[BC] The Blackest Heart (IC)

[Mazer Rackham]

Cyrandras ONLY:

 

Spoiler

GM: No really, only him.

 

Spoiler

GM: I suggest your Forbidden Lore (Occult) would be the Talent used for this. As an ex-Librarian, when you served with the Astral Claws, you would be privy to such matters, and even though the Claws (and Corsairs) were Renegade, they would have still attacked Stealers - they're Xenos after all, you don't stop hating them:

 

Forbidden Lore: Fail, Partial

Psyniscience: Fail, Partial

 

 

It is clear there are pyschoreactive or inhibitor crystals buried in this part of the tunnel which are preventing certainty, or soul-tracking, and the signs on the three individuals - all males - do not indicate definitively any interference with genome. No cult markings of any consequence among the worker and tribal tattoos - nothing sticks out. However, there is a slight, greasy 'discolouring' about the two corpses with scarves, a scent of otherness, you recognise if you will.

 

GM OOC: If you need more, go ahead and PM me.

 

 

 

[Xin Ceithan]

Cyrandras 

 

“ There is something ….odd …about these two “, 

 

Rakash told Hagga and Ukalegon as he thoughtfully rubbed his gauntleted fingers, then wiped them on the scarf of one of the corpses. 

 

“ I have had an odd feeling about this place since we got here, but I can’t quite place it. There is a hint of that here, too. But it doesn’t seem to be anything empyrean. It feels wrong somehow, but it’s much more …corporeal. Some morphic deviancy maybe, or even something Xenos..”

 

He shrugged, then rose up again, reading his weapons.

 

“I am not an Apothecary, but maybe there was more sense to that decontamination glade earlier than I gave them credit for?”

 

The Sorcerer took up his scouting  position again.  

 

“ Just one more reason to get to that launch bay, however. We should link up with the rest of this outfit, get access to better comms, so we can at least tell of us to keep an eye out for it. There might be a bigger problem here than just some un-compliant gangs of void scum ”

 

[OOC Scouting rolls if required:

 

Spoiler

Navigate Surface  56 fail

 

Encounter  18

 

Edited January 20 by Xin Ceithan
Autocorrect derided the names of the noble companions - chastised servobrain and fixed spelling

[Mazer Rackham]

GM: With Assists, I think that's a pass.

 

Cyrandras:

Through instinct and the odd pointer from your comrades, you continue to navigate up. As you do so, you pass through a disjointed segment of tunnel, where a fissure has opened up. Bottomless, it is easily avoided by anyone with the technological capacity or wherewithal, but were you not Astartes, with all the gifts and even curses that brings, you would have surely come to harm and been lost forever.

 

However, there is a bright side in the fact the tunnel has broadened significantly, and now you tread on metalled deck, strewn with dust and pebbles. Even here, just over half way toward your goal, the pulse of power and ruckus of industry form a solid hum in the walls, making it feel less like a secluded tomb, reminding you instead that you walk in a space station.

 

The space opens up and the constant light from eye-saving glowglobes in bulkhead fittings along the wall, greet your ascent from the gloomy depths.

 

GM: We'll hold off any further rolls for the Marines a minute to let the Mortals catch up. Talk amongat yourselves.

 

Edited January 20 by Mazer Rackham
Let there be light

[Lysimachus]

Hagga:

 

Interesting, and potentially troubling, but what Cyrandras thought he felt did make a certain kind of sense? If there were some form of xenos influence here, particularly among those in positions of authority, that might explain their refusal to bow to the Corsairs? A paltry group of mortal pirates would not normally stand against the Astartes of Huron Blackheart.

 

They moved on, crossing a deep, dark chasm within the rock of the asteroid with little trouble, though it made Hagga think momentarily of the Stygian legends about the mouth of the Pit of Hel. Trying to avoid such foreboding thoughts, as they moved on into cleaner and brighter areas of the station Hagga continued to consider the prospect of divisions among its inhabitants.

 

If it were aliens, surely there would be some who would have refused such interference? Whether Secessionist or Chaos cultist, most human renegades were no less xenophobic than the most puritan Loyalist. Would they have been purged entirely, or might some be lying low, waiting for the opportunity to rise against the hated xenos? Could there be potential allies imprisoned within the Brig that appeared on their maps? Again, as they walked on, he expressed these thoughts to his comrades.

 

“Maybe after we take the Landing Bay, we should consider searching the Brig?” he concluded.

 

 

 

Edited January 20 by Lysimachus

[Trokair]

Tarh

 

He waited a moment as the others squeezed by the narrow parts, he had been concerned that Xerxes with his companion might have an issue getting through. He however was no slower than the other two, he must have had the companion for a fair while then to have adjusted so well to the burden.

 

Satisfied that they were through in good order Tarh focused on the way ahead again.  

 

Spoiler

Navigate Surface, Int: 45 +10(Map) = 55

D100: 38, Pass, 2 DoS

Encounter roll D100: 43

 

Stealth,  Ag: 42

D100: 74, Fail, 4 DoF

 

Edited January 21 by Trokair

[Mazer Rackham]

Tarh (and Krokodil 4-2):

 

Levelling out for several metres, the tunnel begins to broaden to where you can't touch the walls with your arms outstretched. The dismal light from the strung together bulkhead lamps seems to recede from the causeway, which continues to be composed of hewn rock under your boots. It is in the sudden size and pools of uneven dark that you kick a loose hex bolt. This would not matter, usually, the tomb-like walls will absorb quite a bit of noise, but this is different.

 

Flying off into the shadows, it hits something metallic with a loud bang, before you hear the creak of metal fatigue and a whole armaplas plate hits the floor, tumbles and then shimmies down a narrow cravasse, reverberating like a cybernetic gammer stuck in a washing machine.

 

In short, the sound is horrific, deafeneing, and lasts quite a while as it travels up and down the tunnel.

 

In the wake of this, there's a pained, pointed silence.

 

Effects: Add +50 (+10 per Stealth DoF BC is DoS weird) to your next Encounter Roll, to give a result between 51 - 100.

Edited January 21 by Mazer Rackham

[Mazer Rackham]

GM: Scouts, go ahead and make your next rolls, please - and if our other Players wish to add ambient narrative, that's welcome too.

[Trokair]

Tarh

 

He knew he had messed up as he felt his boot connect with the hex bolt. Signalling caution to the others Tarh did not even turn round to see if they had seen, they certainly had heard.

 

Long slow breaths of anticipation, yet no enemy came running at the discord.

 

He relaxed slightly, inching forward.   

 

Spoiler

Navigate Surface, Int: 45  saving map for rerolls I guess

D100: 25, Pass, 3 DoS

Encounter roll D100: 86 + 50 = Balrog?

 

In case it is relevant after that encounter roll

Stealth,  Ag: 42

D100: 19, Pass, 3DoS

 

Edited January 21 by Trokair

[Mazer Rackham]

Tarh (Krokodil 4-2):

 

It seems that the noise provided you ith an idea of the tunnels ahead - a strange manifestation of echo-location perhaps. The Four Teachers have granted you wisdom in the ways of wayseeking. You discern a warmer draught, and following it discover a recently hewn short-cut. You estimate it takes several detours and winding paths from your journey to the Comms Suite, and you emerge in what appears to be a tooling room. Metalled deck underfoot, cieling lights, metal hull panel walls. It could perhaps be a starship, the one you just left. It bears many hallmarks of once having been as clean and chipper as the airlock, but the disarray is clear.

 

Tools lie in buckets, drillgear is not maintained. Several vats of water have been corrupted with some manner of viscious liquid, that appear to be purplish in colour, or at least by the flourescent glowstrips above. The tool room measures approximately 30m in length, by 20m across, with a solid headroom given by the 5m floor to ceiling.

 

Lathes, sandblasting catafalques and all manner of powered equipment is in residence, but it remains fairly silent, save for one machine beng attended by a group of miners. Six figures are working lengths of metal into crude axe-rake hatchets, quenching, polishing, cutting. Thier void-hardened minesuits are more than up to the task of protecting them from the sparks and swarf, especially the main machinist, whose shoulders, arms and chest appear to have been reinforced with steel panels. Each carries a sidearm as well, either in a hip, leg or chest holster, along with pouches and a grenade cup.

 

Opposed Awareness: PASS, (Two DoS, Tarh Wins on higher AG)

 

One of them looks up, peers around, but hidden at the tunnel mouth, you are just outside his cone of vision. He shrugs, paying no heed, and goes back to work, applying an edge to the metal maul.

 

They all move with purpose, given over to the task. You can see each has a purple scarf or scrap of ragged cloth abbout their left bicep, the colour has run in trickles to stain their left arm and splash onto their well-worn suits. They all appear to be male.

 

[Xin Ceithan]

Cyrandras 

 

 

….“Maybe after we take the Landing Bay, we should consider searching the Brig?” Concluded Hagga.

 

Rakash nodded.  
 

“I agree. If there is some internal conflict afoot on this rock, the Brig might hold someone who might  offer some more information on the factions involved.” 
 

The Sorcerer looked around, attempting to match their progress with the locator runes on the map overlay of his autosenses.

 

”Or maybe at least someone we may provide us  with some additional distraction…”

 Cyrandras thought to himself. 
 

He pointed in the direction of the next step towards their current objective.

 

”Let’s have a chat  with the locals then.”

 

Spoiler

Navigation Surface: 24

 

Encounter Roll: ….. 24! 

 

(I’ll leave it to the mathematicians to admire the odds in this )

 

 

 

 

 

 

[Mazer Rackham]

GM OOC: Wow lads that's lots of DoS between you..! Anyone would think you wanted to avoid the Balrog, er, trouble.

 

Cyrandras (and Krokodil 4-1):

 

Your aetheric instincts, find a way around, fates perhaps aligning to bring you from the reinforced tunnel you emerged into, to proper hab-block. These are a comingling complex of rooms along a main thoroughfare which expands and branches off with ramps and siderooms. You pass empty offices, ransacked lockers. The main indicators of note here are the stencilled directions on the walls, civilisation cut from the asteroid rock. The hallway is strewn with packing boxes and straw such as found in ammunition crates, and medicae packs have been torn open to extract all the valuables within, no doubt to be shared amonst the plunderers.

 

There are no bodies here - or not immediately evident, but the long sweeping smears of blood on the floor are dried and browning enough to give the idea what happened here was a while ago. The pale white light of before is an arterial red from emergency lamps, signifying a significant event has occurred.

 

Markings for the Landing Bay are cratered by flash-sublimation of lasguns, but it points a damning arrow with a distance of 500 metres. The waypoint indicator on the wall states:

 

"You have reached Junction 24A of Support Corridor 24A."

 

The landing bay airlock is your next stop.

 

The deck trembles with waves of recurring vibration, stirring the straw to wisp across the deck in imitation of breeze.

 

GM: You no longer require Navigation Tests. Your next posts should describe arriving at the Landing Bay Airlock Pressure Doors, at Junction 24B.

[Lysimachus]

Hagga:

 

“Well led, Sorcerer. It seems, in some things at least, your vision is clear.”

 

Rykaz didn't really like commending the witch, not after what he had caused aboard the Avenger... but he had to admit that they had arrived at their target far more quickly than he had expected. The former Astral Claw had found several shortcuts, bringing them to the very threshold of the Landing Bay, and to refuse praise when it was deserved would show a lack of honour on Hagga's own part.

 

He drew his long sword and activated it, watching for a moment as the blade immediately began to heat and redden. In his other hand, his boltgun was ready. He could feel the vibration in the deck - coming from the bay beyond the portal? A sign of enemy activity? Kill-urge flooded his body.

 

“To conquest, brothers,” he offered gruffly, restating his earlier words from the Krokodil. “Death to the foes of the Red Corsairs, and glory will be ours.”

 

[Trokair]

Tarh

 

Creeping back to the others he reported in whispers what he had seen.  The machine room all but abandoned safe for six hostiles.

 

“This way forward is shortest, and with surprise we should be able to level the odds further in our favour. With six of them however there is a risk of the alarm being raised. There are other paths that might serve us better. Thoughts?”

[Necronaut]

Ukalegon

 

Xenos?! Here?

 

Ukalegon sneered in disgust at the thought of these pirates consorting with alien scum, but remembered that it was not uncommon for the Red Corsairs to employ alien mercenaries in their war with the Imperium. Still… They needed to establish a beachhead and secure the landing bay indicated on their maps. Whatever awaited them beyond these doors, human or xenos, was going to be put to the sword. He hoped they were not the only Corsairs to make it to the asteroid intact.

 

He gave Hagga a swordsman’s salute and replied, +Into the breach! Strike hard and fast!+

[A.T.]

Xerxes:

 

"Their proximity to the comms suite make them potential reinforcements. It is unfortunate that the astartes have not yet launched their own attack to raise the alarm." He assessed the weapons of the others judging it meager at best but not loud, perhaps the noise of machinery in the room were to be activated it would conceal any sound of conflict.

 

"What of egress from the room, doors to seal the sound and prevent escape?"

[Mazer Rackham]

GM: To add some information, the toolroom has an entrance where Tarh was, then another directly opposite at the other end. Two more doors are on the left-hand side. It would be a simple matter with Tarh's recon to work your way around to close the doors up/ambush from them (from outside the room). To seal the doors, you will need a Challenging +(0) Tech use or Security Test. Your DoS will set the difficutly to open them up. You will need to either close the doors simultaneously, or do them sequentially (the latter will need Stealth rolls).

 

Edited January 22 by Mazer Rackham

[Mazer Rackham]

Krokodil 4-1 INFO, as requested:

 

The Landing Bay is a large space, a cavern in the rock which has been extended by Machanicum labour into an OCD pleasing, perfectly formed oblong some 600m high, 400m wide and 400m in the beam.

 

There are three distinct levels, which are open, mezzanine type. They are set at 100m, 300m and 500m. These levels or gantries, to be more accurate, conform to the three walls of the bay, providing access to docking cradles, fuel lines and maint bays set onto them. The fourth, open sid eof the gantries is where the large landing bay doors are. The airlock Krokodil 4-1 are at is 24B, which indicates you are on the second tier, with 14B being below you by 200m, and 34B being above you 200m.

 

Numerous indicators report there are mulitple access corridors for personnel and mechanicum assets to attend the craft located in the bays. Indeed, leading to each gantry are other airlocks, A and C on each level (i.e 14A, 14B, and 14C).

 

Finally, there is notation about security systems, but the map fails to explain what they are.

 

Edited January 23 by Mazer Rackham

[Trokair]

Tarh

 

Spoiler

Stealth to get to first door

Ag: 42 + 10(Noise) = 52

D100: 30, Pass 3 DoS

 

The hushed discussion had been short and the consensus to avoid the hostiles for now if they can help it.

Though from the way that Kraggan was gripping his axe, and his earlier demands, he was clearly itching for bloodshed, or would that be oilshed for one of his kind. He was as much devoted to The Warrior as he was to The Smith.

 

“Step where I step, pause when I pause and take care, if we are spotted things will get messy.”

 

He had already had an idea on how to get to the other doors, none the less he paused again at the entrance way of the machine shop. The hostile workers were still clustered where they had been.

 

Forward then, carful steps, hunker down, listen, observe, repeat.

 

    

Spoiler

Further rolls for when they are needed.

Stealth to get to next door

Ag: 42 + 10(Noise) +10(door sealed) = 62

D100: 001! – Well that was probably my lucky roll for the game.

 

Navigating onward 

Int: 45 +20 (signage) = 65

D100: 74

Map Reroll

D100: 83 ... Wrong turn at Albuquerque

Encounter roll

D100: 15 +20 = 35

 

Stealth

Ag: 42 + 10(Noise) +20( 2 door sealed) = 72

D100: 16

 

Looks like I will have gotten us lost, though perhaps Tarh is just taking the scenic route and avoiding hostiles... 

 

Edited January 23 by Trokair

[Mazer Rackham]

Tarh:

 

As you take your wrong turn, you encounter a man at distance, half balancing a box, or crate on his chest, obscuring his vision. It appears to be a box of parts, which requires both his hands to hold. He abruptly stops, and lowers it to his chest, scanning to his front and turning to look behind him, since the neck joint of his suit is not articulated. Approximately 30m from you down a long, straight corridor, he is likely headed to the toolroom. Attired in a miner's suit, like those within the toolroom, he wears his helmet with visor down.

 

Thanks to your sneakiness he does not see you, as you dart into and out of the corridor, but he's heard something.

 

'Hello?' comes a wary, weary, vox-tinged voice through his suit speaker. 'Who's there? Bolts, is that you?'

 

His voice echoes in the partially shadowed corridor.

 

He too carries a purple scarf tied around his left arm, a holstered pistol and axe-rake.

 

Edited January 23 by Mazer Rackham
Any good?

[Mazer Rackham]

Krokodil 4-1:

 

The Airlock begins to cycle with pressure washing over you all as you stand ready. A simple double-step takes the three of you into the port-side compression chamber. As the sturdy pressure doors seal behind you the pale white light is replaced with pooling nitrogen gas around your ankles, when a hololithic alert fires into life in brilliant pixels.

 

< < WARNING: MICRO-GRAVITY DETECTED > >

< < WARNING: PRESSURE NOMINAL--CHECK ALL SEALS > >

 

Caution provided, when the inner-lock opens to the launch bay, you can get a small slice of it's volume. A great void in the side of this planetoid formation, it is a strange coffin for an empty hollow, or would be. The glowglobs and navigation strips fail to illuminate the huge space, but you can just make out that the port half of the landing bay doors is open, the haunting green light of Ithyca's sun ekeing in with poisonous radiation, illuminating you and the rest of the dock. The starboard door is firmly in position, locked and blinking with anchor runes, but all of this is the mere backdrop to the main pantomime which is being tortuously enacted before you.

 

Walking out onto the gantry, the silhouette of two Fury interceptors lurk in the belfry of this tomb, grey-outlined sharks wanting to slip the tank and roam freely, but another lies crashed and broken in the depths, all atmosphere vented, and detritus flung ina shower of confetti - but it is aptly joined by the ceramite spall of the Krokodil assault boat which is impaled on the middle of the Second Tier Deck out ahead of you. It is a broken thing, rent asunder with plasteel skinned off her like peeled tinfoil, ribbons floating in the errant currents and eddies of pressure waves from secondary detonations.

 

The walls live. Long tongued fires burn with acetylene heat, fuel and oxygen lines ruptured, an odd and strange torchlight spoiling the sea-green hue forced into the dock, several dozen metres tall, the plumes wave and snap as kelp. Added to all this is the battle. For in front of you, you can make out no less than three distinct forces at war. A pocket of Corsairs, two of them Astartes, and a handful of void-suited auxiliaries give fire to both agressors, who also trade rounds with each other. Bolts fly with a wicked jet of flame, usually unseen by the naked eye, here thier puissance is given full, deadly glory.

 

They impact above, adding to the shudder of the whole superstructure.

 

Aginst them, and each other, you can see lasguns firing. A good, solid Imperial weapon, it's provenance is once again lauded by the bttelfield it is put to. The low recoil, and decent power is beneficial to both sides of this....battle triangle...and you can see men punched off thier feet, or cored through by molten flash-heat, swaying oddly as magboots clamp them to the deck, small aquanauts at the bottom of a bizarre tank.

 

An autocanno erupts. The flash-bang of the heavy calibre weapon is absent, but the rounds are present nontheless, and they slam into a pocket of men who have pushed off from the third tier gantry. Flak shells, they explode amongst the hapless assaulters, ripping them open to expunge all air in thier suits, along with their red guts. It joins the loose rounds, shattered helmets, and shredded bodies that form the ejecta of humanity clawing at itself and whatever kanker lurks within.

 

All is chaos. All is luck. All is war.

 

Almost at once, there is a pause in the fighting - a brief, but noticeable lull - as you are detected, judged, assessed.

 

Your comm-beads, if you have them register a snooper uplink from a known sigil, the Black Claw of Black Heart. The momentary connection is all the vocal cue you need.

 

+Take cover, for  sake!+

 

GM: The situation in here is exceptionally dire. It is clear the explosions and boarding craft have jammed open the door and caused problems. There are large armaplas crates and plasteel containers which have been locked to the deck near your position, and there are many more floating about polluting the target environment. On the third tier, snuggled up against the door lintel, is an autocannon emplacement which is raining hell on anything moving, but is distracted every now and again by desperate sallies against the void-hardened position. Lasguns and shotguns are also firing from sally ports.

 

GM: All the way above you, in several pockets, are adversaries with strange glyphs roughly drawn on thier arms and helms. The colour is of the scarves at thier left biceps cannot be made out, but the fact one is there should be enough to discern their identity. Another pocket are clustered around the pressure airlock 14 Charlie, and they have a heavy stubber which has significant traverse, and is harassing EVERYTHING.

 

GM: Movement. Essentially the whole dock area is navigable without a jump-pack, ie you can run etc, bearing in mind the rules relating to Zero Gravity in BC Core, p43, 44. You may narratively include a box, body or object with which to arrest yourself/anchor up. Be aware, 4+ DoF and I start rolling Scatter dice...

 

GM: Screaming an shouting in the OOC.

 

Edited January 24 by Mazer Rackham
GM Update

[Lysimachus]

Hagga:

 

Tactical bloody genius, are you?

 

Hagga grimaced. Without replying to the voxed warning, he threw himself forward onto the gantry as quickly as he could in zero-g, ducking into cover so that the closest pile of armaplas crates was between him and the autocannon emplacement. He braced himself against the stack and looked around, already examining, evaluating.

 

The purple scarves held the upper gantry, and the right hand side of the middle and lower levels. To his left on the middle level were the unmarked station inhabitants, and ahead, on the central gantry arm, were the forces of the Red Corsairs.

 

He growled into his microbead, and nodded towards the mining suits to his right.

 

+++I say we are better off in combat with those purple scarves! At least it might make their friends with the autocannon think twice before shooting at us! I doubt the other side will shoot at us either, not while we're killing off their enemies for them?+++

 

 

[Machine God]

Kraggan:

 

 

Following the Scout who had taken a wrong turn and spooked an encounter.

 

A man at distance, half balancing a box, or crate on his chest, obscuring his vision. It appeared to be a box of parts, which requires both his hands to hold. He abruptly stopped, and lowered it to his chest, scanned to his front and turned to look behind him, as the neck joint of his suit was not articulated. Approximately 30m from you down a long, straight corridor, he is likely headed to the toolroom. Attired in a miner's suit, like those within the toolroom, he wears his helmet with visor down.

 

Thanks to Tarh's sneakiness, the man did not see them, as they darted into and out of the corridor, but he'd heard something.

 

 

'Hello?' came a wary, weary, vox-tinged voice through his suit speaker. 'Who's there? Bolts, is that you?'

 

His voice echoed in the partially shadowed corridor.

 

He too carried a purple scarf tied around his left arm, a holstered pistol and axe-rake.

 

 

Seeing the crate, deducing the contents and direction travelled, gave Kraggan an idea. He walked back into the corridor towards the man and using his implants he made the parts rise out of the crate and then they were hurled at the man with force.

 

"Bolts!"

 

 

 

 

 

(Half Action) Ferric Lure

(Half Action) Ferric Throw

Damage: 1D5+3 +4 (INT)

Result: 9 = 5 +3 +4 = 12

 

 

 

 

Kraggan continued walking forwards raising his Fallen Magos Power Axe to bear.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Edited January 25 by Machine God
Typo

[Mazer Rackham]

Kraggan:

 

Toughness test to resist: Fail (by a lot, actually - 97).

 

The box yanked out of his hands, there's a gasp of disbelief as it catapults right back at him and knocks him sprawling. The tools inside fall all over the place, but there is little chance this simple noise was heard over the tooling and screeching in the machine shop.

 

Your victim puts his hand to his visor, suggesting he has been jarred severely.

 

He is at your mercy.

[Lord_Ikka]

The Smiler

 

Moving quickly, Crux'as came to the stunned man's side. His sword slips into the man's ribs. "Sorry my fellow, but we can't have you warning your mates."

 

"And," Looking at the hulking tech-berserker, as the man's life burbles out, "As easy as your axe would be to sever his life, it may be a tad messy. Let us see if there is some where to stash his body."

 

Looking around, they find a floor grate able to be lifted up. With a little shoving and a quick wipe of the streaks of blood, the body was hidden and the area looked much like it had before they came in. 

Edited January 25 by Lord_Ikka

[Trokair]

Tarh

 

Raising his rifle to take a shot, for he had realised that there would be no avoiding this hostile and they would discovered any moment now. Alas he was to slow, sorcery first ripped the box’s content away before throwing it back at the man.

 

Tarh cast about, seeking the Priest that responsible, had the Chosen priest somehow followed them instead of the Hagga and the other, or was this another Corsair, or even a hostile to both the incapacitated man and them?

 

No, Tarh realised as Kaggan strode past him, not sorcery born of the pantheon’s realm, it had been arcane thaumaturgy that the other had employed.

 

Las already raised Tarh scanned the area ahead, in case there were hostiles about to emerge from the shadow, as Crux'as quietly finished what Kaggan had started.