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

[Mazer Rackham]

GM: @Mojake the bomber's corpse is currently in the Apothecarion, in storage under the care of Iscario. Assume three random Armsmen are appointed to you.

[Mojake]

Varne

 

+Bridge to Varne,+ the voice echoing through his helm vox was a woman's. +My lord, we have two individuals aboard who served in a sapper regiment of the Luggnum Sewer Rats; Kade and Ghar ibn Kharan. Alternatively, Symon, one of the workers from Opal, stated on conscription to have experience with mining-class explosives.+

 

+Have all three of them report to the Arvus in the hangar bay in thirty minutes,+ he growled back across the channel.

 

+Yes, lord. The corpse of the saboteur is in the care of the Corpse-taker,+ came her response. As fast as his mutated leg could, Varne pivoted sharply, taking a left turn towards the Apothecarion. 

 

Less than ten minutes later, he entered Iscario's work-room, the wet slap of his tentacled leg squelching on the tiled floor. "Cutter, I require the saboteur's brain," he stated matter-of-fact, removing his helm.

[Iron Father Ferrum]

Obadiah:

 

He watched through the Wasp's forward screen as the cutter drifted sedately out of the Razor's Edge's hangar bay.  He was conscious of the fact that the mortal flying the aircraft was not Mukta, who'd done a decent job getting himself and Atesh off of Penitence.  He'd never made it off of Brimstone.  He was hoping that this menial was at least as good.

 

When he spoke, his words were directed at the pilot, though he pitched his voice loud enough for Tarh -- behind him in the passenger compartment -- to hear as well.  "This is an Arbites gun-cutter," he began, "and I want you to fly it like it is precisely that.  Anyone orders you around via vox, you tell them calmly and firmly that you're on Arbites business and promptly ignore them.  Understand?"  At her nod, he continued, "Good.  You're going to set down about five kloms outside of the Astropathic Relay, then keep your vox open.  We may need rapid exfiltration."

 

He moved back in the compartment and stood over Tarh, who was strapped into a crash-couch.  "You and I are going to infiltrate on foot; your companion will have to stay with the ship.  I want to avoid any bloodshed until we're at least in the building, so keep your las cold unless an Imperial has you dead to rights.  Once we're inside, we need to kill every Astropath we can find, ideally without anyone raising an alarm."  He racked the slide on Fate's Eye, made sure that Silence was secure in its sheath, then pulled his helmet on.  He waited a moment for his plate's spirit to activate the helmet's systems, listening with a slight smile as the seals engaged and the red-tinted lenses displayed a HUD across his vision.  When next he spoke, his voice was a gravelly growl from the helm's vox-mitter.  "Any questions?"

[Trokair]

Tarh

 

“No questions, Chosen, I’ll get us close the tower, don’t you worry.”

 

He pulled out a dataslate and pulled up the map and orbital pic scans of the region.

 

“While I won’t know until I can see the terrain in person, I think there are several good routes to approach the Tower.”

 

He quickly sketched a few out on the map dataslate.

 

“This one here, approaching form the north east, gets close to the river bank a few times, and there should be a good place for Mithra to linger while we are at the tower. Close enough that afterwards we can slip back that way and then cross into the city proper without having to go all the way back to the Lander. Assuming the river is no obstacle to you.”

 

 

OCC: I am assuming that between Navigation (Surface), Survival and Stealth Tarh can find a route to get us close and stash Mithra somewhere safe during the sharp end of the Tower operation, will make rolls as required when down on the ground.

 

  

[Mazer Rackham]

Varne:

 

Iscario doesn't even look up from whatever cultures he's busy assessing.  +Help yourself.+

 

He points to a tall cylinder which contains...chunky slurry. The water is cloudy with sediment of varying hues, red-purple and a hint of mauve. The pattern of front-lobes and hemispheres are disturbed by the odd bubble which erupts from the congealing mess at the bottom of the plasicrystal storage tank.

 

+I enjoy an Amygdalan Smoothie as much as the next fellow, but I would strongly recommend against it. The toxin the man used in his suicide is extremely potent, and rather dangerous.+

Edited April 22 by Mazer Rackham

[Mojake]

Varne

 

+I enjoy an Amygdalan Smoothie as much as the next fellow, but I would strongly recommend against it. The toxin the man used in his suicide is extremely potent, and rather dangerous.+

 

"I see."

 

He stood as if in contemplation for a few seconds, before letting out a deep exhale. "These sappers had best prove their worth," he muttered to himself, turning to leave.

_______

 

Varne stood in the centre of the Arvus, his bulk taking up most of the passenger bay of the small craft. Sat before him were three individuals; a dark-skinned man with a scarf drawn up to his nose to hide a hideous facial mutation, a wiry looking man with tattooes covering his bald head, and a man in a stained duty uniform sporting a cracked pair of spectacles. It was this latter man who stared down the barrel of Varne's autocannon nervously as the astartes held it at ease in both hands. The Doom Eagle stood in silence, the icy blue eye lenses staring down at the mortals 3 ft. in front of him, pinning them in place and causing them visible discomfort. Behind his helm, Varne simply looked above the men and out of the viewing glass, watching the shrinking shape of the Razor's Edge slowly fade from view. 

 

The miner and the bald man had both managed to acquire autoguns from the various arms aboard their ship, whilst the dark-skinned man sat with a combat shotgun on his lap. Each of them held a satchel or duffel bag which contained a bundled charge, with the remainder hanging from Varne's belt. 

 

They had been briefed as they boarded the Arvus, each of them nodding affirmations at Varne's instruction regarding the weakpoints on the locks. The miner, Symon, had displayed a moment's hesitation, which lasted until he was reminded by the others of his wife still aboard the Razor's Edge with a few choice words. Varne hadn't remarked on this, seeing the efficacy of their savage intimidation bearing fruit within seconds of being voiced.

 

As their voidship shrunk to an indiscernible speck against the blackness of the void, he clenched his jaw.

 

Now we wait.

[Mazer Rackham]

GM: I'm going to move us on.

 

As your various craft make atmospheric entry, you are hailed by vox-beacons which have been deployed both aerially by anti-grav motor launch, and from groundside. The signals are potent and strong. Your pilots/copilots advise augurs are probing the craft.

 

Obadiah:

 

+Unregistered Arbites vessel. This planet is under martial law. All void, ground, and air traffic is restricted. Come to heading Three-two-four immediately, and land at Two-Four-Three-Six, by Five-Five-Two-One, or be fired upon for non-compliance - by the order of the Provost Marshal.+

 

The co-pilot of the Wasp plots the co-ordinates. 'Sir, that would put us down right in the Arbites precinct.'

 

+Unregistered vessel, this is Arbites Control. Your Transponder matches a vessel stolen from a penitentiary within this system. You will comply, and be boarded.+

 

Edited April 22 by Mazer Rackham

[Trokair]

Tarh

 

“Well that’s a problem, and I did not pack parachutes for either of us,” seeing the Chosen's Helmet dip back his way he added, “or you.”

 

Levity aside, under his breath Tarh uttered a prayer to the 8 while reassuring Mithra with a pat. If things where about to get turbulent then he did not want the great Tortoise to panic.

Edited April 22 by Trokair

[Mazer Rackham]

GM OOC: Yeah, they rolled a 003 for detection.

 

Tarh:

 

The walking artillery platform, surprisingly agile for a beast of size and burden, moves her shape just enough to bump your leg, and her head comes up to your hip. It appears she wants head scratches.

 

Edited April 22 by Mazer Rackham

[A.T.]

Xerxes:

 

Orange robes, vox booster, what throne geld he could obtain, and extinguishing equipment. This was to be a mundane landing but it would seem that the mutants prior misdeeds had done nothing for their chances as the planet was now under martial law.

 

Turning to Crux'as, "Do you believe that your contact on the surface can provide us with suitable clearance? Forging a work order for this vessel with Grenzs' access is possible but may not withstand scrutiny."

 

Their return had avoided attention thusfar, best they light no more fires until the true assault begins.

Edited April 22 by A.T.

[Machine God]

Kraggan

 

Healed by his black blood, he had taken his leave of the High Magos after the system purge had been successfully completed. 

 

Less a couple of deep-cached files. 

 

He boarded the Starhawk with the Astartes. You could burn through deck-plating with the heat from the animosity present. 

 

 

 

 

[Iron Father Ferrum]

Obadiah:

 

"Well that's unexpected," he muttered before plugging a line into the craft's comm unit.  His mind raced at speeds only a post-human could achieve before responding. 

 

+Arbites Control, check your logs.  We are neither unregistered nor in a stolen craft.  We are delivering personnel from Penitence to the Astropathicus Relay as requested by higher authorities, over.+

 

Spoiler

Deceive Test:

 

Fe 40 - 10 (Assuming the modifier because of pre-existing suspicion) = 30

Roll: 44.  Fail, 1x DoF.

Infamy Point for reroll:

 

Roll: 28.  Pass, 1x DoS.

 

He immediately turned to the pilot.  "New orders," his vox-mitter growled.  "Change your approach, contact the relay and inform them that we are en route with psychic prisoners from the Penitence riot."  He looked over at Tarh.  "And arm the cannon on your...turtle.  We might not be able to do this quietly after all."

 

 

[FabiusV4lcoran]

Atesh Sapik:  

 

Atesh was confused and excited in equal measure.  He was told to bring the molotovs to some shuttle bound for the surface; it sounded like he wouldn't have to waste a ton of time with disguises, which meant to Atesh that he'd PROBABLY get to set more fires.

 

Atesh liked fires.

 

Sapik was thrown, however, by the orders to stick with the sorcerer.  He remembered a number of personages from the Crow's vision, but this one was not there.  Regardless, he could feel the ghost realm radiating off the sorcerer...the best analogy he could think of was being a house pet in the shadow of the originally designed predator.  

[Mazer Rackham]

Obadiah:

 

GM OOC: Sorry lad, they bust you faster than a gym teacher finding you with an ice cream in the equipment locker.

 

Static. Long static.

 

It is broken by an alarm and a flashing red light on the console. The pilot doesn't even turn around.

 

'Predator augurs have us bracketed. Brace for evasive manoeuvres!'

 

'Tracking incoming ordnance package. On your HUD...now,' the co-pilot is obviously under intense pressure, but does well keeping it bottled.

 

'Evading!'

 

The Wasp bucks and rolls as the pilot saws the guncutter left and right, desperately pitching and yawing. The bird buffets and rattles as air-bursting, fragmenting warhead score and sear the hull with a cast of iron hailstones on metal panels.

 

 

Evade: 35 + 25 - 20 = 40

D100: Fail, 4 DoF.

 

Hydra Emplacement:

Spoiler

Quad-long barrel HV Autocannons.

Range: 1500m

BaSK: 35 + 10 (Aim) + 20 (Size) - 10 FAB = 55

D100: Hit, 2 DoS + 1 TL = 3 Hits

Dam:

Armour: 25 - 6 = 19

Structural: 30

(1) 33 = 14

(2) 29 = 10

(3) 31 = 12

Total Dam: 36

Vehicle Crit Dam: 6

Penetrating Hit: AP on this facing by half (13).

Shot rips through the interior of the vehicle as well. Each passenger and crew member has a 20 percent chance of being hit by the same shot and taking half of the rolled damage. In addition, the vehicle is now open to the outside.

 

Crew:

Spoiler

20% Pilot: 016, Yes (Killed)

20% Co-Pilot: 63, No

20% Obadiah: 92, No

20% Tarh: 84, No

20% Mithra: 25, No (Nearly!)

 

The Wasp is nearly gutted as the canopy and cockpit is smashed by the flak-gun shells. Smoke billows throughout, filling the cabin and hold with choking, high-pressure smog as the rush of air threatens to push the tongues of flame inside the rapidly dying airframe. A thick, black pencil line sprays out behind the stricken craft, signalling it has been mortally wounded, inviting further salvos.

 

All comms equipment inside the vehicle dies with the pilot, as her brains and innards spatter the hull, and everyone behind her with grisly gruel. The Wasp lists to starboard, threatening to turn turtle and your crash harnesses pull until the strain makes teeth ache and ligaments scream. The craft is hurtling perilously off course, and instead of the Astropath tower, it is headed for (GM: As per OOC, Lucky Number 7?) the PDF HQ and Barracks.

 

Even at this altitude, and with the hurricane of wind hurtling into your ears, you can hear the sound of a siren bawling out across the capital.

 

GM: Tarh must make a Control (Loyalty Test) for Mithra or she might start panicking. (Just a Fel or WP Test, Tro. She trusts you so not Opposed). Another Pilot must take the controls. Obadiah may make a Difficult (-10) Agility Test to reach them and right them, the Co-pilot can help you fly, fall.

[Trokair]

Tarh

 

For a moment he was weightless before being slammed back into his seat. Stars spinning he could sit but helplessly as he was nearly thrown clear again, only the hard pull of the harness against his shoulders kept him there. That would leave a mark in the morning, if there was another morning.

 

The roar of wind was deafening, the shuttle had taken hull damage but Tarh could not see it from where he sat. Mithra had withdrawn into her shell, and it was only the cargo straps that he had used to secure her that prevented her from being flung around, or from crushing Tarh. There was little he could do to calm her now, but none the less he tried with a pray on his lips, the words robed by the wind.

 

“ .... Teacher ... Grandfather ... this hour...

... Warrior... thy br... .....

 ... preserve .... the Smith .... and Scholar...

... from Prince .... Youngling

.... years .... ser  ...

..... luck .... Other ...”

 

Loyalty Test: Fel: 48, d100: 54 ... slight Panic?

[Lord_Ikka]

Crux'as

 

The trip down with Xerxes, Rakash, and Atesh was uneventful, slightly surprising with the cargo of the pyromancer/maniac and a bunch of firebombs. They would be the first down, paving the way for the others and hopefully gaining some valuable intelligence/initiative over their enemies. Using his rapport with the Custodians, Crux'as had finagled an alternative landing sight from Harville, citing the ongoing military lockdown as "inconvenient for business". The Custodians were appreciative of the curtesy, not wanting to deal with receiving a trading shuttle in the midst of all the commotion. With "Factor Bardum's" destination logged as House Jerall's manor, all official inquiry ceased, dealing with the fire's aftermath being a much higher priority than a minor trading concern.

 

House Jerall didn't exactly have a landing pad designed for shuttles, but there were several open fields near the mansion that were suitable for landing. Crux'as advised Rakash and Atesh to wait until nightfall to move out, the physical appearance of either of them would be hard to hide in the daylight, even in a "friendly" area. He and Xerxes exited the shuttle. 

 

The major-domo of the house, Jocelyn, was waiting for them. Before she could greet them Crux'as spoke quickly.

 

"Good to see you again Major-domo. Unfortunately we are running on a very tight schedule to get everything we need to do. May I ask for a moment of the Padruk ladies time? My companion will be moving to Harville shortly, as will others in our shuttle who prefer to remain...anonymous at the moment."

Edited April 23 by Lord_Ikka

[Mazer Rackham]

Tarh:

 

GM: Only a partial fail, so Mithra just stays in her shell, wobbling and jerking from the uncouth handling the Wasp is suffering.

 

Crux'as:

 

Jocelyn conveys you to the sunroom, where the Ladies Padruk are ensconced, taking light (and thankfully without 'alternative ingredients') repast.

 

 

[A.T.]

Xerxes:

 

As they departed the shuttle Xerxes handed a comm-bead to Crux-as and the rest, "these will transmit on a subsignal of the local servitor control grid, an encrypted signal by routine to ensure that the servitors are not compromised. Conversation on this channel is unlikely to be detect until the authorities are given reason, at which point the beads will signify their wearer as a non-target... or at least a non-immediate target."

 

He motioned to the vox relay, "the greater power of the relay will allow you to shield one location at your discretion. Do not activate it before the attack begins and ensure that all local servitor elements are removed from the presence of those you do not wish dead. Do not attempt to extend its range unless you wish the arbite forces to detect and triangulate its position as the likely source of their problems".

 

He left how Crux'as would choose to use that information to his own scheming. For now the workshop and the wider situation demanded his attendance.

[Lord_Ikka]

Crux'as

 

The Smiler bowed to the two nobles.

 

"Ladies, good to see you. My employers are beginning their mission to destroy the current administrator. We have several elite teams that will be incoming in the next twenty-four hours, and I would like to ask for any assistance possible in gaining access to the interior of the kontors. Aside from that, there are certain matters relating to the PDF that we need to discuss."

 

He smiled widely.

 

"The Syndicate has been able to provide a sizeable portion of explosive and incendiary devices with which to equip your fighters. After we are done here, I will link up with Master Cain to make sure the distribution will be smooth. We are very much looking forward to dealing with you in the future after this business is concluded."

Edited April 23 by Lord_Ikka

[Mazer Rackham]

Crux'as:

 

The sisters stand as you enter, offering a small curtsy before resuming their seats.

 

'My dear Bardum, this is good to hear, but...' Karelia beams, 'we have good news, too!'

 

Ursula doesn't hold back, clapping in the giddy and gleeful manner of a schoolgirl just given a pony. 'The Administrator has been executed! For incompetence!'

 

Karelia looks a little more glum. 'Indeed, but the Provost Marshal is no better. He has restricted our financial operations even further! We hoped, my dear Bardum, we hoped that they would turn to us, but no. Thankfully, we have managed to retain our close company. It must be impressed upon the Marshal that he is unsuited to governance, and that he has ready allies only if he would see them!'

 

'The bulk of the immediate council body remains, though,' Ursula adds, excitedly. 'If they could be persuaded...perhaps some way forward could be found.'

 

Karelia nods. 'Of course, our retainers and their strength are at your disposal, Master Bardum. Feel free to travel within our grounds as you please. Beware Jocelyn though, she's a bit of a stickler.'

 

Edited April 23 by Mazer Rackham

[Lord_Ikka]

Crux'as

 

The smile dims slightly.

 

"Hmm. That is interesting information. I will inform the Syndicate and we will focus our efforts on the Provost Marshall. Any issues that occur during his martial law period would look poorly on him and decrease any possible power he has. Our plans should still work properly."

A quick glance at the two.

 

"I was wondering if I could ask you ladies to deal with a slight inconvenience? The PDF assisting the Enforcers in a unified fashion would be less than helpful. A whisper in the PDF Commander's ear to get a certain gambling-obsessed lieutenant assigned to the armory for the next two nights could help immensely, as could the dropping of a few hints in certain noble ears of the Commander's affair between himself his subordinate, as well as a noble daughter. Anything that can disrupt the command structure in a subtle way would help." 

Spoiler

Charm Test - to get the ladies to work on the PDF issues

Target - 62 + 20 (friendly?) = 82

Roll - 51

Result = Pass, 3 DoS

 

 "I will talk to your man Tyro if possible, I believe he would have some information useful to the operations."

[Mazer Rackham]

Crux'as:

 

'Gossip!' Ursula bounces in her seat, her summer dress fluffing. 'We shall, of course! Dear Karelia, shall we have a function?'

 

The Elder sister grimaces. 'If we must. Who shall we ask?'

 

'Merchant Gerhardt is always happy to see us.'

 

'To see you, dear, or more accurately your assets. Wear your low-cut, perhaps the green one. It's his favourite.'

 

The ladies bring your audience to end in a genteel manner, to go about your nefarious business.

 

GM: I'll do some rolls offscreen to determine what will happen and will have the information come through Tyro, but it will take approximately 48 hours. You can use Cain's comms at the camp to talk to the guys in orbit. This may have knock-on for the freighter capture, so the capture team will have to decide to go now, or wait 72 hours for the freighter to once again be in position for assault due to scheduling.

 

GM: As the Wasp is an independent situation, 24-48 hours hence, it remains unchanged.

 

Edited April 23 by Mazer Rackham

[Lord_Ikka]

Crux'as

 

He left the audience with the scions of Padruk, pleased to have them sink social daggers into their enemies. A quick stop to the manor's vox-bank, to inform the Custodians that there would be a few more deliveries from orbit to the Jerall holdings over the next couple of days.

 

Now, to find Tyro quickly and see if he had information about kontor access. Then off to coordinate with Cain. 

 

Lords of the Warp, watch my actions. I will bring blood and souls in your glory!

 

It was about to be a very fun time.

[Iron Father Ferrum]

Obadiah:

 

As soon as the threat klaxons started wailing, Obi hung his head.  "Well, damn."  Then the flak rounds ripped into the nose.  The canopy blew inwards, and the pilot -- another wasted human life to lay at the Imperium's feet, he thought -- was splattered across the faceplate of his helm.  The crafted tilted dangerously to one side, and the co-pilot started yelling and flipping switches.  It was hard to heard anything between the wailing sirens and the wind rushing in through the broken screen, but Obi's autosenses picked up the other mortal's call for help controlling the aircraft.

 

Spoiler

Agility Test

 

Ag 53 - 10 (Difficult) = 43

Roll: 16.  Pass, 3x DoS.

 

The Astartes grabbed the pilot's seat and cranked it out of the way, literally bending the frame with his post-human strength, and reached over the ruin of seat and pilot alike to grab the control yoke.  He jerked the sticks upright and level, and the Wasp -- what was left of it, in any case -- responded sluggishly.

 

"Pilot!  We need to crash as close to the relay as possible, even if it's a water landing.  What do you need from me to make that happen?"

[Mazer Rackham]

Crux'as:

 

GM: a small ground car is provided to you by the Padruks. It is all-terrain capable, two seats, and a small storage compartment.

 

Obadiah:

 

The Co-pilot has hardly any breath to respond, but through gritted teeth, she grunts. 'Nose up. Push right.'

 

The craft protests at your urging, nudging upwards like a Dante's Dellion seed head, blown aloft by a small, excited child. The brutish block of plasteel and ceramite coaxed by your strength and the co-pilot's skill plunges onward, spiralling until the ailerons and thrusters respond to the demand. The landscape pirouettes, pushing the g-forces harder and harder.

 

The Astropathic spire is a tall needle which pitches into view, and out again and again, until the ground, and riverbanks replace it. The river is not far away.

 

GM: All aboard require a Difficult (-10) Toughness Test or become unconscious.

Co-Pilot:

D100: Pass