Scholariate at Arms

[bluntpencil]

Scholariate-at-Arms
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You have been told of the Inquisition; that shadowy organisation which defends Mankind and the Emperor from the perils of heresy, possession, alien
dominance and rebellion.

You have been told the Inquisition are the ultimate defence against the phantoms of fear and terror which lurk in the darkness between the stars.

You have been told the Inquisition are the bright saviours in an eclipse of evil; purest and most devoted warriors of the Emperor.

You have been told the Inquisition is united in its cause to rid the galaxy of any threat, from without or within.

Everything you have been told is a lie!

+++

You are an Acolyte of Inquisitor Octus Enoch, Prognost Pursuant of the Ordo Malleus' Scholariate-at-Arms in the Calixis Sector. What this actually means may mean very little to you; the Inquisition are a secretive lot, after all...

Your first missions went well, according to the reports, for what that was worth. Now it was time for greater things. You were summoned to the Scholariate-at-Arms' holdings in the Tricorn Palace, on Scintilla, by your lord and master. He gathered you and your cell-mates in a simple briefing room, filled to the brim with ancient tomes, modern data-slates and everything in-between. At his side sat a blindfolded woman, the Emperor's Tarot laid out in front of her.

The Inquisitor stroked his beard and let you stand for quite some time, the tension in the air being almost tangible.

He sat still, moving only to apparently remove some dust from his armour. Eventually, he snapped his fingers, and a servo-skull buzzed from behind a stack of books, carrying a scroll with the Inquisitor's seal upon it.

He nodded, and explained calmly that this was your mission. You were to go to Fenksworld, and investigate potential cult behaviour in the factories. You were to maintain cover and attempt to keep things entirely deniable, due to potential jurisdiction issues with the Adeptus Mechanicus.

Inquisitor Enoch seemed to know a lot about what was going on, but revealed very little. That was always the case, though. He'd have you kill an individual of no import, and apparently that would prevent a daemonic incursion later. At other times he would remove you from a posting... several months before a catastrophic natural disaster.

He always had a psyker, or a cleric, nearby. The psykers would always be consulting the Emperor's Tarot, the clerics would always be consulting prophecies laid down by Imperial Saints. Such was his way as Prognost Pursuant.

Regardless, you had your mission. To gather information on a potential cult on Fenksworld. It wasn't stated, but it was quite obviously implicit that there was very likely tech-heresy of some sort involved.

The terrifying thing, however, wasn't the mission statement itself, but the Inquisitor's parting words...

"Be careful."

That could never be a good thing. There could be witches, xenos, daemons or anything combination of those together, or even something different entirely. He wouldn't be giving a warning like that if it wasn't necessary...

Now you were en-route to Fenksworld, with arrangements having been made to contact pre-existing sleeper agents in the field who were now to be activated. A hefty responsibility, and a small step up the Imperial chain of command.

It was time to prove yourself to the Emperor.


+++

You gained passage to Fenksworld on the Loyal Dromedary, owned by the noble Tybalt family. Of course, being Inquisitorial operatives, you were given the best of quarters, treated like Hive Spire nobility, at least for the duration of the journey.

Apparently, afterwards, things were going to get bad... you were going to Volg Hive, after all, known, in the Calixis Sector and beyond, for being something of a hell-hole.

Inquisitor Enoch made an off-hand remark about Volg Hive, quoting a friend or Acolyte of his,
“If you go to that Emperor-forsaken place, take their advice: keep a bullet. Always keep one. Not for them, you understand – no, keep it for yourself.”

So, yes, things were looking grim.

On top of that, the reason that you had been sent there seemed rather strange. You had been given a large chest of tomes, books and files with information, which you haven’t yet had much time to look through, and were told,

“I have sleeper cells and agents in various sectors of Volg Hive. They will assist you in integrating into the Hive’s workings. They do not yet know you are coming; I sent for you as soon as it came to my attention that mysterious deaths and disappearances in Volg Hive were so low.”

During the journey, you were often waited on by several adepts sworn to Inquisitor Enoch, each of them an expert on some obscure matter regarding Fenksworld’s culture. They were under strict orders to make sure that you were fully briefed on the planet’s people and customs, as well as the Hive Dialect of Low Gothic spoken in Volg Hive.

Interestingly, they had little to no details on the actual mission; all of that was contained in the chest of texts, so you probably had to work out your mission yourself. This had happened before, after all.

On translation from the Warp, the ship’s Captain informed you that you had approximately two days’ travel in realspace until arrival at Fenksworld. You would likely have time to prepare for the task at hand by reading up on whatever your Lord had given you. The ship itself would be remaining above the planet for several weeks, as it takes quite some time to unload and load a vessel of such size.

[DrK]

Gethin Bastion

The voyage had been long and boring. The soldier spending most of his time amongst the on board marines training in their armoury. Now that they had translated back into realspace he stood by a viewing window in the observation gallery. He stared into the void wondering which of the tiny specks ahead was the Fenksworld.

Glancing about he drained the mug of amesac and wondered about the nature of the other Acolytes tasked by the Inquisitor on this mission. His massive scarred knuckles flexed and crackled as he wished for the comforting grip of the chain blade. Heresy means the scum of chaos. My blade thirsts for them".

[Caimheul]

Magos Biologis Johann Syme

The Magos spends much of the trip in his quarters studying the materials given to the cell, the silence in his chambers punctuated by periodic outburst by the tech-priest in a similar vein to the following: "No no no Flak, that doesn't make any sense. Do I need to re-calibrate you again?" To those who do not know the Magos, it seems that he is talking to an empty room, as surely one initiated into the secrets of the Adeptus Mechanicus would know a servo skull is just a simple machine... right?

Logic test to find any helpful pattern/information in the stack of files, while hooked into the ships MIU systems (otherwise subtract 10 from result): [roll0]
and just for fun scanning files with Auspex for anything physically hidden in the stacks of papers: Tech Use: [roll1]

[Tome]

Interrogator Zane Valiant

Zane passes the time fairly sociably, enjoying the comforts afforded to them by their gracious host and mingling with the more cultured elements of the crew. When not cheating at cards, he delves into the research the Inquisitor left them, cross-referencing and lending his own expertise to the Magos Syme's efforts - knowing the Inquisitor Enoch, a good portion is likely to be indecipherable prophecies.

The ship's return to realspace signals Zane to begin his final preparations. He puts aside the playing cards and amasec and intensifies his efforts to piece together the collection of documents the group has been entrusted with, starting with a reading of the Emperor's Tarot for each of his fellow acolytes. "Shall we see what the Emperor has in store for us this time, friends?".

First up, Zane is going to do a Personal Augury for each of the Acolytes, assuming they don't object. Everyone, pick a question you'd like Zane to try and find an answer for - the more specific the question, the more precise the answer should be. His own question will be "What obstacles will I face on this mission?".

Fettered Focus Power (Psyniscience 53 + Psy Rating 5 + Psy Focus 10) = 68

Zane [roll0]
Gethin [roll1]
Johann [roll2]
Raltus [roll3]

Next, I reckon he'll give the documents they've been given a good read through using every skill he has that could be even remotely relevant to the topic.

Common Lore (Imperial Creed) [roll4]
Forbidden Lore (Psykers) [roll5]
Forbidden Lore (The Warp) [roll6]
Logic [roll7]
Scholastic Lore (Occult) [roll8]
Scrutiny [roll9]
Trade (Soothsayer) [roll10]

[Caimheul]

Magos Biologis Johann Syme

The transition to real space finds the Magos among the other acolytes, a rare occurrence to be sure during travel, however even tech-priests need to ingest organic materials from time to time. The interrogator's superstitious card games are a familiar sight, and for whatever reason the answers he gave were too accurate to assign simply to random chance. "Is this mission in response to the actions of a group of tech heretics?"



And more rolls for analyzing the files we were given basically to see if anything Johann knows about these things are a possible cause of the strange occurrences (or rather lack thereof) we are supposed to investigate:
Forbidden Lore (Archeotech): [roll0]
Forbidden Lore (Xenos): [roll1]
Common Lore (Adeptus Mechanicus): [roll2]
Common Lore (Tech): [roll3]
Common Lore (Machine Cult): [roll4]
Common Lore (Imperium): [roll5]

[DrK]

Gethin Bastion

The would be guardsman looks around as the interrogator and the magos appear within the observation deck. Seeing both he snaps off a smart salute, still aware of his junior nature in the cell and his chequered past in the penal legion and the fighting pits of the penal world.

Magos, Interrogator. How can I assist you sirs? I believe we have 2 days still of real space transit"

At mention of the Emperor's Tarot the pit fighter looks down and asks more of a personal question "Will I make amends for the crimes of the past?"

[mrzigzag]

Raltus Tybalt

The Throne Agent spends most of his time on the journey in the more opulent quarters provided to them, pouring over the intelligence provided by our master, referencing data with Inquisitor Zane and Magos Syme, and treasuring the fine amasec and silken clothing before likely going into hiding in some minimalist safe house for Throne knows how long.

On transitioning to real space, Raltus begins his final preparations and equipment checks. He asks for the Omnisiahs blessings of Magos Biologis Syme for his bionic left arm, and seeks out the ships Ecclesiarchy representatives to bless the rest of him.

The Interrogator has a mind to try our fate against the Tarot. Raltus thought of that as game of hucksters and fortune telling frauds upon joining the Inquisition. Master Enoch places a lot of faith in that practice, and it's hard to argue with his results though. Plus, you see all kinds of things in the Inquisition that supposedly didn't exist, or at least shouldn't. What the hell, might as well give it a shot.

Raltus sat for a couple moments in front of the deck trying to think of something profound to ask, but failed and settled for something more practical.
"Is Inquisitor Enoch the only Inquisitor active on our destination?"


Socializing Tests during the voyage.
Awareness [roll0] to notice if anything odd aboard the ship during the journey
Charm* [roll1] on crew for gossip about our destination.
Inquiry* [roll2] on the ships primary officers to see what they know about the destination, and if my Vendetta focus has holdings here.
Inquiry* [roll3] with the more criminal-minded of the crew to find info on any prominent gangs, syndicates, crime bosses, etc. in Volg.
* = +1 MoS on successful test from Adroit.

Information Tests for stack of documents our Inquisitor left us.
Common Lore (Imperial Guard) [roll4]
Common Lore (Tech) [roll5]
Common Lore (Underworld) [roll6]
Forbidden Lore (Archeotech) [roll7]

[Tome]

Interrogator Zane Valiant

"Good questions" Zane says with a smirk, carefully drawing and shuffling a well worn deck of tarot cards from within his coat. With a flourish he spreads them across the table in three sets of three, one set for each of the other acolytes.

He reaches for the trio of cards he laid before Raltus, flipping them in quick succession. The Inquisitor, the Harlequin, the Star inverted. "Well, your answer's pretty simple at least" he explains, indicating the first of the cards. "Yes, at least one other Inquisitor is active or has agents at our destination. With a Harlequin and inverted Star though, I'm afraid that's all I can read. Think of them as being the tarot's mocking laughter, eh?".

The Emperor, the Assassin and the Hulk for Gethin. "That's a nice clear answer for you too - looks like I'm on a roll. The Emperor speaks of hope and redemption, while both the assassin and the Hulk speak of opportunity - though not necessarily an easy one. An opportunity will present itself, rest assured, should you be willing to take it".

The third and final set of cards are revealed for the Magos. An inverted Magos, the Great Eye and the Shattered World. The meaning is plain enough for anyone to see. "Well. That's... pretty damn final. Someone in Volg Hive's been misbehaving, because we're definitely going to be running into tech-heretics at some point. Let's make sure we pack a toy or two for when we cross paths".

A practised movement sweeps the cards back into his hand. "A word of warning gents" he mentions, not without some slight hesitation, as he returns the deck to his coat, "but my own readings told me to expect an encounter with the Daemonic, one I've run into before. I declined to investigate it further - only fools and madmen scry Daemons too closely, and this ship lacks somewhere warded enough for me to play the fool - but I'd see if you can't lay hands on something appropriate, just in case".

[DrK]

Gethin nods his scarred and bruised head to the Interrogator. "Thank you for the reading. Nothing worthwhile is ever easy to obtain. And if the dark Gods are involved then I look forward to eviscerating them."

At the further words of tarot reading Acolyte his brow furrows slightly. "I have never faced the demonic. Do you have any advice?"

[bluntpencil]

Using the ship's cogitator arrays, the Magos is able to see some patterns in the texts that he is analysing.

They are from different sources, many are religious texts, many are writings, such as journals, by Sanctioned Psykers, Astropaths and Navigators. All are linked, foretelling, in various ways, a slow, wasting tragedy occurring on Fenksworld. They seem to imply that the factories in Magnagorsk will go quiet after something happening in Volg Hive.

That being said, some of the texts have conflicting information, and downright strange predictions.

"Volg's corruption will doom or save Magnagorsk."

[Caimheul]

Magos Biologis Johann Syme

"Hmmmm... I have heard of a type of grenade that is capable of interfering with technology. Such devices are fairly uncommon, but perhaps we can lay our hands on a few for emergencies, especially as they would affect all but the simplest of our weaponry and any cybernetics that we may be blessed with. More concerning is the messages contained in the files our employer saw fit to provide us, the portents they contain are often contradictory, and Flak seems to think they indicate that the corruption in Volg hive can either save or be the downfall of the planet. Of course I told him such an idea was ridiculous." He says, his mostly mechanical face hiding whether or not he is serious about the servo skull having an opinion. He turns to the floating skull and nods as if it said something "Yes, yes, I was getting to that. Apparently an occurring in the hive is supposed to result in a global shut down of manufacturing. It would have to be some major catastrophic event to cause such a shut down, I've heard of forge worlds continue to produce in the face of wide spread planetary invasion. At least until the foul xenos manage to control the entire planet."

[bluntpencil]

A large amount of the more religious texts are in High Gothic, limiting the research performed by Magos Syme. He is able to piece together several with linguistic links, with the assistance of the cogitator units, but is able to glean no information from them.

Fortunately, Raltus Tybalt grew up in the lap of luxury, speaking High Gothic with his family and retainers...

[DrK]

Gethin looked to the others, his eyes glazing slightly as they discussed things before he turned to the others. "Will we need biggers guns?"

After he receives the answers he heads down to the comms station, pondering one what particular brand of Volg scum he should try and contact for information...


Common Lore (underworld) [roll0] TN 42

[mrzigzag]

Raltus helps the Magos with the High Gothic translations, piecing together the results of the cogitator units and helping with obscure definitions, hoping to divine the meaning of their files.


Linguistics (High Gothic) [roll0]

[bluntpencil]

Tybalt is of little use when it comes to translations; the meanings are often lost due to poetic language.

The texts seem to use a lot of hyperbole, as one might expect from religious tomes of prophecy. There is talk of the 'vaccination of Magnagorsk against the Warp, like an infant against the plague' but apart from that, he gleans little.

Along with prophecies, the chest of texts also includes a list of contacts and agents that the team can meet in Volg Hive, these individuals likely know of others they can contact, too. They most probably have access to an Astropath, at least in some way.

In Volg Hive the team have access to:


Lexographer Abigail Beaumont; an Adept at the Bureau of Penal Procedure.

Father Ricardo Mendez; a Chaplain at Volg's 41st Decontamination and Purification Plant (B-Grade Water for Human Consumption).

Lieutenant Boris Prutko; a detective for the over-worked Enforcers of Volg Hive, stationed in the 74th Precinct.

Gethin is of more help. He manages to dredge up several names of people that may know some things in Volg Hive. In particular, he gets the name of Captain Buster Huxley, a PDF officer involved in the semi-legal smuggling of arms within Volg.

It's considered semi-legal since, generally, the planetary Governor wants the citizens of Volg armed, even if it's with the PDF's guns, to protect the hive from what dwells beneath it. Huxley is probably not an out-and-out criminal, likely following orders regarding the distribution of weaponry.

[Tome]

Interrogator Zane Valiant

"Gethin, my friend, we will always need bigger guns" Zane teases as he leafs through what the other Acolytes have managed to translate so far. One line gives him pause. "Hang on, vaccinating against the Warp? That's got to be a metaphor... I think. Either way, might want to bring some blessed bullets, just in case".

Rolling Forbidden Lore (Warp) to see if Zane can think of any way that could be literally true.

[roll0]

Zane is also going to have a poke around the ship at some point, see if he can't lay in a couple of items based on his predictions.
Panimmune (Inquisitor's Handbook pg. 130), 1 Dose - Automatic
Dreamjuice (Daemon Hunter pg. 73), 4 doses - [roll1]

And we'll also see if Zane was issued with some slightly more effective truth serum by the Inquisitor.
Truth Revealed (Book of Judgement pg. 71), 1 Dose - [roll2]

[Caimheul]

Magos Biologis Johann Syme

"Hmmm... I would contest that at a certain stage in an escalation of weaponry we would reach the point of diminishing returns, putting more energy into the weapon than can be justified by the damage it causes our enemies. Additionally, to the best of my knowledge, current Imperial technology is limited to reducing a planet to cinders or barren rock, although with the Omnisiah's blessings it may be possible to create a weapon that would cause a star to go supernova, destroying the majority of a solar system, and rendering it nigh uninhabitable. However it would be difficult to utilize such a weapon without causing one's own destruction unless..." the tech priest trails off, gazing upwards, mechanical eyes whirring as they change focus, his unaltered left hand stroking the respirator that has become the lower half of his face in an old habit.

[bluntpencil]

I am giving a circumstantial bonus to the Interrogator's roll, based on his past experiences, as well as his position as an Ordo Malleus operative. +10, enough to pass, only just.


Interrogator Valiant has heard of some Radical operatives of the Ordo Malleus using individuals that had been victims of possession in the past as weapons against the daemonic. Apparently, they often had some resistance to it, sometimes, having already fought against corruption and developed something of an immunity to it.

He can't think of any specific examples, however, as this is generally kept very quiet, and it may, in fact, be untrue.

There are, of course, other tales involving the use of the Warp against the Warp, trapping daemons and using them to banish others of their ilk, but that's terrifyingly dangerous, disturbingly Radical, and largely irrelevant to the texts studied.

Or is it? The inspiration of the Tarot still hangs over Valiant's head, and flashes of the future (or maybe the past) seem to offer him guidance.


+++

Some time later, the Loyal Dromedary entered a lazy orbit around the vile Fenksworld. The Captain, Captain Julian Tybalt, a distant cousin of Raltus, invited the Throne Agents for a private meal before they set off on one of his many shuttles, heading directly for Volg Hive.

Assuming the Agents accepted his offer (they had time to kill, after all, having been given more than enough time to prepare), he met them in one of his parlours, away from the hustle and bustle of the ratings and other officers.

"I know little of why you're going to Volg Hive, friends. I won't ask, as I know that if you told me, you'd have to kill me.

I just wanted to wish my cousin good luck. Our lords on Terra can often be harsh taskmasters, but it is for the good of humanity, whatever it is you are doing, and I, a humble hauler Captain, salute you."
He seemed genuine, and was very amiable to any friendly conversation from the Agents, even the conversation from the less personable individuals. He seemed to have gone all-out for this meal too, saying,

"Courtesy of our Lord Enoch,"
as if the Inquisitor had ordered that his servants be given the finest of food and drink before their mission.


+++

Soon after, the team were taken to their shuttle, and flown down, expertly, to Fenksworld, into the dreaded Volg Hive.

Now, the Interrogator and his team sit in the back of their shuttle, in a relatively anonymous docking bay, awaiting the local customs officials. They had all the correct papers, and they were, in fact, actually legitimate.

Raltus (under a pseudonym, of course), and his advisers, were seeking out contracts for the Tybalt family, and their ship, the Loyal Dromedary, in Volg Hive.

After fifteen minutes or so, a horn sounded, indicating that it was time for them to leave the shuttle, and speak to the border control agents. Emperor only knew how bad this Hive was going to be...

[DrK]

The Evening

Gethin enjoyed the meal immensely. From everything he had heard about the Fenksworld, food not being something the hive world was renowned for. Though he drank his fill and ate beyond it, filling his pockets with some choice morsels to take down to the planet with him, he spoke little.
The grandeur around him making him feel most unworthy.

The Landing

Gritting his teeth as the shuttle crashed through the massively polluted atmosphere he looked at the others. "Hope the Emperor's blessing can penetrate these smog clouds". A hand resting on the heavy gun barrel and the hilt of the chain blade he looks back to the interrogator "So Master what's the plan for when we get down there?"

As the Shuttle waits for the doors to open he breathes evenly. This seemed better than the drop pods and martyr shuttles that he used to board when he was in the Penal Legion.

When the doors finally open he tries his best not to recoil as the stnch of the sewage processing hive hits his nose. "Remember, on Volg everyone here is corrupt.

Once we make contact with the Enoch's cell we should look up Captain Buster. He may be able to help us out with getting in contact with rather mure dubious people."

[Caimheul]

Magos Biologis Johann Syme

"But if everyone is corrupt, would that not mean that the individuals we are about to contact are therefore corrupt as well as ourselves upon stepping out of the shuttle?" the Magos asks idly, as he goes through the papers ensuring they include a permit for his familiar and a document of pedigree. "Remember Flak, while we are on this planet you were originally a Skitarii Tribune. It might be best if you avoid talking to strangers though, you really are a terrible liar." he says to the silently floating servoskull.

[bluntpencil]

The clerk handling your paperwork narrows his eyes menacingly as he goes through the semi-fraudulent forms. His bald head is covered with, as Gethin notices, penal colony tattoos, the sort that are applied to convicts. It appears that even some of the adepts here are criminals, thrown into Volg Hive from Magnagorsk and Nova Castilia.


"You've clearance for six weeks... just a formality though. Nobody stays that long if they have a choice, sirs. And if they, for some reason, want to stay, they'll likely be dead after three weeks anyway."

His voice is raspy, as if his throat had been utterly burned by the horrible chemicals that you can smell in the air. They smell almost like bleach, actually, masking, for the most part, a stale smell of human waste that seems to pervade even the open landing area.

Soon, approximately fifteen minutes later, a slight, tall figure, wearing the uniform of a servant of House Tybalt approaches you, scowling at the grim guards that slowed him down.

He introduces himself to Raltus, although he intelligently does not say any names, probably assuming that you may be using secret identities,


"My lords, I am Jonathyn Sayle. I am to convey you to your accommodations in the so-called Upper Hive, or to assist you in reaching any alternatives you have decided upon."

As he speaks, he produces a parchment, identifying himself as a ranking servant of House Tybalt. It appears to have a gene-coding chip, but this would need to be verified. Raltus has heard his name before; apparently he's a reliable sort, and works on Fenksworld because he gets paid well.

[DrK]

Gethin looks at the guard smirking slightly at the satisfaction of being free form the horrors of the penal legion, a hand straying to the almost telltale scars around his neck from years of wearing the explosive collars of the penal battalions.

As Sayle approaches and invites them onwards he nods and silently follows them. THe servo skull slightly unnerving him. In his years it hadn't been unknown for some of his fellow conscripts to vanish and reapper as grinning servo skulls when the Adepts of the Omnissah visited the barracks. Staring at the floating skull he wonders where the Tech Priest had acquired it.

"Sayle." he begins "Can you arrange transport for us? We shall need a skimmer or hover vehicle of some kind. We aren't walking in this soup" he mutters pointing at the thick toxic fogs.

[bluntpencil]

The servant nods, and leads the cell towards a remarkably regal-looking hover-car, covered in wrought-iron decorations, some of which are reasonably tastefully gilded.


"Such transport is rare here. The people here are poor; anyone with the power and wealth to have such generally use it to leave, sirs."
There is no driver already present, though. Sayle himself takes the controls, and activates the anti-grav plates, then lets the steam powered propeller get started.


"Where to, milords? The Upper Hive, or elsewhere?"

[DrK]

Gethin looks to the others before shrugging and thinking that he may as well go with his own plan. "District 16 watch office. Captain Buster's district. I would have words with him.

Barring that a nasty Volg Den with some criminals and a fighting pit. I would imagine there are many of them here... He grins as he looks out at the massive sprawl of sewage reprocessing centres and toxi smog shrouded spires.

[Caimheul]

Magos Biologis Johann Syme

The magos nods at the soldier's suggestion of destination. "Likely as good a place as any for us to begin. Although I have found that fighting pits are a good place for me to practice my trade. Flak does on occasion get lonely..." Johann trails off as the lenses of his augmented eyes whir, as if having difficulty focusing, surgical blades extending and retracting on his right hand.

[bluntpencil]

Sayle looks a little disturbed as the Magos talks about his servo-skull, as if it were a pet. Nonetheless, he manages a tiny, polite smile, even if it is very strained.


"Of course, sirs, we can stop by the District Sixteen Watch Station, in the middle-hive, en route to the accommodation I have arranged for you."
He ushers the cell into his hover-vehicle, then gets its ramshackle form to chug along to the Watch Station with surprising speed. He sits and chats amiably to any that sound interested, talking about the happenings on Fenksworld.


"Things here in Volg Hive seem calmer than usual these days actually. People seem just a little less on edge, you see. Maybe less people have been incarcerated here recently, with better conditions in Nova Castilia driving less people to crime?"

Eventually, after about thirty minutes of travelling over the most foul of hives, armed gangs of what could be either Enforcers or criminal thugs either patrolling most areas with suspicious, mad eyes and large, but shoddy-looking, firearms. They slink across the gangways, under which flow rivers of either filth or chemicals, depending on the location. You can always tell based on the smell. Sometimes the city smells like human waste, at other times this stench is masked by the overpowering scent of cleaning chemicals, a scent akin to bleach.

Occasionally you see the city's workers, in their bright orange hazard suits, probably used to prevent acid burns, or the spread of disease, or something. Even these individuals are armed, with various pistols strapped to their sides, hands worriedly resting on them as if an attack could come at any moment.

Jonathyn points out that, in spite of them looking afraid, they're probably less worried than normal.


"Normally, their pistols would be drawn, you see. Guns in holsters is an unusual sight here in Volg."

On arriving at the Watch Station, which looks more like a small fortress, actually, he carefully deactivates the engines, murmuring thanks to their spirits. He leads you out, and up to the gate of the Watch Station, or Watch Fort as it should probably be called.

The gate is flanked by large, brass Imperial Eagles, remarkably clean, in fact, probably because they are dripping with condensation from the fumes of the hive's purification plants.

The guards, heavily armed with autoguns and armoured with rough-looking carapace armour, look wary at the approach of strangers, lifting their weapons ever so slightly higher, as if expecting some form of trick or attack.

Jonathyn obviously doesn't know what to do here, and looks at the cell with an extremely forced smile...

[Caimheul]

Magos Biologis Johann Syme

"Besides the comfort they may have from carrying around a readied weapon, I can't imagine they benefit too much. I postulate that the weapon interferes with their duties when drawn, and since the average human draw time is approximately 1.533333333333 seconds, much slower than a bullet or las bolt, the difference would likely be negligible. Their work must not be too important or I would imagine they would be accompanied by a weapons servitor... Unless that's why they aren't guarded..." the magos babbles again, not really addressing anyone as he studies the workers for their potential future as servitors, considering the best location to attach certain systems given their body types.

[DrK]

Gethin watches the foetid chemical works float beneath him as he studies the dispossessed and surly workforce. A breeding ground for all manner of heretical cults. Unhappy with their lit in being sentenced to the toxic hellhole of fenksworld through no more a crime than tge inconsequentualmusfirtune of their birth.

As they land hes quick to thumb the starter motor on the finely honed chainsword and monitor the charge level of his powerpacks. Approaching the guards.he smiles a sour unhappy grimace. we are looking for Buster. Church business.

[bluntpencil]

The guards, faces hidden by dark visors, don't move an inch. You hear a voice coming from one of them, which you hear in a loud, confused audio as it is picked up by their microbeads' and projected from the loud-hailers on their shoulders, which leaves you wondering which man actually spoke.


"Captain Buster is in the precinct at present, which is off-limits to outsiders. Do you have an appointment and identification?"
They don't appear friendly, that's certain. But then again, everyone that you've seen on Fenksworld so far, Sayle excepted, seem like right grim bastards.


Okay, an appropriate social skill here would be good. Feel free to include appropriate Peer talents, such as Enforcers and Underworld.

Also, sorry for lack of updates, was hoping for other players to chip in some more first.

[DrK]

Gethin rubs a hand over the bald head, his scalp with a hint of stubble. Looking at the enforcer he feels unfazed, the over confidence of hundreds of pit fights leaving him happy that he could crush the small time cop should the need arise.

"I said get the Captain now..." the words lower this time and tinged with threat. "It will be in his interest. for his hobby". ...


Ah social skills!
Intimidate + peer (underworld) TN 38 [roll0]

As for the game if its just me and Caimheul,,, could we upgrade by a few thousand xp to be a daring duo.

[bluntpencil]

The two guards pause, and look at each other, holstering their shotguns simultaneously, then drawing a heavy-headed mace each, which sparks to life quickly.

Again, the voices are heard in tandem, on account of their radios and hidden faces. One of them pushes a button on his collar, probably requesting assistance from inside the precinct.


"You're a visitor, ain't you, boy? If you don't turn around, you'll be staying in Volg permanently, doin' penal duty in water processin'."


Willpower check for Gethin, due to threat of imprisonment. +30 bonus, since it's only a threat at present, and possibly easily avoided.

[DrK]

I'll just do my WP test quickly.

[roll0] VS 58

Man did I blow that other roll!

[DrK]

The balding pit fighter leans forward, his mouth widening into something close to a snarl. "Out of my way punk. Get the captain or get out of my face lest I tear it from your stinking skull."

He did not respond well to the threat of imprisonment and his hand clutched onto the hilt of the chainsword. Looking about he judges how many enforcers are nearby. The threat of the penal colony not sitting well with him.

[Caimheul]

Oblivious to the threatening nature of the two guards, Johann attempts in his own way to intercede. "Pardon me gentlemen, but I must ask that you refrain from damaging this specimen, I hope to make a fine servitor out of him one day. Could you possibly inform the captain that a Magos Biologis is awaiting his pleasure? I hope he doesn't keep me waiting too long, the last time I got bored... well..." as he trails off Johann extends his surgically implanted scalpels and taps them against Flak's head impatiently.

Right, not really sure what would be appropriate here, but since Johann is equally untrained in all of the social skills.... Let's go with Deceive! [roll0]

EDIT: MWHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA let's hear it for the creepy tech priest!




@DrK: Regarding the daring duo comment from earlier.... that would make talking to people.... interesting. Interrogation on the other hand would be bad cop, cop interested in dissecting the suspect to see if their corruption takes any physical manifestations... :smalltongue:

[bluntpencil]

With both Gethin and Johann offering lies and threats, the guards back off, but don't deactivate their weapons. They look at one another, and mutter, again in audio, before they beckon that you all follow, their shoulders slumped slightly in embarrassment.

They lead you through an old, well-used precinct, fitting the standard mould that these things tend to do. Sure, it makes for predictable defences, but that hardly helps with walls several feet thick, and plenty of kill-zones for short-ranged, automatic weaponry.

You quickly arrive at an old, worn door, which was probably once an expensive wood, but has had most of its panelling replaced with synthetic materials or cheap metals. On the door, a brass sign reads 'Captain Huxley'.

The guards knock, announcing the presence of a Magos of the Adeptus Mechanicus.

After a minute or so of hearing what sounds like frantic movement behind the door, there is an electronic buzz, and the door swings open, revealing a surprisingly well-appointed office, with a chubby figure behind a desk, smoking a fat cigar. He smiles as he puffs smoke in the poorly ventilated room...


"A Magos of the Adeptus Mechanicus? I did not expect one of your station here!"


Remember, rolling high is good, target 100.

Also, Scrutiny checks please! +20 for both Gethin and Johann, since Gethin knows about the Underworld here, and Johann knows about the Ad Mech.

[DrK]

Gethin scowls at the enforcers as he pushes through the precint fortress. As he walks he keeps note of the way and aby other salient features like cells, barracks or armoury lest things get dicey while talking to Captain Buster.

Seeing the Captain sat like some sort of crime lord in his plush office Gethin is immediatly suspicious as he stares around taking in all the details of the room and the fat greedy looking makn behind the desk.


Scrutiny [roll0]


Gethin smiles, well as much as he can do before speaking "Buster we're hoping you can help us with some business? the emphasis on business clear that its othing legitimate...


Charm! Oh dear Gods rally....
[roll1]

[bluntpencil]

Captain Buster Huxley leans back, looking unimpressed as he chews on the end of his cigar.

"What sorta business? What does a Magos an' his muscle want wi' me, huh? I'm an officer o' the law, not some twobit salesman..."
True, he makes it obvious he's talking crap, but he's also making it obvious that he doesn't want to give away his game to the wrong people.

[DrK]

Gethin snarls slightly at the overweight fat corrupt oaf. "Watch your tongue. Lest the magos choose to tear it from your throat.

You trade, you trade cheap guns but you lack ammo. The magos can supply such. If you can supply us with information?


The balding pitfighter stands arrogantly, leaning back slightly allowing the Captain to clearly see the large bulges of ammo magazines and charge packs. Gethin has no shortage of ammuntion.

[bluntpencil]

The fat cop loosens his collar a little, but doesn't seem entirely fazed. Not entirely. Realising that he might be able to wrangle some help out of these people, his voice takes on a much more formal tone.

"That's funny, mister. I don't need ammunition so much these days. Ammunition expenditure in my precinct is down fifty-three percent this month. My... ahem... detectives report a similar situation in the gangs of the Underhive, reporting the discovery of large caches of shells and rounds.

In fact, I would likely need someone to reduce the supply of ammunition to the workers and gang members here in Volg. Normally, supplying them with arms prevents... things... from overflowing into the water treatment, but, right now, well... that seems to be less of a problem. They may decide to use their guns for other purposes.

I could probably get more information if this problem was dealt with... either limiting their supply of arms, or removing any chance of the treatment facilities coming under threat in some other way."
So, for some reason, there appears to be less monsters in Volg, and the gangs are left with nobody to fight...

[Caimheul]

The Magos stands, quietly observing the exchange, determining his role in Gethin's deception. "Hmmm... Of the two, it may prove easiest to remove a number of the stockpiles your detectives have located. Any efforts to make the treatment facilities more secure in my estimation would not preclude the possibility of them coming under threat, unless you have a suggestion?" While he speaks, Flak subtly scans the room for any recording devices or hidden weapons.

Tech-Use: [roll0]

[DrK]

Gethin looks at the Magos nodding as well. At the Captain's words he smiles a wide smile. "Well Captain, the Emperor's tarot has dealt you a fine hand today. You tell us where a stash of this illicit ammo is. We will will remove it.

Then we will deal. The first one is free. The second will cost you."

Gethin smiles at the Captain, the broken teeth, many sharpened to fine points give a sharklike grin...


Oh good god a charm!
[roll0] including my peer [underworld]

[bluntpencil]

The captain looks at Gethin and the Magos with an exasperated look on his face.

"You misunderstand me..."
He stubs out his cigar into a metal ash tray, obviously irritated.

"Removing a store of arms or two will make no difference. I want the supply reduced. I've stopped some of the supply, but the rest is proving difficult, as I don't wish to offend the Machine Cult..."
He pauses, looking at Johann pointedly.

"...a Magos would not have such trouble, however."

[DrK]

Gethin nods at the Captain. "Well Buster... How about you let us know what's going on with at least one distribution network and then we can take it from there."

The question is innocous as Gethin looks about for the Captain's cigars, and if he sees them will help himself to one and light it happily.

[Caimheul]

Johann nods thoughtfully. "Yes that does make more sense." He tilts his head toward the servo skull as if listening to it. "Good point my friend. Is this supplier you are asking us to disable operating with the blessings of the Church? Even as a Magos, operating counter to the will of the Machine Cult can be... inconvenient." As he utters the last word, Johann extends one of the blades on his finger and pointedly taps Flak.

[DrK]

Gethin smiles at his magos companion. "Magos - perhaps you can do the seaching and I can do the crushing. THen we won't be offending the great Machine God."

Looking back to the Captain. "Give us directions and we'll be about our business." His knuckles crackle ominously as he flexes large pit-honed muscles.

[Caimheul]

"Gethin, if we thought for a second this task would offend the Ommisiah, well, our response woud be... unpleasant for all invoved. My concern is for the enemies we may be making within the priesthood. The added hinderance that such an individual could cause is unlikely to be overcome utilizing your normal... methods. " Johann responds neutraly.

[DrK]

Gethin smiles all the more. "Let 'em come. Anyway Capt' Buster. Where are we going to? No time like the present."