[BC] The Blackest Heart (IC)

[Mazer Rackham]

The Black Heart Cross Country Qualifier:

 

Tarh:

 

You notice the flutter and bustle of digits and the vox-whine clicks, become aware the others have taken note of it as well. Perhaps it is just theatre. The paranoid might suspect something else.

 

Ukalegon:

 

Maybe the slow pace of the march is no threat to your racing blood, or perhaps you're more into situational awareness. Whilst you notice all, you manage to grasp a few glyphs of the palm-parlance. You may not understand it perfectly, but the nature of the thing means every word must have a break, and certainly an Episilon Universal.

 

Ukalegon ONLY:

 

 

{Legionary} /_ _ e _ /_ _ / _ e / _ _ _ _ /

(Leader) /_ _ e _ / _ _ e / _ e _ _ _ _ / _ _ / _ e _ _ _ e _ /

[OFFSCREEN SCRUTINY TEST - PASS]

(Legionary) /_ _ _ _ / _ _ e / _ _ _ / _ _ _ _ _ e _ /

(Leader) / _ _ _ _ /

(Legionary) (Basic Acknowledge)

(Leader) / _ e _ e / _ e _ _ _ _ / _ _ e _ e /

GM NOTE: You will require a Difficult (-10) Intelligence Test for more. More DoS, more info, plus 1 Letter per DoS.
 

 

Edited September 11 by Mazer Rackham

[Necronaut]

Ukalegon

 

GM ONLY:

 

Intelligence Test: Int35 -10 = 25

D100: 89; nope with 6 degrees of nope

 

OOC: U WOT M8?

Edited September 11 by Necronaut
Formatting

[Mazer Rackham]

Ukalegon ONLY:

You discern the following:

/Instructions/ unclear/ put/ Spiderman/ in/ toaster/.

U GET IT M8?

 

The Avenger:

In the middle of this...hazing, there is a solid, deep-seated shudder beneath your feet, and the Legionaries stop dead, gazes flitting up and down the corridor, casting glances over the hull ceiling and floor deck, instinctively looking for decompression collapses, compartment shearing, and the like. In an instant, the solid clunk-clank of magboots activating follows, and the ship begins to list.

 

+Make ready!+ the commander bellows, his vox-grille a snarl.

 

Another terrible rumble belches from behind and above, the ungainly rupture of a large gut, but the ship-born and machine-master will know. It is the sound of a massive explosion in a confined space. Immediately, power fails in your section, replaced by cackling as the shade-dwellers scamper in freedom, except the Legionaries are right there, but no chittering nonsense broaches your immediate group. Eska, ears back, legs set in a ready brace, growls and snuffs hard at the dark, the deep rumble in her chest somehow sympathetic to the coiled snakes about.

 

All is silent confusion, until the scarlet emergency lights flicker to life. All in the passageway is as it was, except for strange, orange lines rapidly painting and vanishing.

 

The Legionaries tense, as the shipwide vox crackles, the servitor voice a snark and snap of micro-fissured sonics.

 

++ WARNING, WARNING: WARP INCURSION, AMIDSHIP. SEEK SHELTER. WARP INCURSION AMIDSHIP. SEEK SHELTER ++

 

+Alright, our little game will have to wait. Where's the breach?+

 

A Legionary taps his helm. +Flight deck Alpha-one.+

 

+What have they done?+ There is a definite pause, then the Commander is in control once more. +We'll take the spine mag-rail, and be there in five. Let's go.+

[Lord_Ikka]

The Smiler

 

Throughout the march, Crux'as remained silent and thoughtful. He wasn't concerned about possibly meeting the Blackheart, in fact it would be rather enlightening to see one so blessed by the Gods. Blessed, but still mortal and in control of his mind- truly magnificent. Astartes had a leg up on mortals in gaining the favors of the Gods, but with enough effort and subtle application of will or sacrifice anything was possible. The Smiler's mind wandered through the possibilities, ignoring such things as bickering, barked orders, or hand-signs.

 

Toughness Test

Target - 44 + 10 (rested) = 54

Roll - 08

Result = Pass, 4 DoS

 

Perception Test

Target - 32

Roll - 58

Result = Failure, 2 DoF

.....

 

The explosion was unexpected, members of the group reacting with alarm or intense focus. The Smiler merely loosened his sword in its scabbard. He had been through several warp breaches before, but it wasn't something he enjoyed. Fighting the misshapen dregs of aetheric madness was never pleasant. If possible, he would leave the physical labor to those like Kraggan or the marines, as they were more suited for this battlefield.

[Lysimachus]

Hagga:

 

Rykaz moved immediately, setting himself for zero-g combat as best he could. Then the ship's gravity reasserted itself, and he thumped back down to the deck. The klaxon sounded the warning and one of the Alpha Legionnaires identified the location of the threat. The hangar bay where Rakash had been headed.

 

Bloody arrogant psykers… what the hell have you done now?

 

With a curt order to Eska, Hagga fell in with Valex's troops. When there was the danger of a warp incursion, you forgot about your squabbles and fought together until the threat was dealt with. It was the only pragmatic way to handle such a situation. Of course, he kept his eyes open too. After all, maybe such slippery traitors as these weren't as pragmatic as he was?

 

As they headed for the mag-rail tube, Hagga tried to prepare himself for what was to come. He loosened his sword in its sheath and checked his ranged weapons. He didn't really plan to use either gun, as from his understanding the creatures of the Warp were usually more vulnerable to melee weapons; blades and hammers and fists. Fire was good, too, though he couldn't see if any of their little company was armed with a flamer. Pity.

 

He also tried to prepare mentally. Though he could hardly call himself a faithful son of the Emperor, he knew that firm belief, self-confidence and contempt were powerful tools against the monsters born of the Otherness.

 

We shall crush the warp-spawned filth and hurl them from the decks of our ship. We shall make them regret the moment they thought to make us their prey. We are the bloody Astartes, and we cannot be defeated.

 

The thoughts circled in his mind, becoming like one of the litanies of the Death-Speakers. Kill-urge spiked in his veins, building as his mind and body egged each other onwards, preparing him for swift, brutal violence.

 

When the mag-rail car arrived, Hagga stepped in with an eager snarl, echoed by Eska as she followed him aboard.

 

 
 

[Mazer Rackham]

Docking Bay Alpha (All Players except Rakash):

 

The magrail is in reasonable working order, thanks probably to the goads of bigger bullies forcing the menials into doing the work. The inertial buffers catch the car as it reaches the quay, allowing you to alight in good order. The Legionaries are taking no chances, and leave the car quickly, smoothly forming a combat wheel to cover any direction with their deadly weapons.

 

The Commander does not dawdle, but the pace is coherent, accounting for the slowest among you. The brief respite of the lounges within the mag-car is enough to restore your normal vigour. Tension, perhaps or alchemical means do the rest. The party follows the music of violence still happening. Secondary explosions - and now you can hear the screaming.

 

Unnatural, a shriek that comes without human vocal chords attached, echoes down the passageways you are proceeding through. The ship lists again, not enough to lose footing, but enough to dislodge placed items forgotten by their owners, a wrench, spare nuts and bolts. This mechanical detritus begins to roll against the shift of mass and generated gravities, in impossible defiance. With another shudder, all returns to normal.

 

At the outer bulkhead door, the armed crew on guard remain at their posts. Lifeless hands have abandoned their weapons - crude cudgels, battered autopistols and old Navy issue laspistols. The eight sentries lie about without a scratch on them, no intruder has wrought gory tendency here. No blood is on the deck, but closer inspection reveals dried, parched skin. Were that they looked peaceful, merely asleep and serene, but this is not so. Their blank stares register a glassy horror in a rictus mask of frightened vigilance.

 

Perhaps the warp-sensitive will realise this is the high watermark of whatever caused the harm. The battle-hardened will realise that if something got through a reinforced bulkhead door, the airlock behind, and now the one you're stood in front of - armour means nothing.

 

Then, suddenly - vertigo. A deep, wrench of falling, before it violently, desperately yanks sideways, and it feels as if the ship has just pitched ninety degrees to the left.

 

GM: Players must pass a Challenging (+0) Willpower Test or be sick/fall over (your choice). If you have purchased Sound Constitution, have Machine or Lyman's Ear, or a WP of 50, you may re-roll. Obviously if you have magboots, you can't fall. Note I didn't say prone - you just collapse to a knee, against the wall etc. Let this guide your narrative for what makes sense to you.

 

The Commander checks, whilst a Legionary activates a scanner, shakes his head. The Marine Officer jerks his chin at Xerxes, then Kraggan.

 

+The door has lost power. Open it.+

 

GM: Powering the door is up to you. Using Implants will require the normal tests as described by the text in the implant description (if any). Repowering form a ship-board source is will require an extended (3) Challenging (+0) Tech Use Tests. These will be opposed. The DoS you gain will open the door by an amount equivalent. If you exceed or equal 10 DoS, both doors open fully, immediately.

 

Edited September 13 by Mazer Rackham

[Lysimachus]

Hagga:

 

Wp test: Wp42, Roll: 72, Lyman's Ear Reroll: 30, Pass with 2DoS.

 

Eska? Wp05(!), Roll: 69, Machine Reroll: 11, Fail! (pretty close, though… I don't know if having 4 legs helps at all here?)

 

 

Piling out behind the Alpha gunline, and freed from the close confines of the mag-rail car, Hagga immediately drew his sword and activated it. The long blade lit up slowly, gradually turning a deep, cherry red along the edge, but becoming even brighter nearer the power field conduits, flickering orange and yellow and white hot at the core. The ever-changing light cast odd, twisted shadows on the bulkhead, but Hagga firmly ignored them.

 

As they approached the portal, the deck jumped beneath their feet again. The Executioner kept his balance comfortably, aided by the miraculous genetic enhancements placed within his body. Eska seemed to struggle slightly, four legs spread wide in an attempt to compensate. She uttered a part-whine, part-growl, not understanding the source of the sudden movement, but still becoming increasingly angered by it.

 

“Someone get that damn thing open,” Hagga grunted, “and then get the hell out of our way.”

 

[Mazer Rackham]

GM: OOC, I'll rule that because Eska has Quadruped, she still falls over, but she may stand back up for free if we go to Initiative. I forgot she has such a dangerously low WP. Interesting...

[A.T.]

Xerxes:

 

Approaching a warp anomaly was profoundly unwise according to all recorded instruction of the mechanicus, as was the ships continued passage through the immaterium under such circumstances. But the mechanicum had kept its own council on many things the the astartes here clearly had previous experience, perhaps free of the dictates of the creed to develop more practical solutions to such incursions.

 

Mechadendrites moved automatically to compensate for the shifting gravity but was it true movement or simply a trick of the mind as augmetics and flesh senses returned differing opinions.

 

As others stumbled about him he approached the door staying clear of the opening that the outer bulkhead would remain between him and whatever lay beyond. Whatever the truth of past warnings it was known not to risk looking upon the untamed warp... at least not until others had proven it safe.

 

 

Arcs of lightning flashed around Xerxes seeking out conduits beneath the armoured hull and the dull hum of his potentia coil grew loud as the air around him took on the faint blue glow of ionization. Secondary components of the door flickered and burnt in protest but the motors within absorbed the energy as they began to respond to his will.

 

 

WP test: 14 - pass

(Ephialtes the half-servitor waves his little mechanical arms futilely capable neither of falling over nor being sick)

 

Luminen capacitors : (difficult test, comparable to shuttle electronics ???)

Target : 50 -10 (difficulty), +10 (quality), +20 (enhanced coil) = 70

Roll : 45 - pass, two extra DoS

 

It takes a full minute to fully charge a piece of equipment -i.e. refilling a lascannon power pack - but I imagine it only takes few moments to get a door moving for a one-off use.

[Necronaut]

Ukalegon

 

The ship lurched sickeningly under his feet, and Ukalegon was immediately reminded of the Battle of Optera. But this was somehow much, much worse. An entity from beyond had broken into the ship, and they had not yet even made the transition into the Warp. 

 

He drew his chainsword and infernus pistol, expecting the worst to await them beyond the door upon which the mortals feverishly worked.

 

Willpower Test: WP46 

D100: 28; pass with 2 DoS

 

OOC: Ukalegon is prepared to obliterate the door with the meltagun if we run into problems, but I'm happy to let our Dark Mechanicus friends have their moment to shine (darkly). ;)

Edited September 14 by Necronaut
Updated placeholder

[Mazer Rackham]

Airlock:

 

The door cranks open exactly twelve inches, then stutters.

 

+Tarh Teshub - get in there. Work the panel to try and get a cycle going.+

 

The immediate airlock space is illuminated red, showing there is power within. No evacuation of air occurs, meaning there is atmosphere beyond. Peering inside it appears empty. A rough gauge reveals it is a effectively a room, roughly five metres across, with the same again depth. It is four metres high. Decking panels are twisted and split, revealing cabling and conduit junctions, sparking and spitting.

[Lord_Ikka]

The Smiler

 

The simulated movement of the deck caught the Smiler unprepared. He skidded to his knees as the wave of dizziness slammed him. 

 

WP Test

Target - 45

Roll - 88

Result - Failure, 4 DoF

[Trokair]

Tarh

 

WP:28

D100:21, not falling over, phew

 

 

The sudden shift of gravity, or the sensation at least, almost cost him his balance. The instinctive movement to compensate and stabilise would have left him of balance, but at the last moment he caught himself. The preysight masked belied the tilting floor, and years of being in the field with one had thought him to trust the little readouts of the mask. His little sideways stagger to keep his footing would however looked comically, and no doubt the Hydra would have seen.

 

+Tarh Teshub - get in there. Work the panel to try and get a cycle going.+

 

 Of course the Hydra would pick on him for this, though none Chosen would fit through the gap at present. Of the others left in the company, few as they were, the Mech aliened would be better suited to work the door from this side as one already was, while the grinning man had been worse affected then he.

 

Weapon at the ready Tarh advanced on the breach between the two halve of the door. With no immediate thread visible, other than the potential to be ignominiously crushed if the doors were to slam shut again, he squeezed deeper into the gap. Wriggle a little that way, then this way; adjust the strap on his armour here. It felt like many minutes, but probably was just a few seconds, then he was through.  

 

Crouch, scan the room for threats, none. Readjust his armour and possessions. Ready to go once more. He had spotted the manual door controls as soon as he was through, but securing the room took precedence. A few quick steps and he was there.

 

+Clear, engaging controls now+

 

The main controls were unresponsive, but the manual hydraulic backup worked. Push and pull, push and pull. With each leaver movement the gears winched the door another fraction.    

[Mazer Rackham]

The Airlock:

 

As the door slowly grinds open, the inner door is revealed. Unlike the outer door which Tarh squeezed through, this seals horizontally, as opposed to vertically.

 

Once the mechanism is locked in place, and you enter the airlock, there is a muted sound of massed bolter fire and that ululating screaming wavering up and down in a broad chorus of some kind of Operatic Remembrance. It is frequently broken by laughter and the sharp cries of men and women dying or howling in pain.

 

It is at this point something extremely heavy thumps into the airlock door. It is less a hammer on anvil, more akin to a huge wrecking ball thumping home onto a solid, unforgiving plate. Metal creaks, hinges sway. The teeth of the locking interface begin to peel apart, the leaves liplike in an odd, almost apologetic grin as the door slowly collapses inwards, being pulled away slowly, with painful squealing as hydraulic limbs are torn out from cast-plasteel actuators. Oil sprays thickly, gouts of machine-blood whipping in great slashes as the three tonne door finally gives with a shriek that could be from the throat of the cruiser itself.

 

Within is Chaos.

 

Blood is shivering up vertical surfaces, rippling in great rivulets and tides, climbing against deck vertices, in abhorrence to the laws of even feigned gravity. Bodies lie torn and cut, throats severed, glittering amber glyphs floating around them like flies looking to lay eggs in the corpse-meat. Noise makes no sense, all is loud, there is no other word. It is a punishing cacophony of never-noise, of un-speak, of Immaterium Aetheric. Language is nought, understanding it is only achieved through basic comprehension as you mind latches onto parts of the reality before snatching away again.

 

Patterns of light and shadow cavort across the flight deck, half-corpses - torsos with no legs, legs without bodies, hang or lie everywhere. In the centre of this....confusion, stands a ragged titan, an Astartes in battered scarlet, black and gold warplate. His face is a ruin, his body augmented with black-steel cybernetics. It appears he will collapse at any moment as the storm batters him, but no. His eyes meet yours, and in that sharing you see the will beneath. 

 

He is power.

 

Flaming convocations spewing from the palm of a mighty power fist, his other palm wielding a brutal axe, hacking and hacking down again with the consummate skill of a veteran headsman. Around him, the bulwarks bricks of his Terminator Bodyguard, all armed with a ridiculous medley of weapons both normal and profane. The shades around him cling and stab, but he snarls, and his men redouble their efforts.

 

Matched to his ferocity is a vision of exquisite beauty. She is beyond normal, beyond perfect, yet her face and limbs are harrowed by thick chitin and purple-blue ichor. She almost dwarfs him, broad claws looking to sweep and cut. Gore coats her legs to the knee, and the hurricane tugs and yanks at her in invisible pull - only her hair, long tresses of barbed, silken wire, attest to the presence of this force upon her.

 

If you deem to take your eyes off her, you look down to find Rakash. He slumps from the door he has just been hurled against, armour crack and smoking from an encounter with....warp knows what. His comrades, or at least those dressed similarly, lie about smashed and broken, with the exception of one with a tall, spiked helm, who holds his stave up, the crystal matrix about the ram's head glowing with august power that hurts to look at.

 

+I COMMAND THEE HENCE! SUCCUMB AND SERVE!+

 

His words do no carry on vox. They carry on the soul-wind. It is the only interpreter that could ever hope to be heard.

 

She laughs at him, but it is a delicate whimsy, the call of a god to a petulant child.

 

+My Lord - the ritual! It was Rakash's fault-+ the Sorcerer continues.

 

'Insect!' She screams. 'Do not insult my darling that way!'

 

Her tail strikes him in the chest and catapults him across the bay, leaving a glowing, molten wheal across the ornate breastplate of his power armour. She spots you, a smile of recognition on her face. She looks absolutely delighted, even as she ducks and parries the attacks of the maniac in front of her.

 

'My lovely people, more of my wonderful darlings! Come here and let me entertain you! We can have...FUN.'

 

Sparing a glance, the Lord sees your party, his face is a smear of blood and wounds, but he immediately realises that you could be his advantage. +REAVERS! TO ME! BANISH THE HELLION!+ His sheer presence defies the squall, supersedes the tumult.

 

As if stung by the retort or implication to act against her, she waves her hand, and the runes begin to coalesce into small imps, in blue and purple, swiftly maturing into something resembling her majestic, graceful form, with pincers, hooves and vestigial horns. They all resemble her, the fangs and smile, and each has her voice.

 

'Come and play! Come and play! Come and DIE.'

 

The Commander looks levelly at Tarh in a brief window of respite in the noise and celestial fireworks. It appears to coincide with the erupting of the entities now charging at you.

 

+There is Lord Huron Blackheart.+ He waves his hand at the monster Space Marine. 'Perhaps you can ask him your questions? After you...+

 

GM: I'll pause here for effect. Feel free to write your observations and reactions.

 

GM: @Xin Ceithan I require you to burn an Infamy Point, or die. Your reach has meddled with the gods beyond your grasp. You may narrate the harrowing experience of a ritual gone wrong...

 

Edited September 14 by Mazer Rackham
I cna't Sphell

[Necronaut]

Ukalegon

 

The blood drained from the Lamenter’s face when the second set of blast doors finally ground open with a sickening, fleshy groan. This was no mere daemonic incursion: something truly powerful had breached the thin veneer of sanity that separated reality from Hell. In the center of the hangar, Ukalegon’s new liege lord and his fallen terminator bodyguard, each clad in thoroughly desecrated warplate, replete with skull-studded trophy spikes and all manner of blasphemous fetishes and slathered with the ebon and crimson of the reaver lord, were beset by a whirling gyre of shadow and blood, innumerable shades clawing at their armour with aetheric talons.

 

But those imps paled in comparison to the monstrosity, the abomination which towered over them all. She, if such an appellation truly applied, was wondrous to gaze upon, a thing of aching, malign, otherworldly beauty.

 

And she was going to kill them all.

 

Ukalegon primed his mighty sidearm, whose very speech was nuclear death, and revved his chainsword as the Reaver Lord commanded them to join battle.

 

He whispered the ancient words of his chapter to himself and the intake turbofans of his battered jump-pack sprang to life with a keening whine.

 

“For those we cherish, we die in glory! For those we cherish, we die in glory…!”

 

But he cherished none around him.

Edited September 14 by Necronaut

[Lysimachus]

Hagga:

 

When the airlock door was torn away, Hagga let out a Stygian curse word. What the damn had the filthy warp-whisperers caused here? For that matter, what had he caused by bringing the monstrous thing here from its prison on Khymara? It looked like Rakash and his kindred had paid the price for their actions. Was he also about to? Maybe. If so, he'd face it blade in hand.

 

He tightened his grip, trying to think, trying to make tactical sense of the madness swirling before him…  towards him. The Executioners looked like barbarians, but they were true sons of Dorn. Professional soldiers. Strategists. The Astartes now gathered in this hold were a powerful force, sufficient to conquer all manner of fearsome foes. However, they were disparate. Huron's Reavers, Valex's Legionnaires, not to mention Rykaz and Ukalegon. He barely even considered all the mismatched mortals.

 

“Hold together,” he snarled loudly to those in the airlock around him, directing his words primarily towards the Harrowmaster. “Push forward and link up with those Terminators. If we can put down that daemon-, the rest is just mopping up.”

 

He spoke through his armour's speakers, on all channels, unsure of who could hear. As he ran out of tactical suggestions, he found himself still speaking, uttering aloud the words that had been circling in his mind. He made his voice cold, measured, stoic, wrapped around a plasteel core of savage anger and hatred.

 

“We shall crush the warp-spawned filth and hurl them from the decks of our ship. We shall make them regret the moment they thought to make us their prey. We are the bloody Astartes, and we cannot be defeated.”

 

 

 

Edited September 17 by Lysimachus

[Machine God]

Kraggan:

 

They had passed through the recalcitrant portal into a nightmarish maelstrom. Huron Blackheart was assaulted by a siren of hellish beauty, such sickly beauty repulsed him and stoked his anger as it was anathema to the calling words he had lately heard.

 

 

+REAVERS! TO ME! BANISH THE HELLION!+ Huron commanded, his sheer presence defied the squall, superseded the tumult.

 

 

Kraggan charged the sickly apparition and buried his Power Axe into one of its limbs.

 

"I will take your skull later Witch for my lords Throne!"

 

 

 

 

WS41 = 41. Result: 02, Pass 3 Dos

Fallen Magos Power Axe Damage: 2d10+4, Pen 6,.

Damage: 11 +4 = 15

 

 

 

 

WIL 32 +20 (Easy) +10 Radiant Presence (Smiler) -5 (The Maddening Chorus) = 57. Result: 27, Pass 3DoS

 

 

 

"Hideous Hag!

 

 

 

 

 

Edited September 18 by Machine God
The Maddening Chorus

[Mazer Rackham]

GM: As I said, we are on pause for the remaining players to post, so I won't be making rolls or call for rolls until we've had a few more posts in and I'm satisfied we've got the majority up to speed.

 

GM: Also on that note, once that is complete, I will be making prep for Initiative.

[Lord_Ikka]

The Smiler

 

The Smile fades and goes sightly crooked. 

 

"Am I to assume it is too late to solve this with words then?"

 

His words are harsh as he moves from his knees and slowly draws his blade. The dueling hilt is chill in his hand.

 

"Very well then."

[A.T.]

Xerxes:

 

A breach in realspace... a charge with axes and bolters seemed little use save perhaps as a distraction should this Huron or his sorcerer possess a means to close it. But Xerxes was no fool and kept bulkhead between himself and the worst of the madness, perhaps if might be possible to jettison the section or vent it all into space, or else restore enough of the ships power to this area to ignite the atmosphere and burn them all.

[Lysimachus]

Hagga:

 

The reavers set themselves to a steady advance, but one of the mortals, a tech-adept of some description, suddenly hurled himself forward towards the daemonic harridan with atypical ferocity. Hagga blinked. Had some chaos-madness possessed the machine man?

 

At the same moment, Eska growled loudly, then began to bark furiously at the twisting warp shapes. Though her animal mind could never understand the true nature of their foe, she knew that they were dangerous. Her response, natural instinct undoubtedly reinforced by brutal training, was all out attack.

 

Hagga reached out with his free hand and grabbed the hound's collar, catching her just before she could follow the crazed mortal into combat. She strained against his grip, snarling horribly and snapping wildly at an ethereal form that twirled past their line with ghostly laughter.

 

“Exspecta!” the Executioner growled back at the savage canid, “Hold, damn you! Not until I say!”

 

 

Eska prepares to Frenzy.

 

 

[Trokair]

Tarh

 

“Commander, you should not have, arranging an honour duel between your Lord and a one of The Youngling’s own, it’s too much.”

 

For all the effort that Tarh put in sounding jovial you can all tell that he is deeply unnerved by the unrestrained presence of one of the Utukku. The countless children and lesser descendents of the Pantheon were by their nature capricious and unpredictable.  

[Mazer Rackham]

Flight-Deck Hangar:

 

ORIENTATION MAP:

 

 

GM ENCOUNTER INFORMATION:

 

EDITS:

 

• Delphynie is currently in melee combat with multiple opponents and a PC; Kraggan. Note that any Ballistic Attack against Delphynie that misses (by two DoF) will strike a random NPC within the combat instead. As per BC: Core, shots into Melee are Hard (-20).
• Delphynie is Size 6, (Enormous) attacks against her are Easy (+20)
• The Warp breach is a localised rift being generated by a ritual of binding (this will not be perfectly obvious, but there are candles, icons, censers etc to give the idea) this ritual is completely out of control, and now cannot be completed. The only way to remove Delphynie is by banishment.
• There are huddled, cowering groups of sacrificial victims in the launch bay, shying away from the tumult. They are scared beyond belief, minds half-shattered with the madness of their witness. They are all marked with blasphemous runes cut into their flesh, (faces, hands, chests etc). They will be ill-disposed to reason or persuasion. They are currently manacled together.
• The Ritual Circle is incomplete, but like on Khymara, can be inverted. This will require an Extended Test involving Forbidden Lore and Willpower. I will discuss the details with whoever undertakes this.
• Blood, guts and snot are all over the place. This is not enough to create Difficult Terrain, but Running or Sprinting will require an Easy (+20) Agility Test or go prone (At the end of movement). Magboots negate this.
• The Flight Deck Controls are located in the main oversight blister. The path to which is through the hangar (90 metres from the airlock door) and up a series of four ramps (each 10 metres long, with a gentle incline). The blister door will be secured, and requires a Hard (+20) Security Test to open. The main panels to open the hangar doors will require Tests to override the security locks to engage the full functions to do as the operator wills. These tests are as follows, one per turn, in sequence:
  • 1 x Difficult (-10) Tech Use Test
  • 1 x Difficult (-10) Security, or Hard (-20) Tech Use Test
  • 1 x Hard (-20) Security, or Very Hard (-30) Tech Use Test.
  • Assistance may be given to the Tests.
• There are loose items on the deck, which are caught in the push and throw of the howling grye being cast by the warp rift. Once per turn, a random PC or NPC will be subjected to a random attack by debris, crates, barrels, toolboxes. These items will be considered 'Thrown Weapons' and can be Dodged or Parried.
• Delphynie is joined by the Sirensong. These have the appearance of child-sized Daemonettes, which have the following profile:

 

The Sirensong:

 

The Hauntings of the Oracle, the Shadow Children, a rarely seen form of Slannesh's odd call to doom and chaos. They always follow a 'parent' being or manifestation of the Greater Ones of the Perverse Prince of Excess. Their unholy countenances are forever fixed in wicked grins, the innocence of their faces at odds with the evil, glowing eyes, and wickedly slanted grins. Grins no so different from certain members of your own clade...they clamour with needling laughter and strange songs which they repeat ad infinitum, the aether-tainted songs of daemonic children, eternally at play.
 

WS: 20 BS: 10 S: 20 T: 20 AG: 50 Int: 13 Per: 14 WP: 25 Fel: 05 Inf: 00

Movement: 5/10/15/30 Wounds: (HORDE SIZE ??).
Armour: None Total TB: 2

Skills: Awareness (Per), Dodge (Ag) +20, Stealth (Ag) +20
Talents: Heightened Sense (Smell, Hearing, Sight).
Traits: Daemonic (+1), From Beyond, Deadly Natural Weapons, Size (Puny), Swarm/Horde, Daemonic Instability.
Weapons: Claws and Bitey Teeth! (1d10+2 R; Pen 3; Tearing).

The Maddening Chorus:
All enemies within 5 metres of the Sirensong suffer a –5 penalty to Willpower Tests.

 

GM: Questions and screaming in the OOC, as pr usual.

 

++ PLAYERS DO NOT POST. ++

 

Edited September 19 by Mazer Rackham
Extra instructions for clarity - distances, descriptions clean up, profiles modified, etc

[Mazer Rackham]

+++ NARRATIVE TIME ENDS +++

 

++ STRUCTURED TIME BEGINS ++

 

GM INSTRUCTIONS:

 

Kraggan has already declared his actions, so by the book has effectively used his first Turn. However, since his attack didn't cause damage, it therefore requires no response and shall count as a single out-of-turn (OOT) action. I have also ruled that Eska Frenzy is also a single OOT action, and therefore Kraggan/@Machine God  is free to make any Actions he wishes when his Initiative Step comes, as is Eska, as per usual, and of course, any Reactions that do not occur upon their respective turns.

 

This is a singular permission.

 

Now that's out of the way, and everyone has had a chance to plot, you can all take a chance at death glory.

 

Gentlemen.

 

Initiatives.

[Necronaut]

Ukalegon

 

Initiative: 2d10kh (Lightning Reflexes) + Ag5

4 10 (LR) + 5 = 15

Edited September 19 by Necronaut