subtly to the mortals, let his presence be a challenge to draw their enemy to them.

 

Gone was the bright red and gold of the scorpions insignia replaced with a dull sheen of ceramite and adamant hidden in part beneath the gutted corpse of some xenoform chained and draped across one shoulder, blades and skulls and scraps of armour from a dozen races clattered as he moved. It stung him to display kill markers so unearned but perhaps the bazaar would provide opportunity to refresh the ordos archives.

[Machine God]

Asterius:

 

Attendance at the briefing was interesting, not mention hail from the Bazaar.

 

After the cordial exchange with Brother Azadth, he had spent some time in the Forge talking with Techmarine Zidemi about armour options and the mission. In the end he had replaced his Deathwatch Pauldron with a Mk V Pauldron. He'd opted with a bronze respray of his armour and power pack minus his jet pack. To his Blackshield he had replaced the red field and applied a robust black saltire to hide the Bull that he was not allowed to paint.

 

He'd gladly accepted the Mercenary Band trappings provided by the Adept, he chose a chainmail skirt and a bear hide which he wore like Vafri.

 

"Adept Ulfurbur, Techmarine Zidemi extends his apologies but he will not be attending as your retinue. He thought that he would stand out too much and he was not happy wearing another chapters colours when I mentioned the Black Dragons."

 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

"The blind xenophobia of the Imperium, Ha! Certainly not, we're operating a degree of laissez-faire during this mission." Asterius accented the speech-marks with his Chainswords.

 

"Perhaps we should ask this Jennings does this include the Great Enemy? I would hate into bump into some Night Lords or Iron Warriors on this mission. Xenos are one thing but Chaos would really test the boundaries!"

 

 

 

 

 

Edited November 1 by Machine God
too not to

[Mazer Rackham]

Azadth:

 

He watched impassively, as the gaudy fop mewled and threatened, wondering if the man was even real, if the message was a recording. One-hundred-and-six minutes away from the advance party. Rapid reaction was out of the question unless the shuttle sat upon them as a matron Ghāz.

 

Fate had spoken, they had to play it out as best they could.

[Machine God]

Asterius:

 

"So it would take a Hundred and Six minutes to get to the Bazaar by shuttle. If we had coms and had to make a fast getaway, how quickly could The Needle get to us?" 

 

 

 

 

[Lysimachus]

The helmsman frowns thoughtfully.

 

“At top speed, sir? A matter of a few minutes. But… from a standing start, in orbit around the gas giant, it would take some time to accelerate. So perhaps thirty minutes?”
 

[Mazer Rackham]

Azadth:

 

Better by half, but still too slow. By the time the QRF got to the party, they would likely be just in time to gather warm corpses. He didn't mention that.

 

'Throne guard you,' he told them instead, regarding the Brother Astartes in turn.

 

He folded his arms, frowned. A sneaking suspicion dogged him that the port authorities might like to 'make an inspection' which would of course incur a 'service charge'. Pirates were as they did, no matter how much glitter they were dipped in.

 

His dark mien broke as he watched the masquerading Ulfurbur gad about with her false ailments under copious concealing clothes.

 

'Be careful,' he said. He could trust himself with no more.

[Trokair]

Alda

 

Taking a moment to compose herself, this would be the first test of the persona she had grafted for the mission; nodding to the comms officer she stepped into view of the hololith recording mechanism. She had practised the voice for a few hours, and the voice modulator worked into the synthskin masked had worked fine then.

 

“Greetings, I am Godfrey Na Sylt-Lingon.” She spoke in High Gothic, then bowed stiffly, leaning into the cane. The elder aristocrat, determined to follow etiquette but not quite managing the full movement of the formal bow.

 

“Envoy for his Greatness Balthazar de Lingon the twenty third, of the Lingon-Sala Trade Dynasty,” she continued in high gothic, “As one Gentalman to another, I request that a translator for the myriad of non-human tongues be provided for the Dynasties sole use for the duration of my visit.”

 

 

[Lysimachus]

After a few minutes, enough for your transmission to reach the moon and a reply to be sent back, another voice speaks. It is not that of Jennings himself, but it has a similar tone of glib welcome and cool confidence, though it perhaps lacks just a hair of the Master's arrogance. The reply is given in flawless High Gothic.

 

“Of course, my Lord Godfrey. As a new visitor here, you will be provided with a Facilitator, who will serve as both interpreter and guide to the Bazaar. If you share with them what you seek, they will be able to direct you to wherever it can be found and assist you in any negotiations. Your Facilitator will be waiting for your party to arrive at the coordinates previously transmitted to you.”

 

[Machine God]

Asterius:

 

He'd missed the end of the Ork fight, but he'd fought them many times and noted the importance of the item that he had asked Techmarine Zidemi to craft.

 

On the way back from the Forge he called on Brother Moridyn to pass on a piece of kit.

 

 

He knocked on the wall outside of Brother Moridyn's cell.

 

"Brother Moridyn I bring a present from Techmarine Zidemi." 

 

He handed the studded leather collar to the startled Devastator. "The vox-coder that you asked for."

 

"If it will startle you think what effect it will have on the Xenos," said Asterius from behind the Ork Iron Jaw bolted onto his helm. He'd painted the jaw red with black teef.

 

 

 

 

Edited November 7 by Machine God
Typo

[Lysimachus]

Scene 20. Subtle Planetfall

 

As promised, the shuttle trip between the gas giant and its moon lasts just under two hours. Your transport is much like its parent vessel; fast and sleek but otherwise deliberately nondescript, and much better armed than one might initially suspect. Far smaller and lighter than the Iron Sabre, it nevertheless has sufficient cargo and passenger space to carry your entire unit of eight Astartes and one Inquisitorial Agent.

 

Flight Lieutenant Lilya Vora, who has transferred across from the Supremacy in order to serve as your pilot, aims for the blue southern sea bounded by its surrounding greenery like it is a bullseye. When the swift lander finally enters the moon's orbit, with casual skill she tugs on the control stick and rolls her craft suddenly into the downward pull of gravity and the fires of atmospheric entry.

 

The shuttle drops like a stone for several minutes, falling and falling until it is less than a hundred metres above the shimmering surface of the sea. Then another pull on the stick and a short burst from its retro-thrusters brings it level. Vora flies low, less than ten metres above the turquoise blue water, aimed northwest towards the coordinates of the Bazaar spaceport.

 

“Thirty kloms to coords!” she yells into her headset.

 

OOC:At this point, for another minute or two, due to the moon's curvature you are in a LoS blackspot to any augurs based at the Bazaar. If the strike/rescue team are planning on bailing out into the water for a submerged approach, now would be the time?

 

As mentioned, this will require an Ordinary (+10) Ag Test. As you are jumping into water, and for simplicity rather than working out fall damage, if you fail the test you'll take 1 Wound, plus 1 for each DoF. This is unaffected by TB or AV. Gerhardt and Amaras have jump packs that can slow/control their descent, so they don't have to make this roll.

 

 

 

Infiltration team:

 

The shuttle hurtles onwards over the sparkling waves, regaining altitude as it goes. Something glints at the horizon - sunlight reflecting from a far-off object. As you move closer, it is resolved as the metallic spire of a tall tower. The distance continues to shrink and more of this structure, and those around it, is revealed. There are now several towers visible, each of wildly contrasting architectural design - some slender and graceful, some crude and squat. However, the lower levels of the Bazaar cannot yet be seen, as a long, gothic-styled wall, four metres high and complete with gates and flanking bastions, is constructed all along the beach front and blocks your view.

 

Moments later, as your shuttle passes northwards over this boundary wall, you can look down onto the xenos haven from above. The Bazaar covers an area of perhaps ten square kloms, filling a loosely triangular space where a jungle river delta flows out into the sea. Most of the natural flora has been cleared, leaving the delta islands free to be built upon. The city is a maze of narrow, sandy streets, and countless bridges crossing twisting riverlets that carry water from the jungles out to join the sea. The buildings, other than the towers you saw from a distance, are mostly one or two storey, with awnings strung between them. Beneath the shade of these squares and triangles of material, you might be able to see the movement of crowds - though from your height it is impossible to pick out individuals, or to know what species they might be.

 

The coordinates Jennings sent to you are located to the north-west of the Bazaar. Midway along the right hand side of the delta ‘triangle’, the city wall bulges outward far into the surrounding jungle, a wide field of open land that has been scoured clean of vegetation and pounded flat. Spread out across this empty plain are dozens of shuttlecraft, carefully spaced out as though to give each a wide berth from the next. The designs, colours and insignia of these vehicles are staggeringly diverse. Some are recognisably of xenos species already known to the Deathwatch, their shapes suddenly calling back to your minds the hypnomat learning that you received at Alucar. Others are utterly unfamiliar. The Vostroyan pilot points to an empty spot at the southern end of the field.

 

“Coords put us there. Do I land?”

 

 

 

 

Edited November 8 by Lysimachus

[Lord_Ikka]

Moridyn

 

"Affirmative. Land at the designated coordinates."

 

A thick buzzing lay over Moridyn's altered voice. Pitched higher than what was his natural tone, the mechanical vox-coder gave the marine a harsh, metallic monotone. He revved the chain-bayonet on his shotgun to make sure the mechanism was clear.

 

"We should be ready for anything."

[Mazer Rackham]

Azadth:

 

The shuttle swooped in low over the water, and he punched the release latch, swinging open the side door. One quick check of all his gear and pouches to make sure all was on tight, and he took a simple step out, no hesitation, plummeting into the opalescent sea, arms folded, knees and ankles together.

 

AG Test: 65+10 = 75

D100: 016, PASS, 6 DoS.

 

Breaking the surface cleanly, when the water closed over Azadth's head, it might have been he never existed. Peering down, all that was below was a darker shade of the turquoise tapestry of Neptune's demesne. His HUD tracked his depth, the current and pressure externally as well as within, the numbers gently ticking up as he sank.

[Lysimachus]

Infiltration team: Vora nods at Moridyn's order and calmly begins landing procedures. Your shuttle moves in and starts to descend. The pilot looks out of the armaglas canopy and grins bleakly.

 

“Welcoming committee, my Lords.”

 

On the ground near your parking spot, a half dozen figures stand waiting. One seems to be a human, but the others tower above him. Your craft finally comes to rest on the bare earth, huge turbines gradually slowing, and you can see more details.

 

The man is quite small, but plump beneath a simple blue robe that is blown around by the dust storm created by your arrival. His round face, emphasised by a shaven head, wears a well-rehearsed smile and his hands are held open in a gesture of welcome.

 

The figures around him are… less friendly. Hulking shapes, with gnarled green skin and massive plate armour. Each wears a heavy helm with a single long eye slit, and open lower fronts that reveal their monstrous, toothy jaws. Orks. Big ones. Their warplate is pure black, shiny as a beetle’s carapace, though just as crudely made as you would expect from their kind. They wear no glyphs or other markings, except that their elbow and knee guards, where they wear such, are painted a bright, garish yellow. Their weapons are mostly typical of their race, shootas and brutal looking cleavers, but two of the brutes carry heavy mauls and tall shields apparently made of scrap metal, again painted black. The Orks wear a wide variety of trophies taken from many different species; skulls or hands, pelts or looted trinkets. Oddly, however, though still menacing, they seem to lack some of the battlelust that is normally so self-evident among their race. One might even think they seem slightly… bored?

 

The tallest of them steps forward, with the robed man just behind him. The veteran Ork casually lifts the black helm from his head and hangs it from his belt, revealing piggish yet calculating red eyes. He takes a deep breath and bellows.

 

“I iz Sarjent Murtrugg ov Da Biters, piece-keeperz ov da Bazaar! Welcum! Beefor I iz allowd ta let ya inta da Markit, I iz orderd by Lord Jennings, Masta ov da Markit, ta serch ya ship fa anyfink dat mite harm any ov ‘is uvva gests. Pleez shut orf ya enginz an’ stand aside so my boyz can enshur da sayfty ov all!”

 

Murtrugg looks smugly around at his followers, seemingly pleased that he has been able to successfully remember and complete this lengthy announcement. Then he looks back at the shuttle, eyes narrowing as he waits to see what new visitors will emerge.

 

 

[Machine God]

Asterius:

 

Ork peacekeepers? 

 

Remembering his vow to the Adept enabled him to push the red mists deep into the shadows of his mind. 

 

He disembarked from the Shuttle down the assault ramp.

 

He took a place to the left of the ramp and stood in a defiant pose of belligerent readiness. 

 

He looked across at the Orks and their Pet. 

 

Asterius was silent. 

 

 

 

 

 

[Mazer Rackham]

Azadth:

 

Scrappy cluds of metamorphic and igneous rock jutted up in tumorous scabs on the skein of the sea-desert slowly rising to meet him. Fluttering fronds of anemones tangled and streamed in the air-starved paradise, soaking up the mineral salts his HUD told him swirled through the current. Temperature at the depth was good, possibly thanks to a jetstream from the equator or possibly a nearby thermal vent - albeit proximity on a geological scale meant several thousands of miles.

 

Azadth absorbed the meeting of silt and sabaton with a flex of his knees, coming to rest a short stop from a pillar, bedraggled with kelp strands stabbed and trussed in place by what appeared to be razor-sharp coral formations. A silver shoal of shimmer-fish - he knew not the biological name - hurried past this new intruder to their watery abode, distracting him but for a moment.

 

A solid clang against his left greave brought him back to the present, and he looked down to see a burly and agitated crustacean the length of his arm, objecting to his trespass by thumping a mallet-shaped appendage against his leg. It backed off as he loomed, antennae long stalks feeling the draught of the mire, strange, beady eyes peering up at him in what he took for disapproval.

 

The creature darted forward again.

 

Clang!

 

Thunk!

 

'Why, you little-'

 

Azadth reached down and flicked it in the face, which sent the thing scampering back to it's burrow, glowering at him from the crevice. Drawing his boltgun and attached grenade launcher, he menaced the beast until it vanished altogether.

 

+Brothers,+ he voxed to his comrades, +I have found life down here, and if it is not careful, our evening meal.+

 

[A.T.]

Omoc

 

More orkoids and curiously tame, perhaps past suggestions of plots and dealings with their kind had merit. Standing to the right as mirror to Asterius his gazed scanned across the landing zone recording every detail for future prosecution. Regardless of outcome the face of each and every human here would be regarded in detail by adepts of the inquisition that their movements and their kin might be discovered and their heresy cut from the body of the Imperium.

 

Those who would burn here under the fire of the navy would be envied by the rest for the fortune of such a quick and merciful death.

[Necronaut]

Gerhardt

 

Gerhardt waited near the back of the queue with Brother Amaras for those not equipped with jump-packs to abseil from the shuttle and plunge into the depths of the briny ocean. With a nod to the apothecary, Gerhardt stepped out of the rear hatch into nothingness, firing a short burst from the twin jet engines mounted onto his armour to arrest his fall before slamming into the inky water with the force of a breaching cetacean.

 

Ceramite plates compressed against one another and the sealed bodysuit and his flesh beneath, and he wondered briefly if he would be crushed like putty in a child’s fist. A few tens of meters ahead of him, he saw Brother Azadth and the rest of the squad touch down into the murk and subaquatic muck, the lights and waste heat from their armour lighting up his HUD as his sensory suite automatically toggled over to a low-light mode. Eventually his own boots sank into the layers of silty mud and, with some effort, set off after the others with muffled popping squelches as his massive sabatons lifted free and plunged anew into the sticky seabed.

 

The road to redemption was paved with slime, it seemed.

[Trokair]

Alda

 

Uruks, and behaving civilised, well cordial or mercantile where perhaps a better description. If Uruks were a part of the permanent population here, and employed as peace keepers no lease, then perhaps that shaed some light onto the previous encounter, that those Uruks had been hired, of sorts, to attack the Bulwark.

 

Stepping out of shade of the shuttle interior onto the ramp Alda paused; looked around in a slow and measured manner, completely ignoring the Uruks in front of them, and took a deep breath. Savouring this new place, and fresh air after the stuffiness of ship life. Or so she hoped the impression presented itself to the onlookers.

 

Softly, almost conversationally, she spoke as Godfrey in High Gothic.

 

“Tell the...” here a pause, let them think the Envoy was searching for a polite term in the face of any culture shock an Imperial Nobel might encounter here, “... Inspector, that only one may come aboard, and only in the presence of my adjutant,“ here the walking sick dipped slightly to indicate Moridyn a few pace into the shuttle hold, “or one of the Praetorians.” A slight tilt of the head one way, then the other, left no doubt that the later referred to Asterius and Omoc, standing guard to the shuttle ramps flanks.  

 

Let’s see what the blue robed Translator would convey to the Uruk.

[Lysimachus]

Infiltration team: As Asterius descends the ramp, followed by Omoc, the greenskins’ demeanour changes immediately. They look at the Devastator's heavy bolter and the Assault Marine's crude iron jaw with wary readiness, and at least a hint of pleasure at the possibility of a decent fight.

 

“...zoggin’ eck,” Murtrugg scowls and mutters, “...Beakies.”

 

He scowls even more when Alda, flanked by Moridyn, also appears and begins speaking in a language he has no hope of understanding. With a grunt of irritation, the Ork looks around for the robed human, who is already moving smoothly past him to offer a deep bow. The rotund man replies in perfect High Gothic.

 

“Lord Godfrey, I assume? I am Facilitator Bouchard. Your request seems entirely reasonable to me. Please give me a moment…”

 

He turns to speak to Murtrugg, switching to Low Gothic. His smooth tone changes too, becoming more guttural.

 

“Sergeant, one of your squad,” he holds up one finger, “will search the ship. That man,” he points at Moridyn, “will go with them. The rest of us will wait here.”

 

Murtrugg shrugs and nods, waving one of his boyz forward. Bouchard switches effortlessly back to High again.

 

“I must apologise for the necessity of such a search,” he sighs. “You would be surprised how often first time visitors try to do something foolish, like bringing in an assault force to attack us… but I do not believe someone as obviously well-mannered as yourself would act in such an ignoble way. However, perhaps we might use the time wisely and speak for a few moments while we wait for the Biters to finish? If you can tell me what you seek from the Bazaar, I will be in a better position to assist you in obtaining it.”