[Deathwatch/Rogue Trader] Strength of Will IC

[Essie]

The fragile boundary between space and the warp gently stirs, as if touched by a sleeper's breath.

And then, like some monster of the deep ocean's abyss, the ship translates back into the real world, suddenly looming, sleek, dark, and silent out of the starry expanse. The Heart of Darkness is a rare beast - a ship entirely new, fabricated at enormous expense by some of the finest extant shipwrights of the Imperium - but it runs as smoothly as any vessel of the Imperial or Astartes Navy has ever done, its workings balanced with artisanal skill to tolerances so fine that this may as well be the ideal form of the spacecraft. It glides silently through the void, towards its mark - the Ramilies Starfort, designated Winter's Stair - and towards its home.

________

'Vessel integrity deterioration report?'
'Clear.'
'Gellar residue report.'
'A few vestigial flickers in what look to be formation from the other side of the Winter's Stair, but auguries suggest that it's only a warp-shoal. Clear on our side.'
'Course deviation report.'
'Clear'.

Then, Battle Brothers,

Serf-Captain Holoferenes turns to you, grinning wearily.

Welcome home. We should be arriving at Winter's Stair within two hours, depending on course changes in both ships. The Chapter has missed you; your companies have missed you; the Emperor and Primarchs have missed you. When children leave their parents' threshold, it is ever a time of grieving, but this return can only be described as a miracle of Him on Terra, and now we rejoice.

You're standing in the cavernous Command Information Centre of the Heart. It's long since abandoned any pretence of being a conventional ship's bridge, instead feeling more like an ancient, spartan monastery, its walls bedecked with the cool glow of ten thousand linked data slates, its air brisk with the stiff chill of the mammoth coolant and ventilation system that stops the array from bursting into flames. Around you glide a handful of Chapter Serfs and civilian experts tithed to the Chapter, carrying out diagnostics, directing repairs, and the other autonomic functions that keep any ship from devolving quickly into a spreading cloud of debris. The Heart of Darkness relies mostly upon an elite servitor crew, but there are some duties only sapient, well-trained humans and augmented humans can perform.

Your armour, repainted in the warm grey of the Chapter, is in perfect condition. Even the blood that still stains the armour of Codicier Athenor and Chaplain Cadmus is looking as if it always belong their; some integral part of the armour as important as any ceramite plating or auric inlay. Your equipment - the arms that are the tools of your trade - has been lovingly oiled, burnished, and cleaned. Even Soulrender, which would usually be glowering in its sheath, seems cowed by the sense of quiet, tranquil, but charged expectation.

You are ready to come home.

[Calimos]

"Allow us to extend our thanks to you Captain, for bringing us - by the Grace of the Emperor - safely back to our Chapter's embrace. Back to our home".

The strong and heavy voice of Chaplain Cadmus resounded in the ship's bridge, over the mechanical and other sounds that were filling the place. Tall and imposing even for a Space Marine, Cadmus, was dressed in simple monastic robes, grey as the colour of their Chapter, touching absently, and with a sense of reverence, an oversized aquilla pendant hanging from his neck. His rosarius, a valuable relic, gifted to him by the Cardinals of the Adeptus Ministorum, symbolizing his bond with the Imperial Faith and offering Cadmus protection from many perils.

He saw his faithful armour, a true relic of the Chapter's history, worn in the past by many brave and exemplary battle brothers, from the era of the Emperor's crusade till present day. Contrary to that of the other battle brothers, his armour was painted black and a distinct skull helmet rested on its top, indicating his ascendancy to the hallowed rank of Chaplain.

"Coming home, after all those years", said Cadmus, almost talking to himself. "The Emperor granting us the grace to see our beloved Chapter once again. To meet our glorious Chapter Master, our wise Librarians, our faithful Chaplains. To tread the hallowed corridors of the Winter's Stair. To be as one again with our family. Coming home".

His heart beat faster in anticipation. His long period of testing was completed and hopefully with success. He couldn't wait to set foot upon the Winter's Stair, meet his mentor and ascend to his promised duties.

[ChronicLunacy]

Brother-Apothecary Krixos

"It will be pleasant to see our chapter brothers once again, but I will admit...I'll miss the Deathwatch's resources and research from time to time. No chapter of the Adeptus Astartes knows the Xenos, or can kill it more efficiently, than the Deathwatch. At least my time among them was well spent, and I can bring my knowledge and experience home to my chapter, for the betterment of my brothers and the glory of the He Who Sits Enthroned Upon Holy Terra." Krixos said, his voice unaugmented by his white diagnosticator helmet, which had been removed and clipped to his belt. Most of his white armor had not needed repainting, since he was allowed to more or less keep his Apothecary colors in the Deathwatch. Only minor bits of silver had to be replaced with Relictors gray or more white and red. He'd left the one pauldron that the Deathwatch had allowed him to keep its original Relictors gray when he left completely untouched, so that his brothers would see the wear he had acquired on it while he had faithfully worn it.

He ran a hand across his nearly shorn scalp, tracing the pale, old scar that cut across his bronzed skin. Running back across his crown from above his left eye, the old wound was a souvenir from a Tyranid genestealer, from when he had participated in the cleansing of a cult on Janus III. The xenos filth had cut his old helmet neatly down the front, ruining it. That had been one of his first missions with the Deathwatch. A good memory.

Krixos wondered what his old squadmates and former mentors had been doing in his absence. How many of them had fallen in combat? How many had gained honor and done glorious deeds in the Emperor's name since he'd been gone? He thought not of outdoing them in any way, since such competition if taken too far was unworthy of a space marine. The Emperor's Astartes asked only to serve, and Krixos had been fortunate in that regard. If he allowed pride to get the better of him, he would be no better than the lowest initiate, or even the filth the chapter fought so hard against. He recited a prayer to the Emperor under his breath, asking forgiveness for any sins committed by deed or by thought. Even with their homecoming, his thoughts weren't to be governed by glory and pride. Most of all, he was looking forward to taking his place amongst his chapter, spending some time in cloistered prayer, and some well-earned, quiet research in the star fort's expansive librarium. That is until he was called to once again take up power sword and Holy Bolter against mankind's enemies once more.

He smiled at the thought. Yes, today would be a good day.

[Ceridan]

Faust lingered near the auspex panel, watching the flickering readings on the display as the ship’s captain welcomed them home. As much as he may have missed his brothers or the fortress monastery that he would, almost, miss the Heart of Darkness more. The ship being an engineering triumph of the first order, it was easy to discern the Master of the Forges interest in the vessel. The skills and technology that were utilized in its construction are a dwindling and priceless resource in the Imperium of today. He resolved to put in a request to help with any maintenance the vessel would receive when the time came.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he almost missed Chaplin Cadmus’ last few words. “Indeed brother Chaplin. Perhaps a prayer to mark this auspicious occasion?” he said as he straightened and walked over to his brothers, the servos of his armor making barely a whisper as they supported him and the massive servo harness he wore.

As a tech marine, brother Faust was always on duty when shipboard, as his skills might be required for any number of reasons. His battle plate was the work of master craftsmen and artificers of the first order. He bore the Grey of the Relicators Chapter except over the left paldron and vembrace, those bore the red of Mars, and the Cogwheel device of the Adaptus Mechanicus. The servo arms attached to his harness opened and closed reflexively, answering to his subconscious anxiety at seeing home once again.

[Arcanoi]

Athenon brooded silently, watching the gathering of brothers returning home, feeling a now-familiar chill. Something wasn't right. He could feel it, like a star on the verge of cresting the horizon, or a scream on the edge of hearing. He'd peered into the Warp half a dozen times over the course of the Heart's journey, searching for insight into his permeating sense of unease, but the Emperean had been bleak and uninformative, almost unnaturally (As far as anything could be unnatural in such a realm) quiet. He knew some of his peers in the Librarius were far more adept at Divination than his paltry skills in the field, and he eventually managed to dismiss the chill, even though it remained, reasoning that if some great event was coming to Chapter, they would see it well before he did.

He turned his gaze to the growing silhouette against the stars, the Winter's Stair, as the Heart slinked towards it.Home. It had been a long time, a very, very long time. His mind caught on the decades, nearly a century, that he had been gone from his chapter. A new Chapter Master, a Black Crusade come and gone... things had changed. His eyes flitted to Ancient Asriel, whose great bulk was altogether out of place on the bridge. Moreover, his eyes settled on the Fire Claws heraldry that was still emblazoned on the matte-black Sarcophagus. It had been far longer for others.

Still, he mused. It was good to be home. Brother-Codicier Athenon stood alongside his brothers, united in homecoming, and buried his doubts deep.

[Essie]

'No thanks are needed, honoured Chaplain; it is thanks enough to guide you home. Not to mention the utterly glorious vehicle we have been permitted to pilot back to the Parent Chapter with you.'

____

One hour passes, rather than the expected two - it seems the ship is fast, as well as stealthy - and you pull up alongside one of the docks of the Winter's Stair. It dwarfs the ship, nearing a hundred kilometers on its longest side, carved out of the husk of a would-be planet, struck off some distant system and wandering space until discovered by the first Relictor Chapter Master, Gamaliel. Since then, it has been carved into a perfect complex of Platonic solids, shaped according to numerological and kabbalistic designs and plans, and finished with great disturbing, abstracted frescoes kilometers high. And, of course, replete with weapons, loading docks, and space-craft mooring platforms. As you begin to move towards it, it almost feels like a wind is blowing you towards it - the station's own gravitation pull exerting its influence on you. There is a single heart-stopping moment when the ship's engines shut off, and you are in free motion - then a shuddering thump as the you dock onto the Ramilies Star Fort, the home of your Chapter.

Well then - go forth! I'll finish up here, but this is your day, your moment of glory, and the Chapter's moment of honour.

[ChronicLunacy]

Brother-Apothecary Krixos

"All the same, I dislike ceremony. We are the Emperor's servants. All glory and honor should be to Him. We were merely the tools in His hands." Krixos said, somehow managing to shrug even in his bulky shoulder pauldrons. "Much like my scalpel...or my bone saw." he added, looking briefly at the massive form of Ancient Asriel. "Besides..." he sighed. "All of that pomp and circumstance...so bothersome. I'd settle for a 'Good job, brothers. Back to work!'"

Krixos chuckled briefly and started walking out of the room. For a space marine with only a century of service under his belt, he was surprisingly jaded about things. The Apothecary had always carried that sort of air about him, however, like he'd seen and done all of it before. "I suppose it can't be helped, though, can it?"

[Calimos]

“Indeed brother Chaplin. Perhaps a prayer to mark this auspicious occasion?” he said as he straightened and walked over to his brothers, the servos of his armor making barely a whisper as they supported him and the massive servo harness he wore.


Cadmus nodded to the esteemed brother-techmarine Faust and beckoned to the rest, to gather in the center of the room, before departing.

Once they were all in place, he raised his hands, close his eyes and prayed wholeheartedly to the Immortal God Emperor, thanking him for bringing them back safely and pleading to Him to provide them with faith, humility, wisdom and strength, to serve Him for all eternity.


We are gathered here, our Lord, Allmighty Emperor of Mankind, humbled in Your Presence.

We extend our words of gratitude to You, oh Holy One, for allowing us to return to our Chapter, as the son returns to his father after being away for a long time.

We are grateful oh Emperor, for Your Grace, that has preserved us till this day.

We are grateful that You strengthened us all, to carry out Your divine Will, and purge all enemies of Mankind, wherever and whenever we found them.

Look upon us, Your humble servants, oh Emperor, and cleanse our souls of any doubt, hesitation, taint and arrogance.

Bless us our Lord, for we seek only to carry out Your divine Will and exact Your righteous Retribution against all who threaten Your domain.

Grant us Your Wisdom, to carry out our duties and safeguard us from all perils.

Be with us, until the end of all time and help us come by Your side, at the feet of your Golden Throne, when You deem our service fullfilled.

Grant us the privilege to stand by your side in the End, alongside the Primarchs and all our brothers, when You shall rise from Your Golden Throne and fight against the Archenemy.

Let us be there my Lord and bask in Your Eternal Glory.

For it is You who will safeguard our souls and lead us to the final victory.

Amen.

After finishing his prayer, Chaplain Cadmus ordered for his armour to be transfered properly in the Armory of the Winter's Stair (or his own quarters, whichever would be more appropriate) and proceeded to exit the Heart of Darkness alongside his brothers. He walked barefoot, dressed only in his grey coloured, monastic robe and bearing only his aquilla shaped Rosarius hung from his neck. He intended to project an image of humility upon his return for only when a servant is humble can the power of his Lord be properly seen. All the glory should be given to the Immortal God Emperor. Now and for all Eternity.

[LCP]

There was no light in the darkened sarcophagus. Senses that had been slumbering for too long groped for the sensors that had replaced eyes and ears. One thing cut through Asriel’s adamantium shell, stirring the Ancient One into twitches of motion – the trembling of their void-vessel as it docked. They were home.

The Winter’s Stair. He had heard whisperings among the brief little flies that flitted in the bowels of the ship, monitoring his waking, whisperings that made no sense. Here, perhaps, he would await transport to the Fortress-Monastery on Neutra. After so many long centuries beneath the Watch Fortress, the starfort itself seemed like a homecoming. The Techmarine who had woken him had seemed to think so – the battle-brother’s name escaped his grasp like a shred of mist on the wind. Impermanent, unimportant. He was home with the chapter now.

The corridors of the Heart were not his to walk. Heavy docking clamps lifted his hull, the vaulted cargo-shafts of the frigate’s hold hoisting the venerable Dreadnought towards his destination. As bulkheads rumbled open and the ratcheting rattle of machinery ceased, Ancient Asriel stepped out into the light of the living world.

There was a tinny rustle as a speaker that had been cleaned of seven decades’ dust clicked into life.

++BROTHERS++
++HAIL++

[Essie]

Around Asriel's mighty frame, chapter serfs quail and prostrate themselves in a paralysing mixture of fear and awe. They have all seen the inactive form of the Dreadnought, but seeing it given life and movement, turned, Pygmalion-like from a perfect statue to a more perfect still living being, is practically a divine intervention to them. Holoferenes, despite having seen this take place a few times before, and despite being one of the most skilled commanders among the Relictor fleet, is still suitably impressed.

[Ceridan]

Faust bowed his head and made the cog wheel sign of the Emperor in his guise of the Omnisiah as he listened to Chaplain Cadmus’ supplication. “Amen” he whispered as the prayer drew to conclusion and the Chaplain moved off. He strode off to watch the debarkation of Ancient Asriel. Witnessing the war machine in motion always stirred his hearts.

As the ancient warrior spoke Faust grinned as he approached, “And to you revered elder. How did you sleep?” It was always a subject that interested him, dreams. The human mind, the mind that was the well spring of human invention and innovation, thought and function, and dreams were a way for those ideas to express themselves. That was never more evident than in those who were in constant communion with the sacred perfection of the machine.

[LCP]

++WITH DIFFICULTY++, replied the Dreadnought.

Servos whined in the bearings of Asriel's waist as the Dreadnought's torso traversed from left to right, taking in its surroundings.

++FOR WHOM DO WE WAIT++

[ChronicLunacy]

Brother-Apothecary Krixos

The apothecary had paused for a moment for the chaplain's prayer to the Emperor, making the sign of the aquila when it ended. Then continued on toward the airlock with everyone else. His work had been finished late in the journey, when he had been responsible for performing thorough scans of each of the returning heroes. It was Krixos's sacred duty to check the brothers for mutations and general wellness before and after every mission, and he had considered the return home another such occasion. They'd allowed him to execute that duty with minimum fuss, since they knew he'd make it much harder for them if they didn't report to the medicae bay promptly. Krixos had even had the opportunity to go over Ancient Asriel's biological components with the assistance of Forgemaster Faust.

The ancient battle brother's machine spirit was feisty today. No doubt he was eager to make his return to the chapter after so many centuries away -- far more than any of the rest of them. He wasn't about to advise the dreadnought to have patience, however. Asriel, more than any of them, knew about patience. To have a whelp of only a century shush him would be insulting.

As Krixos waited to make his departure, he amused himself by watching the chapter serfs run around Asriel's feet like startled chickens, squeaking and flapping about. He could understand their behavior. To mortals, the Emperor's Space Marines were like angels made flesh. Ancient Asriel was a step above even that. It hadn't been so long ago that he had been one of them. He remembered that the revered Captain that had recruited him had to remind him to breathe when they first met. That produced a small chuckle.

[Essie]

The gathered Relictors - and Fire Claw - wait in the airlock. The very air, as it rushes back in from inside the Winter's Stair, carries the scent of old books, of old parchment and leather bindings. It is a welcoming atmosphere, and only makes the coming rejoining of the parent chapter more joyous. The enormous pressure doors roll ponderously, smoothly, back, to reveal -

No-one. The vestibule is deserted, empty of life, familiar faces, ancient pennants and old brothers of the Chapter. There is no sound, no sign, of anyone. Even light has not seen fit to show up - the lumen strips along the ceiling are not on emergency settings, but they are dull, withdrawn, sapped of their customary blinding vigour. Taken together, there's a sense of anticipation, of the entire ship holding still, and holding its breath.

[Calimos]

"By the Emperor", exclaimed Cadmus as his bare feet touched the cold metal of the Winter's Stair.

"Many years have passed since I last walked on our glorious Fortress but I seem to remember it much more alive. All this silence, all this emptiness, it's causing a somewhat ominous foreboding on me brothers. What do you think?"

[ChronicLunacy]

Brother-Apothecary Krixos

"When I suggested that a welcoming ceremony was excessive, I did not mean this... Performing auspex scan." Krixos announced quietly, his voice picking up an electronic reverb between the first and second sentence as he locked his diagnosticator helmet back into place. The auspex scanner was part of the equipment sprouting from the top of his backpack, along with the spotlight that he kept unlit for the moment. His brothers could see in the dark just fine and his own equipment augmented his senses even further. The only reason he'd turn it on was if he needed to make out a color for some reason.

Krixos watched the readout begin to scroll by across the inside of his helmet. The world was tinged green with nightvision, but he could see thermal signatures, invisible gases, ambient radiation, and more. Any bio-signs not blocked by thick walls or lead in the construction would stand out like stars in the night sky to him. His hand strayed near the ancient power sword he wore at his hip, a relic recovered by his kill-team several years back which he had been honored to reclaim to the Emperor's service, but he didn't draw it yet. He hoped they were just jumping at shadows here.

Awareness Check: (+30 Helmet +10 Training +20 Auspex - Rolling at 105 minus any penalties. Basically, the only way I'm going to fail is if I roll a 96 or above.) [roll0]

Nice way to start the game! I'll take it! That's what...ten degrees of success?

[Essie]

Damn, Krixos begins as he means to continue. In my IRL Delta Green Group, getting a natural 1 allows you to warp reality and, Prometheus-like, steal a spark of the GM's power. I won't go that far, but the you haven't seen the end of the benefit of this success ...

The Winter's Stair is no ghost ship; it is not dead, its crew have not been mysteriously raptured out into the warp, and it is still running relatively smoothly. You can feel the minute shifts under your feet as grav-plates shift and flex to maintain order and perpendicularity; the slight inertial shudders as the station makes minute course changes. Even the lowered lighting is explainable - the apothecary can sense the mental and spiritual echoes that come from being behind a powerful void shield, that is presumably placing a spectacular drain on even the station's reactors. Everything, therefore, is explainable - it is not, however, normal.

[ChronicLunacy]

Brother-Apothecary Krixos

"Something is awry. I read our brothers' lifesigns. They're alive, they're here, they're just not here. I believe it has something to do with the massive power drain I'm reading from the fortress." he explained. He gestured to the lights above them. "I am no techmarine, and I will bow to your superior expertise in this field, Forge-Master, but I've seen the signs before. A powerful void shield, or perhaps a series of overlapping void shields, has been activated and is causing some of the redundant, or secondary and tertiary systems to go offline. Whatever is going on, our chapter finds itself too busy to greet us. We should hasten to go to them so that we may be of assistance should we be needed." he advised.

Using a hold-out palm slate that linked to the auspex feed, Krixos would offer to share the results of his scan with anyone who felt they could provide some added insight, but he was fairly sure that he had gotten the gist of it. Even now he turned his helmeted head upward, as if he could see through to the center of the star fort and whatever was causing the massive power bleed.

[Ceridan]

Master of the Forge, Hephaestus Faust

Faust listened to Brother-Apothecary Krixos’ summary of his scan data and moved up beside him, checking the readings over his shoulder. “Interesting….” He mused aloud. “I must find an interface terminal and commune with its machine spirit. Perhaps then we may be able to locate where the void shield or shields is emanating.” He strode into the vestibule and to the nearest data port.

If the terminal is active Faust will attempt to do the following: 1. Determine if the fortress is under some kind of attack. 2. Locate the epicenter of the power drain. 3. Make contact with one of the stations resident Tech Marines.

If the terminal is damaged or locked he will attempt to repair or unlock it.

Tech Use: Base 75 +10 for combi-tool, +10 for electro graft use, +10 for his power armour’s MIU. [roll0] 5 degrees assuming no negatives.
Or
Security: Base 75. [roll1] 7 degrees assuming no negatives.

[Calimos]

Cadmus's face somewhat relaxed at the expert diagnosis of their surroundings by brother Apothecary Krixos. He nodded approvingly and awaited, while pondering on what might have been the reason for erecting a void shield of such magnitude over the Winter's Stair.

[Arcanoi]

Athenon struggled with, and quickly failed to keep the grimace from his face. As much as he might have quietly griped to himself about the unnecessary nature of any welcoming ceremony, the utter lack of any reception at all, and the natural ambiance of the Stair itself, combined into an altogether disquieting aura. Surely the Relictors had known their wayward scions were set to arrive. It set itself up as a mystery, and if there was anything that Athenon did not like, it was something he did not know.

"Yes, well, Apothecary. This is no foul xenos-make fortress. This is our home, the Winter's Stair, the seat of our Chapter's power. Perhaps if we simply entered, we might obtain information freely given, as opposed to underhandedly gleaned as though we were intruders."

[ChronicLunacy]

Brother-Apothecary Krixos

Krixos ignored the Librarian's rather caustic remark, as surely his brother was simply mistaken in assuming that he had meant to go about conducting underhanded schemes in the chapter's own home. Did everyone not just hear him suggest they go forth swiftly to aid their brothers? Perhaps the excitement had simply gotten the best of Athenon, or some psychic noise had distracted him. He had heard that the presence of void shields affected psykers in different ways.

"Master Faust, what do the machine spirits have to say?" he asked instead, turning the conversation toward a more proactive direction.