Rogue Trader: Koronus Unbound IC

[The Architect]

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'Koronus Unbound'


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++ {BEGIN TRANSMISSION} ++
++ {TIME-STAMP 816.M41.003}++
++ {THOUGHT FOR THE DAY: 'Some Things Just Aren't Meant To Be Questioned. Most Things Actually'} ++

Click-clack goes the cogigator.
Beep-beep goes the helm's station.
Shh-thump goes the screen blast coverings.

The Ebon Glaive is a rumbling ancient mechanical archon of the void. It is a city with a beating heart of plasma fire, filled with symbiotes of bone and sinew. The scrambling things run within the capillaries of plastisteel that fill its super structure. There all yells and shouts to men slick with sweat and grease who pull the titan's bones into place, who flick the toggles on the old god's organs, who sing songs of techno-lingua into the terminals of its nervous system. The Ebon Glaive is its own blade, it tears holes in all that is, slipping through the wound into the un-space of a hellscape. It is Orpheus who walks boldy into Hades.

A servitor's head, a skull with bionic eyes and the last feathered straps of worn flesh stretched over its cheekbones, spins on its neck to face the raised walkway and dais of the Captain's obsidian and red velvet throne "translation is set to initiate in sixty Terran seconds. Arms crew and Infernus detachments are the only crew currently moving between compartments. Kill-on-sight curfew is in place until the all clear is given."

Above the raised dais of the Captain's throne two staircases run along the walls forming a gold banister rimmed crescent, at the zenith of which was a large feminine robed marble statue which reached out over the cavernous leveled space of the bridge, her hands held together with her palms facing upwards upon which sat a large black orb which seemed to shimmer as if it was a ball of floating oil, but which in another light was etched with the faintest of geometric patterns and hexogrammatic wards. There was a growl of auto-pneumatics and a third eye carved of brass, with silver filigree, opened slowly on the statue's forehead. A moment later a silver walkway extended downwards from the space within the eye and with a clink stopped just a step before the black sphere. The sphere itself seemed almost the size of a fighter-interceptor's cockpit.

The statue's eye was a black void until one could see the flicker of candle light come slowly forward. Novices of House Modar held candelabra, crouching as they emerged from the eye, taking up vigil along the walkway. There were only a half dozen of them, and many a voidsmen wondered with how thin that walkway was how none had ever fallen over the edge and crashed to the floor of the bridge so very far below. The half dozen began to mumble something which slowly became a hymn in High-Gothic as a figure emerged from the eye. The walkway was now cramped, with the seventh figure having only just enough room to walk between the novices without pushing them off the walkway. When she stepped from the darkness onto the ramp there voices rose and they bowed their heads as she passed.

Several voidsmen had openly asked what possible purpose such a grandiose display served, or why railings weren't installed as a precaution, to which a young novice had supposedly responded that if you couldn't trust the Navigator to walk in a straight line, or for the novices to not fall over themselves, you probably shouldn't trust the Navigator to lead you through hell itself.

A slit opens in the orb, revealing a throne of cables and neuro-jacks within, with the innards of the orb almost entirely covered by esoteric linking devices for the Navigators nervous system. The cables and wires lining the inner shell made the cramped space seem almost organic, like a machine-womb; the suspension fluids that would flood the orb the moment it resealed behind the Navigator to oxygenate the her lungs while lessening the physical stresses of leading warp travel would do little to lessen this metaphor.

Lord-Captain Verata sat upon her throne, Engiseer-Prime Novem resided in the Geller field generator as he made quintuple and sextuplet checks of the Machine-Spirits ordained to ensure the safety of the Ebon Glaive within the Emphyreaum, Helmswoman Wake sat at a terminal just below the captain's dais going over the warp window entrance trajectory calculations, Astropath-Transcendent Caius led his handful of retainers and apprentices in the reciting of the fourth catechism of abjuration and purification of intrusion within their sanctum just above the bridge and Seneschal Zollin stands just behind the throne awaiting the first problem he'll need to step in and solve.

So begins the voyage...

The fate of over a hundred thousand souls, if not close to many times that number in truth, rest on the shoulders of Lady Ambrell of House Modar.

If speaking OoC or Rolling dice in this thread ALWAYS spoiler it.

Sorry to start this off with one person rolling but that's warp travel for you, maybe you'll get lucky and have to deal with a demon incursion immediately after this.

If any of you do want to post before Retrokinesis gets the chance to you can, and describe entering the bridge if you wish even if I mentioned you being somewhere else in the ship, but barring something cataclysmic this scene will end when she rolls so you might want to keep it to the sort of 'make it so' kind of bits and less starting a proper conversation. This introduction post was largely just to set the tone. :smalltongue:

Yeah, so we're pretty much going to start with Ambrell getting into her orb and guiding the ship through the warp to The Temple, and then to Footfall from there.

Roll me the following (Note you get a bonus +5 to Navigation (Warp) Tests, not included below, due to the Bridge Componet):

Navigation (Warp) Test @ Ordinary (+10) Difficulty
Awareness or Psyniscience Test @ Ordinary (+10) Difficulty; for every degree of success add +10 to further Navigation (Warp) checks, for every degree of failure take a -10 penalty.
Perception or Psyniscience Test @ Ordinary (+10) Difficulty
Navigation (Warp) Test @ Ordinary (+10) Difficulty
Roll a d100 three times, or instead roll a 1d100+20 three times if you succeeded on the above Perception Test
Perception or Psyniscience Test @ Hard (-20) Difficulty

[Retrokinesis]

Ambrell passed the bowed acolytes and takes her place on her own throne. It might not be as nice as the Lord-Captain's but it was hers. The momentary pain as the neuro-linkages connect her to the Glaive is nothing as her awareness expands to all-encompassing.

The third eye in her forhead opens as the Void falls away. She stands alone on a moss-choked rock, the black waves battering her frail form. Staring into the empyreal sky, she looks for the shining light of the Astronomicon to guide her through the storm.

The cogitators translate her musings to the bridge console:

++TRANSLATION IMMINENT++
++look-out-beyond-the-belt-of-vapor-beneath-us-into-the-sea++
++LOCATING ASTRONOMICON. POINT OF NO RETURN++
++a-flood-of-golden-glory-along-the-black-walls++
++BEGIN+
Navigation (Warp) roll v. 59: [roll0]
Psyniscience roll v. 53: [roll1]
Psyniscience roll v. 53: [roll2]
Navigation (Warp) roll v. 59: [roll3]

[roll4][roll5][roll6]

Psyniscience roll v. 53: [roll7]

[The Architect]

21 Hours Later

The ship shudders back into reality with a keening screech, which despite lacking a medium, reverberates in the void.

Immediately Lady Modar begins to prepare for another jump, having just completed her first in record time. If it wasn't for the fact she knew she wasn't even half way through the journey she might even feel relieved. Then she felt it, like a ring latching around the ship that was an extension of herself, a light level graviton field, a planetoid, barely. The ship had emerged just within the close range gravity field of one of the larger smooth orbs that make up the Temple. A system where smooth titanic white orbs circle the cinder of a barely still living star.

There is a groan from the super-structure of the ship as the voidsmen easily begin to steer the craft away from the gravity well.

The first jump is complete, now to Footfall.

A safe journey, and one which was sadly uneventful.

I was actually almost hoping you guys would have to deal with warp stuff.

The jump to Footfall is the same difficulty only shorter so roll those again Retrokinesis, sorry about the quiet start guys. :smalltongue:

[Retrokinesis]

So far, so good. Once more into the breach.
Navigation (Warp) roll v. 59: [roll0]
Psyniscience roll v. 53: [roll1]
Psyniscience roll v. 53: [roll2]
Navigation (Warp) roll v. 59: [roll3]

[roll4] [roll5] [roll6]

Psyniscience roll v. 23: [roll7]

[Glarx]

Booooooooooooored. With a great big sigh, the Lady-Captain splashed around in her clawed bathtub petulantly. Warp travel was boring. She was hurtling through the Immaterium, passing through a plane of existence so alien as to literally give birth to Chaos Incarnate, protected by a thin membrane that could easily falter at any moment, and she was bored.

The master bathroom in the Lady-Captain's Manse was expansive. White marble with black veins, a chandelier, enormous mirrors, heated floors... it was a decadent reminder of what her family had once been. The masters of the universe, the shining sword of the Emperor of Man, taming frontiers and establishing footholds for the guiding light of Terra. And now what were they?

"A single woman splashing around," she answered moodily, frowning at her reflection in the polished platinum faucet. She blew away an errant bubble and groaned. Booooooooored.

But what an experience! To be bored again! To have the time and the luxury, free from the tyranny of fear for long enough to feel bored! To be done with grief enough that boredom could take root! "That's the trick of it, isn't it? You know there's something on the horizon... but it's just far enough away that you can't be excited and anxious for it anymore. Just... passing the time before it happens." Oh Throne's Bones, I'm actually monologuing to myself! She sank under the bubbly surface of the water and exhaled through her nose.

Draining the water and drying herself off, staring into the mirror, Chelsea considered what to do. Obviously P3X-451 needed to be catalogued, that was the purpose of the voyage. She expected to find something big, something ancient, and she knew it would be worth far more than the Mechanicus was going to give her for it. Chelsea went stepped out to her bedroom, wiggling her toes in the plush rug before moving over to the cold stone of her closet's floor. She selected a sensible dress with minimal ruffles and shoes to match, and then returned to the bathroom. The heavy thoughts of probable outcomes continued to weigh on her mind.


As she began the ritual of putting on her makeup, the woman known as Jinx weighed the potential options that might be ahead of her. What should she do about it? Would she leverage the goodwill of the Mechanicus for future earnings? Or lie about finding anything and obliterate any scouts the Mechanicus might send out in response?

"What don't I know...?" she mused, worrying her eyelids with a brush. Monologuing, her inner voice chided. Clenching her jaw, Chelsea went back to planning. Charting the warp route to the system, that would be easy. Ambrell could do that in her sleep -- although she'd better not be sleeping, the inner voice growled. Chelsea waved that away with the motion of her eyeliner. Mapping the system could take a while, but the arboretum would extend their banks to a year. Surveying the worlds and mapping the system would be difficult, but not impossible. The auspex was designed for orbital bombardment, after all -- recording the findings wouldn't be as precise as the Mechanicus wanted, no doubt, but it would be enough for their purposes.

Then again... if it's a good enough system, we could always set up a little colony, she mused, glancing over her face one last time before heading out towards the foyer and then to the bridge. "I trust we aren't hurtling off into a star?" she asked good-naturedly to someone nearby, smiling towards them. It was good to provide an air of... civility. Of friendliness. And whenever one of them displeased her, she'd have him publicly eviscerated. That's what they call leadership.

[Inspector Valin]

"Not when I last checked, ma'am."

The navy-clad young Helmswoman chuckled, looking up from her position beneath the Captain's Throne. She raised her off-hand as she did so, brushing her hair back from her eyes, her superior's words bringing the ex-officer back to reality. Commander Wake's mind was still wrapped in thruster and gravimetric calculations; flickering into her brain through her wrist's golden MIU jack. Calculating the physical side of warp travel might not have the importance a Navigator's role holds, but it was still somewhat exacting. Still, it was good to have the Captain on the Bridge for the transition to Warp; it drove home that everyone was in this together. Lady Chelsea might not be Navy, but she was doing things pretty smoothly as far as Scythia could tell.

At least we're past Wander. The thought of the great spaceport fading far behind them warmed the Navy-Girl's heart. That place might've been the most depressing assignment she could consider having. And she'd just left Sinophia! The prospect of a Navy station had sounded like a good thing to Scy. But if she had to walk into one more Navy taphouse, only to listen to serviceman after serviceman complain about the station, she might just have snapped. One of the most secure positions outside of the Maw, no time spent at Warp, and those 'officers' felt like this was a bad deal?

Too much like home.

Leaning back in her own more humble throne, Scythia tapped at her console with her off-hand. Old habits die hard; her cybernetics might be instantaneous, but reflexes had her manipulate her viewscreen by hand. "We're halfway through our journey, sitting at the Waystation, with everything quiet. No disturbances anywhere in the system. It's nice to see things going smoothly for a change. We'll be initiating the second Warp Jump in no time"

The young officer took a deep breath as she glanced up towards the statue overhead, and the Navigator's orb. The transition would hit any time now, and whilst the Gellar field had nothing to do with the Navi... that didn't help. Lady Ambrell was the figure who was supposed to guide them, keep them safe through the Warp. She was the one who would find the paths of least resistance through the Warp Storms, the one who'd steer them away from the horrors of the Warp. Their defence from the greatest horrors of the void lay in her hands, as it always did.

You're doing well so far, mi'lady. Please keep it up.

[The Architect]

++ The Second Jump ++

Five days the Navigator had said confidently. The warp had been calm and stable on the way to The Temple, but even on a more average day the second leg should take less than a week, she had estimated.

Another boring week.

It was on the third night that the dreams came.


The Lord-Captain dreamed of a beautiful woman who was her, and her cousin Merida, and her father. Then as it goes in dreams she knew it was not a beautiful woman, and so it became a many headed hydra and every face was that of a Verata who fell in the purge, and every face was screeching "take the prize, but count the cost, the beast may rise, but the child is lost!" When the Lord-Captain awoke blood trailed down from her nose and she could have sworn her reflection in her mirror, just for a moment, was her mother's.

The Engiseer Prime coughed up mud and realized instantly that he had reacquired organic lips. He did not realize it was a dream. He knew where he was before he looked up. A set of binary distant white dwarf hung half alive in the dirty brown sky and cement walls reached high all around the football field sized enclosure. One could say he was within what passed for a school on a penal colony. An older boy who's name the years had stolen from him brought a boot down on his skull shouting something about Nine being an orphan. Novem remembered he had not used the name Nine in quiet sometime. There was a voice in the distance, and Novem recognized the thick guttural tones as that of a Scintillan. "The parents were tried in abstentia," said the disembodied Scintillan voice, in the same way another man might describe the weather. Another voice responded and Nine recognized the artificially perfect elocution as that of a Scholar Progenium graduate "I did not come half way across the Calixis Sector to be told I was led to believe you held the Alec Teague due to a clerical error. One does not falsify such documents easily, nor misread them. Alec Teague was here, so was his wife, and you have his son. Now tell me if you wish to retain your spinal column as an internal feature of your anatomy, what happened?" With that Novem shuddered awake with a strangely human reaction. He touched his hand to his forehead and felt the runnels of blood running down from a fresh heel shaped wound.

The Navigator, Lady Modar, felt Footfall resting at the end of a great river that grew and grew beyond her, ever father from her than she thought, and when she woke within her sanctum she felt an incredible wave of guilt.

When Marcus Caius, the Astropath Transcendent, dreamed his visions were random and symbolic as his very soul rebelled against the visions' source. There was a tall figure with a raven's skull for a face looming over Lord-Captain Verata's unclothed form, he brought an athame, which pierced her chest through the sternum. The Rogue Trader laughed and laughed, cackling, and only then did Caius see she was bathed in blood, bloody Marcus knew was not her own. Her neck snapped around and stared at him, her lips in line with the back of her spine and she mouthed something he could not hear. Then there was darkness, and a fitful dreamless sleep.

Torque dreamed of an Arvus light freighter drifting in the void, a memory. The seneschal dreamed of a women who's mouth was a void filled with stars. Cort dreamed of Footfall.

Scy dreamed of nothing, nothing at all; nothing, at least, she would remember in the morning.

It is the night of the sixth day, past the Navigator's estimate, that she lost focus for but a moment and the ship was hurtled into a warp storm of unmaking chaos...

1. You might want to fix your spoiler tags in your last post.
2. Roll me a Challenging (+0) Navigation (Warp) Test, and a 1d100 four times.

[Toxic Mind]

As Marcus awoke, he knew that something was amiss. His dreams were indication enough, but the revulsion he felt in his soul told him far more than the content of the dream. They had passed too close to something and it had reached out. He would have to find out who among the crew had experienced similar visions. No taint of the warp could be allowed to remain, particularly among his Choir.

He arose, and effortlessly found the door to his room. He called a servitor and gave it a quick command. Find the other members of the Astropathic Choir. And have them all report to me on the bridge. Marcus would check each of them for the same taint he had felt. It was his duty to protect the souls of his crew from the taint of the Warp. He would do his duty. Marcus Caius walked towards the bridge, his apparent lack of sight little hindrance to his progress

[Retrokinesis]

Something was wrong. Ambrell could feel Footfall slipping away from her. As she reached out for it, something snapped. She lost control and the Glaive broke free from her iron grasp.

++WARP STORM DETECTED. SOUND GENERAL DISTRESS++

That would have to be enough warning for the helmsman; she had a storm to tame.
Navigation (Warp) test v. 49: [roll0]

[roll1] [roll2] [roll3] [roll4]

[Glarx]

Delightful dreams. That's it, no more experimenting with cocktails before bed.

Chelsea looked around the bridge from atop her throne, frowning. "Subtle, Ambrell, very subtle." She waited for her crew to do their thing, however. "Make the Emperor proud, men! Cast whatever fears you have out, and remember that His will guides this ship, and His blessing follows us into the heart of the Koronus Expanse! If we must be tested, then we will gladly be tested -- and we shall prevail! All hands, prepare for a disturbance!"

[Rising Chaos]

Cort had awoken with a start, but not a bolt upright sweating kind of start. He simply lay in his bed for a while, looking at the roof and reflecting on his dream. the Arvus, his salvation in the dark, he was surprised he still thought of it after all that time. Footfall was nothing new, he'd been thinking of the station ever since the Lord-Captain announced her intention to make for Footfall... in honesty he was glad to be able to return to his home. It had been so long now since he had set foot there, and he had wondered how the station had changed, how the Void Wyrms had changed...

The woman was new, a mouth full of stars. Just as Cort began to contemplate the meaning of her the alarms sounded, this time making him bolt out of bed. In a few minutes he was in full gear and striding with purpose through the halls, trench vest fluttering behind him. Reaching the bridge he nodded to his fellows and took up his position just behind his Lord Captain, muttering the catechism of protection under his breath.
"It'd be a shame to bite it so close to home" he murmured to Chelsea with a grin, making sure the crew couldn't hear them. No sense in adding panic just after the Captain had rallied them.
"Especially as I'd just finished marking out all the good gang-holes and despots lovely Footfall has to offer..."

[devinebovine]

Upon suddenly awaking, Novem activated his logis implant's self-diagnostic run-times and commanded his servo-skull to run a triple auspex scan. Besides predictable and statistically-irrelevant organic imperfections, he detected no true impurities. Reason and experience informed him that the ship had likely passed through some Warp anomaly which then caused his more-than-life-like dream. The blessedness of reason, however, left him cold. It couldn't easily explain the presence of his new wound. And memories from his childhood were painful, at best. And while the memory felt true, as if from a real memory, he had never known his parents' names. He would have to create a cipher to find the neural cluster that had remained hidden for so long. Neural implants were known to damage memories, and he hoped that his dream stemmed from those. It would be a cause of some concern if that information was not originally stored within his mind.

Having nearly completed his requisite 3.78 hours of sleep, The Enginseer-Prime arose and made his way to the Enginarium. The heat and roar of the sacred machinery calmed his soul. He gently and lovingly caressed a power conduit, then paused to carefully clean off the oils left from his hand. He found his way to an ancient and ornate cogitator console reserved for him alone. He took the holy Communication Appendage extending from the base of his skull and slid the contact into the console. He activated his analytic ciphers which began the routine systems checks, and with the rest of his attention communed with the ancient and wise machine-spirit housed within the great plasma drives. The trouble in his soul was eased in its presence. The horrors it had seen were as nothing compared to his tiny mortal fears. Novem half-mindedly sent an all-clear message to the bridge, and lost himself within the greatness.

++ ENGINARIUM TO BRIDGE
++ BLESSED MACHINE-SPIRIT AT EASE
++ FIND PEACE IN THE EMBRACE OF THE HULL

[Glarx]

Toggling the vox rune to switch off the communications system, Chelsea leaned over to speak softly with the seneschal. "I have faith in our navigator. And if that faith is misplaced, I'll only have a few moments to rue on that fact before we die." She gave a little shrug and a wink before returning to her normal position. With the report from the enginarium, the Lady-Captain permitted herself a little sigh. Hopefully the enormous warship wouldn't explode. What an ignominious end to such a terrific beginning.

[Toxic Mind]

Marcus reached the bridge and moved quickly to his sanctum. His two apprentices waited there, worry etching their auras.

We will discuss this later. For now, you will recite the litany of protection from the warp. Until this crisis is done, you will shield your minds. he sent to his two apprentices.

Marcus Caius was not a man who would lie or dissemble with his apprentices. He told them what they needed to know, and trusted to their own training to purge the fear from them. He would be an anchor during this strife, should they need one. But he had selected these two for their will, and he suspected that they would have handled themselves well enough had he stayed in bed. Later, he would scan their minds for the taint of the warp, and see that it was purged if necessary.

Lord Captain, we await your orders. We are prepared to transmit to the nearest relay outpost if necessary. Should you wish, I am available to discuss dreams, AFTER this crisis is done.

Caius's voice in Chelsea's mind was, as always, deep and calming, much as the man's own voice when he spoke. Even the Captain could sense some strange emotion in his mind, which was worrying in itself, as the Astropath was almost always a calm neutral.

All mind to mind communication will be done in blue italics and identified to differentiate it from thoughts.

[The Architect]

There is a shudder and a boom as the 'Ebon Glaive' cleaves to the edge of a bubble of shattered time amid the layers of the warp. An exploding terminal blasts a voidsmen onto his back and a servitors eyes conflagrates leaving smoking pits in the sockets of its skull.

After a few minutes of roared orders and panic the ship's shudders and groans cease and it appears the Lady Modar has the ship under control once again, and slowly the ship gets back on track, already a day behind schedule.


***

3 Days Later

A tub, full to the brim, and the Captain resting again. All has been quiet since the warp storm, almost... The Lord-Captain suddenly feels a strange sensation in the tub, as if she was lying in syrup rather than water. Her eyes snap open and see the transmutation that has occurred, the warm water of her bath has turned to blood. She glances around the room as if seeking a source, and a source she finds.

Her cousin Merida stands soaking wet on the other side of the room, her white silk dress clinging to her like a second skin, her face a pale lifeless thing. Her mouth moves but the sound seems to reverberate from everywhere "turn back, turn back, turn back, turn back..."

She screams out and combusts, burning up from the inside out before the Captain's eyes...

Roll a Willpower Test at -10, on a failure gain 2 insanity points, this is a Fear test.

~~~

Scythia stands in her chambers staring at a young woman. The young woman stares back at her. The young woman is her, but the woman she stares at is in her night dress, and Scythia is in her naval uniform. They stand to either side of the large mirror hanging on a wall of her chambers.

The mirror is shattered.

She blinks and the girl is gone, and she realizes she cannot remember what she had been wearing before, or which side of the mirror she had been standing on.


***

3 Days Later

Three days pass and whispers of ghosts and fell spirits permeate the upper echelons. Most significant individuals point fingers or dismiss the stories, not because they haven't heard of such warp occurrences, but they had merely become used to ignoring them. Few cared of people seeing ghosts if they had not themselves.

The dreams and the ghosts had become to fuel rumors aboard the vessel. Soothsayers whispered in the corners of the bilge-taverns that P3X-451 was doomed, another said a child had been born on the medic with two heads and no heart, an ill-tiding, and few aboard the 'Ebon Glaive' had not heard of the unsanctioned child psyker that had been discovered and executed on level 34 after she had set fire to a shrine screaming about shattered mirrors and many headed hydras.

It was time though, that was the strangest burden yet. The times worn on, and wore out. Humans you see, strange as they are, have an uniquely odd view of time. They extend and twist it into a straight line that suits their purposes, they put it in boxes and imprison it in clocks. They shatter time to drops and pieces, to be measured out in moments, like obscura in the low-dens.

Time is not so easily imprisoned.

It is Thorsday, and after three days of ghosts the reports dwindle. At first it seems the 'Ebon Glaive' has finally found its respite, but such rests are brief in the warp.

It has been Thorsday for several days. The Captain's nightly hour long bath seems to take minutes, but the meal left outside her bathing chamber has turned moldy and rotted with age. Ratings do not grow hungry, but do not feel full for as long as the cloud tells them they should. They eat a meal at noon and then can consume another at an hour past noon. Without notice the stores begin to rapidly deplete.

The engine screams and pleads to her attends as more energy is drained from certain pockets of the ship than one could ever expect such places would consume. Infernus crews are sent to put out fires but by the time they have arrived whole chambers are burnt out and ruined as if they had been left to fall apart for days.

Time it seems has been told to stop following their Lord-Captain's orders.

If order is not restored the engine could be over taxed, the food stores crippled or worse.

To some minutes feel like hours, to others hours feel like seconds, and to some moments are weeks.

What do you do?


You lose an additional 90 days of stores as your food, water and other resources are rapidly consumed.
You lose [roll0] Hull integrity as your crew fails to properly react to emergency calls.
If you want to stem the chaos before you start losing crew population, morality or worse, describe how you respond and make an appropriate roll, Command (Fel), Tech-Use (Int), etc. Tell me what your base stat for the relevant skill would be if it a Challenging (+0) roll.

[Toxic Mind]

Marcus spends his time pouring through his tomes, and when he finds a relevant work missing, or mysteriously not where he left it, sometimes pouring through his mind, not trusting that such a volume would now be accurate. He works through all he knows on the warp, attempting to find the solution, or at the very least, the source of the current calamity and what might be done to solve it.


[roll0] vs 48
edit: By the emperor, I'll take those 4 degrees all right.


Marcus also Probes the minds of his two apprentices, finding them free (for now) of any warp taint in their minds. He congratulates them on resisting the terrors of the warp, but reminds them to be mindful of further intrusion or taint and to inform him of phenomena immediately.

[Glarx]

Step one: kill Ambrell. Step two: descend into anarchy. Step three: profit. The Lady-Captain rubbed her forehead and exhaled through her nose.

"This is Lady-Captain Chelsea Maria Andrea Rosanna Verata. As some of you may have noticed, we are currently traveling through the Immaterium, and there are just a few minor complications that are coming from this travel. These complications can be traced to a lack of discipline. It is Order that will prevail in these trying times. It is Faith. It is the understanding that the Emperor will guide us through these troubling times. Even now, as we are assaulted by the vagaries of the Warp, His Holy Light guides us and protects us. So long as we are firm in our beliefs, so long as we are devout and observant of our faith, we will prevail through these times!

"Do your duties, men. Continue on. We will prevail through this storm, we will weather whatever the heretical powers of the Immaterium wish to throw our way, because we are the crew of the Ebon Glaive, men! We will cleave through the Emperor's foes, and bring His light to the Expanse!"

That would be a TN 68 command test. Also, I'm giving my +10 bonus per round to Ambrell.

Jinx turned off the comm and rubbed her eyes. "Ambrell, don't let me down. You're the best scion your family has. This is a temporary set-back -- you can still navigate through this hellish storm, I know you can."

[The Architect]

If you want to know how many Astropaths are available on the ship in total roll a 1d10, seeing as you already mentioned two assume the minimum is two.

You may count as having +1 Psy Rating, up to 5, whenever working with other Astropaths in this way.

From marcus' learning he has discovered that while many things are affected by the time dilation, the crux of the effect is the crew's perception of time. Marcus' choir can attempt to psychically link the ship and immure them against the temporal effect causing them to perceive time at the right rate and lessening the effect of the time dilation, allowing the crew to act normally.

You may attempt to navigate the remaining journey by charting a new course, for better or worse...

Yeah, so we're pretty much going to start with Ambrell getting into her orb and guiding the ship through the warp to The Temple, and then to Footfall from there.

Roll me the following (Note you get a bonus +20 (+5 from Bridge, +5 from Ship Role, +10 from the Rogue Trader) to Navigation (Warp) Tests, not included below:[/B]

Awareness or Psyniscience Test @ Ordinary (+10) Difficulty; for every degree of success add +10 to further Navigation (Warp) checks, for every degree of failure take a -10 penalty.
Perception or Psyniscience Test @ Ordinary (+10) Difficulty
Navigation (Warp) Test @ Ordinary (+10) Difficulty
Roll a d100 twice times, or instead roll a 1d100+20 twice times if you succeeded on the above Perception Test
Perception or Psyniscience Test @ Hard (-20) Difficulty

[Inspector Valin]

Scythia shot upright, black silk nightgown having overcome her uniform... or had it? The memory was already distorted, unclear, but the impression had stuck with the Void Master. And she was trembling as she slowly rose to her feet, walking over to the mirror, as though she might find her doppelgänger still lurking within it..

But no. All she saw was Commander Scythia Wake, her blond hair looking dishevelled, long shadows under her eyes and her skin pallid as bone yet caked in sweat. The young Void-Master put a hand to the mirror, reassuring herself of its solidity. A small comfort with the Warp all around them, but the feeling of the great thing; intact and unmoving was a reassurance none the less.

Her dreams were... shifting. First to nothingness, now to this. Scy had expected nightmares; she'd had them ever since she'd left the Thunder. Her conscious mind still couldn't recall what she'd witnessed on that last warp jump, but her unconsciousness was all too happy to whisper just what horrors it'd been forced to put up with. Scythia had expected things to get worse upon returning to the Warp, the dreams to get stronger, more intense. But instead...

She looked again at herself in the mirror, meeting her own light blue eyes with a smile that she couldn't entirely feel. Perhaps she'd have stayed there longer, meditating upon her dream and the possible meanings of it, but Time had other ideas. Her Chrono's harsh beep knocked the young woman out of her reverie. Scy shook her head, sighing, as she lunged towards the sink on the other side of the room. She couldn't let the dreams mess with her head like this. She just didn't have that kind of luxury. She needed to be on the bridge. Needed to help the crew, her captain. Trying to understand just what her strange dreams meant could wait.

Forbidden Lore: Warp, to interperate this vision [roll0] TN40

Unfortunately, the coming voyage would not afford Scythia much oppertunity for pondering.

First were the rumours. Senior officer or no, the Chief of Helm overheard her subordinates frequently enough to understand how dire the Glaive's crew had sunk in terms of mood. She was with them in spirit, after all. When her services were not needed on the bridge, Commander Wake could be found in any one of the crew bilge joints, back in her old grey Navy uniform, smiling and laughing with the old timers as she told stories of her past as a Navy brat. She made a point not to approach the crewmembers about duty matters, but the intended message of her actions remained clear. ''We're all in this together. And we'll get through it together, given the Emperor's Grace.

But then, the time dilation set in. And co-ordinating any kind of activity amidst the crew grew from it's traditional mild miracle to a neigh impossibility.

Scy spent those days on the bridge, as much as possible. The company of others seemed to help against the erosion of perception. Her eyes, however, faded into a blank haze, as her mind plumbed the depths of the ship's Cogitators, communing with the Ebon Glaive's spirit through the wonder of her Mind Impulse Unit. With command access, she could control the ship's logs, manually imput new assignments, or broadcast the orders directly over Vox.

The Gellar Field makes the Warp recede through a bastion of reality. Perhaps enforcing unity and continuity amidst the crew might help achieve the same effect.

Using Command to assist the crew as best as possible, serving as a clear authority figure who can keep track of events and focus past the time distortion effect

[roll1] Fellowship is 43, +10 from Talented; Command, and +10 more if the MIU is applicable for this co-ordination..

[Retrokinesis]

This isn't going to work. Ambrell stares unblinking into the very heart of the Warp itself through the observation dome atop the Navigator's Spire. It was a sight that would drive any ordinary man insane but she always found it be to strangely comforting. The first leg of the Warp route had gone perfectly, much better than she had predicted. Perhaps it was only fitting that the second was far worse. She descends from the oculus down into her chambers and, after a quick overlook of the charts and a glass of amasec, heads to the Sanctum.

"Lady-Captain Verata", she speaks into her micro-bead. The clacking of her cane is the only sound in the empty hall. "It is eminently clear that a new direction is needed. While I avoided the worst of that last Warp storm, its wake is blocking our planned route. The empyreal ripples will tear us apart before long. I'm on my way to initiate a new jump now".

By the time she reaches the Sanctum orb, her understudy has already disconnected and waits to assist. Ambrell seats herself on the throne, feeling the cables connect as the sphere closes, and prepares a new plan. With any luck, it would have them free of this anomaly before long.

++UPDATED ROUTE NECESSARY++
++PREPARE TO RECEIVE NEW COORDINATES++
Psyniscience test v. 53: [roll0]
Psyniscience test v. 53: [roll1]
Navigation (Warp) test v. 69: [roll2]

[roll3] [roll4]

Psyniscience test v. 23: [roll5]

[Glarx]

"We're counting on you, Ambrell. Don't let me down." Chelsea sighed and prepared for the worst.

[Rising Chaos]

Cort had heard stories, rumors that there were high-ranking Seneschals known as Masters of Whispers whose knowledge of hearsay and powerful spy networks controlled the crew through fear of retribution and prevented sedition and unrest to spread through a vessel. While he didn't approve of a vessal being in the iron grip of fear and intimidation he had to admit that he wished he possessed some of these skills or resources. He'd spent the last three days travelling the ship, trying to assure workers and dissolve their fears of the unknown. Though he'd kept a cheerful demeanor and helped ease tensions to some degree the Ebon Glaive was so large it was impossible for him to be everywhere at once. The time dilation wasn't helping either, in one instance it had taken him two hours to walk from his chambers to the bridge, an act that normally took five minutes. Now he realized he had gone from one of the workers barracks to a vox-relay in just under thirty seconds. Though he seemed carefree on the outside he was incredibly wary on the inside. This was the first time he had experienced such strange warp encounters and it was slowly beginning to unnerve them.

He shook his doubts aside and focused on his intentions. He had been informed several hours ago (was it several hours? He wasn't sure anymore) that the foodstocks were beginning to dwindle and may even reach critical levels if the time dilation continued. Reaching for the vox-horn he began to relay messages to whichever high-ranking ship workers he could, whether they be Bosuns, line chiefs or supervisor guards. The messages he sent were calm, and collected: The ship was to continue at the same productivity levels, however all officers were ordered to employ a mild ration restriction on themselves and all other crewmen. This was not, Cort emphasized, because of an emergency. Rather it was because he had heard "dozens and dozens" of cases where Ratings were "Using the time dilation as an excuse to stuff their faces with extra food and blame it on the Warp, and if we let that continue next thing you know they'll say their shore leave came early and then rampant anarchy ensues, and that's not a good thing to have to admit when you're sent to the Emperor's side"
Cort made a half dozen or so of these orders, utilizing his easy tones and flattering remarks to keep the workers energized and focused on their duties. After he finished he made his way back to the bridge and took up a position near one of the command cognaters. From there he planned to keep an eye over the ship and make sure his ration orders were being observed.

[Toxic Mind]

Marcus gathered his Choir to him in their sanctum above the bridge. "Brothers, I have seen a solution to our problem. Should we link the minds of the crew together, their perception of time will be united, and thus unalterable by the warp. If we do not do this, I fear the consequences may be dire. Join your minds with mine, and we shall petition the Emperor for his guidance."

++ASTROPATH SANCTUM TO CAPTAIN++
++PREPARING TIME SYNC++

Caius and his choir begin their chant, reaching out through the whole of the Ebon Glaive, gathering up the minds of the crew and binding them together with the thin threads of the Immaterium. It is difficult work, particularly with the already tainted ship. One of Caius' apprentices stumbles, his mind weakening. As he does, an explosion rips through the circle, throwing Caius into the air. He smashes heavily into the ground. An attendant quickly rights him, and he waves the attendant off, his mission is too important to worry about his injuries. The moment passes, Caius breathes a sigh of relief.

You have served the Emperor well today, all of you. Get some rest. I will attend to matters here for now. he flashes to his choir. "Attendants with each of them until they reach their quarters. This was draining on us all." he remarks to the Astropath attendants around the perimeter of the room.

++ASTROPATH SANCTUM TO CAPTAIN++
++TIME SYNC SUCCESSFUL++

Cauis first reaches out and tentatively touches Cort's mind. Senechal Vollin, our time dilation problems have ceased, at least for now. Should further problems be found and claimed to be related to such, they should be treated with the utmost severity. Lying to serve oneself shames the Emperor.

He then reaches out to Jinx. Lord-Captain, there was a brief surge in the warp during the binding. It would be advisable to examine the machine spirits in the immediate vicinity and do what may be done to calm them. My apologies for any problems that may have arose, I did only what I thought was best to save the crew. Our minds are now linked in time, and so problems with time dilation should cease. I will report to the med bay shortly, this exposure has taken its toll on me. Caius finishes the sending and leans heavily on the table. It was a closer thing than he would admit.

[The Architect]

Ambrell:

Ambrell weaves and flows, she is the colossus, she is the behemoth of steel and iron, she is the glaive. In the warp she see the echos of her intentions, she wades through seas of smoke and a sky of broken glass, and finally comes upon the warp reflection of Footfall.

Then the storm turns on her, the backdraft that had so bombarded the ship forming into tendrils of decay, limbs of pain, tentacles of violence, ribbons of entropy. The warp storm claws towards the ship to prevent its final escape!

Make a Challenging (+0) Navigation (Warp) Test to escape the Warp storm and finally the warp.

All Those On The Bridge:

Those on the bridge are directing the newly psychically protected crew and trying, successfully, to bring order again when six hours after the new course had been set the whole craft began to shudder violently. There is a screech and whine as the Geller Field's stress levels shoots into the red.

[Rising Chaos]

Cort was relatively pleased as confirmations from the men came through on the rationing and as he realized the choir had realigned their time stream, fixing the problem from two fronts. 'I suppose I owe the bugger', Cort thought with a grin. He wondered if the Astropath accepted booze as a gift... or if any of his providers on Footfall were still around.

The situation changed rapidly, as the craft shook and the screens before him started to blare red an actual jolt of fear passed through Cort. He had heard all the stories from voidsmen and gangers about the horrors of Gellar field collapse, how in a moment the ship could be overrun and infested with daemons that would eat your flesh and reave your soul to the foul archenemy. Cort had already experienced the foul powers of human chaos worshipers. He had no intention of finding out what horrifying powers their twisted masters possessed.

Vox-horn in hand and fingers blazing across his console Cort began to send copies of the gellar field levels to the rest of the crew and called out orders to the highest ranking workers he could find near the gellar field, urging them to collect their fellows and reach the tech-priests to assist in any way they could. He also tried to contact the supervisors along the ship and ordered them to hail him if they heard even the slightest inkling of foreign entities or anything strange happening on the ship. He refused to let the daemons take him by surprise.

[The Architect]

The Bridge

Cort directs damage control with a practiced skill which did an impressive amount to inspire confidence. While the Gellar field is still less stable than the crew might like Cort's direction leaves the right forces in the right places if anything goes wrong.

Cort senses a connection between every person he encountered, a weave connecting the patterns that are the minds of everyone aboard the ship. There was a disgusting taste at the back of his throat as somewhere deep in the bowels of the ship there was something, human it seemed, that they likely wouldn't want all their minds connected to for long.

Outside the ship Cort felt something ancient and alien, who was named and hungry, he had the sudden unsettling feeling that Warp Storm was no mere storm, and that it did not hunger for flesh or steel but something much more precious...

Going by the book Psyniscience seems to be a sort of sixth sense rather than a knowledge so I'm just treating Cort as being a very low level nascent psyker who gets bad feelings about psychic things.

[Rising Chaos]

Cort was pleased with himself, maybe he wasn't at gang boss level of leadership but he'd done a gakking good job if he said so himself. Just as he was starting to relax he realized the adrenaline in his system must have been affecting him in some way. He felt like he had a bond with the crew, particularly the choir seemed to stand out. Just as he was beginning to ponder this he felt the strange alien presence outside the ship. The sensations of whatever was out there sent a slower, prickling fear through Cort 'Emperor alive what is that!?' he thought to himself.

He didn't know what it was, and he didn't know how he even knew it was out there, but if the thing out there was the cause of the gellar fluctuations he needed to warn the others. As his fingers flew across his cognater console he sent a quick message to Jinx, Marcus, Ambrell and Scythia. The message was short and said the following.
//Be on guard. I'm getting a bad feeling about this, whatever is messing with our dear vessel may be more than just a warp storm//

[devinebovine]

Novem cried silently as the beautiful ship bucked and buckled and the Geller field strained against unrelenting unreality. Reroute power from tertiary reserves and increase the third and fifth contra-inversion fields by 8.927%, he directed to his nearest tech-priests in rapid-fire binary. Support the glorious vessel in its time of strife, and at all costs keep those shields up. He knew his crew was strained from the chrono-dilation, perhaps even more than the fully organic crew. It's one thing to have your biological chronometer be off, another to have your biological and your mechanical chronometers be off.

Quickly chanting the Chatechism of the Perfect Data Interface, he plugged himself into the cogitator and spoke to the machine-spirits that inhabited the Geller field, urging them to double their efforts and stand strong in the face of the Warp.

Tech-Use test vs 61 (Int 51, MIU +10): [roll0]

[The Architect]

Prime Engiseer Novem tackles the rebellious warp forces with an incredible grasp of Geller field technology, re-tuning the Geller field dimensional harmonics in times with the ebbs and flows of the warp currents like a master musician playing the instrument of interdimensional energies, such that he not only prevents intrusion anywhere aboard for the time being, unless Ambrell fails to outrun the storm, but he assists her efforts almost by accident.


Gain an addition +10 bonus to the Navigation (Warp) (Int) Test to escape the Warp Storm.

[Toxic Mind]

Cort felt a familiar touch against his mind, but this time there was a tint to it, a strain that had not been there before. "Senechal Vollin, I may need your assistance. I would not worry my choir with such news, but forging the mind link has taken a severe toll on my body. Something reached out from the void and fought against us, and I have been wounded by the backlash. I shall survive, but I am in no shape for extended combat."

[Rising Chaos]

Cort nods as he receives Marcus's message, though none but him would understand why. 'Of course, I shall have medical teams en route to the choir chamber momentarily. They will be directed to wait outside the chamber until we have either passed through this obstacle or you take any additional wounds. Be on guard Master Astropath, I believe the being that attacked you is the same that attempts to harry our ship'. As he thought Cort send out a response call to alert the nearest medical team to the Astropathic chambers, with orders to hold until Cort had given the word or they heard any cries of distress from inside the room.

[The Architect]

The Astropathic Choir Chamber

A handful of jittery and clearly uncomfortable crewman arrive with first aid supplies after a few minutes and begin tending to the Astropaths. Their unease and fear of the psykers come off them in waves that is the psychic equivalent of a horrid smell that fills the room, something that makes enduring receiving poor quality first aid from one of the young men particularly uncomfortable for the Astropath Transcendent.

Marcus heals 2 wounds.

[Toxic Mind]

"Something harrying the ship?" Marcus thinks to himself upon hearing the Senechal's reply. He calms himself, reaching out with his psychic sense, ever so lightly, attempting to find the source of taint within the ship, or without.

He thanks the medics for their assistance, and quickly sends both them, and the remaining astropaths away before attempting his task. The stench of their fear, both to his nostrils and with his sight, was nauseating. Still, he appreciated what help they had rendered. It certainly eased his wounds somewhat, though he was far from fully healed.


Roll in OOC, was a failure 49 v 39

[The Architect]

Marcus reaches out with his weary mind but feels a moment of confusion, it seems to him that what harries them is 'merely' a warp storm. Marcus guesses that Cort lacks the innate senses or absence of suspicion to differentiate between a true psychic predator and a confluence of violent emotion and warp currents that is a mindless warp storm. Cort, he presumes, sees a demon where there is merely a horrific natural phenomenon.

[Retrokinesis]

Let. Go. Of. My. Ship.

Ambrell punctuates each word with an immaterial blast from her third eye, hammering away at the tendrils of whatever cthonic thing was causing the Warp storm. Or was the Warp storm. It was never really clear in the Immaterium. Regardless, she wasn't going to lose control now.

She was quite glad the Captain wasn't here; she'd never hear the end of it for calling the Glaive her ship, even just to spite the Warp.
Navigation (Warp) test v. 59 (or 69 if I still have the Rogue Trader buff): [roll0]

[The Architect]

Ambrell

Ambrell screams as a hand reaches into her and squeezes tightly on her heart, tears of blood blurring into the fluid of her orb from her eyes. If not for the protective shell of the orb the storm would have killed her. No, it was no storm. It had made a mistake by attacking her now, when she was at her Zenith. It had struck into her, but in doing she had stolen a glimpse at it.

A fragment of its true name burned itself into the corner of her mind, screeching and crawling in her memories like prey caught dying in a trap, it was a wriggling worm in her soul but one had that could do no more harm to her now, what it was though was a weapon... a profane weapon...

Ambrell takes 1 corruption point, 1 insanity point and 2 wounds.

Make a Hard (-20) Navigation (Warp) (Int) Test to escape from the Storm.
Don't forget the total modifier of +20 Bonuses, not included above.

Ambrell may invoke the fragment of the True Name of the Storm to try to force it off the ship, allowing an addition +30 modifier, for a total of (20 - 20 + 30 = +30) +30. If she does this it is just a little heretical and will cause her to gain 1d5 Corruption Points.

~~~

All Others

There is a psychic wave across the vessel as the Navigator, Ebon Glaive and the Storm clash and tear at each other. Several voidsmen clutch at their school and a young voidswomen by the staircase screams and falls to the steps.

Thankfully Novem, and others, actions prevent any actual physical intrusion through the Geller Field by the Storm.

Everyone but Ambrell roll the following;
Cort - Willpower Test @ +10
Marcus - Willpower Test @ + 30
Chelsea, Novem & Scythia - Willpower Test @ + 0

On a failure take 1 Corruption point and 1 Insanity point as the warp storm claws at your mind.

Average Ship Willpower - Willpower Test @ + 0 [roll0] TN20

On a failure take 1 Morale damage and 1 Crew Population damage as the weaker minded members of the crew are afflicted by the pain of warp intrustion.

[Glarx]

"Excellent work, everyone! But don't get complacent, the Warp is--" And then Chelsea was stopped midway through her compliments, a wave of nausea mixed with revulsion. She felt as though the finery she wore had turned to maggots, the gems on her ears and fingers sprouting the legs of a spider. Her piercings burned with an impossible coldness, pain shooting through each site and radiating throughout her entire body. Her eyes were wide, pain cracking across the surface and obscuring her vision. Hair became snakes; fingers snapped and broke in different angles; the sound of her crew dying rang in her ears.

But this isn't happening, the voice in her head reminded her. This is an apparition of the Warp. Stop it, you dolt. You look like an idiot.

Chelsea closed her mouth and blinked a few times, chest heaving from the experience. "Status report! Lady-Navigator, you're supposed to stop those sorts of things from happening!" She idly wondered if her father had ever experienced anything like this, or her grandfather before him. Surely she couldn't recall a time when a ship she had been on had caused such damage, or the Warp been so utterly inhospitable. It was always a nuisance, but never had it so violently resisted a ship she'd been on.

Jinx slammed her fist into the arm of her throne. Looks like your nickname is once again fitting, the voice said smugly.

[Rising Chaos]

Cort could feel the hints of unease stemming from the medical teams, it made sense and he cursed his shortsightedness. Sending in a team without proper motivation and assurance would surely make them jumpy and scared, though a part of his more rational mind wondered why he knew the team was so on edge. He was about to activate the vox to calm them down when his mind flooded with fear and horror. Letting his mind wander and unknowingly lowering his defenses had left him vulnerable.

At his console Cort cried out in pain and doubled over, hands to his head as he tried in futility to drive out the screaming. His battlewounds ached and he could feel his eyes and ears burning, though he didn't notice the blood leaking from either. It was the screaming that was the worst, because it reminded him of Iniquity. The same damnable chanting that was howling in his head and burning his mind. He tried to say the litany of banishment, but he found himself fumbling over the words and forgetting passages as the pain knifed back into him.
Yelling out in anger and frustration Cort desperately tried to reassemble his thoughts through the onslaught of madness, but so far was making no progress. The only thought that stuck with him was one of revelation.
'God-Emperor, that thing was real', the thought reverberated in his head 'I'm not going crazy, that monster was real!'

[Retrokinesis]

Ambrell can feel her physical form twisting in agony but the Sanctum stops it from tearing her to shreds. This is no mere Warp storm. . .

++NOT A WARP STORM - DAEMON++
++SUGGEST IMMEDIATE COUNTERMEASURES++

Not knowing the exact capabilities of the crew, she had no clue what those countermeasures would be - all she could do was pray to the Emperor that they were enough. And get this thrice-cursed tendrils off! No beast of the Immaterium was going to take a Modar-guided ship, not on her watch. She directs her mental energies towards weaking the thing's grip just enough for them to wiggle through.

And, with a horrendous wail that reverberates through the ship, the tendrils of daemonic energy come loose. Seeing her chance, Ambrell tears the ship back through the veil and into realspace without a second thought.

++TRANSLATION IMMINENT++
++SECURE ALL STATIONS++

[The Architect]

http://i57.tinypic.com/11hs6zm.jpg

As many of the crew still stumble and scream the ship rips free of its attacker and hurls itself into reality, a shade too close to Footfall but thankfully not too dangerously so as not to be easily avoided. As soon as the ship was on a stable trajectory again the vox was bombarded by a flurry of queries.

Footfall flickers onto the main view sceen as a massive, sprawling void port of gigantic stone asteroids bound together by ornate bridges, flexible tunnels, and chains the size of voidships, all centred around a macrostatue of the most holy God-Emperor of Mankind dozens of kilometres high. This statue, placed by Footfall's founder, the Rogue Trader Parsimus Derwin, looks out sadly over a morass of vice, degradation, perversion, sedition, mutation, and heresy. The floating agglomeration of Footfall is situated transfixed in the hellish glare of the star Furibundus, which casts stark shadows over its spires and gargoyles.

One of the voidsmen, at the augury primary console, pulls himself from the floor and starts hurrying to read over read outs. He speaks up but his voice is horse "Lord-Captain, the second warp jump took about 294 hours, our complete journey from port wander took roughly 316 hours ship time, while 262 days, 13 hours approximately passed in realspace. We are receiving identification requests from several ships, but none urgent bar a vid-vox request from a Liege Tanthus Moross, records state he is the defacto representative of the station. Sirs, how should we proceed?"

What do you do?

100 xp to all characters.

I believe I'm still waiting on your Willpower Tests? :smalltongue:

[devinebovine]

For a moment Novem felt cold. And not just his weak flesh - but even the pure augmetics that were free of feeling felt cold. For a moment his blood and blood spirits froze. But as soon as his logi-circuits detected the abnormality it registered as false, and Novem felt only the thrum and song of the holy and safe machinery around him. The shields were intact, the engine still pulsed, and the millions of smaller functions throughout the ship continued. Novem was glad for the reliable and trustworthy spirits and their temples that surrounded him, and registered an amount of frustration that they were used to function within the illogical and unreliable Empyrean. Such a travesty.

[Glarx]

"First, someone's to get me a glass of wine. Second, someone's to get the Lady-Navigator a glass of wine. Third, someone will open the vid-vox line to Liege Tanthus Moross. Fourth, I want status reports -- Seneschal Zollin, if you would take point on getting the ship in shape after such an ordeal? Choirmaster Caius, send word to Magos Wilcog explaining our current location and the vagaries of the Warp, but do be kind and leave out some of the more sensitive details, we oughtn't trouble the Mechanicus with such details. Prime Enginseer Novem, I need to know how extensive the damage is the journey inflicted on the Glaive.

"Master Helmswoman Wake, I want active augurs -- keep the Glaive at a constant distance from Footfall if possible, and if any vessel begins to close in, let them know they aren't welcome yet. I want to make sure Liege Moross doesn't believe us to be enemies. And someone contact the Auto Temple and make sure the priests are tending to the ratings, I don't need those simple-minded children spreading rumors about the ship being haunted. Such legacies tend to stick. I'll take the vidvox here for the time being."

It felt good to be giving orders again and actually have some modicum of agency. There wasn't much she could do in the Warp, and that always made Chelsea angry. Frightened, perhaps. Now it was time to talk to someone. And blow him to the Warp if he got lippy.

[Inspector Valin]

Anyone who'd cared to glance over at the helmswoman's station during the height of the Warp Storm would see Commander Wake was holding a hand beneath her console, resting it by her side. Anyone who'd memorized the Commander's appearance might've known what rested there. A small, glinting bolt pistol, a final gift from her father. As the demon and navigator fought across the maelstrom, and half the crew gripped their foreheads in pain, Scythia rapped her fingers tightly around the pistol's grip.

Just in case. You won't need to use it. But just in case.

Then, with one final jolt, and a quick message from Engineering, the Warp is gone. The shuddering, crashing storm is no more, and the safe blackness of realspace lies before them. Scy pauses for a second, blinking at her viewscreen, before muttering. "We're through. Emperor's Grace, we're through!" She hadn't intended to shout, or even speak those words aloud, but the massive grin on the Helmswoman's face made it quite clear social propriety wasn't her focus right now. She looked across the bridge, taking in every happy face, before finally noticing the Lord-Captain giving them orders. With an effort of will, the Commander returned her focus to her station, slotting her MIU back into place even as she confirmed the order, her focus away from her own issues and back onto those of the ship.

"Yes, ma'am. Argurs on the system, vox lines will open if anyone gets too close. Moving us outwards five thousand clicks to make sure our new friends doesn't think we warped in that close to start a fight."

I was asleep! :P

Willpower Test, [roll0] TN40. Emperor's Name, Scy, DON'T SCREW THIS UP!

[The Architect]

The Bridge

The moment the Lord-Captain had finished with her orders the many crewman on the deck began to rush to fulfill them, as if overjoyed to return to the normality of service. Within seconds a handmaiden in a long scarlet gown appeared with a jug of wine and placed a crystal glass in Chelsea's hands. A few moments later the vox technicians tuned into the appropriate frequency and the screen flickered from a display of footfall to that of a beauteous alabaster throne, an ancient masterwork engraved with a hundred scenes of the God-Emperor's victories, in the center of a shadowy space filled with the sort hardly clothed individuals draped around the throne that unsettled moral individuals. Upon the throne at the centers of the concubines is a 'man' in a tuxedo in the Scintillan, oddly old fashion when contrasted with the more in fashion ruffles and tunics of most nobles. The 'man' still seemed well-kept and wealthy but that did not stand out nearly as much as the fact that the man was augmented more than anyone Chelsea had likely ever seen. His face was a mask of gold and bronze and while only his hands could be seen of the rest of body, and they were the same smooth gold and bronze of top-class cybernetics, one might question if he even had use for concubines.

When he spoke his voice was auto tuned and inhumanly harmonic "good tidings and much joy to you and all your crew from Footfall, and its Liege-Lord Tanthas Moross, myself. I must now ask your identity and custom, if you wish us ill pass on, but if you wish for anything but that dark joy then Footfall shall be the answer to your prayers weary traveler. For the lost may find anything here."

There is a clockwork click-clack and the man's mechanical features shift into an unsettling smile. No tech-priest' features ever made an effort to emulate that of a human so the clear attempt by the man facial augmetics were especially strange.

What do you do?

[Rising Chaos]

As the craft translated out of the warp the blurring pain died with it and Zollin sat up, breathing deep and wiping the blood from his tear ducts. Despite the approaching headache he smiled as he saw Footfall before him, it felt good to be back. Even though they had just gone through hell it was calming to see the massive clusters of asteroids, and even better to see the massive stature of the God-Emperor. As the helmsman announced the Liege's name Cort's smile faded a bit, Thantus Moross, he was surprised and disappointed that Moross was still the station's Leige. Though he had been a fairly decent leader during the years Cort believed that his lack of interest and control on the station was the primary reason it had degraded so quickly during his life on Footfall.

Before the screen had come to life and Thantus had appeared Cort had pressed his micro-bead and activated a link to Lady Chelsea "At once Captain. A word of warning, Thantus may appear a simple brute but the fact that he has avoided assassination for so long means that there is more to him than it seems. Once the ship is checked I'll prepare the traditional offering we are to present him upon arrival". He spoke in a low-tone to avoid anyone around him hearing them. The last thing he wanted when he stepped foot on the station were rumors spreading that he had bad-mouthed the Liege.

Once again Cort began his ritual of hailing the multiple ship overseers, work sergeants and bosun's. Trying to get a lay of what damage the ship had taken and how many had perished during their journey. Once he had a list of damages he sent the required repair crews to their destinations. After that was done he set about gathering up materials from the cargo stores to present as an offering. It wouldn't need to be their entire supply, and Cort was determined not to touch the food stores after the time dilation, but an offering of raw stone, metals and some of the spare weapons they had would be more than enough to appease Thantus.

Cort's final order of business was the one he was most apprehensive about. He reached for the vox-horn and raised one of the ship's lesser seneshals, "I require a few envoys gathered and prepared to disembark on Footfall once we've arrived. I need one to approach the Red Schola and attempt to make contact with their masters for a meeting. I also need someone to try and dig up a lead on food supplies we might acquire. Tell them to trust no one on the station and choose their words carefully, especially with the Red Schola." . If there was one faction that concerned Cort it was the infamous Schola tutors, much as he hated them their services could be useful, especially for an aspiring Rogue Trader.

[Glarx]

Chelsea sipped the wine as the man spoke, nodding at its conclusion. "It is delightful to meet you, Liege-Lord Moross. I am Chelsea Maria Andrea Rosanna Verata, Scion of the Verata Warrant of Trade, and I mean you and your holdings no harm. I would enjoy shopping in your fine markets, speaking with your citizens and merchants, and perhaps finding mutually beneficial avenues for profit with those who might find such an offer intriguing."

[devinebovine]

Novem voxed Chelsea. Lady-Captain, the machine-spirits are distressed over our problematic journey. My crews are performing all the necessary rites and should have no difficulty in restoring tranquility. The hull has received relatively minor damage, with systems showing no breaches. If we have time to repair I recommend we do so, as it would certainly go a long way to reassuring the Ebon Glaive that its care is our utmost concern.

[Toxic Mind]

Marcus was in his Sanctum when he felt IT. He knew in that instant that his earlier scan of the ship had been flawed. This Warp Storm was a damned DAEMON. He could feel it's claws trying to gain purchase in his mind, the same alien presence he had felt earlier during the mind link.

"DAEMON. SHIELD YOUR MINDS." He screams through his psychic connection with his choir. He could only hope that he reached them in time, because he had little time for them now. Whatever else his warning may have accomplished, the daemon knew where he was.

Marcus Caius was no fledgling, however. He was not unfamiliar with the perils of the warp, and he fought the daemon with all his might, smashing his will against it. "YOU WILL NOT HAVE THIS SHIP AND YOU WILL NOT HAVE ME." He smashes into the daemon with each thought word, driving it a little farther back. He can sense the navigator, fighting valiantly, the crew, some screaming, others, brave few, seeking to help what they could. He can see the techpriests, holding the daemon's true form back with Gellar fields, saving the ship itself from utter annihilation. "BY THE LIGHT OF THE EMPEROR WHICH FLOWS THROUGH MY BEING, I CAST YOU FROM THIS PLACE, DAEMON." Marcus Caius may have been less skilled at the physical arts of war, but in wars of the mind, he was unmatched. He felt the daemon's hold loosen, and his vision, clouded with blood and death, clears. It had been a close call, far closer than Caius would ever like to experience again.

Caius traveled quickly to check on his Astropaths, all of whom had mercifully headed his warnings, and beside being rather shaken, were unharmed. In a rare display, he congratulated them all on their faith and courage in the face of evil.
Upon receiving the Lady Captain's orders, he warned them all to rest, but be available should Footfall's relay prove inadequate to his needs.

"Lady Captain, I may have to kill our Navigator. I apologize if this inconveniences you." Marcus flashed to Jinx, the humor in his thought evident. "I will contact the Magos as soon as available, and relay only the cursory details. We have arrived safely, he needs little else."

[The Architect]

The Bridge

The Seneschal's assistants scatter once they have their orders.

Cort discovers no new issues aboard the ship as he examines his files and reports as they come in. He is aware of the losses during the journey (103 of the 365 days of food stores, 1 Crew Population (1,000+ lives lost or crippled), 1 Morale, 4 Hull Integrity) and his info does not indicate any additional losses.

The Liege's features seem to shift ever so slightly at the mention of a warrant "Ah. Then welcome, to your and your house Lady Verata. All here is open to you, and unless you are in need of me I think I have heard enough and shall leave you to your enjoyment of our island in the void."

If any of you want to do timeskips, acquisitions, starting scenes, or looking into things on the station you can do so now. :smallsmile:

[Rising Chaos]

Cort reviewed the information with a grim smile. No additional casualties was a relief and all in all the most pressing matter was the loss of food supply. Though that could be fixed, as his assistants left the room Cort walked to his room and retrieved a few small cloth items from his trunk, then proceeded to the hanger bays. He sent Captain Vereta a recorded message through her vox-channel, as he knew she was talking to Thantus. He didn't want the Liege to see him yet, though he wished he could see the look on his face when he realized Chelsea was a Rogue Trader. His message was short and intent on getting the Captain up to speed.
"My lady, I'll be brief as you did not mention what you knew of Footfall in our conversations. The law of Footfall states that any Rogue Trader holds the highest position of authority on the station. This means you technically supersede the authority of Liege Moross, however many on the station would care little about that, as there are many places to dump a body here. I intend to disembark on Footfall and begin preparing the necessary resources for our mission, I will be swift and update you as the situation requires. In terms of shore leave for the men I would advise against it as Footfall is dangerous to the unwary and non-influential. However the leave would certainly increase morale and if you wish for it I can draw up a list of strictures the men must adhere to while on the station."

By the time he sent the message he was in the hanger bay and awaiting the shuttle's lift off procedures. Almost ten minutes later he found himself striding through the halls of Footfall's Hab-Fanes. His nostalgic grin returned as he walked the halls and he quickly fell into the same old habits he had adopted growing up on the station, his gaze tracking the area looking out for cut purses or people following him. From what he could tell there were a few new gangs that had sprung up, and he felt positively old seeing the juves knocking shoulders and flashing their weapons to weary workers.
Cort was travelling the halls with his bolter stashed inside a kit-bag and his hellpistol inside his trench-vest. Around here it was almost certain that carrying such flashy weapons would get you jumped. Though he hadn't been back in a few years he still exuded the air of high ranking ganger and most people made way for him.

A few minutes later he stopped outside of a local bar, the Serpents Glass. It was an old bar frequented by a certain gang Cort had run with in his youth, and seeing it made him smile like he had as a juve, after getting jumped into the gang. Leaning against a nearby wall he reached into his kitbag and pulled out a headband and a leather belt with a large, shoddy shoulder pad wrapped to it. He put on the headband and draped the belt over him like a bandolier. Both were gang marks of the Void Wyrms, his old gang, and if he wanted to go in a stay in one piece Cort wanted them to know who he was. Stepping towards the Serpents Glass he pushed open the door and made his way inside. He was hoping that the Wyrms still ran this joint, cause if they didn't he'd be walking into serious danger. However the bar was still called the Serpents Glass, which is what the Wyrms had originally named it and was a good sign they still ran the place. Rival gangs would have defaced the sign and renamed this hovel.

[Toxic Mind]

Marcus headed to the hanger bay, and as he walked quickly relayed his plans to the Captain. " I will be headed to the Relay to commune with their choir. It will be far more effective than the attachment we have aboard the ship, and even were they not I would prefer our to rest, as their ordeal was long. I will return with all haste.

True to his word, Marcus took a shuttle to the Astropathic Relay in Footfall, avoiding many of the dangers that Cort may have faced. Fear would likely have kept the local thugs at bay, but people did strange things around psykers, and Marcus would take no unnecessary chances.

He reached the Relay with little delay, and giving his regards to the local Master of the Relay, journeyed to the choir room to send his message. The process itself went off without a hitch, taking only two hours, barely even tiring for Marcus.

"Magos Wilcog. The Ebon Glaive has arrived safely in Footfall, where we will take on supplies and then continue onward. Captain Verata sends her regards. Will update when more to report." Marcus had never met the Magos, but he assumed the man would understand that given the rigors involved in sending Astrotelepathy, the Magos would excuse any curtness in the message.

His work concluded, Marcus bid his farewell to the Astra Telepathica and returned to the Ebon Glaive. He had little interest in Footfall, and no one had yet given him cause to visit the place. Upon reaching the ship, he keyed his comm and sent a message to the captain.
++ "I have returned, safely. The message is sent to the Magos. I will be in my quarters, Lady Captain, should you have need of me." ++


Baring anything exciting, Marcus will rest and heal up the remainder of his wounds as others traipse about. Should something interesting happen, Marcus will naturally awake to deal with it.

[Glarx]

Politely ending the conversation with the Liege, Chelsea listened to her seneschal. "How marvelous. Thank you for letting me know, Cort. We will be anchored for a small while, I'm sure. Get the Glaive running in proper order. The men will recuperate in the downtime, regardless of shore leave. Prime Enginseer, please perform the repairs and let the seneschal know of any materials you may need. If our on-board stores cannot perform the repairs, we will look to Footfall for them. Everyone, keep your micro-beads on -- if any of these Footfallen civilians want to cause us trouble? Call it in and I'll teleport in a unit of murder-servitors to explain exactly why harming a member of a Rogue Trader's retinue is a fatal mistake. That warp voyage has put me in a mood, officers -- I'm ready to crack the universe in half. That said: enjoy yourself. I think I'm going to go shopping."

A psychic message came to her by way of Marcus. Such communiques often gave her headaches, but she understood he preferred to meddle with the Warp. Every astropath had their eccentricities. She toggled the private band for Caius. "Marvelous. Do be careful, Marcus -- take a detachment of men with you."

She left to get her armour and holo-suit on. It might be fashionable to go without armour on a station like Port Wander, but Footfall was different. It was unscrupulous. As the last Verata, Jinx couldn't take chances. "If any of my officers would care to join me while we're out shopping, do let me know. I love to look for a good bargain." Thus began the whirlwind shopping spree. Chelsea adored vendors. She enjoyed haggling and citing obscure laws. Commerce was just a subdivision of charming a man, after all -- instead of his pants, you were looking for his wallet. Although, charming a man for his wallet was certainly a possibility as well.

It took her a day to get an updated copy of the Digesta Emporia Calixia. Four to get a calculance array. The last two days were devoted to a series of impulse buys, and one failure -- despite a last minute renegotiation, the merchant refused to part with his Catechisms of Saint Drusus. The fool. But she had collected a number of trinkets, and that satisfied her. It would take about a week before the skull she'd purchased and the Maxims of Marquette would make their way through the convoluted system of commerce. She looked through the stalls at any number of rare and exotic -- and undoubtedly counterfeit -- items the vendors were selling, and her eyes sparkled with the possibilities. Jinx didn't just love shiny things. She adored them.

Once her shopping was done, it was time for a different sort of shopping. Bounties, missions, traders -- anything of note. It was time to learn what Footfall had to say.

Charm test, for bar trawling: [roll0] v. 73, 93 if they're Imperial Faithful.

[devinebovine]

Novem drew up plans for his tech-priests to oversee the hull repairs of the Ebon Glaive. After sending a list to Cort of the required metals, sacred unguents, wiring, stones, and stained glass needed for the repairs, he left control of the Enginarium to his second, Machine-Shrine Technomagus Klaxoris. He then set out for Footfall, long his home since reaching the rank of Explorator-Xenologus. His augmetic olfactory detected and recorded familiar levels of grime, sweat and smoke. He unlocked the cognitive framework directories that effected movement and took on the affectations and mannerisms native to the station. Novem of course stood out in his red robes, and while most on Footfall knew better than to raise the ire of the Mechanicus by hassling one of its emissaries, he knew that he would gain a degree of trust by displaying his familiarity with the underworld elements.

He had a list of items he was in search of in preparation for the expedition. While he made his way through the markets and space-islands that made up the amalgamated station, he kept his senses (and those of his servo-skull's) attuned to any evidence of the xeno cold trade. He didn't think that Lady Chelsea carried quite enough weight yet to make the acquisition of any exceptional xeno-tech a possibility, but the possibility of being able to run an auspex scan on unfamiliar tech was an alluring one indeed.

I'm rolling Logic to "deduce" the presence of xeno-tech. Basically he's using his knowledge of illegal markets to find evidence of trades taking place and "special" items store owners might have. I'll include a Forbidden Lore (Xenos) to help him identify the alien and help the identification of patterns. I really have no idea what I'm looking for, but maybe something interesting will turn up!

Forbidden Lore (Xenos) [roll0] vs 51
Logic [roll1] vs 51

I also have Peer (Underworld) in case that makes a difference, and my servo-skull has an auspex which is likely Assisting

[The Architect]

Through the Serpent's Glass

Someone should have told Cort you can't go home again.

The Serpent's Glass did not reside in one of the more prestigious towers and so the gravity and lights flickered and fluctuated as one moved through the space. As Cort surveyed the room he saw it was a plain semi-circular space, maybe 15 to 20 meters in diameter, centered around a small semi-circular bar. Two doors on either side of the bar on the far wall led into the back rooms and a raised ring of tables lined the circumference of the curved wall. To the left was a stage and walkway that jutted into the space and stopped just before the bar, with a pit that was filled with poor quality servitor-musicians and the rare dock worker who could play anything beyond the spoons.

He glanced up and saw something he had not expected. At the keys of a large black console like wooden casket, some sort of instrument, sat a woman in a black dress who's fingers danced in the half light of the stage. The music that filled the smoke choked bar was eerie and of uncharacteristic quality. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qnn_UKKNv5c)She looked up and her sable hair hid one eye but that one which was free was white with a single black dot for a pupil, a white void addict.

It was only then Cort really saw her. Rosa. He'd known her most of his life, but she'd been hardly more than a child when he left, now she... wasn't. He had also last seen her with her hidden eye burnt out of its socket and had thought she was dead so he hadn't expected her to be here. Cort glanced around, looking for more familiar faces and making sure Rosa hadn't noticed him yet. He didn't see... any, or any baring his gang markings. No one accosted him though, but a handful of young teens with myriad color hair and clothing that mixed body armor with revealing garments seemed to glare at him from the other corner of the bar.

There was a shout from behind the bar as a man with a rusted thin cybernetic right arm, dark skin and a thick build shouts over to him "frak... Cort?!"

~~~

The Lord-Captain


The Lord-Captain attends the theater, a performance of the Lost Times relic-play 'Doctor Faustus', and finds more than a few gentlemen willing discuss a man know as Cherno, who rumors claim has been buying and selling heretical artifacts to those of a less pure bent.
While dining with a visiting Noble of Scintilla, she does not remember the young man's name simply that he had money, status and looks, she stumbled upon a shipping invoice in his study. Accidentally of course. After pouring over the files for a few minutes she realised they were delivering habitation equipment to a settlement, perhaps a new colony, and she memorized the rough coordinates. She also noticed the signature was of one Lord-Captain Sarvus of House Trask, another Rogue Trader.
While examining her newly acquired Ashen Skull Chelsea questioned the rare antiquities dealer, Pipus Ruthgar'Rue, about his other clients. Dropping hints about a possible relation to Trask she was able to convince the old spider legged man to admit that Trask was a regular customer, though more often a seller than a buyer, and that Trask had acquired the very skull she was holding for Pipus. He also mentioned that Trask was looking for allies, who he was willing to pay, for an attack on what he believed to be a Rak'gol space station, the first of its kind ever discovered if he's right.
While reviewing files of the ship's casualities Chelsea began to see a pattern. Deck 37, that just above the three floors most ratings and general crewman avoided due to mutants and the likes, had an uptick in deaths above the average whenever such chaos was reported. Not odd enough to warrant her attention, perhaps the level was just more prone to fatal accidents due to older components, except that during the last warp journey and the six hour long wrestle between the Storm and the Navigator a dozen crewman had gone missing only for their bodies to be found horribly mutated and missing their hearts.
While aboard the station with her retinue of bodyguards the Lord-Captain is approached by an envoy that informs that a local business man, Vladaym Tocara, would be overjoyed if she could have dinner at his manse, a whole spire floating in the void of Footfall, and that he will make any night she is available work for his household. The envoy elaborates that Vladaym Tocara represents his many friends here at Footfall and wishes for nothing more than to make a new friend in the void, and in future potentially a business partner.



~~~

An Iron Man Walks The Streets

Novem walks the streets, scanning and searching as subtly as he can manage but finds no immediate trace of the alien. His time here before had let him know that that Kasballica Mission, a massive crime syndicate and one of the most powerful factions in the port city, were the rulers of the cold trade but the tech-priest sadly did not know how or where to contact them, and he was having no luck searching the streets for signs of the alien. He knew floating in the void was a prison-fortress like building, the Xenosium, which was said to hold Xeno 'guests' of the port who worked for less scrupulous Rogue Traders but he doubted he could gain entrance to their without the influence of his fellows, and then it would be seen as Chelsea hunting down the Xenos themselves which with all the Thrones she had already spent here already it might not be the attention she wishes to attract.

Novem seemed almost about to give up when a voice spoke from a dark alley "psst!"

When Novem glanced he saw a small girl, eight terran cycles, maybe nine, but she was a twist, a mutant. Her skin was a faded blue and her canines were too large and too sharp. In her rags and dirt though she didn't seem remotely intimidating, coming hardly above Novem's knee and seeming so skinny she might snap in a strong wind, a street urchin.

She spoke again when she had his attention "what yeh lookin' for cog? For a few Seats I can help yeh out?"

[Glarx]

When she wasn't working to procure rare and valuable items for those senior staff who she favored, Chelsea was buying things for herself. One such thing was a relic-play. The High Gothic was beautiful, if a little morose, and she left the show quite thrilled. She decided to look for Cherno first, intrigued by the opportunity to find heretical artifacts. What a bizarre world she was visiting! You're a magpie, the voice in her head chided smugly. You just want to see if the Other Side has shinier things. She shut the voice up with a lho stick at the end of an ebony holder.

A noblewoman she'd dined with had mentioned Sarvus Trask. Who in the galaxy didn't know Sarvus Trask? A very ambitious man... and one Chelsea was quite interested in getting to know better. That this noblewoman mentioned the coordinates to the colony was also interesting, and Sarvus' signature even moreso. And then, when buying those peculiar skulls, Ruthgar'Rue -- and what a name he had! -- had mentioned Trask being the supplier. How interesting. More interesting yet was this Rak'Gol station. She put out feelers to set up a meeting with the man, if he were to be found on Footfall. If not... well, she did have an astropath.

She alerted Scy to Deck 37, and asked that a legion clear it out, clearing the use of murder-servitors in the event there were murdering abhumans to be found there. The Ebon Glaive would adhere to the Verata motto -- Pure in His eyes, blast it all! She also requested Marcus go with them, in case daemons had slipped in.

She scheduled a night for meeting with Mr. Tocara.

I'm not sure what rolls I would need to make for this sorta thing. So... I'll roll in the OOC if need be.

[Toxic Mind]

++CAUIS TO CAPTAIN++

"I shall await Scy and her servitors to accompany me to the deck, where we will attempt to determine what, if anything, is causing these problems. It could just be nothing, but every possibility warrants investigation."

"In addition, as you search for supplies among the markets of Footfall, if you have some free time, I would take it as a personal favor if you would search for some items for me. A ForceStaff, if at all possible, and a Longlas to help with ranged combat. A Psyber Raven if it all possible, and at the very least, some sort of force field. I leave the details to your discretion, as I must prepare for the investigation of deck 37."

Caius donned his armor and began his meditation in preparation for the possibility of combat in the purging of deck 37.


[roll0] vs 49

OOC: Just kidding thats +1 to the next Fettered Power Test.

[Glarx]

"Be careful down there, Caius. You are indispensable to me. If you have any reason to believe you are ill-equipped for the mission, you do not proceed with it. Hear me? Same goes for Scy. Pass on my well-wishes -- I'll see about the staff thingy. There's a man with spider legs -- mechanical spider legs! Can you believe it? Who would have something so gaudy and ridiculous? Clearly he gave up some parts in order to pick those up -- or do you think there are women into that sort of thing? Anyways, be careful. Ta!"

[The Architect]

The Lord-Captain

Mr. Tocara, the Lord-Captain, her trio of handmaidens, and dozen strong armed escort, discovered was not a mere business man.

His manse was a spire drifting chained to the asteroid below, covered on all sides by carved depictions of war and ceramite gargoyles. When the Lord-Captain exited her craft she discovered the expansive space of the tower's base, used as a hanger, had nearly no gravity, and she was quickly rushed by grav-pack wearing attendants to an elevator.

Cramped inside the Lord-Captain was no doubt relieved when the pneumatics finally hissed open and vomited the group forth onto a much higher floor which thankfully had fully functioning gravity. She had heard irregular gravity was common to Footfall but had not yet experienced it herself till now. Once out of the elevator the Lord-Captain saw that she had arrived at the foyer of as large a manse as she could have expected to fit into the space of the tower.


http://i59.tinypic.com/np1dud.png

She stood there only for a moment studying the space when a figure of regal baring and costly attire (http://idrawgirls.com/tutorials/wp-content/uploads/2012/11/painting-tutorial-photoshop-noble-man-02.jpg)swept through the glass doors on the opposite side of the entrance space, followed by as many retainers as the Lord-Captain but none armed, with smile on his face from ear to ear.

"My Cap-ie-tain, Oh 'ow over joyed I 'as when I 'eard you 'ad accepted my invitation! From myself, a 'umble business man no less, you 'ave too much pity for a poor soul, for an angel to grace such a shabby 'ome!" He bows and rises in one swift dramatic motion "my 'ome is your 'ome Cap-ie-tain, but you must be 'ungry, my dining 'all is just through this door," he motions to large carved wooden doors to his left "I 'ave 'ad the choicest meats from across the expanse prepared for my most noble guest, if you would do me the honor of stepping inside," he and his entourage begin to move towards the door themselves which are opened by servants "'ow 'as your stay so far been in our little port?"

Make a Routine (+20) Investigation Test to check if Sarvus Trask or any of his representatives are on Footfall.
Make a Difficult (-10) Investigation Test to search for this 'Cherno' in Footfall.

P.S.

You might want to edit your last post as those Spider Legs were meant to be mechanical, their weird augmetics, he's not Spider Man's creepier cousin. :smalltongue:

~~~

Aboard the Ship

When the Astropath Transcendent arrives at Level 37 he meets an arms crew of a dozen men, armed with shotguns usually reserved for boarding actions, with a knife strapped to one leg and a pistol to the other. Scy had not yet arrived but the group had gathered at the base of one of the larger elevator towers in a large open base, one of the few large rooms so low in the ship, the might resemble a small warehouse if not for the many doors along each wall, bulkheads on the ceilings, pale green glow of the many weaker lights and the many propaganda and advertising posters covering the walls, some a great many years old mentioning musical events in bilge-taverns who's musicians were all long since dead.

Seeing the Astropath Transcendent one of the men pokes another and points the psyker out. Blinking the second man, a man in his third decade of life with a thick red beard, mohawk and athletic build did something very usual. The man marched over with a smile on his face, like a man happy to meet the parish ecclesiarchal representative, with an outstretched hand to shake the Astropath's "Arms-Officer Luka Krieg, Sir, and with the utmost respect may I thank you for what you did a few days ago, during that horrid warp journey, sir. Myself and the boys were on duty and things were looking grim before you helped put everyone back on the Emperor's path. Now I'm a psyker hatin' man like any good religious Imperi-ite, but I get it now. You saw the Emperor on Terra, lost your eyes for the greater good, gosh, what I'm trying to say, is... is your one of the good ones. Now I talked to the rest of the men and I can assure you there won't be a place it ain't safe for you to go on this ship from this level up, if a Arms-man sees you on this ship unattended he'll drop what he's doing and keep an eye on you till your back at your sanctum safe and sound, lease we can do for a man who risks his soul for the lives of this crew."

Marcus likely very regularly met an average Joe who has ever reacted so positively to him, with so little fear.

[devinebovine]

Novem had his auspex take a quick scan of the twist. <<Human. 8 cycles old, but with advanced organ decay normal for middle-age. Numerous genetic abnormalities in conjunction with statistically-significant carcinogens indicates deformities likely due to industrial run-off.>>

He got down on one knee, unafraid of the wretched thing at his feet. He modulated his vocal replicators to mimic the underclass accent he once had possessed. Yes, dear child, you may be exactly who I need. It has been several cycles since I have prowled these alleys. Where could I find someone who deals in . . . unusual items? Things from the Expanse, strange and frightening. I will pay for your knowledge.

[The Architect]

An Iron Man Walks The Streets

The little twist girl looks Novem up and down, as a prey creature surveys another beast on the approach, to judge it predator or fellow. She nods and speaks apprehensively "The... Serpent's Glass, it's in the big hab-tower with the clock on the side, there's a gravity-less bridge at the end of the street round the corner that comes out just down the corridor from it. I heard gangers used to run the place but the Kasballica do now, I think, I'm not sure, some say that gang still does, some both. Not sure. Not sure. I saw a man in there cut another man in half there once, with a sword that was made out of light. It was a Kasballica guy who did it. He says he's a trader but he doesn't have a stall anywhere... not anywhere I saw... mister, can I have that money now? He's the man to see if you want to see strange things. He's easy to spot, he's a white void addict with dark skin and white dreadlocks..."

The girl stares up at Novem with a mix of worry and anticipation.

[Rising Chaos]

The Serpents Glass had changed since Cort had last been there, that was to be expected. The lack of any gang marking put him on edge, and he gave a curt nod to the youths in the corner. He still held the look of a veteran ganger, and he planned to use it's intimidation for as long as he could. As he gazed around the room he absentmindedly removed his headband and slid it into his vest. His gaze lingered on Rosa for a while, her presence startled him. He still remembered her from her pre-juve days. The most energetic and perky ganger who Cort had led he owed his life to her many times over, and the same went for her. He had thought her life had come to and end the day before he had left for Iniquity, when he had seen her take a las bolt to the face fighting the Iron Drake gang. Her tiny iris sent a pinprick of pain through Cort as he noticed the signs of white void addiction. When Rosa had worked with him he had found her taking the drug and chewed her out over it, helping her get quit white void had been a struggle but Cort had congratulated her, thinking the effort would save her life. He was disappointed she had relapsed... maybe if he had been there he could have prevented it...

He kept staring at Rosa with a sad nostalgia until he heard someone call his name, when he realized who it was he grinned and walked towards him. Zeph Tollin used to be an enforcer in Cort's squad, known for his knowledge of crude explosives and firebombs. The bulky man had lost his arm during a combat misfire a week before Cort had set out, at the time Cort had been disappointed that Zeph could not accompany them. Looking back he was glad he had left Zeph behind, there were so many dead from that blasted missions: Drek, Jeruss, Baltin, Ortez, Miria, Anria.... the sad truth was that Rosa and Zeph were probably the sole survivors of the Void Wyrms he had led and relied on for so long.
As he reached the bar he pulled up a stool and dropped into it, nodding at Zeph "How's it hangin Z? Told you I'd be back better and stronger than ever" he said, flashing his old trademark grin. "The Glass seems to have changed a fair deal since I've been gone. What's happened to the place?"

Hope you don't mind me adding back stories for the NPC's. Lemme know if it's a problem.

[Glarx]

This is... new.

Chelsea smiled at the man and allowed herself to be ushered along, smiling at her host. "Mr. Tocara, you're too kind! My experience thus far has been absolutely sublime. I cannot tell you how novel and remarkable Footfall is! There was one man who denied me, but I suppose I will live without a copy of the Catechisms of Saint Drusus. Alas. If this is a shabby abode, Mr. Tocara, then I must shudder to think what you would interpret my current home would be. But now: I look forward to sampling these fine foods and seeing what the Expanse has to offer. I intend to be here for some while, Mr. Tocara, so knowing what I like and what I don't will save me time and effort later on. For that, you have my thanks.

"Did you happen to catch the relic-play recently? I had never had the chance to experience such a singular performance."

[devinebovine]

Novem smiles softly at the wretched creature, then remembers that he no longer has lips or a mouth with which to do so. He reaches into his robes and pulls out some of the shaped scraps of metal the Footfallen use for currency and places them in the girl's open palms. "Blessings of the Emperor and Omnissiah upon thee, child." He turned and began making his way back to the Glaive.

Novem catalogs the new information. The Kasballica . . . finally he had lead on their whereabouts. Never having been a man of wealth or fame, he had not been approached by that elusive group, despite his desire for their acquaintance. Perhaps now he could finally make contact.

He would have to be cautious, though. Such an organization did not maintain power and secrecy by allowing just anyone to get close to it. Fortunately Novem knew of someone who might be able to help.

He called Cort over his micro-bead.

"Cort, this is Novem. I am sure you have heard of the Kasballica, the cartel that controls the Cold Trade here. I have received information that they may have a point of contact at the Serpent's Glass, an old gang hideout. I think your experience and expertise would be useful here. Would you have the time soon to accompany me there?"

[The Architect]

The Lord-Captain

Mr. Tocara smiled at the mention of the Relic-Play "I 'as not there at the most recent performance but I 'ave seen it. The troupe is mine, so much as I am lucky enough to be its sponsor. It makes the 'ole of such an investment worthwhile to know you had enjoyed it. I 'ave been told the play 'Dr. Faustus' was ancient 'hen the Emperor still walked on Terra, discovered during the great crusade in the databanks of New Alexandria, it seems man 'as been making deals with the devil for as long as we have imagined devils."

Tocara makes a show of pulling out the Lord-Captain's seat at one end of the massive oak table. Each entourage took the side to the ride of the facing of their masters. When Tocara spoke again the servants began to pile fruits onto the pile on large silver plates and poured wine for all those seated. He raised a goblet and spoke "to your stay in Footfall, may you find new friends and new fortunes, Lady Chelsea of House Verata!"

~~~

Through the Serpent's Glass

Zeph runs his flesh hand through his hair and the look on his face is that of a man seeing the ghost of an old friend "Cort man, we all thought you'd gone to see the Throne, we all heard you'd been on the Inequity job," Zeph looked around as he grabbed a bottle of Old Gulliman's Rock Amasec and poured them both tumblers of a faded brown liquid "Well, gang colors ain't on the menu no more, not since the new boss took over. The Wyrms have gotten organised, they pay the gangs who still give guns to kids to shoot narks down in alleys. The new boss got the Wyrms a seat at the table, and most of us old fogeys are given enough to keep us quiet and in line with the new agenda." Zeph speaks with the voice of a man who has become accustomed to a situation he abhors "Rosa know your still alive? Your death was a big hit to the girl, not sure if she had the hots for you or idolized you or both. Not that any sane man be dumb enough to risk flirting with her in public nowadays, not if they like having hands."

It is at that moment that Cort's microbead comes alive;


"Cort, this is Novem. I am sure you have heard of the Kasballica, the cartel that controls the Cold Trade here. I have received information that they may have a point of contact at the Serpent's Glass, an old gang hideout. I think your experience and expertise would be useful here. Would you have the time soon to accompany me there?"

Not only is making up backstory events not discouraged, it is SUPER encouraged. Job well done.

[Glarx]

"My dear sir, I think I've already found a friend in Footfall. My very first in the Koronus Expanse." She raised her own glass and dipped her head towards him, showing proper deference. From there it was on to sampling things. Rare fruits, vegetables, meats, wines, desserts. Something that was still moving before it was cracked open expertly by a staff member. A liqueur that was aerosolized and inhaled. She waited until after the dinner was over, and the light conversation had ended, to ask Mr. Tocara to retire to a more personal location for the discussion of the future.

"If you would be so kind, Mr. Tocara? I had hoped to intrude on your hospitality ever so slightly and perhaps discuss something of a more commercial nature. If you would prefer not to, I understand completely."

[Toxic Mind]

Marcus firmly grasps the man's hand and shakes it. He takes in each of the men as the Arms-Officer delivers his impromptu speech, heartened by their sentiment.

"The Emperor appreciates your faith, and I appreciate your candor." Cauis smiled broadly. "You may find that my blindness is less of a hindrance than you might think, but I appreciate the sentiment anyways. Still, you must always guard yourself from those unproven in the Emperor's Light, which you all have done so well. And I shall never fault you for that."

"I am here to protect you from the warp, but I believe the course of action most wise is to wait for Commander Scythia before we attempt to Purge this floor of whatever taint may permeate it."

[Rising Chaos]

Cort accepted the tumbler and knocked back the shot with a practiced ease, savoring the burn, Old Gulliman's was the vintage of choice the pair had shared after successful missions, though he still couldn't taste The pure spirits that rival the valor of the Ultramarines, unless Ultramarine valor tasted like burning piss. He flashed Zeph the same cocky smile
"I don't blame ya Z. That Iniquity job went seven ways to gak so fast it'd give the Red Schola a run for their money. I wish the others had been as fortunate as I, but you wouldn't believe the kind of connections I'-".
He was cut off as Novem contacted him. He didn't bother to turn away from Zeph, but he did lower his voice a bit so that no one other than the bartender would hear them.
"That's a gakking surprise. I'm sitting in the Glass right now. I'll warn you Novem, those folk are a slippery bunch. Come down in a half hour or so and we'll see what we can dig up. What's the ct's name?".
'Ct' was the slang he had developed with his assistants as an abbreviated way to say "contact" without mentioning you were meeting one. It was crude but an effective way to disorient those listening, he hoped Novem knew that. Even with the spirits his mind was abuzz with three different plans at the moment. What Zepth had said was disappointing but expected. The Wyrms seemed to be going down the same path as the Black Brotherhood, gain power from the shadows through manipulation to become top dog. It was an effective strategy here, but one the old boss would've never agreed on. When he ran with the Wyrms he'd been on decent terms with their boss, Hecaton La'phere. La'phere had used him mostly for his negotiation and planning, but he'd liked the boss's free spirit and determination to rise the old fashioned way. He restarted his conversation with Z where he'd left off.
"-I've got, as it were, that was one of 'em. Seems the new heads strategy's been working if they've got a seat at the table, as brutal as it sounds. Who's the new leader?" he paused for a moment "And how badly did La'phere bite it when they took over?"

When Zeph had mentioned Rosa he had caught himself staring at her again. He'd also wondered if there was a spark between him and the girl, at the time it had seemed wrong. He'd been in his mid-twenties when she'd joined up, barely sixteen and full of piss. Maybe his 'old' age made the prospect seem more inciting. When Zeph mentioned losing hands he turned back to look at him, making a 'tsk' sound.
"Haven't had a chance to see Rosa yet, might do it when she'd finished up there. I want to know what got her on the Void again" there was a venom in his voice, but it wasn't directed at her. Cort realized that his 'death' might have pushed her back into it, and that cut him deeply. "You know I was never a sane man to begin with, and I'm not one to balk at losing hands with the backup I have. Who's the lug that decided to make her their woman?"

[devinebovine]

"You are already at the Glass? Then keep your ocular devices scanning for a white void addict with dark skin and white dreadlocked hair. I was given no name, but he apparently carries a weapon of magnificent power on his person, a sword of light. At my current ambulatory rate I should arrive at the Glass in 32.43 standard minutes. Please have a draught of their foulest swill prepared for my arrival."

As Novem made his way through the tangled streets and voidways he found himself rubbing the tin aquila around his neck. He did not believe in mere coincidence. The Machine God ruled the realm of machine-spirits, and the Emperor of Mankind ruled that of human spirits. Most overlooked these tiny instances of fortune, but he saw the guiding hand of divine fate behind them all.

[The Architect]

The Lord-Captain

Mr. Tocara nods happily, as if he had been expecting you both to retire somewhere more private. He leads Chelsea away from the dining hall, as she is keenly aware of being left beyond the sight of her guards, and through a door and a down a small staircase to what appeared to be Mr. Tocara's study. The smell of lho and amasec filled the air.


http://i60.tinypic.com/142dmao.png

Almost as soon as Mr. Tocara had entered the room he moved to one of the bookcases, pulling a key from his pocket and unlocking what appeared to be a lock embedded in the thick spine of a large book. He held the secret container that appeared to be a book, unlocked in one hand and turned back to Chelsea "Chelsea, would you like to see something extraordinary? If so, flick the light switch off."

His lips curled into another smile.

~~~

Level 37

Officer Luca salutes "As you say, sir," before turning away and returning to his men to give some last minute orders.

~~~

Through the Serpent's Glass

Cort heard Novem's reply in his ear;


"You are already at the Glass? Then keep your ocular devices scanning for a white void addict with dark skin and white dreadlocked hair. I was given no name, but he apparently carries a weapon of magnificent power on his person, a sword of light. At my current ambulatory rate I should arrive at the Glass in 32.43 standard minutes."

Zeph seemed to check was anyone listening, eyeing especially a white dreadlocked man in the corner, who was polishing a foot long pole like device of steel with burnished gold plates, that Cort hadn't noticed on his way in. He clearly matched Novem's description.

When Zepth was sure he could speak freely he answered Cort's questions "What yeh don't know is that the answer to two of your questions is the same. I've never seen the new guy, just his enforcers, but they call him Cherno."

The name brought a smirk then a look of sadness to Cort's face. Cherno was not an uncommon name on Footfall but rare in most other places, it was a contraction of the more formal Chernobog, and every child raised on Footfall knew that name. Nearly a hundred years ago a Rak'gol raiding fleet had been heading for the settlement, more than enough to wipe it out. Captain Chernobog of the Pheonix Children's second company got wind of it and arrived just in time to slaughter the host and save millions of lives, despite many peers claiming the hive of scum and villainy would be better off a graveyard. There was a reason Space Marines were revered on Footfall and the Navy was reviled. Cort had smirked at remembering he and his little brother had once had a demi-grox they'd found in a gutter called Cherno, but the thought of his brother reminded him of the darkness moment of the nightmare of inequity and his smile faded.

"Rosa is Cherno's girl, or at least that's the word on the street, though I get the feeling that's a like it or not situation. I gave her the job 'cause she can play and sing like a saint or devil, but I didn't know that till I asked if she needed work, I went looking for her because I heard the guy wasn't letting her hustle no more, even in HIS gang. Thought she might want some Thrones of her own, just in case."

Zeph refills the tumbler "About La'Phere the story keeps changing. Last version I heard the new guy stole a gun cutter a Rogue Trader named Sarvus Trask had parked in the docks, and flew it into that hab-tower La'Phere used to live in. I know it sounds ridiculous, like something out of one of those Scintillan Action-Vids, but something like it must have happened. I wouldn't have believed that version if I hadn't been asked by an old friend at the docks to throw on a voidsuit at short notice and help his guys clean up the wreckage and the bodies. I presume he bugged out before the crash, but no one can agree on that part. I heard one bloke claim he was Captain Chernobog himself and as a Space Marine he just walked away from the crash, but that guy was in the middle of a bad Obscura trip and fifteen, so that's gak for sure," there was a pause before Zeph spoke again and when he did it was with an obvious sadness "how long till you ship out again?"

In the pause that follows there is a sound as the doors of the bar swing open and in steps the Tech-Priest Novem in his crimson robes, a sight that stands out starkly in the otherwise grungy and grim space. Rosa pauses, having finished her last piece. She took the mike she had been using before Cort had arrived and walked through a backstage door into one of the backrooms, likely to get changed into street clothes.

Hope you don't mind me helping to flesh out backstory in return. :smallredface:

[Glarx]

"The last time a man told me to do that, Mr. Tocara, my father had him executed..." Jinx examined the book. "You'll forgive me for being somewhat concerned, when men I've only just met remove secret containers from books. There are several men in Footfall who wish to see me dead, and I would hate to die after having learned what deliciousness exists in the flesh of the kaja fruit. But... I suppose I'm willing to indulge in one last surprise of the evening."

She anticipated it would annoy him, or insult him, or in some way be uncouth to say no. And killing this man wasn't on her itinerary, not yet. Hopefully never, but one couldn't be too careful. So Chelsea moved over and flipped the light switch, and prepared fully for the end of her short career.

[The Architect]

The Lord-Captain

For a moment there is only darkness and the little voice snaps at her 'dying because you did something you knew was stupid, for a man, typ-', but the internal monologue is cut off by an explosion of light as threads and ribbon of ethereal energy trace the facets of the room with a haunting glow of myriad colors from burning gold to faded greens and sparkling vermilion. Soon Chelsea can pick out shapes in the light, faces and figures that seem to dance and bound between the ribbons. The air feels filled with a static and as the ribbons grow in number Chelsea can make out that they are emerging from a crystalline egg shaped object, with a single inverse cone shaped hole, lined in white, at its center. The device had been resting in a container in a hole cut in the pages of the book.

Eventually the ribbons had become to hum and the room was filled with a beautiful alien music.

It was then that the look on Tocara's face seemed to show the first hints of confusion. He hid them, but they were there.

The figures of light began to dance along the ribbers around a star forming in the center of them, floating a few feet above the book. Then the sun seemed to take a new shape and-

Chelsea's head exploded in agony and she distantly felt her body spasm and collapse beneath her.

Roll a Very Hard (-30) Willpower Test please.

[Glarx]

I'm beginning to tire of Willpower tests.

[roll0] TN 1. Let's see what horrifying fate awaits me.

Oh good, only nine degrees of failure.

[The Architect]

The Lord-Captain

What little barrier her untrained mind has to intrusion collapses, distantly she feels her body scream and loses hold of it. She sees things, things she knows . . . were, happened, transpired, so very long ago . . .

She sees stone, gem veined ships shatter in the half light of a white star in the void.

She sees crystalline coral honeycombs, a blueish white, form a tunnel before her that reaches into the earth.

She sees fire and death fill her tunnels.

She sees a creature loom over her like some horrific angel (http://fc09.deviantart.net/fs71/i/2010/233/5/f/Alien_Concept_by_kineticflow.jpg), floating as if in water but above a frozen tundra. It must be nearly twelve foot tall...

It speaks in a language her lips could not reproduce, the tones of a whale with the rhythm of a master's fiddle.

She understands...

"They. Will. Wake."

The images continue, hundreds and hundreds, but all are too blurred and too rushed, ever and ever faster, for her to comprehend any of it.

Her body is agony...

Then she shoots bolt upright, she is sitting on the floor of the office, surround by Mr. Tocara, a servant with a medikit and her guards, all packed into the space barely large enough to hold them, crowding her. Mr. Tocara releases a genuine sigh of relief "Lady Verata, you scared me! We thought you'd taken a terrible turn!"

A that a servant dabbed away blood from under her nostril.

"Are you alright?" He continued, trying to help her up from the floor where she'd fallen. His tone said anything about the device, which seemed to again be hidden, was best not discussed around the help.

You gain 1 Corruption and 2 Insanity Points.
You gain Speak language (Unknown Xeno Dialect) (Int) as a Trained Skill.

[devinebovine]

Entering the Serpent's Glass, Novem casts a quick look around, noting the object of his search off in the corner. He casually makes his way over to Cort, taking a seat next to him at the table. He says to Cort, "You did not procure the alcoholic beverage as I had requested." A mechanical sigh. "The radiation from Furibundus may have interfered with the vox-signal. Although at this range . . ." Novem trails off, thinking of coronas and particle storms. He motions a server over. "One standard container of imbibing filled with your cheapest amasec or alc. On the 'roids," he adds as an afterthought. Judging by the server's nod of agreement Novem was pleased to learn that "asteroids" still referred to ice cubes. Even though he could no longer drink, he still derived pleasure from the feel of a glass in his hand, from the fumes that wafted past his olfactory replicators. To the casual observer it must seem odd, a metal man with a grill for a mouth cradling a cup of swill. Just one more reason why he had never quite fit in with the rest of the Cult.

"So Cort, who is your table companion here? An old friend from your early days at Footfall? He certainly has a look about him that matches your stories." He extends his hand. "I am Novem, and serve alongside Cort here on the Ebon Glaive. Any friend of his is a friend of mine. Tell me, do you happen to know that man in the corner?" he indicates the void-addict with a nod of his robbed head.

[Glarx]

The biggest thing that frustrated Chelsea was the sensation she felt. Her soul was on the verge of collapse, falling into some dark and forbidden recess from which she would never recover. And there was fear that accompanied that sensation. But also, there was anger. A righteous anger, the sort of thing she couldn't express properly.

"Be gone, all of you. I will speak with Vladaym, and I will speak with him alone. And I will do so now. If you attempt to disobey me, you sniveling, impudent little worms, I will feed you to my servitors. Now get OUT!." She turned her eyes to Tocara, vengeance burning in them. "How dare you?"

Whatever the Warp he'd done to her, she would make him pay. Whatever friendship she had felt, whatever kindness, was gone. This spire would burn. Tonight. Footfall would burn. This pathetic little creature had... what? He had played with a force beyond his comprehension, and she had been the one to pay. No. That was not acceptable. She was a peer of the Imperium of Man, empowered by a Warrant of Trade older than the Ecclesiarchy to spread His light, and this man had... what? A bad accent and enough money to put on relic-plays.

Most importantly, she had a battlecruiser capable of unleashing a hellstorm the likes of which could only be looked on enviously by all but the lord-captains of battleships. Even a grand cruiser could only hope to match the Glaive's firepower.

No, there would be a reckoning for this offense against her. But she would give Tocara a chance to explain himself, to barter for his existence. She was angry -- no, rightly put, she was furious -- but she was not without the keen mind of a businesswoman. There was opportunity here.

[The Architect]

Through the Serpent's Glass

Zeph glances over to the man "Him? I'd be careful. He's Kasballica, enforcer of one of the other dons with a seat at the table. I hear he's from Sinophia originally. Pretty sure he's some sort of arms-dealer, probably a Cold-trader knowing the Kasballica. Try not to make trouble."

Zeph looks Novem up and down "Now father, or whatever your sort get called where you hail from, how important is my old friend Cort? He doing security Officer for the engine room or something? Is that how you two know each other? See I'd like to close this place up, and move on, and I wouldn't mind setting up a high class officer bar on some big ship if he's a super important officer now." The last part was obviously intended to be a joke at Cort's expanse, the sort of put down one does to a successful friend one respects, but Cort also realizes Zeph had underestimated his importance. He'd assumed all Zeph was was mid-level security at most, and that Novem was merely a low level initiate of the cult mechanicus. His last comment intended as a joke was well within Cort's authority, with a little capital to get the officer bar started.

~~~

The Lord-Captain

The entourage that had appeared scurried away with enough terror that one might have thought the Captain was the mad tyrant Goge Vandire himself!

When she turned back on Valadym she could see he had at least the good sense to feign confused terror, though it could genuine. When he spoke his tone was rushed and fearful "I apologize my lady! I never- I COULD never bare to 'urt you! It is a light show, tis all! I've seen it a dozen times, a dozen times a dozen times! I 'ave never had a reaction beyond appreciation of the beauty of it! I showed it to you merely to gauge 'ow you felt about the alien, if you too found beauty in the strange! It was simply to see 'ow amicable you were to this kind of product! I did not know it could 'ave this effect on... on ANYONE! I SWEAR!"

[Glarx]

He probably wasn't lying.

Probably wasn't good enough.

"You invite me to your home." She took a step forward, a little unsteady, her eyes narrowed and her voice icy. "You feed me dinner. You represent 'friends' on these rocks. And your friends, for whatever asinine reason, decided to try and kill me. What was it? Poison in the food? No, of course not, you wouldn't do that to the food, would you?" She exhaled sharply, cracking her neck. "Assaulting a Peer of the Imperium of Man is never wise, Vladaym, but when she has an Emperor-blessed battlecruiser in the harbor? You have a most remarkable lack of self-preservation to have thought that was a good idea."

She raised a finger to prevent any attempt at speaking. She wanted to say something. She was going to say it.

"I'm willing to believe you didn't know what your little box of horrors was going to do. I'm willing to not obliterate this spire and declare martial law over Footfall, bombarding it and destroying every single pathetic entity in this place. I'm even willing to not teleport in a squadron of my murder-servitors to turn this mansion of yours into a charnel house. Do you know why, Mr. Tocara? Because I'm feeling merciful tonight. Because I loved Dr. Faustus, and it seems unconscionable to rob the galaxy of that particular play.

"But that mercy is running out, Mr. Tocara. And you had better have a damn good way to shore up that commodity before it runs out."

[Rising Chaos]

Cort nodded as he took in Zeph's story. So no one had ever seen Cherno, typical, rising to power through mystery just added to the feelings Cort had towards this new leader. He had a plan, and he'd be more than able to put it together before Novem showed up, all he needed was-
With a thrill of horror he heard the door open and heavy footsteps of a person entering. Even before he turned to look he knew that only a tech-priest walked with that kind of weight. 'Wait, he's here, now?! What happened to 38.9 whatever minutes?!' Cort thought in surprise 'No, dammit! I still need my cover. No, wait, it's okay. I just need to stop him from coming over. If I can just-'. His heart plummeted as Novem reached his side and casually introduced himself to Zeph. Cort was a hair away from slamming his head on the table in frustration.

But he was better than that, a Lord Seneschal didn't reach his position by screaming and wailing as a plan fell apart. Instead he nodded to Novem, having maintained full composure throughout. He flashed the tech-priest a grin and a chuckle "Master Priest, you promised me a half hour to prepare for your arrival! Had I known you'd find your way so quickly I'd have prepared a bounteous selection of spirits for you!". He turned to Zeph and put on a look of mock insult "Z old buddy, what did you think I meant when I said I was making it big now! Not a security officer am I" He reached into his pocket and pulled out his ring of office. "When I say big, I mean ace. I'm the High Seneschal of the Rogue Trader Verata Dynasty now" he spoke the last part with an overblown high gothicky accent now, though he made sure to drop his tone so the others in the bar didn't notice his words, and shot Zeph a quick look to make sure he didn't exclaim anything.

Zeph's words about moving on struck a chord with Cort, he was about to ask the ex-enforcer about that before Novum walked in. He made sure no more attention was on Novem than himself and looked at Zeph with a dead serious glare.
"If you want on the Lord Captain's crew just say the word, you're more than welcome aboard, but this High Seneschal needs a favor or two from you right now. I need you to delay Rosa a bit, I want to speak with her before she goes. Also, if you've got any sparks around I'd like to take them off your hands for a bit."
He drained his tumbler and stood up. 'Sparks' was the name he had originally made for Zeph's homemade explosives, as Cort had joked "It's like a damn sparks show, except with more limbs" the first time he had seen the bombs in action. He glanced back at Zeph and muttered "Back in a sec, don't get into trouble. If it's too hot to get to Rosa just lemme know and back off"
He then turned to Novem, grinning again.
"Alright, let's get a connection going. I'll go first, xeno-traders are a little wary of cogboys. No offense."

He had pulled off his gang-belt as he'd gotten out of his chair. No reason to keep it on now that it was near-irrelavent. He sauntered over to the man with white dreadlocks and pulled up a chair, though he didn't drop into the seat. Fixing the man with a smile of the well-oiled before he spoke.
"Evening to ya. Heard you're a good man to talk to about acquisitions with the Kasbicalla"

[The Architect]

The Lord-Captain

Tocara motioned with his hands as he spoke, as if trying to calm the situation "I can, I assure you. I can arrange a meeting with one of the Kasballica Princes, a friend worth this hardship, no? A doorway to Princes across the sector, no? A path to a mutually beneficial relationship, no?"

~~~

Through the Serpent's Glass

Zeph is too stunned to say anything as Cort moves away, glancing to Novem as if expecting an explanation of how his friend jumped several steps up the cosmic order.

Then man with the white dreadlocks looks up and smirks dismissively "if you're a weary traveler looking for kicks I'd head for the brothels on St. Dulchis street two levels down. Tourists shouldn't be throwing that names around either," he looks Cort up and down "You don't look the sort to have the Thrones anyway, if say, I was friends with the royalty. What's your name anyway stranger?"

[Glarx]

"I find myself distrustful of friends currently." Her eyes narrowed and she cracked one fist before examining her nails. "Fine. A mutually beneficial relationship? I hope to see some benefit sooner rather than later from it, or I'll have my pound of flesh. Surely a patron of relic-plays will know that one. Do visit me on my ship soon, Mr. Tocara, once you have the meeting set up. I would love to show you around the Ebon Glaive. We have a variety of archeotechnological wonders that I think you'd find most fascinating. For now, I think I and my men will thank you for your hospitality, and make our way back to my humble little home."

[Rising Chaos]

Cort raised an eyebrow in mock surprise "Oh? I didn't think the brothels went the whole way down St. Dulchis now. My how time flies". He held the signet ring in his hands and showed it to the dread-locked man. "Corteaz Zollin is the name, but call me Cort. I know the get-up implies scum, but it helps to blend in a bit to avoid being jumped in these parts. But where are my manners? I represent the interests of the Verata dynasty, who have heard the reputation and prestige of the Kasbicalla and extend their greetings."
His demeanor had changed significantly, all business and pomp now. The ganger tinge to his accent fading away as he dropped into his chair.
"The dynasty understands the position of power the Kasbicalla have, and wished to send someone hailing from Footfall who would understand the best way to broker trade dealings with them. Hence why I've come here, I'm hoping you have the means to establish a deal with us?"

[Retrokinesis]

After having saved the ship from the horrors of the Warp, Ambrell returned to her chambers and collapsed. For a few seconds. The threads of Warp energy that served as the hidden manifestation of her navigator gene saw to it that her wounds took only moments to heal, but the encounter with the daemon had been mentally exhausting. Besides, it wouldn't do to have tales of her regenerative powers surfacing quite so soon. One's enemies couldn't plan for a hidden advantage.

She drained several glasses of the finest amasec while the crew and officers went about their business. The Captain had left the ship to browse the markets and Ambrell sent her a few humble requests for items that would aid in future navigation efforts. She was half considering heading to the station and wandering about until she encountered something dangerous when she learned of the incidents on the "haunted" deck. Now that had the potential to be exciting.

Leaving her hat but taking her cane, she heads for the deck of ill omens with a small contingent of House bodyguards. It didn't pay to be incautious, even on one's own ship. Arriving to see the Astropath speaking to several armsmen, she makes sure her approach is unmistakeable with loud thuds from her cane atop the metal decking. "Astropath Caius". She smiles; it doesn't reach her eyes. "I had an inkling that the reports from this deck might have something to do with our Warp storm encounter. It seems you had the same thought. I am certain the Lady-Captain would wish me to assist you. While two insightful eyes are good, five? Much better. Shall we?"

[The Architect]

The Lord-Captain

He bows repeatedly "of course, of course, you will not regret this my Lady."

When Lady Verata departed through the doorway to her entourage and Tocara was left alone he left out a long breath "well... that could 'ave gone better..."

~~~

Level 37

As the Navigator appeared Caius felt waves of apprehension flow from the Arms-men and he got the impression that the Navigator had not be awarded the fond regards that he had, and her sudden appearance had clearly put them on age, but Caius could also tell they would say nothing against her. Despite the events of late she was still a noble, and that warranted their respect.

~~~

Through the Serpent's Glass

The man blinks as he seems to forcibly change his internal opinion of Cort "Yes, I do. I can arrange a meeting with Prince Titane, of the Triumvirate of the Kasballica, but it would help if you could tell me what you're looking for? Work? Product? If you're looking for a seat at the table you're not going to find one."

[Inspector Valin]

Level 37

"Emperor willing, that's all we'll need. Sharp eyes, stout souls, and a bottle of amesec waiting for us later"

Scythia Wake chuckled as her boots rang out, heralding her passage along the deck. She looked resplendent; once again standing tall in her Navy uniform, complete with the golden trimming of Battlefleet Calixis. For the first time, however, she wore a golden sword by her side; a finely made thing with delicate engraved Aquillas that glinted in the low light of the hallway. Her old bolt-pistol rested at her other hip, metal faded over the years of use, but nonetheless a marvel of technology. She reached the end of the hallway, before bowing low twice, once to Marcus, once to Ambrell.

"Master Astropath, Mistress Navigator, my apologies for any lateness on my part. I was detained sorting Vox traffic on the bridge."The young void-farer winked towards the armsmen, assembled behind her. Good order was something she respected. "Good to see you didn't start without me. I'd hate to miss the fun."

The Void-Master kept the smile fixed upon her face as she looked between the two fellow officers, but Marcus could feel more emotions beneath Scythia's gaze. Fear, of what they were set to do here today, of the place they were venturing into. And anger at him for forcing her into it. The Astropath had not made a friend of the helmswoman with this request. Yet, here she stood, without compulsion, looking towards the turbolift. The doorway into potential hell. And it didn't take a genius to see why she was presenting this façade.

You can't show fear. Not in front of the men.

[devinebovine]

Novem picks up his swill and waves it in front of his facegrill to "smell" it. He says to Zeph, "Come now, you look like you've been in the Expanse long enough to know that family and breeding mean less here than in the Imperium. Why out here," Novem pauses to pour a small amount of the drink onto the floor, then makes a lip-smacking sound, "Even condemned criminals can become emissaries of galactic order."

Just then he hears the Kasballica agent ask Cort what he is looking for. Unable to contain his excitement Novem jumps up and hurries over to the two of them. "Oh product, most definitely, especially devices and weaponry. Work too, as we are most eager to liberate I mean trade with such illicit items. I am Novem, Explorator-Xenologus of House Verata. I hear you have a sword of light?"

[Toxic Mind]

Ambrell
"7 far the greater then. I intend to wait for-" He turns too early, and a few seconds later the errant Void-Master enters their little group. "Of course your help is always appreciated." "It would do good for the men to see that you serve with them in the trenches, it will do much to restore their faith." Cauis flashed to her, so as to be unheard by their present company. Whatever else may have occurred, it would not do for the men aboard this vessel to lack faith in their Navigator. Marcus would do what he could to remedy that situation.

Scythia

It did not take an Aura-reading to see the emotions beneath the void-master's face. She was clearly unhappy with being here. Marcus considered flashing her some sort of message or encouragement, but given their current location, he figured that she would be adverse to mind-mind contact. "Void-Mistress Wake, thank you for coming. The captain wanted this deck checked, and so we do what she asks." Marcus adds a smile to this comment, but he has little time for plesentries. They have a job to do. When it was done he would attempt to mend whatever rift had been created here. "These men are yours, and so I believe I can speak for the Navigator and myself when I say that we will defer to your orders and expertise in how we should handle this situation. We will assist you in all that we can."

[Rising Chaos]

Cort face was a mask of neutrality, but in his mind he was screaming. 'Emperor above Nov, I swear I'll find what internal organs you still have and strangle you with them!' he thought to himself. The second thing he wondered was what in the warp a sword of light was. Nevermind striking up a deal, now the tech-priest had revealed his entire hand to the contact.
Plowing on he laughed as the man mentioned a seat at the table "Ah my good man, our dynasty may be ambitious, but we would not dream of a seat at the table until we had at least shown our worth and power. We'd be far to dangerous an asset otherwise."
He gestured over to the tech-priest and continued.
"As he stated, this is our Master Mechanicus, Explorator Novem. I am blessed to hold the rank of High Seneschal of the Verata Dynasty. I trust that you understand the gravitas of my position now". He let that hang in the air for a moment before continuing. "As he says, Product and work are two orders of business. A small amount of weapons, and exploration gear would greatly aid our endeavors and we believe would be of little trouble for the Kasbicalla to help us procure. If we can meet with His Lordship Titane there is also some information we might be interested in procuring."
As he finished he glanced back to the tech-priest, then to the man.
"You can also assure your masters that we are not puritan Mechanicus, though I believe a knowledgeable man such as yourself would have realized that when this scummer came over to broker a deal. Ah, again my manners have fled me. I don't believe I've been graced by your name"

[The Architect]

The Lord-Captain

Once back aboard the ship her handmaidens, young strangely cold blonde triplets, inform of recent events, submit the shift report, detail continued vox signals from nearby ships.



~~~

Level 37

As the trio of high-ranking bridge crew were talking Officer Luca marched back over "Sir, the lift doesn't go down to the lower levels but we've lasered open an old welded shut bulkhead for our entrance point. We're ready to move out and head down once you give the order, Sir."

~~~

Through the Serpent's Glass

At the mention of the sword of light the man tucks away the foot long metal device, which on closer inspection Novem thinks may be archeotech, in his cloak "fine, fine. Name's Reez, Vin Reez, but don't spread that Kasballica stuff around like you're a tourist in future. I can get you a sit down with Prince Titane, but it's going to have to be on his ship, The North Wind, after that ganger boss got taken down in his own spire the Prince likes his meets on more controllable turf. You down for that 'Cort', or you rust-breath?"

[Glarx]

The Lady-Captain of the Ebon Glaive removed her fancy clothes, her makeup, checked to see if there was any more bleeding, and then sank into her bed. The micro-bead was still in her ear, she'd be able to communicate with anyone if they needed her, but by the Throne was she tired. And the vivid image, etched into her mind, and that stupid xenos language. All those limbs... definitely something unnatural about the whole thing. She still had half a mind to order the Glaive to blow up the spire, but she needed Tocara's contact first, his bribe. And if he had the testicular fortitude to not come to her ship, she wouldn't give it a second thought. His house would burn, with him and his staff in it.

With that cheerful though, she slipped into a light nap.

[Rising Chaos]

Cort shot Novem a stern glare and murmured "Don't ask him about his arch stuff now. We can figure that out later". He'd noticed the archeotech and wanted to make sure the priest didn't steamroller any of his other plans. Reez's reaction told him much, and he nodded with a grin "Have no fear good sir, my good friend is just a little jittery now that we're close to a partnership. I assure you I'll update him on the proper protocols of the Mission later. We're more than willing to meet on the North Wind at Lord Titane's earliest convenience. No one would want to go the same way old La'Phere did"
He turned to the tech-priest and nodded.
"If you don't mind, I need a list of what we'll require from these lads when we proceed to the meeting. Also if you don't mind contact the Lord Captain and see if we can't get an armsman or two down here"
He then turned back to Reez
"I can supply you with my vox-channel for the meeting. I assume standard proceedings, small retinue of guards allowed. No high caliber weapons, money up front sort of deal? The Kasbicalla has always been known for their high caliber of procedure."

[Inspector Valin]

Level 37

"Thank you, Captain. Your preparedness is appreciated."

Something seemed to fall away from the Void Master at Marcus' words. He trusted her. The Captain trusted her. And they were all here together. This was something she could handle. With a flourish, Scy bowed her head to the Astropath. "I appreciate the vote of confidence, Master Caius. But the perils of the Warp are not something I understand, and not something I feel best equipped to tackle." She chuckled, quietly but with more genuine humour than before. "Left alone, I'd probably just blow the entire deck to bits. But a more focused approach is best, and the two of you offer us that."

Words said, Scythia turned her attention to the Armsmen, grinning once again. There was a lot to that grin. Not too obnoxious, not too slight. You had to appear in control of the situation, even if you didn't feel it. "We don't know if there's anything more than tall tales on this deck. All we've heard so far is rumor and deck-lore. So we're going to check through the area, and see just how it's been faring." She glanced briefly towards the Twists, smiling towards them before continuing her words to the remaining crew. "We're here as an escort to Masters Caius and Modar, not to do the searching ourselves. You follow their orders, and do so quickly. Still, keep an eye out, and your weapon ready. I don't want any surprises."

They might have to retreat, of course. The Commander had already planed how to approach that matter: engage the Teleportarium and bring the Murder Servitors into the heart of the deck. But there was no need to share that contingency plan just yet. Simple orders given, the young officer made the sign of the aquilla, hands interlocked as she bowed her head, turning towards Luca's improvised entry point. In an uncharacteristically sombre voice, Mistress Wake intoned an old familiar catechism, her mind fading back towards better times. Towards the Lux.

"Take heed, ye who have surrendered to the Darkness
We shall be unbowed and unbroken
For in the depths of heresy and corruption, His glory shall shine
And the shadows shall retreat before the Emperor's Light."

Leaving this open for comments by Toxic and Retro before we head off.

[Toxic Mind]

Marcus draws his sword and his las pistol. the Longlas would have been nice he thinks idly to himself.

"Whatever else, this deck has seen its share of sorrow. We are here to bring the Emperor's Grace back to this place. Let us make no more delay."

"Officer Luca, the entry point, if you would. We are with you, as is His Will."

[devinebovine]

"Yes of course, a meeting on his ship would be most agreeable, and likely enlightening. And do my exhalations really reek of oxidation? I must have my apparatus scrubbed of moisture. Footfall's atmosphere has always been a challenge to deal with. Still better than Fenskworld, though."

To Cort he says, "A list, you say? Hmm, it will be most challenging to generate any kind of list when I do not know what we are exactly dealing with. And it's much more likely that we won't know that we need anything until we've seen what is available. For instance before we left Port Wander I . . . oh yes, I will contact the Captain."

Novem contacts the ship's communications via his vox-link and has them prepare a message for Lady-Captain Chelsea.

<<Madam Verata,
Cort and I have met a contact for one of the Kasballica Princes, a Prince Titane. He has agreed to set us up with a meeting with the Prince aboard his personal void-ship, The North Wind. This may be a meeting you would wish to attend, as the Kasballica has been known to set up lucrative trading contracts. Whether you intend to grace the meeting with your presence or not, Cort has requested for a small squad of armsmen to accompany us. Thank you my Lady, and with any luck we may have some xenotech to bring back!
Blessings of the Emperor and Omnissiah,
Novem>>

[Glarx]

She replied sleepily.

"When is this meeting scheduled to occur?"

[The Architect]

The Lord-Captain

There is a chirp in the Captain's microbead indicating a second line, there were two more chirps implying it was urgent, when she clicked over one of the bridge-vox technicians, a woman, spoke "Lord-Captain, there is a vox line from one Mr. Tocara coming through for you from Footfall, should we patch it through? He claims it's urgent."

~~~

Level 37


http://i57.tinypic.com/4jtefp.jpg

It does take long for the group to pass through the bulkhead, though they do have to squeeze through one by one, but the sudden realization that one has to trudge through bilge-water up to your knees, and the combat difficulties that might introduce in melee, was more than a little aggravating.

One of the men began to whistle in the back of the group but another man cut him off with a glare "Cut it Jonn, we ain't got have a clue what's down 'ere. If you want to be making noise make it somewhere where it won't get us all-"

He is cut off by the sound of something scuttling somewhere nearby, another of the men spoke in an annoyed and fearful tone "now look what gak your big mouth has gotten us into Bil. Frak, we've been 'ere what? Five minutes, FRAK."

Roll Awareness (Per) or Psyniscience (Per) please.

~~~

Through the Serpent's Glass

Reez rises as if preparing to leave "Well I'll speak to the 'igher up and if they give the all clear, which I might be supposin' they will, they yeah. Meet on his ship, low-arms, no more than a dozen guards beyond your entourage. This ain't going to be a deal on the table thing, no money up front just yet. You meet with the main man and you make your deal. He likes it and then he offers the deal, which whatever it is I recommend you take, for your own health at least. I'll send you the deets by vox when I've spoken to 'im."

At that the Captain's voice rings over the vox;


"When is this meeting scheduled to occur?"

[Glarx]

There was a little grumble. You're going to have to put your fancy clothes back on.

"Mm. Patch it through immediately. Just vox." Things were starting to pile up. Where was Cort when you needed him? Out doing your dirty work, while you make him compromise his beliefs with rhetoric designed to confuse and sway instead of actually being embraced as the truth.

She sat up in her bed and pulled her duvet over, just in case the crew activated the wrong rune.

[Toxic Mind]

"Courage men, the Emperor Protects." Marcus reaches out with his mind, searching for the source of the disturbance. He leaves the conventional searching to the lady Scythia, and relying on the Navigator to confirm his success or catch his failure.


[roll0] vs 39

[Rising Chaos]

Cort nods, pleased with how quickly he'd acquired a meeting with the Kasbicalla. When he'd been a member of the Wyrms a meeting took weeks of begging and arse-licking just for their scraps. Now it was done lickity split "Completely acceptable" he said with a nod of his head, also rising from his seat as he did so. "I'll let the Lord Captain know, hopefully we can send a small thank you parcel back your way once we've spoken with the Prince". At least if I give this lug some white void I'll be taking it off the street, he thought grimly to himself. He made his pleasents with Reez, bowed low, made his excuses to leave and walked away.

He turned back to Novem and put a hand on the tech-priests shoulder "Alright, we've got a contact and a meeting. So the plan for now is sit tight, wait for a response and see how it goes from there. We'll get Lady Verata on the horn and see if she wants to accompany us, otherwise I'll use this opportunity to see how much of our exploration supplies we can get and what Xenos gear they can provide us. On that subject what the gak is a sword of light? Quietly, if you please" he said, glancing around. People were still staring at them but as long as Novem didn't blurt out what it was they should be okay. He started to guide the two of them back towards the bar, hoping Zeph had returned and managed to get a hold of Rosa. As he walked he pressed his micro-bead and opened a channel to Lady Chelsea.
"Lord Captain, Cort reporting in" he spoke as he went. "We've got a meeting with Prince Titanae confirmed, time unknown, but the moment I know I'll vox back. Would you like to accompany us to the meeting when it happens? I'm sure the Prince would appreciate the presence of a Rogue Trader"

[Inspector Valin]

Scythia had kept her pistol and sword out, following their passage through the bulkhead. At the strange sound, the voidmaster's eyes narrowed, her gaze too passing about the dankened corridor. Her voice is cool, collected and set, ignoring the bickering amidst the men. The voice of a commander for the first time faced with a direct enemy to fight. "Raise weapons, ready on my mark."

She wasn't worried yet, in-spite of her earlier fears. Scuttling meant it was physical. Physical meant they could kill it.

Awareness, TN 35. Architect, is it ok for me to spend Scy's XP off the cuff like this? If not, that's fine, just halve the TN. I just ran with this as a starting point. [roll0]

[The Architect]

The Lord-Captain

Cort came over her micro-bead just before the line cut out and switched over to Tocara;


"Lord Captain, Cort reporting in" he spoke as he went. "We've got a meeting with Prince Titanae confirmed, time unknown, but the moment I know I'll vox back. Would you like to accompany us to the meeting when it happens? I'm sure the Prince would appreciate the presence of a Rogue Trader"

When Mr. Tocara's voice came over the line it took her a moment to recognize it, the overbearing accent was gone as were any hints of fear or much emotion of any kind "Lady Chelsea of House Verata, I have contacted the Kasballica and Princess Adria is willing to meet with you to discuss business matters aboard her flagship, the Exodus of Vermyre. It will take some time to arrange the meeting's details, but does this situation suit you?"

~~~

Level 37

Scythia picked out that whatever was scuttling was larger, not a vermin of any sort, but something the size of a man ... or larger.

Marcus reached out into the great ocean, rising into the first remuneration to still his mind as he searched, when he did he picked out a not the creature that had scuttled by but another light. The creature was not a demon, if it had been it would have been like passing a sun; no he detected something else trailing behind the group, perhaps around a corner or in the vent. It was a human, a Psyker.

One of the troopers spoke up "anybody got anything?"

~~~

Through the Serpent's Glass

As soon as Cort began to walk away Reez made for the door, leaving the establishment with an almost respectful nod to Novem and Cort before either had even left the table.

At the bar Zeph motions for them to come back over, and when the pair do he speaks "Hey Cort, Novem right? How did it go? And were you serious about me-"

Zeph is cut off by one of the doors to the back room opening. The trio glance over and see a young woman standing there, one eye a black pupil in white, the other still strangely tightly hidden by her hair. She wears a deep red hoodie over a loose faded white shirt and black looses pants. Slung over one shoulder was the strap of a duffel bag.

She looked up from beside the bar and then saw the strange trio. Her boss, a dead man and a tech-priest holding a tumbler of amasec.

Her one visible eye became nearly white as a her pupil shrank in shock "CORT?!"

[Glarx]

"I had so hoped you would have come to speak to me in person about this, Mr. Tocara. You truly haven't lived until you've seen the first-made Saturine-pattern Class 4A Ultra drive. An artefact of the highest calibre, of intense interest to the Adeptus Mechanicus. Wondrous. The craftsmanship? Impeccable. I had hoped your taste for the delicious and refined would have compelled you to visit with me. It only seems fair that I get to show off my home, seeing as you did yours.

"As for meeting with Princess Adria -- first, I would need to know the exact date, as I have several meetings scheduled for the future. As for meeting on her ship, that's certainly a peculiar position for me to be in. You'll understand that I'm leery of partaking in someone else's hospitality, given how abundant yours was. Tell me about Princess Adria, and the Exodus of Vermyre, if you would be so kind. And then tell me of Prince Titanae. Also, after we're done discussing business, you must share that recipe for the purple fruit with the caramel glaze, the one with the bright white flesh? Delicious."

[devinebovine]

Novem leaned in conspiratorially to Cort. "The only thing about the sword I know that you do not is that it can apparently slice a man horizontally with apparently little effort. Granted this wanting description was given to me by a vagrant twist child, but she saw something incredible, and that void-brain has it. Looked to be of ancient human make, and undoubtedly priceless. That it should be wasting away in wretched hands such as his...." He shook his head mournfully and made a sound that was meant to be a sigh, but which his voice modulator turned into a series of mechanical groans and clankings.

Novem sat back down at the table and took up his amasec. The meeting would likely take place within the next few days, and there would be time later to oversee the reports of repairs at the ship. Meanwhile he would sit among addicts and gangers, and alcohol he could not taste, and reflect on the good things -


Her one visible eye became nearly white as a her pupil shrank in shock "CORT?!"

"Throne, you know that wret-I-mean lovely girl? Hah, of course you do, what am I saying. Doesn't look like she's done as well as you, though."

[Retrokinesis]

Ambrell certainly wasn't happy about trudging through bilge water, but she was willing to endure for the sake of curiosity. She stares daggers at the Astropath for daring to suggest that faith in her needed to be "restored" when their earlier troubles were clearly the result of bad charts but says nothing. "Have no fear, for the Emperor's light reveals all things". Sweeping her bangs away with her free hand, her third eye opens are begins probing the deck for the taint of the Warp. . .
Psyniscience test v. 43: [roll0]
Gaze into the Abyss, half action, Perception test v. 43: [roll1]

[The Architect]

The Lord-Captain

When Mr. Tocara spoke again he was barely veiling his annoyance. He clearly didn't enjoy being spoken to like a servant but he likely couldn't simply cut the call either "Prince Titanae is one of the other two seats at the table, that table being the Kasballica Triumvirate in charge of all Kasballica dealings on Footfall. The third and finally Prince is a young man named Cherno. The Exodus is a Cruiser, moored here at Footfall, it's part of the Kasballica Triumvirate's fleet of a dozen or so vessels, most of which are docked here at the moment, and the rest are off in the expanse on various missions. Princess Adria mostly in charge of operations outside of Footfall, though she has her fingers in a few pies here as well. Titanae is the biggest of the Cold Traders. I can set the meet up for five days from today, if that is any good to you?"

~~~

Level 37

Ambrell senses the same pulse of untamed psychic energy, a young powerful unbound psyker, hiding somewhere behind them, but any other information she might gleam from a glance into the great ocean is fro the moment hidden from her.

[Glarx]

"That does sound delightful, Mr. Tocara. Do try and visit me soon, you really must see the murals in the Lord-Captain's Manse. If there's nothing else? I cannot thank you enough for dinner, you know. So many remarkable new flavors." The induced seizure was my favorite, you imbecile. Don't think you've repaid your debt.

Chelsea hoped Prince Titanae didn't want to meet in five days as well. She had a sneaking suspicion they were going to coordinate their efforts to try and screw with her, and that just wasn't going to happen. The last of the Veratas was a dangerous kind of Rogue Trader -- one who was willing to risk and gamble everything, having nothing really left to lose and oh so much to gain. Incidentally, she had a warship under her express command, which probably added a bit to the 'dangerous Rogue Trader' image.

If Tocara had nothing else to say, she would cordially end the conversation and contact Cort. "Try and make sure it isn't in five days. I'm apparently meeting with Prince Titanae's counterpart, Princess Adria. Also, I've heard something about this Prince Cherno -- it's almost serendipitous how my time on this little station has already brought me in contact, indirectly or not, of the three rulers of the Kasballica Triumvirate. Almost as if it's less to do with circumstance, and more to do with design... anyways, I have a task I need you to perform, looking for a Rogue Trader named Trask. It can wait, but I'd like to know if he's on Footfall before he leaves, if he is here. Don't forget to stay in touch."

[Toxic Mind]

Ambrell

Marcus caught the look that the navigator sent him. "I do not question your resolve, mistress Navigator, but the men need reassuring. I only meant that the course you have chosen, risking yourself to help us, is a wise one. These men respect action, not words. You are doing what you can with a bad situation. I have had experience with such things before." His voice is cold and deep, soothing like the seas of Terra were said to have been many eons ago. Despite the arms in his hands, Marcus' mind displayed only calm, only serenity.

Marcus snapped his search shut, hard. He had the information he needed, it did not do to press his luck and risk some backlash from the psyker following them. "Behind us. Psyker. Human, or so it would appear. No pinpointed location, but it is trailing us. For what purpose, I do not know. I advise that we attempt capture if at all possible. This poor creature's mind may reveal some of what has occured here. Still, take no risks with your own lives. If it attempts to harm any of us, end it." Marcus whispered quietly to the group. Whatever his personal feelins were, he knew his duty. An unsanctioned and unbound psker was a threat to the crew and the ship, and a possible entry point for the warp, INSIDE the ship's shielding. One way or another, it would need to be dealt with. Still, knowledge is power...

"Come out." He calls behind the group. "I can feel your presence. If you come out now, these men will do you no harm. I know firsthand the horrors of the warp, and surely our voyage was more trying for you. We can help." As he waits for a response, Marcus journeys through his own mind, trying to identify any further information about what was hiding from them.


[roll0] vs 48

[The Architect]

The Lord-Captain

The line cuts out when Lady Verata finishes, with no further vox messages being relayed from the bridge. She might finally have time to rest.

~~~

Level 37

Marcus knows that most rogue Psykers, even the rare ones who are sane, in relative control of the powers and moral, are fearful of approaching those who know their natures, for fear that they might be forced onto the blackships, a fate feared by all nascent psykers.

The light in the darkness beyond the turn at the end of the tunnel did not approach, but neither did it attack or flee. Was that trepidation? It seems unusual. The fearful would flee and the mad, violent or possessed would attack now that they had been detected. This Psyker did neither.

At the mention of a rogue Psyker the Armsmen ready their weapons "sirs, you sure that's wise? Sure we shouldn't just make sure the witch doesn't attack first and take our hearts too?"

[Rising Chaos]

Cort nodded as Novem described the sword, making sure Reez was well and gone before speaking.
"No, you're absolutely right. If the weapon is powerful we need it from them as quickly as possible. The only problem I see is what we shall trade for it, as I get the feeling coin wouldn't cover for an item like that. We'll need to ask Lady Chelsea what she's willing to offer them in exchange for it".
The notion of an archeotech blade intrigued him greatly. He was no melee combatant, but if the sword was that powerful and untainted it would make a beautiful weapon for the Lord Captain to wield in battle. He made his way back to Zeph and was about to tell him it all went well when he heard the door open. As Zeph's head turned Cort's did in reflex, and found himself looking right at Rosa. As she yelled his name he wondered why everyone was exclaiming so much today. Then remembered it was because A) He was supposed to be dead, and B) The cogboy wouldn't know subtlety if it was on the end of a hi-ex bolter round and fired up his nose.

He kept his hand on Novem's shoulder and looked the tech-priest dead in the eyes. He ignored the wretch comment, Footfall chewed people up like this, and though Novem had been spared that fate Cort understood it well. "Aye, she's an old friend. Things might get a little hairy soon, and I need a favor from you. Tell the bartender if he wants a position on the crew he should pack up now and get ready to leave with us. He's an explosives expert and could come in handy. Once he's ready get back to the Glaive and tell Lady Chelsea about the sword and what we should be ready to trade for. I'll be with you shortly"
With that he nodded to Zeph and walked towards Rosa, his walk was jaunty and confident, but he slid his hand into the vest pocket holding his hellpistol. He was on alert for edgy or jealous people. It didn't slip his mind that this Cherno might be in the room watching them. As he walked towards her he keyed his micro bead to the encoded frequency for the Glaive's command bridge and said softly. "Glaive Command, this is Seneschal Zollin, respond, over.

As he was waiting for a response Chelsea's voice cut through his micro-bead.

"Try and make sure it isn't in five days. I'm apparently meeting with Prince Titanae's counterpart, Princess Adria. Also, I've heard something about this Prince Cherno -- it's almost serendipitous how my time on this little station has already brought me in contact, indirectly or not, of the three rulers of the Kasballica Triumvirate. Almost as if it's less to do with circumstance, and more to do with design... anyways, I have a task I need you to perform, looking for a Rogue Trader named Trask. It can wait, but I'd like to know if he's on Footfall before he leaves, if he is here. Don't forget to stay in touch."
Everything was catching up to him at once, and he cataloged the information at a quick pace. So this Cherno may be one of the Kasbicalla Princes? If he was that would make life difficult... and yet... he remembered the Obsidion Emporium... he might need to tap into that resource now. Also the fact that Chelsea wanted to look into the Rogue Trader whose craft had killed La'Phere seemed like almost too much of a coincidence, he'd make sure he made time for that. He pressed his vox lightly.
"Of course my lady, it will be done"

By that time he reached Rosa, smiling warmly to her 'Emperor, what happened to you Rosa?' he thought to himself. He wondered if he could set the murder servitors to 'torture' when he found this Cherno. As he moved he made sure he was watching his back, and unbeknownst to him he started to leak a small amount of psyniscience. He looked at Rosa and said "Good to see we're both still alive. I'd like to catch up a bit if that's okay with you"

[The Architect]

Through the Serpent's Glass

A voice chimed through Cort's Microbead again "Glaive Command here, reading you five by five, sir, what is your status? Over."

It was as he spoke to Rosa that something happened. His hair stood on end at the back of his neck and a pinprick of psychic awareness, somewhere un-nurtured and forced down at the bottom of his slow clawed at him. He glanced around the room between Rosa and the dozen or so other men in the bar at this time, but he couldn't pick who ever he was feeling out. There was a Psyker here.

Rosa seemed almost lost for words, stunned, before she spoke after a moment's pause "uh, um, of course... I ... I thought you died on Inequity? I... Oh my Emperor... I..." She rubbed her visible eye then nearly leaped forward, wrapping her arms around Cort with a smile that looked like such a thing had long been rare on her face, she even knocked over a stool as she closed the distance "I can't believe it, we thought you were dead."

Zeph laughed with faked anger "You'll be dead if you break my bar hopping around like that, though I suppose Cort's new friend could always fix it and add cannons or wheels or something to the stools," Zeph let out a booming laugh that seemed half to dissolve any remaining tension, and half out of the joy of old friends and new opportunities, he even patted Novem on the shoulder across the bar, such that an onlooker might have mistaken him for just another old friend.

Yet Cort could still feel it.

There was a Psyker here.

[Rising Chaos]

What alarmed Cort more than anything else was that he knew there was a psyker here, with powers and abilities unknown. He assumed the worse as always, and was at least comforted in the fact that if the psyker was a mind devil he'd be able to feel the man ripping into his consciousness. He returned Rosa's hug with one arm, his other reaching to his vox and chiming it. He spoke in a low voice, which was becoming so common here he wondered if it would become his normal voice.
"Condition Yellow, over. Psy presence detected, alert Astropath Marius at earliest possible convenience, and thaw and ready unit's..." he paused, signing inwardly over what the Captain had named them "Happy and Snowball for porting at my location on my command. Verify you have location lock, over"

He knew Rosa could probably hear him, but he was hoping the shock of seeing him alive would drown out his words. He grabbed a few stools and dropped him in one and Rosa in the other, still smiling at the girl. "Sorry it took so long to get back here, but you remember what I told the gang right? It'd take more than the warp to kill me. I won't die till I'm good and ready to". He made sure to keep track of his words with Rosa, if anyone could hear him, and he was sure they could. He wanted to enforce, for now, that they were friends. Now the decision that came down to the wire was whether or not he should leave with them now... or leave, plan and come back for Rosa.

That decision was clear when he saw her smile. It was clear to her that she was suffering here, and he now needed to figure out how to leave and try not to bring heat down on the Verata dynasty... He looked back at Rosa, and his smile had a note of remorse behind it. "I'm surprised to see you alive Rosa, last time I saw you I thought you'd been taken out of the game for sure. How've you been?"

[The Architect]

Through the Serpent's Glass

A voice chimed in the microbead "Condition Yellow confirmed, unable to lock Teleportarium on your location, void shield interference. Should we prep Happy and Snowball for delivery by shuttle craft, sir? Please advise, over."

As Rosa pulled away she seemed not to have heard the vox exchange, at least not clearly "did you say something Cort?"

When she took her stool and heard Cort's last question she forced a smile "I've..." the faked smile intensified but she seemed to be thinking of something far off "I've been fine, better than fine. I've got someone new, really kind, looking after me."

Zeph got an angry look at that comment that both implied his knowledge the statement was false, and that he knew exactly why she was lying. Rosa continued though regardless "Zeph though was nice enough to give me a job here, to keep me busy, but what about your friend here? A priest of the Brotherhood of Mars, coming up in the world now aren't you Cort?"

She turned to Novem and outstretched her hand with a wide kind smile, which gave both the sense she was genuinely friendly and that the smile was for the benefit of others "I'm Rosa, it's nice to meet you, father."

[Rising Chaos]

Gakking void shields' Cort thought, he noted both the false smile and Zeph's annoyance. He had a plan, and as long as Novem stopped screaming bloody murder and he actually fell into a stroke of luck they might be able to pull through this... though thinking back to their journey here he started to put his contingency plans into place, which meant slipping his hand back into his pocket. He nodded as Rosa asked him about his position.
"Gak yes I am, managed to escape Iniquity by the skin of my teeth and attached onto a Mechanicus security detail. I'm guarding the Lord Explorator here now". He looked at Zeph and Novem, but in that look was a 'don't say anything to the contrary' glare, which he under toned by saying to Novem "Unfortunatly the Lord explorator doesn't speak unless tech is on the table, so I'm back to negotiator duties as well". Praying to both the Emperor and the Omnisiah that Novem would catch on.

He turned back with the same old grin on his face "Now I know the Mechanicus do not indulge in lavish dinners or parties, but seeing as how we recently confirmed a meeting with a good, strong merchant clan, and seeing as how I just ran into two of my good friends I think this calls for a celebration. I'd love to have you both accompany me back to our ship for a meal. A chance for my to catch up with you two. I've got my two days vacation all saved up and everything. Please accept, both of you, It would break my heart to see you two again after so long and be deprived of our friendship just as quickly."

He kept praying to the two (one and the same? He could never remember what the Mechanicus thought) deities that everything would go smoothly. All the while looking out to see if that psy presence spiked in any way.

[Toxic Mind]

"I want information more than death. We are here to find the cause of the problems on this deck, and remedy it. This creature has likely spent much of its life here. It could take weeks to learn what this thing already knows. Furthermore, it seems neither scared nor hostile. I am going to attempt to contact it. Should something go awry, your standing orders are to kill anything you believe to be tainted by the warp or a daemon.... myself included. However, should it come willingly, you are not to harm it." He said the last part loud enough that he hoped the creature could hear.

Marcus reaches out not with his voice, but with his mind. He focuses solely on the being at the end of the tunnel. "My name is Marcus Caius. I do not wish to harm you. You have my word as the Astropathic Choirmaster of this vessel that if you come out, the men with me will not threaten you."


[roll0] vs 49 (If Opposed Test Necessary)

[Inspector Valin]

Scythia lets Marcus say his piece to the armsmen, before nodding, re-enforcing his words with her own, quietly but firmly. "If this comes to witchery, no one's better than Master Caius. You want someone to advise you on fighting witches, listen to the man whose seen the Golden Throne."

No matter how many times she thought about that fact, Scy couldn't help but find that impressive. Grinning for a second to the astropath, she gestured to the Armsmen. "Back ahead. Form a circle; I want eyes in all directions, just in case this is a distraction. Give our two warp-seers space to talk with their new friend without us all glaring at the witch." Scythia moved to follow her men, securing the rest of the immediate area as best she could, but glanced back between Marcus and Ambrell, her prior confident grin having been replaced by a look of concern. Dealing with warp-witches wasn't a task to be shoved off on anyone, even the two people aboard best qualified to deal with them.

We're here if you need us, friends. Emperor's Grace.

[The Architect]

Through the Serpent's Glass

They both seem to buy the story, at least the parts Zeph doesn't already know aren't true in his case, but despite that Rosa seems forlorn "I'm ... sorry Cort, but I can't. I've got... commitments here that mean I can't take a night off."

Zeph whistled and Rosa shoot him a look that said all she needed too, then Zeph spoke "Well I'm in. Haven't had good eats in quite some time."

~~~

Level 38

A voice piped up over Marcus' microbead, a vox caster from the bridge crew "Sir, Seneschal Zollin is requesting advisement when you are ready, he believes he is in the company of a Psyker, should I patch him through?"

As this is being said a figure steps out from behind the corner at the other end of the corridor. The figure is so short the bilge water comes up to its waste, and judging by the conditions of the rags it wears it is used to such conditions. It is a small child, female, roughly ten Terran cycles old at the group's best guess. Her eyes were a faded red, while her hair was a great dirty mess of white that was more than long enough to drag along in the water behind her. The best guess would be that it was naturally white, but with all the dirt it was closer to grey, or even black in places.

The child surveyed the group but came no closer. When she spoke her voice was fearful but she was clearly trying to stop herself from crying "Have you come to bury mummy?"

Ambrell and Marcus were no doubt more taken aback then the others, even the armsmen who were even now aiming their shotguns at the little girl. Even for an unbound psyker she was strong for one who was so young yet seemed... well sane. Perhaps she had some form of training, that allowed her either her strength or her control Marcus pondered? That implied yet more psykers down here though and if there were they had abandoned this child and moved back outside his, and Ambrell's, range of detection.

[Toxic Mind]

"Yes child. We have come to make sure that you are safe, and that your mother receives the rites of the Emperor." Marcus kneels, the water pooling around him the farthest from his mind. "Are there more like you? Near where your mother is?" Marcus holds out a hand to the armsmen, warning them to wait. Compassion lights his features. "That was a very scary journey we had, wasn't it?" He keeps his voice calm, but now there is warmth, caring.

"Forgive the intrusion, but contact the vox officer and have him patch the Senechal through to both our coms. Tell him to begin talking. I will relay what needs to be done via this medium and you will have to be my voice. I dare not interrupt this with words. " Marcus flashes quickly to Scythia, his expression unwavering.

[The Architect]

Level 38

The little girl nods warily "it was ... There... There used to be more, but..."

She looks back and then a few moments later the groups hears a scuttling, she clearly turned to look at where it would come from before it could be heard "there used to be many of us... but now there's... just me. There are the people in Twist town but... I ran away when the Lower-Ones attacked. My mummy said that the storm outside made using the gift too dangerous for me... but the other guardians were dying, burning out and being killed by the Lower-Ones... oh Emperor... when I was running away from Twist town I could still hear the ... the people dying. I..."

She falls to her knees and her head barely peaks over the rancid water "I'm so SO sorry, we failed you, I failed you... please don't send me to be eaten by the Emperor, please, oh Emperor, please!"

She tries to collect herself and continues "my mummy got away but she was bleeding and I couldn't stop it... she just... went out... she didn't get to tell me anything... I couldn't do anything... now I'm the last Guardian... I'm so sorry we failed you."

[Toxic Mind]

"Hush child. We are here, and we will protect you from these Lower Ones." Gaius extends his arms, opening them to embrace the child. It is an invitation, a promise of safety. "Come with us. Let us leave this place. There is food, and safety, above. On my honor, no one shall harm you. I am a guardian of this ship and its crew. Once we leave, we can share our missions. I'm sure I can help. You can ask the men behind me. I protected them from the storm and it's terrors. I can do the same for you." He smiles, and but for his blinded eyes, Marcus appears nothing more than a benevolent father, talking to his errant child.

"Commander Scythia. We are leaving with the child. Now. Something slaughtered the people of Twist town, and whatever these Lower-Ones are, I believe them the cause. But we cannot find what we need here. Once we know more, we can return with the proper forces. I can search her mind for what I need, but it cannot be done here." There is a harsh urgency in Caius' mind during the sending. His enhanced hearing has not failed to notice the skittering sounds around them.

[Rising Chaos]

Cort was starting to realize why the fabled Master of Whispers used fear to control. It was so easy when you didn't care about those beneath you. He was trying to put all the pieces of a new plan together, but every way he tried he couldn't add up all the part of the plan correctly. He'd been so focused on making everyone around him believe his story he didn't have anything for when Rosa refused his offer. Every option he thought up either lacked the time or materials, WHY ISN'T THERE ENOUGH GAKKING TIME he yelled to himself in his head. The plan he was trying to put together now was to convince her to come anyways, but what then. Then Cherno get's angry and if he was truly a Kasbicallan Prince there was no way to bar him until they'd met with the other two seated members.

The easiest answer was floating right in front of him 'Let her go tonight' it said 'It gives you time to plan, and gather materials, and it also let's you get info out of others', but that option was horrible, wasn't it? It left too much at stake... what if something happened to Rosa? What if this was the crossroad where he failed her, just like his crew he'd failed on Iniquity. Drek, Jeruss, Baltin, Ortez, Miria, Anria... Torque... the thought of his brother brought back the darkness, and with it came a small voice 'What if she did die? You've already lost her once, you'll get over it again'

...That thought terrified him, was this how callous he was now? Was this what he had become? 'You have a duty' the voice said 'When you pledged yourself to the Verata's you promised to uphold the dynasty, and look at you now! Thinking of going up against a Prince for one girl! There are too many variables because you don't even know your Captain's opinion! Stop being so brash! Stop thinking like CORT, that's what gets your friends killed'. He sat there numbly for a moment, his smile was slipping, but he took a breath and looked back at Rosa.

"Well... if you're sure...that's... that's a shame..." he said, a strange tinge to his voice. "Hopefully your free tomorrow morning? I'll give you my vox-channel for now... Gimme a shout when you know if you can or not. I've still got one free day after tonight". With a start he realized what the tinge was, sadness, a genuine touch of sadness and concern had slipped through the mask of carefree happiness he'd always kept on the surface, ever since Iniquity.
But the voice had won, was it Cort? Was it the psyker? He didn't know, but he was tired of variables and plans breaking into pieces. Statistically speaking Rosa would be fine, like every other night. But Cort had a bad feeling. Nothing had gone their way so far, from the warp to Footfall, why should it start now? But the plan was in motion and he'd see it through to the end, regardless of what happened to him in the process.

He stood up from his chair, and had the vague notion of a burning sensation coming from the hand in his pocket. He glanced at Zeph "Master Novem will show you to the ship Z. I'll see you there in a bit, couple of... things I need to take care of first". He was still fighting to keep non-chipper emotions out of his voice, but he seemed to be winning at a disturbing rate. By the time he looked at Rosa his voice was back to normal. "Have fun tonight Rosa, and gimme a call in the morning. I want to catch up with you before I have to ship out again"

He waited just long enough for a response from either of them, slipped his vox-frequency to Rosa, then turned and strode out of the bar, his body felt like it was on fire, but his mind felt disturbingly calm, and he chimed into his vox once again. "Glaive Command, situation... is clear for the time being, shuttle in Units Happy and Snowball over, along with an armsman overseer for them. Alert the Lord Captain that I am taking both units out as I finish up my transactions for the night. If she wishes to accompany send my location, but I doubt I'll see combat for the night. Also update me on the sit-rep of the assistants I sent into Footfall, over."
He kept striding until he saw a small alleyway, it still contained the same shady stall with a now wizened man behind it. A grim smile slowly spread across Cort's face, as he walked towards the man. The words for a transaction already on his lips...

I'm going to have Cort willingly gain an insanity point as his plans and willpower crumble on him.

[Inspector Valin]

Scythia's grip upon her sword-hilt tightened at the sight of the young girl, bobbing through the water. She'd heard the taproom speak of a child psyker being caught and getting executed during the voyage. Warpspit, she'd signed off on the Armsmen's report over the matter. And yet now, another young Witchling stood before them, almost the ghost of the girl who'd come before. Another threat... even if she looked for all the world like just one more terrified little girl, who'd just gone through a harrowing experiance.

But as the little witch spoke, Scy's prior calm look began to fade, her skin turning pale at the young psyker's infomation. Some brief part of her muttered that it might all be lies, and yet... the armsmen would believe it. And would likely tell others once they went off duty.

Twist Town. A whole coven of 'Guardians'

She knew discipline was more lax on a Rogue Trader vessel, and was familiar with a few details of the Ebon Glaive's history, but she'd never expected things to have fallen to such a degree as this. Unsanctioned Psykers living in villages between the cracks. Mutants, or what she hoped were merely mutants, leading rading parties against them. And all of this was being revealed to the rest of the crew right now, through their own bodyguard detachment. Immediately after they'd gone through a punishing warp voyage.

This could sink morale unless we deal with it decisively. They'll likely blame the Warp Storm on these witches. And keeping one of them alive...

Scythia shook her head, dismissing the thought. The girl's fate was the province of Marcus and Lady Chelsea: if they deemed her worthy of saving for the Black Ships, that was their decision to make, not hers. She stepped forward, gesturing for the men to follow her. voice calm, set and certain. "Forward. The Chiormaster says she's reliable, so we're to take her out of here for further questioning. And come back with Murder-Servitors for the 'Lower Ones'"

Still, Scythia had a question of her own for the self-appointed 'Guardian', one that couldn't wait for later. She moved through the water to join the trio, lowering her pistol for the moment. The Commander looked down, trying to meet the wyrdling's gaze with a smile, just as she had before. Witch or no, the kid deserves some positivity "Little one, we've had reports of a young Psyker, just like you. She spoke of a 'shattered mirror'. Do you know anything about that?" The Commander didn't look to either side, didn't acknowledge the Astropath or Navigator. Her focus was on the girl. At least for the moment.

[devinebovine]

Novem did not comprehend all that had transgressed around him. In a brief amount of time he witnessed many emotions wash over Cort, and without knowing much of the man's history little of it made sense to him. But as mechanical as he was, he had not made it so far by being completely unobservant. So he did comprehend that Cort needed him to play a role, one which he took to quite well as he pretended to ignore the girl and used his combi-tool to analyze and then rework the amasec tumbler to measurements just shy of .000032% perfect circularity, shaving off nano-sized slices of the repurposed scrap metal it was made of. However he also remained alert and ready for action. Keyed into the ship's vox channel as he was, he knew that Cort had some sort of plan involving the blessed devices of machine vengeance. Once Cort had left and the girl <<Name: Rosa. Age: Mid-20s likely. White Void addict. Behavior indicative of emotional dependence. Unresolved romantic feelings.>> had gone on her way, Novem passed the artisan-tumbler to Zeph.

If you think you're up for ship life, come with me. Take only what you can wear or carry in pockets. You'll find less than luxury on board, unless work your way up to high-level command. But our Lady Captain is noble of purpose and rewards those who work hard for her, and if Cort thinks you could be an asset, then I will be the first to welcome you aboard.

The Tech-Priest led Zeph back to the Ebon Glaive, sending and receiving sub-vocal vox-relays the entire way, coordinating remaining repairs with the repair overseers. The third bank of buttresses on the port side were coming along nicely, despite masonry being of different stonework. Apparently granite was a rare commodity on Footfall.

[Retrokinesis]

Ambrell listens to the witchling's story and isn't particularly surprised. Most ships had festering holes full of mutants in their lower decks, although it meant the twist-catcher wasn't doing a very good job. A whole community of unbound psykers, though? That was surprising. Equally surprising was Marcus' compassion and understanding. If it was an act, it was a very good one. Ambrell had a soft spot for children, even potential mutants, and nods to the Astropath. "Agreed. It behooves us to learn what she knows before we act. I cannot imagine anything called a 'Lower One' is a good thing, however".

She briefly probes the child with her third eye, looking for evidence of the taint of Chaos.
Gaze into the Abyss: Perception check v. 43: [roll0]

[The Architect]

The Lord-Captain

While lying in bed, finally getting the chance to sleep, a voice comes over the vox again "Lord-Captain, Seneschal Zollin has just ordered the delivery of two murder-servitors and an armsman overseer to his location. He asks you to join him if you wish to, my lady, please advise, over."

~~~

Level 38

With fear still in her every moment she moves slowly into his embrace before very nearly collapsing as he takes her. When Scy speaks she turns and looks at her for the first time and ***** her head to the side as if looking at Scy confused or unsettled her. She blinks and her eyes begin to water as if staring into a strong wind. She seemed to ignore whatever Scy asked, if only because of the effect looking at Scy was having on her. She presses her face into the curve of Marcus' shoulder, asking him "who are those women? Why do they all look the same?"

As Ambrell is examining the girl she finds the warp is again murky and closed off to her, it has not been Ambrell's month...

~~~

Through the Serpent's Glass

Rosa nods warmly "I can meet you at the docks, to... talk, catch up I mean."

Once Cort is gone Rosa collects her things and heads off with a smile to Zeph, at that Novem speaks his piece;


If you think you're up for ship life, come with me. Take only what you can wear or carry in pockets. You'll find less than luxury on board, unless work your way up to high-level command. But our Lady Captain is noble of purpose and rewards those who work hard for her, and if Cort thinks you could be an asset, then I will be the first to welcome you aboard.

Zeph seems stunned for a moment then hits the bar a few times shouting "everyone get the frak out unless they want some new bullet wounds!"

Once the place cleared out Zeph pulled his hand through his air, looking obviously anxious "I... if I leave for good then Rosa ain't got nobody to look out for her, not really. You tell bigshot Cort that whatever happens he gets her out of here. Anyway..." he moved over to the cash register and emptied it, before pulling a revolver from under the bar. He stowed it and glanced back over the bar "the bar I open on that ship of yours better be better than this one, 'cause I'm going to miss this place."

With that he follows Novem out of the bar and back to the ship.

As Cort begins to barter and trade he is informed that the servitors are on route to his position, still in containment.

[Inspector Valin]

That... was not the reaction you wanted to see from a witch when she was looking at you. Especially with a squad of armsmen standing close at hand, shotguns drawn. Scythia tensed, grip tightening upon her pistol, face blanching a little at the child's words. Her mind wandered back to her dream, the image of two versions of herself, standing across from each other before the mirror shattered, into an infinite number of pieces...

What have you done to me, wyrdling? What are you trying to hide?

She didn't know. And ultimately, Scy couldn't afford to turn this into a confrontation. People would get the wrong idea. The Commander stepped across, placing her pistol back in it's holster, finally drawing level with the little girl, and meeting her gaze as directly as she could. Gently, doing all she could to keep her smile intact, Scy tapped her on the forehead. "Ignore the Warp, child. Use your eyes."

With a wink, Scythia removed the finger that rested on the young twist's head, tapping herself upon the forehead in the same spot. "There's only one of me. Scythia Wake. Helmsmistress of the Ebon Glaive." She glanced behind her, face carefully neutral as she turned to Ambrell. "Behind me is Lady Modar, the ship's navigator. Us two, and you are the only women here."

[The Architect]

Level 38

The small girl blinks again and shakes her head. She then nods warily, as if almost agreeing with Scy simply because she was carrying a sword that could bisect the small child "are you going to help the people in Twist town, I know they're not guardians but..."

The girl is cut off by one of the armsmen "Sirs, we're ready to exit the level when you give the word, we've sent three of the men ahead to secure the bulkhead."

[Glarx]

The Lord-Captain

While lying in bed, finally getting the chance to sleep, a voice comes over the vox again "Lord-Captain, Seneschal Zollin has just ordered the delivery of two murder-servitors and an armsman overseer to his location. He asks you to join him if you wish to, my lady, please advise, over."

The sleepy Rogue Trader sat up and started to get dressed, putting on a body sleeve to make the armour more comfortable. "Yes, yes, make it four and have twelve armsmen. They're to wait for me to arrive. I'm on my way." A delivery of murder-servitors? What did that language mean? She had been clear about the teleportarium being used if people were in danger, but she had been invited, and the voxman hadn't sounded particularly rushed or scared...

She activated her holo-suit and locked her storm trooper helmet in place. "Which hangar am I en route to?"

[Inspector Valin]

Level 38

"There are..." Scythia's surprised words trailed off quickly, interrupted by the armsman. The girl had talked about what sounded like annihilation, but... she still thought people had survived?

But the delusion could be tackled later. The report given, Commander Wake bowed to her subordinate. "Thank you, officer. Good initiative." She looked back to the little Witch, expression a touch calmer. At least the topic had moved away from multiple Scythias. "Young one, I don't know how things are in Twist Town. But I... will do what I can for them. We might need your help, but if there are people capable of saving, they will be saved. That is my duty as an officer of the Ebon Glavie, and a servant of the Emperor."

That was true, and a founding principle of the Navy, though applying it to the ship's mutants and witches was pushing the matter. Scy tilted her head, trying to smile at the girl, letting her sword point towards the ground. Less obvious a threat, but she needed something in hand. Something to hold. "I told you my name. What's yours?"

[The Architect]

Level 37

Marcus carries the girl as they wade through the bilge water, returning the bulkhead and sealing it again behind themselves as the girl replies to Scy "I'm Astra," she said with the hints of a genuine smile, she seemed to be starting to warm up to Scy "What's your daughters name?"

One of the armsman gave Scy a look at that, Bil she thought, it wasn't a leer more the curious look of a man who thought he'd heard something he should, he wasn't on the right bus to be looking at Scy another way. Officer Luca spoke again once the group were all safely back on Level 37, stinking of bilge water and soaking wet "how do you plan to proceed, sirs?"

~~~

Footfall

The Lord-Captain arrived with her entourage, looking like a funeral entourage as they were back by two large black coffins covered in mechanicum devices, stasis caskets. The dock itself was little more than a dumping ground for shuttle crafts, filled with landing crew and the debris of mechanical junk. One of the arms men came before, flanked by two others, and then the Lord-Captain realized it was her triplet handmaidens in body armor My lady, do you know why First Officer Zellin needed our assistance?"

You can describe your entrance to the dock to collect the group and explain where the frak you're going with all this. :smalltongue:

[Rising Chaos]

Is it possible to say an hour or two has passed since Chelsea left for the hanger? What with the trying to finish my investigations and whatnot :smalltongue:

"Because I've indulged my own petty needs long enough today and thought the Lord Captain may with to accompany us for some good-old fashioned dangerous shopping and mingling" Cort said from, surprisingly close to the arms man who had spoken.

Cort looked... off, in a few ways. He had his camoline cloak draped around his shoulders, which covered all but his feet and hands. His right hand was wrapped in cheap medical gauze, but there were still hints of blood seeping through the dressing. His hair was not so much disheveled but almost wild, which gave him a slightly manic look. He didn't seem to notice these changes though, he was running on a nice amount of adrenaline at the moment. The last time he'd contacted Glaive command had been ten minutes after he'd invited Lady Verata here, asking for an update on his assistants that were on station looking for food supplies and trying to meet with the Red Schola.
He had spend his time since then stalking the streets and shaking down everyone he could find for information on 'Prince Cherno'. Starting with merchants and making his way up to gangers and enforcers. He's still managed to keep a professional air about it, not mentioning his name, rank or what dynasty he represented. He'd gotten a bit of info, but the nagging voice in his head had won out in the end. He still had a duty to the dynasty, and it was high time he started working for it.

He bowed to Lady Verata, then smoothed his hair down as he noticed what had become of it. "Apologies for disturbing you my Lady, at the present moment I summoned backup because I plan to visit the Red Schola. They are... slavers, but extraordinarily gifted slavers who are known to produce servants who can perform any task imaginable with superb results". He paused for a moment, who ever thought he'd be praising the Red Schola in his life?
"The meeting with the Schola would go much smoother with your presence, which is why I invited you here. I understand the notion of slavery is a dark one indeed, but I believe with our current state of affairs practicality outweighs ethics"

"There is also the matter of Captain Sarvus Trask. All I have at the moment is the knowledge that an unknown assailant stole a ship belonging to Trask and used it to kill a prominent gang leader by flying it into the man's house. The easiest course of action would be to ask Liege Thantus for information, as a Rogue Trader you would be able to enter the Liege's Court with little resistance, and even if Thantus is not available the Court offers a chance to cultivate contacts and ask others for information.
Other than that I have been looking into some sort of an estate on the station. A base of operations may serve the dynasty well, especially if we plan to frequent Footfall once our endeavor is complete. The Schola may know of places we could purchase, and there exists a merchant guild known as the Obsidion Emporial that deals in secretive hideouts and the like. If we could-"
He stopped, and glanced to the door of the port, a single drop of blood falling from the wrappings on his hand, then he shook his head. "Apologies my Lady. It only occurs to me now that I should have vox'd you my intentions first before inviting you here, and at the very least pinned down more solid leads with any of these three factions... I've found myself a bit strung out lately, but that is no excuse for a man of my position...". He looked at the Captain with a sad smile "I suppose my operations and plans are not as ironclad as I liked to imagine. At the very least the Schola and Leige's court should show you the clashing natures of Footfall"

[Toxic Mind]

As the bulkhead seals, Marcus feels the child tense around him. "Do not worry Astra, we will be returning to help those below. This measure is only temporary, to prevent the Lower-Ones from doing more harm." He smiles at her. "Would you like to come with me and meet the captain? She's quite the lady."

To Officer Luca, he says "Post a guard on the bulkhead, make sure it remains sealed until we can return. Once I talk with Astra here, we can come back armed with knowledge and weapons to help those still below, no matter their situation."

Marcus reaches out for the captain, and found her mind missing from the ship. He hits his comm bead. "Captain? We have returned with a high value" he smiles at Astra again "person of interest. When do you expect to return to the Glaive. I would have you meet her before we begin. "

As they begin to depart, Marcus extends his mind. "Officer Luca, forgive the intrusion, but I dare not speak with the child here. You claimed that you and your men trust my judgement, and I ask you to continue doing the same. I know that bringing this child may make some of the men uncomfortable, but if believe it necessary to save live in the future. Please have the men keep this quiet, at least for a few days. You know better than most that men fear psykers, and I would not want anything to happen to the child."

[The Architect]

Footfall

The Glaive Command crew had informed Cort that restocking supplies would take a little over a week more, bar the expenditure of significant resources, and that the Red Schola were currently open to meetings with little notice for someone representing a Rogue Trader, according to his envoys.

A few moments after Cort finished a voice came over the Captain's microbead;


"Captain? We have returned with a high value" there is a pause "person of interest. When do you expect to return to the Glaive. I would have you meet her before we begin. "

Yes, we can say that.

~~~

Level 37

Luca salutes and motions for a trio of the men to form up on the bulkhead for first watch. Astra nods at the mention of the Captain "I heard he's really nice!" The little girl said, clearly referencing Chelsea's predecessor.

[Toxic Mind]

Astra nods at the mention of the Captain "I heard he's really nice!" The little girl said, clearly referencing Chelsea's predecessor.

"True enough, though Lady Chelsea has taken over as Captain now. She is just as nice, I promise you. Once, she and her father saved me from a band of pirates. Lady-Captain Chelsea likes helping people in need."

Marcus pokes one of the armsmen in the arm and draws an imagined sabre with the hand not holding the girl. "Release the prisoners, pirate scum! The house Verata will not stand for your wickedness!" They fight an imagined duel as they walk, which naturally ends with the 'pirate' slain.

Marcus quickly makes eye contact with his cohort and speaks to his mind. "My thanks for your cooperation, Armsman Valen. A happy psyker" he motions his eyes towards the smiling child "is a safe pskker."

[Glarx]

That was a lot to process. "Hello, Cort. Yes, that was a lot of information you just gave me. Going to the Liege's Court will be on my agenda now. And do you intend to see the Schola now? I agree with you that practicality and pragmatism win out over ethics in times like these. Discussing the opening of a headquarters on this station would be fruitful, although I don't believe we have the personnel required to staff such an area now. Oh, one moment." She put a finger to her ear and listened to the astropath.

"I see. Before you begin what? I may be out for several hours at a meeting, I can't be sure. Is it something absolutely pressing?"

[Inspector Valin]

Scythia breathed out, slowly, at Astra's question, trying still to maintain her calm. The girl was called Astra. Named for the stars themselves. And she could see whatever was affecting Scy, in a way the Commander couldn't really understand.

Thankfully, Marcus interrupts, changing the tac of the conversation dramatically. Wake grinned at the Astropath hugging the girl closely, but a touch of unease entered her eye. Showing this much affection for what was ultimately a witch was... troubling. In most, it would be a sign of heresy. Perhaps Marcus was more sympathetic to the child's situation, but nonetheless...

And then, he offered to take the little Wyrdling girl to see the Captain.

As the Master Astropath met the gaze of one of the Armsmen, he felt the Void Master's hand on his shoulder. Her voice was cold, though her expression was carefully set. "Chiormaster? May I have a word, before we go much father?"

Scy gestured back towards the turbolift, sighing to herself, but managing a weary grin. "In my office, if you please? I feel that I need my Amasec."

[Toxic Mind]

++ A moment please, captain. Something has come up. Continue your mission, it can wait until you return. ++

Marcus nods his ascent, and they break from the group. "Arms-Officer Luca. Take Astra to my quarters and post yourself at the door. No one is to enter that room without my express permission." his look is pointed.

Marcus kneels, putting Astra down, and bringing himself to her level. "Astra, go with the nice officer. He will keep you just as safe as I would. I will come as soon as the Commander and I are done." Marcus smiles broadly and warmly, but it takes everything he has to not leak worry from his very skin.

They reach Scy's office quickly, and once the door is shut, Marcus whirls around, transfixing the woman with his sightless eyes. "The meaning?"

[Rising Chaos]

Cort nodded, as Chelsea responded with her vox he contacted the bridge "Glaive Command. This is Cort, alert my assistant at the Red Schola we will be heading there shortly. He is to rendezvous with us and provide any contact names or information he has acquired. Alert the food assistant, thank him for his work and reroute them to the Liege's Court. They are to attempt to set up a meeting with Liege Thantus, if they are successful tell them to contact me for confirmation on what time and day the meeting is to take place. Any other assistant available for work are to set arrive on station and vox in to me for orders, tell them only those who seek promotion need arrive. That is all, over."

With that he turned back to Chelsea, the old smile returning to his face "It is my intent to visit the Schola now and see about recruiting new workers to replace the brave souls we lost in the journey here. With any luck we'll also be able to recruit some more... free-minded servants who could look into running a base here should we be able to acquire one. I'll see about scrounging up some transport for us, in the meantime I have taken the liberty of compiling a list of equipment we may wish to purchase from the Kasbicalla once our meeting has been set up. Feel free to add or take off any items you deem unnecessary."
Cort bowed and passed Chelsea a small chip containing his list, then turned and set about trying to flag down a civilian or military bus or transport of slightly higher-class.


Cort's list of items contains the following. His list contains a small legend, where a Green tick means high priority and a yellow tick means low priority.
Aquilla Magnificus - Yellow
Bomb Spray - Yellow
Detcord and Det-Cord - Yellow
x5 Emergency Hab - Yellow
x5 Flex-Tent - Green
Jovian Pattern Modular Hab-Base - Green
Gravity Generator - Green
Lingua Vox-Servitor - Yellow
Locke-Pattern Long-Range Auspex - Green
Locke-Pattern Stasis Pod - Yellow
Perimeter Defense System - Yellow
5+ Physik Kits - Yellow
5+ Medipacks - Green
200+(?) Environmental Suits - Green
- If taken is Gravity Generator necessary?

The note at the bottom seems hastily scribbled from a stylus.

[Inspector Valin]

Scythia fell into her chair, grasping a dusty black bottle and pouring a full measure from it. Absently, she pushed the alcohol gently to the other side of the table, making a mute offer to Marcus even as she downed more of the liquid than perhaps she should. Sighing, and breathing deeply for a second, before meeting the Astropath's lidless white gaze.

Her words are starved of that past positivity and good humor, but the Helmswoman manages to more or less maintain an even tone. "Chiormaster, I understand your point of view. I agree with you, to a point. But I would like to be certain that you've approached this from a detached angle." Scythia gestured to the door behind her, slowly progressing through the story, emphasising each point at a time. "We encounter an unsanctioned psyker, in the midst of the area of the ship that we believe might be Warp-Tainted. She immediately asks for safety, telling a story we can't easily prove without an extended expedition into the deck, and we agree to bring her into the main body of the ship. And then you offer to bring her to a meeting with the Captain."

The last point met with greater emphasis, the Voidmaster placed her glass down, shaking her head to Marcus. She was strangely calm, considering the story she had just related. She was uncertain, worried rather than wrathful. "I said I would trust your judgement, Master Marcus. And I stand behind that. I would merely like you to assure me that you've thought this through. That you've considered that our new friend might not be the innocent she seems.." The young voidfarer frowned, trying once again to meet the Astropath's gaze, fear starting to predominate in her voice. More so than you might expect. "From the point of view of someone who has no experience with the Warp, this situation is worrying me. And I hope you understand why?"

[Toxic Mind]

Marcus sighs heavily. "Commander Scythia. I can excuse your lack of knowledge, and so I take no offense, when in another situation, I would have. This girl is a Psyker who has managed to survive the warp storm, a warp storm that almost killed ME. Of course I realize the danger. But she likely has firsthand knowledge of what is happening on 38 and below."

Marcus waves away the drink and stands, pacing the room. "Make no mistake. I intend to search the deepest recesses of this child's mind. I can find far more doing thus, than I ever could from questioning her. But she must be willing. If she lets me in, the process is much simpler, much less damaging."

Marcus turns away, and the set of his shoulders is hard, and formal. "I will do what I must. I know my duty to this crew, to our Captain."

[The Architect]

Footfall Docks

The trio of armored blonde handmaidens point to the shuttle the group accompanying the Lord-Captain arrived in "We already have transport, First Officer."

Remember Footfall is a series of buildings connected by chains and bridges, chained to an asteroid in the void. Not the kind of place for a vehicle indoors.

Scythia's Office

Ambrell with you guys?

[Rising Chaos]

Cort stopped, halfway through a not quite going his way argument with a cargo-hauler. He was grateful that none of the landing pad could see his half-shock, half embarrassed look on his face. He had obviously slipped much farther than he thought he had, and it wasn't helping that every few minutes he found himself hoping Rosa was alright. Taking a moment he composed himself again and turned back, nodding to the handmaidens.
"Of course good ladies, my apologies. I assumed that the pilot would wish for a full refuel and mechanical turn-around, but if he is ready to depart then by all means. The Schola awaits"

[The Architect]

The Red Schola

A monolithic slab without decoration, the Red Schola is the slave-hold of the Tutors, a cabal of mysterious slave masters who have made Footfall their base of operations. Within their sealed edifice, the Tutors create slave servants using a variety of cruel and esoteric methods: noetic induction, the breaking of self, torture, ritual branding and hypno-conditioning. Few know what horrors lie behind its void-steel portals, but few who can afford them question the quality of the slaves produced by the Red Schola. Whether one requires a delicate courtesan assassin sculpted in the image of an Imperial Saint or a cohort of mute, slab-muscled stranglers, the Red Schola can provide.

The pneumatics and thrusters of the shuttles hiss and whine as the craft lands on what could be mistaken for the brick in some giant's home floating in the void. The chains that strung it to the asteroid were so long and thin that one might question how it had not simply floated away.

When the hanger closed it took several minutes for the hanger space to repressurise, and when it did and the shuttles doors opened and the ramp descended the group of the Ebon Glaive were met by a intimidating sight. The space had been emptied of deck hands, save for a dozen figures figures in armored black body gloves. In their right hands were long thin power halberds that rested their heft on the steel grating of the floor and in their right hands, pressed across their chests, were bolt pistols. Their gender was hard to pick out, but their limbs were thin, but with augmentations that gave no indication of strength, and they stood at nearly seven foot tall. Their helmets were the most peculiar feature of their garb though, orbs half a meter wide, formed of glass, and shaped from many triangular pane such that they seemed like some sort of strange sculpture. Their necks were hidden by mass crimson scarfs that wrapped around their necks and shoulders and fell behind them in two long arms of fabric like tails or a bisected cape. These scarfs were sown with gold thread, marked with azure script in High gothic, but it was hard to make out what they said at this distance.

Six of the dozen, spaced two meters apart side to side and with a handful of meters as a path between them, flanked either side of a carpet that matched the shade of the scarfs. There was a distance long ringing of bells and then the main doors of the hanger opened. At that moment the dozen strange guards slammed down the haft of their staffs three times. They were living displays of wealth and power, but they were a silent threat as well.

A figure emerged through the door, flanked by young servants in crimson togas. Slowly and formally he approached, walking the carpet between the twelve guards.


http://i60.tinypic.com/2n6y8eo.png

When he reached just a few meters before the ramp he stopped and a boy to his side began to shout his announcement "announcing our Lord, Master Aurelius Son'Aurelius Avilius! Tutor of the Red Schola, Lord-Captain of the Bounding Freedom, son of House Avilius!"

He held out his hand, his rings upwards, towards the ramp, as if waiting for it to be kissed.

Where Mr. Tocara had feigned obeisance to elicit cooperation, this man had no such humility, not that he had any need of it.

What do you do?

[devinebovine]

Novem returned to the Ebon Glaive, sans xenotech, but with some weaponry and two new battle-servitors awaiting him in the docking bay. Before activating them he inspected each joint, each observable servo, the external power couplings. He caressed the ammo hoppers and adamantine chains. In binary code he recited a prayer of his own creation. <<Holy Emperor and Blessed Omnissiah, grace this instrument with your graces and sanctify the spirits within.>> (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gsNaR6FRuO0)

He then activated their command runes and tuned their internal vox-units to his vox-implant. With a subvocalization he woke them, and they coldly stood to attention, their chain axes primed and heavy bolters ready to fire. The Explorator issued to them a series of commands and observed their plodding, but relentless, maneuverings. Pleased with the quality of construction and sanity of machine-spirits, he brought them on board the ship.

Back in his tech-shrine Novem scanned the messages and reports awaiting him, and took particular note of an odd detail. A low-ranking deck-priest had discovered a hatch on Deck 37 which bore recent scarring of las-cutting. He cross-referenced this information with recorded lift-tube logs, routine internal auspex scans, and the few on-board surveillance systems and deduced that a small cadre of armsmen had gone that way, lead by Commander Scythia, and strangely accompanied by the ship's Navigator Primaris and Choir Master Telepathica. What on Terra were they doing in those forsaken parts? He voxxed the Commander.

++Commander Scythia, this is Enginseer Novem. I see that you and an armed posse recently made an unsanctioned alteration of the Ebon Glaive's holy form. I trust you only did so in the best interest of the ship, but I would ask that next time you feel the need to perform tech-surgery you requisition a qualified tech-priest to bless the undertaking. In any case, what were you doing down there? And what did you find?++

[Rising Chaos]

Cort had used his time during transit to fix his appearance and give a few quick words to how they would enter the Schola. He had pulled his black, finger-less ganger glove over his slowly clotting hand, made his appearance the same as it had been when he had entered Footfall and retrieved his advanced systems helmet from his kitbag, locking it into place before they arrived. He had also shared his thoughts with Lady Chelsea, he assumed that in order to maximize the Schola's effectiveness they would need a savant, an assassin, some muscle and a few spies. Naturally the final choice and number were all determined by the Lord Captain.

They had left the murder-servitors in the far back of the shuttle, near the pilot's chamber, and the first people out of the ramp were two lines of six arms men, visors down to show both professionalism and help hide part of their expression from view if they saw anything especially horrific during their stay. The marched forward in perfect synchrony, and as the final four armsmen exited the craft Lady Chelsea, her handmaidens and Cort exited after them (in that order).

From behind his helmet, Cort had perfect anonymity, the visor protected his view and the vox-caster covered the rest of his face. He used this protection to take in the dozen strangely armoured figures across from him. He didn't know what to make of them, but he was wary of their scarves. They were obviously being used to hide something, and whatever it was Cort had no intention of figuring out. The front two came to a halt at the base of the ramp and Cort made sure he kept a step behind Lady Verata as they came to a halt. Moving just to the left of her shoulder he unclasped his helmet and held it under his arm, looking more at the boy than the Shola master, but in the general space between the two. His brother and some of the other gangers had spread stories that any non-noble or rogue trader who looked the Red Shola master in the eyes was captured in the night and processed into the concubines the Schola sold their debased nobles. Though he doubted it was true he was in no mood to test that legend.

He cleared his throat and announced back "The Rogue Trader Chelsea Maria Andrea Rosanna Verata, Lady-Captain of the Ebon Glaive, Daughter of the Verata Dynasty, Scion and Wielder of the Verata Warrant of Trade, thanks the Master of the Red Schola for taking us into his place of work and business. May our partnership bring everlasting glory to both our houses!"

[Inspector Valin]

Scythia nodded slowly, listening closely as Marcus explained his plans and reasoning. The fact that the last storm had almost killed him raised an eyebrow from the Voidswoman, but the act that he was considering made his actions thus far fit into a greater context. Once he was done, the Commander slowly nodded. "Offering her a chance with the Captain still seems a risk to me. But thank you, Marcus. Now at least, I understand why you said that. And am growing more grateful the worst thing the Lux ever faced was pirates."

Scy chuckled darkly, pausing for a moment. She glanced down, towards a picture that lay on the desk. A young Navy cadet, grinning wide with a proud older Officer standing behind her. For a moment, Commander Wake is lost in memories, recalling the times that'd come before. But then, recollection of more recent times brought the Helmswoman back to reality. She nodded to Marcus for a second time, though now her words had grown less certian. "I can confirm she knows something, I think. As did the girl who attacked the shrine."

Not something you wanted to say to an Astropath. Marcus could likely feel the spark of fear growing stronger in Scythia, urging her not to continue relaying this... yet the young Void-Master continued, looking towards Gaius, a slight unsteadiness in speech the only mark of her mixed feelings."The.... The Shattered Mirror. I dreamt of myself, looking into a mirror, and seeing a different figure. Me, but... not me. One of us was in uniform, the other in a nightgown." The fear was getting worse. Commander Wake was starting to drip beads of sweat from her forehead. Her skin was pale, though at least her confessor couldn't see that much. (as if he needed to) "Then the mirror shattered, I awoke. And I couldn't remember which one had been me."

Scythia grew pained at that final word, clenching her fist, but voice sounding more upset than angry. It was a hard point to explain in words, but the Void-Master trusted her colleague to understand. Admission done, Scy looked down to her glass for a moment, face glum. Talking to a psyker about strange dreams rarely led to positive, happy places. She'd had minimal contact with warp-witches up till now, but that much, all citizens of the Imperium knew. Still, with a final intake of breath, she raised her head to meet Marcus' metaphorical gaze once again, face set. "I don't know what that means, Master Gaius. I'd written it off at first; just influence of the Storm. But I figure you should know when at least two ship-witches seem to be reacting to imagery very similar to that dream. And Astra seemed to have difficulty seeing me because of it."

Ambrell's here if she chose to follow. Scythia wouldn't force her out, though if she is here, I'd like to edit this a bit. Novem, really sorry for not getting to you, but this is a fairly major moment for her, putting pretty heavy trust in another PC. I'd like to have a post from Toxis before reacting to you.

Toxic, Scythia does actually have additional reason to suspect that particular dream as suspect. But.... it involves confessing the reacon she got transferred to the Glaive. Unless Marcus pushes, that's as much as he's getting for now, I'm afraid.

[Toxic Mind]

"I promise you that if she meets the captain, it will be with a laspistol at her back. Believe me when I say that I would never risk harm to Lady Verata. The reasons... are a story for another time. But please believe that I would rather throw myself out the airlock than see harm willingly come to her. I will leave the choice of meeting with the girl up to the Captain."

The tension rose in the room. Marcus could see it in the set of Scy's shoulders, the tightness of her voice, the whiteness of her knuckles. People forgot that an Astropath needed no eyes to see. Marcus sits, and listens quietly to the story. All the tension is drained from him. He radiates calm, cool, soothing.

For the first time that the Commander could recall, warmth lights Marcus' face. "I know all too well the pain that such an admission cost you. I am not an interpreter of dreams, but I do have somewhat that may help. It is not... however, pleasant. I could look into your mind, and search out any corruption, any taint, and any false memories or dreams placed there. However, I will not lie to you. Such a connection would give me total access into your mind at that time. It is not something I undertake lightly, and I would never do so unless you were willing. You may wish to explore other options, and I will not press." Marcus stands, and puts his hand comfortingly on the Commander's shoulder. "You fear the warp, but you should never fear me. You have earned my trust today, Commander, and that is no small commodity."

Marcus pulls away, and the smile fades to a pensive look. "You have had no further dreams of this 'Shattered Mirror' I assume. This is good. When I am in Astra's mind, I will look for anything she may know or have seen regarding it. Her mind may yet yield the clues to ease yours. You said that she could not see you. Perhaps some connection to the warp perceives what I cannot. To my sight, there is but one of you. Still, you may wish the Navigator to look at you, with her SIGHT. She shares more connection to the warp than I, she may see what I cannot. The choice is yours."

Marcus walks to the door, then turns. "Your story is safe with me, and should you need to speak to someone, I am here. Unless you become a danger to the crew, or the Captain orders me, I shall tell no one of what we discussed here. I am going to attend to Astra. Should you wish to observe the mind probe, you may. It will be the same thing I would use to scan your mind. I would not have you make such a choice uninformed."

[Inspector Valin]

That was not a pleasant thought, was it? A Master Astropath, rummaging around in your mind, looking for whatever it was you wanted to keep secret. Looking for things you didn't even know yourself. The concept of a search for taint was... not exactly an encouraging one. The Thunder's Astropaths had declared her clean, but that had never been quite enough for Scythia. And yet... it was the best way, still. Better than keeping it to herself. Better than letting it fester inside her untill whatever this was grew worse.

Emperor give me strength

Brief silent prayer given, the Helmswoman nodded, eyes reopening to focus on the astropath, her tone a touch looser. More informal. She appreciated what he'd said. "Thank you, Marcus. I'd like some time to think about it, but I..." Glancing down into her empty cup for a second, the young Void-Farer chuckled. "Well, if you're fine looking into my mind, with whatever warp-spewed insanity might be going on in there, I'd appreciate it. I've nothing to hide from you, or Lady Verata."

True enough. Resolution given, the Helmsmistress rose to her feet, nodding at the Astropath's words. "I'll go with you for Astra. One more pair of..." As she spoke, however, the crackle of her micro-bead Vox cut in.


++Commander Scythia, this is Enginseer Novem. I see that you and an armed posse recently made an unsanctioned alteration of the Ebon Glaive's holy form. I trust you only did so in the best interest of the ship, but I would ask that next time you feel the need to perform tech-surgery you requisition a qualified tech-priest to bless the undertaking. In any case, what were you doing down there? And what did you find?++

++Novem, long story. Chiormaster Gaius is seeing to a young girl we retrieved.++ Scythia paused for a moment, thinking things through, before continuing. ++I'd prefer to give more details in person rather than over Vox. Can you meet me in my office?++

Whatever response the Master Enginseer gave, Scythia nodded, turning to the Chiormaster and thinking aloud. "I'll bring Novem up to speed. He's in charge of both Murder-Servitors, and Teleportarium. If we want to use either against Thirty Eight's inhabitants, having his advice might be useful." Her new plans now given, Scy met the astropath's milk-white eyes with an honest smile. "Good luck with Astra, Marcus. Emperor watch over you."

[The Architect]

The Red Schola

The figure's smile extends across his face in a way that unsettles Cort for some reason saying "A Master of the Red Schola, their is no King in the Schola, but many masters, teachers for the weak. May I ask what purpose brings you here? I have heard of the Verata Dynasty makes purchases from one end of Footfall to the other, but I have no word of your intentions here. What flesh do you seek?"

He doesn't seem to motion for the group to leave the hanger, as if waiting for the group in the shuttle to leave it before he did so.

[Toxic Mind]

"And you Commander. Keep me appraised of the situation, though if I do not respond for some time, do not take it as a cause for alarm. The process of searching a mind is long and arduous, and should not be interrupted. Still, after I am finished, we should be able to return to 38 and bring the Light of the Emperor to that forsaken place. Oh, and should the captain return before I awake, please appraise her of the situation."

Marcus heads to his quarters, and as he does, sends to one of his apprentices. "Go down to the hanger bay. A delivery of lasweapons and some Rosariuses has likely arrived. Bring them to my quarters. In addition, send Ysa to my quarters immediately. She will watch and provide support during the search."

He arrives outside his quarters just as Ysa does. She is one of his more powerful apprentices, and reliable under stress. Whatever happens, Marcus knows she will keep her head. He addresses Officer Luca, still outside his door. "My thanks, Officer. I assume no one has entered and Astra waits within?"


On response, just write me into the room. Got nothing else for Luca unless he has questions.

[The Architect]

Sanctum Psykana

Once Luca confirms the girl has been left alone, aside from being scrubbed down and given a white medical garb, Luca opens the door for the Astropath.

Once inside he sees Astra seated at the center of a large rug sown with symbols of meditation and the remunerations. She sits cross legged, trying to meditate, unusual for a unsanctioned psyker, and failing given the recent events she has endured. When she hears Marcus enters she scrambles to her feat. Her voluminous white hair reaching almost to her calves like a great cloak the shade of snow "I was waiting... did you want to talk to me about things?"

[Toxic Mind]

"Very much so. But there is an easier way for us to share information than talking. You, me, and Ysa here are special. The Emperor has given us a special gift to glorify him with. If you let me, together we can journey through your mind, and through this, you can tell, and show me more than we could know by talking." Marcus sits down on the rug across from Astra, and motions Ysa to sit in the corner of the room. "However, if you would like to talk first for a while, that is fine with me. I will not force myself into your mind, for to do so would bring you great pain. If you invite me in, the process is only somewhat uncomfortable. You can ask Ysa, she has undergone it multiple times over the years, many by myself. It is my duty as her Leader to make sure she is healthy and safe."

Marcus holds out his hands, an invitation for the girl to take them. "If you join me on this journey, you can guide me to what I need to see, and we can avoid things that I do not need to see. I can shield you from the pain of bad memories, and I will be here every step of the way." Marcus smiles, and his aura once again settles into calm and cool. This is his Sanctum, and he feels at peace here.

[The Architect]

Sanctum Psykana

Astra nods, understanding in a way someone her age should not, even a psyker. She is powerful, and whatever coven had so recently fallen had tried to teach her what they could. There was a twinge at the back of Marcus' mind that told him it was his duty to hand her over to the black ship, where after she'd either have her soul consumed by the Emperor, her eyes burnt out by the same, her body weakened by torture-conditioning or have to enjoy the myriad pains and strictures of ascent of a path through the Scholar Progenenium to the office of the Holy Ordos. It was Marcus' and every other person's duty according to the God-Emperor to force this girl to endure untold suffering for the crime of a gift she hadn't been chosen to be born with.

The group fell into meditation easily, the incense filling the room as the trio sat upon the rug that was one of the few objects Marcus' still owned that originated on Holy Terra. With the ease of a seasoned practitioner Marcus' rose higher in the remunerations to settle his mind.

It took time but eventually he loosed his body of light from his body and settled into the great ocean. He knew there were dangers on the opens seas, and while Ysa acted to protect his body of light from the material world as a gellar field did a ship of the line, he knew not to tarry to long during an auto-seance less the strain tax his soul or mortal frame. He found the thread into Astra's mind and with his hand stretch it into a golden road. Walking it he found the immaculate golden brick road ending amid the dark in a white unblemished bulkhead, what he assumed was the most impressive Astra could imagine a 'door' being.

Marcus pulled it open with as little effort as he could manage but he felt a wave of pain wash over the little girl in the material world. There was a light and Marcus had to shield his eyes as he stepped through. When he emerged the landscape he stood within was immediately oddly alien and familiar. At first he believed he was standing in a field but what became readily apparent was that it was not what he would imagine a field looked like. What he had assumed was grass was a thick green moss that had grown over a strange form of dirt. It was like layers of caked dust and grime. It was disgusting and it seemed odd the mixture could take his weight. In the distance where the silhouettes of trees atop a perfectly hemispherical hill, but their trunks were to thin and curved into perfect cylinders, even the branches jutted out at too-perfect angles, as did the oval leaves. He turned and saw what he presumed was meant to be an ocean, but the water was stagnant at the coastline, unmoving, giving the impression of a massive puddle, and the blue was far too bright and solid to be anything natural. Even the waves were strange, as the water randomly shout upwards for a moment here and there with no apparent rhyme or reason, or tidal forces, to the motions. The scale as well was wrong. The sky was a bleached white and felt as if it couldn't have been much more than a dozen meters high. The sun itself looked more like a few meter wide glow-globe than any star he had ever seen, and the clouds were nothing more than perfectly still balls of white smoke. The ocean itself, before it was cut off by a much too close horizon, was more like a moderately sized lake in dimension than a true ocean.

This is what happened when some ancient tact of meditation asked a girl who had never seen the sun to imagine the natural world.

There was a sound behind him and Marcus' turned to see Astra standing there, looking just as she did in his Sanctum Psykana, which seemed strange simply because most people represented themselves in their own dreamscape as perfected versions of themselves.

She spoke with a smile "Where do you want to go first?"

[Toxic Mind]

"Show me the Guardians" he said calmly. "I am sorry about the pain. There is always some." He smiles sadly, knowing the lie was necessary but disliking it nonetheless.

[devinebovine]

<<Child retrieved from lower decks. Commander unwilling to discuss matter over vox. Squad of armsmen still activated. Deduction: Existence of threat on Deck 38, possibly lower.>> Novem left his quarters, his lovely plasma gun strapped to his back and his two servitors in tow. If he still had a mouth it would have had a large, toothy grin on it. Whatever was going on had the promise of fun. He hadn't had a good scrap for a while, and if it cleaned out some of the infestation of the holy vessel then so much the better.

Novem arrived at Scytha's office and keyed the door rune. He left the servitors outside and entered, taking a seat before one was offered.

"While I've been trying to stir up trouble on Footfall, it seems like you've found some right here. How about you fill me in, and I can attempt to bless this undertaking in the eyes of the Machine God and my new instrument of his fury." Novem drew a loving hand across his plasma gun.

[Rising Chaos]

Cort nodded, snapping his fingers the guards changed formation and formed up into two horizontal lines directly behind Cort, Chelsea and the hand maidens, so that all were well enough away from the shuttle. He was surprised that the tutor had no heard of their intentions here. Glaive command had confirmed that one of his assistants had been here to strike up a meeting, then again he hadn't exactly sent a list of requests with the servant so that made sense. He was surprised he hadn't seen the assistant or heard from him since they departed for the schola. He forced himself to fix his attention on the tutor before speaking. "Just so my lord, apologies for my mistake. You have heard right of course, our noble dynasty prepares to venture deep into the Expanse. To explore the Koronous and find out it's many secrets. In order to prepare for our journey we have come to Footfall to attain all manner of goods, and no visit to the station would be complete if we did not visit this prestigious schola."

Prestigious was a stretch, but it sounded better than "that lone asteroid where people mutter about torture-daemons and soul damning merchants". "For our purposes the dynasty has interest in the fine quality of servants the Schola is known for, a few savants, bodyguards. Perhaps a spy or two are our interests" he glanced at Lady Chelsea to make sure the list was correct.

[Glarx]

The Rogue Trader had taken her helmet off during the trip over, and the finely-crafted helm sat on her belt. Chelsea gave Cort a single half-nod, letting him proceed. He knew this sort of world better than she did, and she trusted him to do what was right in the situation. But she was tired, she was cranky, and she was not about to kiss some guy's ring, not after the day she'd had. With her luck, it'd've been covered with poison or something.

But despite Chelsea's seemingly limited reaction, she was still there, still reading the situation, considering and plotting. The brevity of her reaction should not be taken as a lack of interest, but rather, a sign of her tiredness and recuperation from the artifact.

[Inspector Valin]

Scythia is sitting behind her mahogany desk, a poured glass of Amasec left sitting across from her, close to Novem's hand. Scy didn't know for sure if techpriests drank, but offering him the bub helped her refrain from it herself. She'd had a glass earlier, and needed to keep sharp."We don't have details yet. The Chiormaster's working on that part. But I can give you the overview"

With a glance downwards, Commander Wake tapped her right hand with her left, drawing Novem's eyes to her MIU. The port still rested within the desk's interface: Scythia was co-ordinating infomation and paperwork as they spoke. The Void-Master knew to multitask. "There've been rumours of corruption on deck thirty eight. Little substantiated, but it's been persistent enough that the Captain felt it worth investigating. She tasked me and Chiormaster Gaius with leading the investigation party. Lady Modar accompanied us, as it waws warp corruption we were primarily concerned about."

Scy's face drew a touch tighter, as they reached the focus of the story. She wasn't hostile exactly, but having to relay the infomation was somewhat raining. That was where we encountered the girl. An unsanctioned Psyker, and a powerful one at that. Marcus is trying to get more details out of her, but the basic story was fairly clear. A mutant settlement, working on the deck in peace, and overseen by a coven called the Guardians. During the storm, they came under attack by beings called the Lower Ones, suffering heavy casualties.

Sighing, the Helmswoman leaned back in her chair, smiling at the conclusion of her account, and looking across both to the techpriest, and his shiny new cannon. She chuckled at the good timing, before shaking her head. "That's all the information I've got, Novem. I'd appreciate your thoughts on the matter: how to proceed, what the best tactics would be for combat on deck thirty eight. If you can pull up a current plan of the area, all the better, but for now, I'd just like to have someone to bounce ideas off of."

[The Architect]

The Dreamscape At The Edge of The Great Ocean

The little girl clapped a figure of molten gold filled the sky, he was unclothed and his torso alone filled the horizon, his only colored feature were the white orbs of his eyes.

"In the beginning the Emperor made all things, then when the time came to gift the stars with their protectors he cast humanity into the stars," at that the sky behind the titan turned to an infinite blackness of stars, this she could imagine true to life, and the titan casts out hundreds of ships towards the stars like darts "in time the Emperor took to the stars to reconnect to the scattered children, but while they had waited many were lost, for the long night had come without the Emperor's light to remind us of the good in all things," at that several of the ships detonated or began to drift, while some of the stars flickered out "one of these was the home of my people, the Ebon Glaive, but there came a hero, a son of the star children, and with a right arm of iron and his army of warriors and metal faced men he tore the craft from its grave among the heavens and reforged it in the name of the Emperor. This was the one named Verata. In time there came the lesser peoples, for unlike the beautiful star children the Emperor had cast to shield the lights in the sky from all evils these lesser peoples had not the sun light to make them beautiful or the wind to give them wisdom, for they had lived all their days in the dark. Some of these peoples had a gift, they could touch the power of the dark, inversions of the star children. Many demanded such power be used to take the Ebon Glaive for the lesser peoples, for those afflicted by the twists of fate, but then came Mermeci. She decreed for all time that so long as the Ebon Glaive flew those that wielded the powers of the dark would do so to protect the peoples above. For as the peoples protect the stars in the Emperor's name, so should we protect them in theirs.

So all who wielded the power of the dark places were inducted into the order of the Guardians, so that any evil in the decks below would never fester and corrupt the people of the light. Even when the people of the light came to wound or purge us for our wrong doings, still we stayed true. Always the lesser peoples will protect the star children of the Emperor.

The greatest evil though were the Lower Ones, called the black folk by the now dead Abaji tribe of deck 39, and shadow children by the ancient dead Scinji of the starboard-clan of the Witch-Queen of deck 40. It is they who the Guardians have fought for so long, they who the Guardians shall always face."

Marcus felt that this was a memory being recounted to him, likely her mother telling her this story in turn in the past.

~~~

The Red Schola

If the man took issue with Lady Chelsea's silence he said nothing of it, instead reviewing the script vomited up by a lexi-servitor that approached. After a few moments of reviewing the documentation he motioned for both entourages to follow him.

When they did so he led them up a spiral staircase. Cort could feel his body grow light as the gravity lessened to half the Terran norm suddenly as they moved up the staircase. He led the entourage through several tunnel like corridors until arriving at a meeting room with a large circular Scitillan frabri-oak carved table, engraved with several house crests giving the impression it had been moved long ago from somewhere very different. The central table had only about a dozen large throne like chairs, but most of the entourages members took seats in the surrounding box like chair covered ring shaped dais, such that the whole space took on the appearance of an opulent but cramped circular theater.

Once the entire group had been seated the Master spoke again "It is my understanding that what you require may not be within your means, at least not with any degree of quality. I could arrange for my auto-counts to work with your economizers and find a suitable payment for a dozen or so in total retainers as you describe but it does not seem to me that it serves us to give you an inferior product, even if it is all you can afford."

He placed a pair of worn glasses over his eyes, which seem peculiar given that one of them was augmetic but no one commented "but I am a wise man, Corteaz Zollin, and given your recent dealings with the Kasballica, in Lady Chelsea's case as well, I am see House Verata as a reliable, if more long-term, investment. You see the Kasballica are only one figure in the power structure of Footfall, and while they are good customers it pays to have a few informants in the ranks of friends, especially those whose losses can be one's gains.

As such, I have to ask if you might be considering an alternative means of payment, that we might suggest. We will of course pay you for your services up front, the Red Schola can always be trusted to uphold a bargain. And this, my fine Lady Chelsea of House Verata, is a bargain."

[Toxic Mind]

The Dreamscape

As the images fade, Marcus smiles and speaks. "Thank you for sharing with me. Your people are certainly brave, to protect those who cared little for you. That is worthy of the Emepror's praise."

Marcus takes the girl's hand, walking through her mindscape. As he walked, the moss became grass, the tepid water the roaring surf of the ocean, the trees grew branches and leaves, that swayed in a nonexistent wind, both cooling and soothing. The sky became blue, a blue lighter than the ocean, and the sun a warming light, all seeing but distant.

Marcus' smile becomes radiant, and the tension drops from his face. "This is the Terra of long ago as the Emperor showed it to me when I stood before his Throne. It was his gift to me, Terra-that-was, and it is the gift I give to you. When we are done, when you open your mind in the future to his grace, you can come here, travel these shores. Here is where I find peace."

Marcus slowed, and with a wave, banished the beaches and the waves, the ocean and the sun, leaving the mindscape a blank white. "I know this may be hard, but can you tell me about the Lower-Ones? Do you know what they are? What they can do? Anything you know would allow us to help the Guardians complete their task."

[Rising Chaos]

Chelsea's reaction in the hanger showed Corteaz just how tired the Captain was, he wasn't sure what had happened but he figured now was most definitely the time to act as the Dynasty's voice until they got down to the 'yes' or 'no' part of the deal. He was surprised that this Master Aurelius knew about the Dynasty's actual worth and resources, he took note that the Schola's reputation was justly deserved. The only information he could trace was that the use of his full name, he'd only said that to Reez, which either meant that Reez was a double agent or that the Schola had someone in the Serpents Glass.
The mention of Reez sparked an idea in his mind, it was a longshot but it would be so much easier than his current plans. He wondered how fast the Schola could re-purpose their slaves, and how versatile they could be...
As he composed his response he took a quick mental note on the decor of this room, the Schola might scare the gak out of him but throne above they knew a thing or two about atmosphere. He nodded, lightly avoiding the implied insult that they could not pay. As a non-noble he could let that slide easily. "I'm sure we would be interested in hearing what your proposed alternate means are, Master Tutor. I have heard stories about the reach and power of the Schola, and I believe you have a firm knowledge on the reasons both I and my Lord Captain ventured onto Footfall besides acquiring supplies. What, may I ask, did you have in mind?"

[The Architect]

The Dreamscape

Astra weaves her hands in complex patterns and a figure forms drifting before them. It is humanoid, perhaps six or seven feet tall, but it's off-brown cream coloured skin is too smooth and leathery, while its limbs of sculpted muscle are far too thin to be so clearly powerful. It's face is smooth as well, lacking a nose almost entirely instead possessing a triangular slit like a corpse, the ears are hidden under the skin and like its body the face if hairless. It's brow is shunted forward and broad, and its teeth are a bundle of white razors in thick jaws, its eyes tiny circular beads of inky darkness.

"This is one of the Lower Ones, but there are many," she says, trying to keep her tone stable.

Marcus' thought he recognized the creature, not from first hand experience but second hand stories and footnotes in the books he had read for his mutant study classes on Terra. A Hullghast, an incredibly divergent strain of mutant, scarcely related to humanity at all, that straddled the intersection between being useless to the Imperium and being violently psychotically powerful.

"Maja Maja Ba'Yaga warned us, the old witch of the deep deck wilds, the only one with the gift powerful enough to resist the Guardians, the most powerful seer the Guardians had ever encountered, that the Hullghasts would form a horde, but we did not believe her. The Hullghasts are powerful but the Guardians together could easily best a handful at a time, but something happened... While the Guardians could share their power to protect the whole coven from the influence of the Storm something did, just for a moment, touch the minds of the ship," Marcus remembered the unsettling experience from just before Ambrell tore the ship free "the techno-magicks of the star-children above helped protect us, but in that weakened moment something asked the Storm to enter, something pleaded for it. The Storm did not answer, I think it didn't care about the prayer, but something else in the Great Ocean heard the plea in that moment and answered. It gifted one of the Hellghasts with its mark and so it became the Hellghast's master, a Hellghast Supreme. It led its brother to destroy the Guardians and even now hunts the last of those of the lesser people who lack the gift. I know in my soul that once it is done below, it will consume those above until this ship is a carnal house of blood and viscera.

Can you stop it Marcus? You're gift is of the light, gifted by the Star Children's Emperor to speak across the stars with the voice of God, you are a White Wizard, but these things... they are many and I am the last Guardian..."

[The Architect]

The Red Schola

Master Aurelius nodded and continued "we would fulfill the order you have requested with some of our best slaves, gene-crafted False-men of immaculate beauty, and in return you would seek out an enemy of the Red Schola and destroy them on route to your destination, something that I believe your craft is more than capable of, am I correct?"

He sips his goblet "Have you ever heard of the Stryxis my Lady? First Officer?"

He sets the goblet down and a slave girl in a tight but elegant gown tabs his lips before he continues "Have you ever anyone dear to you? Been married? Had children?"

[Glarx]

"Yes, I'm familiar with the Stryxis. And yes, I've had someone dear to me." Chelsea wondered about the list her seneschal had given her, with the various components in it. If she could find Trask, find the man who had been procuring colony supplies, she might be able to provide for everything he had asked for. But he wanted to set up a base on Footfall, when they barely had an infrastructure capable of keeping the Glaive repaired and happy.

She wasn't seeing the benefit to this, and in her foolishness she hadn't asked on the way over. Mostly she'd slept. Chelsea didn't care for this sensation, this sleepiness. It was a nuisance, but there was too much to do at the moment. Then she could sit down with the Choirmaster and ask what the Warp that vision meant.

[Rising Chaos]

Cort nodded. He had a vague idea of what the Stryxis were, from his life on Footfall, but he couldn't remember anything aside from 'space faring xeno race', which helped him with jack-squat in this situation. When Auralius mentioned anyone dear he found himself thinking of Rosa again, wondering if he'd sent the girl to her death by not forcing her to come with him... then his thoughts turned to Cherno. He wasn't 100% sure that this was the same Prince who say at the table, but if Rosa met him in the morning he could confirm it... if he met her. That would decide one of this four courses of action...
"I know the feeling of losing many of those dear to you, yes. To know the fear of wondering if those that remain would share their fate".
He said nothing of it, but he was surprised that the Tutor had anyone he cared for, it clashed so violently with his entire image of the Tutors.

[Toxic Mind]

The Dreamscape

Marcus extends his arm, and points his hand at the image of the Hullghast. The imagine writhes, like a living creature, and holy radiance bursts from its' eyes. The light becomes blinding, and consumes the creature, until nothing remains but an afterimage in the Dreamscape. Marcus kneels and takes Astra's face in his hands. "You have done your ancestors proud on this day, Astra Guardians-Daughter, and you have likely saved all of our lives this day. Let us return to the real world. I will not tax your mind by continuing here what can be done there."

Marcus embraces the girl as the Dreamscape begins to unravel. "Alone, I could not stand" he says, almost a whisper "But with the Emperor's Grace, we can purge this foul infestation. We will not drive them back, we will banish them forever. Purge the very thought of their existence from this ship. I swear my life on that." Marcus' last words seem to hang forever as the last of the Dreamscape dissolves around them and all becomes white light.

Sanctum Psykana

Marcus Caius opens his eyes, back in his body, back in his sanctum. Astra opens her eyes as well, and then, smiling, passes out on the floor. Marcus looks to Ysa. "Take the girl to the Astropath's Quarters and make her a spot there. One of you is to accompany her at all times around the ship with at least one Armsmen. There are things I must attend to with all due haste." Marcus says no further words, instead standing and motioning for Officer Luca to follow him as he left. "Officer, you are to make your way to Commander Scythia's office, and do not delay. Gather her, Engiseer Novem, and Navigator Ambrell and have them meet me on the bridge. We have much to do, and little time to do it. I fear our enemies move without us, and they will not wait long. And Officer," Marcus stops Luca as he begins to walk away. "Vox your men guarding the breach on 37. Tell them to remain alert, and triple the detail there until we arrive."

Marcus walks quickly to the lift, heading for the Bridge. As he does, he activates his comm.

++ Marcus Caius to Captiain Verata and Seneschal Zollin. We must speak, urgently. And uninterrupted. I am sorry Captain, Seneschal, but this cannot wait. ++

[devinebovine]

Novem of course took the glass of amasec as it was offered, and held it up to his servo-skull for analysis. A green beam of light from the skull's eye scanned the glass up and down. "A decent beverage, of average quality, with an alcoholic percentage high enough to be tasted, yet low enough that an average human would need a few drinks before feeling the effects. I'd have killed for a taste of this before the Cult took my tongue. Indeed now that I consider it, I think I did once." He placed the drink back down.

The Enginseer leaned back, the chair groaning slightly under his mechanical weight. He put down his hood, exposing the mass of wires, tubes, and sockets that adorned his cranium where most had hair. The flesh was still slightly tanned. "An unbound psyker, you say? I hope Marcus has a good reason for not killing her on the spot. You're an experienced voidswoman, I shouldn't have to tell you what could happen if a Warp denizen should try to use that thing's head as a doorway."

Novem removed a lho stick from a pocket within his sleeve, and ignited it with the cog-and-skull electoo on his palm. He raised it to his mouth-grill and directed his oxgen intake valves to inhale the smoke. It ran through his atmospheric filtration unit, which removed the toxins and air impurities. Then his carbon-dioxide expulsion systems exhaled what remained. In short, he breathed as he normally did, and neither smelled nor tasted anything of the drug.

"Now as for Deck 38 . . . I have deckplans, of course. However this is an ancient ship, and I have no doubt that that region has changed over the millennia. Records indicate it once held living quarters for the ship's livestock, as well as the slaughterhouse. It was likely abandoned once corpse-starch began to bless our pallets. Who can say what kind of vile degenerate beings now inhabit such a forsaken realm?"

He filtered the lho smoke again, then snuffed it out and disposed of it in the desk's incinerator where it was atomized. "The region must be purged, of course. If there are two opposing forces down there then we cannot afford to let their conflict escalate, potentially damaging vital ship systems or spilling out into habitated areas. And wouldn't it be a glorious thing to bring the entirety of the Glaive back under control of the Machine-I-mean Verata Dynasty? I will need to requisition more adepts to perform the requisite rites of cleansing and rituals of re-edification. But before that, we have some slaughtering to do. How much time have you spent in the lower holds of void-ships? They can induce a special kind of claustrophobia, and those who spend too long in them have been known to forget what a normal human looks like. Be prepared for short-ranged fighting, and bring plenty of glowglobes, candles, and prayers for your salvation. It is invariably dark."

[The Architect]

The Red Schola

The Tutor cleared his throat and continued "Well the Stryxis once took someone of import belonging to me, and have since been a thorn in the side of the Red Schola, competitors and enemies. We intend to give a location where you may intercede against one of their convoys, we would want you to eliminate... the entire convoy you find there. In exchange there will be no other charge for the services you previously requested."

He sipped his goblet again "Is this agreeable?"

As he finishes something comes in over both Cort and Chelsea's microbead;


++ Marcus Caius to Captiain Verata and Seneschal Zollin. We must speak, urgently. And uninterrupted. I am sorry Captain, Seneschal, but this cannot wait. ++

[Rising Chaos]

Cort put a hand to his micro-bead and replayed the message, in a normal circumstance this would be a horrible time to call and ask for them to return... now however... it could be useful. He looked back at the Tutor, hoping his words would not insult the man and bring their dealing to a quick end.
"I feel as though this would be an acceptable transaction, though at the end of the day I am not the one who can approve or deny transactions such as these"
He glanced at the Chelsea for a moment, then turned his attention back to the Tutor
"Unfortunately we have received an urgent message from out Choir-Master stating that he urgently requires the Lady Captain at the Ebon Glaive immediately. I suspect sabotage, mutiny or some other foul deed is afoot."
He motioned to the retinue they had brought.
"I apologize for this rather abrupt and frankly rude departure, though I'm sure a man of your stature knows the worth a Rogue Trader must place on her ship. If Lady Chelsea and our forces could abscond for the time being there is one other matter I'd like to discuss with you, Master Tutor. It won't take too long"
He said the last sentence to Chelsea, then waited and hoped they would not offend their host.

[Glarx]

"Say what you need to, Seneschal. We will leave when you are ready. Master Tutor, your request is accepted. The Ebon Glaive will go to the coordinates and lay siege to whatever we find. I shouldn't anticipate any issue arising from the purification of these xenos."

[Rising Chaos]

"Say what you need to, Seneschal. We will leave when you are ready. Master Tutor, your request is accepted. The Ebon Glaive will go to the coordinates and lay siege to whatever we find. I shouldn't anticipate any issue arising from the purification of these xenos."

Balls, Cort thought. Well, no point in hiding his earlier agenda now, he hoped the situation on the Glaive was as dire as it had sounded. "Very well my lady. Master Tutor, you spoke earlier of wanting 'friends' within the Kasbicalla yes? I may have a way of which to do so" He steepled his fingers and spoke, he assumed that the Schola knew everything that had transpired in the Serpent's Glass.
"Footfall is my place or origin, I spoke to you before of losing many people dear to me, and it is true, many of my comrades are now dead. Of them two remain. I believe that one of them is an unwilling consort to Prince Cherno of the Kasbicalla". He let that hang in the air for a moment, not daring to see what his Lady Captain's reaction to this information was.
"If this information is true I could easily provide you with images, personality dossiers and gene-samples of my comrade. This would allow you to easily insert one of your own servants as the perfect friend to hear about or influence the Prince's actions. I would need a day or so to verify if this consort is indeed connected to Prince Cherno, and I would not dream of using this to pay for your services. If the information is false I will let you know and we will let rumor fall by the wayside. If it is true... well, we can discuss that after I've confirmed the information. Would you be interested in this?"

[The Architect]

The Red Schola

The Tutor nods, rising from his chair "Hmmm. I may be interested, contact me by vox when you have confirmed this.

Also, I understand your need to attend to your ship, and I hope this deal is the foundation for a more long term alliance between the Red Schola and House Verata. Now, if you have any specifics for those slaves you request them forward them to us through that woman you sent to contact us earlier, that assistant of yours. Otherwise we should have them prepared in a few days, in time for your departure.

With that, I must take my leave. We will discuss this again before you depart."

~~~

Sometime Later ...

Level 37

The group that forms in the small warehouse like space above the bulkhead could easily be mistake for a militia, or the entourage of an eccentric general. A hundred armsmen in five squads of a score led by the helmswoman, a half dozen murder servitors, two heavy bolter wielding gun servitors, a navigator, an astropath, three handmaidens, the Lord-Captain, the First Officer and a priest of the brotherhood of mars. There was likely some peculiar joke here.

It was left to the tech-priest to pry open the bulkhead this time, and when he did he began to direct the group through, which was not easily as the massive group had to pass through person by person. Once inside finding Twist Town based on Astra's instructions did not take long, but nonetheless the whole group was dripping with bilge water when they arrived there.

It was a space that was surprisingly cavernous, likely once having been the livestock storage facility as Novem had mentioned earlier, but it was in ruins. Shanty towers of sheet metal had collapsed in great heaps and the stench of human carnage filled the otherwise horrifically smelling air. Bodies littered the space such that one might considered a conservative estimate that Twist town had had a population in the thousands. That so many could live in such a cramp space seemed almost horrific in itself, but looking over the corpses, some many armed, some with a strange shade of skin and hair, and some much stranger still such as one that had the head of a cat, it was difficult not to see this as a great tragedy. They were mutants, yes, but even that crime did not deserve this. In places the bodies were so thick one could not walk between them, and in those spaces the servitors over ran them and squeezed them down into pulp, even the children.

In the center of the morass of shanty structures was a large square, that must have once been a market or town square of some sort. At its center were several brown robed corpses whose clothing had been stained almost entirely red with viscera. Many wielded makeshift blades or clubs, clutching them even in death. These were the Guardians.

In the distance there was a sound of a great many things moving and a howl so loud the whole space seemed to shudder. There was nothing human to that howl, but in it instead was the hint of an eternal hunger for blood and violence. It was a sound, a sound alone, but it said so much with out the weak chains of language. What was coming was no army with their war chants and bellicose threats, no war band seeking to loot and pillage. No, these were beasts seeking to gnaw bone and flesh between their teeth.

What was coming was war, and death followed after.

You have a few moments to prepare, draw weapons, make witty remarks, but roll initiative;

Horde (Hullghast): [roll0]
Horde (Armsmen): [roll1]

I'll have a map as soon as I can! :smallredface:

[Glarx]

"Thank you for your time, Master Tutor. I look forward to hosting you sometime. Until then." Chelsea was sure to walk directly next to Cort as they left, waiting until they were on the shuttle and heading back to the Glaive. On route, she contacted the ship via micro-bead.

"Choirmaster Caius, I apologize for the delay in response, we were in a meeting. We're on our way back. Is this something we should discuss face to face, or is this form of communication acceptable?"

In the shuttle, however, she gave Cort an appraising look. "You've got a bit of explaining to do, mister."

[Toxic Mind]

The Bridge

Marcus keys the vox. "We await you in the bridge captain, I can fill you in when we arrive and we can then decide on the most prudent course of action. This would also be a prudent time to inform you that one of the two Rosarius' in the hanger is yours. It was meant as a surprise, but given our current situation, you'd best grab it before heading here."

Deck 37, Some time later.

Marcus draws his newly aquired Longlas from across his back, sheathing his sword and holstering his pistol. He quickly has one of the Armsmen boost him onto a nearby shanty, offering him a position to view the field of battle, and a better field of fire with his longer-ranged weapon. He recalls the briefing given on the way down.

Marcus' face was solemn, and his expression hard as he addressed those assembled. "Hullghasts, a large enough group to slaughter at least one largely populated twist village, and likely these have killed many more below level 38. But that alone is not what worries me. We had at least two other forces in play. One, these Guardians, a group of unsanctioned psykers who have been fighting the Hullghasts for generations. And new to the game, and far more worrisome, is something Astra described as a 'Hullghast Supreme'. Whatever this thing is, during the warp storm it invited a daemon into our ship. The daemon possessed the foolish thing, and in doing so, united the Hullghasts together. This daemon-infested ghast should be our primary goal, as we cannot allow such a thing to remain within the hold."

Marcus checked the sights on his weapon one last time, and centered himself, reciting prayers of protection and warding, and asking the Emperor for guidance and courage. He fingered the Rosarius around his neck, its' twin now settled around the Captain. He prayed such protection would be enough.


[roll0]

[devinebovine]

<<Hydrogen-oxygen mixture consistent with water, but nearly equal measure of toxic runoff, decaying organic matter, and an unidentified substance with taste-identifiers similar to lemon. Deduction: Will need new robes.>>

The scene of the twist massacre was revolting. Whatever these "lower ones" were, they were certainly monsters. It is one thing to slaughter thousands with bolters, plasma, fire, heavy machinery, or virus torpedoes. It was another thing entirely to do so by ripping bodies asunder with tooth and claw. Whatever was down here needed to die. It was a sin against the Emperor and a blasphemy against the Omnissiah. Both demanded vengeance.

Novem's servos stopped cold when he heard the howl, that inhuman cry of unending hunger. He subvocalized his servitors into position on either side of a corpse pile, which he himself climbed upon. He tore a clean strip of cloth from his robes and laid it down on the topmost corpse, so that the blessed weapon need not touch the decaying flesh.

"By all the Saints and Spirits, by my divine mandate, get off my frakkin' ship you void-filth," he muttered.

Novem Initiative: [roll0]
Servitor 1: [roll1]
Servitor 2: [roll2]

[Rising Chaos]

The moment the shuttle door closed Cort had pulled his bolter from his kitbag and begun a quick inspection of his weapon, sliding the clip out and thumbing through the rounds he looked back at Lady Chelsea, not dropping eye-contact or shying away from her gaze. He placed the weapon beside him and nodded.
"Of course Lord Captain, I had intended tell you earlier and apologize that the first time you heard it was before the Tutors". He sighed, putting together everything she didn't know and the continued.
"When we came arrived at Footfall I had originally intended to court the aid of my old gang, the Void Wyrms. I had fully expected all my companions from that time to either be dead or high ranking members who would help us in out endeavors. However along with Novem I discovered that all but two former companions are deceased. The first, a man named Zeph was recruited by me to serve as a bartender, explosives expert and at least a miniscule part of out crew replacement effort. The second, the second is more complicated.
She's a woman named Rosa, I had thought her dead long before I left the station. When I returned I found out that she is serving a man named Cherno as an unwilling concubine, keeping her in line with white void and either physical or mental anguish. I have a list of-"

He paused, realizing how selfish this sounded.
"I had compiled numerous plans on how to rescue her, as I said with the Tutor the first step is determining if the Cherno she is bound to is the same Prince Cherno. If she is I will help her with everything at my, not the dynasty's disposal. I understand I am being selfish, and I understand I have put my own needs ahead of our own.... but... I've already seen her die, shot in the head by a lasbolt, and I've seen everyone else important to me gunned down by Chaos scum. I don't know if this drive is coming from some strange desire to prove I am able to save those important to me for once, I don't know if it's out of love and compassion, I don't know it's it's blinding nostalgia or because I've simply gone mad. What I know is that I won't see her second death be wasting away from drugs and abuse, I WILL NOT"
Cort caught himself slipping this time, his expression growing hard and his eyes focusing in anger. What little psyniscience he had throbbed for a moment, then died down again. Replaced with a man looking exasperated and embarrassed at losing his cool so many times.
"I will understand if you feel I have failed the dynasty or turned my back on the needs of our mission. If you request I step down after this or banish me entirely I will no complain or reject your choice, simply please allow Zeph and Rosa to stay aboard the Glaive. Sending them back would mean certain death for both of them. As for me... I've accepted my fate. You need not decide now. I will help cleanse whatever taint is spreading the Glaive with every fiber of my being..."


Later, Level 37
Cort surveyed the scene with quiet distaste. He wondered how such a population could grow and none of his assistants, his overseers or he himself could notice. He was glad that his helmet system provided a minor filtration unit. It did nothing for poison but at least kept most of the smell out. He was carrying his Heavy Stubber, finding peace in the soft clanking sound it made when the ammo belt smacked against the hull of the weapon. On his way to Level 38 he had passed a very confused looking Zeph, and had simply shaken his head and said "In a bit Z". The sight of his friend in full Carapace armour, lugging a heavy stubber, and with a bolter strapped to his back had once again robbed Zeph of whatever he was planning on saying.

As the braying crowd of Hullghast began to charge them Cort made sure to move a good ways away from the mob of arms men and retinue. He didn't plan on mowing any of his fellow's down. If he had time he made sure to drop to one knee in an attempt to brace his weapon. Normally a Missionary or Arch-Militant may have yelled inspiring tales or powerful rhetoric, but Cort had none of that. All he had was anger, anger that this was happening, anger so many had died without notice, and anger that he still felt as though he'd betrayed his Lord Captain.
There was also a darker, more primal surge of hatred, a continuing hatred that he had left Rosa alone, but a more concrete hate. These things so resembled the Chaos filth he had fought over Iniquity, the bastards who had taken everyone in his squad from him, his brother.
Behind his visor Cort's face contorted with an ugly fury, and activating his inbuilt vox he roared
"ARMSMEN, MAKE READY. BUTCHER THESE FILTHY HERETICS, LEAVE NONE ALIVE!"

Forgot to post my Initiative roll here, will post it in the IC

[Glarx]

"You have," she said simply, blinking at the end of his tirade. "You've certainly failed my dynasty. You've used my name and my family's name to help you to achieve your goals, without telling me at any moment that you were going to do so. You abused my trust, Cort, and your position. You offered asylum to someone I've never met, and you plan to upset potentially lucrative partnerships with the princes of the Kasballica so that you can save someone you'd already accepted as dead.

"Do you think you're the only one on this ship who has seen those they love die? Perhaps you've forgotten under which auspices my dynasty finds itself. They're all dead. Every. Single. One. Hundreds of people, a majestic dynasty the likes of which could only be said to be rivaled by a handful of others. A Warrant of Trade as old as the Imperium of Man. And they're all gone. You saw your friends gunned down by Chaos? I woke one day to find I was alone, without cause or reason. You want to prove you can save those you love? I want to find out what killed everyone I ever loved. I want to find out what did it. And maybe, just maybe, I want to make sure it doesn't get me.

"So yes, you did betray me. And the absurdity of your request... why would I ever honor it? Why would I not teleport your Rosa and your Zeph out into space and force you to watch? Or sell them both to the Red Schola to be reprogrammed? What right do you have to request mercy from me? The answer is simple, though.

"I like you, Cort. You're good at what you do, and I like you. So I don't care that you did what you did." She shrugged, pulling out a mirror to try and undo some of the helmet-hair she had going on. "If you want to save this girl, then we'll save her. I already have a reason to blow Footfall up, I might as well compound it. But if you try and leverage your association with my dynasty for personal gain without at least telling me about it first, I might not take it so well next time. You're lucky -- I've used up my daily reserve of vitriol today. Let's get back home. Caius is starting to worry me."

---

Chelsea sighed at the oncoming swarm, her holographic suit fading her into the background. "Throne's Bones..."

She patted Cort on the shoulder. "Give 'em hell."

[Toxic Mind]

Chelsea Verata felt a touch on her mind, familiar and comforting, like seeing an old friend. She hears Marcus in her mind. "This reminds me very much of the time you and your father rescued me from those pirates. I believe the odds were not dissimilar." The Lady-Captain could sense a patina of humor overlaying the message. The bastard was actually enjoying this?! "Today I get to repay some small part of the debt I owe your family. Today is a good day to be in the Emperor's Light. Fight with honor, Lady-Captain. Let us show these monsters what it means to truly serve House Verata."

[Inspector Valin]

Scy was fighting the urge to gag as they waded through the bilge-water once again; this time clad in the white and black flak armor the Thunder had assigned her for anti-border operations. Somehow, the protection it afforded her was cold comfort when surrounded by the remains of a massacre. Twist or human, they were crew, damn it, loyal to the Ebon Glaive. And they'd deserved better than this.

But then, came the howl. A battlecry. And the Helmswoman left her fears behind her in that instant, old reflexes taking over. She'd beentrained for this since before she could walk.

She drew back the safety on her blot pistol, and flicked her golden sword's switch to active, feeling it hum for the first time outside of a training session. That was a reassurance. Scythia grinning at encroaching horde, coming towards them. The ones responsible for this atrocity were close at hand, and in the Emperor's name, she would take her share of bodies in the fight. Grinning wide, she called out above the medley "The Warp spawned you all, it can damned well take you back!"

Initiative [roll0]

[Toxic Mind]

From his perch behind their assembled forces, Marcus sights his Long-las on the head of one of the first ghasts in the seething mass now running toward them. "Ugly brutes," he thinks to himself. He pulls the trigger, and a bolt of red streaks out...

and flys right over the head of the ghast he was aiming at to slam harmlessly into the wall behind it. Marcus cannot contain the look of shock from his face. Had his skills degraded this far? He resolved that more training with the Long-las was in order if (when!) this battle was won and he was safe back in the upper decks. He shook his head and resighted again on the targets, already moving closer. "Every missed shot is one more enemy to tear us apart. You cannot afford such failures, and neither can your men, Astropath." he chides himself.

[The Architect]

Level 38

There is a rumble, like a drumbeat in the steel of the deck itself, and then they come.

Flesh against flesh, packed thick in the road, a hoard of large gaunt and blood thirsty humanoids, decked in the clothing and viscera of the fallen. If these things could once have been called human then such times are long since forgotten. What follows though is almost as horrifying as the horde of blood thirsty monsters charging forward.

A dozen servitors form the vanguard. The world freezes as the horde hits them like a wave.

Then it begins. Viscera and chunks of limbs fly into the air as cuddles dances through bodies like they were not even there. To cuddles side is fluttery whose scissor like hands bisected torsos with impossible ease. Bubbles who's hands are black featureless spheres mashes in skulls with single blows as it bounces from monster to monster.

When Novem and the Gun-Servitors open fire on the survivors it almost seems like clean up.

It almost seems cruel. Almost.

The mass reactive shells explode into the bulwark of the inhuman beasts and flesh is pulled, limbs scattered and skulls detonated. When the others open fire the mess of viscera has become so instantly chaotic it is hard to tell if there is anything left alive to kill. When the dust settles one can see that the armsmen hadn't even gotten the chance to open fire.

There was a shout from Officer Luca as the dust began to clear "Sirs... IS THAT IT?!"

There was a rumble in the distance and a roar of rage and hatred.

Many more were coming.

Sorry if anyone didn't get to go this round... YOU KILLED THEM ALL TOO QUICKLY!!!

Don't worry, more will come.

With their leader.

Till then if any of you want to say something in the few seconds pause before reinforcements arrive go ahead. :smallsmile:

[Glarx]

"Cuddles, Bubbles, Fluttery, get back in position. Armsmen, prepare to fire on the enemy. Everyone, we have a chance here to take care of the menace that threatens my ship -- and believe me, we are not going to lose that chance! The God-Emperor of Mankind is smiling upon us today -- let's make Him proud!"

That was a sexy display of obliteration.

Chelsea had to agree with the voice.

[devinebovine]

"Commander, it seems your armsmen were unable to fire. It is true that the flesh is weak, but I am surprised to see that theirs cannot even pull a trigger. If you find them lacking, I could make them into useful servitors . . ." Novem made a repetitious mechanical hacking sound. He didn't care to explain that it was laughter.

He reset his aim, and with a mental command had his servo-skull perform an auspex scan, hoping that the metal bulkheads wouldn't interfere too much with the readings.

Servo-skull tech-use: [roll0] vs 35 (15 Int and Tech-use +20)

[Rising Chaos]

Transport
Cort blinked in surprise. He had expected Chelsea to chew him out, he had done stupid things and gone over the head of his Lord Captain. What he hadn't expected was her to fully forgive and then back his plans... the universe must have a strange sense of humour 'Or your Captain is an infinity patient and wise human being' he reminded himself. He smiled, in spite himself and nodded "Of course Captain, it won't happen again, and if I ever go over your head again I'll gladly volunteer to test out the murder-servitors weapon systems".

Level 37
Cort used his free hand to raise his visor, as if somehow it had caused him to imagine the sight of murder servitors carving their way through the mutant hordes. They had seemed jubilant, as if skipping through a field of blood and viscera.
"Throne above..." he murmured in amazement, he glanced to Chelsea with a grin "Instead of messing around with the Schola I should have simply focused on acquiring more murder-servitors". Then he heard the roar in the distance, sliding his visor back down he double checked his footing and aimed down the iron sights, waiting for the next wave to appear.

[Inspector Valin]

Scythia blinked twice, before laughing heartily at the spectacle, the helms-woman's voice booming out across the battlefield. To see the horde cut to pieces so easily was a sight to restore faith in the most jaded soul. She turned her head to Chelsea, grinning wide at her Captain, and nodding emphatically. "Well said, ma'am. Let's show these creatures what we're capable of."

Simple words given, Scy turned back towards the direction of the howl, flourishing her blade, a touch of her optimism fading at the distant darkness. The Muder Servitors had proven their worth, but now the Hullghast knew what they were dealing with. Now, they'd be faced with everything the mutants had. Commander Wake gripped her blade hilt, holding it in a fencer's guard as she waited for the Warp-Spawn to show themselves. This fight was not done yet.

[Retrokinesis]

Ambrell didn't like the battlefield. It was too open, with no room for her to open her eye. The murder-servitors didn't seem to mind at all. She lowers her ornate handcannon and shakes her head. "Magos Novem, a thought. Would it be possible to build a murder-servitor conversion chamber on the Glaive? I'm sure we could acquire some 'volunteers' from a rival colony or the dregs of Footfall... "

[The Architect]

Level 38

The second wave did not crash harmlessly upon the rocks like the first.

From the left and right of the space came equal torrents of the razor tooth creatures and the bridge crew were left to witness one of the most horrific scenes of barbarism they had ever witnessed. Their men died screaming. Bil's throat was torn out over the dirt, Vylen clutched at his intestines as they spilled from a gaping wound in his stomach, as if he could put them back in, and Luca? Scythia and Marcus would never forget the sound he made as he died.

The armsmen fell.

The Murder-servitors, as if some part of them remember comradeship, tore into the horde that assailed them, as they had the last, but this one did not buckle as the first had. Every soul that still lived could feel it. They were slaughtered and dismembered, but some few survivors held. That thin membrane between victory and defeat strained. Many were dead on both sides but now was the moment when it was decided who would be the last one standing.

Among all this carnage though Marcus' saw something of the truth of things. This is what whatever dark spirit that had gifted the Hullghast Supreme had wanted, not destruction, not victory, but carnage, but war, but blood, but this.

The battle was a vicious gun smoke filled struggle knee deep in corpses and stinking like a charnel house.

It was chaos.

Novem, you're up!

[Inspector Valin]

Scythia's stomach churned at the carnage that enveloped their armsmen. She'd never seen allies fall like that, face to face. That group that'd stood with them, been ready to keep them safe... fell one by one to the fangs and claws of the Hullghast. Good men, torn apart and falling into the dirt and mire of this Emperor-Forsaken deck, as though in some cosmictaunt for their past earlier success. Some part of the Void-Master felt she could hear the Dark Gods, laughing at them. The Warp didn't claim you. But it's servants might

She glanced sideways. Novem and the Murder-Servitors were still standing. If anyone was to have a chance of surviving, they'd need to keep them alive. That meant driving the wretched mutants back as far as possible. Gritting her teeth, Scythia brought her bolt pistol upwards, charging straight towards the father horde. Flash after flash rang out from her pistol as she went, every shot exploding in a shower of metal and anger. In seconds, Scythia is atop the mob, still firing and yelling at the top of her lungs. "FALL, YOU FILTH!"

SemiAutomatic fire with Scythia's Bolt Pistol on the Southern Horde, moving to put Scythia between them and Novem/Novem's gun Servitors.

48 BS +10 (MIU) +30 (Massive Horde) +10 (Short Range).

[roll0] TN 98

[devinebovine]

As the new hordes drew close, Novem called back to the Navigator.

"I had requested a laboratorium, however our esteemed Lady-Captain decided the auto-temple was too valuable to lose. I would recommend," he paused to direct his gun-servitors and atomize two shrieking mutants with his plasma gun, "that we keep our eyes open for workshop facilities so that we can procure more of these blessed butchers!"

[Glarx]

"It was the--" Chelsea lobbed the grenade out towards the horde on her right, taking a moment to aim before doing so, "--arboretum that was more important, actually, not the temple!"

[Toxic Mind]

"A wise decision, Master Engiseer." Marcus shouts over the howling mob. It is all he can do to suppress the violence and death surrounding him from overwhelming his psyche. He aims his Long-las and fires. This time the shot bisects the skull of one of the ghasts. He can feel the glory of the Emperor settle around him, willing more shots to fly, but he cannot concern himself with these petty rabble. If get he battle is to be own, the leader must be found.


Psyniscience
[roll0] vs 39

[Rising Chaos]

Cort pressed the trigger of the heavy stubber and felt the weapon buckle in his hands, with a grim horror he realized most of his shots were either going wild or simply grazing the oncoming horde. As far as he could tell he had inflicted no actual damage on them. He sighed and dropped the heavy weapon, as it slammed into the deck with a loud 'thud' he reached for the bolter slung to his back.
"Teach me to mess with weapons I've not trained with" he muttered under his breath.

[Retrokinesis]

"A shame, really. Though I do love to stroll through the arboretum... " Ambrell's tone would seem to indicate she is discussing poor weather rather than hordes of Warpspawned monstrosities seeking to devour them. She aims and idly snaps a shot off at the group, more to have something to do than because she actually expected it to hit. "Perhaps we could compromise? Outfit the arboretum with servitor facilities? Just something to keep in mind, Lord-Captain... "

[The Architect]

Level 38

The barrage of mass reactive shells, servitor blades, and that were giggly hacking cough like sound Buttercup disemboweled the creatures was filling the air when the tide turned. The creatures ceased their charge and as if there was a singular snap in their courage began to fall back. The Murder Servitors, following their programming, raced off after them, leaving those on the roof, the gun-servitors, the tech-priest and the helmswoman alone among hundreds of fresh corpses.

Robocrantz gave a beep as if awaiting orders, Girderstern rhymed off a homily on the dangers of straying into boltgun fire in the instantaneous language of techno-lingua. Nothing moved for a moment.

In the distance there were the cries of butchery.

The closer, much closer, a howl of bloodlust and fury.

Another breather moment between waves if you guys want to chat.

[Glarx]

Chelsea pressed her microbead. "Murder-servitors, return now. You are needed here." She rolled her eyes and shrugged to the Techpriest. "They're usually much better at staying in formation. They're precise tools, not mindless killing machines. Something must have gotten into them today."

[The Architect]

Frenzy Talent, they have to attack the nearest enemy.

[Inspector Valin]

Bolters ring and grenades blast, as the unstoppable tide of mutants met the immovable House Verata defence. Scythia stood there as the Hullghast fled, her white armor stained black and green with mutant blood, firing the few remaining shots left within her bolt pistol before she was done, and the creatures had slunk back into the shadows. The combat coming to a half, the ex-navy officer absently ejected her pistol clip, reloading out of impulse rather than thought. Her mind still lingered on the spectacle behind her. The desecrated corpses of the Ebon Glaive's Armsmen. Her new shipmates, fallen in a matter of seconds...

"Lord Captain, ma'am...." The newly appointed Helmswoman's voice drifted across the brief silence, Scy turning up to meet her superior's eyes. She was trying as hard as she could to sound detached and collected, grinning at her as best she could. To the more experienced ears around her, however, Scythia was an open book, fear still playing out in every note of her voice. "Is all this normal around here?"

[Glarx]

The Lady-Captain looked down and shook her head. "I don't think we've ever had an army of mutants attempting to take over the entirety of the ship in the name of a Chaos God, no. Normally it's taken care of, regulated internally. Twist-catchers and armsmen would have been on duty. Speaking of servitors, I'm starting to think we should invest in a servitor reclamation bay. Turn the whole damn crew into automatons. No more daemons, no more time dilation, no more dealing with idiots who get butchered after ten seconds' exposure to mutants. Food for thought."

[Rising Chaos]

Cort Watched with grim satisfaction as the murder servitors chased after their prey. It was followed by the immediate concern that their most effective killing weapons had just disappeared into the darkness. Racking the slide of his bolter he shrugged as the Captain suggested a servitor reclamation facility, "It would certainly create a much more effective, if monotonous crew" he agreed.

He flipped on his helmet's vox-caster and attempted to reach the Glaive's Bridge "Glaive Command, we have multiple casualties on this floor, requesting additional support, over?"

[Toxic Mind]

And the temperature rose. Or at least it felt like it. Even those without a psychic sense could feel the heat of unchecked rage as it played across their skin. "These were men with lives. Cares. Wants and dreams. Not toys. Not disposable." Marcus walked towards the group, and where he stood in the bilge, the water boiled. Fury radiated out of him like the heat of a sun. His teeth are clenched, and it is clear to all who can see him that his fury is only barely checked. This is a side of Marcus Caius that none of them have seen before. The normally cool and immutable Astropath is clearly somewhere beyond anger or fear.

"This killing will end. We will defeat this servant of Chaos, and then, Captain," he almost spat the word "you and I will talk. We will talk of priorities. Of what the meaning of each life lost here was. And we will talk of the Emperor's Grace and what it means to serve him."

[Glarx]

Chelsea smiled at her astropath. "If you say so, Choirmaster. You did say you had something that couldn't wait -- I had presumed it was the danger threatening the hundreds of thousands of Imperial faithful on this ship, which those men just gave their lives to protect. I'm well aware of the cost and value of any one life, and I'm also aware that sacrifices must be made." She looked down at the carnage below, her smile leaving.

"If you want me to look upon the damage these mutants have caused, and you wish for me to buckle and break under each, then you are in for disappointment. My mission, the mission my family was charged with by the Emperor Himself by way of our Warrant of Trade, is more important than a few deaths, and if I must cope with death after death with gallows humor, then I will do so at my pleasure." She exhaled, closing her eyes and shaking it for a moment, before returning her sight to the astropath.

"Oh, and it's Lady-Captain. Not captain. Peer of the Imperium."

[Retrokinesis]

"Nibbles! Come bac- drat". Ambrell calls after the retreating murder-servitors, their best defense against the mutant hordes, and sighs. "Poor Nibbles and friends, all alone in the dank tunnels. Magos Novem, would you be able to do something about that? I don't like the idea of my protectors chasing squigs while an ork horde bears down on me".

Disagreements among the senior staff, hmm? Interesting. She decides it would be best not to get involved and see how things turn out on their own.

[Inspector Valin]

It doesn't take an astropath to see that Chelsea's answer grated on Scythia Wake. The men had not yet turned cold, had died doing all they could to protect the bridge crew... and that was all the Lord Captain had to say? The young Helmswoman frowned, shaking her head, tone turning just shy of anger. Only just "If it wasn't for the gun servitors, Novem and I would've probably joined them, ma'am. And that's as much a question of arms as personnel."

Her thoughts given, if unasked for, Scy turned back to the darkness, trying to determine the direction of that last howl. Whatever else she felt, there wasn't time for this. Fighting now, insubordination later.

[roll0] Awareness, TN 35

[Rising Chaos]

Looking up from his vox, Cort watched the exchange between Marcus, Scythia and Chelsea with interest. It was good to know the Lady-Captain was fair-handed with all of her senior staff, and after what Cort had just finished doing he had no intention of getting anywhere near that exchange. Instead he looked over to Navigator Ambrell and tilted his head in bemusement. "Pardon my language Navigator, but what the gak is a squig?"

[Toxic Mind]

There is a crack like a ship snapping itself free of the warp, and Marcus falls heavily to his knees. He raises his head, and confusion and worry are etched in every line.

"Lady-Captain? What...." His words stumble upon themselves. "I heard your comment, and then... Emperor watch over me, did I harm anyone?" Marcus looks down at his weaponless hands. "The hate, the death. I was searching for the leader of these beasts and I must have opened too much. Please tell me you are unharmed, my lady."

Marcus shakes his head. "I am fine now, but I should not search for this monster any longer. The barrier between the warp and our world is very thin here. This carnage and death, this fear, this battle. The monster we are facing wanted this. This... sacrifice."


That whole thing was for the terrible roll Psyniscience earlier. Though Marcus still feels rather strongly about what was just proposed.

[Glarx]

"Then thank the Emperor we had access to those servitors. Which underscores my prior point about reclamation bays." Chelsea reloaded the longlas and cracked her neck. "I intend to give them a funeral in the temple, and I intend to speak at that funeral. Let's not judge the depravity of my soul based on the humor I employ while we wait for hellish creatures from beyond the mortal plane to attack us, okay? A little patience."

She smiled at the astropath. "If you had attempted to harm me, Choirmaster, you would be dead now. But thank you for your concern -- I'm fine. No irreconcilable damage done to me or to your reputation. Let's focus on snuffing out the life of whatever is threatening my ship, and then we can get to mending bridges, hmm?"

You knew he was damaged ever since you helped save him. This isn't new.

[Retrokinesis]

Ambrell shakes her head and answers Cort. "It's an ork... thing? Some kind of pet".

She raises an eyebrow at the Astropath's sudden shift in mood, but doesn't pry. Opening one's senses to the Warp tended to have adverse effects, after all.

[Toxic Mind]

"Depravity of..." Marcus tilted his head and looked at Chelsea oddly. "Lady-Captain Verata, in the absence of a formal Chaplain, I am responsible for the souls of every man, woman, and child on this vessel, and during the warp-storm, I held the souls of each of those together. If I believed your soul to be depraved, I would not be on this ship, no matter what your choices of humor or opinions are, nor the debt I owe your family." Marcus smiled, and he was back, the Marcus they had known for so long. "Indeed, let us focus on the true enemy, the creatures that caused this."

Just when Chelsea believed that Marcus had ignored, or not heard, the threat she had stated, his cool voice sounded in her mind. "I would expect nothing less, Lady Verata" and in that message, there was peace and contentment.

[The Architect]

Level 38

As the argument continued something leap down from one of the railings above. When it slammed down the roof itself caved in with a resounding warping of steel, leaving a crater of dented metal around where it stood.

It was smart, or at least it knew how to hunt. It had spent the time the other creatures had wasted slamming into corpses and weaklings circling around and above the group, and he was now too far into the roof for the heavy bolters to line up a shot from so far below.

The creature stood over ten feet tall while hunched over, a Hullghast in only the loosest sense. His chest bore a carved in mark that hurt to stare upon that oozed with fresh blood at a rate that should have left even so titanic a foe a crumpled heap. His skin was covered in drying viscera and his right arm was disproportionately massive even for his enormous bulk. His face was an inhuman mask of bronze, filled with a hollowing mouth of metal fangs and cloaked in billowing smoke within which burn two hateful embers. It bellowed again and the terrifying creature brought up its fist...


"BLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD!"

Fear (2) Test Everybody! (Willpower Test @ -10)

[devinebovine]

"I do apologize, Ambrell, but the machine-spirits which inhabit the sanctified murder-servitors are relentless and wild. They are not beholden to orders or commands given by we mortals. They drift upon the soft currents of hate, as the pollen upon the arboretum's air purifiers. They flow along the waters of bloodlust, like the gentle streams which feed the much-vaunted trees. A murder-servitor is a vessel of divine dismemberment, and heeds only the call of death it feels within its cogi-heart. I can no more order them to return than you could travel back in time and replace those damned plants with something useful, like a furnace."

Novem checked his gun for heat damage. He was pleased with its performance. An instrument of the Emperor's hate and the Omnissiah's power. These foul demi-humans had broken upon them like waves upon a shore, and were now fleeing with the murder-servitors chasing behind. They would soon be snuffed out. Indeed the venture had concluded far more quickly then he had imagined it would -

<<METAL AND FLESH BURN-MELDED WITH BLOOD OIL GREASE MAW OF FIRE TEETH HATE FLESH BLOOD NO LIGHT BLOOD CARNAGE DOOM AND METAL AND FLESH AND BLOOD>>

[Glarx]

Chelsea vomited in fear, dropping the longlas to the ground. The bile -- mostly comprised of wine, which added an interesting bouquet to the sharp acrid timbre of the digestive juices -- splashed into her helmet. It was a supremely unenjoyable experience. She flailed about, attempting to remove her helmet and drain the vomit before she inhaled it from the screaming and drowned.

[The Architect]

Level 38

As the Tech-Priest and the Captain reeled in fear of the Warp-warped beast the creature launched forward, a storm of lashing giant fangs and claws, slashing between the Astropath and the Seneschal, trying to find purchase between the plates of their armor and so, end them.

[Toxic Mind]

As the beast came down, Marcus stared it in the face, or at least what looked like its' face. He felt, rather than saw, the Lady-Captain and the Engiseer go down. "You expect me to cower, brute? The Emperor guides my hand. You are nothing before His might." Marcus says defiantly, never looking away from his foe. The rest of the crew with them still stood. He was not alone.

The beast lashed out, faster than Marcus could have expected. He tried to jump back, to move out of the way - too slow, too slow - when the Rosaius at his neck burst into a corona of light. The creature's claws, inches from disemboweling him, turned aside.

As the stupid brute stared blankly, as if wondering why his claw wasn't covered in the gore of one defiant Astropath, Marcus lashes out with his sword. He swings -Emperor take you brute!- but the blow glances off the hide of the creature. Marcus' sword, while faithful, clearly needed some upgrading. Marcus figured that the stabby end would work just fine though.

[Rising Chaos]

Cort turned as the beast howled at him, the size of the monster startled him, it's sheer power and ferocity making him pause. As he did the beast delivered a vicious backhand that knocked Cort to the side a few paces and opened vicious jagged tears across his carapace armour. As Cort regained balance he felt a burning pain start to spread from his wounds, but he managed to ignore it. Focusing on the monster at hand Cort raised his bolter and took aim, failing to notice that the Hullghast was bringing it's arm back around for a second attack.

The second blow slammed into Cort's head with such force it shattered his helmet's visor. Time seemed to slow for the Seneshal, and he swore he could see a jagged piece of his visor in elaborate detail. The reflective surface gleaming with the underlain hexagonal patterns, right before it slammed into his head and all but bisected his left eye. As Cort's helmet rebounded off the metal surface the Seneschal slammed into the deck with a meaty 'crunch', howling in agony for a few moments before passing out and beginning the unimpressive job of bleeding to death...

[Inspector Valin]

The creature's roar knocked any remaining bravado from the entire party. Scythia just stood in awe for a second, cowed by the monstrosity, before the cold steel in her hand brought the Void Master back to reality. It was threatening her crewmates, and she was armed. Checking the field on her power sword, the Commander muttered "Drown in it, demon filth." before starting to run straight towards the increasingly unstable looking hovel.

Most people would've been intimidated, trying to leap a distance like that with weapons drawn. Most people are not Scythia Wake. The young Commander had lived aboard voidships her entire life; and knew well the acrobatic feats that dangerous situations sometimes nessecitated. Regrettably, the gravity in this area was still active, but that was of little concern. Grinning, Scy put her feet to the wall, and twisted her feet upwards: going from a sprint to a twirl calculated to bring her down atop the hovel.

The young Wake alights upon the roof with an elegent twist of the feet; as though she were to begin a dance rather than a duel. Glancing across, she saw the situation clearly; her Comrades were having trouble against the abomination. Grinning wide, Scy let her momentum continue, golden flaring blade striking down against the Hullghast's massive form. "Starting without me, mutant? I'm offended. Thought you wanted someone to run you through."

Charge movement of 12 meters, should more than qualify Scy for this. Assuming she can pull it off.

Strength Check, to pull herself up. [roll0] TN 62
Charge attack! [roll1] TN 57 (37 +10 (Charging) +10 (Hulking) +20 (Ganging Up) -20 (Off Hand))

If this hits when none of the other attacks have...

[The Architect]

Level 38

The creature roars as he knocks Cort to the down, a shot ringing out and exploding in the beast's shoulder.

He has only just turned on the helmswoman when she drives the blade through his leg. The creature roars out in a mix of agony and rage. It seems it will take more to take the creature down, but that much again might be enough.

Now the question is can everyone survive long enough to wound it so.

That answer seemed to come too soon as the beast turned back on the heroic Helmswoman and Astropath for another attack.

Attack Roll; [roll0] vs. TN64; Attacking Marcus
Damage Roll; [roll1]; Tearing Dice; [roll2] ; 5 R Total
Toxic; on a Hit make a Challenging (+0) Toughness Test, on a Failure take 1d10 damage.

Don't forget Dodge and Forcefield.

Attack Roll; [roll3] vs. TN64; Attacking Scythia
Damage Roll; [roll4]; Tearing Dice; [roll5]; 6 R Total
Toxic; on a Hit make a Challenging (+0) Toughness Test, on a Failure take 1d10 damage.

Don't forget you can dodge or parry.

Damage Reduction included above.

[Glarx]

Her helmet liberated and the bile done leaking down her armour, Chelsea felt something snap inside of her. She couldn't describe it in any other terms, but she was sure as hell she knew what she was doing after this son of a bitch was dead.

Pulling out her plasma pistol, she pressed the side of her micro-bead.

"Bridge, teleport Seneschal Zollin to the medbay and prepare to save his life! If he dies, so do you!"

[The Architect]

Level 38

A terrified voice snapped back over the microbead "Sir, yes sir. Energizing, OVER!"

There was a thunderous boom and a hole of myriad purple and red hues opened in reality and Cort was pulled through, willing or not, to slam down in the Teleportarium room, which someone had been smart enough to include within walking distance of the Medbay in the ship's design.

"Lord-Captain, we have several squads of Armsmen on route to your location but they are several minutes away at best. Officer Luca is not responding, what is the situation? Over."

[Glarx]

"Officer Luca and his men gave their lives stymieing and staunching the flow of mutants -- they have gone to fight for the God-Emperor of Mankind, and will be remembered aboard the Ebon Glaive as true heroes, men to aspire to! They fought valiantly against a horde, giving no quarter, providing resistance against insurmountable odds. Even as we cried for them to come with us, they insisted on giving us time to prepare the servitors and protect the ship. Heroes, truly -- and after we're done sheering the head off this gigantic monstrosity, we will be holding a ship-wide funeral in their honor, and in the honor of all those who were lost in the warp transit to Footfall."

[The Architect]

Level 38

The line goes silent as the vox-caster crewman orders the other bridge crew to prepare how ever they can to help "Understood Sir, may the Emperor protect you! Over."

Well said! :smallbiggrin:

[Toxic Mind]

Marcus has no time to speak, or even to think, but he has heard the Lady-Captain's words. A smile appears on his face, an odd sight given the fatal dance he is currently locked in, but it maters little. What he always knew had been confirmed.


Concurrence: Well said.

[Inspector Valin]

Meanwhile, Scythia and Marcus each catch the beast's talons in turn, Scythia's golden power sword shining bright in the darkness of the battlefield. The hulking creature winced in pain as it's claw met the intensity of the energy field, catching it along the leathery arm. Scy caught the look in the monster's eyes, and laughed, the sound booming across the deck. "What's wrong, twist? Not as easy as killing unarmed children, IS IT?!"

She might be fighting against claws rather than a baton, but these were fencing techniques. Scy knew what she was doing here. With a flourish, the Commander brought her blade upwards, driving the creature back through breaking the guard. Before the Hullghast can charge at her again however, Scythia's bolt-pistol is raised straight towards the massive being. With a nod of the head, Helmsmaster Wake pulled the trigger tight, sending blast after blast of shining metal straight towards the great mutant-beast. A storm of death, worthy of an Officer in the Imperial Navy.

Semi-Automatic fire. +10 Semi-Auto +10 MIU +10 Hulking +30 Ganging Up/Point Blank Range.

[roll0] Ballistic Skill. TN 108. Up to 3 attacks total, +1 for each 2 degrees of success on that roll. I'll roll each below

[roll1] +5 Pen 4
[roll2] +5 Pen 4
[roll3] +5 Pen 4

That hit with all three attacks, sorry for messing up the damage. I'll roll it in the OOC

[Retrokinesis]

Perhaps inspired by the Lady-Captain's words, Ambrell manages to land a shot from the massive handcannon on the beast. Her third eye stutters and fails to open when she attempts to channel its power, however.

[The Architect]

Level 38

The mass reactive shells and Ambrells bullet erupt across the beasts chest like a fireworks display of smoke, scorched blood and meat, and as the torrent dies down they feel the terror swell again. They remember Cort's bloody face and body, they feel their wounds. It looms over them.

Then ...

Timber. The beast falls back and slams down on its rear, a sprayed out corpse atop the roof, like so many below.

It is dead.

After a few moments the distance sound of gunfire can be heard as the armsmen arrive far off, starting to deal with the few remaining Hullghasts.

It is done.

Going to close out the 'session' and open the next one nowish, once I look over a few things, so feel free to chat, etc. :smallsmile:

[Glarx]

Chelsea slumped down, her face burning with the caustic acid of her stomach, her throat burning with the same, her nose burning yet again with the same. She was tired. So, so tired. Her brain was hurting. Her wit was leaking out of her. She wasn't happy. The holo-suit faded her into the surroundings, and she was grateful not to be looked at directly for a little bit. She just panted, collecting herself, trying to rest. She'd done nothing to help. Really, her presence had been entirely unnecessary. Perhaps you aren't necessary at all. Just your blood. And you can give birth to someone worthy without any trouble, can't you?

She stood up and began to hobble towards the exit, sheathing her sword, her pistol, and holstering the longlas to her back. She carried the helmet at arm's length, happy not to add to the smell already in her nostrils. "Shower first. Then we can talk, choirmaster. And then I check on Cort. Then I... should probably eat something. And then sleep. If anyone else wants to scream at me, go for it. After the shower, though."

[devinebovine]

Scooping the remainder of the oil-and-vomit mixture from his facegrill, Novem picked up his plasma gun, looking to get back in the fight. However as he did so he saw the horrible beast collapse under its many wounds. Quickly Novem fired a couple shots into a pile of ghast corpses. He called out to the rest of the party. "All clear down here, I caught a couple trying to sneak up behind you. You can all come down from up there, it should be safe now."

"Lady-Captain, I will attend at once to the medicae bay. I am certain Cort has been stabilized, but I wish to make certain that his body is prepared for the machine blessings he will soon acquire. I will send down some priests to see to the servitors' re-stasis rites."

Novem quickly exited Deck 38, his servos and gears still shaking from the monstrosity he had witnessed. He would see to it personally that this deck was cleansed, and every atom of taint burned and scoured from it. These decks would be made holy again some day.

[Toxic Mind]

Chelsea felt a hand on her shoulder. Marcus stood next to her, a wry smile on his face. "It was unfair of me to say what I said earlier, and for that I apologize. I will not allow any strange vicissitude of the warp to excuse my actions. Rest assured, you have aquitted yourself with honor today." Marcus opens his mouth to say more, than thinks better of it. "We can talk more later, after you have seen to our Senechal. Blessings of the Emperor upon you, Lady-Captain."

[Inspector Valin]

Scythia nodded as the beast fell, a satisfied grin on her face. This was the proper conclusion to this fight. She looked across to the Navigator, the other woman's hand cannon still smoking, and whistled appreciatively. The crossfire at the end of the fight had been inspiring to watch. "Nicely done! You're a woman of hidden talents, Ambrell." She gestured upwards, towards the darkness of the bulkhead, chuckling. "Drink in my office later to celebrate?"

Brought back to the rest of her companions by Chelsea's words, Scythia's grin shifts to a look of worry. She glanced across to the Lord-Captain, raising an eyebrow, but refraining from comment. No Captain wanted to look weak in front of their subordinates. Still, whatever was wrong with her was concerning. If Scy could assist, she should. I wonder if she'd shoot me if I looked in on her later.

[The Architect]

CHAPTER I
'Footfall; Part I of II'

Conclusion...

Level 38

The Captain, such as she was, hobbled away into the darkness, soon flanked by the Gun-servitors and the tech-priest. The bodies still filled the space, but now the Hullghasts were thick over the armsmen.

The Guardians were dead, the mutants were dead, the armsmen were dead and the hullghasts were all, to the last, dead.

What solace could be taken in that made the horrific scene, at least in that tiny moment, bareable...


~ CHAPTER END ~

800 Experience Points (WARNING: This INCLUDES the 100 experience given out earlier in the session)
0 Profit Factor
100 Achievement Points towards the Current Endeavor

I should have the beginning of the 2nd chapter up soon, don't post in the IC till then. :smallsmile:

[The Architect]

CHAPTER II
'Footfall; Part II of II'

http://dreamworlds.ru/uploads/posts/2009-08/thumbs/1251714417_frontispiece_talents-chapter-ifs.jpg

The Ebon Glaive...

The tumultuous events of the night before have left most of the senior officers of the Ebon Glaive injured or drained, with Cort's injuries estimated to take some time to recover. His assistants have begun making in-roads and vox messages to delay the meetings but he was in surgery during the time period he was set to meet Rosa . . .

We're probably going to have a bit of timeskip soon, a week or two, depending on Novem's Medicae roll, to account for Cort's healings, but before then if Cort wants to talk to any aboard the ship or if there is anything anyone wants to do immediately after, well morning after, the battle they can do so now. :smallsmile:

[Glarx]

Chelsea, having finally slept -- and having appointed an acting First Officer and informed them that, on pain of very public, very brutal, very graphic torture they were not to interrupt her with any calls -- was ready to deal with the world. She strode down to the Choirmaster's Office. It was time to see him.

"Choirmaster Caius? Are you around?" She wore a dress and heels, jewelry and finery. A dazzling choker, decorative hairpins, her makeup was well applied. She'd taken her time, reasserting herself in her own body to shut the incessant voice up.

[Toxic Mind]

Choirmaster's Quarters

Marcus opens his eyes at Chelsea's greeting from the other side of the door. He is sitting, currently, in the middle of his office, on a rug that is twin to the one in the Sanctum Psykana. "I am here. Come in."

As the Captain walked in, she would trade places with Ysa, who had been sitting on the same rug with Marcus. Ysa nods once to the Captain, but otherwise seems too awestruck to say more, and hurries back to her quarters. "You look the part, Lady-Captain. I hope this is not all for me." Marcus quips, laughter in his voice as he indicates his own clothing, robes which, while clean, were hardly stylish or formal.

Chelsea would have noticed a glowing white rune on Marcus' forehead that had not been there before the fight.


The very real effect of spending XP on Rite of Sanctioning

[Glarx]

"No, no. I just needed to forget the fact I had to wash my own bile off my face last night," she said with a grin, walking over to the psyker to give him a kiss on either side of the face. "I understand we have a new passenger on board. Or rather, we've finally become aware of her."

[Inspector Valin]

Meanwhile, the navy-blue figure of Scythia Wake ducked past a plasteel door, into the Medicae corridor, and procceeded down the rooms one by one. She was fairly sure Novem wouldn't take kindly to her presence here, 'disturbing the patient before the ritual of implantation' and didn't want to risk the Enginseer's reaction in any case. She didn't have much to do or say here, not to Cort Zollia. The man was a reprobate, ganger, and the one member of the Glaive's officer staff Scy honestly and completely didn't trust for a second. Competence aside, Cort made no secret of who he was or how he approached things, didn't seem to feel the slightest shame for all those years spent snubbing his nose at Imperial Law. Scy didn't know why old Lord Verata, or Chelsea, or whoever had chosen to keep him around, save perhaps as a necessity in desperate times.

But damn it, Zollia'd stood with them, shed blood for the ship, and almost lost his life for it. She had to at least pay the man a visit.

Finally at the correct room, the Commander stepped through the door, looking down at Cort. Injuries; another new thing for her. Most Naval Deaths she'd witnessed were distant, voices over vox and then an empty casket fired into the Void. Seeing bodies torn apart, hearing men scream, smelling the blood wafting slowly on the dank air... this was the other side to that. A many laying there, battered and blooded, one eye covered by a cog-wheel stamp, in preperation for the opperation that was to happen later.

From across the room, Scythia couldn't tell if Cort was awake or asleep. After a second of silent observation, the Void-Master stepped across the spotless flaw, placing a hand gently on the Seneschal's shoulder. "Hey." She looked down at Cort, face neutral for a few moments, before slowly sinking into a smile. "Not dead yet, then?"

[devinebovine]

<<Right ocular globe diminished by 96.4%. Deep facial lacerations infected by unknown and molecularly-impossible toxin. Diagnosis: Remove remaining ocular tissue and prepare socket for machine blessings. Purge infected flesh and flood immune system with sanguinators to neutralize toxin.>>

Novem set to work on the unconscious Cort. He had seen far worse. He had served his time slaving away in the loading docks and plasma-piston bays, and seen men's limbs pulverized in a microsecond by pounding machinery, torsos rent asunder by loose chains, and heads turned into projectiles from explosively vaporized bodies. A lost eye was a minor thing, all things considered, however still traumatic to the patient. Careful and precise surgery and treatment was needed. Novem had begun to learn the art of organic care when he began his Mechanicus training on board the Explorator void ship. He was taught that the body, as imperfect as it was, was nevertheless another type of machine, with complicated systems, fragile infrastructure, and low-powered cogitator unit. But it was still holy, and he had passionately argued with those Tech-Priests who's hubris kept them from even considering the medicae arts as worthy of consideration. The irony was that they needed skilled medicaes to receive their augmetics.

With Cort's eye socket scooped out and sterilized, he lit the incense and candles and carefully rubbed the ointment of hopeful uplifting on the soft tissue within. Gently over the hole he placed a cog-shaped device, and the tiny healing spirits within sealed and kept the tissue primed for their eventual blessings. "Blessed Omnissiah, grant salvation upon this flesh with your presence. Prepare it for your grace that it may spread your gifts into the darkness." His sacred duty done, Novem left the rest of the work he left to the ship's medicaes.

He returned to quarters and took a much-needed 3.78 hours of rest. His nightmares were haunted by pale, faceless beasts that bled oil and melted his augmetics with the fires belching from their chests.

[Toxic Mind]

Marcus motioned for Chelsea to sit with him on the rug. The warding stitching patterned around them, glowing faintly. Marcus smiles at her comment and a faint blush touches his cheeks. "I had fully intended to make you aware of the situation, save that other matters took some precedence. Have you heard anything of how our Seneschal is managing? I did not see much, as it was far more worried about not ending the same as him, but the wound did look rather severe. Still, I sense his soul among us, so it was not fatal."

Marcus takes Chelsea's hands in his. "Using the Teleportarium to save him was foolish Lady-Captain. Foolish, and the most noble action I have seen in quite some time. The Emperor surely smiles on you for that."

"Since you are not here for a social visit, I can only assume you are here to talk about Astra. What do you want to know?"

[Rising Chaos]

Medical Bay
Cort's vitality surprised even the physicians in the med bay. Though he should have still been been unconscious for hours or even days after Novem's latest round of surgery he had awoken about an hour after the tech-priest had retired to his quarters. It had taken the better part of half an hour for the medics to explain what had happened and how long he'd been out. Once they'd finished Cort had immediately set about gathering assistants and sending them back out into Footfall, with orders to find Rosa and shadow her (as discreetly as they could), and send the Red Schola an apology for his long absence. He hadn't heard back from them since, and had drifted from a mix of fuming over his actions that had brought him here and trying to piece together the next steps of his plans.

He came to as he felt a pressure on his shoulder, opening his eye he glanced up at the Void-Master, surprised to see her. He didn't exactly have a good reputation with navymen, he'd gotten into some trouble and a few fistfights with officers in his early days on Footfall. With a pang of irony he realized he was now for all intents and purposes one of those officers he and his friends had spent their youth taunting and insulting.
He nodded to Scythia and flashed his trademark smirk "Not allowed to die yet. I've got too much responsibility on my shoulders at the moment" he said with a chuckle. "Heard you guys managed fairly well without me though"

[Glarx]

She sat on her knees, fixing the edge of her dress as she did so. "I will be visiting the medicae bay once our Prime Enginseer lets me know the surgery is complete. I do not wish to see Cort when he is in a moment of such supreme vulnerability. He wouldn't care for it, I should imagine. As for my actions... he was bleeding out. You saw the blood. Well... not really, but you know what I mean. In a manner of speaking, you saw it." She pulled out a pack of lho and offered one to him. "I couldn't let him die" Chelsea added, in a soft voice.

She put a lho stick in between her lips, but didn't light it. She just sat there, eyes unfocused. "Tell me about Astra."

[Toxic Mind]

"And that fact matters more to me than you may know." Marcus says, equally quiet. He waves away the Iho stick. He had used such things before he was bonded to the Emperor, but now he saw them as little more than a distraction.

Marcus reached his hand out pressing one of his hands to Chelsea's temple. "Shall we speak in the mind?"

[Glarx]

"Marcus, you're going to want to stop touching me now. We'll speak in person." Chelsea wasn't exactly afraid of psykers, not in the way most people were, but she didn't like things being in her mind. Only the little voice of insanity was allowed to populate her mind. "And if you want me to be merciful towards an unsanctioned psyker on my ship, this probably wasn't the best way to go about it."

[Toxic Mind]

"As you say, My Lady" Marcus folds his hands back in front of him. The wardings dim.

Marcus stands, and walks to his desk. The purpose of the wardings is moot, and his mood for meditation rather ruined. He motions to a chair across from his desk and begins. "Astra is a Guardian, and as far as I know, the last of them. They fought the Hullghasts beneath our feet for generations and until the warp storm, had apparently done a fine enough job of it.They are also unsanctioned psykers, and Astra is one of particular power. Marcus leans across the desk. She is far from insane, and in fact has weathered the storm and the loss of her family better than even I expected. She was invaluable in determining the foe we faced. She allowed me to enter her mind, and showed me the Hullghast Supreme, so that we might be better prepared for it."

Marcus stops, and looks at Chelsea, inviting comments and questions.

[Inspector Valin]

In spite of herself, Scythia matched Cort's grin. It was hard not to laugh alongside the First Officer, no matter how you tried. And even beyond that, the Helmswoman realized, it was good to see him being his old self. Smiling, chuckling, not giving a damn. Scy tilted her head slightly, looking down at the bed-bound figure before nodding, snickering to herself. Both at her words, and the fact that they were true.[ COLOR="RoyalBlue"]"Yep. Ambrell stepped up to fill your shoes. Soul of a killer, our Navigator." At least when she's got that old relic to hand[/COLOR]

Sighing a little, the Commander leaned back against the wall, smirk fading a little. She wasn't sure how much anyone'd told the injured Seneschal... or how much it was safe to tell him. Scy paused for a moment, deliberating, before inwardly resolving on her path. He deserved some more positivity. "The leader-thing went down hard. Don't know if was capable of feeling pain, but Emperor's Name, I hope it did. We've been clearing Hullghast out of the deck since. No ruler, no unity, no will to fight. They're easy pickings now."

The thought of the battle brought on thought of the aftermath. Scy'd been one of the last to leave Twist Twon, looking down at the bodies of their armsmen. Someone had needed to assemble them, collect their idents, have things in order for the morgue. No one had wanted that job, however. So it'd fallen to her. Going through face after face, bloodied body after acid dripping wound, with that damned butchar's smell still wafting in the air....

Sighing to herself, Scythia placed a hand to her forehead. The young Helmsmistress was not going to enjoy the second topic of conversations. But she should still make things clear, even though each word sounded more hesitant than the last. "Luca and his lot were... about as bad as it looked." That was as far as the Void master could manage. Frown all the deeper, Scy shook her head, voice growing quieter now. "Light of Terra, Cort. Have you ever seen men fall to something like that before?"

[Rising Chaos]

Cort nodded, his smirk fading. He had told few of the Glaive's crew about his experiences over Iniquity. As far as he knew only Lady Chelsea, whom he had told as a parameter of being brought into the Verata dynasty, and Marcus, as the two of them shared a link with the Goblin's clan. Any other time he would have deflected the question, using a quip or a vague line to redirect the conversion. However he was still tired and shell-shocked from his second near-death experience. Maybe that was the reason he decided to talk about it now...

"That was bad business, they shouldn't have deployed so close together, and we all should have been alert to ambushes instead of chatting and arguing. In hindsight everything seems so easy to fix, but you live with the consequences and try to make the next time better. I know it sounds callous but believe me when I say that they died well, compared to the fates of others I've seen perish to the ruinous powers"
He shook his head as he remembered his visions of that damned cruiser. "I've boarded a Chaos vessel once in my life, we attempted to storm and slaughter them... and it went to hell quicker than our encounter did. I had to see men falter, bloat and die screaming as they perished and fell apart to plagues and horrifying disease. I've watched comrades be impaled by crab-daemons and had to fall back as they were flayed to death, their screams echoing through the halls. I've not seen anything like that Hullghast we fought, but I've seen other things just as bad"
He looked up at Scythia, his gaze focused and hard, "Chaos is a true scourge on the galaxy, I've seen what they can do and I know what happens to those that follow it. The price we paid to kill that thing was high, but I would have gladly given an arm, a leg and a hundred other armsmen if I knew we were erasing that stain from the cosmos"

[Inspector Valin]

"That's a task for the Emperor, Cort. We just get the Dark Gods' leftovers."

Scy's eyes had grown just a touch wider at Cort's anecdote. She'd rarely before pictured Cort in that context, leading boarding actions, fighting like a Navyman. Yet, it was his job as First Officer after all. And his words suggested previous experiance of some kind. A seconded Guard regiment, perhaps? Shaking her head in dismissal of this line of thought, Scythia decided to reciprocate, closing her eyes and chuckling darkly to herself. "That was my first serious hand to hand fight. I've had a couple of honour duels, kept Navy mandated Firearms Training hours, but my old ship never got boarded. No raider group was ever bold enough to try. All the action happened out in the void. I just got to watch, and load the canons occasionally"

There had been risk to it of course; one misplaced enemy shell could've claimed her life. But the risk had always seemed remote, distant, unimportant. A job for Dirt-Pounders. Scy's recent experience with warfare was making her appreciate that viewpoint still further. Looking down to Cort, the Helmswoman chuckled slightly. "Guess by rights, this should be the other way around, shouldn't it?. I should've ended up in the bed for doing something stupid and foolish, you standing over me, talking about how I need to be less reckless, learn self discipline or something?"

[Glarx]

"That's... an interesting, and somewhat concerning, statement. We've had an infestation of unsanctioned psykers breeding in our hull, fighting off mutants instead of telling anyone about it, and in the process they left us vulnerable in the event they all happened to die -- which they did. But I suppose you don't want me to contact the Blackships and have her brought to the Adeptus Astra Telepathica?" Chelsea moved over to the chair, settling in it and crossing her legs.

"Was the hullghast a daemon?"

[Toxic Mind]

Marcus intertwines his hands. "Captain, I have been on the black ships. That fate is not one I would wish on any creature. The fact that I sit before you now, and was not sacrificed to provide one tiny micron of power, seemed to be little more than chance. There were psykers on that voyage much more powerful, and much weaker, than I who fed the fires." Marcus bows his head. "It is a risk to keep her aboard, but it is a nominal one. She understands enough of the warp to avoid using her power without the gravest of need. In time, she could become an asset, a boon to myself and to the crew." Marcus does not say the words, but they need not be spoken. She could also be a danger.

Marcus points to the glowing mark on his forehead. "The Mark of Sanctioning" he says, answer to an unasked question. A gift from the Emperor, his Mark upon my person showing that I have been proven before the terrors of the Warp and not found wanting. "It will not always be so obvious, but always there. That knowledge, that right, could be passed down to Astra."

Marcus leans back, and ponders for a moment. "No. Whatever that monstrosity was, it was not a daemon. Possessed? Most assuredly. Though I think that is more along the lines of what you ask. That 'thing' was still a Hullghast, somewhere. I can almost be sure that it was sensitive to the warp. During the storm, that Hullghast called out for power,for blood, and a daemon answered. That Daemon possessed its' body and lead to what you saw. When we destroyed the Hullghast, we banished the Daemon, but did not kill it." Marcus leans forward again, and his face becomes very serious. "I do not think this Daemon was the same that controlled the Warp-Storm. That beast is likely still very functional, and very angry."

[Glarx]

"You chastised me for a perceived lapse of religious observance while we fought in the bilge, Marcus. And now you're asking me to break one of the most oft-repeated lines of the liturgy -- you want me to allow a witch to remain on my ship. How can you do that to me? How can you put me in a position where I must choose between my Emperor and my astropath? Do you find my concerns to be so absurd that they don't merit consideration?"

[Toxic Mind]

"Share with me your concerns, then. If I cannot put them to rest, then she will be disposed of."

"I chastised you for what your words implied, that the men who died for us were worthless, that we would have been better served by mindless machines. I cannot believe that." Marcus sighs heavily. "I care so very little about the religious aspect, beyond what it offers to the crew. I understand that it is our strength of will, our courage, that holds the darkness at bay. The Emperor is our beacon, but He does not reach out his hand and touch our lives. He holds the Daemon's in the Warp, and asks us to pick up what slips through." Marcus' smile is a sad one. "The God-Emperor gives strength of faith to the men, that they are watched over by a higher power. The Emperor gives me strength of mind and power, so that I may watch over them."

[Glarx]

"She could be taken over by a daemon -- she could already be a host to one. She could betray you while you're linked to the Warp. If she's so powerful, perhaps she was able to hide something from you. Do you think we should suffer the witch to live? Do you think we should break a law of the Ecclesiarchy and the Imperium of Man? These aren't rhetorical questions -- I'm honestly curious if you think this girl's life is worth betraying the Emperor for."

[Toxic Mind]

"I answer your question with another question. Why did you allow me on your ship? I could be host to a daemon. I could hide things from you, and you would never know."

"But I know such rhetoric holds little sway, so I will answer fairly. She could no more hide the taint of the warp, or a daemon within her, than one of my own apprentices could. I scour their minds for just such taint, travelling to the deepest recesses of their psyche, to where they are nothing before me, to where their minds could be snapped like a twig in the Arboretum. That is what I am. Before me, their lives are laid bare." Marcus exhales, slowly.

"Why should my sparing of her life betray the Emperor? She can serve His design, or fall to his enemies, the same as I. Since my journey on the Black Ships, I have believed that the Ecclesiarchy has strayed from the Emperor's truth. He is the father of all mankind in the universe, our protector, and our light. If he is our father, then does he not love all his children, and gift us with the ability to serve him? If my power is not a gift to serve the Emperor, than I am not his son, and the greatest gift I could give this universe would be to end my existence. I cannot believe that. Do you?"

[Rising Chaos]

At Scythia's mention of discipline Cort let out a mirthful laugh, then immediately winced as the side of his chest flared in painful protest. Coughing he shook his head "Trust me Lady Wake, if I'm ever the one chastising you for lack of discipline or reckless behavior I give you full permission to throttle me". He gestured to his kitbag, where his headband and gang-belt lay hanging out on the table. "Much as I try to better myself I'm still a ganger at heart. That path thrives in reckless combat and foolish gambits, did you know I only learned what value cover provided at the age of 17? Five years of standing in the street firing stub rounds and praying that the Emperor decided one of the oncoming bullets didn't have my name on it. It's a fun but quick and messy way to live my Lady"

He sighed, balancing the darkness of the his last anecdote with the youth and gusto of this one. "You did good today, you didn't break, and you fought with wrath that would put any hammer to shame" he said with a grin, not realizing that Scythia might not know the term for ganger muscle. "Ground work is messy, and it's brutal but it's put more fire in my belly than watching any ship duel ever has. I joined this crew primarily because I liked the Lady Captain's gusto, but it's good to know the rest of the crew is just as honorable as her"

[Inspector Valin]

"Likewise, Seneschal. On both counts."

Scy's grin faded a bit, her smile quieter but just as sincere. Cort was... more than she'd thought. Perhaps there was more of a distinction between ganger and full blown pirate? Gangers were a phenomena Scythia still honestly didn't understand, beyond 'disreputable people you should probably shoot'. Still, Cort was better than that. Concerned about the men, able to admit his own mistakes... he was a good man in his way, beyond what his origin or manner could sometimes suggest.

Her mind made up, Wake stepped forward, towards Cort's bed, grinning a rueful grin. "I don't know if you're supposed to have this, but..." From the folds of her coat, the Void-Master withdrew a darkened bottle; one which habitually graced her own desk. She set it down on the table beside Cort with a wink and a chuckle. "Well, Marcus won't drink with me, Novem can't drink with me, and the Captain likely has better stuff. Same with Lady Modor. That leaves you, Mr Zollin, as the only other person around here who might appreciate some Amasec. And we just won a battle. Someone needs to drink to that."

Gift given, and still grinning wide, Scythia turned around, moving towards the door whilst commenting sardonically. "And now I'd best be gone, before the Enginseer decides I'd be better as another Murder-Servitor for bringing you that. Novem loves his toys." She raised a hand to the door-handle, but stopped short, glancing back at Cort. "I'm going to be on Footfall for a while. Hunting out a couple of things. Is there anything I can do for you whilst I'm there?"