The Haarlock Legacy [IC]

[Maugan Ra]

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Solomon, Hive Gloriana

The small shuttle hurtles through the storm-wracked skies, howling winds and driving rain buffeting it just often enough to be noticeable. The craft's reinforced fuselage is strong enough to protect you from the elements, and for that you know enough to be grateful - poisoned by millennia of heavy industry, the atmosphere of Solomon is harsh and unforgiving. In a storm like this, unprotected flesh would be melted to the bone in minutes at best.

There are four of you in the passenger compartment, sealed away from the pilot's cabin by a heavy metal door and left to your thoughts and each other's company. Each of you has been drawn from a radically different walk of life, brought together by the unknowable will of the Imperial Inquisition.

Well... perhaps not so unknowable, now. Once again, your thoughts turn to the mysterious directives that lead you to board this shuttle, the signed and sealed documents that would appear to mark your elevation from merely useful pawns to true Agents of the Inquisition.


My loyal acolytes

In the name of the God-Emperor of Mankind and by the authority of the Imperial Inquisition, you are hereby ordered to abandon whatever business or mission you are currently embarked upon and make yourselves ready for a special assignment.

The directions attached shall lead you to a shuttle pad, and the craft awaiting your arrival shall convey you to the Halls of the Chancellery Court. Upon arrival, identify yourselves to the staff and you will be brought to me, where I can brief you in person on your latest assignment.

Remember that He is watching
Inquisitor Silas Marr

The small Vox-speaker in the cabin crackles.

+Fifteen minutes until arrival.+

So, feel free to introduce yourselves, establish characters, make knowledge rolls etc. I leave it to your discretion how much shared history any of your characters have, though you have all been in service to the Inquisition for a respectable amount of time now.

[Thragka]

Ambelus sat up a little straighter at the announcement over the vox. He'd been trying to snag a bit of shut-eye on the slightly shaky flight; experience with the Inquisition taught him that the Emperor alone knew how demanding the next couple of days might be. There was only so far you could go with lho, recaf and stimm (not to mention any of the other small vials he had in his pack) - at the end of the day, nothing made up for honest sleep.

But that time had passed - he'd rested while he could, and now the mission began, so it was time to be a bit more alert. He looked around to the other acolytes, gaze stopping with the cleric. He nodded to her.

"Mother." Ambelus gave the other two a slightly shallower nod. "Gentlemen. Seems we're the squad for this op. Ambelus. Arbitrator Ambelus, if that wasn't obvious." He was, of course, in uniform. And he'd be putting on his carapace before they hit the field.

[Bootman]

Draid was grinned softly as he looked out the view port at the storm. Hive Worlds never got boring. He was waiting excitedly for the first view of the titanic buildings of a Hive World. One thing he'd always regretted about his capture was that he had been knocked out, so he hadn't gotten the chance for a birds eye view. The gladiator at his side through his brand new set of clothes. They looked like something an adventurous noble would wear on a night out (except for a chain wrapped around his waist like belt), which didn't fit the gruff soldier at all.

Without warning, he turned his head away from the view-port and glanced around the room. A Techpriest. Didn't look like one of those Enginseers that always chastised him for 'improper' use of vehicles. Some girl in robes that looked like she'd break in half if he blew too hard on her. And... an Arbite. This was not going to be a fun mission. The Arbite, Ambelus greeted him.The name sounded familiar, but Draid discarded that thought quickly.

"Hello there, Arbite. Names' Draid. Guardsman Draid, if you feel like being ironic." He let out a cackled, smiled a bit bigger and reached into his pocket, only to bring out a small cigar. He started patting down his sides to find something to light it with. Every few seconds he would look out the window again to see if the storm had broke.

[Thragka]

Ambelus narrowed his eyes. That name ... stirred something in his memory. And the accent was immediately familiar.

"Draid ..." he said, sampling the name on his tongue. "You a Volg boy?" he asked, switching to the dialect of home, a form of Low Gothic he rarely used these days.

[Bootman]

The guardsman stopped looked and raised an eyebrow when he heard his old dialect, but quickly resumed. "Yeah. Born so low I might as well have been underground. Where were you in the Hive? You don't look like one of those fancy nobles who got to live above the smog."

He responded in the same dialect. It felt good to use after all this time. He chuckled to himself and finally found his lighter. Once the cigar was lit, Draid wasted no time in putting it into the corner of his mouth.

[Thragka]

Ambelus gave a nod of respect. "Acheron Spire," he volunteered. "Near the bottom." He looked as if he were about to say something else, but then just shrugged. "Far away and long ago."

The Arbitrator turned his attention back to the other two acolytes. "Sorry," he said in standard Low Gothic. "Don't often hear the old argot."

[Destro_Yersul]

Clarus Greeble would have been a slight man, if 'man' still applied, but you couldn't have told it by looking at him. The techpriest sat hunched over in the shuttle, mechadendrites twitching like the limbs of an enormous spider. He seemed to have a significant collection of the things - apart from the more common clamp-like manipulators and tool-encrusted utility pieces were a paired set with a plasma cutter and fyceline torch, the pilot light as yet unlit, alongside another pair of segmented metal tendrils with heavy anchoring claws on the ends. These in themselves took up a significant metal room, and Clarus had further added to his artificial bulk with the heavy forge-shroud he wore, its dull exterior marked with the sigil of the Adeptus Mechanicus. He peered at the others from under a pair of blank black lenses, assessing their capabilities. Clarus found it best to know who to hide behind when the shooting started.

The Arbitrator, and the Guardsman - clearly from the same world, judging by their shared dialect. Big and tough-looking for both of them. The guardsman appeared to have some sort of injector rig. Clarus would have to find out what was stored in it. The cleric - thin, and austere. Clarus shared a lack of fondness for the Ecclesiarchy with many of his own order, so working with her might prove to be difficult, especially if she was an Ecclesiarch of the Fire and Brimstone variety. It was not good to jump to conclusions, though. Conclusions must be arrived at through knowledge and the application of careful reasoning.

"I am Techpriest Greeble. Or Clarus, if you prefer to avoid formality," here, the lenses turned towards Guardsman Draid, lingering for an uncomfortable moment. Clarus' voice was mechanical, a metallic rasp that issued from a voxcoder, but it was not yet entirely without emotion. Clarus liked formalities. "Inquisitor Marr is likely to have something special in mind, if he is meeting us personally."

[Kai927]

Regia looks at each of her companions in the shuttle with her, a pair of Volg Hivers and a...Tech Priest. She looked him up and down, inwardly disgusted at his appearance, but externally calm. If the Emperor tolerates them, so should she, but that does not mean she has to like it. "Greetings Ambelus, Draid and Clarus," she gives a shallow nod to each of them in turn. "I am Cleric Regia, but if we are to be working together, formalities may be dropped to ensure the success of whatever task we are working on achieving. Outside of whatever assignments we are working on, well, it is only proper that I stand by the formalities and trust that you do the same."

"Indeed, the task he has for us must be important. May the Emperor protect us and keep us always in his sight."

[Maugan Ra]

As promised, fifteen minutes later the shuttle decelerates and comes in for a smooth, controlled landing on a small pad that hangs over the edge of a large metal canyon, supported by a series of worryingly flimsy-looking support struts. The door to the passenger bay slides open, and the harsh chemical stink of Solomon's air assaults your senses.

A hundred metres away or so lies your destination, the Halls of the Chancellery Court. It is a truly gargantuan structure, fully a kilometre or more wide and so tall that the dirty brown and yellow clouds flow around it's upper levels. Like most Imperial architecture, the design tends towards the baroque and gothic, encrusted with crenellations and flying buttresses and carved from large slabs of volcanic basalt. The only illumination comes from a number of stab-lights that cast vaguely green-tinted light across the building's face, highlighting the massive bronze clock that dominates the entire facade.

You begin to understand why Inquisitor Marr chose this place to meet. Without a guide or precise instructions, finding anyone inside that monolithic construction could take days...

[Bootman]

"No joke?" Draid chuckled through a puff of smoke. "I'm Acheron too." The gladiator was pleasantly amused at the coincidence. The others had started speaking, but he didn't turn his head to address them.

The Tech Priest seemed nice enough. Less stiff then the Cleric, for whatever that was worth. After taking another moment to enjoy his cigar and check the viewport, he addressed the mechanical man. "I wouldn't be too sure about that, Greeble. These inquisitors... you never know what they're up to. You might be on their mission because they need your skills, or you might be along 'just in case'. You better hope he doesn't need my skills."

Draid let out a choking noise with Regia spoke, and his face looked like he had just been forced to swallow something sour. The gladiator refocused his attention on the storm outside. His eyes lit up when that was NOT the sight that greeted him. He was overlooking the vast city, stretching as far as the eye could see. That was pretty satisfying, he had to admit.

As he stepped out of the craft, he leaned over the edge of landing pad and whistled at the canyon. "Ah. No place does humanity quite like a Hive World." He punctuated his sentence by flicking his cigar down the chasm and watching the light until it vanished. When he turned around and was greeted by the massive, Gothic structure, all he could do for a moment was chuckle before advancing implacably towards it. "See?" He said to nobody in particular.

[Thragka]

Ambelus frowned at the 'coincidence' - of course, a good detective didn't believe in coincidence. He filed it away in his mind as something to look into later. The obvious theory was that Inquisitor Marr was aware of their shared home, and had put them together for cell cohesion. Still, something about the guardsman made Ambelus uncomfortable, and he couldn't quite work out why the man's name was niggling at him.

When they stepped out, the arbitrator raised an eyebrow at Draid's statement. "No place, indeed." That's one attitude to take. Ambelus couldn't say that his experience with Hives gave him much optimism about human nature. But none of us get out of Volg without a slightly warped attitude.

He walked towards the Chancellery Court, almost at a march, eager to spend as little time in the storm as possible.

[Destro_Yersul]

"For your skills or just in case, the majority of times that I have met an Inquisitor in person, it was because they wanted something important." Clarus said, unfolding himself from his seat as the shuttle came to a stop. "The actions of anyone can be predicted with reasonable certainty, given enough data."

Rain splattered off his heavy shroud as he stepped out of the shuttle, the black-tinted lenses raising to look at the sky. Clarus was glad he'd brought the armour. It would offer good protection from Solomon's environment, even if that wasn't what it had been designed for, exactly. Still, he should get inside. Too much rain could corrode his exposed augmetics, and allowing that to happen would be an affront to the Omnissiah.

Clanking as he walked, Clarus followed the Arbitrator at a more sedate pace.

[Kai927]

Regia arches a brow at Draid's sudden fit, but refrains from saying anything. Upon landing and exiting the shuttle, she takes a look around, taking in the scenery. She didn't like it. Walking planetside just never felt right after spending most of her life on an orbital station. Planets didn't have the right sounds or feel to them. It all felt unnatural. Especially the rain. Of course, none of this discomfort broke through her mask of cool composure. As the arbiter began walking towards the Chancellory Court, she started off as well, eager to get out of this infernal rain.

[Maugan Ra]

Walking up the long flight of steps and passing through the massive doorway at the top, you find yourselves within what can only be described as a warren. Hundreds, perhaps even thousands of blank-faced adepts in dark grey robes hurry to and fro on official business, flowing through narrow corridors and ducking into the many small offices and archive chambers that branch off from the thoroughfares.

At every intersection stands a guard in thick carapace armour, watching the endless stream of civilians passing by through the grills of their stylized helms. The only dash of colour comes from the odd visitor such as yourselves, mostly Guildsman and off-world traders engaged in low conversation with their fellows or whichever adept they came here to visit.

The sound of hundreds of voices echoes throughout the building, washing over you in a steady wave, and in the face of such distraction it takes a moment to realise that one sour-faced adept is actually addressing you.

"State your names and business."

[Thragka]

To begin with, Ambelus was a little overwhelmed. His instinct was to try to size the place up, grab what info he could from snatches of overheard conversations, keep an eye out for interesting characters ... but the scale of the building was just so vast that the pandemonium flummoxed him. It was something of a relief when the adept addressed him, dragging his attention back to the immediate vicinity.

"Mother Regia, Techpriest Greeble, Guardsman Draid, and Arbitrator Ambelus. We are here at the order of Inquisitor Silas Marr."

[Maugan Ra]

That last name draws a raised eyebrow, and then the adept nods. "We have been expecting you. Follow me."

With that, he turns and strides off, weaving through the crowds with the aid of long experience and apparently uncaring of how easy it is to keep up. Over the course of approximately ten minutes you are led through numerous corridors, up ramps and down staircases, tracing a winding path that you would have significant difficult in recalling later. Eventually, you reach a small room, externally identical to any of the others. The Adept pushes open the door and enters without a word.

Inside is what appears to be a small library, with comfortable leather seats and row upon row of books stacked neatly around the perimeter. There are no windows, and you couldn't even begin to guess where you are in relation to the entrance - which, you suspect, is part of the point.

"Wait here. The Inquisitor will be along shortly." The adept says simply, before turning and departing with little fanfare, rapidly disappearing into the endless streams of his fellow bureaucrats.

[Destro_Yersul]

Clarus lost precisely no time in scanning the books, looking for interesting titles. Even if he found nothing, it would be a pleasant diversion while they waited for the inquisitor. His optical mechadendrite extended, swivelling around to peer at a seperate stack from the one Clarus was engaged with. Part of it was simple curiosity, and part of it was that if they knew what the Inquisitor had been reading, they might have some clue as to the avenue of investigation.

Need a check for this?

[Thragka]

Ambelus took up a position begin one of the leather chairs, but remained standing to attention. Marr could turn up at any minute, and the arbitrator wanted to show the Inquisitor due respect. He did, however, let his eyes wander across the library. The books didn't interest him that much, but he would give a cursory glance over any notes or files left on desks - a policeman's habit that died hard. There was a twinge of guilt that he was sniffing at clues that might have been left by a superior, as much as he doubted the Inquisitor would be so careless, and as sure as he was that the acolytes would be told what they Needed To Know in short order, but what could he do? Marr, apparently, wanted a detective; and a detective he had got.

[Kai927]

Regia, glad to be out of the rain, looks about the room. She focuses much of her examinations on the books that line the walls, silently noting a few rare and 1st edition books, most of which would incredibly difficult to find in the good condition they appeared to be in.

After scanning the books, noticeably avoiding the techpriest, and judging that she was reasonable dry, she took a seat on one of the leather seats and pulls out her own copy of Litanies of Faith, well worn with use, and begins reading it again from where she had left off.

[Maugan Ra]

The books cover a surprising range of topics, from history and geography through to Ecclesiarchal theology.

There are indeed several books and stacks of notes left out on the desks. Most seem to do with the history and physical features of a particular island chain somewhere to the south, but there are also works on genealogy, and what looks like an extensive family chart - albeit with many of the names crossed out.

You recognise one of the works on the shelf, which judging by the way it sticks out slightly has been recently consulted, possibly more than once. It's a theological work, an explanation of the beliefs and practices of the Followers of the Vigilant Emperor. The Followers are a small section of the wider church, regarded as devout but potentially schismatic due to their insistent belief that the Emperor sees All... and since he sees all, there is much less need for the eye-catching spectacle of many Ecclesiarchal traditions.

Approximately five minutes after arrival, there is a faint click, and one of the bookshelves slides aside to reveal a passage cut into the wall beyond. There are two individuals standing there, and as the shelf slides aside they move forwards into the room.

The first is a hunched and wrinkled old man in dark grey robes. He walks with the aid of an ornate wooden staff, but for all his obvious physical infirmity the man's amber eyes positively burn with conviction and insight.

The second is a tall, well muscled man in a long sleeveless coat of dark leather. He carries a heavy-looking sword sheathed at his side, and his bare skin is marked with dozens of jagged black tattoos. He regards you all for a moment, but through his positioning evidently yields authority to the old man at his side. A bodyguard, perhaps.

The two of you recognise the tattoos the second man bears. They're gang markings from the lowest reaches of Volg Hive, and while neither of you recognise the individual gang affiliations they presumably represent, there is no mistaking the deed-marks. The second man is a murderer many times over.

"I am Inquisitor Silas Marr." The old man says by way of introduction, scrutinizing you all with a piercing gaze. "And I have reason to believe that you are among my best agents. I hope you do not disappoint."

[Thragka]

Ambelus snapped off a crisp salute. "Sir." He didn't acknowledge the muscle. "We'll do our best."

[Bootman]

(Sorry. Fourth of july happened and I've been running all over. I guess I'll just skip Draid along to the room)

The guardsman just leaned against a corner of the room, boredom setting in. He had gotten used to waiting though. Waiting was a big part of the Imperial Guard. But it was like being back on a Hive World had reactivated the parts of his brain that had grown dusty while in the Hell Benders. The others scurried about the room, hoping to make sense of the inquisitor's aims. Draid didn't even try. Anything he was supposed to know would be revealed soon enough.

An eternity later, the old man and his body guard entered. After Ambelus saluted, Draid did a half-hearted one just out of habit. His eyes then fell on the body guard. Draid has his arena tally marks on his back, but murder was something different. He felt a little fire dance in his chest for reasons not even he could explain.

"He'll do his best, I'll succeed." He shot Ambelus a smirk to let him know he was just teasing, but then again, Draid was always smiling.

[Maugan Ra]

Marr smiles thinly at the barb, before pressing on.

"In one week's time, an auction will be taking place that is of great interest to me and, by extension, any true servant of the Emperor." He explains, his voice low and somewhat hoarse. "It is being held at a place known as the House of Dust and Ash, a great crematoria and tomb complex set on a small volcanic island some nine hundred kilometers south of here, over the Balemire sea."

"That island is, for reasons of ancient legality, exempt from many local rules and even some of the greater laws of the Imperium, so it often acts as a gathering point for all manner of heretics and renegades. And this particular auction is liable to draw out a... finer class of scum than most. The items on display are all taken from the personal archives of the Rogue Trader Erasmus Haarlock, who left instructions that they were to be sold if no one had stepped forwards to claim his estate after a century had passed since his reported death."

"You will be my agents at the auction, gathering intelligence about those who attend it, discerning their desires and their true natures. See what rats are drawn to the stench of Haarlock's carrion feast. Unless you discover a heretic whose destruction warrants breaking your cover, or a threat too dire to ignore, you need do nothing else but be my eyes and ears."

[Destro_Yersul]

Clarus put down a book on Geography that he had been looking through when the Inquisitor entered. The muscle didn't especially concern him - it was logical for a man like Marr to take such precautions, even in the presence of allies. He would have found it more unusual if there was no bodyguard.

"Inquisitor Marr," he said, inclining his hooded head in a small nod. "What else can you tell us about the House, or about the items on offer at this auction?"

[Maugan Ra]

"The House of Dust and Ash is millennia old, though no one knows when it was originally built or by who." Marr responds, nodding to the tech-priest. "The island it sits on is a dormant volcano - the facility draws on the magma vents for geothermal power and to cremate the bodies of the dead. Of which there are a great many, since being interred there has come to be seen as a sign of status over the centuries. As for the items..."

Marr glances at the tattooed man to his left, who steps forwards. "The exact contents of the auction are officially secret until the event itself begins." He says in a smooth voice, the cultured tones not quite managing to hide the traces of a Volg accent. "The only hint is that they are described as 'wondrous objects and relics from beyond the Emperor's Sight'. Certainly, the Haarlock line has spent thousands of years journeying beyond the borders of the Imperium, and Erasmus in particular was somewhat infamous for his obsession with the alien and the occult."

He shrugs. "That said, we already have one agent there, an advocate from the Chancellery named Mayweather. Judging from his reports, there's nothing truly appalling for sale, though most are valuable and quite a few are proscribed."

Marr takes over once again. "I will be providing you with sufficient funds to bid on anything too dangerous for those outside the Ordos to obtain. Take particular note of any written materials, even if they seem innocuous - the Haarlocks have always been renowned for their love of codes and ciphers."

[Bootman]

Draid tapped on the wall behind himself a few times lightly. When he had the Inquisitor's attention, he spoke somewhat more loudly then anybody else had been.

"Who all will be attending? Any particular names we should know, or should we just assume everyone there is pitch black evil?" As he spoke, Draid took out his chain knife and tossed it a few times. After his sentence was over, the gladiator set it on the table and looked to Marr sternly, eventually being forced to avert his gaze from the older man's amber eyes.

[Destro_Yersul]

"Everyone ought to be predictable, if not an outright heretic," Clarus said. The mention of ciphers had engaged his curiosity. That was something he'd done a reasonable amount of his own research on. "I'll be certain to prioritise examination of any written objects, if offered the chance. Are we to meet Mayweather, when we arrive?"

[Thragka]

Ambelus nodded a few times as the others spoke. "No reason to break our cover, you said, sir. Is there a cover already in the works, or are we to sort that out ourselves? I doubt you want us to kick the door down in uniform."

[Maugan Ra]

"It is impossible to tell who might arrive before they do - half the reason I am sending you in to observe. That said, it is possible that some attendees will simply be collectors of exotic items, other Rogue Traders or simply rich and curious." Marr says levelly. "As for your cover, I will leave that for you to establish. The island has been used for clandestine meetings before, so no one of any consequence there will be surprised by cover identities, though some might take obvious fakes as an insult to their intelligence."

"Mayweather will likely seek you out upon arrival, if only to check in." The second man adds.

[Bootman]

He raised an eyebrow, but kept himself quiet look a good soldier for now. Seemed like one of those missions where he was there in case everything went horribly wrong. After a few minutes, he'd decided he'd had enough of playing the quiet solider and stepped forward once more.

"Do we have specific jobs, or are we just an all-purpose group to do what we think would work?"

[Maugan Ra]

"You are all, last I checked, full grown adults with a decent degree of experience." Marr says dryly. "I should hope by now you are somewhat beyond the point of needing me to walk you through an operation step by step like infants."

[Destro_Yersul]

Clarus twitched his mechadendrites, something approaching amusement just barely visible in the techpriest's body language.

"Infants," he said, are incapable of accepting more than the most basic of the Omnissiah's gifts, and nobody would trust an operation to a cherubim."

It was possible he had missed the joke entirely. Placing the book he was holding back on its pile, and then adjusting it carefully for optimal distribution of the center of gravity, he became serious again. "If that is everything, when and where do we leave?"

[Kai927]

Regia wan't overly surprised at the contents of the Inquisitor's library, though she was curious about the book, as she wasn't overly familiar with Followers of the Vigilant Emperor. Perhaps at a later point she could get her hands on a copy.

When Inquisitor Mar and his companion enter, Regia stands up from her seat and silently listens to Inquisitor Mar's instructions, evaluating and processing them internally. The undercover part was clearly going to be the most difficult, especially for that tech-priest, and wondered a bit over how they would pull it off.

"Is there anything else we should know before we head to this auction?"

[Maugan Ra]

"Resources." Marr says simply. At that, the second man reaches into his pockets and produces a number of small items.

The first is a single, pitch black data-uplink device. "This connects you to an anonymous credit account, for use in the auction. There are currently one million imperial credits held there, and the account has sufficient prestige that you can likely pledge more if absolutely required with some chance of it being granted. Try to avoid this if you can, since mustering a significant amount of traceless funds does take some time and effort." he explains, handing the device to whoever first reaches for it.

Next are four smaller credit sticks, distributed one apiece. "Your operational budgets. One thousand thrones each. Use it for equipment, bribes, that sort of thing."

Finally, a set of ornate tickets. "Passage to the House has been booked for you aboard the skyship Cygnan Martyr. It's a fairly luxurious craft, as befitting the status of anyone with the right status to attend the auction."

"You will not be alone on the Martyr. Others have likewise arranged passage." Marr interjects. "Neither the captain nor your fellow passengers should be allowed to discover your affiliations if at all possible, though the voyage will make a good time to begin subtle enquiries."

[Thragka]

Ambelus accepted the large credit stick - perhaps moving a little too quickly not to seem eager to have it. He slipped it into a pocket, his face carefully blank.

"When does the Cygnan Martyr leave?"

[Maugan Ra]

"Two days. This operation is more hurried than I would normally prefer, but it was not we who set the time for the auction."

No need to roleplay out everything that happens in those days, just provide a summary of any research or purchases you are making.

[Destro_Yersul]

"Two days is adequate for my needs." Clarus accepted one of the credsticks. He couldn't think of anything he needed immediately, but there might be something come up. His place was mostly in the librarium. "I am going to do some research."

Okay, so... LORE CHECKS

[roll0] Scholastic Lore (Cryptology) to see if he knows anything about Haarlock ciphers
[roll1][roll2] Common Lore (Tech) and Forbidden Lore (archeotech) to see if he knows anything about the systems of the House of Dust and Ash
[roll3] Scholastic Lore (numerology) just in case Math is relevant in some way.

All vs 55.

Once those are done, Clarus spends the next two days reading anything he can find on the House. Do you want a roll of some sort for that?

[Thragka]

"That should be plenty of time to prep for this op, sir."

Ambelus's main concern is to pick up some clothes that don't immediately identify him as an Arbitrator. A (good quality) bodyglove maybe, something sensible and sombre and a little stylish as befitting the lackey of someone invited to this exclusive auction. If possible, he'd like to visit an armourer as well and maybe just remove any incriminating insignia from his carapace armour, or make it look secondhand.

He'll also rack his brains just in case he knows something about the House of Dust and Ash - Common Knowledge (Underworld) against Int 40: [roll0]

EDIT: Oh, and as mentioned in recruitment, can I take this opportunity to buy a small charm, an Aquila pendant or something?

[Bootman]

Draid would silently leave the room after being mocked, deciding to see the city a bit. He'd end up spending 100 thrones off of the credit chip on food, drink and less legal substances. Being the driver her was, the guardsman made an effort to see if this Hive had any good races he could get in on as well.

[Maugan Ra]

- The Haarlock family used a wide variety of cyphers and coding systems, but they were known to be particularly fond of methods that relied on symbolism and vocal tricks. At least one of their old territories was known to require a precisely enunciated ritual prayer to access.

- Research, combined with your own knowledge, produces a surprising wealth of information about the House of Dust and Ash. The Geothermal power plant that sustains the island is known to be a particularly advanced example of it's kind, to the point where it could reasonably expect to sustain a capital-scale void shield almost indefinitely without draining power from the rest of the facility. Several of those interred within the crypts are also known to have installed potent security systems to guard their mortal remains... and the treasures that they wished to take with them.


Alternate clothing is easily obtainable. Pay... say 100 credits and you can have virtually whatever kind of relatively sensible clothing you want, in several different colours. Disguising the carapace is also easily done.

Make an Inquiry test if you are looking for weapons or armour.

- Ambelus recalls that the island's exemption from legal scrutiny has made it a favourite stopping point of renegades and smugglers over the years. There is known to be a small township on the island, charmingly named 'Deadtown', which typically plays host to numerous shady individuals at any one time.

It is also known that while several attempts have been made to steal some of the artefacts from the catacombs, none have ever succeeded... or left survivors.