[BC] The Blackest Heart (Part I) (IC)

[Trokair]

Tarh

 

Keeping his head down as a sudden rain of shrapnel pattered of the wall somewhere above him, a few fragment hitting him with enough force to be felt. None had found their way through his armour, but that would not last if he did not move. A metal screech and Ukalegon shout spurred them into action. Tarh following the footsteps of the ones in front of him, on reaching this new level he could see Hagga already deep in melee with more of the purple lot to one side, while Ukalegon had found cover right under the noses of a second lot of enemy, a precarious position if they realised he was there.

 

The door to the next level was still sealed, and for now would provided some limited cover, hugging that side Tarh tried to asses where best he could assist the Chosen.

 

Spoiler

WP test for shrapenal hits

WP28 + 40 = 68

d100: 59, Pass

Full action, run up stairs and take cover by door to next level. If i understood right this shields Tarh from the horde not currently engaged in melee.

 

[Lord_Ikka]

The Smiler

 

Confusion, carnage, chaos. 

 

This is good. The will of the Pantheon brought forth.

 

Crux'as drew his shortsword and looked about. The dim emergency lighting flickered as gun blasts added their bright flares. The Hanged Men were reacting to the gunfire, scattering and taking cover or chittering and charging forward. He couldn't see who was shooting, but whomever it was at least an ally of convenience, if not actuality. Though he would have preferred to know that the gunner or gunners had decent aim and new that he was not a target. 

 

The Smiler scuttled through the chaos, trying to move towards the entrance they had come in. Hopefully the unknown attacker would either be shooting from a different area or understood that he was friendly. Quick glances along the way looked for Caleb and Druid, the first to assist and the second to backstab if possible.

[Mazer Rackham]

GM: OOC, Tro, yes,that side will give you some cover in the lintel.

 

Crux'As:

 

Druid, like the slippery specimen he is, cannot be seen, but there is one Hanged Man who is ducking low, his survival instinct not really focussed on the murdering chaos worshiper in his blindside.

 

GM: This Hanged man is not Helpless, but he's not Aware of you. Given the situation, I'll let you narratively perforate him and lift his gubbins, if you want it: a sturdy leather belt with a full canteen bladder, a Frag grenade and a loaded stub pistol. You'll need to Stealth it out of there (+20) for conditions. Caleb is nowhere to be seen, but the shooting is definitely being done by two people.

 

+++++

 

Command Centre:

 

GM: Play continues.

[Lord_Ikka]

The Smiler

 

A Hanged Man. A mutant, chitin crawling up his arms and the back of his bald head. Ducking down, away from the gunfire. A target.

 

Cor'gail, for you.

 

The short sword slid into the mutant's neck and out. A brief, muffled groan before the man was unable to ever speak again. The Smiler grabbed the belt the dead man wore. A gun, grenade, and canteen- should be useful.

 

He slipped out, trying to stay out of sight. A couple of the Xenos-tainted were near the exit. After hours with Druid, Crux'as knew his voice patterns. Staying out of sight, he shouted directions in the voice of the enemy leader - "Move up and attack them!"

Spoiler

 

Deceive Test - Hanged Men

Target - 61 + 10 (Peer - Mutants) = 71

Roll - 47

Result - Pass, 2 DoS. Enemy is at -10 Scrutiny due to Crux'as learning Druid's voice via physical presence. 

 

Stealth Test - getting out

Target - 18 + 20 (lighting) = 38

Roll - 29

Result - Pass, no DoS.

 

 

As he slipped out the doorway, the Smiler unclipped the grenade's pin and rolled it back through. More confusion, more chance to divert their attention.

Spoiler

 

OOC - Don't know if I need to make a Ballistic test, as Crux'as isn't actually throwing the grenade at anyone...

Ballistic Test 

Target - 29

Roll - 43

Result = Failure, 1 DoF

 

Oops....

 

 

Edited February 28, 2025 by Lord_Ikka

[Mazer Rackham]

GM: OOC we'll deal with Crux'As escape now to push it into 'next episode' territory.

 

The Hanged men seem to hear you, seem to follow your instructions but are also confused as to what to do. It is though they know what you say, but it lacks something. It is perhaps that they are being subjected to that strange influence you have seen before, or maybe the lack of it in something beyond your voice, but they do displace and go forward, driving shots and providing cover for the others, creating the gap you need.

 

The grenade was always just a bonus gambit, and here it is the same. Sticky with some kind of...residue...it glues to your hand a fraction, fouling the throw. (Scatter Roll) fortunately it rolls away harmlessly from you - but equally does nothing to the scattered enemy. It does however provide a nice, lound bang, and the shrapnel pinging everywhere drives heads down.

 

You're gone into the tunnels before they can even look up.

 

GM: Crux'As will know some of these tunnels through observation courtesy of Druid's largesse. In the next phase we'll sort out some navigation rolls etc. ok?

 

GM: I think we're waiting on Kraggan and Cyrandras in the Command Centre. Just go in any order lads.

 

Edited February 28, 2025 by Mazer Rackham

[Machine God]

Kraggan:

 

Ukalegon and Hagga had charged through the remains of the door, followed by Tarh. 

 

Not waiting on the Witch, Kraggan charged through. Peripheral vision caught Hagga reaving with the North Horde, so he charged East past Tarh then turned around the end of the console to get to the bottom Horde of Mutants. 

 

 

 

WS41 +20 (Charge) +10 (Horde) = 71. Result: 2, Pass 7DoS = 4 Hits

Fallen Magos Power Axe: 2D10+4 E, Pen 5, Power Field (+1 Hit Vs Hordes), Unbalanced, Cursed Metal 

Hit #1: 1 +5 +4 +3 (SB) = 13.
Hit #2: 2 +3 +4 +3 = 12.
Hit #3: 7 +2 +4 +3 = 16.
Hit #4: 7 +6 +4 +3 = 20

Hit #5: 3 +2 +4 +3 = 12
Whirlwind of Death +2 Mag

 

 

 

 

Back to the dance, a hacking and a stomping, a chopping and a gouging and a 'butting dialled upto a Four! 

 

 

 

 

Edited February 28, 2025 by Machine God
Dialled to a 4!

[Xin Ceithan]

Cyrandras 

 

Placeholder

 

Spoiler

This! 

 

That’s 

Half Action Slide

 

HalfAction Burst

 

I guess? 

 

[Mazer Rackham]

Cyrandras-Wu Rakash:

 

Your ancient bolter-kata is strong, as you leap out of the stairwell and hose down Horde 2, covering your ally, Ukalegon.  By chance you also strike the flame tank wielded by the Hanged man pyromaniac. It explodes, murdering what Kraggan has left of the Horde in a might conflagration - which you do not watch, since you have displayed your coolness and this would be impinged by looking.

 

Kraggan is hurled back a few paces, but is steadied by the consoles, even as the multi-laser turret wakes to track you all in it's arc.

 

Hagga's luck fares similarly, the Hybrid trying to fire a grenade at point-blank range which explodes in the barrel, tossing the Exorcist back with the blast, but the brunt is absorbed by the Horde and therefore he is unharmed.

 

Both Hordes are eliminated, and for a moment, the Multilaser ocular array clicks and whirs.

 

'Ah, there you are,' Druid's voice comes over the voxcaster. 'I have a proposal for you...'

 

ROUND ENDS.

 

GM: This encounter is meant to last longer and culminate in a big fight on Level 3, followed by one more instalment/encounter, but we'll close it here. I did intend to close it off after the power cut, but I forgot how close we were to the re-start of Murderers.

 

If you have any complaints or comments outside that process, please do not hesitate to PM me with your concerns and I will quietly have you shot afterwards. Thank you for your co-operation.

 

++ PLAYERS, DO NOT POST ++

 

+ PART ONE COMPLETE +

 

Edited December 23, 2025 by Mazer Rackham
Closed it up.

[Mazer Rackham]

++ INTERLUDE ++

 

+ SILENCE IS GOLDEN +

 

Several weeks have passed since the impertinent offer from Druid, and whence the fell hand of Iorek Redfang breached the rock known to it's denizens as Brimstone. The xenos threat, no match for the might of the Corsairs who followed the intrepid assault parties, and the kanker at the heart of the rock, a mighty Genestealer Patriarch did savage battle with the Space Wolf and his immediate entourage in the heart of a Necrontyr acropolis.

 

Shimmering metal caterpillars* of ancient fabrication lay dormant, glassy optics a thousand mirrors for the fight across the heart of an aeons-old courtroom, watching young upstarts squabbling in the dust of forgotten ages. Yet, the Redfang proved the mightier, thanks to the information gleaned by the warriors he'd sent, and familiarity with such beasts from long campaigns amongst the bloody stars.

 

His own stubborn determination and massive frame, decked in the monstrous slabs of adamantium-laden power armour which constrained him, didn't hurt his chances either.

 

Druid's head now adorns a spike, along with his closest cabal, but there were many who managed to flee into the depths of the rock, and cleansing them all will take time. The greatest threat is known only as Silence, a datavault transcribe from Caleb's Brainbox identifies him as a Kelermorph genus, a deadly and harrowing opponent. It is safe to say that until he is hunted down and destroyed, his clade will continue to roam the innards of the asteroid, striking at any and all opportunities. Their knowledge of the hollow-rock, will be a great boon, and so as many of the threads are removed, and cleared, thorns still remain embedded.

 

Thorns.

 

A fitting motif for those who follow Lord Huron Blackheart.

 

The Necrons, for their part, pay you all no heed. They slumber still, even as Blackheart sets his men to salvaging great quantities of the stone gauntlet that hangs in the Ithyca system. It is now clear why the Blood Reaver wanted the asteroid intact, perhaps knowing far, far more than anyone realised. A cunning warlord who has bent his will to the destruction of the Imperium by any means is not to be underestimated.

 

He garrisons the rock with several squads of mortal troops, inducting the surviving engineers and prisoners into this corps. The cells, the brood within, and all who are tainted by them are put to the flame and sword. None are spared, both as precaution, and warning.

 

Only Caleb and Seryna are rescued. Huron orders them to be taken to his flagship for further interrogation, but they seem resigned to it, and after personal audience with Lord Huron, they convert to his cause and are given leave of the ship. All livestock and familiars of the crew who are to remain on Brimstone are deployed there, the beastmaster taking care over the giant tortoise among them, although when put in the pen some wag steals inside and glues a large bayonet to the top dome of its shell, and scrawls 'Lord Pickelhaube' on a board outside the single enclosure.

 

Plunder is amassed, much of which goes into Huron's coffers, along with as much Noctolith that can be mined. Knowledge of all things is found in the hidden datavaults established by the Inquisition within this fortress' mainframe, and the nature of the installation becomes clear - a joint mechanicum-inquisition research and deep ranging facility to monitor the sector and the Necrontyr within it. The sigil of the Ordo Xenos is imprinted in several files, still to be cracked.

 

Unlike the planets. The origin of Brimstone, and it's strange gravitational effects are explained by the ancient xenos machinery within. Several world-binding field generators are discovered, which formed part of a networked system across the three first planets of Ithyca's solar agglomeration, their purpose, however, still eludes. All that can be discerned is that the terrible fighting during the Heresy disrupted this network, and this is merely one fragment which remembers it used to be a mountain...

 

However, this is only the beginnings of a great undertaking that fate has to play out. Even as the rebels and ruffs settle into their new home, and Huron's henchmen depart leaving the Party and support staff to fend for themselves, other forces begin to align in the background...

 

*= Tro mentioned hungry, hungry caterpillars - very prescient...

Edited December 23, 2025 by Mazer Rackham

[Mazer Rackham]

Ates Sapik:

 

There were no flames, no. The great Tchar appeared anyway, in the blood and butchery of the betrayal. The Crow called, led you to the Obelisk, yes. In the purple-silver surface your face was distorted and made to look happy. Then the knives came, the rockhammers and pickaxes, as your worker clade went insane in fits of jealous selfishness. They did not see what you saw, they forgot the promises of Great Tchar you had given - that powerful men would come.

 

Men with lightning sticks and fire.

 

Fire.

 

What colour were the flames, again? Not even you can remember, they were so bright with revelation. A man with a permanent smile, another who rode a giant shell-backed beast, a man with two heads and wires, who spoke in a strange tongue to boxes with lights. An axe. Mighty giants in stone harness, crying blood, another devouring the power of men's core.

 

Another who knew many truths.

 

Go to the Obelisk, said Great Tchar, as the invisible, multi-coloured flames danced in the eyes of all your shaft-kin. There will be pain, but this is the price of knowledge. A small sacrifice of suffering is the key to warming fires.

 

Indeed - what is a fire without kindling?

 

Once again, what the Grand Crow promised came to pass. The men of a false law fell upon your comrades, beat you, broke your bones and bruised your flesh., but the flames cannot be extinguished. Where it grows, it feeds, and where it does not, it bides. A pyre that will burn away these chains that clink and clatter on the deck as your bare feet stumble into the metal box - a winged prison cell which will take you to a place so much darker than even the 13th level of Dante's Barrow.

 

The hell of an Inquisition Fortress.

 

Tchar has demanded it.

Edited December 25, 2025 by Mazer Rackham

[Machine God]

Kraggan:

 

The infestation had been cleansed, eradicated by Iorek Redfang and his ilk. 

 

Teeth has returned to them. 

 

He'd had much work to do on the recovered Xenos Tech, and he'd passed on his findings to 

 

All interested parties. 

 

 

Still he ached for further murder-make. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Edited December 26, 2025 by Machine God
Typo

[FabiusV4lcoran]

Atesh Sapik

 

It's been said that survival in prison, whether the 21st century or the 41st millennium, is about etiquette and routine.  Routine to keep one sane, etiquette to keep one alive.

 

Atesh wasn't afraid.  The first rule of a transient existence was keeping one's head down and mouth shut.  The longer one keeps the truth quiet, the easier it is to mold later.  Sapik generally preferred to keep his level of knowledge and...special talents...as quiet as possible for as long as practicable.

 

When the betrayal came, Sapik wasn't surprised so much as disappointed.  He'd hoped his compatriots would stay in line just a bit longer.

 

No matter.  The Crow had confirmed his path, and with a nebulous enough destination any road will suffice.  "Let the galaxy burn" was a pretty nebulous destination indeed.

 

Atesh fell in behind the other prisoners in his corridor and took to the crushing routine that is prison life.  In time, an opportunity would present itself.  And if it didn't, maybe he'd just see about making things more interesting once he got his bearings.

 

*Edited for Color name

Edited December 26, 2025 by FabiusV4lcoran

[Mazer Rackham]

Barzani:

 

The summons, when it comes, is delivered by an Astral Claw and his human helper. It is rare to see the old Tyrant's Legion iconography, and to have it stuck under your nose so soon proves everything all the raw. The Astral Claw is a burly sort, not as lithe as yourself, but he doesn't need to be - his trade is marked by the brutal, truncated autocannon strapped in stowed position. He jerks his chin at you, the MK VII baleen-style snout abrupt, grudging.

 

Like it's owner.

 

+Oothecan. Lord Iorek Redfang wants you for an immediate operation.+

 

Ah, the Redfang. The master of this ship, a Space Marine Strike Cruiser - the Wolf of Fenris. What promises Huron made him are unknown, but the fact a Space Wolf was allowed to remain in command of his own ship says something about both this leader and the Blackheart. A burr under the saddle perhaps that you were not chosen for the assault on the asteroid fortress codified as Brimstone. You were not called, suspecting many things, among them the practical - that your talents are not to be...employed there.

 

The thought may have occurred you were simply not welcome. Likewise you may have been so quiet and shadow-haunted they ignored you.

 

Now the time has come. The Krokodil assault craft make the decks shudder as they launch  in droves - possibly to a certain, chilling death in the cold black and uncaring grey among the stars and dead pumice.

 

The Astral Claw turns away, but his human companion nods at you with some genuine respect, even a touch of warmth.

 

Of course. Those of the Maelstrom never forget. Huron does not.

 

Neither do you.

[Iron Father Ferrum]

Obadiah

 

Skritch.  Skritch.  Skritch.  The rasp of Silence's edge against the whetstone fought to fill the quiet of Obadiah's quarters on the Wolf.  It rankled a bit that he'd been sequestered here instead of joining the infiltration of Brimstone.  He wasn't much for massed assaults, though it still rankled that he'd been ignored again during the muster calls for the main attack force.  Even now, he could feel the slight shudder in the deck beneath his feet as the landing craft shot out of their bays.  Why was he here if they wouldn't put him to use?

 

Obadiah stowed the whetstone and slipped Silence into his sheath at his side.  "Enough waiting," he muttered to himself as he pulled on his cloak and slung Fate's Eye.  He had every intention to sneak his way to the embarkation decks, but his first step towards the door was arrested at the booming knock.  Coincidence, or something else?  

 

He opened the door to the monstrous Astral Claw and his mortal minion, fighting to keep the sneer from his face at the sight of such a ludicrous weapon.  Firepower is a wonderful thing, certainly, but that kind of gun belonged on a tank.  Still, he nodded at the invitation.  "I shall attend him at once."

 

The Astral Claw turned, and Obadiah followed.  The minion smiled at him, and Obadiah allowed himself to smile back as he strode onward.

[Machine God]

Kraggan:

 

They had acquired quite a lot of materials in the mission, that had been catalogued and not requisitioned elsewhere or stolen from them. 

 

He and Xerxes had looked through it and he had his eyes on a couple of choice parts. 

 

 

Cautiously he approached the Space Marines.

 

"Ukalegon the Twice-Lived please excuse me. I have been going through the acquisitions and I wondered if you would like me to craft you an upgrade for your Jump Pack?" 

 

 

 

 

[Lysimachus]

 

 

There are thousands of mining sites spread across the arid surface of Penitence… but Dante's Barrow is one of the largest and most infamous. From the air, the outer structure appears like a monstrous metal hand reaching out from the rocky landscape, finger-like chimneys releasing billows of heavy ore dust into the atmosphere.

 

However, just like a colossal giant attempting to claw its way free from its burial place, the vast majority of the facility is hidden beneath the ground. Below the processing plant, a huge network of mines digs deep into the ore-rich planetary crust, mile after mile of shafts and levels where thousands of workers labour to satisfy the Imperium's rapacious hunger for raw materials.

 

These workers are not paid freemen or willing volunteers, however. They are convicted prisoners, the lowest of the low, heretics and traitors, cowards and criminals, brought in from across the Inca Sector. For the payment of their grievous sins, they will labour here for the rest of their pitiful lives. To ensure that this price is paid in full, the vigilant guardians of the Adeptus Arbites keep watch all around the prison complex, ready to defend the Barrow from enemies without and within.

 

 

Atesh:

 

Since your arrival at Dante's Barrow, you have found yourself assigned to the work crews mining deposits of lithium and kalium down on Deck 10. Life here among the prison gangs is hard, cruel and often brief. The tunnels in which you are forced to work are hot, dark, cramped, and stink of human filth. The atmosphere is one of casual violence, unapologetic self-interest, and bitter resentment against the Imperium in general and the prison warders in particular.

 

This hatred has been sharpened in recent months, after the discovery of something at the lowest level of the Barrow. In a matter of days, Deck 13 was brutally culled of many hundreds of prisoners and then shut down entirely, declared off-limits by secretive Imperial forces. Wild rumours, each more fantastical than the last, continue to fly between the other levels about what was found, but no-one knows for a certainty.

 

The grav-conveyor system has been locked down on all other Decks so that the ‘Impies’ can travel up and down freely and quickly. The miners are instead forced to use an ancient and crumbling apparatus of pulleys and baskets that bring ore up through narrow, twisting shafts to reach the surface. No concession has been made to production quotas due to this hazardous change.

 

But these things are beneath your notice… except perhaps as a means to an end? Your concerns are far greater. The Great Crow has spoken in the quiet whispers of the dark. Tchar says that the time has come for you to leave this place.

 

You must obey.

 

 

 

Obadiah:

 

Ahead of you, a seemingly empty vista of rocky hills and valleys, covered by sparse scrub and a few stunted trees.

 

Behind you, thin wisps of smoke rise from the crumpled shell of your ‘covert insertion capsule’. A rather ironic designation for what appears to be an old saviour pod covered in a thin coat of reflective black paint. Similar in shape to the drop assault transports used by the Astartes, in size it is much, much smaller - so much so that deploying even a single Space Marine and his equipment was almost beyond its capacity.

 

But at least you have safely made planetfall. Your mission can begin. Easier said than done, of course. Iorek Redfang's coterie of mortal witches couldn't even tell you who your target was. A figure they had seen, in flames… but not burning, somehow made of fire? Nor could the seers explain much as to why the Red Corsairs would want this ‘firebrand’ either, just that they did. However, the witches were able to locate the burning figure on Penitence, their divinations unerringly pointing towards Dante's Barrow.

 

And thus you are here. It was decided that a lone Astartes, skilled in covert actions, would have just as good a chance - if not better - as an entire squad of mortal troops to successfully carry out the retrieval of the unknown asset, and procure transport to bring him to high orbit where a Corsair ship could collect them.

 

Off to the east, several kloms distant, you can see a thick column of black smoke rising from behind a rock scarp, a sure sign of heavy ore processing.

 

 

 

Edited Sunday at 02:25 PM by Lysimachus

[Iron Father Ferrum]

Obadiah

 

Obadiah kicked himself free of the last scrap of the "hatch" of the capsule, a sour look curdling his features.  He doffed his helmet for a moment, and took a deep breath of the dry, dusty air of this forsaken place.  The smell was surprisingly clean for the most part; at this distance, he only caught a whiff of the acrid, burning-prometheum smell from the mining complex.  There was a bit of a metallic taste as well, just a hint of iron in the back of the throat.  It reminded him of the taste of aerosolized blood.

 

He knelt in the tan dust, curling the cloak around his form as he did so.  The cameleoline material immediately picked up the colors of the terrain around him and shifted, slowly, from its neutral color into a patchwork of red, brown, and khaki.  He replaced his helmet, sealing away the ferrous-tasting air, and pulled the cloak's hood up over the top to hide himself as completely as possible.  He double-checked Silence -- the 50cm blade was still nestled snugly in its sheathe strapped to his plastron -- and unslung Fate's Eye.  He went through a functions check to ensure the rough landing hadn't jostled anything, then reloaded the magazine.

 

With one last look back at the scrap of his insertion vehicle, he began making his slow way across the desolate landscape towards the plume of black smoke.  He kept his head on a swivel, eyes constantly scanning for signs that his arrival was noticed.

 

 

Spoiler

Stealth Roll:

 

Ag 48 + 10 (Terrain) + 20 (Camo Cloak) - 30 (Armor/Size) = 48

Roll: 29, Pass, 2x DoS

 

 

Awareness

 

Per 42 + 10 (H.S.) + 10 (Autosenses)= 62

Roll: 49, Pass, 2x DoS

 

 

Edited Sunday at 08:36 PM by Iron Father Ferrum

[FabiusV4lcoran]

Atesh Sapik

Atesh struggled another loaded bucket of ore towards the pulley-gang.  He was starting to tire of-------

 

Deep underground though he was, a chorus of caws interrupted his thought process.  He almost dropped the bucket with the sudden migraine that accompanied the psychic message, and blood started trickling out of his nostrils.

 

The Great Crow is calling.  That can only mean that change is coming.  Atesh continued his trip to the pulley, now listening closer to his surroundings.

 

Edited Sunday at 08:26 PM by FabiusV4lcoran

[Lysimachus]

Atesh:

 

(OOC: I won't ask for an Awareness test yet, as what you can see is fairly familiar/self-evident?)

 

When you reach the great casket and tip in the load of loose ore that you have gathered, it is a drop in a much larger bucket. A steady stream of workers continues to move past you to add their contribution as the casket moves upwards with snail-like slowness, but you pause, looking along the tensioned steel cables that lift it into the darkness.

 

One of the pulley-men balances atop the casket, watching as the human dregs fill it with ore. It is an envied position, working the mine's transport system, even with the added dangers caused by the unavailability of the grav-conveyors. Food is more plentiful and of marginally better quality on the higher Decks, and there is even the rare opportunity to leave the confines of Penitence's crust and feel the weak sunlight on one's skin. Some on the lower levels never see Ithyca-II from the day they arrive at the Barrow until the day they die.

 

The pulley-man notices your upward stare.

 

“Oi, wot you lookin’ at?”

 

 

 

Obadiah:

 

You move with skill and speed through the broken terrain, slipping easily from cover to cover. As you move closer, the tips of the chimneys of Dante's Barrow gradually begin to show above the stony horizon.

 

Awareness: Success

 

As you cross over from one valley into the next, a sound catches your enhanced ear. Voices. You freeze, and watch.

 

There, at the far end of the valley. Raised voices, more than one. In loud, careless conversation. Movement. Humanoid figures, a quartet walking in casual file along a just visible track that crosses the valley mouth. Tan fatigues, black flak vests made grey by dust. Carapace helms with heavy visors, but hanging from belts rather than worn. Three men, one woman. Bullpup lasguns, swinging from carry straps.

 

Stealth vs Opposed Awareness: Player wins.

 

One pauses to look along the valley, seemingly directly at your position. Then he moves on, blissfully unaware.

 

It appears that whoever commands the warders of the Barrow is sensible enough to order regular patrols of the outer perimeter. However, it also seems that the attitude of the common troops does not fully match their chief's vigilance. Certainly there is no indication that they are aware of, or searching for, an infiltrating enemy.

 

 

 

Edited Monday at 12:12 AM by Lysimachus

[Iron Father Ferrum]

Obadiah

 

Muscles lock in place, and hidden behind the layer of rip-stop cameleoline, the Mantid doesn't move a millimeter.  He's just a part of the landscape, another uninteresting rock.  Calculations fly through his mind; he can certainly kill all four of the patrolling guards without suffering any great injury...but mere slaughter wasn't his task.  And it was near-impossible to get all of them without any one voxing a contact report back to their headquarters.  And besides, the insertion was supposed to be covert -- a missing patrol would make infiltration much harder -- and so he waited patiently for the patrol to pass beyond sight.

 

Only once he was confident they were out of eye-line did Obadiah start moving again.  It ate up valuable time, but speed was the antithesis of stealth.  Finding his one particular needle in the stack of needles inside was going to be hard enough, but exfiltrating with the heretic -- and, in particular, finding something that they could pilot out of atmosphere for pickup -- was probably going to require the abandonment of stealth.  His steps slow but steady, Obadiah continued to make his indirect approach to the smokestacks.

[FabiusV4lcoran]

Atesh Sapik

 

No obvious signs of an escape attempt to join appeared, nor any indicator of invasion or other distractions, blast it.  Still, the Crow commanded change and offered a clear path out.  Atesh mentally focused on a mantra in praise of the Great Changing Crow and became entranced by what hazy light filtered down the shaft.  Light came from flame, whether that be great flaming balls that were stars or a small candle, and flame had always been Atesh's way.

 

At the sound of the pulleyman's harsh query, Atesh flinched as though worried at being struck and threw up his hands to ward off any blows.  As tiring as the act was becoming, it was still too early to shuck the mummer's show.  After a moment to recognize no blow had come, Atesh called out, 

 

"I, uh----I was just admiring your....boots!  Did you purchase them locally?"

[Lysimachus]

Atesh:

 

The pulley-man's boots are indeed newer and cleaner than the ruined footwear worn by most of the prisoners, but the rider does not seem at all pleased to have it pointed out.

 

“Purcha…?”

 

His eyes narrow angrily and it looks as though he is about to swing down off the casket, when someone else bumps against you, shoving you away from the shaft and back into the darkness of the work gallery. Once far enough from the glowering pulley-man, the dirty newcomer mutters, half at you, half to himself.

 

“...new or something? Those -kissing pulley-boys go up top and scrounge all sorts from the pigs, but they'll beat you blue if you say so much as a word about it! Leg-riding scum. Oho, but they'll get theirs when the day comes… can't come soon enough…”

 

 

 

Obadiah:

 

You move east to the far end of the valley, where you can just make out the warder patrol still following the dusty trail southwards. Extrapolating from the slight curve of the path suggests that it might form a loose circle around Dante's Barrow. Given the roughness of the ground, and the dawdling pace the mortals are setting, you can estimate that it would take them several days to complete the full loop.

 

Of course, they might not be the only patrol unit currently making this circuit.

 

Onwards to the east you can see that the uneven terrain begins to drop away slightly from your position, allowing you your first full view of the infamous prison mine. Perhaps four or five kloms away, the massive processing plant is still clearly visible, as are the various subsidiary buildings and other smaller structures.

 

Immediately noticeable are a series of squat, octagonal towers - perhaps ten metres across and twenty tall - that form another, slightly elliptical ring around the Barrow. Guard posts, likely equipped with rooftop heavy weapon nests. Though it is hard to see clearly at this distance, it seems logical that you would find a perimeter fence of high, heavy mesh running between the towers, enclosing a flat area approximately one hundred and fifty metres wide on all sides of the prison.

 

Within this enclosure, your eye is drawn to several areas.

 

An open rectangle to the east, again fenced and surrounded by more guard posts and a single taller control tower. A landing field. Waiting on this field are a series of shuttlecraft of varying size. Some, larger and proudly coloured in Mechanicus red, are obviously bulk transporters waiting to be filled with processed ores. A few others, dark blue, seem to be dedicated prison vessels, perhaps bringing in new penal workers, or carrying warder shift changes to and from the surrounding hab-towns of Penitence.

 

To the north, a series of long semicylinders, laid out in neat rows. Pre-fab guard barracks, from the look of them. Beside these shapes there is a smaller landing field with another prison shuttle standing ready.

 

 

 

 

Edited Monday at 03:52 PM by Lysimachus

[Iron Father Ferrum]

Obadiah

 

 

Prisons are, by definitions, first and foremost designed to keep people inside from getting out, and with good reason as lots of the people inside always wanted to get out.  Now here he was, trying to break in.

 

He inspected every inch of the facility from his vantage point to the west.  Inside the wire, the western & southern approaches were wide open with a long distance to cover.  The eastern approach had even more active guards because of the extra towers around the landing field.  The northern approach was, at first glance, likewise a bad place for infiltration; the barracks there were likely to be bustling and filled with people.

 

However, at night time, most of those guards would be asleep, and the few awake were unlikely to be armed or armored.  Plus, the barracks themselves provided cover from visual acquisition from the surrounding towers.  It was probably the best out of four bad options.

 

Obadiah backed off from the ridge and began making his slow way around, circling to the north of the complex.  He'd wait for the wan green sun of the system primary to set behind the rocks, and then begin his move.

 

 

Spoiler

Throwing this in, in case it's needed:

 

Stealth Roll:

 

Ag48 +10 (Terrain) +20 (Cloak) -30 (Armor) = 48

Roll: 30 (Pass, 2x DoS)

 

[FabiusV4lcoran]

Atesh Sapik

 

So much for keeping his head down and mouth shut.  Cursing himself for letting his smart mouth run away from him, Atesh moved to flinch from the pulleyman's blow before he was shoved back.  He took the opportunity to wipe his nose clean and, having listened to the veteran prisoner's mutterings, turned back to face the same direction.  Sapik checked over his shoulder to make sure they weren't being watched too closely, and leaned in to whisper: 

 

" 'When the day comes'.  Why not today?  Why not now?  Let's scrag'em and take their job!  The boys up top don't care from whom the ore flows, only that it flows."

 

 

[Lysimachus]

Atesh:

 

The older man frowns at you for a moment, as if surprised that someone is speaking to him. You get the impression that his mind is not quite all there. After a few seconds he shakes himself as though a chill has gone through him.

 

“Thunder and lightning…,” he whispers, wandering away.

 

Another prisoner, only slightly less grizzled but rather more alert, moves closer and nods to you.

 

“Dangerous talk, stranger. Don't mind old Henk, he was part of a crew… hmm, ‘bout eighteen months back? …that'd had enough and thought they could ride a casket up and take the pulley-boys’ place at the top. Thirty, forty lads all piled in, same again into the next two caskets. Thought they'd maybe even swarm right through into the plant, try for a break out.”

 

He shakes his head.

 

“Not a chance. The pigs look after their pets, and they always got a squad stationed at a stubber nest at the top of the shaft. That ‘thunder and lightning’ Henk's talking about? Gunfire rattling off the casket they were riding. Picks and hammers ain't much against las and long 8.25's. Old man was cowardly… or smart… enough not to get out of the damn thing. Stayed hidden while the rest of them got cut down in seconds.”

 

He shakes his head again. His words, the tone of familiarity in them, and something in the way he handles himself, suggest that he has some military experience.

 

“The other two loads they didn't even waste any bullets on. They just got the pulley-boys to shut down the winches, overrode the drop bottoms on all the caskets, and let the poor fools fall long before they got anywhere near the top.”

 

“Unless you've got a couple of frags…” he lets out a harsh bark of laughter, “...or a damn flamer! …hidden down your trousers to clear out that gun nest and give us time to take over the winch controls, there's no point, so I wouldn't even waste my time.”

 

 

 

Obadiah:

 

OOC: Obviously, it will take another little while for you to move around to your chosen entrance point and wait for nightfall, so if ok with you I will sort of pause your bit and focus for a few posts on what is happening with Atesh?