[BC] The Blackest Heart (IC)

[Machine God]

Kraggan:

 

+Yes, of course Xerxes. I'll just snag some more data.+

 

He jacked in to gain the deck and tunnel plans. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

INT49 +10 (Tech Use +10) +10 (Combi-Tool) = 69. Result: 43, Pass 3DoS

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

After he extracted what he could, he instructed an internal picter to watch out for the arrival of Hagga. 

 

+Yes, I got them. We need to get away to somewhere solid.+

 

 

 

 

 

 

[Lysimachus]

Hagga:

 

Hagga nodded in sudden understanding, even as Rakash delivered his ultimatum. He held up a hand to make the Corsair wait, keeping his eyes locked on the mortal’s.

 

“They almost had you, didn't they, lass?” he half-whispered. “But you got away. Brave. Honour to you for not letting them win. Don't let them win now, little Seryna. Tell us how we can find them, and I swear we'll see every last one of them burn. We'll take vengeance for you and yours. All you need to do is point the way for me, little one. Which way? Trust me, and I'll do the rest.”

 

 

 

[Mazer Rackham]

Hagga/Cyrandras:

 

Seryna slowly comes back to herself. She stares dumbly at the question posed by the Sorcerer, it is a nuanced demand beyond her current fortitude. The fact she killed them to help you plays out as confusion on her face.

 

She comes back to Hagga. 'No, I didn't escape. Nothing brave about me. Caleb came, there was gunfire, explosions, then him.'

 

Here she pauses, a wan smile trying to find her lips and blossom into more.

 

'I see them in my dreams. I hear them in every tunnel. I can feel them...' she touches her throat...'in my skin. Only Caleb can touch me. Only Caleb.'

 

She lowers the gun, using both hands to cuff away tears, her resolve rekindling at Hagga's words. 'I...yes. Yes, I'll show you, I'll find Caleb, then you can...you kill them. You kill them all.'

 

Seryna grips your poleyn, and huckles out of her refuge.  She straightens, pulls a voidsuit from a cabinet and clumsily dons it. As you all move towards the exit, she gives Ukalgon a wide berth.

 

Kraggan:

 

You manage to acquire the immediate floor plans including some sub-strata, but your command to the picter is fruitless, it returns a simple error. Once the failure report is delivered, the power dies completely, plunging the bunker into stygian gloom, illuminated only by the half-light coming in from the corridor.

 

You remain connected.

 

Something drips onto your head, directly above the pulpit. It's thick like oil, but smells faintly of something fleshy, meaty. Stringly globules catch the light in silver-grey splash as thy patter across your shoulders, and the deck.

 

GM: Krokodil 4-2 has cut this very fine. I have allowed several delays, but now the time is up. Using the Initiative Order as it stands, I will now roll for the new Adversary.

 

GM: Players will await instructions.

 

GM: @A.T. are you still outside?

 

Edited February 5 by Mazer Rackham

[Necronaut]

Ukalegon

 

Ukalegon withdrew at Hagga’s instruction and set about giving the recovered boltgun a more thorough inspection to take his mind off of Seryna’s distress. All appeared to be in good working order despite outward appearances. The remnant of the chapter device, chemically etched and bound into the ceramite of the weapon’s casing, troubled him, as if no amount of grinding and ablation would fully remove it. Was this some sort of omen?

 

Perhaps the sorcerer would recognize the horned skull device, for it was not one he had any passing familiarity with. Certainly not one of the former Maelstrom Warders, certainly not…

 

Ah, of course! The Exorcists...!

 

A flood of memories from that benighted time resurfaced in an instant with a bit of concentration. He had not crossed blades with them during the War, but had been dimly aware that they had joined with the Imperial belligerents in the conflict shortly before he and his brothers had been laid low.

 

An ill omen indeed, or perhaps a cruel twist of fate that he, now a renegade, should inherit the stolen weapon of a dead loyalist.

 

Moments later, his suit’s machine spirit’s diagnostic auguries completed and informed him of the damage he had sustained during his ill-fated first encounter with the genestealer hybrids. In addition to noting his cracked helm lens, the report indicated that one of the fuel lines on his jump pack had been compromised, plus a stabilizer flap had been rendered inoperable.

 

Ah. That would explain the reduced output.

 

He blink-clicked away the read-out with a mental command to the machine spirit to reroute power output, and watched Hagga attempt to entreat with Seryna, trying to coax her out of her stupor, but he could see that her mind, her resolve, already near its breaking point, had finally snapped. His twin hearts sank at the pathetic sight of her, at the damage he had unwittingly caused this innocent mortal.

 

For those we cherish…

 

Eventually the Executioner's entreaties got through to the poor woman, who emerged and took shelter from him in Hagga’s shadow. Good. The longer they waited to link up with the human contingent of their boarding party, the greater the odds they might be devoured by the foul xenos that infested this Brimstone. 

 

Perhaps he would be able to make amends with her at another time. For now they had xenos to purge.

 

He stowed his bolter and drew his two vicious remnants of the Lamenters’ one great armoury, now entrusted to his care, for foul or fair. Chainsword and infernus pistol at the ready, he voxed the other two with a barely audible snarl intended mostly for himself, +++Let us be off. I will take the van.+++

[Mazer Rackham]

Krokodil 4-2:

 

GM: These instructions are for the Mortal Players only. I will detail specific guidance to specific Players as appropriate, per convention by listing prose and any rules proselytizing under the subheading of Character name.

 

Combat Considerations:

 

• Environment:
  • It is half-lit, this means the penalties to Tests work as follows:
  • Spoiler

    FOG, MIST, SHADOW OR SMOKE (BC Core)
    Ballistic Skill Tests made to attack targets concealed by fog, mist, shadow, or smoke are Hard (–20). While a character is concealed by fog, mist, or shadow, Concealment Skill Tests are Ordinary (+10).

     

    DARKNESS (BC Core)
    Weapon Skill Tests made in darkness are regarded as Hard (–20), while Ballistic Skill Tests are regarded as Very Hard (–30). While a character is concealed by darkness, Concealment Skill Tests are Routine (+20).

     

    After careful consideration, I will rule thusly:

     

    Because of the half-light, each Difficulty for the actions listed in these two sections as quoted above will be reduced by One Step, (-20 becomes -10, etc) with the Highest Difficulty applying. Equipment providing Dark Sight, or Thermal VIsion suffer obscuration from the Halon gas and smoke fog, and do not suffer any Penalties for fighting in Darkness.

     

  • There is a miasma of halon gas. Not only does this incur Obscurement, but also Fire or Flame Attacks will cause damage on initial rolls, but do NOT set the target on fire.

 

• Adversary:
  • The enemy causes Fear (2), which means all Players (Heretics) must make a Challenging (+0) Willpower Test at the beginning of their Turn, or suffer the effects of Fear. Only Fearless negates this - Jaded does not cover the brick inducing otherness of the Alien.
  • The Enemy has rolled 17 for Initiative.
  • Xenos Corruption: If a victim takes 1 or more Wounds from a Biting Attack to the Head, i.e Standard Attack (Teeth), he must succeed at a Challenging (+0) Toughness Test or become a host for the virulent contagion.

 

GM: Further discussion, shouting or screaming in the OOC.

 

Edited February 6 by Mazer Rackham

[Lord_Ikka]

The Smiler

 

This was not his element. The flickering light, the haze of smoke. He belonged with the highest and the lowest; the cultists sacrificing and scarifying in the obscura dens, the firebrands and deluded madmen plotting revolution in hidden rooms, the merchant princes and nobles drinking and whoring their sanity away unknowingly. This crass battlefield belonged to his companions who were armed with the gifts of combat and bloodlust.

 

The Smiler's eyes darted through the gloom, seeking an enemy or target. The short dueling saber was steady in his hand, though the palm holding it was decidedly clammy. Lords of the Warp, give your supplicants the knowledge of what is to come and what will be.

 

A prayer to the Gods was never a bad idea...

[Machine God]

Kraggan:

 

Blood dropped on his head and shoulders from above. 

 

It matters not from whence the blood flows. 

 

He was anointed. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

[Mazer Rackham]

++ STRUCTURED TIME RESUMES ++

 

Initiative Order:

'Mutant' 17

Kraggan 16

Crux'As 12

Tarh 9

Xerxes 7

 

Mutant:

The large shape hurtles at the victim below, a dark, inky blot in the murk.

 

GM: @A.T. go ahead and resolve Overwatch.

Edited February 6 by Mazer Rackham

[A.T.]

Xerxes

 

The mutant, xenos, or malformed human was little more than a in indistinct heat pattern as it leapt from the vent. Arcs of lightning from the tech-adepts implanted weaponry cut shallow tracks along the vent barely catching a trailing limb as the target dropped amongst the rest... at this distance it was too fast and too well concealed but it was at least alone for now.

 

Overwatch.

BS 41 +5 compact, +10 range, +10 standard attack, -20 conditions = target 46

 

Roll: 21 = hit

Damage = 1+3  = 4, Pen 0     -don't think that'll be quite enough but perhaps it'll burn a dodge :p

 

Target must make a pinning test and a toughness test vs shocking.

[Mazer Rackham]

Krokodil 4-2:

 

Mutant:

The attack is a surprise, certainly, but as it has no effect, the brutal beast shrugs it off...

Toughness Test: PASS (just!)

Dam: 0

 

Lightning flares across the room, adding an azure taint to the air and fog. Each electric tendril is perfectly visible as it creases the tableau, and strikes the monster hurtling at Kraggan. For a second, the size of the thing is revealed. A hulking monster with four arms, two legs and a massive, bestial face over-replete with needle teeth, dripping saliva. The eyes glow in amber flash, and the concept of this insectile horror comes to fruition as something beyond your wide ken.

 

The rapid descent of such a beast should have been greeted with clumsiness, a loping tumble - anything to reflect it's size and speed. None of those things occur.

 

It is as quick as the lightning Xerxes has just summoned, and those terrible eyes containa depth of malice and intelligence that is altogether fearsome in its own regard, and it plunges a taloned claw right at Kraggan's centre mass, seeking his - mechanical - heart.

 

Mutant??:

Full Action: Charge Kraggan

WS: 65 +10 (Charge) = 75

D100: HIT, Body

Dam: 21, Pen 5

 

[ ] Kraggan

[Machine God]

Kraggan:

 

He looked up and roared at his opponent as it dropped. His optical mechandendrite flashed out and illuminated the mutant. 

 

 

 

 

Fear Test: +10 (Inspiring Presence) =42. Result: 14, Pass 3DoS

 

 

 

 

He ejected the data-jack as he stepped back to avoid the claw blow. 

 

 

 

AGL44 +0 (Dodge) = 44. Result: 15, Pass 3DoS

 

 

 

 

Blood called to blood. What a skull to take! 

 

 

Hatred and rage guided him as his Fallen Magos Power Axe connected with the Mutant's Neck. 

 

 

 

 

 

WS41 +10 (Hatred of Mutants) = 51. Result: 10, Pass 5DoS 

Fallen Magos Power Axe: 2D10+4 E, Pen 6

10 (56: No ZH) + 8 = 18 +4 +3 (SB) = 25 Damage, Pen 6

 

 

 

 

 

 

Edited February 6 by Machine God
Missed out the Dodge

[Mazer Rackham]

Kraggan:

 

GM: I am assuming since you took no Evasion, there's no Dodge or Parry? IIRC, you will be down to 2 Wounds remaining?

 

Mutant?!?!:

Reaction: Evade (Dodge)

D100: 008, PASS, 4 DoS from Pass, plus 2 DoS from Unnat = 6 DoS.

 

In a feat of inhuman dexterity and astonishing sinuous twists, the creature manages to snake around your powerful strike. The thick bands of purple-black chitin and pale purple flesh-meat joints glisten in the sudden light, yellow eyes narrowing in the glare.

 

GM: Darkness Penalties will be alleviatated, but the Obscuration penalties remain.

 

[ ] Tarh

 

Edited February 6 by Mazer Rackham
Let there be light

[Trokair]

Tarh

 

 

He listened as Kraggan shared what he had found in the cogitators memory banks, whatever crews 16, 17 and 18 had been up to was important, the source of these Xenos that had been mentioned. Something to puzzle out later, right now they had to secure this communication bunker, and there was some wildlife in the ducts to worry about as well.

 

Quite the infestation by the sounds of it, perhaps the fighting had disturbed whatever fauna lived in the smaller tunnels and they were migrating en masse, a swarm of rats or some such. Tarh peered at the ground beneath him, and step slight aside, it would not do to fall into a hole due the metal fatigue in the floor.

 

Xerxes was right, they should not wait here for the enemy to arrive in greater number, he was about to voice his agreement when the thing dropped onto Kraggan.

 

A Utukku, four armed and snarling.

 

But no! There was no sense of unreality that normally accompanied those of the Immaterium, and the thaumaturgic lighting summoned by Xerxes earthed itself into the creature, it was entirely material. Scarily quick two the way it flowed around Kraggan axe swing. To Tarh it had looked like the blow had landed, until this not Utukku head was somehow to one side, yellow eyes glaring.

 

He saw his chance, let’s see if a las shot to the head would slow it down.  

 

 

Spoiler

Fear test: WP: 28 + 10(Inspiring Presence)=38 , d100: 001! I fear no man!

Aim and shoot at papa GS

BS: 44 + 5(compact) +20(Aim + Accurate) +10(short range) – 10(environmental: halon gas) -20(shotting into melee) = 49

D100: 57 Miss , sorry Kraggan

 

Edited February 7 by Trokair

[Mazer Rackham]

STRUCTURED TIME CONTINUES

 

The bolt from Tarh's rifle sizzles out, cutting a bright after-image through the fog.

 

[ ] Xerxes

[A.T.]

Xerxes

 

Ephialtes hung awkwardly as the servitors flailing limbs grasped up weaponry from the ground in Xerxes wake. Now that the creature was out of the vents they were safe to approach and sufficient voltage might stir the machinery within back to life, long enough at least to clear the room and give better sight of what they fought here.

 

Weapon recharging

 

Luminen shock / power transfer into the vent system to try and spin up the nearest fans

 

Ephialtes gathers scattered weaponry.

[Mazer Rackham]

Xerxes:

 

The power jolt re-starts the smaller fans first, which in turn jars the mechanisms to thrum back into life as linkages and ratchets force the shafts to turn.

 

A powerful draught of clean air thumps into the halon fug, thrusting it aside.

 

The monster and Kraggan continue to struggle, their brawling shapes befuddled by the mist and gas, which ripples over the precipice of the antenna well, pouring oddly, heavier than the air which carries it.

 

The beast seems to realise something, lets out a growling hiss that could almost be appreciation, before it puches all arms forward to send Kraggan flying across the intervening space to crash against a console. In the space, the mutated monstrosity takes a quick-step abck and vanishes down into the darkness as well.

 

With clarity restored, you take immediate stock, but something seems amiss.

 

The floor panel where Crux'As was standing has been displaced carefully, and there is no sign of him, just a yawning gap into the crawlspace between decks.

 

And then, there were three.

 

++ STRUCTURED TIME ENDS ++

++ NARRATIVE TIME BEGINS ++

 

Edited February 6 by Mazer Rackham

[Machine God]

Kraggan:

 

He stood up and brushed himself down.

 

He then followed the stares to find that Teeth had escaped. He looked at the displaced floor tile and then looked at the Antenna Well.

 

"What an idiot Crux'As, that's where the Mutants live!"

 

 

 

"Come on Tarh, Xerxes! I got the local floor plans, I think I can get us to a defensible location."

 

He set off out of the Comms Bunker.

 

 

 

 

Edited February 6 by Machine God
Drama

[Mazer Rackham]

Crux'As:

 

Your resolve melts as you hear the noise behind you. In the chaos and fighting, it is the small noise which draws your attention. The slip of treachery. And you know it well, do you not? By the time you turn around, it is too late, hidden by the shadow and smoke several pairs of hands grip you, with incredible strength, and yank you down and back. Off-balance you stuble to thier will, something constrincting your movements, your voidsuit becoming a trap, as it trusses around your limbs, immobilising you.

 

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see your weapons being handed off to some...thing else. Your captors are humanid, but they move with a precision not found in the clumsy miners you have already encountered. No vox clicks, no hand-sign is given, only glances are exchanged. Another monster looms over you, rivalling the one in the comms bunker gighting Kraggan and the others, but this one grips you with human-like mads, claws digging into the hardened reckrete and plasteel rebutted crawlspace.

 

It's almost pitch down here, but chemlights have been laid in a small trail, no doubt by the stealthy team who quietly melt into the sub-strata, perhaps to infest it elsewhere. The slavering brute clucthes you firmly, but carefully, and then you are off.

 

With astonishing speed, the mutated monster scuttles, leaps and springs along the superstructure binding whatever humanity decided to bolt to this asteroid. The movements of the beast are fluid, unerring, and the travel is almost smooth. It is no wonder, though, why they bound you into your suit. Your cocoon protects you as you hurtle through the dark, leaping across chasms filled with radioactive gems, looking like a field of stars in all the weird wonder of an underground vista, the little rock-munching vermin-beasts look up at you with grandly evolved bulbous eyes, fist sized onyx gems catching the light reflected from your visor helm, and the wet-shine chitinous carapace of your captor.

 

On it goes, deeper and deeper, gases forming a strange gossamer cloud layer, pressing in a damp tide of silver dapples against ancient plasteel beams the girth of warships, giving nutrients to the phosphorescent algae, in turn pecked at by some other creatures. Mere impressions of shapes and light, getting warmer, until the conduits for plasma generators come into view in all thier impossible copper spooling, and finally, as close to the core as possible, a great ball of purple-black iron carved with unidentifiable runes.

 

The beast is tireless, and branches off hard, until you realise you are entering human-carved tunnels, and the modest trappings of civilisation, but even this is desolate, iron bars and prison markings betraying the truth of this place.

 

Your...chauffeur...finally stops, dropping you unceremoniously like a sack, and then with aquick flick, tearing your voidsuit free, it dumps you, and a bag containing your equipment, then leaves you alone in the dim amber light of bulkhead glowlamps. Just in reach of your ears, you can hear human noises, activity. It appears to be coming down the tunnel to your left...

 

GM OOC: Just to be clear, in case anyone was wondering, this was done with Player agreement, and was decided before punches started being thrown.

 

Edited February 6 by Mazer Rackham

[Lord_Ikka]

The Smiler

 

This is...unexpected.

 

Crux'as' mind whirled at the quick abduction and transport. The mutant/xenos-thing(?) had moved extremely swiftly through the bowels of the station. 

 

Another prison. What luck.

 

Without a vac suit, escaping the rock was impossible and any hull breach deadly. Grabbing his things, the Smiler moved gingerly sown the tunnel towards the noise.

[Mazer Rackham]

Krokodil 4-1:

 

Seryna leads up through the airlock at position 14B, and out into a broad causeway matching exactly the one on the level below it. Your general sense of space - much better than that of a human - gives you that feeling of repetition, that some Galician remembrancers charmingly call déjà vu. Indeed, it becomes quite apparent as you march on, that without a map, a good memory, extensive experience or the directions you can freely study running along the wall, this tunnel is identical to the one below it. The offices and storage cubicles are the same, everything.

 

Including the signs of battle - except here, someone has used a heavy mining laser - at a guess - to carve an odd zig-zag pattern in the walls, floors and ceiling. The errant pattern stars near the inner airlock door and continues for some 40 metres. Given some of the extensive damage, it is quite a miracle the discharging weapon didn't carve through the walls and penetrate the docking bay.

 

The absence of lifeforms is equally similar to the causeway below, too.

 

The entrance to the Duodenum is tucked away in a compartment branching from the causeway. Marked with hazard runes and warning sigils, laid in reinforced rockrete, forming an octagonal hatch. Still powered, Seryna keys the access code, and it opens up fast, displacing the air differential between the tunnel and the compartment. Within crimson, low-powered lights blink on and off in a slow pulse, showing that beyond the hatch, the cleaved rock passage is exactly 2.25m squared, and marred along it's visible length only by accumulated rock and dust deposits.

 

As you peer down it, you can see the flat panels here and there, likely which reinforce the tunnel.

 

'This is it. These tunnels run through all the station - well, the bits I know, at least.'

 

She waves her hand inside, and her arm is instantly lifted by the microgravity. She climbs in, and readies her rocket-grapnel, hands still shaking. She doesn't look at Ukalegon.

 

'It's not far to the transit shafts, follow me.'

 

She fires, and flies down the tunnel headfirst with an involuntary cry.

 

GM: Decide who's going first and what class you're flying gents, and then goa ahead and collaborate on your travel experience...as per if you want any notes or tips for guidance, or queries in the OOC. As you travel, you may make an Easy (+20) Awareness Test

 

GM: @Xin Ceithan ONLY:

Spoiler

You can make the Awareness tests no problem, but any Psyniscince Test you attempt will automatically fail. Feel free to narrate this as you please.

 

+++++

 

Krokodil 4-2:

 

Your progress is lengthy, because you have to avoid 'patrols', which in fairness were clumps of miners going about their business - whatever that is. You have seen no-one but the Hanged Men (those with purple scarves). With the floor schematics and directions, and Tarh's unerring sense of cardinal compass headings, you manage to assemble a short stop away from the command centre, fairly unmolested.

 

You manage to lay-up in a disused cogitator storage room.

 

However, instances of active picter-cams are becoming more frequent, and the random, wandering miners have been replaced with a brutal menagerie of half-man, half-whatever the hell that beast in the comms-room was. They almost burst out of their uniforms, misshapen, ugly things, sporting an extra arm, with a deadly insectile claw sprouting from a superbly muscled shoulder. Chitinous, cancerous growths sprout from this arm and their heads.

 

They bear heavier gear, mining lasers, heavy stubbers and wander with an entourage of better equipped 'residents'. Their blasphemy of existence is far different to your own, thier faces are purple-skinned, yellow-eyed and mouths are filled with sharp teeth where they laugh. Void-hardened suits are up-armoured in several places, and proper military style equipment belts, helms and rebreather equipment is openly sported, still with the sigils of the Peona Justicia upon it.

 

+++++

 

Crux'As:

 

The sounds float down the passageway, which rapidly loses any vestiges of being a prison - indeed, it becomes more like a network of hand-carved tunnels in a rock-hive-hovel. The bars have been repurposed into light fittings, hand-rails, even some manner of clothes pegs, upon which, mouldering mining suits still hang.

 

Serviceable, suits, if a little dusty and smelling faintly of...well. Whatever you can imagine.

 

The noises are industrial, but not that of fabrication - it is domestic industry. Pots and pans being clonked together, the rush of water from a recycler or moisture collector into a basin.

 

As you carefully proceed down the tunnel, a bundle of rags hurtles into your legs, roughly at knee height.

 

'Opps! Thorry mistheah!'

 

A small face peers out of the scruff, a beautiful blue human eye, peering oddly in mix of fright and contrition. Three small hands instantly re-arrange the dishevelled bundle, one of them tipped with razor sharp claws that appear to handle the delicate task with great aplomb.

 

'Fazl, where are you?' a woman calls. Her voise is marred by something in her throat, a burr-buzz of otherness.

 

As you look up, two more grotty bundles look up at you from a door lintel, human and alien eyes staring from fleshy chops and chinitous brows.

 

Edited February 7 by Mazer Rackham

[Trokair]

Tarh

 

In the confusion of the of the encounter somehow the little preacher had absconded. Tarh briefly thought it might have been voluntarily, a shade of a coward perhaps, but then he saw the floor plating ajar. The Xenos not Utukkt had been a distraction while more of this Druid’s minions had abducted Crux'as.

 

"Come on Tarh, Xerxes! I got the local floor plans, I think I can get us to a defensible location."

 

Good, Tarh thought, staying here would not only trap them once purple scarfed reinforcements arrived, and the place was far from secure anyhow.

 

Falling into step he kept a careful eye out for further ambushes, now knowing that air and other smaller passges where the domain of these Xenos allies of the purple faction.

 

---

 

He had been wrong, the purple lot where not allied with the Xenos Utukku, they were somehow mingled with them, the evidence now quite clear, mutations or perhaps grafting, given the way that some of them had extra arms of a similar, if smaller, appearance to that of the Xenos. It was an unsettling sight, he had never heard of anything like this in all his years, and thinking back to the logs that Karggan had extracted, neither had the local miners, else they would not have left the purple lot move in.  

[Machine God]

Kraggan:

 

Only by following the Ways of the Omnissiah to the Path of the True Flesh or by becoming one of the Adeptus Astartes could one exceed the Holy Form of Man. 

 

All else is Heresy! 

 

 

 

 

 

[Lysimachus]

Hagga:

 

With a nod towards the Lamenter, Hagga positioned himself between Seryna and Ukalegon. He followed the mortal into the dark, square-cut tunnel, having to crouch slightly to avoid scraping his helm and backpack against the low ceiling.

 

Thankfully his armour’s autosenses were functioning as they should, illuminating the red-tinged blackness ahead. He panned his bolter, looking beyond the mortal's rapidly disappearing back and on into the tunnel.

 

Awareness: Per38 +10(Autosenses) +10(HS) +20(Easy) = 78, Roll: 65, 2DoS

 

[Machine God]

Kraggan:

 

 

+(SQUELCH)+

 

 

Kraggan sent a Vox ping. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

[Xin Ceithan]

Cyrandras

 

Placeholder 

- carefully follows into the Duodenum

 

…

 

Over the closed vox of the squad link, Cyrandras growled 

 

+++ Tread carefully here, Brothers. There is something off here. Something - or someone- is messing with my perception of the aether in this place. +++

 

Awareness: Per 40+10(Autosenses) +10(HS) +20(Easy) = 80, Roll: 33 pass, lots DoS