(Dark Heresy) The Curious Case of The Fenksworld Vanishings

[Vikingkingq]

OOC Thread Here (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?t=162390)

The Curious Case of the Fenksworld Vanishings, Chapter I:

The stars turn above the sickly green orb of Fenksworld. Below, where the thick pollution-fogs and industrial vapors overcast the skies year-round, the teeming masses of humanity neither see nor do they mark their movements through the heavens. But the stars turn all the same, turn – and wait for the right moment.

All is stillness and silence in the void, and the song of the spheres. And yet, far below the range of hearing, a dissonant note appears – a soft keening that builds up through the octaves until it pierces the very fabric of reality. Existence tears, time is rendered whole, and the Imperial Destroyer Ultima Ratio surges forth into real-space.

http://img704.imageshack.us/img704/8373/1262416580490.jpg

And high among its battlements and crenellations, perched above the captain’s bridge, a stateroom’s lights burn brightly. You stand in the foyer, waiting in uncomfortable silence under the watchful gaze of Naval Commissariat Proctors. From inside the door, a single violin soars through the scherzo movement of Sidelsky’s masterwork, the “Dreams of Phobos” Symphony. On silent, velvet-clad feet, a butler emerges from inside and ushers you in, raising a silent finger to his lips.

You pass into a great circular library, with white marble pillars that reach twenty feet or more to a gilded dome. Between them on two levels, the walls are burnished oak and brass bookcases crammed with rich, hidebound tomes and filigreed dataslates. Suspensor fields hold aloft celestial globes and ancient navigation tools. And in the single great armorcrys bay window, the planet Fenksworld is framed.

On the balcony above you, the musician skips the bow across the strings as he builds to a crescendo and stops abruptly. The violin hangs from a long arm clad in understated, dark evening wear. Only a small tie-pin and a ring on the left hand bearing the barred-I testify to the fact that an Inquisitor stands above you. The man is skeletal-thin, with dark hair slicked back into a noble’s peak,and his pale face on its long neck is a thing of pure geometrical precision, the angles of his cheekbones and jaw blotting out all human softness. And above the great raptor nose, two impossibly-bright blue eyes seem to reach into your soul and tear out your darkest secrets.

“I am Inquisitor Wendyll Domus Atreus, and as of this moment, I own your bodies and souls alike.” The sinister hand stretches out with the bow held like a poniard to stab at the planet.

“Before you is Fenksworld. A scabby, shabby second-rate hive planet. The Administratum informs me that production has decreased by 10% over the last two years. A series of industrial accidents and kidnappings – and thus stoppages, delays, bottlenecks, and lost man-hours into the millions per annum. Perhaps it is nothing – violence and accident, even industrial espionage and corporate warfare are hardly unknown on Fenksworld – but perhaps it is everything.

“These disruptions have become all too common, and not merely in this Subsector. The industrial heart of Calixis has caught an ague. I have investigated elsewhere, but an open presence brings only a temporary recovery. So I turn to you, my...Irregulars. You are not, officially, agents of the Inquisition; you will not bear the Rosette.

“I have made…arrangements for you to be deputized as members of the Adeptus Arbites Tithe Investigations Division, Unit 13. No such unit exists, but it will give sufficient cover and authority both. The locals are expecting the Arbites to respond to the decline in Tithing, so your introduction should cause little surprise. You will rendezvous with the Arbites headquarters in Nova Castillia for a full debrief.

“Gentlemen. Fenskworld may be a second-rate Hive World. But it is one that Battlefleet Calixis relies upon. If Fenksworld is weak, then the Imperial Navy is weak. And I will not tolerate that.

"Any questions?”

[Raynn]

Magnus kneels extending is arms outwards in a sign of respect, staring only at the floor, not meeting the Inquisitor's gaze.


"My liege, Master Atreus, I humbly swear my allegience," he bows his garbed head as much as he can "But I must ask, in your investigations did anything link these events to those on other worlds?"

Magnus Hertirrus speaks with a tone of absolute and unwavering respect for this man, waiting for an allowance to rise back to his feet.

[Vikingkingq]

Magnus kneels extending is arms outwards in a sign of respect, staring only at the floor, not meeting the Inquisitor's gaze.


"My liege, Master Atreus, I humbly swear my allegience," he bows his garbed head as much as he can "But I must ask, in your investigations did anything link these events to those on other worlds?"

Magnus Hertirrus speaks with a tone of absolute and unwavering respect for this man, waiting for an allowance to rise back to his feet.

Atreus raises a languid eyebrow. "As I said, open investigations brought only a temporary abeyance of production declines. There are other teams on other planets - your task is Fenksworld.

Bring me data, data, data. I cannot make bricks without clay."

[Raynn]

Realising his question may have annoyed his new master Hertirrus' tone became subservient


"Your will will be done my Master."

Slowly he rises from the floor and pulls the Emperor's Tarot from within his garbs, he begins to shuffle the deck with great skill, a old trick he learned on Terra to calm himself.

[Limos]

"Oh no no no, can't have slippage in the production. Sloppy, very sloppy." Nihilus mutters, his words muffled by the grating buzz of his aged respirator, "But also good! Chance to prove myself, can make improvements to system! More efficient, cut out the rot, replace with better, yes yes much better." The stooped techpriest fiddles with his robes and pulls out his trusty data slate and begins a rapid research on Fenksworld.

"Ah, such a miserable hive of scum of inefficiency this Fenksworld is." Nihilus sighs, "Much to do, very busy."

"Oh right..." Nihilus suddenly stops and looks from his Data slate to the Inquisitor, "Will get right on that sir. Can count on me." He sketches an awkward salute as best he can with his hunched back.

[Daisuke1133]

Grendel kneels to the floor in a similar manner to Magnus and keeping his head bowed towards the floor, he responds while taking care to give every ounce of deference and respect due to his lord, "M'lord, you can rest assured that I will not stop until I am either successful or dead. But I am very concerned about bureaucratic resistance from officials attempting to appear unassociated with any foul play in connected to these events."

[Raynn]

Hertirrus turns to to Nihilus "Would you agree it would be inefficient to remain here any longer? We should depart and begin our work immediately, most holy clergy of Mars."

As he speaks he makes the sign of the Aquila to the Tech-Priest as a sign of respect, he then turns to Grendel "You may have a point Sir, and what may I ask is your name sir?"

[Limos]

"Yes yes, time wasting and all that." Nihilus says curtly, "Still waiting on input from others? What say you on this?"

[Daisuke1133]

Grendel turns his head towards Hertirrus and replies, "Among my people I am known as Grendel. I would wish to know who I am to work with as well."

[Raynn]

Magnus stows his deck and bows his head slightly towards Grendel "I am Sanctionite Magnus Hertirrus," he turns to the Tech Priest who had spoke "And you are known as what Priest of Mars?"

[Limos]

"Hm? I am Nihilus, Technographer." He nods to the others, his iron faceplate with it's painted smile makes a grinding noise as he tries to bend his neck. "Sure will be nice working with you."

[Raynn]

Hertirrus smiled beneath his robes, only his grey, crimson rimmed eyes showing through his many layers "I am happy to hear you say such words, I look forward to the experience also."

He speaks to the group as a whole "Must we continue our parley or may we depart? Any further inquiries?"

[Vikingkingq]

The Inquisitor's face takes on an expression of pained annoyance for a second. "My time is valuable, and introductions can be done outside of my presence. As far as actual questions go-" his gaze focuses on Grendel with a sudden and alarming intensity. "Your cover is that of Adeptes Arbites. If you cannot make use of that authority, you don't belong here."


Unless anyone wants to ask the Inquisitor any more questions, which we can do in the OOC thread, I'll move the scene on.

[Raynn]

I vote move on please:smallsmile:

[Daisuke1133]

Grendel bows his head even lower and says, "Yes M'lord, I shall depart at once."

Grendel rises and gives a final bow to the Inquisitor before quickly leaving the room lest he incur the full wrath of the Inquisitor.

[Raynn]

Hertirrus kneels momentarily "Yes my Master, you will will be done," he respectfully stares at the ground.

When he rises he departs and follows Grendel immediately.

[Limos]

Nihilus bobs his head in a half bow and turns to leave with the others, "Much to do, so little time."

"By your leave Lord." He says just before leaving the room.

[Vikingkingq]

Fenksworld, Planet-Side, Nova Castillia:

After a punishingly steep shuttle-dive to Star-Port Castillia, you emerge on dry land for the first time in a fortnight. Night has fallen, the air is wet with chemically-tainted rain, and to the east, the massive spires of Hiva Nova Castillia rise through the clouds, to where the richest nobility frolic in the luxury of natural sunlight. Lesser notables must make do with void shields to keep off the rain and artificial solariums and weather generators.

http://www.scene-stealers.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/06/blade-runner-los-angeles-752153.jpg

An Arbites grav-wagon idles on the edge of your landing pad, where a bored-looking officer leans against the side of the grav with the rain bouncing off his helmet. "Assuming you lot are the Investigative team, get the frak inside before we all drown." The wagon's designed to carry a full platoon of Shock Troopers - or twice that number of prisoners - so the six of you and your luggage manage to fit inside with relative comfort. The driver shows you how to strap in, and the wagon lifts from the ground and speeds off towards the Spire of Justice in the Adeptes Section.

http://www.seanax.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/04/bladerunner.jpg

Once inside, the trooper yanks off his dripping helmet and brushes the water out of his thinning hair and talks distractedly as he weaves his way through sky-lanes crowded with mass haulers, commercial shuttles, air-taxis and the occasional jet-speeder. "Anyway, welcome to Hive Castillia. This here's about the closest thing to civilization you get here on Fenksworld, so don't worry, it's all down-hill from here. The Marshall's waiting back at Precinct, so you should get debriefed and on your way soon as can be arranged." The Spire of Justice looms before you, a black pillar amidst the throbbing lights.

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

Your luggage is dropped off in an evidence locked, and you are escorted into an office dominated by a long nalwood table stacked high with papers. Two people are sitting at the table, an older grey-haired man with the biggest build you've ever seen on a non-Astartes in uniform carapace with a wreathed-fist insignia on his service stripe, and a younger, greasy-looking man in tattered leathers.

The trooper who brought you in throws a quick salute at the bigger man sitting across the table, who looks up with a sour expression and dismisses him. He looks up at you, looks at the chairs and sighs. "You must be the extra manpower that the pencil-pushers over in Tithe sent me. Was sort of hoping for more." He stands up and leans two hands the size of hams on the table. "So, I understand you need to be briefed."

[Raynn]

Hertirrus nods with respect to the man and extends his hand to be shaken "I am Investigator Arbites Magnus Hertirrus and these are my associates, you are, sir? And yes we are to be briefed on all the files and data you have concerning the decrease in production and any associated incidents."

If the man asks why he is covered head to toe he has a response prepared.

[Vikingkingq]

The big man gives you a look, and taps the wreathed fist on his service stripe. "That's Marshall Dossantos to you. I don't know how you do it where you come from, but here in Nova Castillia you salute a superior officer, Investigator Hertirrus."

"Edzibsky, they're all yours. Administratum might be whining about a 10% decline in production, but I've got a 17% increase in ganger violence and the same number of officers I had yesterday. Oh wait, I forgot Dozerman. One less officer than I had yesterday." The Marshall storms out of the room in what appears to be a habitual foul temper.

Edzibsky, the young man in leathers, reaches over to shake Hertirrus's hand. As he leans over, you can see the Arbites badge on a chain around his neck. "Edzibsky, Proctor in Plainclothes Division. Sorry about that. We had a pretty big anti-crim 10-34 last night, and a Molotov cooked one officer. Anyway," he gestures to the massive piles of files.

"This is the case. We've had a half-dozen or so major industrial accidents in the last 20 months, different sites across the planet-" he fires up a projector that displays what look like bombed out factories onto one wall of the conference room. "At first, we thought recidivists, mebbe corporate rivals, but the recidivists don't have the resources for something of this scale, and the cases are too spread-out to come from a rivalry. You can look through the paperwork, but we didn't find a pattern either in the factorium owners or sub-leasers or customers."

The projector flashes instead to a graph. "And this is the other half of the case. See, in every factory that gets hit, we're seeing a pattern of missing persons reports, mebbe twenty-thirty percent higher than average, and given the kind of damage we're seeing in these accidents, the scenes don't turn up enough bodies."

[Limos]

"Conversion maybe? Raw materials for combat servitors if Heretek cell. Biomass for Genestealer cult. Perhaps Khornate blood sacrifices." Nihilus says hopefully, "Of course could be less interesting, slave trade maybe?

"Officer Edzibsky, any suspects or gangers we should be looking for? Nihilus gives the Marshall a belated salute and turns to Edzibsky.

[Raynn]

Hertirrus leafs through a file for a moment "Hmmm. . ."

He taps his chin momentarily, thinking out loud, as was his habit "Bodies, bodies, assume a common link, a basic law, connection, fundamental principals, what links these cases? We thought motive came from the result but we are looking at the wrong portion of the result. . . I believe we are considering only the side effect of the intended action. . . "

Hertirrus rubs his chin and points to the projected slide "What links these crimes? Missing persons? NO. Not unless people survived the explosions, no what links these crimes are corpses, MISSING corpses. Which implies whoever did this, needed or wanted corpses. . . Servitors, which implies they need manual labor for something. . . sacrifices? Doubtful but possible if they only took survivors of the explosion. . . ."

Hertirrus motioned to Edzibsky "How likely is that someone could survive this explosion? That ONLY the survivors had been taken and the corpses left?"

He turned back to Nihilus "By any chance can you examine the corpses in the Morgue and see if the explosion could ever left corpses salvagable enough for use as servitor components. If either or both of these theories are wrong we should prove them so as fast as possible, both imply dangerous outcomes if left unchecked."

[Vikingkingq]

"Conversion maybe? Raw materials for combat servitors if Heretek cell. Biomass for Genestealer cult. Perhaps Khornate blood sacrifices." Nihilus says hopefully, "Of course could be less interesting, slave trade maybe?

"Officer Edzibsky, any suspects or gangers we should be looking for? Nihilus gives the Marshall a belated salute and turns to Edzibsky.

Edzibsky snorts a bit at the Genestealer and Khornate references. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves here. You hear hoofbeats, you think equines - not crystal space zebras. Slavers, could be in some of these after-hours missing persons, but it's rare to see craftsfolk get snatched - too many questions, too many powerful interests get involved. And these are some serious numbers we're talking about - over the last 20 months, we're talking almost a thousand missing persons from the street reports, and another thousand almost if we assume that the nonconfirmed from the accidents weren't just turned into small piles of ash."



Hertirrus leafs through a file for a moment "Hmmm. . ."

He taps his chin momentarily, thinking out loud, as was his habit "Bodies, bodies, assume a common link, a basic law, connection, fundamental principals, what links these cases? We thought motive came from the result but we are looking at the wrong portion of the result. . . I believe we are considering only the side effect of the intended action. . . "

Hertirrus rubs his chin and points to the projected slide "What links these crimes? Missing persons? NO. Not unless people survived the explosions, no what links these crimes are corpses, MISSING corpses. Which implies whoever did this, needed or wanted corpses. . . Servitors, which implies they need manual labor for something. . . sacrifices? Doubtful but possible if they only took survivors of the explosion. . . ."

Hertirrus motioned to Edzibsky "How likely is that someone could survive this explosion? That ONLY the survivors had been taken and the corpses left?"

He turned back to Nihilus "By any chance can you examine the corpses in the Morgue and see if the explosion could ever left corpses salvagable enough for use as servitor components. If either or both of these theories are wrong we should prove them so as fast as possible, both imply dangerous outcomes if left unchecked."

Edzibsky shrugs. "Look, the missing persons cases all happen in the same neighborhoods as the accidents at about the same time, then quiet down after each of the accidents. That looks like a pattern to me."

"Now, as for servitors, I gotta think that this would be a lot of extra risk when you can get living bodies for a lot less - that's what didn't make sense when we gave it a shake. Maybe, maybe if you were trying to make some high-end servitors with some built-in skills, but we checked that market and supply is steady."

He then gives a slightly shamefaced look. "Corpses might be a problem. See, a good half of these incidents are prior year, and we don't keep bodies that long for what at the time were considered to be accidental deaths - and we didn't find that many bodies to begin with. 'Sides, most of these would be in local Precincts, not here at Planetary HQ. You looking for bodies, our best bet is to check the last accident-" he hunts through the files for a moment. "Month ago, over in Magnagorsk. This one's weird too. Lights go off across an entire Factorium District, explosion levels the place - and damn near the entire workforce is missing. 400 bodies gone - not a scrap of tissue left. Afterwards, they tell me that there's a whole rash of suicides - not in the hab blocks, but around the site." Edzisbsky leans back in his chair, spreads his hands and widens his eyes.

[Raynn]

Hertirrus nods as Edzibsky speaks "Suicide. . . suicide, causal link? Bodies missing? Skilled workers? Either they need labour for some sort of device, vehicle, creation or they are selecting their targets poorly, implies only a basic connection required, possibly for sacrifice but there are easier methods than falsifying terrorist attacks on populated areas."

He turns back to Nihilus "There must be a location from which the power was deactivated, either by sabotage or simply switched off, maybe you could seek out answers there as your formidable skills would be best applied there, but only if you wish," Hertirrus had great respect for the priest, seeing him as pure and holy, and did wish to appear like he thought he was his equal.

He turned back to Edzibsky "was it only the lights that were deactivated? Or did they lose power entirely? Can you give my associate the location of where someone could or did do this?"

He looks over his shoulder at Grendel and nods solemnly "I believe we should go search the site of the explosion for any clues, if you would do me the honour of accompanying me?" He again didn't want to seem like he was forcing the issue.

The again he thought out loud "but still, suicide? On a notable scale, what does that imply? Either mental imbalance or grief? Hundreds dead or missing, possibly simply grief? Unlikely, bad feeling about this, possible linchpin in the case. Mental manipulation? Possible, unlikely but fits. . . Hmmm. . . Psychic or warp taint on a wide enough scale? Unlikely but again possible, Psykers would find it easier to kill than cause them to commit suicide. Chemical toxin causing mental imbalance? Possible connection, could be a cover up but again unlikely. . . Hmmm. . . We should check out these areas if we are going to find any more clues."

He turns to the group again "Or you can disregard all I said, I apologise for any rudeness, it was unintential, Noble Grendel and Wise Nihilus," he bows his head momentarily in respect.

[Daisuke1133]

He looks over his shoulder at Grendel and nods solemnly "I believe we should go search the site of the explosion for any clues, if you would do me the honour of accompanying me?" He again didn't want to seem like he was forcing the issue.

Grendel nods to Hertirrus and replies, "Of course. We may be able to ascertain more about the explosion by examining the scene and what remains of the device."

[Raynn]

Hertirrus smiles at Grendel, hidden beneath his garbs, "Then it settled, Edzibsky, could you arrange transport for Investigator Grendel and I?"

[Limos]

"Also require transport. Wish to examine machinery that lost power," Nihilus chips in, "possibly determine method of sabotage and narrow down list of possible suspects."

"Hum, any connection to the products that the factorium was producing? Chemical contaminants with a mind altering effect may be cause of suicides." Nihilus paces slowly, limping his way around the room, "Officer Edzibsky, what were the primary products of the factorium?"

[Raynn]

Magnus speaks up "That is what I thought possibly, a connection between the suicides but the incidents are too widespread for the same product to be produced in all locations meaning that if a chemical produced by the plant leaked due to the explosion to the general populace causing them to commit suicide then it was a coincidence and the suicides are not directly relevant to the cause of the attacks, and I don't like coincidences, but still a good point, least likely connection to solve case but most likely connection compared to others. Not sure whether it being true or not will more hinder or benefit the investigation, still a wise question Honoured Nihilus."

[Vikingkingq]

Edzibsky consults his files. "One bulk steel foundry, one generatorium, a couple of machinist shops, and the most recent one is a shipyard. Which is more or less what you get on Fenksworld - heavy industry, with a strong emphasis on shipbuilding. What was that? No, it was a district-wide power outage, 'bout 10-15 minutes in duration according to this report.

As for transportation, I can arrange a shuttle for the six of you in the morning. Magnagorsk is a three-hour flight anyway. Two hours over to the equatorial regions, and then one hour down."


This is an opportunity for the six of you to procure any supplies you want before heading out to the gritty volcanic hive of Magnagorsk.

[Raynn]

Hertirrus searches for occult texts and literature that could either give him a clue to these events or teach him more about the warp and his powers in general.
Sholastic Lore (Occult) (Int) 35 [roll0]

[Raynn]

After Hertirrus' failed attempts at precuring occult texts he did little more than wander the forgotten rain slick streets, waiting for the morning. Eventually, and merely because he did not wish his new compatriots to think him dead, he returned to where they were staying till they could get transportation to Magnagorsk in the morning. He sat at a table and lay the Emperor's Tarot out on it.

He shuffled and spread, reshuffled and spread, reading always from the cards little more than he would allow himself, till eventually he was too tired to continue, he stowed the deck again and went to sleep hoping he would have better luck in the investigation tomorrow.

The din of rainwater reminded him of the city lows where he grew up, where he once flew, where the metal hadn't shined in a millenia, where only darkness knew his name, part of him missed that dirty old world, part of him missed Terra, part of him missed people he could no longer remember.

He slept, and had bad dreams.

Just something to pass the time before we continue:smalltongue:

[Limos]

"Officer Edzibsky, require Auspex for search." Nihilus says cautiously, "Will greatly facilitate investigation. Can send someone to fetch one?" He walks quickly toward the transport and snags a messenger on the way to procure equipment. He rapidly fills out the sign out authorizations on his data slate.

"Thanks for assistance, Officer." Nihilus says cheerfully as he settles down to wait for departure.

[Daisuke1133]

Grendel enters the Requisitions Office and fills out the dataslate offered by the resident quartermaster. When he is finished he hands the dataslate back to the quartermaster and says, "I am Officer Grendel, I require the use of an Autogun, a Combat Shotgun, and 4 clips of ammunition for each." He waits for the requested equipment before returning to his fellows.

[Vikingkingq]

Grendel enters the Requisitions Office and fills out the dataslate offered by the resident quartermaster. When he is finished he hands the dataslate back to the quartermaster and says, "I am Officer Grendel, I require the use of an Autogun, a Combat Shotgun, and 4 clips of ammunition for each." He waits for the requested equipment before returning to his fellows.

After being re-routed to the Armory to fill out a Additional Firearms Request form, completing a required range and weapons safety demonstration, and then bringing your stamped AFR and Range and Safety Certification forms back to the Requisitions Office, you are awarded an equipment chitty which the Armory accepts and puts two matt-black carrying cases on the desk. "Here you go," the officer says with a smile. "You got through the red tape pretty quickly! Good hunting, man."

[Vikingkingq]

The Curious Case of the Fenksworld Vanishings, Chapter 2:
In which our heroes visit the forbidding subterranean hive of Magnagorsk, explore the wreckage of DeVaunt-Malloy Shipyards and the slightly-less wrecked environs of Manufactorium District Delta-9, and encounter all manner of unpleasant bulky men who carry firearms.

At 0600 hours the next morning, Edzibsky shows up outside the temporary residence you were assigned to (normally used to house witnesses prior to trial), struggling with the awkward burden of a massive carton of recaf, a box of ploin pastries, and his own luggage.

After a hurried breakfast in the grav-car, you are packed into an Arbites "planet-hopper," a fast sub-orbital shuttle that takes you in a stomach-churning parabola up into the strato-sphere and careening back to earth. The non-Fenksian among you must stifle a scream as the planet-hopper does not stop as you near the surface, but rather shoots straight into the ground through the largest man-made hole you've ever seen.

The shuttle slows and levels out as you continue to sink into the depths of the earth, and below you, you can see a dull red glow that gradually brightens into the furious white-hot glow of Magnagorsk Hive.

http://f.imagehost.org/0277/136527_Under-Construction-Blast-Furnace-at-Magnitogorsk-Metallurgical-Industrial-Complex-Poster.jpghttp://i901.photobucket.com/albums/ac214/razerback/More%20pics/20091020luguang16_02.jpg

You emerge from the shuttle, legs a bit unsteady into a ferocious baking heat that assaults you from all sides as thousands of foundries belch their ash-laden exhaust into the already-choked air. Edzibsky hands the new-comers paper face-masks, but seems immune to the toxic slurry that is breathed every day by the 300,000,000 residents of Magnagorsk - or more precisely, the 300,000,000 workers of the Foundries.

An hour of confused winding through anonymous industrial arteria and hopelessly-winding alleys brings you to the fire-blackened gates of "De-Vaunt Malloy Shipyards: Bespoke Star and Aerial Craft, By Appointment to The Most Mighty and Puissant Imperial Navy Since M36." A clark in once-fine robes meets you outside the factory with a hangdog expression.

"...you must be the Arbites inspection team. come right this way..."

You step through the gates - still bearing the yellow-and-black tape of warning - into one of the longest structures you've ever been in, more than 5 kloms in length and a klom in width, according to the droning clark - unsurprisingly, the Shipyards is big enough to fit a Lunar-Class Cruiser inside. Save for a few shadowy, rusted hulks off in the distance, the factorium is achingly, somehow terrifyingly vacant of human life.

Instead, long stretches of ruined machinery litter the factorium floor, left where they fell.

http://www.corbisimages.com/images/67/D9ACD4B0-6B33-467B-9CD1-F7B5E3A473AA/HU060276.jpghttp://www.amrichardfineart.com/img/garn_page/turbine-1-lg.jpg

"And here we are," exhales Edzibsky, who lets his streetwise attitude slip into an awed quietude in the cavernous gloom. "So, you're the investigations team. How do you want to play it?

"I called ahead so that Jenkins would round up De-Vaunt Malloy's remaining workforce and what paperwork survived the explosion, over there-" he points to a large shed on one wall of the building. "It'll take some time to look through all of this wrecked machinery, and there's the damage from the explosion. Who wants to take what?"


You'll want to split up the task of investigating such a large structure. We'll do the rolls in OOC - there are lots of applicable skills you can use, and you can assist one another to boost raw stats if you are using untrained skills to give yourself a chance - and then you can post your searching and the results here.

Darth Raynn, give me a Psyniscience and a WP check in OOC

[Raynn]

Hertirrus sways for a moment, coming down to his knees, he clutches the Emperors tarot to himself for a moment before rising to his feet again. He draws his pistol instantly

"Grendel, Nihilus, Something happened here, Chaos, forbidden, No death, I can't get a better bead on it but I'm working on it, something happened near the fire exit, back me up, as a precaution."

His weapon readied Hertirrus rushes over to the fire escape, as he approaches he focuses his senses to the warp energies he sensed earlier trying to hone in on whatever he is picking up on.

Another Psyniscience check: [roll0]
Edit: Dice gods why have you forsake the hell bound mutant psychic freak! Why!? :smalltongue::smallfrown:

[Daisuke1133]

Grendel follows closely behind Hertirrus with his Autogun readied.

"I'm right behind you Hertirrus."

[Vikingkingq]

Grendel follows closely behind Hertirrus with his Autogun readied.

"I'm right behind you Hertirrus."

You follow Hertirrus towards what looks like to you a completely ordinary door.
As he nears the fire exit, he lets loose a hideous rattling gasp and collapses to the ground, pistol skittering across the floor.

[Gorgondantess]

Arel suddenly makes himself known. It's obvious he's been with you all along, but has simply been looked over. Odd, really, as he's certainly not inconspicuous: well over two metres tall (the product of development in a near zero-grav environment), a startling shock of pale hair and pallid skin make him an obvious figure, his billowing, too large archivist robes only adding to this. Still, since the beginning, he's been a nonentity- you've never heard him say a word. Though it seems now he has something to say.
Arel strides over to the techpriest with his too-long legs, and lays a light hand on his stooped shoulder. He speaks with a low voice, calm, almost a whisper: "Master Technographer... an observation, if I may: no doubt you've noticed this, but the machinery here shows no outward signs of malfunction- none of the warping or unbonding of overheating, or mechanical rupture, beyond the normal wear of course. Beyond this, the generatorium has no indicators of internal failure or critical stressors whatsoever... certainly not overheating or a mechanical failure, as far as I'm concerned. Make of this what you will."

This done, he appraoches Edzibsky. "I'll need to look over whatever documents related to the incident you can procure."

[Limos]

"Have already learned that!" Nihilus snarls defensively, his words dripping with malice, "Leave matters of Machine Spirits to the Admech and go back to your paperwork and rubber stamps."

The auspex in his hand convulses and sparks as he loses his focus. "Distraction has ruined scan! Begone pest!"

Nihilus is filled with shame at his repeated technical failures.

[Gorgondantess]

Arel is startled by the sudden outburst, drawing his head back, eyes wide. Composing himself, he steeples his fingers, and nods. "Very well then: I shall keep any further findings to myself."

[Daisuke1133]

You follow Hertirrus towards what looks like to you a completely ordinary door.
As he nears the fire exit, he lets loose a hideous rattling gasp and collapses to the ground, pistol skittering across the floor.

Grendel's eyes widen as he recognizes the same kind of behavior exhibited by psykers who have been possessed on the battlefield. He grabs Hertirrus by the shoulders and says, "Feth! Damnit Hertirrus, don't you dare snap on us now!"

[Vikingkingq]

Grendel's eyes widen as he recognizes the same kind of behavior exhibited by psykers who have been possessed on the battlefield. He grabs Hertirrus by the shoulders and says, "Feth! Damnit Hertirrus, don't you dare snap on us now!"

Responding to Grendel's shaking, Herritus starts awake with a hoarse yell, clearly shaking with barely-repressed shock.


Grendel, take a Perception check.
Herritus, you may now act. Take a Perception and Scholastic Lore(Occult) check.

Seyathee feth?

[Gorgondantess]

Arel continues with his previous plan of action, looking over the documents related to the incidents.

[Limos]

"Impossible. Machine says there was no power loss." Nihilus says in frustration, "Know that whole quarter lost power during abduction, but logs say there was no power loss. Nothing is broken. This is not technological. Something else did this."

[Vikingkingq]

Arel continues with his previous plan of action, looking over the documents related to the incidents.

You make your way over to a large shed along one wall of the building, following Edzibsky. Inside, you see a crowd of about a hundred or so workers - mostly older men in coveralls - and a table in one corner piled high with parchment, dataslates, and cogitators. You sigh inwardly at the amount of data you'll have to compile and check against the satchel of files from the investigation, but "Hard Work Conquers Everything" as the Administratum teaches.

As you fumble through the files, you can hear Edzisbky questioning the workers in an increasingly leaden tone.

"...So, none of you were actually on site at the time of the accident?"

The group's spokesman, an ex-foreman by the name of Enoch, nods. "Like we wuzz tellin' you, sir. The...accident happened right in the middle of Swing Shift. Most of us old-timers works-worked Day Shift, on account of it being 'arder to rivet bloody great sheets of adamantium plating onto the 'ull at night when you're ready to kip out at three in the afternoon."

Edzibsky sighs. "So just the Swing Shift was involved, and no one made it out?"

"Not that we ever 'eard of. Swing Shift was the bad shift, sir, nothing but late nights, more accidents on account of people being tired and the lights not working as well. Had to fill up the vacancies with extra hands, and them boys weren't locals. Not part of the community, you see? Day Shift and Evening Shift were alright, but Mr. De-Vaunt, Mr. Malloy and most of the management-" he makes to spit, but thinks better of it. "were there, and they didn't come back."

Edzibsky makes a note of that, and despairing of actually finding any eyeball witnesses, tries to poke around for some background detail. "Do you know if De-Vaunt or Malloy had any enemies, someone who might want to hurt them? Had anything happened like this before? Any other attacks you might heard of?"

At this, the crowd perks up and begins to gossip with fervor.

A fat man at the back pipes up: "Could have been those bastards in Local 1514 - they were always ruttin' trouble, stealing shipments, sending their bully boys to beat on De-Vaunt Malloy lads who walked down the wrong street or drank in the wrong bar, all kinds of trouble."

A mustachioed man lighting up a dog-ear scoffs. "Guild boys might bank on a fool or steal you blind, maybe smash up some machinery if they were pissed off, but bombing a factory? Not without a registered Guild Feud, and we ain't done nothin' to deserve that. I reckon it was the gangers, trying to rip off the payroll. Them is gettin' worse and worse. I hear last Thursday, the Ironskins shot up a pict-house just for the hell of it!"

Edzibsky starts scribbling madly. It might be rumor and hearsay, but only a stupid Arbites ignores the word on the street - and it's better than nothing.

[Daisuke1133]

Grendel finally notices the splotches and examines the building more closely.

Of course! That's what's so strange about these so-called explosions.

"These detonations were not the result of explosives. Something very different is at work here."

[Raynn]

Hertirrus rises as he fiddles with a deck of the Emperor's Tarot to calm himself.

"Thank you Grendel, and you're right, something chaotic occured here, we can rule out death and explosives; there is a darkness here, from where it is not clear, but what troubles me is near, as are the forces that we fear."

Hertirrus still seems a little out of it as he speaks.

[Raynn]

Hertirrus moves towards the doors, his hand out stretched but not quite touching the runes he sees lining the exit.

"Team, I have found something, ruins, sigils, dark signs, there was a ritual here, a terribly powerful one, but no death, the blast was no explosive, it was darkness, evil."

He turns and raises his fist to the group, raising a finger as he number each point "One, no explosives, this almost eliminates the involvement of rival guilds and normal factions, two no death, no bodies, they wanted people, alive, either for sacrifice or service, meaning they're planning something, that this isn't the end, three, there was a ritual here that did this, or some chaotic force, there was darkness here beyond the mere rivally of men, evil, four, we need to know whether the energy loss was a side effect or intentional and why?"

[Daisuke1133]

Grendel yells back to the rest of the group, "Nihilus, I found something you need to see. This "explosion" was meant to conceal evidence of weapons damage, but it's not from any weapon I recognize."

[Limos]

"Indeed, all machinery is still functional." Nihilus muses, "Damage is superficial."

The stooped tech priest stows his Auspex and limps his way back to the others. "Recommendation, interrogate DeVayne corporation. May have information on causes or methods of attack. Common thread between attacks. Gangers seem unlikely to have resources for operation like this. Ignore for now." He turns to Edzibsky, "Can arrange audience with DeVayne executives?"

[Vikingkingq]

After several hours of exhaustive investigation, the group gathers in the center of the factorium to share their findings.

Edzibsky shakes his head. "Not without a formal summons, and we don't have enough evidence for that. DeVayne is about as big as you get in this Sector, and their Legal Department are a bunch of sharks - have to be, the number of extradition procedures they go through to grab their runaways. But there should be a local branch office in Magnagorsk, given how valuable labor is in this hive; you could try your luck there."

At the same time, he frowns and thumbs through his notebook. "But we've got a lot of leads here, and it makes more sense to split up into teams and run them all down instead of a big group like this clomping around - might be a bit conspicuous. I think we ought to take a look at this labor guild - even if it's a long shot, it wouldn't be impossible for them to hire mercenaries or psykers for that matter - and take a look at the underhive to check out the ganger situation. At the very least, there's bound to be some gossip - nothing goes completely unnoticed in a hive."

[Vikingkingq]

Seghar and Ezdibsky at Local 1514:

http://foundsf.org/images/e/e5/Ilwu2$hiring-hall.jpghttp://cache2.asset-cache.net/xc/50569328.jpg?v=1&c=IWSAsset&k=2&d=E41C9FE5C4AA0A14014F1A47E0B7137B1738F95B2E4DBADA 6BD2C83FC60AF3DDB01E70F2B3269972

A few blocks over in District Delta-9, you come across the offices of Local 1514 of the United Riveters, Welders, and Bulk-Metal Workers' Labor Guild, built out of an repurposed cargo bay.

To your right, the building is reasonably full of people in long lines to pick up their work assignments, pay their tithe, deal with guild medicae or pension services, and the like, but from the size of the building, it's obvious that it's built to hold well over five times the number of people in the lines. Directly across from you, a third of the structure is set aside for a canteen, one end of the building there's a podium and long rows of benches tucked into one corner, and what looks like a cross between an office and a bar.

The ash-blackened workers, hard looking men in worn coveralls and safety equipment, regard you with a hard stare - marking you instantly as outsiders. Ezdibsky leads you past the lines towards the office/bar at the back, where a small group of men - half of them workers in their 50s in work clothes and half of them bulky youngsters in black leather - are clustered around a desk. Leaning against that desk and clearly the center of attention is a big man, broad-shouldered and wide-hipped, whose beer-gut is belied by massive, heavily-muscled arms and thick shoulders. Balding on top with a curly fringe around the sides of his head, and a heavy growth of stubble half-way to a bear, he vaguely resembles a shaved bear.

He narrows his eyes as he sees you near the desk. "You lost or something?"

Edzibsky flashes the badge. "You in charge here?" The man's rough smile falls into an expression of careful blankness.

"Abe Toborsky, President of Local 1514. Hell yeah, I'm charge. Can you help you with something, officer?"


Darth and Limos in the Underhive

http://cache2.allpostersimages.com/LRG/20/2098/BHR2D00Z.jpg

The Underhive of Magnagorsk is about as close to Hell as you can get and still be alive. Down in the crust of the earth, below the heat absorption machinery that makes Magnagorsk habitable (and which provides 53.343% of the Hive's power), the heat is unbearable, pouring off the rock face itself where the underhive perches. This far, there is no natural light, not even from the central Hole where the Hive imports food, drink, and other supplies and exports its heavy machinery, only the harsh and flickering artificial lights from uncountable dwellings.

Oddly, the normal crush of the population seems lesser here. The people move through the alleyways in a darting almost-run, and the faces of the passersby are taut and tense. You see few loners and many people clumped up in groups, especially the bulked-out, neon-tatted young men and dayglo-haired young women you immediately identify as gangers.

As you wander through the alleyways, you hear frequent bursts of gunfires and step over quite a few fresh corpses. After an hour or so of walking, you wind up in Korova's, a local bar that Edzibsky suggested as a well-known ganger hideout. You enter to find a raffish, black-lit affair filled with suspicious-looking characters packing way too much hardware for your piece of mind.


Grendel and Arel at the Offices of DeVayne Incorporation

http://www.thecoolist.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/11/White-Mountain-Office_albert-france-lanord-architects_1.jpg

The Offices of DeVayne Incorporation ("We're About People") are in a stylish area of mid-hive, near to the central Hole and the Hive's docks. The decor is a strange blend of office chic and austere monastic, with back-lit artificial stained glass set into the cavern walls and sleek office furniture emblazoned with quotations from the Catechisms of Duty. You are met at the front by a pleasant-faced man in a dove-grey robe who smoothly steps past the front desk and makes the sign of the aquilla and a slight bow.

"Good afternoon, my children. How may we help you in fulfilling your duties to the Emperor and your fellow man?" Still smiling, he gives the two of you a searching look, seems to decide that Grendel is a mere bodyguard, and directs his attention to Arel. "Are you looking to buy or to sell labor? We offer the best rates in the sector for unskilled and skilled bonded thralls and we can provide larger quantities than any other consortium. If you're looking to sell, we're always looking for a few good men, aheh."

[Gorgondantess]

"Arel Indoles- and this is my companion, Grendel. We're of the Adeptus Arbites, investigating the recent incidents at the DeVayne factoriums. I'll need to look over any documents related to the incidents you might hold."

[Vikingkingq]

Grendel and Arel:


The DeVayne friar's eyes widen for a second, but then his corporate smoothness reasserts itself. "I'm afraid I can't help you with that, but let me show you to somewhere you can wait while we find someone in our Legal Department who can assist you. The Emperor's Blessings Be With You."

He motions for you to follow him and makes a small sign with his hand to the brother working the desk as he leads you past the front doors through a maze of offices and workstations into a meeting room with a long series of burnished nalwood pews. "If you'll wait here, I'm sure someone will be with you directly."

As you wait, the PA system plays an Imperial hymn in a slightly maddening drone.

"Love the Emperor
for He is the salvation of mankind
Obey His words
for He will lead you into the light of the future"

After about fifteen minutes, a senior executive in a votive three-piece suit and a legal representative in pin-striped robes and ritually-polished shoes enters the room. "Good afternoon, Officers, I hope you haven't been waiting too long," the executive greets you in a warm, mellow tone. "My name is Father Search-Ye-The-Scriptures Geissler, and this is the head of our Legal Department here, Heinrich Gonffadvokat. I understand that you wanted to see documents regarding some...incidents? I'm sorry, I don't know what incidents you're referring to."

"Heed his wisdom
for He will protect you from evil
Whisper his prayers with devotion,
for they will salve your soul"

[Limos]

"Do not know what error in my programming brought me to this point..." Nihilus sighs, "Not exactly a people person, but will give a try." He gathers his courage for a moment and then walks over to the nearest ganger. Once there he very lightly taps him on the shoulder and clears his throat.

"Pardon friend, in need of information. Would you be able to help, or direct to one who can?" Nihilus says succinctly, "Do not mean to be nuisance."

[Vikingkingq]

Nihilus and Herritus:

The heavily-pierced moody-hammer turns around with a look of aggressive malice, but the complete unexpectedness of seeing a Techpriest makes him burst out in modestly-drunk laughter. "Well, scorch me sideways, a cogboy 'downhive amidst the rabble! You lost, padre?"

At the mention of information, he looks shifty for a second. "Not my line of work, yakennit? But I might know someone. How 'bout staking me and my buddies-" he motions to a gang of ugly, fearsomely armed thugs who perk up and hoot appreciatively, "to a round, and I'll see if I can remember."

[Limos]

"Hum, could see to reward for aiding investigation. Nihilus makes sure to stress the word reward, "Not much on me, but could perhaps pay some now, and larger reward if information proves useful?"

I'd like to roll Evaluate to see if I can figure out how many Thrones it would take to pay off these Gangers.

Evaluate
[roll0] vs. 42

FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU-
I haven't had a good roll all game.

[Raynn]

Hertirrus remains silent, waiting for his moment to intervene as he shuffles his deck, centering himself by using the cards as a psychic focus.

[Raynn]

Deleted due to omission.

[Raynn]

Deleted due to omission.

[Raynn]

Using the Psy Focus, so incase I do need the psychic focus Hertirrus will be ready.

Assuming I can stop once I succeed and that I have at least 30 seconds.
Invocation test 1: [roll0] vs. 35.
Invocation test 2: [roll1] vs. 35.
Invocation test 3: [roll2] vs. 35.
Invocation test 4: [roll3] vs. 35.
Invocation test 5: [roll4] vs. 35.

[Vikingkingq]

Nihilus and Herritus:

After motioning to a passing waitress for a round, the gangers seem to ease up, clapping the pair of you on the back - generally willing to act friendly to anyone who's buying.

A minute later, the waitress deposits a row of shots in metal tumblers, the ice-cloudy liquid within slopping within the cans as they hit the bar. "Finest Gorsk White Gyn," the bored-looking waitress recites leadenly. She waits a second for a tip, then shrugs and walks off.

The gangers reach eagerly for their mugs, but your pierced friend waves for them to stop and raises his tumbler in a toast. "To our new friends here," he wobbles, realizing he doesn't know your names but past the point of caring, "who paid for these here drinks, down the 'atch!" The crew slam back the Gyn in one go, and slam their mugs back onto the table, hissing with appreciation, and then look at you expectantly.

OOC:

Give me a Toughness check to see if you can down the shot of refined engine coolant without embarrassing yourselves in front of the gangers.

Also, Raynn - you successfully Invoke on the second turn, given that your Psy-Focus adds 10. In the future, please use the OOC thread for your rolls to avoid clutter.


After you drink, the pierced fellow points over to an older, dark-skinned man who sits at a desk in the corner near the cash register. "You looking for intell, go talk to Ol' Butchie there. He owns this here joint, and he sells more than Gyn if you know what I mean."

[Limos]

Nihilus downs the liquor and stares offf into the distance for a moment before hacking and choking with a sound akin to a car backfiring. "Oh my *COUGH HACK COUGH*... That is... Bracing." He weakly nods to his new drinking buddies. "Thank you gentlemen. Must speak to this Ol' Butchie now."

[Gorgondantess]

Arel nods. "Indeed, incidents. I'll need to see anything related to the industrial accidents at the factoriums your company owns."

[Vikingkingq]

Arel nods. "Indeed, incidents. I'll need to see anything related to the industrial accidents at the factoriums your company owns."

The lawyer looks puzzled and shoots you a condescending look. "My dear boy, DeVayne is a labor supplier. We sell labor to factoriums, we don't own any. Industrial accidents are a matter for management, it's not our concern...do you even have a warrant?"

[Gorgondantess]

Arel takes a deep breath, and speaks completely levelly, matter-of-fact. "I am Arel Indoles of the Adeptus Arbites Tithe Investigations Division, Unit 13. That is all the warrant I need. Meanwhile, it's come to my attention that in each of the DeVaunt Malloy factorium incidents, DeVayne corporation labor was present. I seek to investigate further."

[Vikingkingq]

Search-The-Scriptures gives the two of you a piercing look. "If you don't have a warrant, I suggest that the two of you leave now, before I have security throw you out."

[Gourtox]

Serghar

He is unimpressed by this boarish man. "Yes you can. We're here investigating the incident at the De-Vaunt Malloy Shipyards. What do you know about them?"

[Vikingkingq]

Serghar and Edzibsky:


Toborsky shrugs. "Used to be our neighbors, they ain't no more. But my people didn't have anythin' to do with that gakking horrorshow."

Edzibsky glares at the man. "Don't yank me around, Toborsky. We know your crew used to have a beef with the De-Vaunt Malloy men. Assaults, grand larceny, machine-tampering. Stone-wall us, and I swear same time tomorrow, you're going to have so many Arbites swarming over this place that you'll think you're in a precinct."

Toborsky's face looks worried for a second, but he holds it in. "Go yank yourself, Law Dog. We didn't have any-gakking-thing to do with this. Sure, we had a beef with the De-Vaunt Malloy boys - Local 45 of the Shipbuilders - we didn't like them using bonded thralls to make up their numbers because the pay wasn't good enough to attract real workers. All of us here at 1514 are free-born caste workers, some of us have 15 generations of ancestors who were skilled workers here in Magnagorsk. Thrall labor threatens all of us, and I got enough trouble trying to keep Delta-9 going with all of these gakking kidnappings and suicides or the ganger violence that you fine fellows don't seem interested in investigatin'."

Toborsky spreads his hands. "Look, I ain't saying we're angels. Tempers get hot, and some of my guys throw down with some of theirs. A few shipments go missing, maybe a machine or two don't work no more - that's just how the game goes in this here hive. But killing 400 people and blowing up a whole factory - that's insane. Look around, detectives, these are working men, not soldiers. I'm trying as hard as I can to protect them, because we've had some of ours snatched off the street, and we gotta live in the same damn neighborhoods where the gangers have apparently decided to start a war. I ain't got the muscle for anything else."

"That good enough for ya?"

[Vikingkingq]

Nihilus and Herritus:


While the gangers laugh at your retreating backs (or at least at Herritus), you make your way across the crowded bar towards the desk where Blind Butchie sits. It's not an easy passage - several times, you have to sidestep or backtrack when fist-fights break out in your path, but a quick-thinking Herritus scatters some small change on the ground in another direction, which causes enough of the crowd to surge that way and give you room to walk.

As you near the desk over by the bar, you notice a bank of cogitator-slaved weapons emplacements sunk into the wall above Butchie's head that track your motions. A hulking bartender/bodyguard lingers next to the older man, who counts Thrones into the cashbox unconcernedly.

"The name's Blind Butchie, but if'n you're looking to talk, you know that already," the old man rumbles, the lilting cadence of his voice suggesting an offworld origin. "Not too often I deal with one of the Iron Priests, or-" he sniffs the air, "or...abhumans neither. But I'm a man of business, so speak yours, and we can get to it."

[Raynn]

Hertirrus speaks coldly, but with respect, with an absence of emotion not a hatred "400. Four hundred people went missing, not dead, at least not when they were taken. A lot of dumb people have told us they knew nothing, that nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. I don't believe you are dumb, I believe you are a buisness man, and to be one of those in a place like this you need ample intelligience just to stay alive let alone be the go to man for information."

Hertirrus fiddled with the deck in his pocket, already psychicly charged "we need information, anything you have on the destruction in the factorium on the levels above, we have influence, we can help you if you help us, friend."

[Vikingkingq]

Hertirrus speaks coldly, but with respect, with an absence of emotion not a hatred "400. Four hundred people went missing, not dead, at least not when they were taken. A lot of dumb people have told us they knew nothing, that nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. I don't believe you are dumb, I believe you are a buisness man, and to be one of those in a place like this you need ample intelligience just to stay alive let alone be the go to man for information."

Hertirrus fiddled with the deck in his pocket, already psychicly charged "we need information, anything you have on the destruction in the factorium on the levels above, we have influence, we can help you if you help us, friend."


The old man's eyes continue to dart uncontrollably, but whether that's from nerves or just a side-effect of his blindness. "If it's information you're after, I might could help. Depends on the color of your coin, you feel me?"

[Raynn]

Hertirrus speaks up again "I have little coin, my friend will offer what she can so I shall offer only my skills, unless 4 thrones are of more worth to you than me allowing you to see the world again for a moment? That is my offer, a moments vision for a moment of truth."

[Limos]

"Have never payed informants before..." Nihilus mutters to Hertirrus, "How much is customary payment?"

"Hum, Blind one, will twenty five Thrones suffice to loosen your tongue?" Nihilus proffers cautiously. He pulls out several coins and jingles them

[Gourtox]

Serghar

Serghar takes a barely noticible grin knowing that this conversation would yield some information yet. "These men of yours that are snatched off the street, how do you know that they're not just being killed? You said there was an increase of ganger violence."

[Vikingkingq]

"Have never payed informants before..." Nihilus mutters to Hertirrus, "How much is customary payment?"

"Hum, Blind one, will twenty five Thrones suffice to loosen your tongue?" Nihilus proffers cautiously. He pulls out several coins and jingles them


Butchie ***** his head at the sound of the coins, seeming to count them just from the jingles. "Fraid I can't remember much for 25 thrones. 'Specially 'bout something as hard-core as that factorium going up. I might know something for 150." He smiles faintly.

You can either try a Barter roll or further RP.

[Limos]

"Am not constructed from legal tender blind man." Nihilus says sadly, "Will offer 80 Thrones, your sum of 150 absurd. Out of question."

[Vikingkingq]

Serghar and Edzibsky:


Toborsky shrugs. "I don't know. Gangers usually leave bodies where they fall, but kidnapping ain't exactly uncommon - lotsa folks would pay plenty for skilled workers. Other guilds, like them bastards in the Smelter's 770, or maybe some corporation that doesn't like paying wages people are eager to take, or organ harvester scum or somethin' like that. Naval press-gangs are fairly visible, so it ain't that - besides, they always sends a notice."

He leans forward. "I know this though: something is really stirring up the gangers. We're seeing lotsa guns, lotsa guns the kind we ain't normally see if you follow me, lots of brokeass underhivers flashing offworld creds, and lots of fighting. More than the usual beefing. Why don't you go investigate them?"

Edizbsky snorts. "If you're so all-fired anti-gang, how come you've got these-" he nods towards the crowd around the guild president, "skells around the place?"

"Hey! These aren't gangers, they're members of our special youth training program. For at-risk young men, who might otherwise go astray." He smiles disingenously, and the men around him snigger."They help out with our Neighborhood Safety Program, if you know what I mean."

[Vikingkingq]

Nihilus and Herritus:



The old man nods at the price, but looks subtly disappointed that you didn't haggle more. "Pay the man here." Once you hand over the necessary credits and his man ensures that the count is right, Butchie pulls out a small device that Nihilus recognizes as an illegally-modified stummer and activates it. All of the sudden, an almost imperceptible bubble of shimmering air surrounds the three of you, and you notice that you can no longer hear the pounding thud music or the sounds of the crowd.

"That's better. That factorium going up was bad business, but there's bad business all around these days. Nobody knows much, 'cept wasn't no accident. Someone with serious muscle came down on them - and weren't no amateurs neither.

"Whole Underhive's jumping bad, lots of bodies on the corner. But as far as missing folk goes, I have heard that there's this out of town gang, whole bunch of Volg boys, who've holed up in a bunch of abandoned habstacks over on Ash Street and...Iron, I believe, who've been makin' some serious money with the old disappearing act.

"For your own sake though, I wouldn't go round messin' with them. Them Volg boys got all the local gangers runnin' - got them outgunned. But I couldn't say I seen anythin' tho.

"Anyway, that's all I know. You boys mention my name, you won't say another word in your life, if you know what I mean.

"Nice doing business with you."

And with that, he drops the field. "Sorry I couldn't help you," he says loudly.

[Limos]

"Should be going." Nihilus says as he turns to Herritus, "Tell companions of our... failure. Pursue other leads, so on and so forth."

The stooped Tech Priest rises stiffly to his feet and stumps out of the bar, glad to leave the oppressive atmosphere and return to the far superior mixture of exhaust and ash that passes for Air in the underhive. Just like the engine room on the old space hulk. Enough to make a cogboy nostalgic sometimes. A pity the Respirator keeps him from enjoying the fumes.

[Gorgondantess]

Arel nods, and leaves.
"Well. That was rather... unproductive. Though, I'm not exactly one to... give up, so easily. What do you know about breaking and entering?"

[Gourtox]

Serghar

"Yes I believe I do. thank you for your time." Serghar turns around and strides out the door. "Come on Edzibsky let's head back to HQ. The others should know what we've found."

[Vikingkingq]

After a long day's investigation, the group reconvenes in a nondescript hab-stack in Delta-9, formerly De-Vaunt Malloy workforce housing and now mostly vacant following the collapse of the corporation. A suite of apartments has been set aside for your use - it's mostly standard issue furnishings, but a hi-res pict-screen and a cogitator set up in the common room are new.

A printed notice on the cogitator from Inquisitor Atreus orders you to make a report of your findings from the worksite. After the techpriest and adept get the machinery to work, the Inquisitor appears in the pict-screen, lighting a lho-stick holder.

"Good evening, gentlemen. I see you've been productive. Much the same has emerged from some of the other teams-" he lifts a sheaf of parchment reports, "a sudden...dislocation, disappearance, an explosion after the fact. Clearly some nefarious conspiracy is at work here. And these traces of sorcery...these are most troubling. From the descriptions I have received from my various employees of a psychic disposition, I believe the conspirators have access to the thrice-damned Buch dei Unassprechlichen Worten, that most foul and blasphemous grimoire of the arch-heretic von Junzt.

"Within that book is described a means for traversing the endless void of space through the creation of open Warp portals. Only a madman would dare to walk unshielded through the Warp, but then again, the sane do not use such a tome as a reference guide.

"If this is the case, this is a far darker matter than any mundane campaign of body-snatching. You must find out more, and fast. What are your next steps?"

[Gorgondantess]

Arel turns to the others, almost embarrassed. He flushes pale.
"The Inquisitor wants to know our planned course of action."

[Limos]

"Sources point toward Volg gang as involved in disappearances. If not carrying them out, probable that they are employed by the one who is." Nihilus says, "Will be investigating this link."

[Vikingkingq]

"Sources point toward Volg gang as involved in disappearances. If not carrying them out, probable that they are employed by the one who is." Nihilus says, "Will be investigating this link."

"Volgite gangers not being known for their grasp of the finer points of sorcerous lore or their use of non-standard weaponry, I would imagine that they are indeed pawns of some third party. Endeavor to discover who that third party is.

And remember, your cover here is that of an Arbites team. Keep that in mind as you prosecute this investigation."

[Vikingkingq]

After discussing the case for a few more minutes, the Inquisitor signs off. Collectively, you begin to feel quite tired - it's been a very long day since the ship dropped out of the Warp, and you've put a lot of miles on your feet.

Filing away to the various sleeping chambers that surround the common room, you collapse into an exhausted sleep.

Nihulus and Grendel only:

Later that night, you hear the sounds of someone moving quietly in the common room. The cogitator turns back on, and you hear the keys click softly.

[Daisuke1133]

Grendel opens his eyes and trying to be as quiet as possible, he moves from his bed to the side of the doorway and peeks around the corner to see who is using the cogitator.

[Limos]

Nihilus

Hearing the out of place noise the stooped tech priest rises from his chair (he doesn't actually sleep) and activates his Auspex, scanning the room with the cogitator and the surrounding area.

Tech Use
[roll0]
EDIT: YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAH

[Vikingkingq]

Nihilus

Hearing the out of place noise the stooped tech priest rises from his chair (he doesn't actually sleep) and activates his Auspex, scanning the room with the cogitator and the surrounding area.

Tech Use
[roll0]
EDIT: YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAH

Nihilus only:

The auspex sweep shows three unregistered humans in the common room, as well as the sleeping forms of the group, and Grendel, who's moved over to the door of his room.

One of the human figures is interacting with the cogitator unit, and you swear that you can almost hear the little machine spirit keening in fear and violation. The other two are guarding either side of the machine, facing outwards to watch either approach, and the auspex picks up weapons signatures from each of them.

[Vikingkingq]

Grendel only:

Moving quietly as you can, you peek out of the door and in the semi-darkness, you see three figures lit by the soft glow of the cogitator's screen. One of them, sitting in the chair in front of the device and typing furiously, has his back to you. The other two are standing guard with short-pattern las carbines, and are facing either side of the room. At the moment, they don't notice you.

[Limos]

Nihilus

Acting quickly Nihilus activates the vox built into his respirator and quietly contacts his companions. "Attention all acolytes. Intruders in common room, repeat, intruders in common room. Three life signs, weapon signatures logged. Proceed with caution."

And then directed only to Grendel, "Auspex indicates you are already aware. Will be unleashing Feedback Screech in hopes of distracting intruders and summoning assistance. Is this acceptable?"

[Daisuke1133]

Grendel grabs the holstered laspistol on the nightstand next to him and unholsters it before whispering into his vox, "Plan acknowledged. I will await your signal. Over."

[Limos]

Nihilus

"Brace yourself. This will be unpleasant." Nihilus says over the vox, takes a deep breath and steels his nerves.

"Pi is equal to exactly three." He blasphemes under his breath, he immediately begs forgiveness of the machine spirits but it is too late. The horrific illogic of that statement sends his vox into total revolt and his respirator erupts with a blood curdling screech of feedback.

Feedback Screech
Everyone within 30 meters makes a willpower test or loses a Half-action. On a more roleplaying level I think this is going to be loud enough to alert everyone in the building.

[Vikingkingq]

Grendel:

The moment the tech priest engages the vox to communicate with the group, all three of the figures immediately put their hands to their ear. The one at the desk lets out a startled "sinning hell!" and hurriedly unplugs something from the cogitator and reaches into a satchel for a device of some kind.

The other two drop into firing positions, using a couple of stuffed chairs as cover. "Job's gone klybo - finish up with that thing, go go go!"


The rest of the group is rudely awakened, first by the tech priest's vox message, the sound of agitated voices in the common room, and then by a godawful electronic shriek.

[Vikingkingq]

The unearthly howl of tortured machine code makes everyone in the apartment flinch, including the three operatives in the common room. Grendel's hasty shot with the laspistol ricochets wildly off the walls, causing the one at the keyboard to duck. The operative seems to cower under the desk.

The other two drop to one knee and return fire with professional elan. A volley of brilliant lasfire streaks towards the door which Grendel fired through.


Operative A - Semi-Auto Fire
[roll0] vs. 58
If hits, damage = [roll1]

Operative B - Semi-Auto Fire
[roll2] vs. 58
If hits, damage = [roll3]

Operative C: ....
[roll4]

[Vikingkingq]

Grendel ducks behind the wall as a pair of las-shots blast through the flakboard door and perforate his bed - but better his sleeping area than his breathing apparatus.

Performing the Three Sacred Thwacks of Weapon Clearing, the guardsman wards off an attack of weapon-jamming as he ponders his next move.

[Vikingkingq]

The operative under the desk finishes doing something that none of you can see, and ducks out from under the desk. "We're done! Let's get the frakk out of here!"

[Vikingkingq]

Just as the operative straightens up, he hoves into Grendel's view, and the guardsman sends a las-bolt into his chest that makes a strange metallic noise as it lands. Nonetheless, the operative stumbles back into the desk with a startled scream.

The two gunmen return fire at the plucky ex-soldier, discipline powering them through the after-effects of Nihilus' hideous screech. One barely misses, splintering the door, the other has his eye in properly.


Gunman A: vs. 58 (semi-auto, short)
If hits, damage = [roll]1d10+2
Gunman B: vs. 58 (semi-auto, short)
If hits, damage = [roll]1d10+2

[Limos]

Nihilus

Nihilus coughs and hacks as his vox circuits reset, giving him an ache in his jaw. He quickly draws his Las Carbine and moves to his door to reinforce the others. "*COUGH WHEEZE* Will be *COUGH COUGH* with you in moment!"

That's all I have enough actions for my first round. Moving and drawing my weapon

[Gorgondantess]

Arel's eyes water from the screech, wincing, and he leaps forwards into action, stepping out just behind the threshold and drawing his weapon: a large, heavy projectile handcannon, sleek and heavily plated, that seems as if one shot from which would cause him to fall apart and crumple to the floor. He flicks a switch on the side, and a red light flashes, painting the forehead of the nearest gunman's head with the brilliant red dot. It seemed all so simple: just aim, and squeeze the trigger.
Of course, it is not always so simple, as the shot goes wildly awry of the man's head.

[Vikingkingq]

Keening softly in pain, the injured operative legs it out the front door of the hab. You can hear the door bang behind him and then the sound of feet slapping down the corridor.