Dark Heresy: Ratcatchers (Chapter 3: Alpha Cell)

[bluntpencil]

It was considered wise not to meet up with the Captain on the planet's surface. Instead, Captain Britanov ordered you all to attend a briefing on the Orbital Supply Depot "Demeter", high above Hive Magnagorsk.

Here, Battlefleet Calxis conduct repairs and resupply their vessels. Thousands of people move to and from here and Fenksworld below. This should, at least, allow you some sort of cover story.

The office you are to meet up at is unremarkable, signposted only with a number, #968. When you step inside, the only thing of note is that it does, in fact, have a window, viewing the Hives below.

The Captain sits in a pall of yellowish smoke, still armoured, his helm on the desk in front of him.

"Aight, in ye get."

There are no seats for his subordinates, largely due to a lack of room. The walls are covered in documents and papers, pinned up carefully, following some sort of plan. The writing and print is all in High Gothic, accompanied by lots of statistics and figures.

"Welcome ta Fenksworld, home o' yer illustrious Cap'n..."

The Captain stands, gesturing at the planet below.

"...or should I say... 'Interrogator'?"

He had been promoted, apparently. Captain Alexei Britanov was now Interrogator Alexei Britanov.

"Anyway, yer here fer a reason."

He opens the drawer at his desk, and retrieves a number of brown, card folders, unmarked entirely. He passes them round, everyone getting one.

"Open 'em up."

Inside, are various sheets of paper, printed with the details of your mission, it seems. The name of your mission is OPERATION: VICAR, according to the foremost sheet.

"Ye'll remember those vids that Yarach an' Rochelle toasted below Ten Hive Spire on Malfi, aye? We've gathered tha leads together from our sources, followed up on things, an' located where they were filmed."

He points, at one of the Hive cities outside the window. It's mostly just smog, with a few silver spires sticking out, but it's there.

"Nova Castilia. That's where ye're goin'. Ye'll be findin' a way inta 'Smiling Drusus Production Studios', ta root out those who're responsible fer those frakkin' daemon-summonin' instruction vids. Yer files have tha details on who's who in tha studio."

He stubs out his cigar in an ashtray, which you can almost feel. He's like that. Everything seems to jar, to throw off your sensibilities. Only Yarach, with his machine parts, doesn't feel a little queasy when he does this. Marcus, completely shut off from the Warp, feels horrific, as if he's been blinded and deafened - the surface thoughts of the others have been utterly silenced. Then again, he could make an educated guess at most of them, considering their facial expressions.

"I won't be comin' with ya. I've other business ta deal with... an' I'm more than a wee bit well-known down there. Don't waste my Throne-damned time with anythin' other than a coven o' witch-psykers or a frakkin' full blown Daemonic whatsit.

That means Captain Yarach is in charge, wi' probably dipsh*t Hive Prince as his Lieutenant. Cog-Boy's call on that 'un.

If ye've any questions, hurry up. I've other idiots ta see ta."

[Urist]

The orbital supply depots orbiting Fenksworld are not, to the average citizen of the Imperium, a beautiful sight. Intimidating, yes; awe inspiring, absolutely; necessary, of course. But not beautiful. Captain Yarach, however, was not the average citizen, and the view of the Depot and the hives, full of their teeming throngs of humanity working towards the Imperium's glory, set a fire of worship in his heart. As he steps into the office, he rapidly flashes the sign of the Aquilla and the Cogwheel to Alexei, moving to stand at ease in the center of the room.

Seeing Unit:Alexei again produces feeling:happiness. Unit:Alexei may not be enlightened in the Omnissiah's mysteries, but this unit is still pleased to see him.

Dressed in a nondescript tailored suit, Yarach has chosen to forgo the Tech-Priest robes which are his signature, the only indication of his allegiance remaining in the small cogwheel-and-skull cufflinks on his sleeves. The old respirator covering his face is gone, replaced with a gilded mesh contraption partialy exposed at his throat. The rest of his body is bulky, clearly augmented in some manner, but with his utility mechadendrite wrapped around his waist, no other overt signs of augmentation remain. An ornate walking stick capped with the same cogwheel symbol completes his ensemble, with the rest of his gear stowed in the large black trunk at his feet.


"This unit...Excuse me, I am pleased to see you, Interrogator. This cell stands ready at your command. Do we have permission to engage any heretics we find? Or are we merely to expose them and report back?"


With his question answered, Yarach waits for any questions from his cell. If none are raised, he salutes the Captain again, and orders his apparent second-in-command, Commander Argentius, to sheperd the acolytes to the waiting drop-ship. He hesitates, briefly, on his way out, and turns around.


"This unit is pleased to see this one again, Captain. These ones will not let you down." If the Interrogator seems amenable, Yarach will offer his hand to shake, briefly, before moving out with the remainder of his squad.

[bluntpencil]

"This unit's happy ta see you too, Yarach," says the Interrogator with a, quite frankly, terrifying grin.

"Ye're ta use yer initiative on engagement. Primary objective is ta find out how far up this rot goes, aye? By all means, if ye can kill all of 'em what are responsible, yer damn right ye're ta do it. If this links ta offworld or whatever, an' a purge will only alert 'em, save yer ammo fer later."

When Yarach offers him his hand to shake, his head tilts slightly, and he waits for a moment, before shaking Yarach's hand, with his usual, horrible, smile.

It feels... strange. Yarach knows, with a 99.7% chance of accuracy, that this would be most unpleasant if he was made of only weak flesh.

"Aye, make sure ye don't let me down."

[DaedalusMkV]

Draco sits silently through the briefing, composed and collected as he listen's to the Interrogator's orders and flips through the briefing material, though he does wince almost imperceptibly at Alexei's description of him. Sometimes, I regret joining with the Inquisition... Normally, I would be able to inflict punishment for such an insult. Ah, well, such is the cost of power. He thinks to himself. When Alexei dismisses the cell and Yarach gives him the order to get moving, he nods respectfully and stands up, one hand coming to rest automatically on the pommel of his sword. "We will not fail, Interrogator. However far this corruption runs... All will taste the Emperor's justice." Gesturing to the rest to follow, he moves slowly out of the room, back straight and angular features held in a distinguished mask. It wouldn't do to have the common labourers of the supply station see him at anything less than his regal best, immaculate uniform and features straight out of a patriotic war pict. Keeping up morale requires so much more than speeches, after all. It's about appearances, more than anything.

"Filthy heretics." He sniffs disdainfully, continuing his slow march to the destination. "Using Imperial resources to propagate their unclean rites. I'll enjoy seeing the lot of them executed for this."

[Strawberries]

Marcus had remained standing near the door, as far away from Alexei as possible, breathing deeply and steadily in a pattern that is obviously a relaxation technique (and one that Sarah would quite possibly recognise, at that). Compared to almost a year ago, when he had first met the Blank, he's faring way better: at least now that he knows what to expect he's not in danger to throw up any time soon. He moves forward to take the proffered dossier, then quickly retreats again, trying to minimise the time in Alexei's close proximity.

He takes less than a minute to read the document and memorise the salient parts: Marcus has always been a fast reader. "No, sir" he simply replies, when asked if he's got questions. He moves to follow Yarach and Draco quickly enough, glad to be away from the Interrogator.

[ellna]

As Sarah reached for the door to Office 968, she itched. She resisted the urge to adjust her attire, it wasn't the problem. The naval uniform she wore was an almost perfect fit and the synskin concealed beneath hugged her flesh like luxuriant silk. No, the fiery, crawling sensation had only one cause. Britanov. She suppressed a growl and stepped inside.

She had chosen to wear the uniform of a naval dispatcher. A messenger. No-one ever seemed to notice them, only the message they bore. She had briefly entertained a false rank and undeserved medals, if only to annoy Draco. Seeing him now clad still in his full regale irked her, but she bit back an acidic remark and flicked through the briefing notes. She didn't wish to stay in this cramped room with Alexei any longer than was required. The view out over the planet tugged at her attention, a horrible feeling of vertigo arose.

Sarah pulled a data slate from her dispatches case, another prop. If anyone asked to look inside they would be surprised to find Amadeus snugly nestled and partially dismantled and even more surprised when their brain suddenly dispersed itself across a nearby wall. She then pulled out her bionic eye, the baleful red orb easily connecting to a special port on the data slate. Picts of the briefing quickly downloaded onto the dataslate and she threw the papers back onto the Cap... Interrogator's desk. The bionic eye had flared up, like a miniature sun in his presence. Memories of searing pain were pushed deeper. The synthskin and plasteel imitating her face didn't move, however if anyone inspected the login her eye they'd find something suspiciously resembling ballistics calculations.

She replaced her eye and took care in covering it's hot red glow with a special green lens mimicking her natural eye's colouration. She left the room following Yarach, happy to be gone from the unnatural presence of her boss. As they walked she offered him her data-slate, a few notes highlighted from the dossier they had just read.


Susanna Jullietta, Sergei Riefenstahl, Robert Scullio, Maria Florin.

Sergei Rienfenstahl, possible source of information, debts make pliable. May know who wrote the drama?


http://fc07.deviantart.net/fs71/i/2010/180/b/7/Illiom_by_Klausmasterflex.jpg (http://nicholaskay.deviantart.com/art/Illiom-169445879)
Sarah's Disguise.

http://fembotwiki.com/images/thumb/a/a4/1019x1600_7445_Kaa_2d_sci_fi_portrait_female_girl_ woman_cyborg_cyberpunk_picture_image_digital_art.j pg/382px-1019x1600_7445_Kaa_2d_sci_fi_portrait_female_girl_ woman_cyborg_cyberpunk_picture_image_digital_art.j pg
Sarah's new look.

[Miraqariftsky]

"Ser!" Rochelle had said on entering Office 968, combat boots clanging on the deck as she snapped a palm-thumbed salute. Clad in a battered and oft-mended Guard-issue greatcoat over a set of scarred carapace. For now, only two of the Metallican's guns are seen, both of them awarded as commendations of merit--- the hint of a fine pistol-butt from a holster at her right thigh and a shouldered matt-black lascarbine. At her left is a leather bag marked with the Aquila, containing her suite of medical supplies. "Reportin' fer duty."

The cell's resident dedicated medic and Guard Vet stands either at attention or at parade rest for the majority of the meeting, only having moved when ordered to take the briefing slate or brief peripheral glances at her comrades every so often...

A smile that swiftly dissolves into an inexplicable shudder at their recently promoted commanders, recognizing and relishing such a fire-forged bond as they clearly have. A brief smirk and a respectful frown, easily concealed by the high lip of her cuirass and coat, from her underhive roots at proudly serving shoulder to shoulder with a princeling. A concerned twitch of the brow and resigned snort at the resident spook--- such, such a well-oiled, well-holstered weapon. An almost imperceptible nod of acknowledgment and appreciation at how much Sarah had improved, over the scant year-and-a-bit that Rochelle had known the Malfian bounty hunter.

Reading through the slate, Rochelle had to suppress a crap-eating grin at her hometown having been named, and wonders if they might meet any of her juvie blockmates and fellow stubjacks from Tholl's bosom.

As the others turn to leave, she asks their boss, "Sir. Wot've we got fer bunk, bread an' wheels? Already assigned? To be procured? Or... well, Nova Castilia's the uphive of Fenk, right? That kinda cuts into the 'Just make a hole' option...?"

On hearing Argentius' words, Rochelle palms her thumb and says, "As do we all, sir. But. Gettin' there. Do we got a plan?"

[bluntpencil]

Alexei responds to questions about transport, accommodation and the like with a short answer,

"Sort it out yerselves. I've no idea what yer cover story is gonna be, so no point doin' it for ya."

That being said, though, you all did notice that there are a lot of ships going to and from the planet below, largely moving starship parts and fuel up from Hive Magnagorsk. There is a huge variety of people on the station, all related to the maintenance of the Battlefleet Calixis' warships, although not all appear to be Naval personnel.

On leaving the office, a Naval Ensign bundles into Commander Argentius, dropping a stack of papers onto the deck at their feet, and causing Argentius' dossier to drop to the floor, too. She coughs and splutters, stuttering an apology as she tries to gather up her files,

"Sh-sh-shorry, sh-shi-s-sssir..."

Argentius, being all too close to her, can smell the reek of the industrial-strength Gorsk White Gyn she's obviously been drinking.


You recognise this Naval Officer. She's no Naval Ensign at all. Before you stands one Interrogator Salanan... as drunk as every time you've ever seen her (Yarach has met her on several occasions, at briefings and similar; Sarah has met her just the once.).

[Urist]

Yarach's lip curls slightly, a strong indication of disgust from the normally quite stoic Secutor. The Interrogator was certainly a familiar face at this juncture, and the state she was in all too familiar. Briefly, Yarach pondered why the Inquisition bothered to keep such a disgusting deadbeat drunk, a wreck of a human being, at the illustrious rank of Interrogator. Of course, this process was redundant, having been executed every time Yarach had seen her, and so he quickly cancelled it and began to gingerly move his way around her. As her eyes meet his, he speaks, his voice betraying little of the disdain in his mind.


"Ah, Salanan. It's been a fair bit of time! My apologies for interrupting your no doubt pressing work. I'd ask you to join me for a drink, but these units have business elsewhere, and you seem to have started without us. Another time then?"

Moving on, Yarach quietly begins conferring with Commander Argentius about travel arrangements and covers, not pausing to look behind him to see if anyone else follows until he reaches the next corridor intersection.

[bluntpencil]

Salanan's eyes narrow slightly when her name is mentioned, her hand moving to a name emblazoned on her chest, reading 'Smith'.

"S-s-Saruman, Mister? I'm a-a-afraid I don't follow."


Scrutiny checks, please!

[ellna]

Sarah quickly intercepts the fallen papers, helping the Naval officer collect them. Sarah immediately notices Salanan's true identity and her seemingly instinctive assistance is merely a ploy to steal a glance at the documents. It also gives her a chance to slip the flask to Salanan, however when Yarach calls her out by name, Sarah straightens. Offering the papers she had collected, she places a battered hip flask, belonging to the interrogator, on top of the papers.

"You should take better care of you things... Smith. A drunk is in danger of losing many things, many important things."

With this she gives an impassive stare to Salanan, doubting very much she'd recognise Sarah now. She finds herself disappointed that Salanan was still in this state, partially as she had hoped the flask's return would bring something worthwhile. However she doubted Salanan's ability to be useful to her in this state. She hurried to follow Yarach, her mind already turning to the papers Salanan had carried...

[DaedalusMkV]

After a moment of surprise at being bumped into, Draco looks down at the Ensign, one eye twitching slightly. "Be more careful, soldier. A moment of laxity is all it takes to fail the Emperor. And..." Smelling the unmistakable reek of alcohol, his eyes narrow and his tone changes from rote chastisement to something cold and hostile. "Drunkenness on duty is a serious offence, Ensign... Smith. If I recall the correct passages from the Munitorum Manual, the punishment is a lashing. Be grateful I have pressing business elsewhere, or I would see to it that your commanding officer was informed of your behavior." Sniffing disdainfully, the Commander reaches down to collect his own papers. "Now be on with it, before I change my mind." Still standing in place, he glares at the woman until she moves on.

[Miraqariftsky]

Rochelle marches beside Marcus, behind most of their cell. To the young Sanctionite, the Guard Vet's ---Huh?! What the frak? Danger! Incoming hosti--- uh, drunk. Damned sot! Yer on the clock, OSSIFER. Huh! I don't give a frak that yer coata deskmonkey, what the hell kinda example're ye settin' fer yer subordinates an' those citizens mighta see ye, huh? An' ya slingin' nuff ta be confident wot yer paperin' is still wot ya really need, or didja mess THAT up, too? Wouldn't wanna be on t'other side o' yer delivery, no ma'am. mental tirade is practically palpable...

...the brief tensing of muscles and how her finger fluidly slicks off the safety on her carbine are all that manifest of her anger towards the drunken Ensign Smith. She relaxes quickly enough, when the situation defuses itself. Not her place to question.

A soft click as she flicks the safety catch back on, once the... sot... has passed out of earshot. Frowning, she asks, "Mr Lumen, did ye get anything offa her? Sir Argentius, ye checked yer dossier? The ol' bump-switch/snatch is one o' the oldest tricks in thieves' unwritten books, sir."

[ellna]

As Draco glares at the Naval ensign, Sarah speaks up eager to be away.

"Your tongue is lashing enough, come on stop Preening, Yarach isn't stopping..."

With that she continues after her mechanical superior.

"Sir Argentius, ye checked yer dossier?"

Sarah smiles inwardly, she had thoughts similar scurry through her mind. It was nice to know she wasn't the only one with a dose of healthy suspicion. Sarah listened to Marcus' next words, carefully. Feigning disinterest, as she followed in step with Yarach.

[Strawberries]

Marcus sidesteps the drunk lady, instinctively retreating and twisting so as to let her pass. Outside the room, and mercifully away from the harrowing Blank, the comforting background of murmurs and whispers had returned. Not that he had been able to pick up anything in particular. A chaotic jumbled mess from the ensign - drunk, obviously, without a shadow of a doubt - a flash of recognition from Sarah and one of disgust from the commander.

He hadn't missed Sarah's gesture, returning the flask, and he briefly wonders if it was the same one that he had returned her ('It's not mine', she had said, after all)."No, ma'am" he replies to Rochelle's question "Only that she was drunk." And it didn't really take any particular ability to notice that.

[bluntpencil]

Sarah is able to prevent the two dossiers from getting mixed up, and prevent Salanan from trying to take a peek at OPERATION: VICAR's details, assuming she was even planning on doing such.

Interrogator Salanan, a.k.a Ensign Smith, mumbles what sounds like a pathetic apology, and scurries off into Room #968, Alexei's office.


Yes, you can just hear Alexei shouting at his fellow Interrogator,

"Ye're more useless than a condom in a convent, you idiot!"


The cell are then able to make arrangements to find a place to discuss their plans for the coming mission. They have been assigned an office (although it appears to be a supply cupboard) in a quiet part of the station, Storage Unit #371.

[Urist]

Yarach glances around the little storage space, finding it appropriate for his needs. He places his trunk in a corner, and takes a seat on its lid, inviting Commander Argentius to join him. The leaders must be seen together, after all. He gestures for all to either sit, kneel, crouch, or whatever is comfortable. When everyone is in, he closes the door, and locks it. Pulling out his briefing and dataslate, he places them on the floor so they can be seen.


"Task Priority Real Time: Establish Cover Identities. This unit will take suggestions, but this unit does have a plan. Entertainment studios always require funding, yes? This unit would suggest impersonating wealthy investors who, seeing the success of Smiling Drusus, wishes to obtain the services of their writers to produce a drama. If these ones can pretend to require "special services", we may be led directly to the writers. What is consensus?"

[ellna]

As Ensign Smith disappears into office 968 Sarah smirks, a small chuckle twitching her lips. She hurries after Yarach.

Entering the storage unit, Sarah glares at Draco as Yarach shows deference to the noble. She breaks her gaze removing the false lens from her bionic eye, rubbing the socket before replacing the green lens over the red eye. Alexei couldn't be far enough in her opinion. Sarah sits on one of the crates, and begins tapping away on her data-slate.

"Surely the first concern should be getting planet-side. I made some inquiries earlier to see if their were any seedier elements that might ferry us unnoticed. Unfortunately I made little progress, my discretion acting against me. There are plenty of commercial and navy transports though, a little currency should get us down through conventional means."

"I see a couple problems with posing as wealthy investors. First what does it give us, access to the persons and site. I assume that locating the writer is priority? Logical given the likely source of the heresy. The disadvantages however, it'll attract a lot of attention to us. A loud cover may be unmasked from an unlikely direction. Plus the head of the production is a noble, one Susanna Jullietta. Surely she would be able to sweep aside a simple cover. Even using his" Sarah points at Draco, still not looking up from her data-slate. "credentials would be problematic. His family's position is known and could scare our quarry away. In addition we would likely need splash cash and the ploy doesn't guarantee any result, but raises awareness of us."

"I don't have a plan for cover, but I have a plan of attack. Sergei Riefenstahl has substantial debts, we could use this to control the man. Perhaps take his marker, then offer it's release. He might know who the writer was and would be more disposed to tell us than otherwise. He might be used to gain access to the facilities regardless, perhaps in the night. More viable than a break and enter, though that would be possible too..."

"Oh... and there is the fan club as well. We could join it for cover. In addition it would give us access to many rumours and possible useful information as well as access to the actor: Robert Scullion."

Sarah continues tapping away on her data-slate listening to Yarach intently.

[Urist]

This unit has a few concerns, Sarah. A direct approach will likely create state:panic, and the writers will flee. Heretics as experienced as Zweiker and Konrad have large sensor networks and arrays, and any menacing of their pawns will spook them. These ones are convincing enough, and an odd enough bunch, to successfully impersonate heretics, methinks. And Alexei would be willing to authorize usage of Inquisitorial funds, I imagine. However, this unit will consider the matter, and input from List: Cell would be appreciated.


Yarach seems to be doing his best to genuinely hear any suggestions; if any more are raised, he will open up the floor to discussion.

[DaedalusMkV]

Draco frowns in concentration, thinking, then begins tapping at his dataslate while the rest talk, obviously looking for something. "I fear I must agree with... Miss Haxta's assessment. To pose as corrupt investors would most certainly require forfeiting my family name and connections; without doubt it would put them on guard. We might be able to make such a plan work, but I expect it would require posing as a rather different sort of Noble... And I am uncertain we have the resources to invent or impersonate a Noble House on short notice." He sniffs, then rubs at his nose with one gloved hand and continues. "In my experience, the most effective lie is the one with a hint of truth. I am certain that some branch of the Arbites or the Administratum is tasked with monitoring and regulating pict-casters such as the organization we need to investigate. I propose we find such an organization and acquire identification appropriate to it." He pauses, looking around as he picks a fleck of lint from his uniform jacket, then sits up straighter. "We simple arrive, with either convincingly falsified documentation or the real thing, should our overseers be able to provide such a thing, and declare that we are conducting a routine inspection."

"Our best tactic is to present the enemy with a situation he believes he understands. Every Imperial citizen is used to scrutiny from some sector, routine and pedestrian. Such a ruse gives us a reason to question both the actors and the writing staff, as well as investigate the... Er, machinery? I confess I am uncertain what equipment would be required to run such a venture. Unfortunately, it may incentivize our traitors to make efforts to hide the evidence of their foul deeds, but I am certain that, given the element of surprise, we can overcome any such efforts." He waves his hand dismissively. "If we play the role well enough, I expect we can get the access we need without tipping off our quarry. Once we have a few of the traitors in hand, we simply roll up the organization. With a telepath on-hand, I expect the interrogations will go quickly indeed."

Finished for now, the Commander turns his attention to Yarach, waiting for the freshly-minted Captain's response.

[Urist]

Yarach looks contemplative for a moment, and then nods.


"Conclusion: Units Sarah and Draco raise good points. This unit agrees with this plan; the proliferation of Imperial bureaucracy means we are likely to be able to find an organization to impersonate. And unless the entirety of Smiling Drusus is compromised, these units may be able to obtain aid from within the studio. Perhaps a surprise inspection? Such an operation would give them no chance to hide their misdeeds and scuttle away like rats. This unit will investigate obtaining such documents before these ones depart. At worst, this unit can likely create a passable forgery for the level of scrutiny given upon entering, although it will not stand up to repeated or intense scrutiny. Commander Draco, Unit:Sarah, can these ones begin constructing cover identities for these ones? Documents are worthless without a person behind them, yes?"

If no further suggestions are made, Yarach will begin to look for a computer terminal, both to falsify a credential badge and to make an attempt to access record logs for inspections and add a surprise visit to Smiling Drusus.


Tech-Use for I.D creation: [roll0] (TN ?(70 base))
Tech-Use to access database: [roll1] (TN ?(70 base))

[Miraqariftsky]

Rochelle had merely nodded in acknowledgment of Marcus'... telemetry. She'd shrugged as she shouldered her carbine and said, "Very well, then. Can't be too sure, eh?"

Arriving at Storage Unit 371, she gave the various containers and shadows a routine check-over, then sat herself atop a desk, her pack thumping softly against the metal of the office wall. Still scanning her surroundings, she briefly picks up a copy of the venerable Guns & Ammo magazine, internally scoffs at the relative impracticality of the one-shot Middlemaster handcannon, and rolls her eyes at that bit of hypocrisy, as parts of her personal arsenal ARE some one-shot weapons as well.

Having little yet to contribute, she crosses her arms over her chest as she listens to the others. Finally, she nods, taps her urban-camo helm and says, "Agreein' wi' that, mamzel, ser. Afore we've got 'em right an' proper in our sights, wouldn't serve ta tip 'em off early. Not meanin' no disparagin' on anybody, but prob'ly be fer the best iffen we avoid splittin' forces fer now, unless the situation makes it absolutely necessary. Well, I say, we go with ser Argentius' plan as a primary, but keep agent Haxta's plan as a secondary."

She then clears her throat and asks, "Do we have a tertiary plan, other'n the classic 'Prayer an' artillery, flesh an' iron'? "

[ellna]

"I think we could apply leverage to Sergei Riefenstahl, subtly. I'm sure his personal risk, greed and blackmail, would incentivise him to remain quiet. However you are correct that there is a risk."

Sarah looks up from her Dataslate for a moment and her face twitches in a slight discomfort. This doesn't translate well onto the mesh of synthskin and produced and expression more akin to constipation.

"I believe, Argentius', plan is indeed our best course. Of the current Options, the main issue would be constructing a suitable cover. Fake documents and other considerations. I do not know of any active forger's in the area, once we reach planet-side however I may be able to locate such an individual. My inquiries aboard Demeter have been extremely limited."

Sarah's bionic eye whirs minutely, almost inaudible to most. To Sarah the mechanical occulus' little noises where her personal symphony, either that or a grating annoyance. She had spent many night's calibrating the diminutive lens motors, so they purred rather than squealed. Guns & Ammo, Sarah read the author's name from Rochelle's choice of reading material before responding.

"Tertiary plan, Break and enter under cover of the night cycle. Snatch the Actor's off the street and question them politely. Just to be sure, I'll see if I can get any local shadow's to watch for rats fleeing a sinking ship. I'm sure at least one of my contact's has a few friends in Nova Castilia."

Seeing Yarach access the computer terminal, Sarah stands and approaches. To offer her own meagre assistance as well as watch the expert at work...

If Yarach is willing to accept assistance, Sarah will try to help him. [roll0] Tech-Use Vs 35.

[DaedalusMkV]

Before Yarach and Sarah get too engrossed in their data-searching, Argentius clears his throat loudly and says. "Ah. That will not be necessary. By fortune or favour, I have the requisite information on my Data-slate. It appears it was included in the departmento-sublist in my Munitorum Manual, for some unknowable reason. Sometimes I swear the paper-pushers make everything more convoluted than it has to be just to punish the rest of us for not being stuck behind a desk our entire lives." Showing the relevant entry around, he continues. "Before we discuss forgery, I suggest we make our way to the nearest Administratum offices. We are on official Inquisitorial business, after all. We may be able to convince them to provide us with legitimate, if temporary, identification. While I doubt anyone at a two-bit pict studio like we're dealing with is terribly on the ball, nobody can identify a fake if there are no fakes to be identified."

He shrugs his shoulders. "Of course, it is only a suggestion. I confess that I have little expertise in this 'undercover' business. If there is a good reason not to involve the Administratum in any way, I will defer to your judgement." Leaning against the wall and restoring his uniform cap to its place on his head, he continues. "Either way, I shall need a new set of clothing. Something suitably Imperial, but not a uniform. I suppose I must needs look into that as well."

[ellna]

"That would be quicker. Going through legitimate channels could tip our hand if the bureau is compromised. Yarach?"

Sarah's voice is level and measured, she watches Yarach and awaits his response.

[Urist]

Yarach stops on his way out of the room, and turns around to look at Draco. On the one hand, he seems pleased that the solution is present in front of him; on the other, however, frustrated data-lust shines in his eyes.


"Good work, Commander. This unit is glad that these ones have the necessary information already, it makes the whole thing so much simpler. This one would much prefer to use fakes; I worry that whatever organization we are dealing with might be compromised. And even if they are not, convincing Administratum pencil-pushers to falsify records requires either bribes or coercion of a level this one would prefer this cell not resort to this early. We are already less than subtle, but we can at least TRY to fly under the radar this time."

[bluntpencil]

Two night cycles pass on the station as the cell prepare disguises, practise cover stories, and produce their falsified documents.

They are an inspection team of 'The Bureau of Factual and Moral Accuracy (Bufma)'. According to more information that the cell has sourced, they do appear to employ Tech Priests, due to the technology used in the production of film. They also appear to hire experts in various fields, to ensure that accuracy in certain areas is preserved or, more commonly, that certain things are not accurate. It wouldn't do to have the populace accidentally find out the truth of the Margin Crusade anything classified at all.

Alpha Cell, now Calixis Bufma Inspection Team Violet #36, is able to secure transport on an Administratum linked shuttle to Nova Castilia quite easily, which, after reaching the spaceport has them greeted by an official who, quite frankly, looks like every Administratum spaceport official that they've ever met.

He looks the same, sounds the same, and says the exact same words that they're used to,

"Papers, please..."

[ellna]

Sarah steps off the transport, the coarse, grey Administratum robes concealing the two pistols holstered where the pockets exited. The Navy dispatcher case had also undergone a change in identity, now resembling a thick documents case. Sarah reached into the side compartment her ink stained fingers, a nice touch she had thought, removing the falsified documents Yarach had provided. She was still annoyed at her own inability to provide such documentation, but she had to admit Yarach had done a decent job.

As Sarah extended her documents her false face betrayed only sullen boredom, the fare of all passengers.

This is a Link. (http://gamecloud.net.au/wp-content/uploads/2013/08/PapersPleaseLogo.png)

[Urist]

Yarach is careful to conceal his trepidation as he steps off the transport shuttle, hoping not to attract any unwarranted attention to himself. Not that he was likely to; although his Sollex lasrifle was holstered on his back and his Omnissian rod strapped beside it, his tech priest robes and the general augmented bulk of Mechanicus adepts, as well as their faceless nature due to their hoods, made strict scrutiny of them very unlikely anyway. He follows Sarah's lead, removing his papers and holding them out to the clerk, doing his best to project both an attitude of boredom and urgency, hoping to speed the cell through customs as quickly as possible.

[Strawberries]

Marcus produces the requested papers without a word. Another hive, like all planets he's ever been to. It feels as if the entire Empire is just made of hive worlds, at times. He just gives a cursory glance to the official, and then just waits with his hand outstretched for his papers back: he knows he's not particularly remarkable or noteworthy, something that has been considered an advantage by all his previous employers. Apparently, psykers are expected to be easier to recognise than he is - whether this is true or just a common misconception, he wouldn't be able to say.

[Miraqariftsky]

Rochelle glares at all they meet through the dark lenses of her photo-visors, giving every shadow, every doorway... every person's hands, stance, eyes for danger or murderous intent. Business as usual for a private security officer, her carapace armour painted in shades of grey and black.

Another job, another hive... She suppresses a sigh as they settle into queue and a thin smile at the strange comfort of the familiar. Hurry up and wait.

Rochelle takes the lead, with a brief glance and nod to check at the not-quite-Draco, (presumably?) her other fellow "security officer" of this not-quite-analyst-team, Corin Nova of Bulldog Security, currently contracted to The Bureau of Factual and Moral Accuracy, assignment, Team 36.

When called to the line, she makes it quite clear that she's giving the security behind the counter a look-over, as well as behind their shoulders and around them, all in the space of a couple of seconds.

Just the job, just business as usual. Quite so.

On order, she presents her freshly fabricated papers. And, if need be, flashes her properly authentic mercenary license, service still valid for a few years before needing to be renewed, permit valid in the Josian, Golgenna and Malfian subsectors. If need be, makes it quite clear that her leather-and-rags-wrapped lascarbine is on safe, powercell presently disengaged. And if asked for--- gives a slight growl and grumble at the delay and inconvenience--- goes about an extensive disarmament.

[DaedalusMkV]

Draco moves forwards in freshly acquired robes, some sort of synth-silk that one of his cousins had assured him was quite fashionable among the scholarly-inclined, though it barely seems any different from any other grey set of cloth as far as he can tell. He's kept his sword, reasoning that he can simply call it a family heirloom that he isn't willing to go without, as well as his service laspistol, though he's chosen to stow that away inside his trunk with the rest of his possessions rather than carry it on his person. The entire getup still feels extremely odd, especially without the familiar bulk of his flakweave armour, and he intermittently pats at his chest and sides, checking for kit that isn't there. Still, with his greying hair and middle-aged visage (both more the result of choice than anything, since Juvenat treatments could easily have frozen his appearance in his mid-teens), he looks more the scholarly Adept than most, and does his best to reinforce the image with a document case carried in one hand.

When the customs agent asks for documentation, Draco looks up as though noticing him for the first time, then nods and extends his (falsified) papers. "Of course. Malgus Argentius, Bureau of Factual and Moral Accuracy." He states, self-importantly, standing tall and adopting his usual parade-ground demeanor. "Here on urgent business, of course. I trust that everything is in order."

A name adopted from the aforementioned cousin, himself a real Administratum adept, admittedly in a post both more important and closer to home, and a much more familiar air of authority. Hopefully, the man won't look twice. After all, in Draco's experience, the pencil-pushers are always the first to brag about the importance of their work, no matter how pointless it might be.

[bluntpencil]

"Everything seems to be in order, Violet Thirty Six. Proceed."

The official doesn't even seem to look up at you, as he crosses boxes and then stamps endless sheets of paper.

You are all, now, in the space port. According to your data files, Smiling Drusus Studios should be in District Twelve, in the Mid Hive. Apparently, it's some sort of entertainment district, filled with bars, cinemas and music halls. Interestingly, however, it also holds the Cathedral of the Unshaken, which is rather popular with pilgrims from Magnagorsk and Volg.

Apparently there are also fighting pits, now and then, but someone (very probably Alexei) has annotated with a note on how they've got nothing on Volg Hive's pits.

First, it seems wise to secure accommodation. There are Administratum holdings in District Eleven, neighbouring District Twelve, but District Twelve also has numerous hotels and hostelries.

[ellna]

Typical bureaucrats, as long as the forms were filled nothing else mattered. Sarah hides a smirk, betraying nothing, as the official hands back the fake documents. If only he knew. Sarah continued through the space port in an ordered manner.

Outside she turned to Yarach. Her tone is neutral and dull.

"Sir? Should we proceed to district eleven to secure lodgings?"

[Urist]

Yarach is glad that their papers pass muster, but also somewhat saddened. If their hastily-forged papers could allow them entrance, what manner of heretic, heretek, and other scum might be slipping through the sieve?


"I think it would be best to make our way to District 12, ya? I'd rather not announce our intentions directly, and the Administratum may become suspicious of our documents under close scrutiny. A hostel or hotel, mayhaps? Allows us to remain... inconspicuous. Let's find ourselves some lodgings there."

[ellna]

Sarah simply nods.

[DaedalusMkV]

Draco sighs, scratching at his greying hair. He's used to letting underlings do the information-gathering for him. Going in almost completely blind like this is new, and not terribly comfortable. Looking across the spaceport, he replies to Yarach. "I agree. If anyone asks why we are not making use of the Administratum facilities, I can simply tell them that the comfort and convenience of a private hotel is more than worth the cost. Which it will be, in all honesty." One hand comes to rest on the hilt of his sword, an unconscious gesture. "Once we have done so, we can make preparations for our investigation. If nothing else, I believe a Vox-recorder might be useful for conducting interviews, and we may benefit from sending in someone... Less conspicuous to observe the area beforehand." He makes no suggestions on that front, preferring to let someone volunteer if anyone cares to.

[ellna]

Sarah nods again, this time at Draco.

"Sounds good. I can scout the area easily enough, my bag of tricks has many guises for me to wear."

Let me know when you want the scouting, after we set up camp or now? Alexei... I mean Blunt the mighty GM what rolls would recon entail. Preferably with me in another disguise blending with crowds and shadows ect.

[Strawberries]

Marcus has been silent for a while, as usual, but he intervenes when Draco mentions the possibility of sending someone to scout ahead. That is one of the areas where he'd probably be most useful "I can go with her, if you need me to, sir." After a glance at Sarah he amends "I mean, if you want me to, ma'am."

[Miraqariftsky]

Ah, Nova Castillia...

Rochelle had had her couple of official tours of duty back when she was still in the 63rd in downtown Magnagorsk. Behind her goggles and gasmask, she grimaces, then smirks at those blood-and-filth stained memories. There were a couple more contracts that were, literally, filthy, in neighbouring, sprawling Volg.

...but this here's Nova Castilia, seat of Fenk's so-called majesty. She marches onward, keeping pace with the others, still waiting to be impressed.

Nodding at Yarach and shrugging, her gauntleted fingers drumming on her lascarbine's skeleton stock, she says, "The scouting party might need the medic more than the lodging party, ja? Wilco, ma'am."

[ellna]

"While three sets of eyes can see more than one. Three bodies can be recognised where one cannot. It's better I do this alone. If the scouting party needs a medic, the scouting party is doing it's job wrong."

Sarah speaks and there is a slight hint of a scowl, which never reaches her face.

[Urist]

Yarach's mouth curls into a slight frown. Discord within his cell was already occuring, not a day into their investigation, and knowing Sarah, such friction could easily escalate into a full-blown meltdown and critical failure, given time. Of course it is a small blessing that Sarah seems to have chosen subtlety and obedience to defiance, misinterpreting of orders, or dereliction of duty; given her hstory, Yarach figures he ought to count his blessings and refrain from attempting to change her parameters too much.


"Unit: Haxta is correct. We should head to our lodgings first, after which Sarah will scout Smiling Drusus. From a distance, Sarah, and engage hostiles only if your cover is compromised and with direct authorization from this unit. This unit will stay in vox-contact; ascertain possible egress and ingress points, as well as routines of doormen, workers, etc. On the morrow, we will make a surprise inspection visit. Everyone armor up and gear up inconspicuously; I do not want to be caught in a firefight with no way out. Are these orders clear?"

[ellna]

"Yes, Sir."

Sarah says without a hint of defiance in her tone. A year ago she might have clicked her heels and given a mocking salute, but that was then. Besides she had a good deal of respect for Yarach, he was as unwavering as Alexei and a good deal smarter.

I'm not suspicious honest ;p

[Miraqariftsky]

"Aye, ser."

Once they have arrived at whichever hotel their trusty lieu--- trusty captain chooses as their base of operations, Rochelle sets about a meticulous sweep of the location. She listens for any hollow spaces in the floorboards, checks beneath lampshades and behind ornaments, pokes into cabinets and closets, stabs her pistol's tac-light below the beds, beneath the sheets... and even up onto the ceilings.

Once satisfied, she reports to Captain Yarach... seemingly in just a battered old greatcoat, the hood of her synskin suit pooled at her neck. Her halfway blue, halfway salt-and-pepper hair still clearly ruffled from helmet-headedness, she throws Yarach a salute and says, "Habs clear, sir. Request clearance to conduct parallel recon?"

[bluntpencil]

Sarah isn't able to find anyone willing to speak to her about anything of interest. They're polite enough, but they generally avoid extended conversation, being too concerned about getting to the cinema on time, or getting their next drink.

Still, she does find the studio by herself, after thirty minutes or so. She subtly watches for hours, from various levels of walkway, marking out its guard changes and what's going on. It's not heavily guarded, not really. The guards, although armed, seem to be nightclub bouncers on a day job, keeping starstruck fans from irritating the celebrities. Most of the security, on the outside at least, seems to be just video cameras to deter trespassing.

Rochelle, after deciding that the rooms are clean and safe, gets a feel for the local area. The district is a contained hive area, of about thirty levels in something of a steel bubble. She gets a good grip on the layout of the district, and gets chatting to the locals, about various things.

After buying a few vids, and lending the clerk a lighter, she learns that Smiling Drusus' studios aren't hiring any writers at present, as they're half-way through producing the next season of Maccabean Cathedral. Apparently one of the lead characters is going to be killed off, and the clerk is quite excited about this for some reason. One of the crew had apparently leaked this spoiler and the press were going wild for it.

He seems more interested in the next installment of 'Arbitrator Foreboding', though, after extreme public demand managed to secure finance for a sequel. Rumour has it that the tough Judge would be purging corrupt nobles, claims the clerk, who then won't shut up about a leaked clip of the fictitious Arbitrator jumping on a grenade, and then dusting himself off, as being 'far too unrealistic'.

[ellna]

Sarah returns to the lodgings following her stake out and reports to Yarach. It's with a certain amount of satisfaction that she says:

"No trouble. The building is guarded lightly, cameras and hired muscle, not doubt to prevent errant fans rather than a determined assault. The interior could be different, however. I've got a a good handle on the exterior layout, points of entry and the shift changes of course."

Sarah plucks her Bionic eye free, downloading images of the studio onto her Data-slate, where she transfers them to Yarach, before replacing both the eye and it's cosmetic false lens. She then changes back into the adept disguise, removing the dusty jacket she had been using to surveil the place.

[Urist]

During his stay in the hotel room, Yarach has been cleaning, maintaining, and readying his gear for stowage. As far as he can tell, he can fit his lasrifle, carapace helmet, and required documents in his carrying case along with a datapad and paper, the normal tools of an Adminstratum tech-advisor. With his armor under his robes or suit, it appeared that he could pass as just a bulky tech-priest rather than a fully-armored one.

When Sarah returns, he sits down to go over the mission, wincing as she pulls out her bionic eye. This unit is so cavalier with the gifts of the Machine-God... She is lucky the machine spirit does not rebel against such an intrustion.

After finishing his scan of the data, he turns to Sarah and smiles.


"This unit must offer thanks, Unit:Haxta. This unit sincerely hopes we will avoid need of this and be able to just walk out; however, in case that proves not to be true, this information is invaluable.|

After downloading the information to his own dataslate, he readies himself to take the first watch, posting up in the most secure corner of the room with his las-rifle drawn and ready, Omnissian Axe at his side.

[Miraqariftsky]

Rochelle returns to the hotel, two plastic bags slung over her shoulder. She salutes once the door closes behind her, and sets the bags on the table. One contains several discs' worth of videos, the other has at least a dozen piping hot grox burgers. Among other fast, hot, greasy foods.

"What? Who's hungry, eh?"

On the other side of the table, she sets down her gathered maps and a 'slate already containing pict-captures of the Smiling Drusus building from multiple angles, uploaded from her HoxLongshot magnoculars, as well as a surreptitious recording of voices in the vid-club.

"Corroborating her findings, sir, regarding exterior layout and the state of the guards.

The vice district, is--- from this sector to there. Unfortunately, nobody can quite confirm where our errant target primaris gets his game on. At least for now, the writer question is still a blank. Somebody's already gone ahead and half-produced a Maccabean Cathdral second season despite how poorly it'd been farin', but nobody seems to know or care, about the unnamed scriptwriter."

[ellna]

"Thanks."

Sarah grabs a grox burger a tears into it. She is however careful not to get any of the greasy foodstuff on her robes and after devouring it wipes her hand clean on a clean cloth, before reapplying the ink stain on her fingertips.

"So I assume Argentius will be taking point for our surprise inspection tomorrow, question the person or persons in charge. Yarach I assume you'll be checking over machine spirits. That leaves the rest of us to question the workers, actors and extras. If Marcus pairs with me and we conduct interviews together, Rochelle can ask questions in a less official manner. Since she's playing the part of a hired guard and not a admin official perhaps folks will be more open?"

[Urist]

"Thank you for the nutrients, Rochelle. These units will need them, this unit thinks."

Yarach, careful not to drip grease, proceeds to neatly shove an amount of fast food into his gullet to satisfy his biological needs, seemingly indifferent as to what he gets his hands on. When he is sated, he quickly heads to the sink and removes the respirator grill from his throat, inspecting it to make sure no food or grease had contaminated his filters. Satisfied, he returns to the table and sits down, thinking for a moment. \


"Beginning file: SDInfPAlpha.pla: Writing. Mission Objectives: Locate screenwriter. Secondary objectives: determine level of taint. Further objectives written as plan proceeds.
Operatives Sarah and Marcus comprise Team 1. Team 1 Mission Parameters: Interview actors, stagehands, etc. Look for violations of labor codes and other miscellany. Unit: Marcus: ascertain corruption level of those present, or any thoughts which might lead us to heresy.
Operative: Commander Argentius comprises Team 2. Team 2 Mission Parameters: Question person/s in charge. Ascertain corruption level. Secondary objective: get access to the books, obtain scans.
Operative: Captain-Secutor Yarach comprises Team 3: Mission Parameters: conduct full noospheric analysis and cogitator dredging. Identify all useful information. Secondary: question all tech-personnel; rely on Mechanicus cachet and technical knowledge.
Operative: Rochelle comprises Team 4: Mission Parameters: Informal questioning/investigation. Secondary objective: lookout and spotter for hostile action.
File complete. Saving... Saved as SDInfPAlpha.pla. Should this one replay SDInfPAlpha.pla?"

[ellna]

Sarah nods at Yarach's briefing. Her expression is all business as she listens and responds.

"Agreed. Draco, you got a pict capture device on you? If not you may use my Data-slate it has pict capture functionality."

[Strawberries]

Marcus eyes the food with a bit of distaste, albeit rather well-concealed, then nods in thanks and proceeds to eat half a burger with careful, methodical motions.

He acknowledges Yarach's order with a low "Yes sir." And to Sarah "It will be better if I pretend to be a secretary, ma'am" That would avoid him to ask questions directly, something that he knows he's not particularly competent to do. Marcus hesitates, uncertain whether to explain how his abilities actually work, then decides to try. Sarah should know already, he's not sure that Yarach does. "I can pick up emotions and...and fragments, sir, sometimes, but to actively listening at thoughts is dangerous. I would do it only if really necessary, sir. "

[Urist]

When Marcus queries him, Yarach's eyebrows raise slightly; he's not used to the young psyker asserting himself at all, let alone countermanding an order. Nevertheless, the boy did have a point. If a warp-rift or hellfrost happened while they were investigating Smiling Drusus, the entire investigations accuracy would be compromised.



[B]"This unit understands that, Agent Lumen. It is your judgement as to when and how you use your psychic abilities in the field."

Yarach feels that he doesn't need to note the penalties for unnecessary or... unsafe uses of Marcus' psyker abilities. The young psyker knew well enough.

[Strawberries]

"Thank you, sir" Marcus replies, quietly, slight relief evident in his voice. He was already planning to use his passive ability to its full extent, of course, but it's relieving to know that he won't be ordered to draw upon the Warp to actively scan every single person they plan to talk to.

[DaedalusMkV]

Draco takes the Grox burger with a nod of thanks, eating carefully lest he spill any of the greasy sauce on his newly-acquired clothing. While many members of the Imperial nobility might turn their noses up at such fare, decades in the Imperial Guard have removed any pickiness from his eating habits, more than one campaign leaving him grateful enough to find a steady source of field rations, much less the sort of food common to ballrooms and formal dinners. if anything, he has relatively little taste for formal dining these days; there are much more useful ways to spend time than eating, after all. As soon as he finishes, wiping his mouth and hands with a handkerchief that's quickly stowed back into a pocket, he replies. "I do not object to the plan, though I would suggest some caution in splitting too far apart. Should our quarry realize our true purposes, I expect they will attempt to deal with us in isolation. I would prefer to employ Sergeant Rochelle in the role of a rotating reserve, checking each team in turn to ensure that nobody is compromised." Frowning, he pauses for a moment to consider. "Otherwise, the objectives laid out seem reasonable. I will need to borrow... Miss Haxta's dataslate as well. Mine is designed solely for data storage and display; I've had little use for taking picts before today."

[ellna]

"Good idea."

Sarah says grudgingly. What right did the noble have to being... useful. When she learned a man of means was joining their merry band she had baulked, but time spent with him showed he was a different type than those slain on Malfi.

"I'm sure Rochelle is capable of accomplishing both objectives, though I still agree we shouldn't disperse too much. If possible working to achieve our objectives in relative proximity. Staying within a room or two in case of compromisation."

Sarah then proceeds to pick through the vids that Rochelle had bought, aiming to find Macbean Cathedral and settles down to watch it. Or a least any production by shining Drusus productions. Sarah pays close attention to the movie, attempting to pick out specific actors or styles...

In the morning Sarah deactivates one layer of her Data-slate security allowing Argentius to use it before giving it to the noble.

Yup I'm ready to move along. I'd like to use scrutiny on the vids though see if I can acquire and useful intel: [roll0]
If nothing else it would be good for sarah to know the plot, characters and things she'll be fabricating questions on.

[bluntpencil]

The cell convene in the morning, after spending several hours getting their story straight, preparing their false identities in the evening.

Breakfast is coffee, and a pretty good serving of bread and eggs. Not as bad as one might expect - the hotel is actually quite good. It's no Hive Spire hotel, but it's no Underhive inn either.

When they arrive at Smiling Drusus Studios, they find that its, well, rather unimpressive from the outside. It looks like any other concrete building, really. It could be anything, if it wasn't for the gaudy sign above the doorway, and the guard at the door in their livery: a T-Shirt with a grinning Saint. It's almost blasphemous, but not quite. It's reminiscent of those bloody awful plastic charms of Primarchs and the Emperor people often have in their homes.

The guard says nothing, allowing you to walk in, when a receptionist greets you.

"Good morning," she says, utterly monotone.

"Oh, Bufma? Whatever. The production manager will be here shortly..."

Assuming you wait, you wait for quite some time...

[Miraqariftsky]

"YETTHIR."

Rochelle takes her share of the dinner, wolfing down two. She takes a drink and raises her cup in agreement with her orders. On her third burger, she takes her time, sipping as well.

Once all the wrappers and cups are done, she stretches languidly and settles herself down on one of the chairs and slowly lays all her kit bare on the table. Checking straps and functions; disassembling, oiling, cleaning and reassembling weapons, intoning the various Litanies as she does so. The meditation of the Metallican, as it were...

"Afore y'all go, who's takin' the second an' last watches?"

As the others begin to drift off and Sarah begins perusing the video stack, the former merc asks her younger colleague while blowing through a pistol barrel, then brushing it down again, "Hey. Looks like we've got first watch, eh? Which other works of Smiling Drusus've ye seen before?"

~~

A quirk of a smile draws at the former Guardswoman's lips as she gets a close-up of the grinning visage of the soldier saint.

Corin Nova stalks about the group of analysts, a sad little bulldog going about a lonesome shepherding job. Wearing an open greatcoat over carapace, though unlikely, she hopes she didn't miss anything when blacking out or painting over any telltale marks on her kit. Even the currently shouldered lascarbine is carefully wrapped in rags and synthi-leather.

She peers after the receptionist, checking the shadows, as well as her body, whether she is what she seems to be...


Awareness [roll0] TN 40? Anything amiss? Anybody ELSE around?
Keen Intuition [roll1] TN 30?
Scrutiny, ditto [roll2] TN 40? Anything entrappingly deceptive?
Logic, for trying to spot any patterns [roll3] TN 40?

[Urist]

Yarach, having taken the last watch, is ready to move out to Smiling Drusus. Putting on a more human face, he almost seems to enjoy his coffee and eggs and bread, a rarity for a tech-priest. With his robes, ornate walking stick, and briefcase, he appears the consummate Mechanicus professional. Draining the last of his coffee, he walks out the door smiling and ready to charm.

In the lobby of Smiling Drusus, Yarach quickly grows tired of waiting, and makes his way to the receptionist. Taking off his hood, he delivers his most winning smile, attempting to leverage his good lucks and charm her into perhaps raising their priority level.


"Hello! This unit is Unit Tech-Priest Enginseer Vogel of the Bureau of Factual and Moral Accuracy! This unit would hate to be a burden, but these ones do have many inspections to make today. Would it be possible to inform the production manager of the urgency of our request?"


If this fails, Yarach will then proceed to inquire as to the reason behind the delay, continuing to chat unless the receptionist becomes clearly hostile or angry.


Yarach, do good face!

Charm:[roll0] TN: ?(Base 40)
Inquiry: [roll1] TN: ? (Base 40)

[bluntpencil]

It doesn't take Rochelle long to realise that that the production manager isn't going to arrive soon. She can tell from the receptionist's tone of voice that 'shortly' meant 'at some point today, maybe'.

She doesn't seem inclined to help Yarach either, especially with her response,

"He'll be here shortly."

Rochelle can't help but notice her irritation, and that it meant 'just wait all day and leave me alone'.

At first, on account of her bad mood, and apparent dislike for the new Captain, the receptionist is reluctant to engage in any chit-chat. Eventually, however, he realises that the production manager, actually a nobody in the grand scheme of things, is exceptionally overworked right now, and treats the other crew members terribly if they distract him or bother him in any way.

"The guy's an ass. I don't care how hard his job is. Still, I'm not getting chewed out for you lot."

[DaedalusMkV]

When the useless little woman tries to sideline him, Argentius' eyes narrow and he instinctively raises his chin and looks down at her for a moment, wondering who she thinks she is to dare treat her betters in such a fashion. When she rebuffs Yarach's overture, his nostrils flare and he takes two steps forwards, looming over her desk. "Perhaps you don't understand, miss. Your betters have work to do, and we will not be... Sidelined in such a manner. My office has the power to shut your little studio down with a word. It seems that the bureau's previous investigators have been lax in their responsibilities, but I have no intention of wasting my time here." He leans forwards, hand resting on the hilt of his blade instinctively. "You will call in the production manager now, or I will simply list your organization as non-compliant and call for a full audit." (Do they do audits in this field? Hopefully the receptionist doesn't know any better than Draco does.)


Well, according to the book, this can be either an Intimidate or Command test, since I'm both trying to coerce her and appealing to authority to force her to follow my orders. Since I'm terrible at Intimidate and pretty good at Command, I'm going to go for the latter. Draco is used to having his orders followed, and this girl is pretty much pushing all his buttons.

Command: [roll0] Vs TN 55 (45+10)
Intimidate as well, if necessary (ugh): [roll1] vs TN 10 (blech)

[bluntpencil]

The woman stops doing what she's doing (which is a puzzle of some sort in a magazine), and nods curtly to the Commander.

"Of course, I'm sure Mister Kristof would have arrived immediately if he realised that it was Bufma..."

And she scurries off, obviously worried about her cushy little job.

After about two or three minutes, she returns, wincing with worry, accompanied by a fat gentleman, wearing a yellow high-vis vest and a cap. He grins, and loudly greets the 'inspection team'. He seems very friendly.

"Bufma! It's been... four years since our last inspection! How is Director Farnsworth?!"

[ellna]

Sarah answers Rochelle's question with a blunt response, before turning back to watch the vids. The only sound the almost imperceivable whirring of her eye.

"None."



In the morning Sarah eats her breakfast at a measured pace, ensures no errant crumbs mar her disguise and leaves with the others. She wears a mask of disinterested boredom and follows Argentius' lead. When the insipid receptionist stalls their progress, Sarah briefly toys with blasting a neat hole through her skull dismissing the idea instantly. Drawing her pistol would immediately break her painstakingly perfect disguise, no lowly scribe would wield such craftsmanship. Sarah kept the smirk off her lips and yawned silently.

[Urist]

Yarach is nonplussed by the woman's complete lack of response. Perhaps his models of hominid social interaction was flawed? Regardless, the Commander's timely intervention puts a smile back on his face. Although he hated to be so overt, they really didn't have time for this lowly cog to obstruct their duties.

When the production manager arrives and greets them,Yarach immediately moves to speak to him. Offering his hand to shake, Yarach tries to flash another winning smile.
Perhaps the new data from Unit: Receptionist will prove sufficient to correct the model...


This unit and this units comrades thank this one for expediting process: Inspection! "This unit is Enginseer Vogel of the Bureau of Moral and Factual Accuracy! This one is not personally familiar with Director Farnsworth, but imagines he is doing well! If this unit could be escorted to data processing while this ones comrades perform interviews and inspections, this inspection can be completed with all haste. This unit would hate to interrupt the Emperor's work!"

If Yarach is indeed led to his destination, he will begin to fuss around examining the computer systems of the studio,while covertly attempting to access any noospheric connections, personal files, or other potentially useful information.


Charm: [roll0] TN: ?(Base 40)
For when/if Yarach can make his way to processing: Tech Use to perhaps help the Security roll [roll1] TN: ? (Base 85 from skill, Interface, Combi-Tool)
Security: [roll2] TN: ? (Base 45)

[bluntpencil]

The production manager looks like he's trying to suppress a sneer at the Tech Priest, but offers a very fake smile, and explains that they don't have a cogitator system or electronic database, but he does grant Yarach access to their physical, paper files, in an old, musty office room.

It takes an hour to gather everything relevant together, and, after copying the files to a dataslate, using a pictographic function, it might take all night to actually fully analyse.

The data largely focuses on personnel details and financial transactions, for the most part. Right now, the Captain is unable to tell if there is anything untoward.

None of the filing cabinets are locked, at least not after the production manager opens them. There is a small safe in the room, however, and it remains sealed.

[Urist]

Yarach returns the fake smile, and busily begins capturing information for later analysis. As soon as the production manager leaves, however, he drops what he is doing and moves over to the safe in the corner of the room. Pulling out his multikey, Yarach proceeds to attempt to open the safe, and quickly scanning and replacing all information inside.


Security for opening the safe:
[roll0] TN: ? (Base 75)

[bluntpencil]

The safe opens reasonably quickly - it's quite a simple system for Yarach to get past.

Yarach finds banking details for the staff, which he quickly photographs. He also finds a fair amount of petty cash, but nothing that anyone could seriously consider suspicious - there are a few hundred Thrones, roughly.

[Urist]

Unsurprising that Process: Heresy is hidden... But still disappointing. If only heretics were as stupid as we would like...

Yarach will skim the texts collected, looking for any mention of writers, or any other staff or expenditures not obviously accountable for. Regardless of how-well hidden the heresy might be, it would have to show up in the bank-ledgers; expenses are expenses, after all.


Logic (?) to identify any immediately strange patterns in the data: [roll0] TN: ?(Base 55)

[bluntpencil]

In the time he has available, Yarach isn't able to work out anything that might provide further insight. Maybe later, after they return to the hotel, perhaps, but not now, it would take hours.

[Urist]

Upon examing payroll and finding no evidence of a scriptwriter, Yarach tracks down the production manager with the payroll sheet. Upon finding him, he puts his interaction routine into overdrive, determined to charm this human into giving him some useful data.


"This unit offers this unit's most sincere apologies, sir. But I believe one sheet may be missing from payroll; I can't seem to find any mention of a scriptwriter anywhere! This unit would like to get this inspection and audit done as quickly as possible, so that both Smiling Drusus and Bufma can serve the Imperium more effectively. Can you perhaps provide me with some information on the scriptwriter, so as to expedite this process?"


Yarach is bringing out the (social) big guns. Using the Heirophant ability to spend a Fate Point to automatically succeed at a Charm test, with WP Bonus(4) DoS. Talk, little man, sing like a canary! :D

[bluntpencil]

The production manager seems caught off-guard a little,

"I've had no dealings with the script-writer, sir. He or she must get dealt with by the higher ups? I'm not sure."

He does look more than a little confused, and seems to stop to think,

"Now that you mention it, I've no idea who the script-writer even is. That's weird. Maybe the director will know something about that...? If I hear of anything, I'll be sure to find you."

[ellna]

Sarah hangs back, still looking decidedly bored, waiting for Argentius to take lead. When she is permitted to begin interviews she asks the receptionist for a list of personnel and begin talking to them in alphabetical order, asking each an exhaustive list of set questions and only deviating from it when something catches her slumbering suspicion. She proceeds through the questions in a calm, but quick manner only pausing between each question for Marcus to jot down the answer.

When let loose Sarah iniates Inquiry, using a Fate point to apply a plus 10 and using Clues from the Crowds, if applicable. If not I'll reroll a failure with a fate point.

[roll0]
[roll1] Target 60

Q&A

What is your name?
What is you purpose/job/role?
What equipment do you handle?
What research have you done for your role?
What props do you handle?
Where is the closest shrine/temple to the emperor?
When did a priest last visit smiling drusus productions?
When did a Administratum worker last visit smiling Drusus productions?
Do you think your logo is appropriate?
When Dalanger spoke harshly against the almighty emperor in episode 7 of Macabean Cathedral how did it make you feel?
Which show is your favourite?
Do you think that smiling Drusus productions is pious?
What about... Actors name/managers name/ ect? Are they pious?
Are you allowed to see/edit/copy the script (before/during/after) productions?
Do you believe the portrayal of the nobility in Macabean Cathedral is insulting?
How much are you paid?
How much do you donate/tithe to the emperor?
Have you ever committed a criminal or sacrilegious act?
If so did you perform the appropriate punishment/appeasment?
Had did that make you feel?
Do any of your co-workers/employees/employers/collegues have a criminal record?
Have any of your co-workers/employees/employers/collegues ever spoken against the imperium/emperor.
Do you have a shrine to the emperor within smiling Drusus?
Where is it?
Why not?
Have you asked your employer to supply you with a shrine?
How long have you worked here?
How long do you intend to work here?
Are you happy here?
Why not?
In Judges how do you feel when a citizen is killed by criminals?
In judges how do you feel when a/the judge kills a criminal?
In Gunmetal underhive how do you feel when a criminal kills a criminal?
Where do you acquire your props from?
Who is in charge of props?
Can you alter props to suit your needs?
Do your video equipment require upkeep often?
When were you last visited by the mechanicus?
Do you like the mechanicus?
Do you have training in handling the machine spirits of any of these devices?
Have you ever had trouble with fans inside/outside of work?
Have you ever taken a narcotic?
Have you ever been asked to take a narcotic?
Have you ever seen somebody taking a narcotic?
Have you ever been asked to get a narcotic for someone?

I think that's all the questions I can think of... But if their are any obvious ones I've missed feel free to add them on.

[DaedalusMkV]

Draco blinks at the news that the manager hasn't had any contact with the scriptwriter. "It is extremely unusual for a writer to go undocumented entirely. I assume that you have gone over your own accreditation sequence, after all." He frowns. "We will of course need to interview the writer and review the upcoming scripts before we can complete our inspection. Is the director in today, or perhaps the producer? I would rather this process be finished as quickly as possible. Easier for both of us, after all, and I've plenty more stops to make before the next reporting period." (Do Administratum adepts have reporting periods? Hopefully they do, since the Munitorum requires a complete accounting every Terran cycle.) He flashes a calculated smile, attempting to prove his sincerity. "Perhaps you could check in with them via vox-line if they aren't here currently? I'm sure they would be as pleased to see this whole process finished as I will be."


Okay, I'm here again. A bit frazzled, and I kind of forgot what I was supposed to be doing other than talking to the Manager, but I'm back at least.

Attempting a Charm test on him, in the hopes of keeping him compliant: [roll0] vs TN 45 (Fel 45, no innate modifiers)

Edit: Hopefully he already had a pretty good attitude. Not going to reroll, since while that probably didn't help us much I don't think it hurt either.

Other questions for him, OOC for brevity:
-Have any of your staff had notable issues in the last year? Problems with drug addiction, that sort of thing. Anything that would have impacted their ability to complete their work.
-Have you had any problems with security in the studio? Fans breaking in, theft, that sort of thing?
-Has the studio acquired any new investors since the last inspection?
-Are you satisfied with the current state of your organization? Do you have any problems you would like to see Bufma look into?

Commander Argentius makes a show of writing down the manager's answers in a notebook, and otherwise goes to check on Sarah and Yarach occasionally. With Yarach looking through the paper archives, I'm not sure what else to do with myself.

[Strawberries]

Marcus follows Sarah, staying a bit behind, making sure he doesn't hinder her questioning in any way. Mostly, he pretends to be more concentrated in taking notes than what he really is - he doesn't need a great deal of attention to transcribe the replies, but appearing to be focused on his dataslate makes him look inconspicuous, and gives him more leeway to observe the people Sarah is interrogating.
Marcus doesn't speak unless spoken to, but keeps his ears and his mind open to catch any hint of deception.

I'm (sort of) back as well!
I'll roll Scrutiny as well [roll0]. And Psyniscience, just in case [roll1] vs 50 . Last but not least, should I need Interrogation [roll2] vs 50.

[bluntpencil]

Argentius finds the manager to be largely compliant, if a bit bored by the bureaucratic questioning and soft interrogation. That being said, he doesn't seem to think anything is out of place, as this sort of Administratum review is reasonably common in many Imperial industries.

His answers are largely non-committal - he doesn't seem to know a lot, although he does freely admit this. He doesn't know if staff are on drugs, or struggling financially, for example, aside from the rumours of Riefenstahl's debts.

They've had no major security issues, either. Occasionally fans will want to meet the actors, but it's never out of hand, and the actors, particularly the lead, Robert Scullion, seem to enjoy it.

He suspects that there has been a windfall of cash for the company, though, but he has no idea if this is because of their shows' popularity or due to new investment, or some combination of factors. He suggests that maybe the producers, such as Lady Julietta, might know more of that. It seems to be above his pay grade, really.

---

Sarah, with Marcus' assistance, interviews a number of the crew and the actors. They're quite the varied bunch, although mostly, as expected, not terribly interesting (at least with regards to the mission).

Generally, they can see the script ahead of time, and apparently it's not allowed to be edited, most of the time. Props and costumes often have to be altered, apparently, largely to fit different sizes of people - they're not tailored to the individuals.

Some of the individuals admit to having taken narcotics, such as the camera operator, Marcus Bridges. "Nothing illegal, maaaaan," the obscura-head claims. Others accuse him of trying to sell them obscura, largely members of the floor crew, who seem fed up with his lazy manner. He doesn't seem to be any real trouble, aside from turning up to work late far too often, but, apparently, he's good enough at his job to make it too much hassle to sack him.

-

Maria Florin, the female lead, is interviewed on the first morning. She's quite the beautiful young woman, if overly made-up. For the most part, she seems uninterested in some dull, administrative interview. She barely answers the questions on her opinions of the productions made by Smiling Drusus, as she, for the most part, seems to think them beneath her. She's never even seen 'Judges', so obviously can't answer questions on it.

"I'm an opera singer, damn it! I should be singing the praises of the Saints on stage, on Scintilla, not in some two-bit soap opera here on bloody Fenksworld."

She seems to think the staff are pious enough, but has no real idea when pressed - she obviously doesn't socialise with them. That being said, she does reckon the male lead, Robert Scullion, is very pious.

"He's mad! Not quite a Red Redemptionist, of course, but he won't shut up about the Creed. I heard enough of that in the Schola as a girl!"

-

Everyone interviewed agrees that Robert Scullion ('Brother Robert', many of them call him.) is, in fact, very religious. Apparently he tithes almost all of his wealth to the Ecclesiarchy, or he gives it to the poor, or... well, it seems to be that the others think him, near enough, a bloody saint, even if they don't particularly like spending too much time with him.

Apparently, which you soon find out to be true, he has a fair amount of bionics, including a bionic arm, earned when serving as a preacher alongside the Maccabean Janissaries.

-

On the second morning, more individuals are spoken to.

The director, Sergei Riefenstahl, is more than a little evasive. It's obvious that his debts bother him. He makes excuses about not paying tithes (even though there is no legal obligation to do so), and changes the subject onto taxes and similar (which he claims to pay in full). These claims mostly match up with his debt file, although he is very obviously trying to paint himself in a positive light here.

He claims that he really doesn't want to do this job - the script is bloody awful, and he's not allowed to alter it much. Contractual obligation, apparently. He complains about it at length, in fact,

"Look - I frickin' hate this show. Don't quote me in the press or anything, I'll frickin' deny it, but it sucks. I don't know who they got writing this crap, but it's awful. They've got some idiot monk acting, since he's a war hero, and fair enough to him, he really is, but... well, he can't act! He's useless!

I'm only doing this so I can afford to make 'Arbitrator Foreboding Returns: Judgement on Malfi', since I want to produce it myself."

-

Last to be questioned is the lead actor, Robert Scullion, in the early afternoon of the second day.

Robert Scullion is the last of the main actors to be interviewed. He's very humble, and gives perfect answers to every one of the questions, at least when it comes to piety. He apparently tithes thirty percent to various missionary concerns, thirty percent to the 'Imperial Guard Veterans Association', and thirty percent to various concerns alleviating poverty. He keeps ten percent for himself, much of which seems to go to his family off-planet.

Some of his answers are interesting, though. He believes the portrayal of the nobility is a touch too positive, but he reasons that this is because Smiling Drusus is owned by a noble.

His favourite show is 'Songs of Exaltation', a musical vid show of hymns, because he claims to have seen enough violence with the Guard, and he, interestingly, claims to think that his own acting in 'Maccabean Cathedral' isn't particularly worthy of praise.

He thinks very highly of the Adeptus Mechanicus, it seems, flexing his bionic arm when they're mentioned,

"The Adeptus Mechanicus? Can't sing their praises high enough, ma'am.

I had to face down a Meganob, you see, so that the Colonel could vox coordinates to our Basilisks out back. It would have killed him, and everything would have gone to hell, right?

Anyway, I was never much of a swordsman, but, well, the Emperor protects the faithful. Power claw didn't breach my Rosarius, and then He On Terra guided my eviscrator into that monster's heart.

Of course, the bastard thing fell over onto me and crushed my right arm. The Magos who put me back together said that if I'd had proper armour I'd be 'fully functional' or such. He wasn't best impressed with our lack of equipment but I reckon what we had did what was needed, eh?

He was a good fella, him. I wonder what he's up to these days."

--

For the most part, Sarah figures that the majority of stories are largely true. Marcus Bridges is obviously lying about his drug habit, of course. He's a complete pot-head.

Riefenstahl has been largely honest, although, checking with his files, it seems he may have fiddled some taxes. He probably owes the planetary government a fair amount of money, and likely owes the Administratum funds, too.

Maria Florin appears to be largely honest, too, although she seems to have an over-inflated opinion of her own talents.

Scullion seems completely above board.

[ellna]

Later back at the hotel room Sarah thoughtfully chews on the 'noodles in a box with assorted meat' washing it down with a sickeningly sweet beverage. She has changed out of the scholarly outfit, wearing simple street clothes, to aid her in purchasing street food for the cell. Her false lens sits on the table next to Wrath, which never strayed far from her reach. Her angry, red, bionic eye roves the room questing for some point of interest to fix itself upon, meanwhile her mossy organic eye remained focused paranoidly on Marcus.

"So what's the next step? The interviews didn't turn up anything particularly interesting. The lead is a saint in the making, Riefenstahl probably owes the Administratum a great deal in fiddled taxes another useful road to apply pressure to the man and one of the camera men is a obscura-fiend. The scriptwriter, however, it doesn't seem like any of the grunts know who he is. So Yarach did ya' find anything yet in the expenses or... ?"

I'm assuming that we've finished in Smiling Drusus Productions for the day and have returned to the hotel.

Sarah will have uploaded pictures of each interviewed member onto her data-slate along with their responses and her personnel notes on each member. And reclaimed her data-slate from Argentius. And back the transcripts/notes/pictures available to the rest of the cell to review.

[Urist]

Upon returning to the hotel room, Yarach sits down to analyze the data he'd claimed from Smiling Drusus, prepared for a long night. Based on what he had overheard, and Sarah's briefing, he thought that it was likely that the financial records were the missing link.


"Conclusion: this unit has found nothing yet. The only unit with probable knowledge of function: scriptwriting is the director. Did this unit manage to interview this one?"

He copies the data to anyone's datapad who cares to have it, and then grabs a cup of recaff. He imagined this was gonna be a long night...


Logic to decipher these damnable records:
[roll0] TN: ? (55)

[ellna]

Sarah settles in for a long night of number crunching and data-sifting, with a weary resentment. She accepts a copy of the data from Yarach, and begins to flick through it herself, flitting from column to column looking for anything that stands out.

"Yes, I did interview the Director. Riefenstahl. From what he said, I believe he does not know who wrote the script. He didn't seem to think much of their talents. The noble running the show may know however... Where the money flows, don't step on delicate toes."

Sarah doesn't smirk, but her tone heavily hints at one, she shoots a look at Argentius.

Sarah uses, Scrutiny: [roll0]
And I guess Logic as well though I doubt I'll pass the roll untrained.[roll1]

Edit: Nooooope, Sarah licks the data-slate and attempt to use it as a hat. ;)

[bluntpencil]

The leads appear to run thin, and the producer, it seems, is very rarely on set. Apparently she's very rarely home, spending more time at obscura dens in the entertainment district, smoking, drinking, and trying to spot the next big thing, when it comes to talent or a production.

[ellna]

Frustrated Sarah sets down the data-slate and calms her nerves before she crushes the tedious thing. In years past she wouldn't of even glanced at such documentation and her inexperience in bureaucratic literacy showed. Despite a thorough inspection Sarah had gleaned nothing. Perhaps Yarach had fared better, but she doubted it from watching him.

"Well, I've not learned anything from all these numbers... You Yarach?"

Sarah resisted the urge to rub the bridge of her nose, it would of been a futile effort anyway with the unfeeling mask she now wore.

"Nothing, zip, nadda, ziltch. So, what next? We could continue surveillance, but I doubt that would turn up the leads we want. So that leaves Susanna Jullietta. The producer, apparently she's often around the obscura dens in the entertainment district. Maybe that is where she discovered the writer? An insane mind can hide behind the smog of mind-altering substances, yes? At least we should check it out, a few inquiries perhaps some surveillance of the lady, herself. It could prove useful, but I fear a direct questioning might be required to reveal this hidden writer, in the end."

[bluntpencil]

The Golden Chrysanthemum - a more upmarket den for obscura-smokers, frequented by bohemian so-called artistic types and their hipster hangers on.

A women in the palest of makeup greets the cell as they arrive, her purple kimono carefully pressed and elegantly decorated with golden embroidery.

"Welcome to the Golden Chrysanthemum, esteemed guests. Might one enquire as to whom your sponsor is?"

Beyond her, the cell see a very tastefully decorated lounge, with a myriad of well-tended flowers and plants, and, of course, drapes of brightly coloured silk. The scent, only just noticeable, but definitely there is a subtly pleasant smell of flowery perfumes.

[Urist]

Yarach wrinkles his nose slightly, glad that his face and the disgust on it is not conveyed to the woman standing in front of him. As she inquires after their sponsor, he lowers his hood and flashes a positively charming smile, the effect not dampened by the finely-wrought grill of an integrated rebreather on his throat. When he speaks, he is sure to tamp down the static normally present in his voice, doing his best to sound as unaugmented as possible. As he speaks, he turns around to speak to the party, delight evident in the cadence of his speech.


"Ah, splendid! This place is as beautiful as you led me to believe! I do think we'll find what we're looking for here."

Turning back to the hostess, he smiles again, bowing respectfully, although not obsequiously.

"My compatriots and I are here hoping to converse with the regulars of your fine establishment as regarding the making of films, and I have been lead to believe that this is THE place for the artistically talented to while away their time and recharge their creative minds. And from what I can see already, I cannot imagine such a reputation is at all far from the truth!"
If pressed, Yarach will not name a specific sponsor, but will allow that they are not exactly here on Adeptus business.


Yarach is playing a game of "How much of the truth can I creatively use to construct a lie without ever having to actually deceive", and all of the stuff he's said is entirely true, if a little overly flattering.
Rolling Charm: [roll0] TN:?(Base 40)
...Apparently Yarach is not particularly charming today.

[bluntpencil]

The hostess purses her lips. She's obviously unimpressed. Still, she lets the cell enter the establishment.

"Of course, good sir. In fact, we have a private room for esteemed guests such as yourselves! You should find our prices most accommodating, I believe."

She then leads the group into a small, discrete room, decorated lavishly with silks, and carrying a subtle, tasteful, scent of incense. She retreats to the door, waiting upon you as you look at the menu.



She's obviously putting you away from the other guests, so as not to disturb them.


She's giving you the expensive option, in order to shorten your stay.

[ellna]

Sarah drops herself on a lavishly upholstered seat, a hand trailing down the silks. She picks up a menu and gives it a brief glance before ordering. She selects enough for the entire cell and dismisses the hostess, with a dispassionate, vapid smile. Beneath her false face, Sarah watches like a predator for the woman to leave them alone.

So, my current plan is to sneak around inside the golden orchid once the hostess has gone and locate Juilietta. If someone else wants to speak to the hostess before she's dismissed... or get rid of them in a more spectacular fashion feel free.

[bluntpencil]

Okay, only Sarah is doing anything...

The maitre d' leaves slowly, her silken dress lazily swishing about her as Sarah narrows her eyes, waiting for an opportunity to take a peak around.

Sarah is able to sneak off without too much trouble, of course.


Stealth and Awareness (search) checks please!