Deathwatch: Murderers in Black (IC Thread)

[Mike Zulu]

Zidemi:

 

Though surrounded by his battle-brothers, Zidemi found himself alone. His perspective was unshared by the others. 

 

He prayed that their final victory would need no explanation. For defeat would allow none.

 

+++

 

Azadth commented on the potential of Machine Spirit corruption within their wargear. Zidemi had heard of such functions during his tenure on Mars; a controversial subject even among the high-rank Magos...

 

Spoiler

Forbidden Lore: Ad Mech → 50 (Int) + 0 (?) = 50 required

Roll d100: 83 = Fail, 3 DoS

 

Unfortunately, it was not a subject he was well-versed in. Nevertheless, he quietly obliged to inspect their wargear, starting with his own...

 

Spoiler

Zidemi will use his Auspex to detect Machine Spirits within their Wargear that may act as kill codes, locks or otherwise malfunction via remote command...

 

Tech-Use Test → 50 (Int) + 23 (Implants+Trapping) + 0 (?) = 73 required

Roll d100: 58 = Pass, 1 DoS

 

 

[Lysimachus]

Zidemi: You carefully examine the machine spirits within the armour of yourself and your brethren. Nothing is revealed within the binharic pathways or noospheric network that suggests that there is any way by which an outside party might be able to shut down or control your armour. Likewise, the even simpler spirits of your bolters and other weapons do not appear to have been tampered with in any way.

 

 

[Mike Zulu]

Zidemi:

 

Zidemi pocketed his auspex, satisfied with the result. "There is no corruption of the wargear spirits," he declared to the others.

 

The Techmarine turned his attention to the annoying vox-ping icon flickering in his HUD. The Supremacy's hail was yet unanswered. The squad had no apparent intention to answer it.

 

"Are we to leave a distress beacon for the fallen?" 

 

[Lysimachus]

Scene 30. Ways of the Witch

 

You stand before a wide, tall arch in an anteroom that adjoins the Prince's throne room. Unlike those that look out over the palace grounds, the interior of the archway is solid, pale stone. Tarvathel stands in front of it, his staff clasped upright in both hands. At the point where the tip of the long wraithbone rod touches the floor you might notice alien carvings in the tiles that radiate out towards the archway and climb the pillars around it.

 

The Wayseeker stands silently for a moment, head down, as though listening for something only he can hear. After a long moment, the archway… changes. Though the stonework in front of him looks just as solid as it did before, an ethereal glow begins to emanate from it, changing its colour from pale sand to shimmering, opalescent white. As it does, Tarvathel nods to himself, a short, sharp movement of quiet, commonplace satisfaction.

 

“The way is now open. The path leads to another gate in a staging area aboard my vessel, Fuiseog de Neamh. I have ordered my crew that they will withdraw from, and stay out of, that chamber. You will remain within it for two days while we travel the Ways to the Alucar system. Once we have entered that system and moved close enough, I will open another path from the staging chamber to the gate hidden on Alucar’s surface. You will go to kill Orochi. We will depart.”

 

He smiles faintly.

 

“And may Hoec grant that our paths never again cross…”

 

Tarvathel steps forward, into the gleaming archway. There is no sense of resistance. Like a thick fog, the solid stone seems to swirl around him as he sinks into it. Then it returns to its previous state, still emanating pure light, but perfectly smooth and motionless.
 

 

 

OOC: If you have any last second orders you want to give to Ibrym aboard the Supremacy, now is the time. If you have weapon-swapping tacticool posts, perhaps they could take place on the Eldar ship, as you will have 2 days of waiting in the staging area? (like a small hangar/guardroom)

 

 

[Machine God]

Asterius:

 

Boldly he stepped through the portal and arrived in the staging area.

 

He was Deathwatch, he was unfazed by the transition. 

 

 

 

[Mazer Rackham]

Azadth:

 

Ablutions completed and humours sanguine, the Mantis Warrior stalked through, palms close to his weapons, expecting ambush, but with enough deference to disarm, should it be necessary.

[Trokair]

Alda

 

The description of Orochi’s former heraldry meant nothing to her, the text she had studied had made no mention, or perhaps she had simply not absorbed the relevant nugget of information. From the reaction of some of the others it was however clear that they recognised something. She would have to ask them later, fill this gap in her knowledge.

 

The news of a Xenos shrine on an Imperial world was distressing, but for more concerning was how the Eldar had described them humans that had made use of the shrine. Servants of Sha’eil. Servants of Hell. For while this could be a dark poetic descriptor of many a fell place and people, Alda felt that the Eldar was being painfully literal here. They had asked for simple truth, and it did not get much simpler. Humans aligned with the evil that lurks in the Immaterium. Servants of Chaos.  What corruption could spring from the use of a Xenos shrine by such?

 

She would have to think on all this, but later, for the Wayseeker had wrought some magic on the archway. This then was to be their way forward. The first two einherjar had steeped through without hesitation, and without apparent rebuttal from the stone.  

 

Not knowing how long this may last Alda hurried forward, lest the magic cease while she was half in the wall and half not.

[A.T.]

Omoc

 

The wisdom of the decision was no longer significant, a rot had set within the inquisition and now the best that could be done was to cut away at any part of it that might be reached. For now that lay beyond the portal, and he watched Alda and the others closely as he followed.

[Necronaut]

Gerhardt

 

Gerhardt grinned madly behind his mask. They were all on edge – the Enemy had played them all for fools, had led them on a merry chase. All that ended now, provided this Orochi was not able to slip away again, and the eldari pirates maintained their trust. Aliens were bad enough, but the TRAITORS could not be permitted to live. 

 

+Fret not, Brother Omoc,+ he intoned, sensing the Scorpion’s palpable disgust and indignation at the devil's bargain which had been struck. +The enemy of my enemy dies second. Retribution deferred is not retribution denied.+

 

He stepped up to the unnatural, shimmering portal and steeled his mind against xenos taint, murmuring partly to himself, +My armour is contempt. My shield is disgust. My sword is hatred.+

[Trokair]

Alda

 

Stepping through the not wall had been strange. Had there been resistance? Or had it just been her imagination and expectation as to how walking through should feel. More telling was the subtle shift in gravity, a sudden slight spring in her step instantly voided, she stumbled, caught herself. The room beyond was plain and sparse. A cargo hold was much like any other, even if the walls and floor were not Mechnaicum stamped sheet metal, and the bulkhead door on the other side of a softer curving design. She had no doubt it would be just as robust, perhaps more so, then any human wrought door.

 

Behind her the wall rippled as the last few of Team Lucifer stepped through. Solidifying into a copy of the wall they had seen in the palace. Some marvel of technology had just happen, but it was beyond her, and the Martian priesthood would no doubt decry it as sorcery. 

 

---

 

Some time had passed and with weary head Alda sought a place to rest. Sleep came quick but fitfully. She trusted that the einherjar would keep watch, with their stamina and enhanced physiology they would not be as beholden to bodily necessities.

 

---

 

Even later still, rested, if not restored.

 

“My lords, I fear a gap in my knowledge that may prove fatal, and would ask that you by my teachers for a while. Some of you recognised the heraldry of this imposter that has taken Jarl Skaayn place. Tell me what you consider prudent, for while I can tell there is ill to what the Eldar described I do not know the details.”

[Lord_Ikka]

Moridyn

 

As the last one through the portal, Moridyn was wary. This was unlike the violent teleportation of the Mechanicum, a smoother experience that made his skin crawl with it's lack of feedback. Still, it allowed them to move faster towards their goal, which was acceptable if not ideal.

[Mike Zulu]

Zidemi:

 

Working fast, Zidemi set the distress beacon on Amaras’ armour. Omnissiah willing, the Supremacy would receive it and send a team to recover both bodies.

 

Throwing caution to the wind, he marched into the eldritch gateway, casting a glance at Moridyn as he crossed the threshold…

 

 

[Mazer Rackham]

Azadth:

 

He paced the room after passing across the mercury-shimmer gate, instantly spotting the small mezzanine, no doubt for light storage. He could see no ladder or lift, but a strange disc on the floor, concentric rings of (I'm assuming the interior is bonewhite, as in most vessels) pale marble discs. Above them, in the...gantry, was a circular cut-out, corresponding to the footplate's dimensions.

 

Weapon drawn, he approached, gently passing his toe over the rune-etched diameter. Sudden lift and vertigo pulled his gyroscopic stabilisers, nearly unfooting him, but instead of withdrawal, he decided to commit, trusting to his harness. With a gentle pressure in his spine as the disk took the weight, it elevated beneath him, the rings lighting up in rapid swirl as they detected his mass, calculated no doubt by whatever djinn-like machine spirit dwelled within.

 

He was lifted whole and smooth, differently to a jump-pack, which gripped the shoulders with iron talons to bear the warrior aloft on flaming jets. This was graceful, subtle, and as the mezzanine came into stepping range, the proxy-wieghtlessness continued steadily, obviously waiting for him to alight.

 

Azadth did so. The slight hum of the mechinsm stilled, leaving only the strange quietude* of this unnaturally smooth runnig vessel. It was a marvel - a xenos marvel - but his practical youthful mind allowed him to admire it all the same. It was momentary - he'd investigated the mezzanine as it gave an elevated position above and facing the crew door into the room. No Eldar was getting in there feeling malicious. He'd have a bolt through it's head before they could shout 'Hands up, Mon'Keigh!'

 

Beneath him, the others cautiously entered, with his protection already in place, as was his duty as vanguard. The Human, Alda, finally keeled over and went to sleep. He put his armour into quiet mode, and faded into the semi-shadow afforded by the strange, almost ossifically grown stanchions, watching over her dreams and body with a prayer to the great Khagan to grant him great vigilance. A futher rote prayer shifted his implants, and he stilled parts of his physical being in order that his mind would travel the teachings of the Mantras, touching the paths of Heaven, opening his unconscious senses completely, and securing his inner peace.

 

For now.

[Lysimachus]

Scene 31. …and Back Again

 

Two days of total isolation. Tarvathel apparently feels no need to provide any updates regarding your progress. Within the confines of the Corsair escort’s guardroom, there is no sense of travelling, no audible thrum of engines, no shudder of warp translation. Only the flickering digits of the internal chronometers of your armour.

 

Just after these devices tick over into the fifty-second hour since the Wayseeker left you, suddenly the inner doors glide open once more. The Corsair psyker strides in alone, with no-one else in sight… though you would be fools to believe that his warriors are not extremely close by.

 

“We have successfully reopened the Alucar gate and entered the system. Our shadowfield is active, and there is no indication we have been detected by your defences. In a few moments, we will be close enough for me to open a path from here into the gate chamber buried beneath the surface.”

 

Tarvathel weaves his way amongst you, moving to stand before the tall gate, just as he did in Prince Kal'li-nath's palace. He pauses there, waiting, staring at a device built into the vambrace of his armour. After several seconds pass, he nods and begins his task. Just as before, the solid matter of the gateway changes, starting to glow with a pale but pure white light.

 

The Wayseeker does not even open his eyes.

 

“Now… begone from my ship.”

 

He pauses, then relents and continues more quietly.

 

“I wish you good hunting.”

 

 

[Trokair]

Alda

 

Her question remained unanswered. Had she misjudged their reaction, were they as much in the dark as she was?  She could speculate endlessly as to their silence, but it would do no good and she could only hope that if they knew, and knew it true, then they would speak in time if relevance arose.

 

 

The hours had been long and silent, the lack of engine noise or vibration, of any sense of existence beyond the room was eerie, and strangely will sapping. If the einherjar conversed they did so over private vox, or while she slept.  

 

On what would be the evening of the second day, by bazaar local time, if she had read her chronometer right, while retrieving some of the rations stored deeper in her backpack, the ones in the side pouch already consumed, her fingers found something unexpected, pulling it out she saw drying leaves. She must have picked them up by accident in the jungle. Reaching in again to seek out and remove any additional foliage, the jungle was behind them now, her hands closed on quite a handful.  Something moved, she felt it wiggle, squirm out form between the leaves and dart away.

She had not seen clearly what it was, too large to be an insect she reckoned, some small jungle inhabitant.

 

Worried now, she dumped the entire content of her bag onto the ground in front of her. There were other hitchhikers, and the ration packs were still sealed, whatever it was had not gnawed away at her emergency supply. Tiding  up again she left one meal pack out. Alkarian Curry the label said, but having never been there, and knowing that other ration pack tasted nothing like what the purported to be she was not expecting much from this one either. One self heat cycle later and her dinner was ready. A grain based paste with chunks of some vegetable or other, all in a worryingly yellow shade, some spice or preservative that had stained the other components into the same unappetising shade. As for flavour, it was questionable to her, but it was warm and filling. As she was finishing the Wayfinder returned.

[Machine God]

Asterius:

 

Impatient as ever, he strode through the portal. As before it was just like walking through a doorway.

 

He was in Bulwark.

 

 

 

 

 

[Mike Zulu]

Zidemi:

 

The alien mechanism is the perversion of the true path...

 

Zidemi spent the entirety of the trek in silent prayer, alternating between the Mechanicus and Promethean Cults as he recited various litanies and commandments.

 

To break with ritual is to break with faith...

 

For the duration of the "journey", Zidemi paid no mind to the others in the chamber. Only upon the wayseer's return did he cease his meditation.

 

+++

 

The xeno's final blessing was strangely... sincere. Sympathetic even? No, there was more to gain than simple revenge; only time would reveal the deception at play.

 

Zidem watched as Asterius plunged himself through the portal, with no apparent concern or contemplation of where they would materialise. He waited for the others to walk through until only Moridyn and he remained, just as they had embarked. With bolter drawn and servo-arm primed, Zidemi departed the Eldar vessel... 

 

 

[Lysimachus]

You pass through the xenotech portal, from the bright, clean hangar into a dark, stony chamber. It is lit only by the glow from the gate behind you, but this is just enough to reveal a perfectly hemispherical space perhaps twenty metres in diameter and ten metres high at the dome's apex.

 

As soon as you emerge, you immediately see that you are not alone. A double line of shadowy figures are crossing the chamber towards you, flanking either side of the path that leads directly from the webway gate all the way to another archway on the opposite wall. Lithe, graceful shapes, racing towards you with a plethora of bladed weapons raised; knives, swords and spears.

 

After only a fraction of a second, the illusion is shattered. The figures are not approaching you at all. They are instead utterly motionless.

Statues, yet so finely carved as to suggest living flesh and lightning fast movement. They stand on low plinths, their still forms somewhere between perfect balletic artistry and raging, bloodthirsty savagery. The sculpture plainly depicts the proportions and armaments of Eldar warriors, though their open-mouthed smiles show pointed canines and imply a gleeful, reckless abandon, both indicators that these stone killers do not represent the strictly controlled inhabitants of the Craftworlds.

 

All of this is the impression of seconds only. As soon as the last of you passes through the portal, its luminescence winks out, leaving you in absolute blackness. Even the low-light sensors of your autosenses cannot enhance what is not there at all.

 

Just as he promised, Tarvathel the Wayseeker has brought you here… and with this promise fulfilled, he is gone.

 

 

[Trokair]

Alda

 

As the second to last to step through Alda had but a fraction of a moment to get her bearing before the paltry illumination of the portal ceased. A fraction too short, disorientated, blinking at afterimages of figures, she crouched down, to be a smaller target. An Ambush!

 

Heart pounding, waiting for the Auto-sense Goggles to kick in, what was taking them so long. A few heart beats later the realisation dawned that it was also too quite. Even the most light footed of opponents would make some noise at the point of attack. All she could hear was the slight hum of the einherjar’s power armour and the thunder of her own heartbeat. Still nothing from the goggles. Reaching up to the controls and adjusting the filters bore little fruit, other than the infrared which cast the einherjar into relief, but no more than that.  

 

Knowing that it was perhaps a mistake she reached into her pack, for it would reveal her position, and ruin the night vision of any of the einherjar if they happened to looking her way. Though, all but one should be ahead of her, looking outwards, while the last was to her side, back against the portal.  Activating the glow-globe while inside the pack, so that at first a light was dampened and only a little spilled. A moment to adjust, then standing once more she pulled her hand out and held the globe high,casting shadows where before there was but darkness.  

[Mazer Rackham]

Azadth:

 

In the flicker-flash of the expiring alien teleportarium, Azadth moved.

 

In one long step, he shifted to cover the mortal, towering above her as she...rummaged for something. His boltgun at the shoulder, it swept the cavern above her head, the Mantis Warrior using his ears more than eyes, tapping the stock of the bolter firmly to the glacis of his right pauldron with a steady cadence.

 

He listened carefully for reverberation from others in the cavern.

 

Awareness (Echolocation - Hearing) Test:

Spoiler

Perception: 70

D100: 13 PASS, Plus 5 DoS.

 

Then Adept Ulfurbur brought out the glow-globe, and it cast his shadow onto the roof, completely eclipsing her smaller one, in the flickering twist. Autosenses resumed function, stealing the ambient light to feed the dark-sight filters. It englamoured the statues with an odd cool cast, quite unlike the lively actinic animation scant seconds before.

 

+That one just winked at you,+ he subvocalised, jerking his chin at the nearest, then peering down at Alda.

[A.T.]

Omoc

 

Two days of careful observation, recording, weighing of each sense, and iron focus upon the rejection of all aspects of witchcraft. Two days for a xenos to seek a weak mind for treachery was their nature.

[Lord_Ikka]

Moridyn

 

As he moved last through the portal, Moridyn looked at the Xenos. It seems to sincerely wish their success, but who knows what goes on in the twisting mind of the Aeldari.

 

He put the thought behind him. He moved into the dark, quickly switching off the actinic glow of his plasmagun's charging vents and mag-locking it to his chest. His shotgun came up instead, a weapon that would only outline his position when it finally spoke. 

 

The glow of the adept's globe cast dancing shadows among the statues. He waited, his body still and posed, shotgun ready for action.