(Dark Heresy) Ashes of Dawn, OOC

[Cheesegear]

Here's the OOC Thread for the Dark Heresy game, Ashes of Dawn. Try to let everyone post their characters sheets before you start talking OOC.

IC Thread (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?p=8883580#post8883580)

Houserules;
Lore (and the like) checks automatically pass or fail at the GM's discretion. Skill Mastery of Lores increases the GM's leniency.

You can't just have Lore skills and the Peer talent. If you want to get Peer talents over the course of the game, you need to have associated with those organisations before. You actually have to be their Peer.

Using Fate Points
Using a Fate Point doesn't allow you to re-roll the dice. Instead, using a Fate Point counts as if you had rolled a 01 on whatever skill check you just did.
Burning Fate allows you to do something that you would normally automatically fail (within reason, at the GM's discretion).
Fate automatically recovers 5 Wounds, up to your character's maximum wounds.

Otherwise, Fate works as normal.

Minor Psychic Powers do not trigger Psychic Phenomena.

Clerics gain the Blessings of the Emperor Trait.
BotE allows a Cleric with a suitably impressive icon of the Emperor, to Bless those around him. On a successful Willpower and Fellowship check, taking two Full Actions, a Cleric gives a 'Free' Fate Point to as many targets up to his Fellowship Bonus.
This extra Fate Point lasts a number of minutes equal to the Cleric's Willpower Bonus.
Failing either check halves the number of targets affected, and halves the number of minutes the Fate Point lasts. Failing both checks does nothing.

On a successful Willpower and Fellowship check at -30 to each Test, a Cleric may restore a Burned Fate Point to his target. This Blessing may only be performed at the DM's discretion. And only once per Burned Fate Point. Failure is a failure forever.

To give a Blessing, a Cleric must be able to speak and be touching a Holy Icon. To gain a Blessing, the target/s must be able to see and hear the Cleric, and understand what he says.

The Cleric may Bless himself, but he counts as one target.

[LCP]

Chaldia Nimus, Novice of the Broken Hand

Appearance:
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v700/LordChilipepa/ChaldiaNimus.jpg

Fluff:
My earliest memories are of their faces. Smiling, beautiful faces, surrounded by the comforts and luxuries of wealth. My father was a sailor among the stars, and when he returned from his travels he would bring me toys and baubles from worlds beyond the veil of the night sky. I followed in their footsteps with unhesitating trust, and learned at their feet. A folly, and a sin.

I was six when my father’s ‘friend’ – a stern-faced man who I had seen once or twice before, but never for long – brought that world crashing down. My father had been due back from a long voyage, and my mother was waiting for him in the antechamber when the soldiers of the Emperor smashed down the door. At their head was father’s friend – she tried to plead with him, but his soldiers dragged her away. I was too young to understand, and I ran – ran and hid, as the armed and armoured men ransacked our glittering house. They shattered the wonderful things from beyond the stars, they tore down the tapestries and broke open the boxes in which my father kept his most secret treasures. Two of them found me where I was cowering, in my wardrobe – they dragged me out before the eyes of the stern-faced man, and he ordered me taken away. I was too young to understand, and I screamed and struggled as they took me from my home.

I understand now that those gauntleted hands were the hands of salvation. My mother and father were traitors to humanity; my father’s ‘friend’ was an Inquisitor, a man who had spent months gathering the evidence he needed to strike at the root of the rot eating at the city without – my family, my blood. He had ingratiated himself with my father to learn more of his plans, and had learnt all he needed to strike: both captured, both brought to trial, my mother and father were put to death at the head of a score of heretics caught in the same net.

Whether through pity or some more complex motive, I was judged redeemable, and entrusted to the Scholam of the Sisters of the Broken Hand to raise in faithfulness to the Emperor. In those early days I would not accept the things they told me, and I fought against my saviours – even when every word of denial had been repeated a thousand times, I found new ways to rebel, the wickedness of my upbringing multiplying like the heads of the Hydra under the sword of the Emperor’s truth. For five years, I was kept apart from the other children, my education waiting until discipline, punishment and faith had broken the back of my parents’ subversive legacy. The Sisters who strove to save my soul from the abyss appeared to me as tormenting daemons, and I resisted them with all my strength. Today I thank the Emperor for their triumph, and their patience.

I have been remade. I have found purpose in the service of the Emperor, in atonement for the sins of my father. My experience has taught me one thing: that no mortal man or woman is worthy of faith. I have seen first-hand that love and friendship are the veils behind which the Enemy works its most heinous of evils, and so have learned not to trust, not to relent, not to flinch one micrometre from the narrow path of righteousness. That is how I found Professor Alisdair’s books of proscribed philosophy, by not trusting – and when I showed them to the Sisters, they commended me, the first words of praise I had ever heard from their lips. I saw them drag him away, and knew they were taking him to his salvation, just as I had been taken to mine.

Since then, my guardians have taken a new interest in me. I have been tested with opportunities and provocations to return to my sinful childhood ways, deliberately left in my path. I have been interrogated on the fine detail of the Imperial Creed, on the histories and miracles of all the saints of the Calixis sector. I have even been permitted to train with the other Schola children in the schools of armed combat, a privilege that was always denied to me before.

Yesterday, I was taken before the Abbess. Beside her sat a stern-faced man: the man who had uncovered my parents, the man who had spared my life.

When he began to speak, I did not understand him – he said he had spared my life out of pity, out of respect for the man my father might have been, and for my childhood innocence. I was not innocent. My father was a traitor. But he is an Inquisitor, and I trust that his mind works on a higher plane than mine.

He spoke of reports he had received on my progress, of his instructions to the Sisters, of my moulding into a tool worthy to serve the Inquisition, of the proof of my talents in the discovery of the Professor’s heresies – and offered me a chance to serve him. My life has been spent in debt to this man, and to the Emperor. I will repay them both, and die redeemed in the fulfilment of the debt...

Crunch:
WS 32
BS 33
S 31
T 28
Ag 28
Int 32
Per 34
WP 38
Fel 23

Wounds: 11
Fate Points: 2
Insanity: 0
Corruption: 3
XP – Spent: 400 Current: 0

Skills: Awareness, Common Lore (Imperial Creed) (Int), Literacy (Int), Performer (Singer) (Fel), Speak Language (High Gothic, Low Gothic) (Int), Trade (Copyist) (Int)

Talents: Basic Weapon Training (Las, Primitive), Melee Weapon Training (Primitive), Pistol Training (Las, SP), Pure Faith

Traits: Schola Education, Skill At Arms, Sheltered Upbringing, Tempered Will.

Gear: Flail (mono), las pistol & charge pack, carapace chest plate & mesh cowl, aquila necklace, chaplet Ecclesiasticus, vestments, 4 candles, writing kit, copy of the Rule of the Sororitas, Ring of Suffrage.

Funds: 87 thrones.

Advances: Per, WP, BS (Simple), Awareness

[The_Shaman]

I will repost my character post here; while I left the "how did you meet your inquisitor" part fairly vague, I am open to any suggestions about changing it.

"Mongrel," a.k.a. Garvel Drake, Hıve World Arbıtrator:

Stats:


WS: 33 (20+13)
BS: 35 (20+15) + 5 = 40
S: 32 (20+12)
T: 33 (15+18)
Agi: 30 (20+10)
Int: 38 (20+18)
Per: 33 (20+13) +5 = 38
WP: 32 (20+12)
Fel: 37 (25+12)

Wounds: [roll10] => 12 after divination bonus
Fate points: [roll11] => 1
Wealth [roll0]+ 50 =
Divination: [roll12] "The only true fear of dying is dying with your duty not done" - +2 wounds

Appearance:
While Garvel can be described as wiry, he is deceptively strong and has the stamina of a long-distance runner. When not wearing arbitrator uniform (quite rare these days), he can pass for a fashionable - one might even say decadent - young hiver of middling status. Yet despite the piercings on his ears, and the carefully maintained white and black streaks in his hair (which won him quite a few insulting nicknames in the academy, of which the one he currently goes by is the least insulting), he is a fully trained Arbites trooper and every bit as dangerous as any other recruit. He shows promise in both close combat and gunfights, and though he is not particularly agile, his wits and senses more than make up for it. Though he still sometimes struggles with doubts, which he hides behind a relatively easygoing demeanor, his steely grey eyes flash with the determination of a man that would keep going - no matter what.

Skills:
Speak Language (Hive Dialect) (Int)
Tech-Use (Int) (Caves of Steel) as Basic Skill
Speak Language (Low Gothic) (Int)
Literacy (Int)
Common Lore (Adeptus Arbites) (Int)
Common Lore (Imperium) (Int)
Inquiry (Fel)
++ Awareness (Per)

Talents:
Accustomed to Crowds
Caves of Steel
Hivebound
Wary
Basic Weapons Training (SP)
Melee Weapon Training (Primitive)
Rapid Reload
Talented (Inquiry)

XP:
Calixian Pattern Killing - 200: +5 Perception, Talented (Inquiry)
Awareness: 100
Ballistic Skill advance (basic) - 100

Gear: shotgun and 52 shells, club (mono update), brass knuckles, knife, uniform (Good Quality Clothing), 3 doses of stimm, injector, Arbitrator ID, chrono, pack of lho sticks, mesh vest; micro-bead, 10 thrones

Backstory: In the first 35 years of his life, Garvel Torn knew little except of the run-down hab block he lived in and the factory where he worked, in one capacity or another, since almost the time when he could carry a box of plasticard. His parents had worked there, his brother and sisters did, and he was drilled into believing that his wife and children would work here too, producing the same fitting element for the Emperor’s armies – and never knowing where it would go or why. Frankly, he didn’t much care – the life of a factory dreg on Malfi is hard enough without such petty distractions, and the Emperor would surely frown on such frivolities anyway. So the lean, tanned (more by background radiation from various materials than sunlight) grew on working, sleeping, talking to people and, at times, eating. His quick mind and natural affinity with people eventually made him somewhat of a leader among his peers, and it was noted that, Emperor willing, the kid might end up somewhat better than his parents did – maybe even a supervisor.

However, around the age of 34 Malfian years (some 24 Terran), Garvel’s elder brother Myron Torn disappeared. Garvel did his best to find him, but it appeared as if Myron had simply vanished into thin air that day - there were no people who saw him after he left the factory block, no people who saw him in the cantinas, nothing. Garvel started more and more of his time trying to find something about him, but for a long time, he had no success. Then, he met Tixia, a worker from a different factory who had lost her daughter, and through her others. Eventually, he realized that his brother’s disappearance was far from an isolated case, and it appeared that it was too organized and careful to be a standard scum affair. With this knowledge, he went to the nearest Adeptus Arbites office and asked for cooperation – theirs or his – in resolving this case.

Thinking in retrospect, he realizes he would have most likely be thrown out, possibly given a black eye for his troubles. Yet his passion and intelligence interested in the still-idealistic regulator who spoke to him, who told that the office had been working on the case and that it appeared that a Ganger boss might have more intelligence or support than normal, and that he might be of use in the search. Needless to say, the youth jumped at the opportunity; though when his elder sister learned of what he did, she did try her best to beat some sense into him. It wasn’t the first time she tried to do so, and it wasn’t the first time she failed: for the next year, he carefully collected choice information learned over the assembly line, lunch, and tankards of rotgut that may have some connection to the case, and fed them to the office promptly. For further chance of success, he was told to act in a manner typical of a scum sympathizer and look in a similar manner as much as possible without causing undue attention to himself. Though this alienated some of his former friends and shifted popular opinion against him, the change was perceived as genuine. Eventually, his patience was rewarded when he was told to act as bait for an operation to trap the gang boss; though this would have troubled even most dedicated Imperial citizens, Garvel agreed.

Garvel was supposed to be a contact from a gang from a different section of the Hive, which was interested in forming an organization to overthrow a mutual enemy. The operation started well – the boss, Stig, did come out with only a few bodyguards. However, it turned out that the ambush backfired; several members of the group that was supposed to apprehend him turned on their fellows and the capture turned into a dogged firefight. Garvel himself was injured in the very beginning, and only the Emperor’s will and his own reflex prevented a slug that grazed his scalp from finding his brain. He fought with unrivaled zeal, however, and used a shotgun that was handed to him by one of the arbiters to deadly effect. Ultimately, the gangers and the bribed arbiters were killed or captured, and the gang was routed later that day. Garvel himself was allowed to participate in the fight for the gangers' hideout, and subsequently he found a measure of pride in that... and even more in that he survived, as the battle was bloody indeed. He does not, try as he might, remember much about the fight as he descended in the gang's den. There was haze, he thinks, and weapons blazing, grenades, close combat... but he simply can not remember the details. He does know what happened after the fight, however. He definitely can remember finding his brother’s gloves on the hands of a killed ganger, as well as the two bits of reassurance he received from the arbiters. One that at least he need not worry anymore: gangers being the scum that they were, his brother was dead. The second is that he would have a chance to dispense vengeance on more of them; starting the next week, he would be a trooper.

The following few months passed in grueling training and discipline, or as much of both as a minor precinct school of the Adeptus Arbites could muster. Garvel endured both seemingly without any change (even his hair kept its dyed white color), but the suspicion that there was more to the kidnappings than a ganger affair gnawed on to him. Due to the shortage of arbitrators and the high occurance of crime in that quadrants, the academy sometimes was called on to supply extra manpower to the full-time arbitrators, and in the short time there Garvel worked on several cases. One that involved a suspiciously strong gang, having a symbol which for whatever reason fascinated him. He started investigating any such occurences, but soon afterwards was told that an important person wanted to speak to him. This is the first, and so far only, time that Garvel saw the woman who he would work for until he was unceremoniously summoned to her ship. For once, the young trooper was incredulous – what would an Inquisitor want with him?

Whatever the two spoke about, Garvel walked out seemingly just as he had walked in. He finished his training and got on with work on the streets, proving to be a very capable operative both when words and guns were called for. He saw his family somewhat less often now, and when he did it appeared to him that proud as they all were, his parents carried a slight grudge that their son had embarked on a different path. His sister, Aurelia, took it worst, and if there was one thing that saddened him - though he never would admit it - it was that she might not end well for it.. Yet in all he did, he seemed to always be eager to find out something more, something beyond the local gang raid or rabble-rousing scum. And when the call from the Inquisitor came, he answered and left the block, hive, and planet he had spent his entire life on.

Questıonaıre:
What is your personality?
Garvel is usually laid back, confident and at times even somewhat cocky - between his idealism, lack of experience and his accomplishments he thinks he can take on a lot and come out on top, and he intends to do just that. If the various excremental matters hit the fan, he is usually tenacious, but can be very competitive and, especially if provoked, somewhat reckless

How did you meet your inquisitor?
The other way around, actually. After he started investigating one case a bit further than was usually the norm someone apparently noticed he was not your average trooper. That someone apparently contacted another someone and let them know there's a kid that will soon deserve either an opportunity to shine or a laspistol blast to the back of the head. Soon afterwards Garvel was called for a meeting with the inquisitor, where the two discussed these cases he was so interested about. So far, he seems to be getting the future.

What do you love?
To be that honest, Garvel does not love much at present. It would be an overstatement to say Garvel loved his original job (from what he saw of it), though he did feel a measure of pride and satisfaction from it. He does not feel the Emperor as closely as some others do, but firmly believes in the laws that He set forth and in the majority of the Imperial faith, and is ready to defend and enforce them as necessary. He feels a strong emotional bond to his family, in particular his sister, and if there is one thing he regrets (at times) it is that he could not leave on better terms.

What do you hate?
There are few things Garvel feels genuine hatred for - he has killed, and will continue to do so in the future, but in most cases he feels little more than the satisfaction of ridding the galaxy of a filthy vermin. However, there are two kind of vermin that he does hate. The first are those twisted and soulless enough to enjoy inflicting suffering and damnation on humanity, the vilest of heretics and scum who actually enjoy wreaking havoc and tormenting others. The second are those who are given power and abuse it, perverting the Emperor's laws and using them to their own end. These latter Garvel hates even more, as they desecrate the greatest gift the Emperor left his children. Not only do they disrupt the order and bring harm to others, but they profane it. This, he sometimes thinks deep in his head, is as vile a heresy as any other - a heresy against the laws the Emperor himself left mankind, his holy words and immortal wisdom.


What do you desire?
For now, he wants to do his duty and serve with distinction, earning honor in his duty. He does this for borh idealism and pragmatism, hoping that his achievements will earn him his master's favor. He hopes to one day be instrumental in breaking up one of the great organizations that he heard of in his arbites training, thus ensuring that his name will be remembered with honor as a servant of the Emperor. On a more personal level, he would like to one day mend the relations with his family - and maybe, maybe, start one of his own (or at least have a good, long relationship). He is a bit ashamed of the last part - he knows that his devotion lies elsewhere - but hey, a young man can dream.

[Thanatos 51-50]

And... Here's Eli!

I was going to be fancy and link to a keepandshare of the character sheet, but I can't remember how to get the upload to work.

Eli Drake:
Assassin: (Metallican Gunslinger [1])
WS: 33
BS: 46
Str: 34
T: 29
Ag: 40
Int: 30
Per: 34
WP: 37
Fel: 35

Traits/Talents:
Knave of Pistols
Packing Iron
Way of the Gun
Caves of Steel
Hivebound
Wary
Melee Weapon Training (Primitive)
Basic Weapon Training (SP)
Pistol Training (Las, SP)

Skills:
Speak Language (Low Gothic, Gunmetal Hive Dialect)
Dodge
Awareness

Advances Purchased:
Simple Balistics (Already factored in above; 100XP)
Simple Agility (Already Factored In Above; 100XP)
Mighty Shot (+2 To all Ranged Damage Rolls; 200XP)

Equipment:
Assuming the 75% trade-in mentioned Earlier in-thread, and purchasing nothing above Scare Difficulty:
Laspistol + 1 Charge Pack (Supplied)
Silenced Carnodon Pattern Precision Handcannon W/ Red Dot Sigh (Inquisitor's Handbook p 115; 121; Weapons Index) + 60 Rounds + 6 Manstopper Rounds + 6 DumDum Bullets
Sword
Corpse Hair Charm
Black Body Glove
Micro-Bead

20 Throne Gelt

Sold Items:
Hunting Rifle + 16 Rounds (75 for the Rifle, Bullets cost < 1 Throne)
Knife (3.75, Rounded down to 3)
Compact Upgrade for Laspistol (37.5, Rounded down to 37)
3 Doses Stimm (45)

Working Back-story:
Warning: Long.
Gunmetal City is a dangerous place. It's halls are filled with violence, anger, and rage, Self-sure nobles wearing fancy weapons parade around, and even the lowliest hab-worker carries a peace. When they swear an oath, it is on their gun. And so it comes to little surprise that when a child is born into this tumultuous background, he learns to respect, and even adore, his personal firearm.

Eli Drake was born to a pair of manufactorum workers, forever drudging in the fanes and forges of Gunmetal city, churning out vast, innumberable amounts of weapons for the Emperor. Dealers in and makers of Death. Theirs was a lowly profession, and possibly the single most important one in the Imperium. The Emperor cannot wage war without his Armies holding good, Metallican iron. Eli learned the workings of a fine firearm even as he learned to walk, when he cried, it was his father's spare autopistol he cluched tight in lieu of any form of pacifier.

It's no surprise that he grew to be one of the better marksmen of the Hive.
It is, however, a surprise that even as he grew up with his parents, he became lost in the wonderous tales of the famous Metalican Gunslingers, and, yearning to join their elite cadre, slipped outside of his home, with only a pilfered autopistol to his name, to begin his own journey to be the greatest gunslinger in the Imperium.

He was frailer than most men, and barely able to take a punch, a trait which the underhive gun-gangs took great pleasure in exploiting. He was ambushedsoon after he left the relative saftey of his family home, and left for dead in the underhive.
Only a miracle allowed him to survive, starving, alone and unarmed, but his will strong and his goal still set firmly in his mind. He killed his first man at the behest of a ganger leader, a petty rival for the head of the troupe. As a reward, young Eli was given the rival's iron. A battered and worn laspistol. Still servicable and perfectly good.

Then Eli integrated himself into the gang, becoming the leader's personal errand-boy. He pulled many very public assassinations for his master. Eventually, Eli found his gang moving up in the twisted heirarchy of the underhive, petty inter-gang rivalries soon became replaced by full-out firefights with the excuse for Imperial Law, and Eli Drake, although the lowest in his group's pecking order, found himself often on the front lines, fighting harder - and often better - than his peers. It drew attention from the Gunscrakes nobles, and whena troupe of them all but obliterated his gang, they took pity on Eli and traine dhim, themselves, moulding his skills and talents to become a true Gunslinger of Gunmetal City. Life had finally established the romatic tones he thought it would the air of mystery and danger told in the legends of the Gunslingers.
The Gunscrakes Eli ran with - little better than gangers in their own right, and equipped with fancier iron put Eli to work as he always had been - a subserviant Assassin, eventually saving up the time and money to purchase for the first time, his own iron, one of the rare, expensive, and wholly beautiful Carnodon Precision Handcannons.

It was shortly after he acquired this gem of a weapon that Heresey swept through the fanes and forges of Gunmetal. A small Chaos Cult began its uprising, and it was powerful enough to garner Inquisitorail attention, with a firebrand, martially orientated Inquisitor leading the purge, himself.
Seeing this as an oppertunity to curry favour with the Inquisition, the Gunscrakes moved in to assit, hoping to cull the entire cult for the Inquisition.
There was one survivor.

Eli Drake was still fighintg, broken and battered, wearing no armour, and letting only his sgility and his truly magnificent aim guide him to victory and survivial.
He held out until the Inquisitor and his retinue arrived, and continued to fight through his pain and his wounds until the entirety of the cult had been purged.

From there, he found himself drafted, inducted into that Inquisitor's retinue as an acolyte for his truly impressive display of courage and marksmanship. This wasn't how the story went, constantly subserviant to others, ut Eli knew that this is what he must do to survive, to forge his own legend.
You don't deny an Inquisitor.

[Vikingkingq]

"Down these mean hive streets, a man must go who is not himself mean, who is neither tarnished nor afraid."

Sam Hammurabi, Ex-Arbites Private Detective:

Background:

(Going to try again for the noir intro once I've read some more 40k Noir)

Sam Hammurabi was born in the sweltering slums of Infernis, the most dangerous place in all of Gunmetal City. Most of his childhood friends ended up running with the gangers, but Hammurabi went a different route – raised in an Ecclesiarch orphanage by a fiery missionary preacher, Sam was taught through hard knocks that the Emperor protects even the least of His People, and visits retribution on the unrighteous.
Thus, from an early age, Sam Hammurabi was destined for the Arbites – as a nipper, he snuck into the holopics to watch crim-shows like Enforcer and Justice & Punishment and dreamed of becoming one of the Emperor’s Law Dogs. Sponsored into the Gunmetal City Arbites Academy when he left the orphanage, Hammurabi excelled in the practical and theoretical courses, graduated near the top of his class despite a limited education, and was selected for the Investigations Division, given his knowledge of the underhives.
As an Enforcement Officer, Sam was known for his burning faith in Imperial Justice and a troubling insistence of enforcing Imperial Law in cases involving complaints against upper-hivers by under-hivers. His formal career came to an end when Hammurabi arrested a hive noble, the brother-in-law of the Minister of Armaments, for the murder of an Infernis joygirl. When the noble was allowed to walk free, Hammurabi tore free of the grasp of his old captain, who advised him to “forget it, Sam, it’s Infernis,” and shot the smirking upper-hiver in the back in full view of the media. Normally, this would have been grounds for immediate Sanctioning, but the supposedly dead noble rose from the ground, his tattered clothing revealing the hideous marks of a Slaaneshi cultist. Mutating horribly with each step, the cultist-noble attacked the gathered crowd of Arbites and newsmen, devouring a holo-reporter and badly wounding three officers before dying in a hail of gunfire.
Left in a strange limbo between condemned man and media hero, Officer Hammurabi was placed on “permanent paid vacation,” although the actions of his captain allowed him to hang onto his Arbiter’s License. Once his 15 minutes of fame were up, Sam used the proceeds from the licensing rights to Righteous Kill: The Sam Hammurabi Story to open a small private detective agency in the middle hive. When people are in trouble, and the Magistratum isn't interested and the Arbites won't investigate, Hammurabi is there.
Under the cover of missing persons, kidnappings, and murder investigations, Sam Hammurabi conducts a one-man shadow war against Chaos - with a special focus on the corruption of the Hive Nobility. From the obscene gene-sculpting of the incestuous House of Railles and the organ-harvesters of the Cult of Eternal Flesh to the Slam Killer and Ignitious Vecht, the Firestarter, Hammurabi keeps a long list of the city's nobility and their crimes. House by House, he plans to cleanse them all.


Descriptive Stats:

Gender: Male Home World: Gunmetal City, Infernis Underhive
Career Path: Arbitrator Rank: 1 - Trooper

Description: Brawny Age: 30
Height: 1.9m Weight: 92kg.
Skin: Deep Tan Quirk: Bullet Scars, Arbites Tattoo (left bicep)
Hair: Black Eyes: Blue

Divination: "To War Is Human" + 3 Agil.

Physical Stats:

WS BS S T Ag Int Per WP Fel
36 43 33 36 31 28 32 33 31
Wounds: 11
FP: 1
IP: 0
CP: 0
Advances: Awareness, Rapid Reload, Scrutiny, Toughness +5 NOTE - forgot to add Divination bonus

Traits:

Packing Iron, Way of the Gun, Caves of Steel, Hivebound, Wary

Talents:

Basic Weapon Training (SP), Melee Weapon Training (Prim), Quick Draw, Rapid Reload, Pistol Training (SP)

Skills:

Speak Language (Low Gothic), Speak Language (Gunmetal City Dialect),Literacy, Common Lore (Arbites), Common Lore (Imperium), Inquiry, Awareness, Scrutiny

Equipment:

Shotgun and 12 shells, Scalptaker Stub Revolver and 2 clips, brass knuckles, boot knife, mesh vest, fedora and good quality suit, injector/3 doses stimm, Arbites ID/License, pack of lho-sticks, 23 Gelt


 

Sam Hammurabi in Slam Killer
Part I - Meeting the Client:

The air is thick with clouds of greasy black smoke, carrying the stench of burning hair and the sickly-sweet smell of cooked flesh. I choke back a rising gorge and stumble onwards through the haze, hoping like hell that my coat will keep the worst of it off me. All around, I can hear mocking laughter as I spin, trying to track the sound in this echoing maze. The barrel of my shotgun does a little dance covering the angles, mirroring the crazed flickering light the fires throw around the room. I see his face in every corner, every shadow. I turn, and there he is, and the flames leap up all around me, and my uniform is burning, the whole world is burning-

A splash of cold water brings me gasping back to life. Xantippe stands above me, a very disapproving angel of mercy. “Most people just say good morning, you know.” My head hurts and a lava-rat died in my mouth, but I pull myself up on my elbows anyway, and the sheets slither down to my waist. “Care to join me?” Tippe looks down her perfect nose in pretended disgust, but she’s seen a lot more of me on debauched nights of days gone by. I make the Aquila on my bicep dance when I catch her taking her bullet’s worth, and she laughs.

“It’s nearly Mid-Shift, and there’s a client waiting. You owe me two cycles back pay, so get your overmuscled hide out of bed.” She slams the water bucket on the side table to make me flinch from the noise and then sashays out with an exaggerated sway in her hips. “And I think you’ll like this client, so don’t go back to bed.” Tippe’s too damn pretty and too damn smart to be working in a rundown joint like mine, but she puts up with it for some reason. I walk over to the small sink in the closet behind the main office I call my bedroom, and take stock in the mirror.

30-odd Imperial Standard Years old, and you can see every year. A good strong face, but the nose hadn’t healed quite right since I lost that last bout in the All-Precinct Tournament. I splash water over the mug and give it a once-over with the auto-shaver, but the cheap little machine spirit just gives the stubble a haircut. Six shifts a week with the bags and weights at the hab gymnasium down the block has kept me at regulation trim, despite the hooch and street food diet, which is good, but I’m still collecting bullet holes and knife scars at the same rate that I did back in the Arbites. Guess I’ve never learned to duck. I try not to look at an ugly splash of burn scars that wrap around my left hip. Forgetting the past is something of a professional necessity.

The mesh vest goes on first – never hurts to be cautious – and I throw on a suit that I haven’t worn for a few shifts. I try to knot the tie while going through last night’s pockets for my effects, and it’s a mess, but it’ll have to do. At least I found the stick-case and my flask.

I emerge into my office like an ursine coming out of hibernation nursing at my flask, collapse into my chair, which creaks in protest. When I give the client a look-over, I nearly swallow my tongue. The client is the kind of dame you see in holo-picts, not down in the lower-lower-mid-hive. Inky black hair, pinned back tight and I want to touch it; a face like a Living Saint and a joygirl rolled into one, and the kind of body that doesn’t belong in grey Administratum robes, but the robes are well-made and high-quality, and they hug the body nicely.

She looks disappointed. Par for the course - I quickly pocket the flask and give an embarrassed cough. “Mr. Hammurabi, I presume,” she says with a voice so cool that it cuts through the Mid-Shift heat.

“Call me Sam. And you are?” I flick open my case and offer a lho-stick, but she waves it away.

“Ishtar Siskind. Administratum-Ordinate, Human Resources.” I light up and drift away into a hazy dream where I’m a naughty factory serf who’s below quota and she’s the HR Officer who motivates me to work to satisfaction. “I believe that my sister is dead.” Her voice yanks me out of the fantasy with a guilty start I normally associate with getting beat by the stock of a rifle for having Sinful Thoughts back in my Orphanarium days.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” I say automatically. “Have the Magistratum investigated?” The local magistrates are a pack of corrupt, ward-heeling thugs, but even they pull out the few functioning investigators they have when bureaucracy relatives die.

Her face gets hard but her voice begins to take on wobbly tones. “They told me that I should talk to the Adeptes Arbites. The Adeptes told me I needed to fill out a Missing Persons Report with the Magistratum, which I had already done. Mr. Hammurabi, no one’s telling me anything!”

I try to avoid falling off my chair and take a drag on the lho-stick to give myself a second to think. Arbites don’t bother with the runaround unless they are investigating, and Arbites don’t handle murders unless there’s something more to it. “Please, call me Sam. Do you have picts?” She hands me a citizen-record attached to a pict-print of a juvie version of herself decked out in Scholam uniform for Youth Day. Cute kid, big smile; I flip the page and give the permanent record a look-see. No juvie record, no serious infractions beyond the usual kid stuff, so unlikely to have a ganger boyfriend or a debt to some dealer. I nod my thanks.

“Ms. Siskind, I’ll take a look into it. I still have some contacts in the Arbites,” I go into the usual spiel as her eyes cut to the framed headlines behind my desk: “ROOKIE COP NABS INFERNIS BOSS VLYKO.” “LONE TROOPER BRINGS IN THE DEBRIES GANG.” “HERO ARBITES CRACKS PSYKER ARSON CASE.” “ABUSE OF POWER? ARBITES ARREST SCION OF HOUSE GUILLINAR.” “HAMMURABI GUNS DOWN HIVE NOBLE IN SHOCK MUTANT CULTIST HORROR”. “ROGUE ARBITES SUSPENDED – ARE LAW DOGS PROTECTING THEIR OWN?” “EX-COP PI TAKES DOWN THE TORSO COLLECTOR.” I can see the hope welling up in those dark eyes, and I hate to squelch it. “But I can’t make any guarantees. They might have information on your sister, or she might have vanished without a trace.”

She nods and gathers some of that icy composure. “And the matter of your fee?”

I’ve already moved over to the hatstand and thrown on my old greatcoat and my fedora. “Twelve bullets a week plus expenses is my standard fee.” ‘Tippe, who’s been sitting in the corner taking notes on a battered data-slate coughs pointedly. “Two weeks up front.”

Ishtar Siskind looks shocked that it’s legally permissible to actually work for a sum as low as twelve Thrones a week and scribbles out a draft on the Imperial Savings Bank of Trantus. She hands it over and lets her hand linger on mine as the note changes hand. She drifts out the door like a breeze, and I stare at the door as it closes behind her.

Xantippe’s moved to my shoulder and scoops the check into the cashbox she keeps closer than her virtue. “You will be careful, won’t you Sam? Something doesn’t feel right about this one,” she says darkly.

I give her a crooked smile and open the bottom right desk drawer. Out comes the Scalptaker, cleaned and oiled just the way I like it. I crack the chamber, look at six fat shells, snap it closed, and drop it in the shoulder-draw. “Don’t start worrying, doll – it’ll give you wrinkles. Besides-“ I pull out the shotgun and slide it into the concealed holster in the skirts of my greatcoat so that the grip nestles right next to my hand. “You know how cautious I am.”


Part II - Talking to Friends

Precinct 13 stands as a mute witness to Imperial rule – a massive fortified building whose soaring donjon, bristling with spy-gargoyles and gun emplacements, commands a view over the entirety of Mid-Hive. Gunmetallicus might not be as big as Hive Scintilla or Hive Tarsus, but given the vital security interests in a major sectoral arms production center, the implications of the city’s thriving small arms exports on recidivism and public order, and the…unique policing challenges in a hive where the entire civilian population carries firearms, it’s one of the biggest precinct houses on-planet, and the toughest posting.

Inside, the precinct’s corridors are blindingly white, completely lacking in the foundry soot and volcanic ash that gets everywhere. It’s as much as a statement as the building itself, a subtle testament to absolute discipline and order, but also a reminder that the Arbites are in Gunmetallicus, but not of it. My “permanently-vacationed” Arbites badge gets me through the security scanners, and after five years out, only a few of the old-timers from Investigation notice me as I head towards the Captain’s office.

The office locks are still terrible, and it’s the work of a second with a multi-key to pass inside. Captain Barbosa’s off-shift, but an veteran like him lives in the precinct. Sure enough, he’s sprawled out snoring on his couch, with a handful of empty delivery boxes and a half-empty bottle of jolicq resting on the footrest.

“Morning, ‘cap.” Faster than I can blink, Barbosa’s got his Hecutor aimed at my guts and I’ve got my Scalptaker aimed at his head. Barbosa Prekowski is 55 standard years, short and stocky, balding with three ex-wives and a beer gut, but he’s an old street hound who forgot more about investigations then I ever learned.

“Well, well. Sledgehammer Sammy. How’s the jab, kid?” We keep the guns trained on each other out of politeness, but I can see a bit of boozy happiness in his eyes.

“Not too bad. Work keeps me in condition – still not where I was before that vat-bulked yahoo from Riot Squad knocked me out of the All-Precinct, ended the hat trick, you know?”

“So, is this a social call or what?”

“Working a case, ‘cap. Inara Siskind ring a bell? How ‘come the Precinct’s giving her sis the runaround?”

He grunts and swings his feet off the couch. “Siskind. That frakkshow. Standard practice in open investigations involving Moral Hazard is to deny all inquiries, maintain op security. You know that.” My palms begin to itch, and I can feel the old adrenaline thrill creeping up on me. Hadn’t expected this.

“Since when is a missing juvie an M.H case?”

“Ritualized sex-crim murders get auto-flagged as M.H pending a review to look for Slaaneshi indications - that's SOP too. Siskind-junior’s down in the Processing Lab.”

============================

Despite the welcome cool, I hate the Processing Lab. It reeks of disinfectant and old blood, the cutters are uniformly a bunch of freaks, and the place has given me more bad dreams than I’m ready to admit. I pull a pre-rolled lho-stick out of my case, pretend to look outraged when Barbosa bums one, and light a match off the DON’T SMOKE sign. Both of us drag deep and exhale through our noses, using the scent to keep the smell at bay.

Medicae Severus, the old corpse crow, is waiting for us, and I’m beginning to feel like me taking this case wasn’t such a surprise to them. He nods professionally and whisks a tarp off of the slab in front of him. I grimace at the sight, but practice holds the gorge down. Inara was a cute girl, but the thing lying in front of me is nothing but ugliness. “Human female, approximately 15 years of age,” Severus drones in that nasal voice of his, “Massive contusions to the face, head, and body suggest a violent assault, but the opening of the torso was post-mortem. Death was by manual strangulation, we believe, although the broken neck might have come first – strong brute whoever he was.”

Looking back down at the body, I notice the bruising around the neck looks odd – and it takes me a second to realize that whoever did this to her, did it one-handed. “Injuries consistent with a sex-crim, fluids retrieved show significant signs of Chaos taint. Definitely fits the pattern.”

“Pattern?” My pulse begins to race. “How many more are there?”

Barbosa blows a thick plume of smoke in the direction of three other shrouded figures. “Siskind makes vic number four. All young females, formerly quite pretty.” He produces some files from the recesses of his coat and hands them to me. “All found dumped in alleys, with indications that the body had spent some time in the trunk of a vehicle. And this part is interesting – pharma came back with traces of Soma in the vic and Slam in the, ah, samples. You always had good narco contacts, I thought…”

“So what, you want me to run down this lead for you?”

“If it ain’t too much to ask you to do your job, I’d remind you that you are still technically on the force, Sam.”

“I don’t like getting played, ‘cap. Fine. What’s the in-house bounty on this one?”

He gives me the hard-eye, but I know I’ve got him by the small hairs. “Vigilance League usually kicks in 200 for unsolved multiples, and the Ministorium might be good for another 150, what with the taint. Fifty-fifty if you bring in a lead that solves the case.”

“I don’t take the Holy Fathers’ money.” Might not be as virtuous as old Father Shotgun taught me to be, but I don’t need Thrones to do the Church’s business. “One hundred even, if I bring it in.”

“Deal.” We shake on it, and I hustle out of the lab with the case files, taking a bit of pleasure at Severus’ scowl as I grind out the stick-stub under my boot.


Part III - Talking to Scum

Sebastion Thale used to be something of a big-shot among Rogue Traders until he got on the wrong side of someone with a lot of muscle and a lot of money. Two ships burnt out from under him, now he’s permanently out of the big leagues – which makes drugs the only thing that’s got the profit-to-weight ratios that make sense for a flea-speck ship like his.

He’s an amoral, venal glutton, and a coward and a bully. But I don’t have to like him to pump him for intel. I step through the door of the Drunken Warp-Whale and the steaming heat of Infernis hits the artificial cold generated by a pair of old climate control units. I emerge on the other side of the fog bank into a pack of thugs and thieves, scum of a hundred worlds who flock to Gunmetal City to tool up or to find muscle work or to get away from the law. Thale sits at a table in the back with a table of mooks, scum, and other friends, and drops his head into his hands as he sees me coming through the crowd. “Ten thousand thundering typhoons! Not you again! A half-kilo to the man who brings me the scurvy dog’s teeth in a glass!” he calls out to the bar.

Damn. That was cleverer than usual for Thale – he must be glanding some intellect-enhancers today. A man-mountain rippling with vat-grown muscles, ganger ‘lectoos blazing red and purple, and the tell-tall blockishness of subdermal carapace steps away from the bar and into my path, halfway to Thale’s table. I can feel the press of the crowd behind me, and they’re not going to let me leave without seeing someone get beaten up. The half-augmetic bartender flips the drinks menu slate around and starts taking bets.

I take my time dropping my greatcoat and hat on the bar, and slip a couple somethings out of the pockets with my back turned to the firm of Big, Dumb & Ugly. He’s squaring up to fight, his two massive hands like sides of beef. I bring my hands up into a guard position, and as he throws the first lumbering punch, I circle left and to his flank. Thing about vat-grown muscle that I’ve learned since my last…official bout is that while they’ve got a hell of a lot of hitting power, the muscle tends to slow them down, limit their range of motion. Unlike fighters who earn their weight honestly, they’re not used to the bulk.

While he’s turned, I smash a shovel hook into the soft spot under his arm and tap his locked elbow with a chambered punch. BD&U roars with pain and turns around to lash out with a clumsy backhand with his good paw, but I duck under it and hit him with a two-three jab/cross combo across his face. He stumbles backwards in shock, and I can tell he hasn’t felt a hit like that in a long time. I flash my knuckle dusters at him, and the 400 pound armor-plated man is pissed off at my lack of fair play. He’s so mad that he’s completely failed to compute that now I’m standing between him and his half-K.

He throws a furious hail of body blows into me. I bring my arms up and turn my torso to guard, but the sheer momentum of his punches rattles my bones nonetheless. I jab through the volley, ringing another couple blows off his chin, but it’s my bad luck that BD&U is no glass jaw. In fact, he’s probably glanding so hot that I could punch him all day and he’d stay on his feet. I don’t have time to play with this droog.

Luckily, I don’t have to play fair. I slam a steel-toed boot into his crotch and as he goes limp, I hip check him into the bar. Glasses smash under his face as he goes down, but he bucks like a raging grox-bull. I pull way back and hurl a diving punch into the back of his head with the full weight of my body. It hits with a wet meat smack. Thud. It takes four more of those – thud, thud, thud, thud – before he stops moving. My hands are caked with a sticky mess of beer and blood, and I’ve got the murder-light in my eyes as I make for Sebastion.

Everyone gets out of my way in a hurry, even the Rogue Trader’s shabby entourage. I toss some of Big, Dumb, and Ugly’s teeth onto the table. He’s pouring with sweat and less pleasant fluids, and tries to babble an explanation. I whip out my trusty Scalptaker and shove it against his head until it actually breaks the skin. “Not. In. The. Mood. You scummy little gretchkin-fondler.”

“I-I swear to the Throne, I’llltellyouanythingyouwanttoknow.”

I lean down over him. “Slam. I hear anyone who’s anyone gets their connect through you, you bring it through Tarsus Starport.”

“You want a connect? Emperor’s bowels, you just had to ask!”

I slap him across the chops, leave some blood on his face. “Not looking to buy, gakhead. I want your client list.” If it’s possible, he looks even more terrified now. He’s in a public bar with dozens of criminal scum watching this go down, which makes him a dead man if he gives up his clients, but I’ve got the stub-revolver and he’ll be a dead man for certain if he doesn’t.

“I-I can’t. They’ll kill me,” he whispers.

“Do I look like I care?”

===========================

It takes me a full cycle to run down all of Thale’s leads. Drug dealers and gangers don’t like to talk, but I can be very persuasive. The lone wolves can be bluffed by a wave of the old badge and a threat to bring an Armed Response Unit to revoke their parole. The gangers are tougher, so Three-Finger Thakk doesn’t talk until I dangle him out of his hab’s window up on the 50th story and hold him there while his moll curses up a storm and chucks crockery at me. The Lava Lane Goliaths run deep, but I roll up fast on my third-hand combat bike and hook Bigger Than Small Dave Dave by the ankle and drag him behind me down the arteria until he tell me what I want to know.

I get an endless list of junkies, but nothing fits. Vic number one was some kind of dancer, with a few nacro busts, but she was into thrill-pills, a very different line from somna – joygirl liked to get up, now down. Neither of the other two make sense. Vic number two was a mid-hive office worker, single cat-lover type, and Vic number three was an up-hive music reporter. Three completely different backgrounds, no common associates, no connections beyond vanishing off the street without any warning signs.

Frustration and a quick vox to Barbosa sends me to their homes, and I’m looking at a ferrocrete wall. Inara’s room is a typical juvie-girl’s room, dayglo pink and full of stuffed animals, and pictures of professional prettyboys up on the walls. Vic three’s palatial spire apartment is sleek and professional, with the best sound equipment that money can buy. I root around on her desk, and besides some notes from an interview with a hot new thud-band, there’s not much there. It’s not until I note some ticket stubs tacked up on the fridge of Vic two that I get my point of connection between the girls and the massive roll of client lists.

Not exactly who I was expecting, but I’m not surprised.


Part IV - Prime Suspect

Deep base thud-music vibrates in my chest 'till I can't tell which is the music and which is my heart. The bar is full of pretty young things shrieking happily at each other; I don't fit in here, but at least it's dark. A split level down from the catwalk from which the bar sways, a dense mob of bodies writhes to the music, lost to themselves.

The greased-up barman wanders down to the end of the bar and shoots a sour look at me. "Hey, Mr. Nursing-One-Amasec-All-Frakking-Night, space is at a premium here- buy something or get out." I throw a ten-Throne bullet on the metal and grab his wrist before he can snatch it up.

"Maybe I'm more interested in some information." He struggles, but obscura doesn't exactly put on muscle. Maybe he starts to sweat, but in Infernis, who can tell?

"Maybe I can help with that," he smiles like a politico caught waist deep in xenos joygirls. With my free hand, I flash him a pict-capter.

"Jakes Mithras. You know him." It's not a question.

The bartender laughs in my face, his breath foulled with hard-liq and the sticky sweetness of obscura. "Everyone knows him, C'mon man, he's playing on stage."

"But you know him better, don't you? You're the reason this underhive rathole is packed with up-hiver new money. Because you're his connect. Slam for him, Somna for the girls, isn't that right?"

His face goes white and he reaches for something under the bar, snarling, an angry rat forced to turn. Before he can bring it to bear, I bring the pict-capter back and then snap my arm forwards into his face. It breaks with a crunch and a crackle of electricity. The sudden flare of light casts crazy shows on the faces of the crowd at the bar, but the sick frells just laugh and clap as the man collapses behind the bar, his howls muffled by Jakes Mithras' driving base. A few even throw credits. I'm out the service entrance before the bouncers even come over to see what's going on.

An hour or so later, I'm outside the VIP exit, waiting in the steaming alleyway as Jakes Mithras emerges, his set finished. Wild hair, a fur coat of all things thrown over a bare chest and pseud-leather leggings - his face is beyond humanly beautiful, the best work that spire 'docs can be paid to do. If I didn't know what he was, I'd hate him just on principle.

His entourage clusters around him like orbiting satellites, telling him what an amazing gig it was, gets better every time. He's not paying attention, more interested in a luscious dame with dayglo hair and curves that I can see through her dress. The band splits up, chattering about the after-party, and the two of them are left necking as the hover-limo waits. Perfect time to make my move.

Then something hits me in the back of the neck and things go dark for a second. Stupid, I think muzzily. Drill Sergeant Bruul always said - when observing others, you damn well make sure you're not being observed. Things snap back when my head bounces off the pavement, but I'm already rolling to avoid the boot coming down. There's two of them, not your vat-grown moody-hammers, but lithe professionals in synthskin. My respect for Mithras' recording agency goes up a notch, but I'm already exploding from a runner's crouch, charging at the one with the gun.

He gets off one shot to the chest, I suck it up and slam him into the wall, bounce his head off the rockcrete to even up the score. Enforcer number two hits me with the shock maul again, now in the ribs, but I'm braced for it this time, and my fists fly at the gunman. I might not be All-Precinct Champion any more, but the body doesn't forget - my jabs knock his hands aside and the right hook sends him out.

"DROP HIM," the maul-wielder shouts, worried about his partner. I spin and throw the unconscious gunman headlong into him. He instinctively catches his falling comrade, and I step forward with my Scalptaker cocked. The enforcer's body makes for a fine silencer, and they both fall to the ground. I grab my hat off the ground and walk away.

Stumbling out of the alley, the VIP exit's empty - I'm too late. The surge of frustrated rage helps with the adrenaline comedown, but by the time I throw aside the garbage sacks I used to hide my bike, I'm wobbling a bit. I thumb the activation rune, roar off into the night, hoping there's still time.


Part V - Afterparty Showdown

I gun my ‘bike up the ramp to Mid-Hive at 100 kloms per hour and I hear the whoop-whoop of Magisterium patrol vehicles behind me over the rush of the wind. I fumble my old micro-bead into my ear with one hand and tune it to the security channels. “Arbites-Licensed Private Investigator Sigma Eta 11/14-Rho, with message for Barbosa – tell him to bring a warrant for Citizen Mithras, Jakes, residing in Warehouse District Mid-Hive 35 by 17.” The Magisterium boys vox back a profane babble, and continue in pursuit, but they’re terrified enough of the Arbites to pass on the message. Now to shake my tail.

My coat cracks out behind me like the sails of an eldar reiver as I turn down Row 33, jinking and weaving for the look of things. I see a massive recyc-container coming up on my right and toss a pair of krak grenades on short fuses inside, then gun it to max-speed – 150 kloms an hour roaring under me – and pull a hard right. The recyc blows with a satisfying gout of fire and the Magisterium cars slam on the brakes to avoid the fireball.

I ditch the bike behind a stack of crates and make my way around to the front of Warehouse 35/17, Mithras’ designated slumming pad – luckily the noise of the party is so loud that the guards haven’t even noticed my impromptu fireworks two streets away. I make four guards around the front carrying heavy stubbers and combat shotguns – the security corp must have found the two I left in the alley and decided to tool up. I retrieve my last two krak grenades and wind up for a Hail-Terra pass (although I used to play tackle in scrum-ball come to think of it), aiming for the mouth of the alley down the block to my right. It ain’t pretty, but I don’t need it to be. The two grenades explode with a terrible bang that breaks half the windows on the warehouse opposite, and the guards, consummate professionals, react with caution. Two leave to check out the disturbance, leapfrogging with one covering and one moving. The other two keep position.

The one closest to me is just distracted enough for me to sneak up behind him and give him both shotgun barrels to the back of the head. The helmet soaks most of the pellets but it allows me enough time to put him in a headlock and bring his autogun to bear on his partner. He shouts a warning but not before I squeeze Autogun’s trigger-hand and let off a burst that stitches his partner across the torso. The partner, confused and bewildered and aspirating blood, lets off three shotgun bursts that make my unwilling meatshield shudder in my grasp. My captive, seeing his partner fall to the ground dead at his hands, chokes a horrified denial for a few seconds before I cup his chin with one hand and break his neck with the other.

We Gunmetallicans might be inured to the sound of gunplay, but this close to their position, the other two are going to be back in a handful of seconds, so I dash through what used to be the main intake doors and hit the red “CLOSE” rune. When the massive sheetmetal comes clanking down, I find the biggest bunch of wires and yank them out. Hopefully, that’ll buy me time to settle things with Jakes Mithras.

==============================================

Inside the music is deafening, the thud-crash so loud that it batters its way inside you. It’s wilder than the stuff they played at the gig, discordant and ominous. There’s a massive semi-circle of dark, plush velvet that carves off an inner space for the select few who’ve been judged worthy of partying with the star attraction, but the place is packed with bodies thrashing and rubbing against each other like the strange anemones you sometimes find in volcanic lakes. I freeze. Why haven’t I been spotted?

I circle around the fringes, and take a discrete look at some of the stragglers. They’ve got purple stains around their mouths and their eyes are completely vacant. They’re just empty, vibrating to the music, an unseeing audience for what’s happening behind the curtains. I shake one roughly, and he just sways in my grip with a blank smile on his face. I slap another across the chops but he doesn’t respond. The music is everything, and it’s all around and inside of me-

The urge to dance makes me stumble over a discarded bottle and a chipped rib sends a sharp pain shooting up my side. The pain yanks me out of the daze, and I begin to understand how bad it’s about to get. I had hoped we were dealing with dilettantes, muties at worse, but I can smell something in the air like rotting vanilla that speaks of witchcraft.

Suddenly the Scalptaker doesn’t seem like enough. I brought the combat shotgun that the guard I drilled had dropped, but the four shells left in the mag aren’t going to do much better if this crowd goes ugly. One man against a hundred, I miss my Arbites squad more than I have in months. There's no way Barbosa's getting here in time, not with the need to clear a warrant first.

I look for an equalizer, and in my desperation, I note massive open drums along the walls. Wandering over and gingerly tasting a dipped finger, they turn out to be full of Gorsk White Gin, as of yet undiluted with whatever purple substance has knocked these fools out. I don’t have any more grenades, but I do have a few lengths of det-tape. I grin an evil grin and begin to bring my nightmare to life.

===================================

A few minutes later, I make my way around to where I can see behind the velvet curtain, and my blood freezes in my veins. Three more women, three more beautiful corpses, lie dead on the ground. The blood has pooled around them and the band is daubing their blood onto the body of Jakes Mithras, who stands naked as the day he was born, arms flung out and head lolling. The symbols they draw make my eyes begin to tear up.

I can see the day-glo dame being held by three roadies, two of them on her arms and a third holding her jaw open. She’s screaming a list of curses that would have made Drill Sergeant Bruul blush and thrashing with her feet, but they’ve got about six times her body weight. The high priest is chanting in tongues and holds an amethyst and gold chalice above his head, waving it gently in circles. The DJ in the corner spins tunes to a faster and a faster beat, and the relative normalcy of that makes it somehow worse than the other obscenities.

As the music builds to a crescendo, the roadies drag the girl before the coven. The band each open a vein into the chalice and the high priest moves towards the girl as Mithras stands waiting for his cue, another goblet held languidly in one hand.

Boom. The priest’s chalice explodes in a spray of metal shards. Boom. The priest’s head snaps backwards, decorating the purple curtains with his grey matter. Boom. The DJ’s deck explodes and the music cuts out.

“I wouldn’t drink that if I were you,” I call out. The smoke from my Scalptaker rolls around my head, and the crowd parts around me. The dancers begin to stir and look around in mounting fear.

Mithras is shaking with rage. “WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE,” he bellows as his band/cult advances towards me with vicious looking knives.
They’re only a few meters away when the det-tapes go off.

The barrels explode and roar with fire. The flames ring the warehouse and begin to lick their way up the walls. It’s was my nightmare, the memory of that night when the mad psyker Ignitious Vecht was stopped and three of my squadmates died in the worst way a man can. And now it’s theirs.

“I’m the law, you sons of bitches!”

The explosions knock the band-cultists to the ground and the crowd stampedes in all directions, beserk. For some reason, they flow right around me. I train my gun on the roadies, but they’re already ditching the girl and hightailing it out of here. “This way, babe. Quick!” The day-glo dame doesn’t waste a second and puts my nearly-two meters and 90-odd kilos between her and her would be murderer.

“Give it up, Mithras. Arbites Response Unit will be on its way, any minute now. I’m sure your family can hire the best homicide attorneys money can buy. They’ve done it before.” I say the words out of habit, but we both know this is beyond the law.

Jakes looks at me with psychotic fury in his eyes. I can see the blood-tattoos swirling and something seems to be writhing under his skin. “Too late now, you fool. The ceremony must be completed.” He swigs the goblet’s contents, and lets the thing clatter to the ground. Mithras sways, and the Slam begins to take hold. The muscles begin to spasm and twitch faster and faster, and then grow visibly, first slowly, then rapidly doubling in size.

I back away from the swelling meat-monster, pushing day-glo behind me with one hand. “Get out of here, dollface-“ I shout over my shoulder and then the Jakes-thing roars and charges. I put three rounds into it as it comes on like a maddened grox, go for the shotgun, but it’s too fast – I have just enough time to push the girl to the side before it lifts me off my feet and throws me halfway across the room. The shotgun goes flying.

“Yhuu ignorant fool,” the thing slurs, rising back to its feet unsteadily, the muscles mounting and rippling uncontrollably. “Yhuu have no idea what yhuu have done! Oh God-Emperor, help! It burns within me! I whill devour your soul! Please, mother!” It twists back and forth, and then fixes on the girl, who’s picked herself off the ground with an acrobat’s flip.

It paws the ground like an animal, and begins to lope after her. “Zhee prettyflesh. help. Yhurr death will complete meee!” I’m running faster than I’ve ever run in my life, and I cannon into the thing and knock it tumbling sideways. I hear one of my ribs snap.

“I said git, girl-“ I give the day-glo dame a righteous smack across her leather-encased arse and put myself in between her and the monster again. For the first time since the fire started, I’m not afraid. I know I’m a dead man, but all I have to do is buy enough time for her to get away and prevent the ritual from being completed. That’s enough.

I bounce on my toes and throw a combination into the air as the Jakes-thing gets to its feet and my feet flash back and forth, right to left and back. I spring forward off the back foot and smash him in the face with the best shovel hook I got. I double, triple-up up on him with the right, then hammer a left cross into his throat. The meat-mountain staggers back for a second, and I realize it’s not used to the flesh any more than some vat-grown punk. I dance to my right and slam two more into his chin, get to chase me.

It lunges with a clumsy jab, and I make the mistake of trying to block. I feel something in my arm break and I’m knocked stumbling backwards. Between the Slam and the witchcraft, I might as well have tried to tickle it.

The Jakes-thing lumbers after me with the bemused air of a cat faced with an aggressive mouse, willing to play along. It reaches out again, and I rush in, and hit the thing again and again, first with my good hand, then, shouting through the pain, I throw my left into anywhere it’s soft. I snap my forehead down, break its nose. I smash him on the side of the head, rip off one ear. My hands are moving faster than my best day back in the Arbites, but it’s not feeling anything.

“Come on, you bastard subhuman filth! Even a mutie wouldn’t love you, you ugly freak!” I throw blow after blow, and it just stands there. It slaps me in the side, and I feel the rest of those ribs go. I hit the ground, and this time I can’t get up. It reaches down with a paw and pulls me up to his face. Holy Throne, its eyes are burning with the sick violet of bruising flesh.

“Whhat were yhuu trying to achieve, mortal worm? Yhuu may have stuck meee in this half-finisshed vessl, but yhuu cannot defeat me. Eye will rape your corpse, and THEN eye will devour zhee pretty-flesh and be complete.”

I spit blood into its face. “Warp off. You can kill me, but I’m not going to cower for you. Besides,” I drop my voice into a whisper. “You forgot something.”

It brings its head in closer. “What?”

“You forgot to take your medicine.” I bring my good hand up and I’ve got my Arbites Stimm-Injector loaded with 50 grams of Sebastion Thale’s finest, uncut Slam pressed against its jugular. I pull the trigger, and with a hiss, the whole load shoots into its veins and the thing hurls me away.

I hit the ground and black out for a second. When I come to, I see the thing’s body clench and swell like a heart on the verge of breaking, and with a hideous ripping sound, the muscles explode in a spray of blood and viscera.

I lay there, laughing, too battered to move. The massive, inhuman, bleeding flayed man staggers around, flesh metastasizing wildly. A whole series of aftershocks spin it around and dump it onto its back, where it lies, screaming like a hog. I see Day-Glo move toward the thing and I try to tell her to stay away, but she’s brought the combat shotgun. She puts the end of the muzzle into the thing’s screaming mouth and after four rounds, there’s nothing left above the neck.

She drops the gun and helps me to my feet. We stagger to a side door where the flames look thinnest when an Arbites battering ram smashes through the door. Barbosa, in full riot gear, tips back his visor and gives me a look that’s halfway between horrified and amused.

“Missed the party, ‘cap,” I mumble before passing out again.


Part VI - Case Closed?

It’s a few hours later. The Arbites Medicae on-scene pumps me full of anti-concussionates, sets my arm and ribs, and I’ve got an Departmento Draft for 100 Thrones in my wallet. I make a note to add the cost of a new greatcoat and hat to my list of expenses.

Day-Glo and me wander off and find a corner diner. It’s not yet Morning-Shift-Change, so Philopater’s is empty save for a few night owls like the pair of us. We order two plates of fried starch and reprocessed meats, and two very large glasses of grain-liq. I’m starting to come down off the pain-meds, and the last four hours of exertion and injury catch up all at once. Day-Glo catches my grimace and puts something on the table. It turns out to be my Stimm Injector.

I laugh. “You’re pretty good at picking things up.”

She shrugs. “You’re pretty good at losing things.” I nod, and load a double-dose of Stimm (copped from the Arbites medicae, naturally) into the thing and fire it into my shoulder. The pain disappears and I get the old fake-recaff rush. My body will hate me for this come the morning, but that’s another day.

She cradles her glass. “You saved my life. Why?”

“Seemed like the right thing to do at the time. Besides, you saved mine. Why didn’t you run when you had the chance?” I load up my util-fork with meat and starch, drown it in gravy, and chow down.

“I could say the same to you,” she smirks. “But then again, I wasn’t stupid enough to try to punch out a…whatever the hell that was. I guess I don’t like owing people.”

I nearly choke on my food, but I make an effort not to look a fool in front of beautiful dames with day-glo hair. I swallow with difficulty and raise my glass. “Here’s to even slates, then?”

We clink glasses and she laughs, low and musical. I’m alive, I have a hundred Thrones in my pocket, and her laugh is the most beautiful thing about her. Here’s to even slates.

========================================

I wake up with what passes for sunlight pouring into my eyes and the sound of the door pounding. Day-Glo, who I found out last night is called Kayleigh Bluel, punches me in the ear and takes advantage of my weakened condition to steal all the blankets.

I stumble out of bed, and every cell in my body screams at me. I lurch over to the sink and swallow pain-pills like candy, smack my knee into the wall while pulling on a pair of pants, while Day-Glo makes herself comfy. She snores.

“Wait a damn minute," I shout, and walk out into the main office, rubbing my ear. I see that ‘Tippe has left the morning news-sheet. “MYSTERY MAN FOILS HERETIC CULT! TRAGIC DEATH OF THUD LEGEND JAKES MITHRAS!” I pick up the ‘sheet and read bemusedly as the pounding continues. “The family of Inara Siskind were overjoyed to hear that an anonymous investigator had solved the disappearance of their only child…what the hell?”

I throw open the main door and Ishtar Siskind is standing in the doorway tapping her foot. Except that Administratum-Ordinate Ishtar Siskind is wearing an armored body-glove and sports two very sharp-looking swords on her waist. She breezes past me and her professional-looking braid smacks me in the face. I stick my head out the door and give the corridor a quick look, then slam the door shut.

“I want to know what’s going on, lady! I don’t like getting played!”

She walks over to my desk and perches on top of it, crossing her legs in a way that would normally reduce me to a stammering fool, but I’m too pissed off. “I hired you to solve the disappearance of Inara Siskind. My employer was interested in the case, but didn’t wish to get directly involved for reasons that you don’t need to know. You did…quite well. You showed determination, resourcefulness, a good investigative technique, and most importantly, you saw things that would drive most ordinary men made and didn’t flinch. These are qualities my employer finds useful, and I’ve been authorized to offer you a more permanent offer of employment.”

I’m still pissed, and I have half a mind to show her the exit via the third floor window when she pulls a black leather wallet and opens it to show me a red enamel badge that every Imperial citizen knows on sight, enhanced with some personal emblem I don’t recognize. “Welcome to the Holy Inquisition, Mr. Hammurabi. You can call me Joye.”

Kayleigh Bluel emerges from the back office buckling up an identical body-glove, with two very large pistols strapped to her waist. Ishar/Joye gives her a bitchy look, but Kayleigh shrugs back with a “I was bored” expression. “And this is my…undisciplined associate, Kayleigh Forschner. She was supposed to be observing Jakes Mithras' coven remotely, but things apparently got out of hand. Again.”

I’m gaping like a fish at this point. “So what do you say to my offer, Mr. Hammurabi?”

[The_Shaman]

BTW, can I presume we all have some bags, satchels, or the like where we carry our gear into? Also, what do we know of Verinside?

[Vikingkingq]

Going to RP trying to cadge some gear off the Sisters' Armory.

[Lycan 01]

Oh crap, I didn't know we'd started! Crap crap crap! :smalleek:




Name: Hiram Thrope
Age: 30
Occupation: Tech-Priest
Rank: Technographer
Homeworld: Imperial World (Agri-world)
Divination: "Dark dreams lie upon the heart."

Attributes:
WS - 29
BS - 28
S - 33
T - 40
Ag - 31
Int - 41
Per - 34
Wp - 42
Fel - 27

Wounds: 10
Fate: 3
Insanity: 0
Corruption: 2

Traits:
Blessed Ignorance
Hagiography
Liturgical Familiarity
Superior Origins
Mechanicus Implants

Skills:
Speak (Low Gothic)
Tech-Use
Literacy
Secret Tongue (Tech)
Trade (Copyist)
Common Lore (Tech)

Talents:
Melee (Primitive)
Basic Weapon (Las)
Pistol Training (Las)
Electro Graft Use

Gear:
Metal Staff
Las Pistol (1 charge pack)
Las Carbine (1 charge pack)
Knife
Flak Vest
Glow Lamp
Data-Slate
Mechanicus Robes & Vestments
4 Spare Parts
1 Vial of Sacred Machine Oil
151 Thrones

XP Advances:

Technographer:
Simple Wp Upgrade - 100 XP
Simple Int Upgrade - 100 XP
Common Lore (Tech) - 100 XP

100 XP remaining


Fluff:

WHAT IS YOUR PERSONALITY LIKE?
Hiram is very aloof and thoughtful. He's patient, reserved, and often keeps to himself. Usually deep in thought, he's prone to "zoning out" and getting lost in his own little world, especially when the topic of Tech comes up. When it comes to problems and questions, he's usually very pragmatic. "Occam's Chainsword" as he calls it - the simplest and most direct solution is always the best. He's a very "go with the flow" kind of Cogboy.

HOW DID YOU MEET YOUR INQUISITOR?
[EXPUNGED]

WHAT DOES THE INQUISITION MEAN TO YOU?
The Inquisition is Humanity's best hope in the cloak-and-dagger war against corruption and heresy. The vast majority of the Imperium is lucky not to know what goes on behind the scenes of everyday life, and it is the Inquisition that keeps these dark secrets from becoming hideous truths amongst the populace. Little Susie can sleep soundly at night on her parent's Agri-World farm, never knowing that the Inquisition executed the foul traitors in their planet's government who intended to sacrifice their world to Chaos. The Inquisition allows Hiram to atone for any and all past transgressions, and to be part of something greater. On his own, he is nothing - a speck of dust in a universal hurricane. In the Inquisition, he is still nothing more than a pawn. But he is the Emperor's pawn in the great game of Fate, and he can ask for nothing more than that.

WHAT WILL YOU SACRIFICE?
What is an arm or a leg to a servant of the Adeptus Mechanicus? It can easily be replaced, and if anything only furthers his path to perfection. Like any machine, the Inquisition has a myriad of parts, and sometimes individual pieces must be replaced so that the machine may run better. If his life must be laid down for the Inquisition and Imperium, then he accepts this face. If he is called to end another life, then the will of the Emperor must be done, be it a friend, enemy, ally, heretic, or civilian. Whatever is demanded of him, Hiram will give. He owes the Emperor that much.

WHAT DO YOU DESIRE?
Hiram simply wants to serve the Emperor and the Inquisition. He knows that he must earn his keep, and he only desires to accomplish what is expected of him. He has no desire for power, no greed or lust for fame or pleasure. Now, if he happens to be given rewards for his service or come across a piece of technology or information, he will have no problem keeping it and putting it to good use. But he will not go out of his way to obtain anything.

WHAT DO YOU HATE?
Hiram holds a very strong hatred for Xenos and Xenotech. Previous experiences which led to his induction to the Inquisition, which are likely well guarded secrets and classified information, formed this bastion of revulsion and loathing within his soul. He also hates people who don't understand the Adeptus Mechanicus and their ways, and gets very annoyed when people talk about things they don't really know much about, ask him questions he doesn't feel like answering, violate his personal space, or otherwise get him irked and annoyed.

Er... If possible, can I go back and spend that last 100 XP and my remaining Thrones, or do I have to wait and get a chance to spend them in game since I took too long? :smalltongue:

[Vikingkingq]

Everyone's being a bit too friendly. Where's the paranoia and grimness? This is 40k, people!

/kidding

[Lycan 01]

I contemplated Hiram making a comment about the Hivers having a pissing contest, but it wasn't in his character. He's aloof and not prone to getting involved, and he doesn't feel like messing up the group dynamic any further than it already is. So for now, he's just gonna be as laid back as a Cogboy can be. :smalltongue:

[The_Shaman]

Hey, just because the galaxy is a crapsack doesn't mean we can't make jokes about it. By the way, is the gender of the eldar discernible? I was under the impression that it was a male one. Also, just what would we know about their kind, anyway - and would the word "farseer" mean anything to us?

[Lycan 01]

I thought most Farseers were female, but I think I've seen/heard of males before.

Indeed, how much do we know about the Eldar? Do we know the Imperium has an uneasy truce with some of their Craftworlds? Or is this all news to us? Heck, have we even seen an Eldar before? :smalleek:

[LCP]

Hey, just because the galaxy is a crapsack doesn't mean we can't make jokes about it.

Humour is the first sign of heresy :smalltongue:


I thought most Farseers were female, but I think I've seen/heard of males before.

Actually, most if not all of the models (past and present) have been male. I think it's just the computer games that have had a preponderance of female Farseers.

[The_Shaman]

@ Lycan - I am not aware of any statistics either for or against your theory, but you may be right. Male farseers certainly exist (such as the most likely late Eldrad), so much I am sure of. I think the perception that most are female may come from the DoW games, where I'd say the Eldar were stuck with a female farseer all the time to act as the token chick on the band.

[Cheesegear]

By the way, is the gender of the eldar discernible?

Male.


Also, just what would we know about their kind, anyway - and would the word "farseer" mean anything to us?

Eldar are dirty xenos that generally flee at the first sign of trouble.

As far as the word Farseer, to you, a grunt. 'Xenos Witch' checks two out of three boxes on the Emperor's Most Wanted list.

Actually ticks all three boxes. As the Xenos Witch spouted Heresy there as well. :smallwink:


Do we know the Imperium has an uneasy truce with some of their Craftworlds? Or is this all news to us?

I hadn't thought about it until Shaman brought it up IC. But, no, you probably wouldn't know that 'friendly xenos' actually exist. And now you do.


Heck, have we even seen an Eldar before?

Considering that no-one in the party is a Guardsman, probably not. LCP/Chaldia may have heard of them before, but never actually come face-to-face with one of them.

[Avaris]

Gah, I'm away for a day and you start! Will get posting properly tonight, but until then heres a character sheet repost.



Background
“Teacher, who should I love the most? My parents, who have cared for and nurtured me since I was newborn?”
“Love not your parents child, for their sin is found in your flesh.”
“My partner then, she who has stood beside me as comfort and support in the darkest days?”
“Love not your partner child, for the pain of life is a blessed gift given to each of us to bear alone.”
“The babe in my arms then Teacher, who brings happiness and joy through their innocence?”
“Love not the babe child, for to look to the future is to forget your own work.”
“Then surely you Teacher, who has guided me and blessed me with your wisdom?”
“Love not your mentor child, for even the wisest can lead you astray.”
“Then who should I love the most? Who can give more than the nurture of a parent, the comfort of a partner, the innocence of a child and the wisdom of a mentor?”
“Love only the Emperor child. He is your parent and your partner, your mentor and your child. His is the only love you need.”
- The 34th conversation of St Dardanos



The Moritat recruit their followers from those whose childhoods were tainted by death, and Deimos Mabon is no exception. His earliest memories are of living on a shrine world, though its name has since been lost to him. Raised by pious parents, Deimos was already well versed in the imperial creed when, at the age of six, his life was torn asunder.

The xenos descended upon the shrines of his homeworld astride howling steeds of fire, their weapons spitting invisible blades of death that opened a thousand cuts upon the flesh of his screaming parents. The alien’s sport allowed no mercy, and in his panic Deimos found himself shepherded into the shrine of a forgotten saint. The bones of countless pilgrims lay scattered upon the floor, yet Deimos found himself drawn toward the casket at the room’s centre. A broken femur made for a brutal yet effective weapon; either by luck or surprise the child drove it through his pursuer’s eye and deep into its skull.

It was there, covered in the unclean blood of an alien, that the man Deimos knew only as Master found him. Still clutching the shards of bone the child was taken from his burning homeworld and welcomed into a new family, the Moritat. The blood of the alien could only be cleansed through the pure blood of man, and so Deimos was taught to kill. For years he inscribed every lesson learned upon his body, and when his flesh was finally full he was dispatched to do the Emperor’s work, knowing that his master was always watching, waiting for his disciple to be ready for full indoctrination in the Moritat.

As a highly skilled killer, it was perhaps inevitable that Deimos would eventually draw the attention of the Inquisition. Though dangerous, the Moritat frequently prove a useful tool, and so it was that Deimos was contracted by [insert inquisitor’s name here]. Unlike most in the inquisitor’s service Deimos has yet to prove himself directly, though the legacy of the Moritat makes him a worthy servant.



Stats

Initial rolls (for reference I prefer to either use actual dice or the Rock’n’roll dice roller on my laptop, however if you prefer me to use an online roller I will start doing so):
6, 13, 9, 10, 5, 14, 16, 11, 11, 12

Deimos Mabon
Imperial World Assassin (Sell-Steel)

Ws: 41
Bs: 26
S: 32
T: 31
Ag: 37
Int: 30
Per: 33
WP: 34
Fel: 24

Fate Points: 2
Wounds: 11

Divination: To war is human (included above)

Traits/Talents
Blessed Ignorance (-5 to Forbidden Lore tests)
Hagiography (Common Lore (Imperial Creed), Common Lore (Imperium) and Common Lore (War) are basic skills)
Liturgical Familiarity (Literacy and Speak Language (High Gothic) are basic skills)
Superior Origins (included above)
Melee Weapon training (primitive)
Ambidextrous
Thrown Weapon training
Basic weapon training (SP)
Pistol Training (SP)
Jaded
The Bloody Edge (Hard WP test to use non-bladed weapon, bladed weapons have Tearing quality)

Skills
Speak Language (Low Gothic)
Awareness
Dodge
Climb
Secret Tongue (Moritat)
Shadowing
Silent Move

Equipment
Mono-sword with carved bone handle
6 Throwing Knives
Hand bow with 20 bolts
Grapnel and Line
Equipment Harness
3 doses stimm
Protective Bodyglove (2 pts armour per location)
138 Throne Gelt

Experience
Moritat Background Package (300xp, see pg 31 Inquisitor’s handbook)
+5 Ws (100)

Haven’t bought any extra equipment yet, but will update if and when I do.

[Lycan 01]

So can I go back and spend my 151 Thrones, or do I need to go to the armory? :smalltongue:

[Vikingkingq]

Cheese? I'd like to get this armory thing done so that we can wrap up the pre-game, so to speak, so when you've got a chance...

[The_Shaman]

Ok, how likely is a hive arbitrator to have heard of the Moritat, and what would he know of it? I have the strange feeling that they might be known in his Adeptus... and not too popular ;) .

[Avaris]

According to the Inquisitor's handbook the existence of the Moritat is something of an open secret among the Calixian noble houses and the Adepta, though facts are scarce. There often seems a fair amount of toleration by the higher powers however. Ultimately its up to you and the gm though :smalltongue:

Also, in case anyone is wondering, I have little intention of ever NOT talkng in scripture...

[The_Shaman]

I suppose that since Garvel has the knowledge for his Adeptus, he might have heard of it. The question is, how much... Cheese, would you do the honors of adjudicating :smallwink: ?

[Thanatos 51-50]

Hey, that's not fair! All the aggressive stuff Eli has said has been to Sam. In Metallican.
Well, he did drop that passive-agressive "Go to shoot things" comment in Low Gothic, but still. Sadface.

[The_Shaman]

Well, he's obviously a gun nut, and that meant in the bad sense in 40k (and takes some effort to be one in that setting). Remember, Garvel is an arbitrator. Guys who wuv their guns too bad and are ready to shoot anything up on a whim are, generally, bad news when your job is to lay down the smack... oops, law. And I believe he knows Eli is a hired gun, which is probably not a very liked profession in his adeptus.

But yeah, right now he'd much rather be around Eli.

[Vikingkingq]

Hey, that's not fair! All the aggressive stuff Eli has said has been to Sam. In Metallican.
Well, he did drop that passive-agressive "Go to shoot things" comment in Low Gothic, but still. Sadface.

Keep in mind that Metallican is a dialect, not a different language.

I wonder if the Sisters have any stub shells/weaponry?

[The_Shaman]

Hmm, interesting question - in DH, novice sisters iirc stared with solid projectile weaponry, not the holy bolters, but I'm not sure novice sisters would be sent on such a mission anyway. Still, I think they probably would have some in the arsenal.

[Cheesegear]

Hooray! Time for posts. For those interested, I spent some of the weekend in hospital. Which took most of my time. Then, during the week, I spent more time in the hospital...But - during the week - I was working there, rather than being a patient. :smallwink:


So can I go back and spend my 151 Thrones, or do I need to go to the armory? :smalltongue:

No-one's getting anything from the armoury. Just FYI.


Ok, how likely is a hive arbitrator to have heard of the Moritat, and what would he know of it?.

Highly likely, and not much. Save that they're a bunch of loonies.


I wonder if the Sisters have any stub shells/weaponry?


Still, I think they probably would have some in the arsenal.

They don't.

...The new Multi-Quote is the best.

I only did a narrative for Viking, because he was the only one who needed it. If you can get a post in before my next post (which will be soon), that'd be great. But, don't feel obligated to. It's only worth Roleplaying XP after all, and who wants that? :smallconfused:

[Lycan 01]

Hm. Soooo, save my Thrones, or retroactively buy gear? :smallconfused:



Ooooooh, roleplaying XP? Too bad Hiram doesn't really have much personality. I suppose I could have him stand in a corner and stare at a lightbulb for the next three days... XD


Hm. So what are some places Hiram might find interesting? You seem to keep mentioning the Cafeteria, so I feel that may be a place worth checking out. But I dunno if Hiram is far enough along his Mechanicus vows to still need food, or just nutrient injections. Perhaps his breathe mask is removable for chowing down? :smalltongue:

If he passed by the Armory, would Hiram notice the situation going on in there? This Sister sounds like a fun person to chat with. :smallbiggrin:

[Cheesegear]

Hm. Soooo, save my Thrones, or retroactively buy gear? :smallconfused:

There'll be a time to buy gear later - and loot corpses. So, yeah. Save your Thrones.


Ooooooh, roleplaying XP? Too bad Hiram doesn't really have much personality. I suppose I could have him stand in a corner and stare at a lightbulb for the next three days...XD

You're not thinking hard enough. Having no personality is a personality all to itself because it's not normal. It's just really hard to pull off. One of the best characters I've ever played with, was a character who couldn't talk. So...If you can pull it off, that'd be amazing. If you can't...Well, you'll know if you can't.


So what are some places Hiram might find interesting? You seem to keep mentioning the Cafeteria

I mentioned it once. And another once-in-passing.


I feel that may be a place worth checking out.

People who hate you are eating their food. What's 'worth checking out' is what you choose to do with it.


But I dunno if Hiram is far enough along his Mechanicus vows to still need food, or just nutrient injections. Perhaps his breathe mask is removable for chowing down? :smalltongue:

Servitors and Engine-Seers are mandatory on a vessel of the size you're currently on. So, there's something that would need to provide for them too. If not food.


If he passed by the Armory, would Hiram notice the situation going on in there?

He would. It's hard not to notice angry people when one has a gun.

[LCP]

If you can get a post in before my next post (which will be soon), that'd be great. But, don't feel obligated to. It's only worth Roleplaying XP after all, and who wants that?

Does this mean your next post is going to be a time-skip to the end of the 3 days?

Just wondering, so as to know what kind of a thing to post. How much leeway do we have with wandering around and describing things ourselves?

[Cheesegear]

Does this mean your next post is going to be a time-skip to the end of the 3 days?

As long as you keep posting in the same setting, I'll keep posting in the same setting. When everybody's stuck for ideas, or just not posting, I'll move on.

[Vikingkingq]

I'm really enjoying riling the sisters. Not the smartest thing to do, but Sam's a bit perverse when it comes to dames with huge...bolters.

[Cheesegear]

Harubi? Tsk, tsk.

...I fixed it.

...Also, look at the models, you think every single on of those Sisters have white hair naturally? :smallwink:

[Vikingkingq]

...I fixed it.

...Also, look at the models, you think every single on of those Sisters have white hair naturally? :smallwink:

Gratzi.

Funny, I've always thought of the Sororitas as brunettes.

Anyhoo, after this quick convo, I think Sam's done in so far as bumming around the ship goes. He prefers an Arbites precinct to a Sororitas barge, where at least a man can smoke in peace.

[Lycan 01]

Hmmmmm... Actually, I seem to have gotten slightly mixed up. Hiram does have a personality - he's aloof and absent-minded, rather than completely apathetic and callous. So I think I can actually play him rather well, albeit not perfectly. So even if I don't get XP for his antics, I can at least have fun making small side comments and getting lost in thought during important moments.


Lets see... Sister or Sam? Who shall I bug first? :smallamused:

[Vikingkingq]

Hmmmmm... Actually, I seem to have gotten slightly mixed up. Hiram does have a personality - he's aloof and absent-minded, rather than completely apathetic and callous. So I think I can actually play him rather well, albeit not perfectly. So even if I don't get XP for his antics, I can at least have fun making small side comments and getting lost in thought during important moments.


Lets see... Sister or Sam? Who shall I bug first? :smallamused:

Sisters don't need to be brought up to speed.

[Lycan 01]

Yes, but they are also fun to mess with, and Hiram would loooooove to get his hands on anything in the Armory, if only to have the satisfaction of blessing it. :smallbiggrin:


I think I'll go check out the Armory, then "catch up" to Sam in the Cafeteria. I'll wait for Cheesegear to react to your character's question anyway, since its rude to interupt, and then I think Hiram will pop in to make a wity comment or two, and possibly scold you for smacking the door rune. :smalltongue:

[Thanatos 51-50]

Man, now my haughty, arrogant, somewhat of a jerk character has got to act all humble if he hopes to achieve results.

[Lycan 01]

10 Thrones says he snaps. :smallamused:

[Thanatos 51-50]

10 Thrones says he snaps. :smallamused:

Sucker bet.

[Lycan 01]

On who's part? :smallamused:

I'm just gonna love it when they see through his charade and commence with the vocal immolation. Because we all know its gonna happen. :smalltongue:

[Thanatos 51-50]

On who's part? :smallamused:

I'm just gonna love it when they see through his charade and commence with the vocal immolation. Because we all know its gonna happen. :smalltongue:

Anyone who bets against you.

[Cheesegear]

Anyone who bets against you.

Gunmetal fo' life, yo! Represent.

Also, roll Charm.

[Thanatos 51-50]

Oh, Right. Charm.
It's Untrained, so, Half Fellowship.

[roll0]

EDIT:
And, without modifiers... that's successful. Huh.

[Cheesegear]

10 Thrones says he snaps. :smallamused:


Sucker bet.


And, without modifiers... that's successful. Huh.

...Sounds like someone owes someone else 10 Thrones. :smallwink:

[Thanatos 51-50]

Nobody took the bet. I'm in the clear. :smallbiggrin:

[Vikingkingq]

Hiram's starting to remind me of a mosquito, what with the deadly weakness of the pretty lights.

[Lycan 01]

He's very easily distracted. Even the most basic of Technology can make him ADD, derailing his train of thoughts and sending him into "oooooh, shiney" mode, even in the middle of an important situation. I mean, if we were having tense negotiations with a group of dangerous thugs, and the Big Bad on the other team had a big gun, augmetic limb, et cetera, Hiram wouldn't even realize he was in danger. He'd be completely focused on the Shiney, and wouldn't even acknowledge the world around him unless somebody tapped him on the shoulder or otherwise got his attention.

In other words, while he may not be a traditional Cogboy, he'll still get on everyone's nerves at some points. :smalltongue:

[Vikingkingq]

Ok, one convo with the novice, and then someone needs to catch me up, and I think Sam's done on the battle-barge so we can hit planet-side.

[Lycan 01]

Like I said, once Hiram gets a (likely hostile) response from the Sister in the Armory, he'll likely make his way to the Cafeteria, likely by accident after hours of chasing light fixtures, and stumble upon Sam as he's chatting up the Sister. Cue Hiram making Sam miserable. :smalltongue:

[Vikingkingq]

Like I said, once Hiram gets a (likely hostile) response from the Sister in the Armory, he'll likely make his way to the Cafeteria, likely by accident after hours of chasing light fixtures, and stumble upon Sam as he's chatting up the Sister. Cue Hiram making Sam miserable. :smalltongue:

Shrug. Without irreverent banter, noir would be dialogueless.

[Vikingkingq]

Gah. Keep getting trapped in NPC conversations. Someone catch Sam up so that we can move on to the planet!

[Lycan 01]

Can't catch up til Cheesegear posts for half of us. :smalltongue:


Everything okay Cheesegear? You didn't have to go to the hospital again, didja? :smallconfused:

[Cheesegear]

Everything okay Cheesegear? You didn't have to go to the hospital again, didja? :smallconfused:

Well, I did. But, I work at the hospital. Not because I came off my motorbike again and had serious concussions. :smallamused:
PROTIP: Heroes Wear Helmets.

Some other things have come up. Like an interview for a position at GW. Kind of have to weigh up whether it's worth giving up my job for the government and field of medicine for another job that lets me also do what I love and gives me a discount on toy soldiers. :smallconfused:

Post will be up tomorrow.

[Vikingkingq]

Well, I did. But, I work at the hospital. Not because I came off my motorbike again and had serious concussions. :smallamused:
PROTIP: Heroes Wear Helmets.

Some other things have come up. Like an interview for a position at GW. Kind of have to weigh up whether it's worth giving up my job for the government and field of medicine for another job that lets me also do what I love and gives me a discount on toy soldiers. :smallconfused:

Post will be up tomorrow.

Gamesworkshop? Awesome!

[Lycan 01]

You fell off your motorcycle? :smalleek:


Oooooh, a GW job? How's the pay/hours compared to your medical job? Maybe you could see about a part time affair? :smallconfused:


Take your time, man. Real life takes precident over some games. :smalltongue:

[Cheesegear]

You fell off your motorcycle? :smalleek:

I did. Somebody clipped my back wheel. And, on a motorcycle, that's all you need. Slid out and cracked my helmet on the gutter. Got a pretty sweet giant crack in my helmet. Paramedics said if I wasn't wearing my helmet, I'd be dead because that giant crack in the helmet should have been a giant crack in my skull.
Heroes Wear Helmets. Fact.

Then I spent the next two days at home, in bed, because everytime I stood up I got dizzy and vomited and just fell back down anyway. Major Concussions are the best. :smallcool:

The Bike only has a few scratches from sliding out. But, needs it's back wheel replaced. I'm not too worried about the wheel. I spend more than that on toy soldiers. :smallwink:


Maybe you could see about a part time affair? :smallconfused:

I looked into it. If I went part-time, it would mean they'd have to employ two people to get one FTE (Err...Full-Time Equivalent if you're not in the rostering business). Which they don't really want to do for obvious reasons.


Take your time, man. Real life takes precident over some games. :smalltongue:

...You're clearly not a real RPG player then... :smallamused:

[Vikingkingq]

Good to hear that you're ok. Sam's all set up to be annoyed by Hiram, btw.

[Lycan 01]

This ought to be fun. :smallbiggrin:



Cheesegear, let me know if I'm overplaying Hiram's eccentric nature. :smallconfused: I'm trying not to be too silly with him, but its kinda hard to pass up a few jokes and comments. XD

[Cheesegear]

Sam's all set up to be annoyed by Hiram, btw.

...Don't get the hint, do you?

Sam rolls Dodge. Do it.

[Lycan 01]

Guess that's a "no" to me going overboard with Hiram. :smalltongue:

Looks like he's about to be even more bemused by Sam and his antics...

[Cheesegear]

Guess that's a "no" to me going overboard with Hiram. :smalltongue:

As long as you don't go over the top when confronted with 'male' and 'female' gendered electrical ports.
Yes. Electronics uses genders... :smallamused:

[The_Shaman]

Actually, a follower of the Omnissiah would probably say, organics uses male/female connectors ;)

[Avaris]

I feel it is only appropriate for me to suggest I leave the game now, before you really get going. I am only going to be sporadically avaliable over August (1 week out of 3) and given I think I'm on a different time zone to the rest of you I miss the occasional flurries of posts which I imagine are the way this game will progress (hence why I haven't posted much). Much as I would like to stay playing, I feel I am not going to be able to contribute enough to make it worth the while of the rest of you.

Ultimately of course I will stay if you want me to, and will post as best I can. However I thought I would pre-empt any problems later.

[Vikingkingq]

...Don't get the hint, do you?

Sam rolls Dodge. Do it.

I got the hint, I figured Sam wouldn't.


Vs. Agil (31)
[roll0]

[Vikingkingq]

...and that's a bad miss. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BZTiRdcURuI)

[Lycan 01]

As long as you don't go over the top when confronted with 'male' and 'female' gendered electrical ports.
Yes. Electronics uses genders... :smallamused:

Hiram may have an unhealthy fascination with guns and light fixtures, but he is by no means a Tech Heretic. :smalltongue: Such attrocities would surely have him exiled from the Adeptus Mechanicus, and likely recycled for parts or something. At least in the lower ranks. There's no telling what goes on behind closed blast doors with the upper levels of the Machine Cult. :smalleek:


Other Techpriests, however, are fair game. Though he's not likely to go try his luck with any of the female Tech-Adepts, even if they do pique his morbid curiousity. Though it would be both funny and sad if the Cogboy was the only one to have any luck out of our group. :smallbiggrin:

I'm almost tempted to try that now... But I think Hiram has plenty of entertainment on hand, especially since it seems Sam just got dropped by an unnarmed student. XD

[The_Shaman]

Well, Garvel will just walk and watch, I guess. If something happens around him, it happens - if not, he'll try to make heads or tails of these sisters. They are much too... stuffy compared to most clerics he's seen, so he thinks there's something going on with them.

[Vikingkingq]

I'm almost tempted to try that now... But I think Hiram has plenty of entertainment on hand, especially since it seems Sam just got dropped by an unnarmed student. XD

Hey, a day where Sam Hammurabi hasn't gotten slapped by a dame is a day wasted!

[Cheesegear]

Hey, a day where Sam Hammurabi hasn't gotten slapped by a dame is a day wasted!

How very noir of you. :smallwink:

[roll0]
[roll1]

[The_Shaman]

Wasn't noir supposed to have more smoothtalking, less slapping? :smallwink:

[Cheesegear]

Wasn't noir supposed to have more smoothtalking, less slapping? :smallwink:

The dames are just supposed to send you headlong into trouble. Somehow.

Oh, look...You're on a ship full of femme fatales. In the literal sense and the literary sense.
(See what I did there?)

[Vikingkingq]

The dames are just supposed to send you headlong into trouble. Somehow.

Oh, look...You're on a ship full of femme fatales. In the literal sense and the literary sense.
(See what I did there?)

Usually, noir involves both smooth-talking and slapping. See: The Falcon, Maltese.

So, hit location?

[Thanatos 51-50]

The Hit Chart says Left Arm.

[Vikingkingq]

Ouch, right in the tattoo!

[Thanatos 51-50]

Just be happy you have the TB to soak that damage.

[Vikingkingq]

Just be happy you have the TB to soak that damage.

Yeah, part of my long-term strategy for Sam is to get his Toughness above 40, then pick up a lot of the "tank" advances - Die Hard, Iron Jaw, Hardy, True Grit, etc. The idea is a classic noir archetype: the tough guy who'll take one hell of a pounding and keep going.

[Lycan 01]

I'm pondering having Hiram become slowly obsessed with weapon Tech so he can eventually take the Mechanicus Secutor career path and become a literal tank. That, or he'll just meander along the Techpriest career path in his typical aloof way until something noteworthy occurs or he snaps under a very specific circumstance. :smalltongue:


Maybe the Cogboy can go mess with the lights to make everything Shades of Grey to fully complete the Noir feel of this scene. :smallbiggrin:

[Vikingkingq]

Maybe the Cogboy can go mess with the lights to make everything Shades of Grey to fully complete the Noir feel of this scene. :smallbiggrin:

Hah! A Cogboy who can make Real Life black and white is mighty in the ways of the Omnissiah indeed.

EDIT:

So with TB 3, I definitely soak the...(scrubbing brush?)'s damage.

[Cheesegear]

So, hit location?

It's a Called Shot, combined with All-Out Attack for a total of +0 WS modifier. She does hit. Post up tomorrow.

[The_Shaman]

But how can she dodge his witty repartee afterwards?

Oh wait, wrong system. Somewhat.

[Lycan 01]

Sam is gonna hate Hiram, but at least he's trying to help. :smalltongue:


Initiative: [roll0]

Fellowship roll, just in case: [roll1] vs 27




Wow. Did not see that coming. I don't know if I needed it or not, but if it counts, Hiram may have just saved your bacon. :smallamused:

[Cheesegear]

Wow. Did not see that coming. I don't know if I needed it or not, but if it counts, Hiram may have just saved your bacon. :smallamused:

You did not save his bacon.
Charm is an untrained Skill. So, halve your Fel...13. Then she is currently Disdainful of you (pg 230). Adding another -10. You needed a 3 to pass.

Failed by two degrees. She is now Disgusted.

A Tech-Adept, trying to tell Daughters of the Emperor what to do. Yeah, you made it worse. :smallwink:

[Thanatos 51-50]

You did not save his bacon.
Charm is an untrained Skill. So, halve your Fel...13. Then she is currently Disdainful of you (pg 230). Adding another -10. You needed a 3 to pass.

Failed by two degrees. She is now Disgusted.

A Tech-Adept, trying to tell Daughters of the Emperor what to do. Yeah, you made it worse. :smallwink:

Well, he did say please.

[Vikingkingq]

Well, Sam is being grappled by a novice Sororitas, so he might well count this as a partial success. Besides, unarmed combat is his best mode of communication!

Initiative: 1d10+3
On my turn, attempt to break Grapple (opposed Strength check)
Strength (vs. 33) 1d100

[Thanatos 51-50]

You can't preview posts with rolls in them.

In other news: :smallbiggrin:

[Vikingkingq]

Well that did not work for some reason, so I'll try again:

Initiative: [roll0]
Strength: [roll1]

[Thanatos 51-50]

Well that did not work for some reason,


You can't preview posts with rolls in them.

I wonder why.

[Vikingkingq]

You can't preview posts with rolls in them.

In other news: :smallbiggrin:

Wasn't previewing - I posted twice too close together, so it bounced.

[The_Shaman]

Is there one of those girls that doesn't have an anger management issues, or do they beat any good sense out of them? Seriously, this one was probably put to cleaning duty for beating someone up, and she's going to get it again for that :smallwink:

BTW, Garvel is still walking. LMK if he comes across Sam's love scene, or something else deserving of interest.

[Vikingkingq]

Is there one of those girls that doesn't have an anger management issues, or do they beat any good sense out of them? Seriously, this one was probably put to cleaning duty for beating someone up, and she's going to get it again for that :smallwink:


If you've read anything about the self-reinforcing dynamics of S&M/B&D, it's not that surprising. Anger-management issues plus a tendency to view punishment as shriving and good for you leads to deliberate recidivism.

[The_Shaman]

Most, probably, but usually every environment produces at least some members that aren't from the same cast. With these gals, it's like every one of them is one inch away from losing it, and it's supposed to be an environment which stresses self-control.

Ok, maybe the one you found was a screw-up :smallamused: .

[Cheesegear]

Ok, maybe the one you found was a screw-up :smallamused: .

Perhaps you found one with discipline issues as it is. Or, better yet, you're a bunch of outsiders meddling in a place you don't belong and acting like you own the place?

...Or both. :smallwink:

[The_Shaman]

Hey, we're trying to be nice here. Well, okay, nice-ish. Besides, it's kinda way too early for the Sororitas' to be deciding they are sick of our s..t, no matter how much they think every other adeptus is full of losers and a......s. It's been what, ten hours?

From what I gather, they kinda hate us from the start. That is... weird. Okay, arbitrators are used to civvies hating their guts, but the freaking SoBs? What do they have to hide?

[Vikingkingq]

Perhaps you found one with discipline issues as it is. Or, better yet, you're a bunch of outsiders meddling in a place you don't belong and acting like you own the place?

...Or both. :smallwink:

Sam's just been making innocent chitchat, the cogboy's the one being all high and mighty.

I made my strength roll, btw, Cheese.

[Vikingkingq]

Hey, we're trying to be nice here. Well, okay, nice-ish. Besides, it's kinda way too early for the Sororitas' to be deciding they are sick of our s..t, no matter how much they think every other adeptus is full of losers and a......s. It's been what, ten hours?

From what I gather, they kinda hate us from the start. That is... weird. Okay, arbitrators are used to civvies hating their guts, but the freaking SoBs? What do they have to hide?

Given Cheese's comments, I'm guessing this reaction is significant.

[Lycan 01]

Hey, I never made any demands. In fact, Hiram stressed that it was just a suggestion, and he didn't want to get directly involved. :smalleek:


And I didn't know it was a Charm test, otherwise I would have completely passed it up. I though you'd just ask for a generic Fellowship test, since I'm not really trying to impress her or get on her good side. I just want to try and reason with her...


Sooooo, Hiram will probably be leaving Sam to his fate if things get worse. Maybe the Techpriestesses will be a bit more understanding... :smalltongue:

[Cheesegear]

Sooooo, Hiram will probably be leaving Sam to his fate if things get worse. Maybe the Techpriestesses will be a bit more understanding... :smalltongue:

Yeah, this Battle-barge/Sister nonsense wont last too much longer. This initial scene was just a test of who your characters are and what they'll do when presented with certain...Stimulus.

Given that only two of you have really done anything with it...

[Cheesegear]

Oops.

Meant to do rolls.

[roll0]
[roll1]

For future reference, if you're in combat, please roll that round's Dodge (and Parry if applicable) to save a lot of time.

I'll just roll Sam's Dodge now, to save the aforementioned time.

Dodge: [roll2]

It appears the Novice has higher Initiative. And Sam failed the the Dodge anyway, and can't Dodge 'cause he's in a Grapple.

[Cheesegear]

TRIPLE POST.

Since Sam is in the grapple for another round (he doesn't break it until after the Novice has her turn), he takes damage.

Called Shot to the head. -20. Grappled, +20. Total +0. She did hit.

Take damge to the head [roll0]. -3 Unarmed damage. +3 SB. Total +0.

Total of 1 damage. Also one point of Fatigue for getting hit with an unarmed attack 'that did damage' (page 197/Errata).

Since the novice has a higher Initiative, Sam takes Fatigue damage before (-10 to all tests) his turn, and therefore fails his Strength test.

Yeah, you need a Talent to 'Takedown' someone, but, I figure Sam can do much better (RP-wise) in this situation. Besides, it isn't like the particular combat is lethal, and you've got a whole 3 days to recover.
Like I said two posts up, this wont go on much longer. I want to actually start doing things.

[Vikingkingq]

I say we plan out the rest of the fight so that we can move ahead with the plot, but

(not trying to rules-lawyer here, but...)
I'd like to point out that the Grappler can only Grapple (full action) and thus cannot make a Called Shot while Grappling. Moreover, the +20 applies to other attackers, not the Grappler.

For the Grappler to do damage, they have to do an opposed Strength check (which resolves on her turn)- which I won (24 vs. 36) by a whole Degree.

If the Sororitas is taking a swing at me, that means she had to have broken the Grapple (free action) first.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

So here's what Sam's going to do:


Round 1:
Option A (Grapple Broke):
Half-Action - Aim (+10)
Half-Action - Standard Attack ( vs. 46)
if hits, damage = [roll1] -3 + 3
Dodge rolls - [roll2] vs. 31

Option B (Took a Swing):
All-Out Attack - -10 +20 = + 10, [roll]1d100 vs. 46

Round 2:
If A:
Half Action - Feint vs. 36
Half Action (if Feint succeeds) - Standard Attack ([roll4] vs. 36
Half Action (if Feint fails) - Feint, Feint [roll5] vs. 36
If B:
All-Out Attack - -10 +20 = + 10, [roll]1d100 vs. 46

Rounds 3-n:
Repeat Round 2

[Vikingkingq]

Neither option B went through, so here goes try #2.

R1 - [roll0] vs. 46
R2 - [roll1] vs. 46

[Cheesegear]

I say we plan out the rest of the fight so that we can move ahead with the plot

It's like you think I haven't already planned it out? :smallwink:


For the Grappler to do damage, they have to do an opposed Strength check (which resolves on her turn)- which I won (24 vs. 36) by a whole Degree.

This is true. I misread the rules. You did win. But, surely Sam prefers this way more? :smallamused:

Anyway, like I said, it's not particularly important whether you win or lose. Apparently the Grapple rules are just as annoying in Dark Heresy.

[Vikingkingq]

It's like you think I haven't already planned it out? :smallwink:


True, I meant plan out my actions so we could resolve the fight without too much back and forth, slowing down the plot.

So Sam will trade blows with the novice, all the while cracking really bad suggestive jokes about wrestling, takes any shots in good humor, until "best of three" is over.

After which point, will offer Novice a hit from his flask as reward/consolation prize.



This is true. I misread the rules. You did win. But, surely Sam prefers this way more? :smallamused:

Anyway, like I said, it's not particularly important whether you win or lose. Apparently the Grapple rules are just as annoying in Dark Heresy.

Yeah, Grapple rules are a bit odd. The way it seems supposed to go is that you individually try to wear your opponent into unconsciousness, but it really shines when you have allies using the +20 from Grapple (and +10/20) from outnumbering to whale on the grappled person who can't parry or dodge.

You can assume that Sam is making jokes about any position he end up in.

[Vikingkingq]

I say we plan out the rest of the fight so that we can move ahead with the plot, but

(not trying to rules-lawyer here, but...)
I'd like to point out that the Grappler can only Grapple (full action) and thus cannot make a Called Shot while Grappling. Moreover, the +20 applies to other attackers, not the Grappler.

For the Grappler to do damage, they have to do an opposed Strength check (which resolves on her turn)- which I won (24 vs. 36) by a whole Degree.

If the Sororitas is taking a swing at me, that means she had to have broken the Grapple (free action) first.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

So here's what Sam's going to do:


Round 1:
Option A (Grapple Broke):
Half-Action - Aim (+10)
Half-Action - Standard Attack ( vs. 46)
if hits, damage = [roll1] -3 + 3
Dodge rolls - [roll2] vs. 31

Option B (Took a Swing):
All-Out Attack - -10 +20 = + 10, [roll]1d100 vs. 46

Round 2:
If A:
Half Action - Feint vs. 36
Half Action (if Feint succeeds) - Standard Attack ([roll4] vs. 36
Half Action (if Feint fails) - Feint, Feint [roll5] vs. 36
If B:
All-Out Attack - -10 +20 = + 10, [roll]1d100 vs. 46

Rounds 3-n:
Repeat Round 2


So it looks like with Option A, I tag her in Round 1 (dep. on Dodge), Feint but then whiff with the punch in Round 2, and you call it for rounds 3-n.

For Option B, looks like I hit in Rounds 1, 2 (dep. on Dodge).

Do you want to write up the whole scene, or should I write Sam's half?

[Lycan 01]

Please post Sam's response, Vikingkingq. I'd love Hiram to hear what you have to say before going off to have a chat with the other Tech-Adepts.


If that's alright, of course. I'm not looking for an in-depth conversation or anything. But if Hiram going off to check with the other Mechanicus folks (and possibly try his luck with a sparky Techpriestess, just for kicks and giggles) is too much trouble or an unneccessary waste of time, I can just have him skitter back to his quarters.

[Vikingkingq]

Please post Sam's response, Vikingkingq. I'd love Hiram to hear what you have to say before going off to have a chat with the other Tech-Adepts.

If that's alright, of course. I'm not looking for an in-depth conversation or anything. But if Hiram going off to check with the other Mechanicus folks (and possibly try his luck with a sparky Techpriestess, just for kicks and giggles) is too much trouble or an unneccessary waste of time, I can just have him skitter back to his quarters.

Well, Sam's a bit tied up with the Sororitas at the moment, and it's hard to write without knowing if a blow will land.

[Lycan 01]

Oh, are you waiting for Cheesegear to edit his post or something? Because it just left off with Sam being straddled by an angry Sororitas, and I figured you'd have something witty or stupid to say. So I didn't want to butt in with Hiram making a remark or anything, since that might screw up a joke or something you had planned. :smalltongue:

So should I post something, or wait for ya'll to resolve whether or not she even hit or grappled Sam? :smallconfused:

[Vikingkingq]

Oh, are you waiting for Cheesegear to edit his post or something? Because it just left off with Sam being straddled by an angry Sororitas, and I figured you'd have something witty or stupid to say. So I didn't want to butt in with Hiram making a remark or anything, since that might screw up a joke or something you had planned. :smalltongue:

So should I post something, or wait for ya'll to resolve whether or not she even hit or grappled Sam? :smallconfused:

I think I'll post my half here and let Cheese do the resolved version in the ic thread.

[Vikingkingq]

(going to selfishly mix and match my results here, just to show how Sam would like the fight to go. Cheese can figure out how it actually happens - and then I'd like to get planet-side so we can meet the Arbites)


Sam drops to the floor as the Sister rides him down to the floor straddling the Metallican ex-Arbiter across the waist. One hand on Sam's collar, and her right fist making ready for another punch.

Round 1:

I shrug off the pain easily enough and raise an eyebrow. "What's with you battle-broads and getting all handsy? First the other blond offers to spank me without even a first date, and now you're slamming me onto the floor? Well, you know what they say - love HURTS-" As I'm talking, I wait for the moment where her temper overcomes her battle-discipline, and her fist goes back and leaves her head completely open.

I snap my head back and forwards and give her noggin a teeth-rattling smack. As she falls backwards, I push backwards and roll up and onto my feet, and fall into an easy righty's stance.

"Like I said, baby. Use of surprise is important."

Damage in Round 1 - 6 Wounds
If that blows through her Toughness Bonus, fight obviously ends there


Round 2:

The novice comes up with murder in her eyes, and it gives me a nice warm shiver inside. Weeks cooped up in this sanctimonious tin-can without any chance to stretch my muscles just melts away as I begin to dance from foot to foot.

"So I figure you get one, and I get one. So let's go for a tiebreaker." I look over her left shoulder and let my eyes widen with a look of mock alarm. "Oh, hello there, Mother Superior!"

At the same moment, I feint with a right jab to maximize disorientation and slam a left hook into her gut. I pull it just enough to avoid doing any damage, but enough to make sure she's winded. "Just wanted to show you I can take your breath away," I whisper into her ear as she begins to fold over.


Damage in Round 2 - 5 Wounds
If that blows through her Toughness Bonus, fight obviously ends there


Round 3:

As the novice falls, I half turn to the right to get out the way and give her a righteous smack on the fanny. "Nice try, juvie! Remember to control your temper, and keep your guard up at all times."


Damage in Round 3 - 5 Wounds
If that blows through her Toughness Bonus, fight obviously ends there

[Lycan 01]

I have a bad feeling about this...


You just punched a novice Sororitas in a room full of her friends and comrades. Which may not end well for you. Or us, if they think Hiram is your buddy. So, this should be interesting. :smalleek:

[Vikingkingq]

I have a bad feeling about this...


You just punched a novice Sororitas in a room full of her friends and comrades. Which may not end well for you. Or us, if they think Hiram is your buddy. So, this should be interesting. :smalleek:

Who bodychecked a guest into a wall.
Who is already on penance for, I'm just guessing here, some sort of temper-related infraction.

[Lycan 01]

She was provoked, and rather than just trying to break the grapple, you fought back. And your Round 3 action is probably not going to fly with them if it comes to pass. :smalltongue:


Oh well. Your problem, not Hiram's. :smallbiggrin:

[Vikingkingq]

She was provoked, and rather than just trying to break the grapple, you fought back. And your Round 3 action is probably not going to fly with them if it comes to pass. :smalltongue:


Oh well. Your problem, not Hiram's. :smallbiggrin:

Think what people will actually have seen.

I wasn't talking loud enough for anyone to overhear, I show an Adeptes tattoo of the aquilla, I get attacked. That's not provocation.

But in any case, Sam's out of patience with the rudeness of the Sororitas on this ship.

[Lycan 01]

I'm not arguing with you. I'm just point out that its not outside reason for them to possibly attack you or both of us because of this. I guess it just depends on how mean Cheesegear wants to be. :smalltongue:

[Cheesegear]

But in any case, Sam's out of patience with the rudeness of the Sororitas on this ship.

About bloody time. Not that I tried to beat you over the head or anything, but, you barely even challenged the Lady of the Armoury. You really think she would have shot an agent of the Inquisition (partly because I felt that it would have ended the game, right there), she's not that dumb. Despite her threats.


I guess it just depends on how mean Cheesegear wants to be. :smalltongue:

How mean I want to be? :smallamused:
Nah, I can't do that without letting you guys be much more powerful than you actually are.

[Thanatos 51-50]

How mean I want to be? :smallamused:
Nah, I can't do that without letting you guys be much more powerful than you actually are.

Oh. Crap.
For some reason, I have a fear of Genestealers gnawing at the corners of my brain after reading this sentence.

Also: Yeah, still here.
It's just that Eli really doing anything isn't appropriate to the time-line I already posted, as he's still on the training field, working out by the time this is going down, methinks.
And it would just be me being insufferably metagamey and stroker my ego by writing a lot for no reason, anyway.
I'm a patient man.

[Lycan 01]

Well, he did say this was a time where we could get roleplaying XP, so just posting "pointless" stuff might actually work out in your favor. :smalltongue:

[Thanatos 51-50]

I also seem to have written out any openings for which to do stuff.
Unless there's some stimulus that messes with my timeline, Eli doesn't do anything to agitate to organism of the Radiant Host until Prayers, where he's going to head to the shooting range and be sneered at, and then make up something about how his gunplay is his form of Prayer to the Emperor if pressed.

[Lycan 01]

He's gotta get hungry, right? It seems logical that we'd all wind up in the cafeteria at some point. So perhaps he goes to get some grub and sees Sam getting tackled while Hiram's please for peace get shot down? Or you were there the whole time, since it is a bit of a fluid timeline, and you're only just now getting involved or realizing we're there. :smalltongue:

[Thanatos 51-50]

He's gotta get hungry, right? It seems logical that we'd all wind up in the cafeteria at some point. So perhaps he goes to get some grub and sees Sam getting tackled while Hiram's please for peace get shot down? Or you were there the whole time, since it is a bit of a fluid timeline, and you're only just now getting involved or realizing we're there. :smalltongue:

Grub is in the timeline:
My current timeline is:
Work out until exhausted (Shouldn't take long with his toughness score) -> Shower -> Grub -> Rack until Prayers -> Shooting Range during Prayers

[Vikingkingq]

About bloody time. Not that I tried to beat you over the head or anything, but, you barely even challenged the Lady of the Armoury. You really think she would have shot an agent of the Inquisition (partly because I felt that it would have ended the game, right there), she's not that dumb. Despite her threats.


Sam partly backed off because he doesn't (yet) know how to use anything he saw in the arsenal, and he was after weaponry he could use.

But I thought the rudeness was unusual and it's good is actually significant.

[LCP]

For some reason, I have a fear of Genestealers gnawing at the corners of my brain

A perfectly justifiable fear :smallbiggrin:

[Vikingkingq]

A perfectly justifiable fear :smallbiggrin:

And yet, in the 40k universe, somehow quaintly mundane.

[Thanatos 51-50]

A perfectly justifiable fear :smallbiggrin:

And one that I blame you for.

[The_Shaman]

And yet, in the 40k universe, somehow quaintly mundane.

Oh? I thought mundane fears were dying in a supernatural fever, being tortured as a heretic without being one, or getting shot by another human (with or without any chaos taint). Genestealers are practically exotic compared to that :)


I also seem to have written out any openings for which to do stuff.
Unless there's some stimulus that messes with my timeline, Eli doesn't do anything to agitate to organism of the Radiant Host until Prayers, where he's going to head to the shooting range and be sneered at, and then make up something about how his gunplay is his form of Prayer to the Emperor if pressed.

Yeah, sounds familiar - barring any particular encounters, Garvel will probably do that too. He can be cocky at times, but he probably has enough respect for the AS not to go out of his way to annoy them on their ship. At most, he might practice by himself in one of the halls if its empty.

Hey, actually he wouldn't mind sharing a drink or a practice fistfight with Sam.

[The_Shaman]

Doublepost, sorry

[Vikingkingq]

Oh? I thought mundane fears were dying in a supernatural fever, being tortured as a heretic without being one, or getting shot by another human (with or without any chaos taint). Genestealers are practically exotic compared to that :)

....

Hey, actually he wouldn't mind sharing a drink or a practice fistfight with Sam.

Mundane in the sense that it's a purely physical threat. Not say, creeping Cthonic madness, the sudden horror of mutation, a soul-shattering brush with the Warp or the true face of a Daemon....you know, I really shouldn't give Cheese any more ideas.

While I have no objections to this, I'd kind of done with the ship and would like to get to the main plot I mean arbites.

[LCP]

Mundane in the sense that it's a purely physical threat.

Except for being implanted with alien genetics that rework your brain into a willing slave of the Brood Mind, to act as a navigational beacon for an omnivorous extragalactic locust swarm saying "good eats here". Plus, gribbly hybrid children that are the apple of their brainwashed parents' eye...


While I have no objections to this, I'd kind of done with the ship and would like to get to the main plot I mean arbites.

^Seconded.

[Vikingkingq]

Except for being implanted with alien genetics that rework your brain into a willing slave of the Brood Mind, to act as a navigational beacon for an omnivorous extragalactic locust swarm saying "good eats here". Plus, gribbly hybrid children that are the apple of their brainwashed parents' eye...

^Seconded.

Fair enough. I was assuming that nibbling = being eaten by genestealers, as opposed to = turned into a genestealer.

[Vikingkingq]

While we're waiting on the fight resolution and scenewipe to getting off the ship, I thought it might be a good idea to strategize for a bit about how to proceed once the party makes planetfall (which is good to do ahead of time).

Combat:
Looking at our party, we've got three good shooters (Garv, Eli, and me), all of whom can also melee a bit, two meleers (Deimos, Chaldia), and Hiram. In combat, if the three shooters can coordinate a gunline, we should be able to put up quite a bit of firepower to whittle down opposition before we close - especially if we coordinate targets (better to drop an enemy each round than wound three who can still act).

Melee-wise, Sam's going to specialize in boxing (going to look for lots of glove-type weapons) and pick up the various skills that will allow him to grapple, stun, and knock people down. This should work nicely in synch with those folks carrying the shiny edged things to set them up. Just something to keep in mind.

Non-Combat:

In terms of our skills and the nature of relatively low-statted beginning characters, it might be helpful to find ways to complement each other, especially on the more important tasks. For example, both Garvel and Sam have investigation skills - Inquiry, Awareness, Scrutiny (Garv's a bit better statted on these). But if Garv and Sam work together, our chance of succeeding on Inquiry goes from 37% to 47%, or 38% to 48% on Awareness, etc.

So if we need to do some investigative work, might make sense to pair up the two Arbites to take advantage of that. Deimos and Eli seem best suited to more covert sneaking around, and again, being able to Assist helps. Hiram has the tech stuff, obviously, and Chaldia can deal with any religious interactions.

Any thoughts?

[The_Shaman]

Actually, we may have one problem in ranged combat - we aren't that well equipped for longer-ranged engagements, maybe not at all unless Chaldia has a lasgun or autogun (maybe not even then, unless her BS score is not modified for any advances). IIRC both arbitrators have shotguns only, maybe Sam has a pistol as well; Eli is a gunslinger so he either can't use longer-ranged weaponry or takes a serious penalty to doing so. It might not come into use much, but I think it might be useful to buy some iron to remedy that problem one of these days ;) .

BTW, Garvel would probably pick at least some melee-related advances (especially regarding the use of truncheon/club and shock weaponry, when that becomes available), although he would still favor shooting. Actually, if Sam has some time we may have a sparring session, possible OOC so we don't bog the game too much.

[Vikingkingq]

Actually, we may have one problem in ranged combat - we aren't that well equipped for longer-ranged engagements, maybe not at all unless Chaldia has a lasgun or autogun. IIRC both arbitrators have shotguns only, maybe Sam has a pistol as well; Eli is a gunslinger so he either can't use longer-ranged weaponry or takes a serious penalty to doing so. It might not come into use much, but I think it might be useful to buy some iron to remedy that problem one of these days ;) .

BTW, Garvel would probably pick at least some melee-related advances (especially regarding the use of truncheon/club and shock weaponry, when that becomes available), although he would still favor shooting. Actually, if Sam has some time we may have a sparring session, possible OOC so we don't bog the game too much.

True. But most firefights, especially of the type that we're going to be in, are shorter-range. But it might be a good idea to grab an autogun or two from the Arbites stores to plump out our arsenal - which is what Sam was looking for in the Armory here, but no luck.

Sam's probably busy with the fight (and I want to get off the ship), but OOC or something set earlier in the trip might not be a bad idea.

[Thanatos 51-50]

Hey, Cheese, is this (http://www.amazon.com/Enforcer-Warhammer-40-000-Omnibus/dp/1844168794/ref=wl_it_dp_o?ie=UTF8&coliid=I23OBBYC2IXDZP&colid=EQTPPFI1B2P6) the 40k/Arbites/noir thing you were talking about?

[LCP]

STRATEGY

Chaldia's starting stats were actually pretty poor: the statline you see is with a fair chunk of her starting XP blown on bringing her stats up to scratch, and even then she's still got a TB of 2. It seems rather fitting to me: she's still very young, and copped a fair bit of violent abuse re-education from the sisters in the Scholam.

As such, she isn't exactly going to be a shining star in any capacity - at least until she can get her hands on some delicious Sororitas advances. However, I'm hoping that with the mono-flail and armour, she can at least mess up people with less dedicated melee gear... which would be most gangers, lowlives and other deviant scum. Getting into contact with 'em, however, might prove a little more challenging.

[Vikingkingq]

Chaldia's starting stats were actually pretty poor: the statline you see is with a fair chunk of her starting XP blown on bringing her stats up to scratch, and even then she's still got a TB of 2. It seems rather fitting to me: she's still very young, and copped a fair bit of violent abuse re-education from the sisters in the Scholam.

As such, she isn't exactly going to be a shining star in any capacity - at least until she can get her hands on some delicious Sororitas advances. However, I'm hoping that with the mono-flail and armour, she can at least mess up people with less dedicated melee gear... which would be most gangers, lowlives and other deviant scum. Getting into contact with 'em, however, might prove a little more challenging.

Yeah, I was sort of guessing with Chaldia. Which route do you plan to go, btw?

[Lycan 01]

Hiram has Tech covered pretty good, be he's also got a Las Carbine and a BS of 29, so its not like he's totally useless.

Not sure what path he's gonna go, to be honest. :smallconfused:

[Cheesegear]

In combat, if the three shooters can coordinate a gunline, we should be able to put up quite a bit of firepower to whittle down opposition before we close - especially if we coordinate targets (better to drop an enemy each round than wound three who can still act).

Get Micro-Beads. They're not too expensive. Arbites might have some. :smallamused:


This should work nicely in synch with those folks carrying the shiny edged things to set them up. Just something to keep in mind.

I approve.
Also, the Blather skill seems in-character. Or perhaps a bizarre version of Charm.

...I've looked, it appears that there is not 'Taunt' skill or Talent (although, if anyone does find it, show me). On a Fel vs. Wp check, your opponent must make an All-Out Attack against you in the next round, and only you ignoring other combatants.

Sure, they get +20 to hit you. But, they also can't Dodge or Parry. Which is a pretty bad move in close combat. Also, yeah. Dark Heresy lacks Taunt. Protect those squishies.

Maybe when you add difficulty modifiers, they might actually break cover to get to you...Nah, that's potentially broken. I think I'll leave it for a while. It's defintely not something you can get now, anyway.


Actually, we may have one problem in ranged combat - we aren't that well equipped for longer-ranged engagements, maybe not at all unless Chaldia has a lasgun or autogun (maybe not even then, unless her BS score is not modified for any advances). IIRC both arbitrators have shotguns only, maybe Sam has a pistol as well; Eli is a gunslinger so he either can't use longer-ranged weaponry or takes a serious penalty to doing so. It might not come into use much, but I think it might be useful to buy some iron to remedy that problem one of these days.

...Alright. Intentionally putting you guys into long-ranged firefights it is! Nah...I'm not that cruel. But, you have given me an idea.
(Friends, thank Shaman)


BTW, Garvel would probably pick at least some melee-related advances (especially regarding the use of truncheon/club and shock weaponry, when that becomes available), although he would still favor shooting.

Ever tried using a Shotgun in Point Black range? Scatter weapons are brutal.


True. But most firefights, especially of the type that we're going to be in, are shorter-range.

Who told you that? :smallconfused:
Nah, you are going into a Hive. Not much call for long-range for a while.


Hey, Cheese, is this (http://www.amazon.com/Enforcer-Warhammer-40-000-Omnibus/dp/1844168794/ref=wl_it_dp_o?ie=UTF8&coliid=I23OBBYC2IXDZP&colid=EQTPPFI1B2P6) the 40k/Arbites/noir thing you were talking about?

Yes. And it is awesome.


Yeah, I was sort of guessing with Chaldia. Which route do you plan to go, btw?

That could be handy (for me) to know for everyone. So I can plan loot and encounters accordingly. Not all classes are as easy to plan loot for as Psykers (Force Weapon, ASAP).

However, if you guys do want to 'wing it', I'm okay with that too.

[Vikingkingq]

Get Micro-Beads. They're not too expensive. Arbites might have some. :smallamused:

I approve.
Also, the Blather skill seems in-character. Or perhaps a bizarre version of Charm.

...I've looked, it appears that there is not 'Taunt' skill or Talent (although, if anyone does find it, show me). On a Fel vs. Wp check, your opponent must make an All-Out Attack against you in the next round, and only you ignoring other combatants.

Sure, they get +20 to hit you. But, they also can't Dodge or Parry. Which is a pretty bad move in close combat. Also, yeah. Dark Heresy lacks Taunt. Protect those squishies.

Maybe when you add difficulty modifiers, they might actually break cover to get to you...Nah, that's potentially broken. I think I'll leave it for a while. It's defintely not something you can get now, anyway.


You know, I hadn't planned on that. But I was planning to work on investigative skills. And being an abrasive jerk is definitely a noir theme, more the Jake Gettes than the Phillip Marlowe angel. So might be worth thinking about. I will have the Toughness to play tank.

And I'm definitely getting some microbeads.



...Alright. Intentionally putting you guys into long-ranged firefights it is! Nah...I'm not that cruel. But, you have given me an idea.
(Friends, thank Shaman)

Ever tried using a Shotgun in Point Black range? Scatter weapons are brutal.

Who told you that? :smallconfused:
Nah, you are going into a Hive. Not much call for long-range for a while.

Thank you, Shaman.

No, it's that in reality, most firefights tend to be in med-to-short range because while guns can be accurate out to long distances, people's eyes aren't that accurate. It's one of the reasons why post-WWI/II, armies starting moving range specifications from like 1000 yards to 400-500 yards, because they found that actual infantry firefights didn't get further range than that.

I picked up Enforcer. I really liked the first and third novels, and it was a goldmine for Arbites stuff. Second wasn't as good.

[Vikingkingq]

Ok, I think we're done with the ship.

Teneal? Really?

EDIT: I posted, Cheese, so Sam's ready to move to the next scene.

[Thanatos 51-50]

Get Micro-Beads. They're not too expensive. Arbites might have some. :smallamused:

Yes. And it is awesome.

Have one already.

Also: It is now on my Amazon wishlist.

[Cheesegear]

You know, I hadn't planned on that. But I was planning to work on investigative skills. [...] I will have the Toughness to play tank.

Due to the way the XP System in DH works, it's quite possible to work on 'everything' at the same time.


And I'm definitely getting some microbeads.

I've found them to be invaluable when some of the party can see stuff that the other half can't. The party can have spotters, etc. Or when you need to communicate over distances and yelling across the room doesn't cut it when enemies are about.


No, it's that in reality, most firefights tend to be in med-to-short range because while guns can be accurate out to long distances, people's eyes aren't that accurate.

Kind of like Archers in D&D with terrible Spot checks. Seriously though, if you're playing a Sniper with poor Perception and/or leaving Awareness untrained, or, better yet, not using Scopes, you deserve everything you don't get.


I picked up Enforcer. I really liked the first and third novels, and it was a goldmine for Arbites stuff. Second wasn't as good.

Blind (the third) was my favourite.
However, in the first few pages when she just smacks down somebody who wouldn't get out of her way, I was hooked.

You're in the way...
- Person says stupid stuff
You're in the way...*Charges Power Maul*
- Pers...
Crack! Person doesn't even get to say one more word.

Reminds me of the Combine.


Teneal? Really?

I couldn't think of anything else. I might have her flagellated and get her 'reborn' as someone else if I can think of a better name. However, there's a better punishment for those who fail the Adeptus...

Yeah, Sam should feel bad. But, it's not entirely his fault.

[Thanatos 51-50]

Kind of like Archers in D&D with terrible Spot checks. Seriously though, if you're playing a Sniper with poor Perception and/or leaving Awareness untrained, or, better yet, not using Scopes, you deserve everything you don't get.
I'd just like to point out right now that there's a world of difference between Sniper and Designated Marksmen.
(For everything else, there's automatic fire)

[LCP]

Which route do you plan to go, btw?

Militant, for sure: I don't see Chaldia as much of a medic, and she'd be a terrible Dialogus, suspecting everyone she meets of being SECRET HERETICS.

If she survived long enough as a character, I'd be thinking about heading towards Sister Oblatia - but that would be a lot of XP for a PBP character, so that's very distant and hypothetical.

[Vikingkingq]

Due to the way the XP System in DH works, it's quite possible to work on 'everything' at the same time.

Well, it actually gets harder than one might think. I've been doing some advanced planning, and there's a balancing act between the things you can get and making sure you have the pre-reqs at the right time.



I've found them to be invaluable when some of the party can see stuff that the other half can't. The party can have spotters, etc. Or when you need to communicate over distances and yelling across the room doesn't cut it when enemies are about.


Absolutely. Just to give one example that stuck in my mind - LCP's "Suffer the Little Children" game (which was excellent, btw), but when they tried to infiltrate the hospital without them, team A couldn't really coordinate with team B.



I couldn't think of anything else. I might have her flagellated and get her 'reborn' as someone else if I can think of a better name. However, there's a better punishment for those who fail the Adeptus...

Yeah, Sam should feel bad. But, it's not entirely his fault.

Fair enough. Ready to move on though.

[Thanatos 51-50]

Absolutely. Just to give one example that stuck in my mind - LCP's "Suffer the Little Children" game (which was excellent, btw), but when they tried to infiltrate the hospital without them, team A couldn't really coordinate with team B.

And then, the shooting started. And there was my character's Bayonet of Doom and we were captured.
Good times.

[LCP]

And then, the shooting started.

In the maternity ward. :smallannoyed:

But yeah, I remember the bayonet. That was... messy.

[Thanatos 51-50]

Hey, had I not been mobbed, I was going to spend an action to take one of the expectant mothers hostage in an attempt to escape.
No, seriously. That was the plan. Take her hostage, point the pointy bit attached to the gun at her belly and demand to be set free. And to have Hieronymus set free.

And then stab the poor woman through the abdomen anyway after the coast is clear.

[LCP]

And then stab the poor woman through the abdomen anyway after the coast is clear.

:smalleek:

I... really don't know what to say.

I mean yes, they did all turn out to be bearing gribbly hybrid babies, but as far as I recall at that stage you had no way of knowing that. Then again, I guess Red is a bit of a psycho...

[Thanatos 51-50]

They were obviously all Heretics.
Heretics get killed, Red kills things.

And, yeah, he is a psychopath. There's really no way around that.

[Vikingkingq]

I was curious when everyone realized they were dealing with Genestealers, because the moment where Red says:


"Men and Women of the Imperium!" he proclaimed, shouting out over the crowd, "This creature is not of our kind. This creature desires nothing but your downfalls. Your deaths. Your pain. This creature is not a Man, it was never a Child of the Emperor. It is a mutant! An abomination! It is with Righteous Fury that we have cleansed these beasts, and it is as the Emperor's Hand that we will continue to defend you."

- absolutely convinced he's dealing with Chaos mutants and that the crowd will applaud him, made me actually laugh out loud knowing what was about to happen to him (and everyone else).

[Thanatos 51-50]

I realized we were dealing with Genestealers about the same time Red did - the moment we started running away from full Genestealers.
For the longest time, I was convinced it was Half-Eldar, Half-human hybrids.
I'm probably the person here least familiar with 40k, and am making up Eli's dialogue as I go along and looking over your shoulder and copying your notes while I'm doing it.

[Vikingkingq]

/pokety.

I'd like to get off the ship, please.

EDIT:

Any help you need in 40k background, I'm happy to give.

[The_Shaman]

Hi, I want to let you know I will be available only sporadically, and possibly not at all, from this Sunday to the next one. I am going on a vacation/training camp with some friends and I will probably not have any internet connection around.

[LCP]

Cheesegear, I feel compelled to ask... is this going to be the standard pace of updates for this game? And if so, how long is the adventure/campaign you have in mind?

[Cheesegear]

Cheesegear, I feel compelled to ask... is this going to be the standard pace of updates for this game?

Yeah. Pretty much. Three or four days of not very much. Then a couple of days of about five or six posts, then not much again. The problem is, I actually want to tell the story, and give you guys quality posts that describe everything I want you to look at. And I don't always have that kind of time.

However, I also note that only three members of the entire party has made any significant contribution, trying to further the story on their own without me. Which I have given enough cues for you to be able to do.


EDIT: Look, the newest IC update is utter crap. Or, at least I think it is. Partly because I didn't mention anything that you might want to look at, and/or have your own private goals with. I also really hate rail-roading you in this way. But, if that's what you want...

[Lycan 01]

If you want to run a slower paced game in exchange for a better story, I have no complaints. I'm still having fun, even if I have to be patient for updates. If you need an extra bit of time to get the wording perfect on an update, its fine. And the new update isn't bad, though I would have like at least a slight mentioning of how the other Ad-Mech folks reacted to Hiram, possibly bragging rights aside - I am genuinely curious about how they put up with the Sisters, or if they're just as hostile to outsiders. But, those are inconsequential details (or are they? :smallconfused:) in the long run, so if they must be left out of write ups in favor of keeping the plot focused and moving forward, that's alright by me.


In the end, I'm content to just go with the flow. But if you think taking it slow will make the game and story better, then please, by all means, do what you think is best for the game. :smallsmile:




Also, I'm almost tempted to actually argue with this guy, just because you said we couldn't. And sadly, I could see Hiram asking stupid questions. :smallsigh:

[Cheesegear]

And the new update isn't bad, though I would have like at least a slight mentioning of how the other Ad-Mech folks reacted to Hiram, possibly bragging rights aside - I am genuinely curious about how they put up with the Sisters, or if they're just as hostile to outsiders.

And I would have liked to have more scenes with Sam in the brig. Making personal (and potential party) contacts with other people in the Universe. Who knows if you'll see these Sisters again, and it might be helpful to see a friendly face once in a while.

But, I can't do that, since you guys actually want to continue the story. Or something.


But, those are inconsequential details (or are they? :smallconfused:) in the long run, so if they must be left out of write ups in favor of keeping the plot focused and moving forward

As I said once before, I will move at the pace that the players want to move at. If you guys want to stop and smell the roses, then I'll keep you in the garden. If you guys want to kill stuff dead, then, I can do that too. But, it'll get pretty boring without any role-playing.


In the end, I'm content to just go with the flow. But if you think taking it slow will make the game and story better, then please, by all means, do what you think is best for the game. :smallsmile:

I don't care about slow-ness. At all. I'm willing to play this same game for six months - more - if need be. I don't forsee any plans to quit the Playground in quite some time.

The problem is, if I keep separating party members, then I have more individual stories to write. I'm fine with that. What the problem is, is that other players aren't taking that opportunity to do their own thing (and reading the IC thread, I know exactly who is making the most posts). And, if people aren't doing anything, I don't have to write separate stories for them.

Over time, it will lead to party members getting more screen-time, so to speak. Not because I actually favour them or their character. But, because they're the ones actually doing things that I can respond to.

And, if I'm not responding to your character, or mentioning you somehow (even though I have no need to, because you're not doing anything), I can see how some players can feel left out.

[Vikingkingq]

Yeah. Pretty much. Three or four days of not very much. Then a couple of days of about five or six posts, then not much again. The problem is, I actually want to tell the story, and give you guys quality posts that describe everything I want you to look at. And I don't always have that kind of time.

However, I also note that only three members of the entire party has made any significant contribution, trying to further the story on their own without me. Which I have given enough cues for you to be able to do.

EDIT: Look, the newest IC update is utter crap. Or, at least I think it is. Partly because I didn't mention anything that you might want to look at, and/or have your own private goals with. I also really hate rail-roading you in this way. But, if that's what you want...

Slow pace is doable, especially if we can get a regular schedule going. Between this, the one I'm GMing, and Lycan's game, I think there should be enough happening to avoid getting bored.

The update is ok. A bit more description of the hive would be nice, but that's just window-dressing and you can fill that in when you have time. Given that we will all follow him, a bit of a hook or a debrief would be the next logical step - but again, when you have time.

Just curious whether the Sisters took Sam up on his offer to take the blame - that can be handled via PMs I think.

[Vikingkingq]

Also, we can always borrow a leaf out of LCP's book and do out-of-sequence RP bits in OOC or something to keep the main plot rolling along while still giving ppl a chance to RP.

[Lycan 01]

Perfectly understandable. I would have liked to see a bit more of Sam's antics and where the story with the Sister in the brig would go. But most of the team has been sitting around bored. We've likely worn down their patience quite a bit. XD


You could always go back and edit your latest update, mentioning anything important that may have transpired, such as Sam getting a stern talking to (or viscious beating, not much difference it seems) from one of the Sister Superiors. Nobody has posted yet, so you could probably sneak in a few details to make yourself more comfortable with the update itself if you'd like. :smalltongue:



You're gonna do your best to make me miserable in my game, aren't you? :smallamused:

[The_Shaman]

Can we presume Garvel or Sam had that sparring at some point, or would Sam try to avoid getting into another mess afterwards? BTW, I wanted to keep active, but I don't think my character would actually try to engage the sisters in any confrontation or do something else that would be offensive to them as hosts. Basically I had waited for him to observe something or get some more information on how they roll, what the ship is, etc.

One more thing, what kind of a planet is Verinside? Mechanically, I am concerned for the mental comfort of us hivers, but given that Garvel is not too familiar with worlds other than his own, I want to know more about how he'd react.

[LCP]

No worries – you’re the GM, I just wanted to get clear about the pace so as to know whether this was an uncharacteristically slow patch for one reason or another.

As for my lack of posting: your posts make it clear that maybe my expectations aren’t quite the same as your GMing style... I’d usually expect a PC’s options for where to go, and the NPCs they meet, to be solely defined by the GM, but it sounds like you’re expecting us to improvise a fair bit of our surroundings. That’s all fine by me, just so long as I know it’s expected of me.

As for the rest of what you said... well, if you want constructive criticism, I’m a serial PBP GM myself, so I’d be there in a shot; but I imagine you don’t. I’m happy to play the game as presented.

[Cheesegear]

Sorry guys. Super busy. Haven't updated in a while and I feel bad about it. I manage to write a post in the 40K-thread, and not much else. I'll see if I can do a few posts over the weekend. Should be able to.

[Lycan 01]

Its cool, I'm patient. Its not like you're just ignoring us. You can't help it if you're busy...

If you need to drop out of my game to free up more time for this game and the other stuff you're busy with, its cool. I sent you a PM, but you never responded, so I guess you missed it.

That, or you're a jerk who ignores PMs. Jerk. :smalltongue:

[Cheesegear]

Its cool, I'm patient. Its not like you're just ignoring us. You can't help it if you're busy...

Hey guys. Been pretty terrible at the moment. And here's why;

1. Starting a new 40K army. Takes time. Takes effort.
2. Starting a new WHFB army. Takes time. Takes effort.
3. There's been a slough of Magic: The Gathering events in my area.
4. I've been introduced into a brand-new IRL gaming group, and a new Pathfinder campaign to go with it.

Life-related;
4. Uni is back on. Given that I'm in 3rd year, stuff gets real hard, real fast. Unlike your first two semesters where nothing happens until mid-Semester exams/assessment. Honestly, I didn't think it'd be this hard.
5. Applying for a job is long, and arduous process. Especially if you need to get papers and training in order to do start.

Overall, Life > Hobby > Online Hobby. Scratch that.
Hobby > Life > Online Hobby...You know it's true. :smallwink:

Basically, I haven't updated in a week, and I also don't really think I can find the time to in the next few weeks either. So, you can end your stressing and intermittent PMs about when I'm going to update, because I probably wont anymore. :smallfrown:


That, or you're a jerk who ignores PMs. Jerk.

I think we can safely say that I regretfully have to bow out of your campaign. I'm a jerk.

[Lycan 01]

*pats Cheesegear on the shoulder*


Its okay, man. ou're not a jerk. You don't need to feel bad. You can't help it if life suddenly gets demanding. I personally don't fault you for anything. :smallsmile:


Will you be trying to pick the game back up in a month or so, or is it on pause indefinitely? And at least you're being honest, and not just dissappearing like some DMs/GMs do. -cough cough I've done it once cough cough-


I start my third year of college in two weeks, and will be looking for a job, so I'll probably feel your pain. :smalleek:

[The_Shaman]

Hey guys. Been pretty terrible at the moment. And here's why;

No problem, man. Good luck with everything, and drop a PM or two in case you decide to give it another try ;) .