Thrones To Be Had IC

[positivespace]

Docking at Port Wander isn't uncommon. The asteroid fields, the light of Rubycon II, the endless queries and hails from Chartist ships, Rogue Traders, Navy Vessels, and the every overbearing Imperial Authority, it's all standard, really. You've gotten used to it by now, one hail blends into another, one prow is mistaken for that of its sister ship, it becomes almost tedious compared to the adventures beyond this famed station of passage, though you know that's a bad attitude to take to any spaceport.

One voice stands out in the din, though, pointed out because of it's unusual 'accent'.

It's a man by the name of Orbest Dray, he knows the dynasty's code, and he says he has a gift for you from your great grandfather, one that would bring you great glory and profit. he requests your audience, in private, by a food stall in the Court of the Dead.

[Ionbound]

Altherial barely bothers hiding her disgust at the Mon'Keigh station. She looks around, combat training kicking in as she looks for any places ambushers could hide, or, if they were as foolish as she hoped and expected from a mon'keigh, the potential attackers themselves.

Awareness Check: [roll0] vs. 45

[Donan]

"Interesting..." Aventus taps a finger lightly against the message he as given from Orbest Dray. He ponders, then looks to the ship's arch militant. "Master Jakkal, be so good as to provide a suitable escort to clear the way too avoid any trouble we might find in such a lively place. Mistress Altherial, this Court's a busy place. I'd like you at my side, I'll provide you suitable adornments to wear."

He nods to their ship's missionary. "You'll act as my herald in this, Father?"

He leans forward to tap one of the communication controls in his console. "Steward. Ensure the standard food and essential supplies are loaded. Contact me if anything additional is required."

Altherial receives a fine cloak and hood! Also, can I get a name for Recaiden's missionary? ^^

[TechnoScrabble]

"By hyoor kahm-mand, cap'n," Jakkal snaps his sloppy excuse for a salute and sets off down the corridors.

A proper guard for the captain needs to be dressed impressively, and fight even more so. A few of Commissar Rain's better armsmen, to provide front line support, maybe some Sisters of Battle to keep anyone from questioning the ex-Inquisitor...two of the ratlings and Jakkal would cover from the rafters, of course. Perhaps one of the corsairs could be convinced to come along, provide symmetry with Altherial.

[Ionbound]

Altherial sighs at the cloak and says, "If I must. No doubt if I didn't, fools would try to take 'the Dread Xenos'' head to show off to their friends. And while I could easily slaughter them, no doubt you don't want a fight."

[Donan]

Aventus nodded. "It would certainly gain us attention, but I would prefer to avoid a full diplomatic incident at this point." He noted dryly.

[positivespace]

"Aye, Captain!" the voice of the steward barks back through the console, "Waste is just about done offloading, checkups are looking swell!"

Assembling a party is easy, when it's in the name of the Lord Captain. Jakkal's social skills may be rough, but his rank is respected and it's hard not to appreciate an emperor-fearing consummate killer being on your side instead of the enemy's. Six junior officers at arms are outfitted with flak armor in the Lord Captain's colors and lasguns with overcharge capacitors and sent to accompany him. The Canoness has her own 'understanding' of Jakkal, at least preferring the Emperor worshipping loose psyker to the xenos witch, and sends three sisters for Aventus's sake. Sister Almatia, a Sister Famulous in her dark armored robes, and the Sisters Therese and Faixa in their power armor. The corsairs deny any offer, practically spitting at Jakkal. They are corsairs of the Undying Dawn and Altherial...isn't. Plus, they see the murderous Jakkal as a chaos incident waiting to happen. Tyrell sends two of his best shots with Jakkal, both equipped with chameleoline and sniper rifles, and makes friendly small talk suggesting he could use more recaff and dumdum rounds.

Altherial sees many hiding places in the rafters and stalls and vaunted ceilings of the Port. Port Wander is cleaner and safer than most, especially near the Expanse, but it is, after all, a port. Beggars and scammers and thieves keep a safe distance, knowing better than to mess with an entourage of a rogue trader, but all heads turn at least once as you pass. Rogue traders are something to witness, those accompanied by Ecclesiarchal agents even more so.

[TechnoScrabble]

Jakkal takes the two ratlings up amongst the rafters, catwalks, and higher shop roofs, keeping pace with the rest of the entourage at an angle they can provide good covering fire from. He keeps his pistols holstered, instead keeping his hellgun at hand, preferring its longer range for this task. He attempts to keep out of sight, having left his flashier accoutrements back on the ship.


[roll0][roll1] vs 55+30 for shadowing/silent move

[Recaiden]

"Of course, Captain."

After waiting for that ridiculous accent to gather a guard, the missionary walks near the front of the entourage, robes flowing, ecclesiarchal staff in one hand and a book of orthodoxy under the other arm. Any mission the crew undertakes, no matter how trivial, should be seen as a holy cause blessed by the Emperor. And it'll help make up for the presence of the misunderstood xeno back there, should anyone try anything.


Name used is Ophilia.

I don't think there's anything I should be rolling yet, but I'm rusty in this system still.

[Donan]

Aventus keeps five members of his guard with him, along with the three battle sisters. The other five however, are sent ahead to check the meeting place and keep an eye on the crowd. Between them and the snipers overhead, the Captain feels confident that the meeting can be controlled.

Precautions in place, he proudly approaches the food stall where Orbest Dray asked to meet.

[Ionbound]

Cloak now covering her exotic features and armor, Altherial accompanies Aventus, always on guard for any beings that might attack.

[positivespace]

The Court of the Dead is first and foremost, a market. Crowded and stinking of humanity's highest and lowest-mostly the lowest. Your party stands out above the rest here, both in stature and attire. Even visiting navy officers on their off-duty hours stand clear of you and bow their heads.

A man in rags is waiting for you, a number of trinkets on ratty cords swinging from his neck, five of your armsmen standing around him and drawing stray eyes from the crowd. Though dressed like a beggar, he stands like a proud voidfarer, and as you approach, welcomes you to Port Wander in your dynasty's tongue and offers up a battered seal of your warrant's emblem.

"In the Expanse as it is on Terra, Lord Captain, may you ever rule. This Warrant goes farther back than your ship, I'd reckon. Orbest Dray, served on the Emperor's Testament under Vos Karlorn, part of your great-great-grandaddy's fleet, if you'd believe it, m'lord."

If allowed, he goes on to explain that they were lost in a warp storm when they heard a distress signal, and following it, found themselves face to face with the fabled Righteous Path, a treasure ship from the Drusian Crusades. Karlorn went back to Port Wander to try and find the Warrant Holder of the time, but they were nowhere to be found, and after leaving Orbest Dray on Port Wander with the map for safe keeping, left to find them and never returned. Sister Alsatia listens to him carefully, jotting everything down on a scrolling dataslate.

The story of the Righteous Path begins over two and a half
thousand years ago, during the time of Drusus and the great
Angevin Crusade. The stalwart forces of the Imperium were
sweeping across the region of space that would one day become
the Calixis sector, pushing the enemies of the God-Emperor
before them and bringing light to worlds lost for centuries
to darkness. Among their number was Lorcanus Ryn, a great
warlord and free-captain, filled with bloodlust and greed
but also an unwavering faith in Drusus and the Emperor.
At the helm of his grand-cruiser, the Righteous Path,
he was the scourge of a hundred worlds, carving
out a bloody path before him as the crusade
conquered world after world.
One such world was Krystallian. Recorded as the 73rd
world brought to the light of the Emperor by the crusade,
it was (so the story goes) an ancient colony of man which
had long ago fallen to the heretical worship of false gods and
the teachings of treacherous prophets known as the Talisar.
Covered in glittering cloud temples, raised by the Talisar to
the glory of the Myriad of Faces, it was a world of immense
wealth and blasphemous grandeur. It was, however, no match
for the might of the Imperial armies led by Lorcanus Ryn. The
warlord descended on Krystallian, filled with the righteous
wrath of the Emperor, sweeping away a thousand years of
civilisation in three days of fire and blood. When the killing
was done, and the corpse counters began gathering up the
detritus of war, Lorcanus Ryn marvelled at the riches he had
won. Never before had he seen such naked wealth; temples
packed high with artefacts of rare and wondrous make, statues
gilt with gems and glittering with gold, and shadowed vaults
of forgotten and forbidden archeotech.
Here the story varies from teller to teller. Some say the
wealth of Krystallian was more than rare metals and precious
stones, but that its people were also a prize; bred from a stock
of pure genetic material and spared from centuries of warptaint,
they were bundled into stasis coffins and taken away to be trained as elite warriors or highborn servants. Others whisper that Krystallian was settled during the Dark Age of Technology and still harboured devices from that time within its cities and temples, secrets worth more than the raw mineral wealth or combined populations of a hundred worlds.
Whatever the form of Krystallian’s wealth, Lorcanus was not content merely to sample it, nor did he trust his fellow crusaders to carry it away. So he set about filling the Righteous Path from stern to ram. He tore out gun decks and launch bays, marooned thousands of his crew and stripped away the vessel’s innards until she was bursting with plunder. The warlord then vanished into the warp and from the pages of history.
Over the centuries there have been many expeditionsnto find the Righteous Path. At the time of its disappearance, members of the crusade quested after the lost vessel. Later, free-traders, adventurers and Imperial servants have all tried to find its resting place. Many believe the vessel is lost forever, sunken beneath the tides of the warp or smashed to pieces and scattered across space and time. Krystallian, however, was rumoured to have once existed on the trailing edge of what is now the Calixis Sector only a short span of light-years from the Maw. This has led some old void-farers to speculate that Lorcanus Ryn and his ship were caught in the tides of the storms that plague the Koronus Passage and dragged out deep into the Expanse. Many believe it to be lost forever…

Up above it all, Jakkal has a good view of Port Wander's vast throngs of people, more than should probably be packed on a station. It's a total hazard, really. Up here is where many of the shadier deals go down, hidden by the steam and smoke of the sustainment vents, you witness at least two muggings and a murder.

Then you notice someone else seems to be watching Aventus from up here. A pale woman with long, wet, straggly strands of hair watches through a photo-visor, dressed in violet scales of xeno mesh armor beneath a leather corset, gold-laced and silver-etched arm guards, and what appears to be a long skirt made up of prayer parchment. A bolt pistol sits maglocked at her side, and a gleaming black raven sits on her shoulder, the two murmuring between each other before it flies off.

[TechnoScrabble]

Jakkal holds a hand back behind him, open palm signalling the ratlings to stay back, handing one his hellgun. He slinks up and around, keeping to the shadows, and slowly unrolls a strip of his det-tape. Slowly approaching, he extends his arms carefully out, then lunges forward, wrapping the silvery explosive-adhesive around his prey's neck! He tries to yank her down to a more easily controllable level, snarling, "Hwahn wrong move, ahnd Hy set ovv the det-khordt! Hwy are hyu spyink hahn the Kahp-tahn?"

[Donan]

Unaware of the excitement happening elsewhere, Aventus listens to Orbest's story with an air of cultured interest as he takes it in. "A grand tale Master Dray, and you're owed a debt if you have waited for us with such resolve and patience. My sympathies for the loss of your friend, may he find peace with the Emperor."

The Captain pauses at those words, but then carries on. "You're welcome aboard my vessel, along with the map you've kept for so long. I believe the least I can offer you is a hot meal and a soft bed as thanks."

Along with some thorough but non damaging mind probing from an Astropath. To both ensure Orbest was speaking the truth, and secondly, to ensure his mind hadn't been altered to believe said truth. Mind games were an useful tool. Literally.

[positivespace]

"Thank you kindly, m'lord. I've been waiting over a hundred years to pass this on," Orbest pulls an object out from beneath his tattered jacket. It resembles a small casket crafted of fine black and red gold, and as it recognizes Aventus's DNA, it clicks and hisses, opening to reveal a small, lightless black crystal nestled in red cushions. Altherial can feel the psychic power rolling off of it, and everyone can recognize it as a mnemolith, a memory crystal.

As it opens, though, a gleaming black cyber-raven swoops down, cawing madly, and grabs the crystal up, the weight making it bob up and down as it flies off above the crowd!

Jakkal

The woman goes down easily, your attack knocking the breath out of her. You feel her powerful psychic presence try to assault your own, but it slips and slides over your mind, unable to get a grip. Some faint light flashes through her before she sends it elsewhere, and you get a glimpse through your contact. Stars zipping by at intense speed, a feral planet, the passage into the Expanse. It's a treasure map!

"Don't!" she says in a small, weak voice, "I just wanted to look at the map!"

It's at this time you notice men in featureless grey flak armor and preysense visors circling Aventus's entourage from the outer edges of the crowd, shoving people out of the way with their shotguns as they close in. A few hoist back grey marked cylinders and launch them forward just as your ratlings notice and begin to take aim...

Everyone

Smoke grenades spiral through the air as the raven flies away, one rattling off of a sister's armor, and a shotgun blast about thirty meters distant sends the crowd panicking, forgetting all about avoiding the Rogue Trader as everyone runs this way and that, trampling each other in their attempts to escape.

(One round to act until the smoke gives -20 to all ballistic skill tests without preysense, the crowd halves movement. A -10 awareness test with three degrees of success or more will reveal the badguys closing in.)

[Donan]

"I ****ing hate this place... Sisters! Protect Orbest!" Aventus drops into a crouch as he casts off his robe, revealing form fitting, darkly reflective armour underneath. He draws his hellgun from a holster on his back, priming the weapon. One finger taps his microbead.

++Extra rations for the first one to bring that creature down! Altherial, I trust you can recover that crystal?++

Them's my actions for this first round. Synskin now active. Aventus fails to locate the attackers.

[TechnoScrabble]

"Hahstilez hahll around, Kahp-tqhn, Hy've cap-toored their hweetch!' Jakkal says into his microbead, "Keep hyoor head down, suh-poor-teeve fire eencomink!"

He sets himself about removing the woman's bolt pistol and det-taping her hands behind her back and her ankles together. Can't risk her fighting back. He sticks a strip over her mouth for good measure.

"Open fire hahn the hostiles," he instructs the ratlings, "Peeck hyoor targetz."

[Ionbound]

Altherial simply nods and runs towards the raven, trying to snatch it out of the air and rip the crystal out of it's claws.

Acrobatics check: [roll0] vs. 49

[Recaiden]

Ophilia also fails to locate the attacks, but the cyber-raven is still in clear sight.
"Every time, it's like this."

Casting aside the staff, she flips her laspistol to hand and fires off a shot, hoping to down the creature before it gets into the crowd.


Ready, basic attack.
I think initiative test? [roll0]+3
Ballistics [roll1] vs. 32
Dice don't like me.

[positivespace]

The Court of The Dead quickly turns into a madhouse, though slaughterhouse would also be an accurate term. The ratlings fire true, one target clutching his arm in silent surprise as blood sprays from the new wound, the other stumbling and clutching at his chest as the air is knocked from his body. Your own armsmen seek cover behind stalls, pushing through the crowds. Three fire at assumed enemies, and two of the Port's people fall to lasfire before being trampled or carried off.

Altheria fails to catch the wretched raven, instead falling on top of some young man who catches a glimpse of her face and cries "Xenos! Xenos witch!", but Othilia's laspistol blast, while harmlessly passing the bird, startles it into dropping the crystal on top of a stall about 17 meters away.

Sister Therese opens fire on a sighted foe, her bolter barking death but spitting wide, two of the bolts disappearing into the panicked throngs as they choke on smoke. Faixa moves to Aventus with Almatia, and they try to lead their charge into cover, Faixa using her power armor enhanced strength to push the crowds out of their way.

Your attackers can be seen now, eight men in nondescript gray flak armor and black prey sense goggles picking you out through the smoke as they approach. Four get into an angle to fire their combat shotguns, and large clumps of people find themselves riddled with flechettes, one passing through two merchants before pinging uselessly off of Aventus's leg. One of your assailants actually manages to hit one of your armsmen, the flechettes biting deep into his back and drawing blood, but its nothing life threatening yet.

Jakkal

The witch puts up little resistance while you bind her, whimpering, but as you finish, three men dressed the same as your Captain's attackers down below round the corner and bring their shotguns up practically into your face, more than close enough to be lethally effective.

"Call off your midgets, and don't make any sudden moves," one says with a predator's grin, "We've got you for guts."

[Ionbound]

Altherial delivers a quick rabbit punch to the young man's head, unamused by the namecalling. When she sees the crystal drop, she runs for it, trying to catch it before it hits the ground.

I'm vaguely afraid to try another Acro check, but...: [roll0] vs. 49

[TechnoScrabble]

"Hwahnna bet?" Jakkal's hand whips back and he draws the Carnodon, flicking the red dot sight on as he brings it up and fires in semi auto, seeking to put a bullet in each one of the armsmen.

[roll0][roll1] vs 42+5 gun bonus, +10 semi auto, +30 presumably point blank, +10 miu

Possible damage [roll2], [roll3], [roll4], all impact with 2 pen, righteous fury on 9 or 10

Possible organgrinder damage [roll5], [roll6], [roll7], all rending, ignore armour and toughness

[roll8]+10 agility bonus x unnatural speed, +1 gun bonus

[Recaiden]

"Stand aside, in the Emperor's name!"
Ophilia shouts and brandishes the book of scripture at the crowd between them and the stall. In such a panic, they likely won't think to listen, but it's no delay to add words.
This is not ideal. The ambushers can see them, and they can scarcely see back to aim.
She holsters the laspistol and takes up the staff again before charging the nearest of the eight.


Test of Fellowship since I've no skill in Command or Intimidate, and if this can't be done here, just ignore.
[roll0] vs. 36,

Actions of Ready and Move towards them.

[Donan]

"I'm fine! Go keep Orbest alive. We need him." He glanced at the sisters moving to support him, sending off a brst of fire at the attackers and grimacing as his shots went wide.

Keeping low, Aventus continued to move through the smoke cover to draw nearer to the enemy.

[positivespace]

Jakkal

Three shots ring out, three shots land on target. The first finds his visor cracked, the glass from it and the shrapnel fromnthe organgrinders combining to peel his face from his skull like a ripe Ploin, enough blood spraying out to splatter the floor from beneath his helmet as he falls, unconscious and dying if not dead. The second suffers a worse fate, everything above his shoulders and a bit below them turning into red mist and chunky salsa as it is torn back off of his body, the gore coating the witch's face and eliciting a panicked scream from her. The third round strikes its target in the arm, but this victim is no better off, everything below his shoulder splintering and flying about with such force that some pieces bounce off Jakkal's armor.

Two men hidden nearby, their backup, break cover and flee, one throwing down his weapon in the hopes it will mark him a noncombatant.

Ground Team

The two wounded attackers turn to flee, one weaving through the crowd as a ratlings shot flies wide above him, the other unfortunately thrown against a stall ad a second round to the chest ends him. Therese stops firing to grab Orbest and drag the cursing voidsman to cover as Aventus fires over the heads of the approaching attackers. Almatia and Faixa fire, a flurry of bolts disappearing into the crowd before popping, but one foe now sports a badly bloodied arm, testament to the ferocity of bolter weapons.

Altherial punches a young man in the face, bruising him, but fails to catch the crystal as it tumbles down. It remains on the stall for now.

Lasfire flies in all directions, cutting down any who oppose the red hot wrath of Mechanicus design. A few faceless passerby fall, but the crowd damages itself more than the guns do.

More enemy armsmen start to appear at the edges of the court, some throwing smoke, two knocking large groups of citizens over with blasts from their shotguns, flechettes cutting through unarmored flesh. Those already in the fray move in and start firing at a faster pace, the clink of falling shells and clack of cycling bolts joining the roar of gunfire. Flechettes fly over Altherial's head as she falls onto another panicked beggar, and as Ophilia pushes through the crowd towards the enemy, three clusters of flechettes striking her, one carrying with it a bit of gore from the first victim it passed through.

(One body hit 13i pen 2, one 3i pen 2, and an arm hit 9i pen 2, all before armor or TB are brought into play)

[Ionbound]

Ground Team

Altherial swears as she hears the first gunshot and flechette whiz past her head, but she determinedly keeps running for the crystal, unwilling to let it fall into enemy hands.

Ag Check to pick up this damn crystal: [roll0] vs. 49

[Donan]

The situation's bad. Civilians are going to end up dead in increasingly large numbers if this keeps up and the enemy soldiers are just cannon fodder in the employ of whoever their enemy is. Killing them serves little useful purpose. Retrieving Orbest and the crystal however, does.

++Altherial. Soon as you have that crystal withdraw. Rest of you, suppressive fire, regroup and withdraw. Keep Orbest with you and punch out of this mess.++

He punctuates his words with another burst of auto fire, this time scattering it around the feet of a nearby group of enemy soldiers.

Using suppressing fire to give them a -20 willpower test to not be pinned. Making a -40 BS test on the sliver of chance he actually hits anyone. Crit needed.

[roll0]

[TechnoScrabble]

"Shaht ahp, hweel you?" Jakkal snarls at the witch as he aims at the fleeing men, red dot focusing on the one still carrying his shotgun.

[roll0][roll1] vs 42 + 5 gun +10 half aim +10 red dot sight +10 assuming short range +10 weapon mastery pistol

[roll2] pen 2 impact damage

Organgrinders [roll3]

[Recaiden]

Altherial is cursing, huh?
She's not the one getting shot by these things. Ophilia grits her teeth as the weapons cut even into her armored flesh - nothing that can't be fixed up with a medkit later on. And an order to retreat, is it? Cowardly, but it is for the protection of their contact, and not merely to save themselves some trouble.
She brandishes her staff at the armsmen, touching her other hand to the base of her throat, causing a barely perceptible field to flicker into existence around her. Honestly probably should have activated that before charging into battle, but Ophilia has rarely been accused of good planning and awareness. Only slowly does the missionary withdraw, hoping to draw fire away from Altherial until the crystal has been recovered.

Activate force field, move back, no tests?
Sheet link placed in my post on page 1 of the OoC

[positivespace]

Jakkal's red dot sight illuminates the man's arm for a split second before it is ripped free of the man, the momentum spinning him around and throwing him off the catwalk and down to the floor below. The unarmed one, seeing the futility in running, drops to his knees and throws his hands up into the air.

"Don't shoot! I give!"

Ground Team

The crowd starts to clear just in time for you to make your leave, though the ground is thick with the bodies of the dead and injured. Altherial reaches up to the top of the stall and grabs the black crystal, and a vision flashes through her eyes. Barrelling through the expanse, bright stars, a mass of bone and black crystal writhing in a dimly lit room.

The ratlings fire, one goes wide, another hits an approaching armsmen with such force that he slams into a stall, which collapses on top of him, pinning him. Almatia grabs Orbest and makes a run for the exit, but as the enemy fires, she takes a pair of flechettes through her side, a bit of blood selling up through the armored robes. She grits her teeth and continues on, her Sisters loosing another burst of fire that batters an enemy until he is forced to retreat, barely alive.

Aventus's fire causes one armsman to dive for cover, and Ophilia draws enemy fire, two bursts of flechettes sizzling against her forcefield. Las and flechette fire are exchanged in a storm, and by the end, the crowd is gone, four enemies are retreating, one is screaming and clutching at a swiftly sublimating leg, and all are looking worse for the wear, some even gaining the common sense to take cover.

[Ionbound]

Altherial's eyes widen, even as she runs back towards the exit, unleashing a withering hail of laser fire from her sunrifle at the attackers.

Half Move towards the exit, half to Fire at Full Auto at the nearest enemies, 8 shots:

[roll0] vs. 43
[roll1] Energy Damage

[roll2] vs. 43
[roll3] Energy Damage

[roll4] vs. 43
[roll5] Energy Damage

[roll6] vs. 43
[roll7] Energy Damage

[roll8] vs. 43
[roll9] Energy Damage

[roll10] vs. 43
[roll11] Energy Damage

[roll12] vs. 43
[roll13] Energy Damage

[roll14] vs. 43
[roll15] Energy Damage

[Recaiden]

The eldar's got it. Time to get the hell out of here. Ophilia races back towards where they came, trying to keep near to yet out of the way of the Sisters as they all make a retreat.

[TechnoScrabble]

Jakkal levels the Carnodon at the surrendering man's forehead, spinning the cylinder around and around, finger tensing on the trigger.

After a moment, he groans and pulls back.

"Kahp-tahn's gahnna hwant you ah-liffe, Hy'd bet."

He sets about thing the man up with det-tap, answering any attempt to escape or fight back with a stern pistol-whipping.

[Donan]

With the party drawing closer together, Aventus fired off another burst of suppressive fire to keep their enemies on the defensive. The situation seemed to be under better control now, however.

++Jakkal, in need of support to move those two?++

Another burst of suppressive fire at the enemies.

[roll0]

[positivespace]

The ratlings fire another volley, and one of your foes goes down, clutching the new hole in his chest. The withering hail of fire laid down by your armsmen and the sisters covers Almatia and Orbests's escape, and opens up a path for yours. With the crowd out of the way, they really open up, and by the end five of the six enemies lucky enough to be alive are leaving, with the sixth pinned down by Aventus. Sirens can be heard approaching, warning of the coming of station Arbites, and trapping the fleeing armsmen between a rock and a hard place.

Jakkal

The armsman refrains from putting up a fight, sweating hevaily and shivering, clearly terrified by Jakkal's talent for murder.

[TechnoScrabble]

++I've got this one, Captain.++

Jakkal focuses for a moment and activates the chem-glands situated throughout his body, specifically the one near his brain, suffusing himself with a chemical very near in composition to White Void. He kneels down and taps into the warp, invisible tendrils of power extending from him, and wraps one of the aetheric appendages around the armsman and returning to the ratlings to wrap a second around the witch. The third sharpens its point to a blade and keeps carefully posed, ready to slit either's throat should they become an issue.

"Arbites eekomink, sahm-hwahn should hide the xenos."

[Donan]

Aventus nods in agreement, nodding at Altherial. "They're trigger happy, and it'd make my life easier if you didn't need to kill some of them. But, ah." He holds his hand out. "The crystal, if you please?" His voice raises. "Stand to! Let's show the Arbites who we are when they come through those doors!"

He senses an argument incoming and gestures towards Jakkal. "Bring them over here please, I don't want the Arbites trying to snatch them."

He considers, then opens a channel to the Dagger. ++Anything you can get me on the Arbite chain of command here?++

[Ionbound]

Altherial swallows and says, "I think it's best if I keep the crystal for now. Something is very wrong with it, and if it can send unbidden visions to me, gods know what it'll do to an untrained human."

[Donan]

Aventus chuckles. "You need not worry for me, but thank you for the concern. Orbest seems well enough, and I don't qualify as untrained. But we don't have time to talk, the Arbites will be here in seconds. Pass me the crystal and conceal yourself and we'll settle this messy affair."

[Ionbound]

Altherial shakes her head and says, "Trust me. You want as few people as possible coming into contact with this."

[Donan]

He waves a hand. "We'll discuss this later, but keep it if you insist. Keep out of sight for the moment regardless."

[Ionbound]

Altherial nods, slides the crystal into her pocket, and vanishes in the direction of the ship.

Of course, knowing my luck, she'll be super obvious, but...

Concealment: [roll0] vs. 25
Silent Move: [roll1] vs. 25

[positivespace]

"Marshall Dhorin is the local Judge for the Provost, Captain," a comms officer responds, "His immediate subordinates are...Proctors O'Magney and De'az. Unless you would like to contact the Navy Provost or the Commissariat?"

There's a great deal of shouting from the direction your attackers ran, and the sound of a single, thunderous gunshot.

"By the Command of Imperial Law, halt!"

After a few moments, a man rounds the corner, massive in presence and in size. The stark blue-gray of painted ceramite armor overlayed with etchings of silver and gold, the iconography of the Imperium, books of law and an oversized pistol on his belt, a smoking Arbites Shotgun in his hand. It seems as if Marshal Dhorin has come to see you himself, and shortly following the faceless lawman are several black armored Arbites following him, shoving the captured foes into a groundcar with their shock mauls.

The appearance of the Arbites sends the scavengers who've already arrived scurrying, and the sisters have started to sift through the fallen stationgoers and tended to those still alive, praying for them. Almatia comes to Aventus' side with Orbest, waving away medical attention and wrapping her side up tightly with a scrap of her robes.

Dhorin looks over the area, lethally silent, holding one hand up to stop anyone who attempts to talk to him, before finally he rolls his thick jaw around and speaks.

"This is a bit of a mess, sir."

The way he says 'sir' holds nothing but threat.

Jakkal

The armsman panics and squirms as invisible arms wrap around him and lift him into the air, and the witch, still covered in blood, whimpers as you come near and hoist her up as well. One of the ratlings gestures down below.

"Look, Chief. The big man hisself came on through."

Altherial

Your flight goes unnoticed by the Arbites, as far as you can tell, though several of the underdeckers and scavengers make a note of clearing out of your way as you leave. One watches you from a distance, a close eye kept on you from beneath their messy cloak, but as soon as you could possibly get a better look at them they've disappeared.

[Donan]

Aventus simply smiles, warm, friendly and acting the part of a man who doesn't notice the implied threat.

"It was touch and go for a moment there Marshal Dhorin, but your timing is impeccable. I should introduce myself, of course.

Lord Captain Aventus Hearth, Rogue Trader and Captain of the Dagger of Faith. It seems your men have the situation under full control Marshal.

Let me extend my invitation to join us aboard my vessel and we can discuss this unfortunate happening over some fine grox. My dynasty will of course offer any due recompose for today's happenings."

[TechnoScrabble]

Jakkal looks down at the group and nods, debating whether or not to join them with the Arbites there. Unsanctioned psykers aren't exactly welcome, and his history with the Arbites is...less than stellar.

"Head back to the ship, don't look too suzz-pij-shuzz."

He releases the psychic hold on his prisoners and hoists them onto his shoulders, stowing his Carnodon and looking for a way down to the Captain.

"Four dead opp top, Kahp-tahn. Careful, that's det-tape on theez two."

[Ionbound]

Altherial glaces at the scavenger, but pays it no mind as she makes her way back to the ship. Once there, she takes the crystal out and examines it, both on a physical and psionic level, trying to understand the vision it gave her.

Awareness: [roll0] vs. 45
Psyniscience: [roll1] vs. 45

[positivespace]

The ratlings nod and pack up their rifles, heading off at the briskest pace their little legs can carry them, high fivng and exchanging a bag of rations on the way back.

Marshall Dhorin looks like he's about to speak when Jakkal arrives, and though only his chin is visible beneath his visor, it tenses visibly. Perhaps he doesn't like having not noticed Jakkal yet, or maybe he doesn't appreciate being interrupted. He gives no clue either way. He doesn't even need to look over his shoulder and nod, two of his Arbites set off to examine the area.

"I appreciate the offer, sir, but I must make initial inquiry on site, especially given the number of injured civilians. What exactly went down here?"

Altherial

The crystal is a mnemolith, a device used to record astropathic messages and psychic images. Rare tech, almost archeotech, but nothing compared to the wonders of Eldar invention. Your earlier worries are empty, the crystal bears no taint of Chaos and can only pass its message on to psykers.

The vision is a map, leading to the supposed resting site of the Righteous Path and a possible clue to the location of the lost Emperor's Testament. It leads a rather direct route through the Passage, and skirts around Winterscale's Realm towards the Heathen Stars.

[Donan]

"I'll send you a full report Marshal, but I must return to my ship presently. Ah, sister Almatia. Do you believe any of the wounded here would benefit from care aboard the Dagger of Faith? I'm sure we can provide crew members as support if needed." He gives the Marshal a smart salute, gesturing to his party. "I'll speak to the good Marshal for a little longer, as he wishes. In the meantime though, please return to the ship and I'll join you shortly."

Most of all, Aventus wants Jakkal out of there with his prisoners before the Marshal tries to lay claim to them.

[positivespace]

Almatia takes a moment to respond, already lost in her dataslates once more.
"Ah, yes. Our Sisters Hospitaller will see to it, I'll send for them immediately."

Marshall Dhorin watches Aventus sternly, his jawline not moving. You're not even sure he's breathing.

"Then I will go to your ship with you, sir. If the Navy Provost decides to take this matter into their own hands, things would be far worse than they need to be. Rather a quick review than years of paperwork and to follow a false trial."

[Donan]

He nods, reaching to lightly clap the other man on his armoured shoulder. "Have assurances Marshal, I believe we'll have the name of the guilty party within a few hours."

He turns to lead the way back towards the shuttles.

Returning to the ship, barring any incidents along the way.

[positivespace]

Dhorin glares at the hand on his shoulder like its a small smattering of bird poop on a nice suit. Touching him doesn't seem to be the best idea. Sisters Hospitaller and a few Medicae Priests and their servitors come to tend to the fallen, a quick negotiation convincing the Marshall to allow you to take the bodies, though he is intent on keeping the five armsmen his men captured.

The crew knows what to do to hide any discrepancies from the Marshall, and the Eldar Corsairs are nowhere to be found, knowing of the Ordos Xenos Inquisitor stationed at Port Wander. Aventus finds his invitation tended by the Marshall and three Arbites, and Orbest is seen to and cleaned up by the ship's serving crew before joining the meal.

Of course, it would all be much nicer, if not for the interruption.

"Lord Captain, incoming hail from a 'Baron Hadarak Fel'. He claims it's urgent."

Ophilia

If you aren't at the dinner, Sister Almatia requests your presence on the medicae deck.

Jakkal

The witch and the mercenary whine the whole way to the brig, an annoying series of whimpers that grinds on your nerves. As an added problem, an Arbiter was assigned to follow you, apparently a newly assigned one given her armor's lack of decoration, and she pesters you the whole way, tying to convince you to give your prisoners into Provost custody.

Altherial

Senna, the head Navigator, sends some of her house operatives to beckon you to her chambers. She's heard you have a mnemolith, and she would very much like to see it.

[Donan]

Aside from the casual chit chat that's part and parcel of any shared meal, Aventus has assured the Marshal and his escort that he's unaware of just who is behind the attack, a statement that has the merit of being true.

"However, I have one of them, if the witch we were able to capture is any indication. When we've finished I intend to send a wide broadcast to see if she's considered important enough to make.."

And then the pict screen on the wall lights up to display the requested communication.

"Well, that took less time then I expected, hm.. I almost feel cheated. A moment of silence if you please Marshal, Arbites? Our friend may reveal more if he's unaware you're present."

He waits for their response before angling the pict screen so the Baron will only see him on the other end and responds, the picture of relaxed with a glass of fine amasce to hand.

"Good day Sir. Can I be of any help?"

[positivespace]

The Marshall holds up a hand and nods, a slight smile finally crossing his face.

The man on the screen is tall, broad, dressed in a fanciful red coat that you imagine is designed to make him look larger than he is. It's likely the angle his virwscreen is set at is meant to make him look larger as well. A common tactic with 'baser' traders. He is bald, and though he doesn't seem too old, his small goatee and mustache are the color of old wheat and his forehead is heavily wrinkled where it isn't marred by then pair of scars running deep over the right side of his face. Dueling scars, it looks like.

"Ah, good day, Mister Hearth. I'm glad you took my call, am I interrupting anything?"

His voice is unduly haughty, even for a Rogue Trader of the Fel line. Their dynasty is well known for its multitude of dark secrets, :minor' transgressions, and bloated egos.

[Donan]

Aventus smiles warmly. "Not at all Baron, I'm simply relaxing. I've had a marvelous day.

An old contact of my dynasty has returned to me, I enjoyed a rather exciting firefight that I won, naturally. Why, whoever sent those brigands at me is far from a master of strategy." He winks at the other man as if sharing a private joke. "And naturally, I captured some of their number. I'm debating what's to be done with them.

Perhaps you can show your thoughts on the matter, one Rogue Trader to another?"

[TechnoScrabble]

Jakkal is silent the whole way, on edge with the Arbiter following him. Memories of pointlessly brutal punishment and abuse pop back IP, and more than once he has to stop his hand from twitching towards his weapons.

He tosses the prisoners unceremoniously into seperate brig cells, then stands there, arms crossed, and guards them. He doesn't trust the Arbites enough to leave them alone.

[positivespace]

Aventus

"Ah, yes, about that, " Fel says, running a tongue over thin lips and twitching somewhat at your jab, " I believe you have some things that belong to me. Sentimental value, mostly, but I would like them back."

Jakkal

The Arbiter doesn't take silence for an answer.

"You spoke to your captain earlier, voidsman, so I know you can talk. You're obviously in charge of ratings and prisoners, or at least have some authority. The Provost wants those two, we can strike a deal."

[Donan]

"Of course Baron. I'll return her to you at once.

Tell me, which of her limbs would you like first?" Aventus leans forward, no longer Mr. Friendly as his voice becomes cold.

"You attack my people, cause the death of several innocents, interfere with my business and try to steal what is mine. Do you have anything to offer me that'd make me seriously consider returning the two people in my brig?"

[TechnoScrabble]

Jakkal shakes his head, glaring at the Arbiter from behind his carapace visor. He's decided he doesn't like her.

"No deal. Hy cap-toored them, hy'm keepink them. Hyu wannem so bad, buckethead, talk to the Kahp-tahn."

[positivespace]

Fel's face becomes a visage of rage, red and snarled.

"You will not speak to the head of the Glorious Line of Fel with such venom, Hearth, lest I cut your little snake's head off! That map is mine!"

He pants and heaves for a few seconds, the recollects himself, wiping the spittle off of his collar.

"It is no matter. I have what I need of it, and translating it is only a matter of time. I can take the memory crystal from you when I return from claiming the Righteous Path!"

The feed cuts out, and Marshall Dhorin nods and inhales deeply, contemplatively chewing his steak.

"I think that will be... Enough. Thank you, sir."

Jakkal

The Arbiter's eyes glint, as if you've just handed her a piece of treasure.

"Article 5788, section 4. Insulting a member of the Adeptus Arbites. Field judgrment discretionary, public flogging recommended. It seems I'll have to bring you in. Unless, of course, a fair trade can be made."

[Ionbound]

Altherial nods the the navigator's messenger and says, "Of course. It's safe, and while human Psykers are weaker and fettered, a second look may prove useful. Lead on."

[TechnoScrabble]

Jakkal exhales slowly and counts to ten. Don't punch the Arbite. Don't punch the Arbite. Don't punch the Arbite.

Realizing he has little to no chance of talking his way out of this without it, he reaches into the warp and tries to push her mind in a less violent direction, figuring he can then worm his way out of this, maybe bribe her.

"Hy'm sure hwee can think ahf somethink better than flah-gink?"

[roll0] vs 40+20+15 focus power
[roll1] vs 40+20+15 opposed willpower
[roll2] vs 19+30-20?+? Fellowship

[positivespace]

Altherial

Senna's servant shakes his head at your commentary, not really caring to hear what you have to say about his master. He leads you to Senna's Navigator tower, where she comes out to meet you in the minor hall, dressed in layer after layer of hanging golden silks.

"Lady Altherial, I'm glad you came," she bows her head, "The mnemolith, please?"

Jakkal

The Arbiter imendiately loses the combatitve stance she'd taken, caught off guard. She looks quizzically at Jakkal, confused, her face oddly flushed.

"Are you coming on to me?"

[Donan]

Aventus nods, musing. Anger's a dangerous thing and the Baron's already said a little too much. He has the information from the crystal, but it sounds like he's not able to make sense of it as yet. Then again, it's possible Aventus and his crew will face the same problem.

"Your testimony would mean a great deal Marshal, to prove that he was responsible for the violence in the Court. My Warrant may place me above many of the Imperium's laws, but that doesn't mean I should blindly disregard or dishonour them.

The Imperium is the work of the Emperor, and should be honoured as such." He rubs his chin, setting his glass down on the table. "Though I suspect that man will have less respect for the rule of law then me. He hasn't performed any act enough to violate the terms of his Warrant."

Aventus pauses.

"Though I doubt his reputation would benefit if word of his actions against the traders in the Court were to spread."

[TechnoScrabble]

Now it's Jak's turn to look taken aback. That was probably the last thing on his mind, and certainly not what he expected. His hand slides away from the holster hidden under his sash and he looks to the prisoners like he expects them to offer sage advice through the det-tape on their mouths.

"Ahm...hyes? N-uhh...yes?"

Might as well go with it. Not like he can't shoot her if this is a trick.

[positivespace]

Aventus

Dhorin nods as slowly and cooly as he does everything else be does.

"Sanctions will be made the next time he approaches Port Wander, and after questioning, those we captured will be publically punished for disruption of Pax Imperialis."

He consults a dataslate one of his troopers hands him, and his jaw rolls around again.

"Two of those killed were Imperial Navy. Only deck men, hardly more than ratings, but the Navy Provost would take any chance they could to handle this case themselves, and strictly. Of course, that could lead to financial and political slips on our side without careful maneuvering."

Ah, of course. Everyone on Port Wander has an angle, even the Marshall.

Jakkal

The mercenary clearly has no clue what is going on, and the witch seems lost in thought. They're no help here!

The Arbiter pulls her helmet off, revealing a face that's only beginning to get weathered by the harsh service of an Arbite, undecorated and kept severe and tactful. No time for beauty with all these criminals around. She steps a bit closer, daring to reach out until she's almost touching Jakkal's visor and knock at the air in front of it.

"You've got some guts for a man hiding behind all that carapace, that or you're fething insane."

[Ionbound]

Altherial nods and hand the mnemolith to Senna, as she says, "Be careful. It seems to be a map, but there were also...Some odd visions."

[TechnoScrabble]

Jakkal is not about to put up with some Arbite calling him a coward for wearing armour!

"Hyoor wearink ah good bit ahf carapaze hyoorself," he retorts "Mebbe hyoo oughtta do something about that be-forr hyu get onto me about it!"

[positivespace]

Altherial

Senna extends a slender, hairless arm to take the crystal, turning it over and examining it through dark, lidless eyes.

"Yes, a mnemolith can deliver its message rather abruptly to one unprepared for it. This map is quite detailed, but I must check my star charts before I can be sure of anything...we may need to enlist outside aid."

Jakkal

"You're right, I should do something about that," she leans forward, trapping Jakkal by putting one arm over his shoulder on the wall behind him. The other hand reaches up to hit a few straps and buttons, and several pieces of her armor drop to the floor, revealing the black under armor beneath.

"Your turn."

[TechnoScrabble]

"Hwaht."

Jakkal has no clue how it got to this point, and advancing past it is only confusing him further.

"Hwell...heev it means hyu won' cause any more trahble..."

He throws off his helmet and sheds his armour, wanting to get this over with. With the arbiter so intent on it, he reaches for the curtain first unless stopped. Once done, he quickly redresses, feeling out of place without the visor of his carapace covering his face.

[Ionbound]

Altherial nods, sighs, and says, "Have at it, then. Enjoy."

[positivespace]

Altherial

"Tell the Lord Captain our target is Magoros, please," Senna says, "I will begin charting a course through the Maw.'

Jakkal

The Arbiter lounges around a bit when it's all said and done, smoking a lho-stick before getting dressed.

"I'll overlook the comment, ingrate, but the Marshall will still want to speak to your captain about those two."

She starts to leave, turning at the exit, "Next time you're in trouble around Port Wander, just call for Nastasia, alright?"

[TechnoScrabble]

"Hy'll ah...hy'll be sure to," Jakkal nods hurriedly as he locks his helmet into place.

Fat chance, pig. I don't play well with Arbites.

Once she's gone, he posts two of the servitors at the door and rips the det-tape off of the witch's mouth.

"Hahlright, start talkin'. Who are hyu, ahnd hwhy harr hyu aff-torr that crystal?"

[Ionbound]

Altherial nods and says, "Alright," rejoining the main party!

[positivespace]

Altherial

That might not be the best plan, as the 'main party' is currently eating a fine meal with the head of the local Arbites Provost.

Jakkal

The witch gasps a little as the tape is ripped off, stinging her lips and leaving a clean square patch on her otherwise bloodless face.

"I am Lady Ash, proud and loyal servant of the Baron Hadarak Fel!" she says fiercely, then smiles, "By the way, you know that woman is one of the local Proctors, right? Nastasia De'az?"

[TechnoScrabble]

"**** the police," Jakkal replies, "Baht hyu only answered my first kwez-shtahn, and now Hy haff more. Who is Hadarak Fel, ahnd hwhy would he send a hweetch to steal that mahp-crystal thing?"

[Donan]

He nods thoughtfully. "They could Marshall, but they haven't borne witness to the guilty party, nor do they know his identify. Aside from the Naval deaths, did any merchants of power die in that firefight? I'm quietly confident the merchant houses would want justice for it if they did, and if you show you'e achieved far more then the Navy Provost I believe they'd offer you fuller support.

Especially if I also speak out regarding the success of your investigation."

He sets his glass down on the table. "Walk with me? I think it's a good time for us to see the two prisoners in my brig. The soldier will be released into your custody, but given the efforts he's taking against me, I'd need to hold onto the witch."

He taps his microbead. ++Jakkal? Me and the good Marshal are on our y down to the cells to meet with the prisoners.++

[TechnoScrabble]

++Roger, Captain. They're still taped up, I'd just started questioning.++

Jakkal holds a hand up to silence the witch befor she can answer him

"Save it, the Kahp-tahn's comink."

[positivespace]

Some of the Arbites there share a hearty laughter at the idea of the Navy Provost letting such a thing as 'evidence' and 'lack of witness' get in their way. Dhorin silences them, then goes over his dataslate again.

"Most 'powerful' merchants have their own, private shops or a stall in the Hall of Gold, but a variety of claims for damages have been made. None from anyone with enough backing to affect a warrant holder, but one was subsidized by a smaller offshoot of House Krin, House Dekant. Eight damaged servitors, one dead customer, one severely injured merchant, and one dead 'Bull Stanth', some rare food beast. A lot of the damage is lasfire, but it's already been established the blame will fall on Fel."

The meal concluded, the Arbiters stand and follow you to the brig, running across another on her way out. She looks very pleased with herself, whatever it is she's just accomplished, even has a bit of a glow to her, though her smile disappears and is replaced with an awkward and paniced salute as you near.

"Ah, Provost De'az. Prisoner negotiations have been made, I'm afraid your time pestering this man's Bosun was a bit of a waste on my part. Please, take head of the work back at the Precinct."

De'az swallows nervously and nods before running off.

Jakkal is down below with the two prisoners, the servitors blaring a small, prerecorded trumpet blast to announce your presence. The witch has had the tape over her mouth removed, and is busy glaring at Jakkal through the crust of blood on her face.

[Donan]

Aventus nods to Jakkal in greeting, glancing after the Arbite who just left. "Hm. Most people tend to scowl after talking to you, not smile.." He gives the man a wry smile. "You did well with these two, I had a certain Baron demanding their return." He peers at the pysker, then ponders. "What's your name, my dear? I find myself in rather a pickle over what to do with you."

[positivespace]

Lady Ash chuckles knowingly at Aventus' comment to Jakkal before answering him.

"I am Lady Ash, and I'll have you know the Baron Hadarak Fel will destroy you and all your line to get me back! He is as devoted to his crew as we are to him!"

The raised eyebrows of the armsman and common rumor about the Fel line says otherwise. They are ruthless, many of their crew are slaves and die of being overworked, their egos range from severe to insane even for a Rogue Trader, and they have an unfortunate tendency towards knowingly sending vast legions of men to their deaths over small slights and rumors of treasure.

[Donan]

Aventus shakes his head sadly. "I've a recording I'll show you soon. The Baron seems to have already left, Lady Ash. He did ask for your return, it's true, but when I made It clear to him he wouldn't have that for free and he'd need to barter, he decided to focus more on the map you'd sent to him."

He taps his leg quietly. "I do admire loyalty however. He must have done a good deal to earn yours."

[positivespace]

"You're lying!' Lady Ash says, making a choking noise that suggests she's struggling for the right words. After a moment, she tries a different approach.

"He's just biding his time!"

[Donan]

Aventus gives a sympathic smile, then stands and walks over to a nearby console in the wall, hiding his actions as he enters his command code and accesses a recording of his recent communication wwith the Baron.

He's silent as it replays their conversation, watching Lady Ash the whole time.

[Ionbound]

Altherial puts on a cloak and makes her way to the brig and grins as she hears the playback, but says nothing.

Disguise Check: [roll0] vs. 13

[positivespace]

One of the Arbites gives Altherial an odd look, but otherwise does nothing. They've got other plots to work out with Hearth now.

Lady Ash watches the video, a flood of emotions washing over her face. When she speaks again, the haughty tone is gone and she's back to her quiet tones.

"He said he'll be back, see? He said sentimental attachment!"

[Donan]

He only nods once at that. "I'll be back with some food for you later Lady Ash, and some better accommodation if you agree to cooperate a little. Marshal, the other prisoner is released into your custody. can I be of any further help?"

He works on not looking to Altherial yet, wanting to avoid drawing attention her way.

[positivespace]

"Just send me any further details of this 'Baron Fel's corruption, sir. I thank you for your cooperation."

Marshall Dhorin takes some notes on his dataslate, then leaves, gesturing for the other Arbites to follow. They take the mercenary after carefully removing the explosive tape all over him, and are escorted.off the ship by some.of your officers.

Lady Ash is silent now, avoiding eye contact, her blood-caked face low to the ground.

[Ionbound]

When the Arbitor leaves, Altherial sheds her cloak and says, "So. What does the Mon'Keigh have to say?"

[TechnoScrabble]

"Juzt some garbage about how 'Barahn Fel' hweel kahm save horr," Jakkal shrugs and starts to make his way up, ready to grab some replacement bullets for his Carnodon, "By the hway, eef hwee don't know where hwee are goink hyet, Hy know where that map leads. Hwee just need to nahvigate eet."

[Donan]

Aventus nods lightly. "Walk with me Lady Altherial? Do you know where the map on the crystal led as well?"

He makes sure to ask Harak Lacertes to keep an eye on Lady Ash, her abilities as a pysker not yet completely known.

[Ionbound]

Altherial nods as she follows Aventus and says, "I gave the crystal to Serra. She said that our destination is Magoros and that she's already plotting a course."

[Donan]

"We're ahead on our enemy then, thank you. I'll confirm whether or not he's left the Port but from what he said, it seems quite clear he has. He also lacks a clear route as of yet, though his pysker was able to send a signal.

I'm debating her usefulness at this point. A merciful execution may be the best course, but she's capable and a potential ally. I'll see if she can become such a thing.

Do you have thoughts on the route we're likely to take? That concerns me more then Fel himself at this point."

[Ionbound]

Altherial nods and says, "Hm...I'm quite interested in human Seers, actually. If I might examine her before her death I would appreciate it. As for our route, I don't know very much about stellar travel. Ask Serra if you're so concerned."

[Donan]

"You're welcome to it. If she won't cooperate then you may be able to learn from her another way." Aventus rubs at his chin.

"Perhaps all those who were involved should speak to Sarras and learn just what we'd be facing. That fight down there would have gone a lot worse if not for you, Jakkal and our good preacher."

He reaches up, tapping his microbead.

"Jakkal, Ophelia, we're going to meet with our Navigator to determine exactly what we're doing with this route and our goal. And our enemy."

[Donan]

Pokes at people

[TechnoScrabble]

Jakkal walks with Altherial and Aventus, silent until he realizes Lady Ash is a witness.

"Hy vote hwee burn hoor."

[Ionbound]

Altherial gives Jakkal a Look and says, "Why would we do that? There is still much to learn from her, even if she is unwilling to cooperate. Isn't a mon'keigh saying 'Ve haff vays'? Why simply destroy her?"

[Donan]

Aventus chuckles quietly. "You found your way Jakkal, maybe she will as well. But if that seems unlikely, we will end her life. After we learn any information of note from her, of course, but between the two of you I don't imagine that'll be too difficult."

He continues leading the way forward, heading for the Navigator tower to meet up with Sarras.

[Recaiden]

Ophilia comes up to the others on the way to the Navigator's Tower.
"The prisoner is being uncooperative? Give her time. Despair will set in."

[Ionbound]

Altherial nods and says, "Seems like a good enough plan for now. Shall we see the Navigator?" as she walks with Aventus towards the Tower.

[positivespace]

Senna is already preparing when you meet her, a trail of servants holding the tails of her robes off of the floor and delicately aligning a large interface for her Navigation station on her head.

"Welcome, Captain. I have consulted my charts, and I'm preparing to set our course. Micha, give our Captain the travel plan."

One of Senna's eunuch servants hobbles forth to hand Aventus a simplified dataslate showing her plans. From Port Wander to the Battlefield, then to Footfall. Once past the Maw, it trails towards an unmarked star near Winterscale's Realm, then straight to another unmarked star which has now been designated 'Magoros'.

"Please, let me know if any corrections are needed."

[Donan]

Aventus taps the data slate after running through it.

"I defer to your judgement in such matters Mistress Senna, but is it possible to chart a shorter route to reach our goal? It seems we're in something of a contest, as you may have heard."

[positivespace]

"I would recommend we stop at at least one station of passage, given the Maw's temperament, but from Footfall we could proceed straight to Magoros, if you are so inclined, Captain. The increase in risk is only slight," Senna bows her head, causing the contraption atop to rattle.

[Donan]

He smiles. "Thank you. I'll abide by your recommendation of our course. Footfall will allow us to find our bearings, and then onto Magoros, unless a study of the map reveals a need to visit the star near Winterscale's Realm.

In the meantime, I'll prepare our crew for the coming voyage. Ophelia, can you speak to our prisoner? See if she is faithful to the Emperor's Creed.

If you find she is not, we will do as Mister Jakkal suggests, once he and Lady Altheria have plundered her mind for any secrets of note."

[TechnoScrabble]

Altherial gives Jakkal a Look and says, "Why would we do that? There is still much to learn from her, even if she is unwilling to cooperate. Isn't a mon'keigh saying 'Ve haff vays'? Why simply destroy her?"

"Hahre hyoo makink fahn ahff my voice?" Jakkal scowls at Altherial, his thoughts darting elsewhere almost immediately.

[positivespace]

Senna concludes the meeting with a bow, and sequesters herself away with her servants. It takes four days of realtime travel to reach a safe place to translate from, and the whole time servants bearing the mark of House Cassini parade through the corridors and halls with priests and Sisters of Battle, leading the crew through ominous chants and ritual prayer to the God Emperor, honoring him with the burning of incense.

Once safely away from Port Wander, Senna leads the ship into translation, the Gellar field sounding the alarm as it flares to life, the warp storms that flicker around the Maw lashing hungrily at you. A trip that takes most vessels somewhere around a week instead takes you nine hours as your well designed ship and well trained Navigatrix smoothly ship you along, but as you enter, strange effects take hold.

Business as usual. You notice nothing wrong, because nothing is wrong.

Gnawing, scuttling, filth mongering little vermin, everywhere, inescapable, unending. No matter how many you kill there are always more, waiting, watching, hungry. Dark, beady little eyes and dirty, mangy fear and all the diseases and plagues. You can burn them and stomp them and cast them out but there will always be some left and some will become many and many will become uncountable and the uncountable become legion, swarming over and in you and devouring you, body and soul.

You develop a borderline insane fear of rats for the duration of the trip. Gain 1 insanity point, and a few odd looks from the crew.

While cleansing yourself during the trip, you notice a strange mark on your forearm. A pink mark. In your panic, you almost rush to cut it off, but you realize that such things are temporary and that to do harm to yourself would be pointless and draw attention. However, you still cover it, trying to hide it from the others, and whenever you aren't strongly focused on something else, you can feel it calling to you, beckoning you to do indulgent things. Take a long, warm bath with scented soap. Soak it all in, wash off the filth from fighting those mon'keigh. Oh, now, see how much better that is? So tense, you'd best relax, here, let me he-

You manage to stop yourself before things get...disruptive. Gain 1 corruption, but you passed the other save, so no insanity.

The shadows seem that much darker, and even the lights seem to dim. Anything you watch for too long seems to grow an inky, dusty covering of shadow and cobwebs, until you blink or look away, then all is clean again. -3 perception for the duration of the trip.

There is a brief period where time seems to slow ever so slightly, but it quickly rights itself, Senna and your helmsman proudly reporting that they have dodged a stasis pool built up around an eddy in the warp. In the celebration, however, they fail to notice how quickly you are traveling through the warp. The ship overshoots the Battlefield entirely, ending up far closer to Footfall.

As you exit the Warp, your collision alarm sounds! You pass dangerously close to a smaller ship before your helmsman rights your course and the Dagger of Faith ends up about 1 VU away from another frigate, facing its aft with your starboard dorsal arrangements. There are three ships here behind your own, a small raider with a shapshod arrangement of parts, a weathered looking frigate facing the raider with its port arms, and between them, a weary, blocky transport with sparking drives, dim lights, and leaking water from one of its containers. Almost immediately you are beset by a storm of rude and obnoxious vox hails from the raider and the frigate as they (even more rudely) thoroughly scan your own frigate. Mostly they're just upset that you popped in so close and denounce you, your lineage, and anyone possibly related to you and yours, while each asserts that the unfortunate transport between them is theirs.

A cursory scan from your augury team reveals the ships to be:
Vagabond Trader "ALT-AQ-21" chartist water transport to Footfall, with a clearly damaged plasma drive
Tempest Class Frigate "Indelible Ire", a registered mercenary ship with the approval of four major orders in Koronus and Calixis and an Imperial Navy license to operate
Hazeroth-Class Privateer "Tiburon Noctis", part of the notorious 'Five Fingers' scavenger fleet, known for not exactly being picky on who they scavenge or how legal their status for scavenging.

A faint, distorted hail from the water trader reveals that the ship had been transporting water to Footfall, guarded by the frigate, when their drive was damaged on exiting the warp and several of their crewmembers exposed to both the malfunctioning drives and the clinging warpstuff. The mercenaries' contract ended as they arrived, and seeing them disabled, the mercenaries turned on their previous charge, only to have their claim blocked by the scavengers. Now the raider and the frigate have been brandishing arms at each other for hours while the water merchant handles the loss of all but backup power, dwindling life support, and a rash of violent mutants and malfunctioning machines!

[Ionbound]

Altherial shudders as the ship enters the warp and soon enough her terrors are confirmed by the pink mark. However, it isn't enough to stop her from trying to soak in a vain, warp-influenced attempt to clear her mind. However, luckily she realizes what she's doing before anything untoward would happen, and leaps out of the scented water, horrified at herself and what she's done.

She quickly gets dressed as the ship comes out of warp and sprints to the bridge when she hears the chatter, asking Aventus, "What's going on? Did we land on target?"

People who run into her might notice that, unusually for the Eldar, she smells nice. Like, really nice. Unusually nice as opposed to her general scentlessness.

[TechnoScrabble]

Jakkal spends most of the trip in the gym, and is showering when he is thrown about by the ship veering out of the way of the frigate. He quickly dons his armour and storms up to the bridge, half dressed and sopping wet, cursing loudly all the way.

"Hy swear to fahck eef hwee don't destroy or loot at least hwahn ahff thoze *******s, Hy will be ffery oppsett!"

His nose crinkles and he looks towards Altherial questioningly, aiming a psychic missive her way.

Restricted by Jakkal's psy rating, the message doesn't come through as a sentence but rather as a series of images, concepts, and general emotion. Flowers, something nice, animalistic confusion. Why does she smell?

[Donan]

Aventus rubs at his forehead with a huff. "Alright.. before I gain a headache of immerse proportion.. move us between the transport and the other two vessels. Raise shields, but do not target either of those rogues with weapons.

Yet.

Jakkal, since you deserve a reward for earlier efforts.. I want you to lead boarding parties onto the transport, reach the bridge and help the Captain secure his or her ship. Ophelia, please go with him if you're willing, to drive back the taint on the ALT-AQ-21. Take some tech priests with you to help them restore basic power and life support. Comms officer, try to establish contact with the transport to let the bridge crew know we're sending them aid.

And open me a direct channel to the Indelible Ire. They'll help our efforts here, or they can watch me destroy their reputation and any hope for future contracts with the Imperial Navy."

Aventus despised turncoats of that nature, one way or another, the pirates were going to pay a hefty cost for their actions here.

Wait...

He turned to give Altherial a quizzical look, noting the same thing Jakkal had.

[TechnoScrabble]

Jakkals strikes his little salute before heading off to line up some armsmen for a boarding party. Five Ten man teams with close combat gear and voidsuits, each set to also bring a techpriest and a priest or Sister of Battle. His own team will take a guncutter if one is available, with some of his team being Corsairs, assuming he can convince them to come along, and the rest of the space on the guncutter being taken up by a support team for the transport's bridge crew.

Assuming I've got this right:
Five teams of:
Eight guys with voidsuits and either lascarbines or shotguns
One with flamer
One with autopistol or laspistol and monosword (in charge)
One techpriest
One priest/Sister of Battle

One team of:
Jakkal
Eight guys with voidsuits and either lascarbines or shotguns
One with flamer
Techpriest
Priest/Sister of Battle/Ophilia
Five corsairs

and the rest of the gun cutter carrying people to stay and assist on the bridge:
Five techpriests
Five armsmen with voidsuits and lascarbines or shotguns
Five lower ranking officers of some sort

[Ionbound]

Altherial glares at Jakkal, the message being returned being a big, red X that implies, Stay out of my head.

At the odd looks, she swallows nervously and says, "I took a bath, okay? Is that a problem? Anyways, I'd like to board as well...I feel like it would be the best use of my skills here."

[Donan]

"I didn't expect such shyness." Aventus' mouth turns up in a wry smile, though he reminds himself not to overly antagonize Atherial. Eldar aren't easy to live with (or survive) if they take serious offense at something. He taps the side of his command chair.

"That could cause complications, but I won't hold you here if you're set on going. The crew on that transport are not going to react very well to your presence. If you stay here, I could use your talents for dealing with the frigate's Captain."

He pauses. "If you stay, establish a mental link with me. Jakkal, I'll ask the same of you, it'll let us communicate undetected."

[Recaiden]

For the whole trip to the translation point, Ophilia is walknig along with the House Cassini servants, leading the prayers, that the Emperor's light will lead them safely through the warp.

During the trip, well, let the crew look at her strangely. A suspicious mind is a healthy mind.



"Ready and willing, yes. The ship will be made pure."
The missionary gives Altherial a deliberate wink and slight smile before heading to grab her equipment and join Jakkal on the boarding ship.
"And don't worry Jakkal. I'm sure there won't be need for all of them."

[Ionbound]

Altherial glares daggers at Aventus and says, "Mmhmm. I'll join the boarding party. Jakkal?" She turns to the mutant, seeming to imply asking what he wants her to do.

[TechnoScrabble]

"Onto the gahn-kaht-oor, then, hyu two. Hy don't haff all day."

Jakkal takes his teams to board their lighters and the guncutter, ditching his voidsuit for his armour and greatcoat and leaving his hellgun behind for a combat shotgun looted from Fel's armsmen. He established a psychic link and an MIU link to Aventus, and offers a connection to Altherial and Ophelia.

"Een ahnd out like clock-hwerk. Hy am a ffery angry man, but Hy take seemple plea-zoors."

[positivespace]

With a quick confirmation, your helmsman swings the ship around , bringing you close to the ALT-AQ-21. You're close enough to board, but now you're within 2 VUs of the other two vessels and stuck between their full weapons complements.

The teams are arranged, including four corsairs, in their strange, sharp-edged armor and wielding monofilament weapons, leaving the fifth Eldar slot for Altherial. The Sisters don't seem too pleased to work with xenos, as usual, but seeing as how they are assigned to different teams and get to purge worse things once they reach the transport, they're content. A warning message is sent to the transport's bridge, followed by their declaration of thanks, both of which are hard to hear beneath the target lock alarm blared as the would be pirates continually switch between targeting you or each other with their macrobatteries. A few senior officers recommend scanning them and powering up weapons, but avoiding lock on for now. An open fire here would be disastrous.

The hail of the Indelible Ire brings up a hazy, static ridden image of a weathered and rough man in silver and black armor who brandishes a chain sword to command some of his bridge crew before turning back to face Aventus, making sure to angle his camera so that the myriad war trophies behind him can be seen, ranging from ork skulls to las-burnt uniforms.

"Listen, I don't give a palsy whore's reddened arsecheek what you're doing here, but if you're smart you'll clear off my salvage claim!"

Boarders

The lighters make their way to various open bays of the transport, one even finding its way through the damaged water tank, but your guncutter lands itself in the officer's private lighter bay near the bridge, giving you quick on-foot access to the bridge. The structure is utilitarian except for a small, now empty and unpowered mini fridge near the captain's seat. The senior officers cheer your arrival, then quickly relay the situation to you. The ship is on emergency power and quickly draining, life support is beginning to fail in less prioritized areasz onboard defenses are dead, the armsmen are useless because they can't unlock their weapon lockers without power, the ship's turbolifts and trams are dead, and the areas near the underdeck access and plasma drives have been swarmed with mutants, both new and those in hiding long before the warp accident. The Mechanicus presence on the ship has been mostly decimated, and the throngs of ratings can only hold the savage monsyers away from the more important areas and people for so long. The captain and first mate tried to leave in their lighter, but were quickly shot to pieces by the Indelible Ire's point defenses when they mistook it for a torpedo.

Reports:
Team 1: Crew encountered, en route to plasma drives
Team 2: All clear, en route to plasma drives
Team 3: Bodies found and burned, en route to gun decks
Team 4: Crew encountered, en route to tram master control
Team 5: Two mutants found and purged, en route to central security

[Donan]

Aventus smiles with all the warmth of an iceberg.

"I was prepared to offer you a chance to not lose your clearance with the Imperial Navy after turning on the vessel you were meant to protect, but I think you've just burned that possibility rather well. If you're smart, you'll realize that if you attack me, you'll leave yourself exposed to the raider off your port bow and they'll take the chance to open fire. Equally, if I attack you, so will they."

If we both open fire your ship will be holed, and left adrift without atmosphere. Either you can't grasp that, in which case you will be dead within two hours, or you do grasp it, in which case..."

Aventus levels the full force of his gaze upon the bulky Captain, bringing to mind several dozen interrogations against the worst the Imperium has to offer.

"You will stand the **** down or by the Emperor, I'll send you to his side."

Intimidate check [roll0]

[TechnoScrabble]

Jakkal storms onto the bridge with all the subtlety of a raging Carnosaur, the tails of his greatcoat trailing behind him. He starts connecting his MIU to the ship, checking what is and isn't available for use, especially interested in any maps or security systems.

"Giff me clearance to hyoor cartography, vox, heffrythink. Open access to the cogheads, too. Hwee're fixing hyoor power, next pree-horrities hare security ahnd transport."

[Ionbound]

Altherial coolly surveys the situation before saying, "Alright. Where are the cargo bays? I think the best plan at this point is to get as many clean people and cargo off the ship as possible and scuttle it."

[positivespace]

Aventus

The man puffs up, all full of anger, but the hot air quickly blows out of him as Aventus's cruel glare and the reality of the situation fall on him.

"...what's your game here?"

Despite his resignation, there's a definite lack of weapons being powered down.

Boarders

The officers hurriedly get to work, ready and willing to follow any order to save their own sorry hides. The ship's (probably outdated) cartography charts map out paths to cargo bays, under deck access ports, and other key points. All systems are opened up, but only life support and emergency communications are active in any sort of useablr form.

[TechnoScrabble]

"My team hweel support Team 5 at Central Security on ow-orr hway to the plasma drives. Hyu all kahn try to run all hyu want, but Hy am goink to kick somm ass," Jakkal runs over the map and nods, "Thiz'll do. Support team, stay here ahnd...ah, hwell, support. Altherial, Ophelia, kahm hwith if hyu want."

He hefts his shotgun and heads out the bulkhead without further ado. With the map on hand, he connects to the ship's vox systems and sends a message confirming the connection to Aventus through the Dagger of Faith.

++The situation is likely to go slowly here, Captain, unless we just vent the hole thing. I'll see what I can do.++

[Recaiden]

[Boarders]

"It seems...quite non-functional. Altherial's plan may have some merit. Have faith, though."

Flamer in hand, Ophilia follows.
"We should not do anything so rash though, before trying to take the plasma drives ourselves."

[Donan]

Aventus briefly muted the conversation with the Ire's Captain to respond to Jakkal. ++Understood. Let me know if you decide that's the best option here. I should be able to stall these idiots for quite some time, but I can't drive one back without leaving myself open to the other.

A stalemate's in our favour right now, I'll keep you informed of any changes.++

Reopening the sound to his communication he gives the Captain a steady look. "More civil now? Good. I'm Aventus Hearth, Rogue Trader, and I'm responding to a distress call. What's your name, Captain?" He pauses. "In fact.. let's make this more open, shall we." He glances at his comms officer. "Give the Tiburon Noctis the chance to join in this dialogue."

[positivespace]

Boarders


The five armsmen left on the bridge take up positions by the door while the techpriests and officers you brought get to work attempting to fix this mess. Chartist crews aren't by and large known for being the smartest people around, or the best connected. Very few even bother to enter the Koronus Expanse, given its lack of safe and stable warp routes.



The bridge is towards the rear of the ship, and the central security hub a small, shuttered voidglass bubble towards the center of the dorsal spine, situated so that it could also act as a backup bridge. The distance isn't too far, a little less than a kilometer. There is, also and fortuitously, a straight path there rather than through the myriad twisting corridors that Imperial voidships are known for. A short distance down from the bridge is a sealed area, that once opened, reveals how the bridge had remained untouched so far. A rush of air into the area pushes everyone gently, and the bodies that had been stuck against the vents used to make a vacuum in the area fall to the floor, joining the other bloodied corpses of mutant and crewman alike. Beyond that point, the grav plates and lighting hum and click weakly, barely maintaining power, and the low gravity and shadow make navigation a bit more onerous than it warrants.



As you get closer to Central Security, the bulkheads are more spattered with blood, and sport more scorch marks. Dead bodies become more prevalent, crew and underdeck beasts locked in their final, deadly embrace with improvised weapons. Past one intersection, you begin to hear occasional sounds of battle from further down the hall, and then something scurries past. A smattering of fold-out defensive barricades in various states of damage, bodies slumped against them, and something gnawing at one of them, what appears to be a man with flaking, leathery skin who holds a pair of pipes bolted together at the end of a small crossbow-like configuration while he rips at a body. Around him are a smattering of other mutants; an overlarge and somewhat deformed man lugging a massive piece of wrenched metal, a man shaking and occasionally shrieking as he wanders in circles, followed by a larger fellow who mimics him while his constantly shifting and mutating hands struggle to maintain hold on a sparking mass of wire, a large man who seems more like a crocodilian beast trying to herd them all with a whirring chainaxe, a hideously deformed ape-like beast with oversized arms standing watch with a scrapped together cannon, and a man wrapped in rags with oversized black eyes who shouts a warning and fires a handgun over your heads as he clambers back behind his larger fellows.

The mutants turn to face you, roaring and clamoring for your blood!

Roll initiative, state your actions. Enemies are currently 20 meters away and closing, low gravity and shadow conditions apply, there's cover at the corners of the intersection, only five meters away.

Aventus

"Lord Commander Ire, I-" Ire is interrupted by the Tiburon Noctis's captain joining in, a scruffy, thin, man with a messy beard and messier patchy clothing resembling the afterbirth of thirteen inbred generations of tacky party gowns.

"Now just what th' hell d'you want, eh? Bargin' in on good salvage like this b'tween two ships guns, I oughtta crack ya good, thinkin' y'two can get by me jus' cause I look t'be on my ownsome!" he rants, "Nobody pulls one over on Cap'n Donbrad of th' Scrapdogs!"

[Donan]

"Lord Commander Ire, Captain Donbrad. I'm Lord Captain Hearth, Warrant holder and Rogue Trader. And most importantly right now, the one with boots on the vessel you've both been targeting. I'm a fair man of course, and everyone deserves the chance to salvage a fallen vessel.

As such, I extend this offer to you both. I'll defer salvage rights to the first man who can make me the most persuasive argument and support him in this dispute. I believe there are numerous laws you can reference to support both your cases and right to salvage a derelict vessel.

Alternatively, you can come to a settlement between yourselves, a settlement I will support if you're both content with it.

I'll give you a few minutes to discuss this with one another."

Flicking the channel to mute, he leaned back and made himself comfortable in his command chair. "Do have me a glass of amasec bought, please. This may go on for quite some time. I just hope neither of them calms down enough for it to register the transport doesn't qualify as derelict."

[TechnoScrabble]

Jakkal lines the combat shotgun up with the incoming attackers, gunning for the oversized chimp with the oversized 'cannon'. A quick flick of the switch from safe to semi and-

Click!

The shotgun jams and Jakkal curses loudly and profusely before just dropping the damned thing. It just wasn't meant to be.

initiative
[roll0]
to hit [roll1] vs 47+10 semiauto
possible hits, all pen 2 impact damage
[roll2]
[roll3]
[roll4]

[Ionbound]

Altherial glares at the mutants and says, "Be cleansed," as she moves towards them, Singing Spear in hand as she focuses, trying to create a clone of herself to attack as well.

Initiative: [roll0]

Using Executioner at Fettered Levels, for instant success at 2-[roll1] DoS

[positivespace]

"Lord Commander Ire, Captain Donbrad. I'm Lord Captain Hearth, Warrant holder and Rogue Trader. And most importantly right now, the one with boots on the vessel you've both been targeting. I'm a fair man of course, and everyone deserves the chance to salvage a fallen vessel.

As such, I extend this offer to you both. I'll defer salvage rights to the first man who can make me the most persuasive argument and support him in this dispute. I believe there are numerous laws you can reference to support both your cases and right to salvage a derelict vessel.

Alternatively, you can come to a settlement between yourselves, a settlement I will support if you're both content with it.

I'll give you a few minutes to discuss this with one another."

Flicking the channel to mute, he leaned back and made himself comfortable in his command chair. "Do have me a glass of amasec bought, please. This may go on for quite some time. I just hope neither of them calms down enough for it to register the transport doesn't qualify as derelict."

The two captains erupt into a storm of demands and accusations as one of the ship's many servants to the command staff bring you a crystal glass and decanter and pour you a glass of amasec, the bubbly liquid swirling around as Donbrad wheezes about 'salvage fleet predominance' and Ire gives a spiel that mostly amounts to 'I saw it first!' and 'They undersold my quote!'.

[Donan]

Aventus doesn't hurry himself, he gives thanks and a smile to the servant who bought his drink, swirling it lightly to give the flavour more chance to come out and then taking a sip. He surveys the argument in front of him with a neutral, patient expression and a feeling of gladness. A sudden alliance by those two against him seemed all but impossible.

He speaks up at moments when there's the slightest lull, seeming to give faint support to one side or the other, but working to ensure both men and stirred into a greater and greater rage. A rage hopefully directed at one another rather then himself.

I may need to make rolls on this, he'd be employing the 'stoking the fire' method over a fair period of time, I imagine.

[positivespace]

"Power down your weapons!"
"You unpower, first!"

The 'debate', if such a frothing argument can be described as one, is frequently interrupted by a tirade of demands and insults, forcing it to start over once more. Donbrad throws his hands up in indignation, stomps about his bridge, Ire casts Aventus a dirty, accusatory look as if Aventus has betrayed him, they both turn back to each other to shout and curse, rinse and repeat.

The amasec is a nice vintage, not the best you've had, but it has a smoother taste than most, and a hint of artificial cherry flavoring.

[Recaiden]

Ophilia follows warily, visibly relaxing when they enter the low-gravity area, a smile on her face. This is where they belong.

And ship mutants. Shame that they have become such wretches, needing to be put down.
She lifts the flamer, reluctantly aims to the side to avoid singing the reckless eldar, and lights the monsters up.


Intiative [roll0]+5

Aiming to hit as many as possible without hitting Altherial, maybe half of them.
Agility test at -10 or
Damage: [roll1]+10, unless it's rolled per target.

[positivespace]

Altherial's copy wavers and flickers as it enters reality, her thoughts projected, a deathly form taking shape. Shortly after, Jakkal curses and disposes of a weapon just as useless as its previous owner, and four corsairs leap and twist over their human comrades, moving with the alien grace they are known for and scattering the hallway with shurikens, slashing two of the mutants to pieces as they dive for cover. The others charge, howling for blood, but Ophelia and Armsman Kai step forth with their flamers, purging the hall with holy promethium. As the roaring blast of fire ends, black smoke roils up from charred bodies and only four of the mutants are even alive, though in their state of pained screaming and shuddering on the floor, it's not likely that will last long. It lasts even shorter once your other armsmen shrug and start to police the bodies with their lascarbines. It's almost disappointing how quickly that was all over.

As the corsairs bound over the foes, you swear one of them disappears into the walls, as if he passed right through it.

[TechnoScrabble]

Jakkal curses and mutters and kicks a burning mutant. He hadn't even gotten to fire a shot!

"Let's moffe hahn. Hy hear fightink down that hway, mebbe Hy'll find something to kill."

[Ionbound]

Altherial sighs, dismissing the copy, and says, "Well, that was pointless. Well done, I suppose, though."

[positivespace]

Assuming the group proceeds forwards, the find the source of the noise. A heavy improvised barricade, behind it a cluster of frightened, disheveled crewmen wielding whatever they can, in front of them a hallway littered with bodies. One man sends a burst of autopistol fire towards your group, missing and pinging off the bulkheads, but his fellows tackle him to the ground, seeing you for the help the bridge said was coming. They let you through into the security hub, a large, round room with all the stations needed to run a ship on its bare minimum, plus a wall of security screens. The back wall is covered in racks and armor stands, but heavy metal shutters are down over them, and their access lights are red. The crewmen huddled here explain that they fell back here for strength in numbers, but are using only the weapons they had at the time, mostly smuggled or taken from the bodies of armsmen who fell during the initial incursion. Without access to the arms, armor, and ammunition in the lockers, they won't last much longer, and they can't get in without power.

[TechnoScrabble]

Jakkal is a firm believer in doing things the simple and easy way. He's also in a bad mood. Activating the power fields around his arms, he takes hold of the metal shutters blocking the way and attempts to rip them off. He doubts simple metal shutters with only the base emergency power afforded them can withstand being torn apart at a molecular level.

If it works, he starts searching the weapon racks for something that looks fun, preferably something big and scary looking, with a high rate of fire.

[Ionbound]

Altherial walks for a little bit, then stops, the thing that she saw out of the corner of her eye disturbing her until eventually she stops and says, "Quick headcount," counting the squad, particularly the corsairs, to make sure everyone who came is still there.

[Donan]

"How do these two ever get anything done..?"

"Perhaps I can ask a few questions. Commander Ire, you and the transport both dropped out of the warp when it ran into troubles? Captain Donbrad, I'm curious. For such a capable group as yours, why is a single transport of such concern? You've risked a conflict with a frigate over salvage rights."

[positivespace]

Even if the power had been on, there's not much simple steel can do against a power field. The crew gasp and murmur about themselves, impressed with the feat, and quickly rush in to grab their arms and armor. Flak armor bearing the emblem of the Imperial Merchant Fleet abounds, as do naval pistols, falchions, ceramite combat shields, and pump action shotguns. There are orthlack pattern heavy stubbers with stabilizer harnesses and belts of naval rounds, and several crates of stunner grenades, and shotgun pistols loaded with choke gas rounds. It seems the security team was trained in capturing errant crew alive. The centerpiece of the collection, however, is a massive ripper gun, plated with blue enameled adamantium and decorated with white decals depicting gavels and fists. Below it sit four drums of snare shells.

Naval rounds are made for use in autopistols, stub automatics, autoguns, autocarbines, stub revolvers, shotguns, heavy stubbers, or other ordinary SP weapons. They remove the scatter quality and give the weapon the tearing quality, but reduce penetration by four, to a minimum of 0.

Good Quality Ripper Gun with motion tracker, Heavy|30 meter range|S/_/6|1d10+8 I|0 pen|48 clip|2 full|ogryn proof, scatter, reliable|35 kg|+10 to bs tests if used on fully automatic

The corsairs sound off, confused,
"One!"
"Two!"
"Thr-"

They're interrupted as Team 1 goes from reporting that they've reached the Genetorium to drowning out all other sound with their combined fire and shouting. Something on the other side roars, and several shouts turn to screams and gurgles before falling silent. Voices and static hiss through the comms, distorting the sound, and some amalgam of metal shrieks and grinds, the guns falling silent after it. Only one voice is left, a woman screaming into a helmet as the sound of ceramite grinding on metal follows until the comm goes silent with a crunch.

There's a moment of silence, and then Team 2's sergeant at arms reports, "Team 2, near plasma drives, maintaining defensive position until backup arrives."

[positivespace]

"How do these two ever get anything done..?"

"Perhaps I can ask a few questions. Commander Ire, you and the transport both dropped out of the warp when it ran into troubles? Captain Donbrad, I'm curious. For such a capable group as yours, why is a single transport of such concern? You've risked a conflict with a frigate over salvage rights."

"Their plasma drive failed as they fell out of warp, Captain Hearth," Ire explains, "We had arrived slightly ahead of schedule, thanks to the whims of the warp, and our contract expired. They pulled in almost a day's realspace away, and started to send that distress signal before going silent."

Donbrad looks confused for a moment. 'Capable' isn't a word he deals with often.
"It's in better condition than most of my worksites?"

[Donan]

Hm..

"One moment Commander Ire."

He switches to a channel to only be heard by Captain Donbrad for a moment. Let Ire get a little paranoid if he likes, it'll be good for him.

It doesn't sound like you pull much profit as part of this salvage operation you're a member of. Do you have vision, Captain? I could use a man who knows the Expanse and his way around derelicts. I can assure you, you'd earn a good deal more profit in the employment of a Rogue Trader then in your current position.

I'm planning an expedition into the Expanse, one that'll prove to be highly fruitful. I'll give you a little time to consider it, but is that really where you want to stay in life? Taking leftovers around the edge of the table while a feast awaits a man bold enough to reach out and take hold of it?"

[TechnoScrabble]

Jakkal beams at the Ripper gun, laughing maniacally as he declares DIBS! and yanks it from its place, locking one of the drums into place and stuffing the others into the loops on the inside of his coat. He locks a combat shield onto his left forearm, tightening the straps, and starts handing shields out to his armsmen.

"Kahnzidder this my payment. Be glad, Hy'm usually a lot more expensive." he grins, though the grin disappears when Team 1 is audibly slaughtered over the vox.

"Hwell. Hy guess hwee know where to go, next, then?"

[positivespace]

Hm..

"One moment Commander Ire."

He switches to a channel to only be heard by Captain Donbrad for a moment. Let Ire get a little paranoid if he likes, it'll be good for him.

It doesn't sound like you pull much profit as part of this salvage operation you're a member of. Do you have vision, Captain? I could use a man who knows the Expanse and his way around derelicts. I can assure you, you'd earn a good deal more profit in the employment of a Rogue Trader then in your current position.

I'm planning an expedition into the Expanse, one that'll prove to be highly fruitful. I'll give you a little time to consider it, but is that really where you want to stay in life? Taking leftovers around the edge of the table while a feast awaits a man bold enough to reach out and take hold of it?"

Donbrad raises one scruffy eyebrow, even his facial hair mismatching. One peppery brow goes up, the fluffy white one on the other side furrows.

"It would be easier if there was someone else with a bigger ship t' haul the bits an' bobs...What kin'a business are we talkin', here? You after treasure ships or summin'?"

[Donan]

"Treasure ships are few and far between, and often heavily plundered. I'm after profit, captain, and prosperity. A derelict ship can be a pretty good haul. Now imagine a world with archotech on it? There are worlds in the Expanse that are still unfound, the discovery of one which could see you set for life, in the sort of wealth most planetary governors don't gain. I have my eyes on quite the prize, I'll say, but I won't give you more until I know I can count on you as a friend and ally.

Can I count on you, Captain? You'll receive my protection and support in return."

[positivespace]

Donbrad mutters into his beard, and it shifts a little, some crumbs falling out here and there. He grumbles and mumbles and scratches at his fuzzy velvet (at least you're pretty sure it used to be velvet) hat, then shouts something incomprehensible to one of his officers, who shouts right back.

"I want a fif'een percent cut on the effort I put in, twenny if I'm the one' finin' and workin' the op!"

That's actually fairly surprising, most filthy, seemingly insane scrapmongerers try to vastly overcharge for themselves at first.

"Oh!" he holds up a finger, adding more, "A-and I git t' bring in some of m' family! Sister's got a cruiser over towards them Heathen Stars!"

[Donan]

Aventus considers that. A cruiser would surely add some serious weight to his efforts, but it would also put him between two other ships who might try something of a coup at that point. To give himself time to consider, he speaks up with a smile.

"Family remains important, even in this time and place. That's a long way out however, I hear. Your sister's something of an explorer herself?"

[positivespace]

"Ah, yeah," Donbrad nods, "She holds a Defiant-Class out and about, does trade with the Cloudfleet, keeps them up with spare parts and all, trades the ice with people around Footfall and Belecane."

Belecane is a feudal world in the Calixis Sector, near the entrance to the maw, that is rapidly undergoing an industrialization. This is mostly attributed to Tybalt Manufacturaring, a weapons plant run by a pyromaniac noble and steadily making its way into the Expanse in the arms lockers of Rogue Traders, and Von Perell, a shipyard that also has a substantial supply of ignolite binary promethium.

Cloudfleet is a somewhat well known (mostly in rumor) fleet of ships that travels through the Expanse, following comets and mining ice from them.

[Donan]

"That's a name I know, the Cloudfleet. It sounds like your sister's doing well for herself, so, hm." He taps the arm of his chair. "When this venture of ours is done, and I'm established enough to make more offers, I'll give her the first, weighted well in her favour. I'm sure she'll appreciate your part in that."

[positivespace]

"Sounds good t'me," Donbrad laughs and rubs his hands together, smearing grease from one palm to another. His face quickly darkens, though.

"What, eh, what about that there interloper, though?"

[Donan]

Aventus smiles broadly. "We don't need to waste energy or firepower on dealing with him. The trick, Mr Donbrad, is to know just where to apply leverage. Observe."

He reaches out to key Ire back into the conversation, nodding to the man. "After deliberation, Commander, I've decided to award my support to myself, along with a share to Captain Donbrad here as we just settled on.

Therefore, I lay claim to this transport and bring it under my protection, and protection of my Warrant and authority therein.

Before you risk any careless actions, I'll remind you that you are now heavily outgunned and that I have numerous recordings and records of this entire incident." He taps a few controls, giving the order to lock onto Ire's vessel.

"Depart now, and I will refrain from making it public knowledge that you turned on the ship you agreed to protect. That damage to your reputation would risk your good standing with the Imperial Navy and make it far harder for you to find good deals in the future.

In the same vein, if you cause me any problem as a result of this incident, I will, again, make this information public knowledge. This is a limited time offer, so consider carefully."

Cutting the link to Ire, he nods at Donbrad. "I advise you keep your shields raised. I'm doing the same, just in case he makes a mistake and I do need to make use of firepower to remove him."

[Ionbound]

Altherial nods, hefting her spear, and says, "Indeed. To the plasma cores we go."

[positivespace]

Ire sputters and puffs up, turning red with rage.

"YOU CANTANKEROUS, BACKSTABBING SON OF A GUTTERSLUT! I'LL SEE YOU ALL BURN!"

The lock on alarms finally stop switching on and off as the Tiburon Noctis removes its lock from you and the Indelible Ire focuses on you. Scores of macrobatteries roar to life, the shells streaking across kilometers of empty space towards the Dagger of Faith.

"Looks like we're in fer it, buddy," Donbrad says, already entirely too friendly, "Let's take this quickly!"

Since this isn't exactly surprising, they aren't getting the bonus to hit. Roll 1d10+detection for initiative and BEGIN SPACE BATTLE!

[Donan]

Aventus chuckles. "Who knows, if we take his ship without too much hassle, you may get an upgrade in your command. I'll take the brunt of his fire, try to come about and take out his weapons from his aft."

He brings up the tactical display himself, preferring to do his own targeting. The Dagger of Faith leaps forward, closing the distance on the other frigate.

Initiative: [roll]1d10+1[roll]
Extended action (Active augury), performing before shooting. Target 59. [roll0]
Fire sunsear battery 1. Target 54. [roll1]
Fire sunsear battery 2. Target 54. [roll2]

[Recaiden]

Ophilia shakes her head and reaches out to gently poke the eldar to face the correct direction.

"The Genetorium, Altherial. But yes, we need to stop whatever just took a whole team of our boarders."

[Ionbound]

Altherial glares and says, "That's what I said. Not my fault if your inferior mon'keigh ears misheard me."

[positivespace]

(The Genetorium is the room housing the plasma drives and all their gubbins.)
Aventus

Shells the size of houses streak across space to collide with your void shields, sending out visible ripples of sparks and overflowing energy until the field is overloaded and collapses, allowing the last few shells to crash against bulkheads ineffectively. You're own lasblasts, though they streak across the void much faster, have much the same effect, the effects of locking on only helping to chip the paint off in a more orderly fashion, though several small point defense turrets cook off rounds from the heat.

The Tiburon Noctis takes advantage of the distraction to circle around behind you and reach the aft section of the Ire, but it's mass of shots, despite landing on target, do little more than rock the ship slightly.

Boarders

The chartist crew, which until now had been getting psyched up and planning to follow you to retake their ship, sobers up a good bit when they hear the wholesale slaughter of Team 1. Luckily, Team 5 rolls up right then, and after a quick report, sets about arming themselves. A few brave crew decided to follow you, preferring to die fighting rather than hiding. The other teams report reaching their destinations, and quickly take to setting up defenses against further waves of mutants.

It's a short walk back towards the bridge and down a few flights of stairs by the out of operation turbolift to the upper levels of the genetorium, where one of your Techpriests stops to inform the group that he is detecting high levels of radiation, which those without void suits may take some harm from.

As you walk through the hallways, you feel a slight pressure on your mind, then it pulls away. The feeling is nice, light-headed, leaving you almost giddy. 19 willpower damage.

[TechnoScrabble]

Jakkal focuses for a moment, trying to tap into the warp and dispel the harsh environs around him. It fizzles, leaving him grumpy and grumbling and swearing that there must be some sort of warp disturbance messing with him here, and after a moment, he tries again, leaving a bubble of cool, clean air around him.

"Hahlright, lay-deez," he yanks the charging handle on the ripper gun back and slams it forward, "Let's get dangerouz."

[Recaiden]

"Good men."
Those brave enough to try.

Ophilia follows carefully, raising her shield as they exit the room, and then sealing her helmet and suit at the tech-priest's warning.

"Let's."
And strides on in, looking carefully around the irradiated area.

[Ionbound]

Altherial rubs her forehead and mutters, "Let's get this over with quickly, then. I feel weird." as she walks into the irradiated area, void armor protecting her from the irradiation.

[positivespace]

As you clear a bulkhead jammed by a mound of mashed corpses, the armsman up front is almost obliterated by a trio of bolts!

PK-FW-BOOM! PK-FW-BOOM! PK-FW-BOOM!
BOOM!

The bolts roar past him and slam into a wall before their source clicks silent, and the armsman fires his shotgun into a nearby bulkhead and leaps back in surprise. The noises all echo down the dark, long corridors and catwalks that make up the upper levels of the genetorium, and down below, above the pained thrum of the struggling machinery, you can hear a storm of howls and one, ominous shriek of metal on metal. As the echoes die down, around the corner, from the source of the bolts, you hear someone whimpering.

It's the Battle Sister from Team 1, huddled up in a corner, her armor and helmet rent open here and there, her now empty bolter clutched tightly in her hands.

"S-stay back!"

You feel the same giddiness again, though this time its fainter. You wave the feeling away as an aftereffect of the previous high.

[TechnoScrabble]

"Hahll yoors, seester," Jakkal says to Ophelia, sighing. He moves to get a better view of the the lower areas of the room, wanting to see the damage to the ship. The quicker they can get this back up, the quicker any defense systems can be brought back on. He pulls out a glowstick and cracks and shakes it before tossing it down, trying to gauge the distance.

[Recaiden]

Ophilia does in fact stay back, carefully descending into the room.
"Be calm, sister. It will all be over soon."

[Ionbound]

Atherial looks around and then shakes her head as she says, "Ugh...That...Something is very wrong. But...I don't know what." She looks around, shaking her head as she starts trying to figure out what went wrong.

Awareness: [roll0] vs. 45.

[positivespace]

The sister scrambles back, the portion of her face visible through her ruined helmet wracked with fear and panic and stained with blood. Of course, given she's already against a wall, she doesn't move very far.

The glowstick falls slowly in the low gravity of the room, occasionally pausing as the gravity fails. As it lazily drifts to the floor, it illuminates small portions of the room at a time with hazy yellow light, revealing the swarm of mutants and warp-tainted servitors swarming up the catwalks, ladders, and walls, some even climbing over each other as they drool and slaver, hungry for your flesh! Your armsmen start firing over the railings, a few even throwing grenades, and stunned or wounded foes fall to the floor with heavy clunks and wet splatters. Eventually the glowstick reaches the bottom, and between it and the barely visible light of the plasma banks, the source of all this is visible.

The warp didn't damage the plasma drives, it damaged those in charge. The Master of the Genetorium has become a mass of whirring gears and clicking metal and tainted flesh, and it clings to the plasma drives, pulling power out of them. It sends a blast of white-hot energy forward, scouring three armsmen from the face of the galaxy. The ship groans as more power is drawn, and the few dim emergency lights go out completely as two armsmen begin to drift aimlessly into the air! Your armsmen activate the the glowlamps on their void suits, and between that and their weaponsfire, the room becomes filled with flashing shadows and disorienting chiaroscuro.

As Ophilia heads down the stairs, the leading beasts of the mutant swarm clamber over the railing, lunging at her! The horde lunges, more rising up behind her on another flight of steps, and four grab out at her, clinging to her limbs and grabbing at her face, limiting her movement as the rest pile on! The swarm lifts her up off the floor with her combined strength and starts to carry her away!

Before acting, roll 1d10 (you can roll it at home to avoid cluttering the thread, I trust you). On an eight or above, you act as if in zero gravity for one round as the gravity plating beneath you fails. Also, the area has gone from shadow to dark.

You notice something out of the corner of your eye again, but then that happy high comes back with a vengeance. You take 31 willpower damage as your mind gives in to the wonderful, comfortable, caressing feeling, and a titillating voice calls you to come down a nearby dark hallway as fast as you can.

[TechnoScrabble]

Jakkal whistles lowly as the light descends.

"That's hwahn helluva gribbly nasty."

He hefts the ripper gun up and over, then contacts the bridge crew of the ALT through the vox.

"Vent the genetorium, NOW! NOW!"

With that business done, he opens fire, spraying the mutants with snare rounds and aiming to hit as many as possible!

[roll0] vs 47+20 full auto+10 motion predictor =77+any other modifiers
possible damage, all pen 0 impact with scatter and snare qualities
[roll1]
[roll2]
[roll3]
[roll4]
[roll5]
[roll6]

[Recaiden]

This was a poor decision.

Ophilia struggles frenetically against the swarm of mutants, powered legs kicking, bopping people with the flamer's fuel cell, struggling to draw her blade.


Init [roll0]
Weapon Skill [roll1] vs 45

[Donan]

"Come on my girl, this isn't a fight you're going to lose.." Aventus murmurs to the vessel, taking a moment to focus as he lines up another scan and laser barrage. Bringing the vessel down requires him to effectively pick out targets.

Extended action (Focused augury), performing before shooting. Target 59. [roll0]
Fire sunsear battery 1. Target 54. [roll1]
Fire sunsear battery 2. Target 54. [roll2]

[positivespace]

Tempest-class Strike Frigate
Species: Human
Ship Type: Tempest-class Strike Frigate (page 195 - Rogue Trader Core Rulebook)
Ship Class: Frigate
Power: 32 / 45
Space: 32 / 42
Essential Components:
⦁ Jovian Pattern Class 2 Drive (page 199 - Rogue Trader Core Rulebook)
⦁ Strelov 1 Warp Engine (page 199 - Rogue Trader Core Rulebook)
⦁ Geller Field (page 199 - Rogue Trader Core Rulebook)
⦁ Single Void Shield Array (page 199 - Rogue Trader Core Rulebook)
⦁ Armoured Command Bridge (page 200 - Rogue Trader Core Rulebook)
⦁ M-1.r Life Sustainer (page 200 - Rogue Trader Core Rulebook)
⦁ Pressed-crew Quarters (page 200 - Rogue Trader Core Rulebook)
⦁ Mark-100 Auger Array (page 201 - Rogue Trader Core Rulebook)
Supplemental Components:
⦁ Murder-Servitors (page 206 - Rogue Trader Core Rulebook)
Weapon Components:
⦁ Dorsal: Thunderstrike Macrocannons (page 202 - Rogue Trader Core Rulebook)
⦁ Dorsal: Mars Pattern Macrocannons (page 202 - Rogue Trader Core Rulebook)


The Ire's engines flare as it starts to move forward, attempting to move further from its foes and increase the range of the fight. Her macrocannons roar into the silence of the void once more, battering the Dagger's shields and armor and raking a manning tower near one of the gun decks. Damage reports flash across the screens of your control cogitators, and a few officers raise an eyebrow as streaks of fire flash over the Ire's head. How Donbrad missed at this range is beyond them.

Your lasbatteries sear the space between you and Ire, battering his shields down and fairly roasting his engines just as he starts to gain momentum. Several sputter and die out, and small explosions rake across surface as fuel lines burst.

[Donan]

Aventus gives an annoyed grimace as the ship rocks slightly under the explosive hits. “Set the tech priests on repairing that section, keep the damage under control! Lieutenant Jenkins, get me a lock on the Ire, it’s time to finish this before it goes too long.

He brings the ship around to draw greater distance between them. Ire’s underestimating the Dagger if he doesn’t realize it can exceed the range of his macrobatteries. As he settles into the new course, he opens a channel to Donbrad, sending a burst of information from his augury scans. “I’m identifying a number of weak points and valuable targets. Good hunting.”
Once the lock on attempt is made, he fires both sunsears again.

Crew actions
Adjust bearing.
Repair damage
Lock on
Aventus’ actions
Fire one [roll0]
Fire two [roll1]

[positivespace]

The Indelible Ire continues its attempt to pull to a better angle, firing once more and just as ineffectively as the first salvo. Your shields momentarily fail only for a single shell to smash itself flat against a meters-thick bulkhead and peel off as you pull away to 8VU off the Ire's starboard side.

Even with you showing him how to properly arrange a firing solution, Donbrad's shots go wide, leading him into a somewhat amusing cursing fit at his gunnery officers. Salvage fleets aren't widely known for their prowess in naval battles.

Lieutenant Jenkins gives a sharp "AYE SIR" and focuses the Dagger's arrays of sensorium masts on the Ire, scrolling feeds of numbers rolling through your cogitators. Your batteries scorch your opponent, plumes of melted metal peeling across the hull.

(Pick a component on the Indelible Ire that is not the bridge or plasma drives. That component is now damaged.)

[Donan]

Whichever of their weapons that currently faces us! IC post coming a bit later.

How many of our hits landed? 4 needed to crit.

[Ionbound]

Altherial looks around a little dreamily, then sprints off after the voice down the hall.

[Donan]

"Now we have him.. another targeting solution Lieutenant, then we'll see if he's willing to discuss terms."

He refrains from speaking to Donbrad again, if the man does well, he does well, but a space battle is not his forte.

Actions

Aventus - +10 given to Jenkins for locking on
Jenkins - Lock on
Aventus - Fire battery 1 (Target 44+any bonuses from Jenkins), Fire battery 2 (Target 44)

[roll0]
[roll1]

[positivespace]

Aventus

Indelible Ire's Mars Pattern guns go silent as the heat from your lascannons sears them, setting off ammo caches and opening targeting towers to the void. Thunderstrikes try to make up for the lost batteries, but don't even manage to strike your vessel, instead sailing past by kilometers, much like Donbrad's next salvo.

Your next pair of hits is devastating, scores of lasfire raking the Ire and sending a hole you can see through (once magnified for distance, of course) through the leading line of Thunderstrike batteries and causing several external heat sinks near the void shield generator to explode and crumble.

"Sir," Jenkins reports, "The Ire is hailing us!"

Boarders

Ophilia's power armor enhanced strength knocks a few arms loose, but the real clinch comes when someone above shouts, "Sorry, miss!" and a stun grenade bounces off her armor before erupting into a cavalcade of sound, light, and concussive force. Ophilia is unaffected by the armsman's grenade, but the herd of mutants around her is knocked about and left reeling, and those coming up the stairs are shredded by the oversized frangible rounds of the heavy stubbers before they can reach her.

Jakkal's ripper roars as it fires, shotshells interspersed with chains of bluish goo that quickly solidifies into concrete strands as it wraps around targets, massive splashes of the stuff hammering the mutants and making them peel off the wall and fall to their deaths in large clumps.

As Altherial follows the voice, it draws her deeper into the darkness, through twists and turns. Eventually there is a dead end at one of the many now-powerless cogitator banks, the body of one of the corsairs slumped up against it, the soulstones on his armor dull, dusty, and riddled with spiderweb cracks. Over him stands a shapely shadow, a silhouette that seems unable to decide what form to hold onto, only maintaining one that's basely attractive.

[Donan]

"Very good Lieutenant." He leans forward, opening a channel to Donbrad again. "He's been persuaded to talk Captain. Hold fire, but I'd keep a lock on him, just in case."

He then answers the hail, face sombre as he offers room for the defeated Commander to speak.

[positivespace]

"Ah, we've got 'im right where we want him! Gave him that one-two punch, like a shock-nukk boxer!" Donbrad laughs wheezily, giving himself entirely too much credit.

Commander Ire comes on screen, his signal hazy and fraught with static, and he has to shout to be heard over the countless klaxons wailing on his bridge and bathing him in dim red light.

"You've done your damage, you ratty little bastards, but you won't get away with this! I knew I couldn't trust you but I stayed my blade and this is what I get for it? I'll hear your dying prayer before I show mercy next we meet, Hearth! I curse your name, and the name of your shifty eyed little rodent friend!"

[TechnoScrabble]

Jakkal whoops and hollers, but the reality of the situation is that they won't hold back forever against these mutants. Once they start to get up and over the railings, ****'s gonna go downhill fast.

"Maybe hyu didn't hear me right, VENT THE DAMN GENETORIUM, HYOO SAHNZ AHF ORKOID ****HOUSES!" he roars into his microbead, then stuffs his newfound ripper gun into the hands of a nearby armsman.

"Here. Kahffer me."

Jak turns and runs, leaping down the stairs Ophilia is near and charging at the mutant horde, power field enhanced fists crackling.

"Hy'm goink for the beeg, nazty hwahn!"

He swings at the mutants, aiming to clear a path straight through them!

[roll0] vs 55+10 charge =65 +anything else
damage [roll1]+8 energy damage pen 9

[Ionbound]

Altherial stares at the shadow, fighting herself to do something, anything...It's too late for the corsair. But she might still escape.

[roll0] vs. 26.

[Recaiden]

Boarders

Ophilia's power armor enhanced strength knocks a few arms loose, but the real clinch comes when someone above shouts, "Sorry, miss!" and a stun grenade bounces off her armor before erupting into a cavalcade of sound, light, and concussive force. Ophilia is unaffected by the armsman's grenade, but the herd of mutants around her is knocked about and left reeling, and those coming up the stairs are shredded by the oversized frangible rounds of the heavy stubbers before they can reach her.

Jakkal's ripper roars as it fires, shotshells interspersed with chains of bluish goo that quickly solidifies into concrete strands as it wraps around targets, massive splashes of the stuff hammering the mutants and making them peel off the wall and fall to their deaths in large clumps.

As Altherial follows the voice, it draws her deeper into the darkness, through twists and turns. Eventually there is a dead end at one of the many now-powerless cogitator banks, the body of one of the corsairs slumped up against it, the soulstones on his armor dull, dusty, and riddled with spiderweb cracks. Over him stands a shapely shadow, a silhouette that seems unable to decide what form to hold onto, only maintaining one that's basely attractive.

"No problem, armsman."
Ophilia withdraws up the stairs, sending a wave of flames over at the mob that had attacked her. And also at the catwalk above them and to the left, which just happened to be nearby. So much the worse for them.

Out of immediate peril, she realizes something. Altherial hasn't said anything condescending in quite some time. A quick glance around, and yep, there she goes disappearing back into a corridor.
Shout into the microbead.
"Altherial! You get back here and fight these mutants with us. If Jakkal doesn't get to the one on the engines, take a shot at it! Nothing to fear, xeno. 'So I have faith, no taint or mutant shall do me no harm.'"


Damage [roll0]

Fellowship at the eldar against what should be 46 here?
[roll1]

[positivespace]

Fire washes over a wall of flesh, and the bloodthirsty shrieks of dozens of sinners and weak-souled mutants become the pained shrieks of dozens of and weak-souled mutants. Fire washes over heat-resistant bulkhead plating and around thin railings, further complicating the lack of OSHA compliance and casting angry red light over the hordes.

Where the fire does not touch the mutants, they wash up over onto the walkway, clashing with the armsmen. Armsmen scream as they are bitten into and hacked at with crude, rusty tools and dragged off to horrible, lethal fates. Jakkal is hard pressed to smash through the crowds, mutants falling to the floor and spilling their insides across the metal as their torsos atomize, but he manages to make it a bit further.

The call of your mon'keigh comrade calls to you for a moment, but it means little when the shadow holds up a hand and beckons you, a tantalizing force drawing you forward. It moves forward to caress you even as it wipes the blood of the corsair off of its face, and giddy laughter fills your ears before your mind becomes a mess of tangled highs and emotions. Time seems to go on forever, but when you finally awake, sore and with a bad headache, it's only been a few seconds. The forearm the mark appeared on earlier itches.

Gain 15 corruption, 3 insanity, and one level of fatigue. +10 to resist telepathic powers from other sources. Willpower is back, but Altherial will not remember anything about any odd psychic affects on her, only waking up here and a surprisingly pleasant feeling.

[Ionbound]

Altherial swallows as she unconsciously scratches her arm and walks away towards the genetorium in a haze, barely even noticing the corpse.

[TechnoScrabble]

As much as Jakkal likes to brag, he's not going to make it through here without some careful thinking. He's given up on waiting for a response from the bridge crew, he'll have to improvise.

Flexing that stubborn will of his, three invisible limbs spout forth, their edges sharpened to a keen point by force of his annoyance and bloodlust, they thrash around him, lashing out just like his fists to keep the mutants back and make a space for him to make his plan good.

[roll0] vs 55
[roll1] vs 55
[roll2] vs 55
[roll3] vs 55

damage (in order)
[roll4]+8 pen 9 energy damage
[roll5] pen 5 rending damage
[roll6]
[roll7]

[Recaiden]

"Stupid unreliable eldar."

"Jakkal, duck."
Ophilia dashes up as close as we can get and sends another blast of flames past (and hopefully over) the strange man, clearing a way a bit further through the mutants.


[roll0]

[positivespace]

Altherial exits to a scene out of a nightmare, cannibalistic mutants tearing men limb from limb as they scream and struggle in vain, globs of mutants stuck together by snare shells, flames leaping and licking, gravity temporarily failing and sending man and mutant alike drifting up into flickering shadows before they fall down to their deaths. One sister of battle is curled up in a corner, screaming, while another tries to pull her away, providing covering fire with her bolter until her arm is vaporized by another blast of white light from the clockwork horror at the base of the genetorium and she falls to her side, rolling up in shock.

Jakkal's fist smashes one mutant into a pulp, and another snarls in pain as a deep gash mysteriously appears across its face, but those become moot points when Ophilia's modified flamer pours forth a conflagration around him, Jakkal's reflexes keeping him just barely within the safe area beneath the fire, only singing the edges of his coat. Not only does he have room now, but he has space to get nearer to the 'gribbly'.

Finally, there comes a response through the vox, a static apology, frantic effort, and then-
FWWWWWWWOOOOOOOOAAAAA-

There is a short period of raging, roiling sound and buffeting winds knocking everyone about as the atmosphere leaves the room, knocking lesser men and mutants around and causing fires to snap out and mutants to clutch their throats as if tightening their trachea could save them. Many armsmen join in, their voidsuits ripped and torn, but Jakkal's extended bubble of protection against the void saves a few.

[TechnoScrabble]

Jakkal pats out the small flames and smoking patches on his already well-worn coat, then throws Ophilia a thumbs up before getting to work. One fragmentation grenade, one drum of snare shell ammunition, wrap healthily in det-tape, voila! Smooching his work, he looks over the railing, aims for a space with low enough gravity to survive the fall, and with a short running start, vaults himself up and over the railing to meet the corrupted techpriest below!

[roll0]

[Donan]

His engines, shields and weapons were down. Aventus kept the serious look on his face, not responding to Ire's insults and threats.

"No Commander. You'll need to do as I ask now, or I will board and take your ship, and you will be left adrift. You'll come aboard my vessel, and be aware I will scan the shuttle you use, to ensure it's not full of munitions. When you're aboard, you'll be taken to the bridge where we'll settle matters on this incident.

Again, if you don't, I will take your ship from you."

[positivespace]

"And how do I know you won't take my ship anyways? You've already proven to be an untrustworthy dog!" Ire says, weakly trying to defend his own ego, "You and your little scrapmonger pet!"

[Donan]

"Because I get you either way. This is the easiest option for you."

[positivespace]

Ire's face puffs up, and it seems as though he's going to set loose on another tirade. It's almost half a minute until he finally deflates.

"Very well. I will be over shortly."

He ends the transmission, and the Ire's damaged retrothrusters make a long effort of stopping the frigate. Shortly after, Jenkins reports that their weapons have powered down and there is a small craft approaching. A private shuttle, unarmed.

[Donan]

"Captain Donbrad, would you join me please, to witness this?"

Ire's shuttle will be scanned, as promised, and he will be searched carefully on arrival, along with anyone else he might have bought, before being escorted to the bridge under armed guard.

Donbrad will be checked as well, but far more circumstantially given his status as an ally and guest. He'll be offered a honor guard to show him the way to the bridge, should he agree to come.

[positivespace]

Donbrad accepts your invitation, making his way over in a cargo hauler sloppily painted with a tacky golden yellow paint. He arrives shortly after Ire, who arrives with a pilot and two guards dressed in a similar outfit to his own. They're unarmed, apart from swords, or, in Ire's case, a chainaxe. He's reluctant to give it up, cursing extraordinarily loudly, but eventually gives in before storming onto your bridge in an attempt to muddy up the fact that he is being let on, not forcing himself on.

"Speak your part, Hearth."

[Donan]

Aventus waits until Donbrad is on and is settled, ensuring that the coming events are being recorded. He doesn't raise to Ire's bluster, giving the man a quiet, neutral look. "I offered you at least two chances to withdraw Commander, withdraws that would have left your command, ship and reputation intact. You declined that mercy.

You bought harm you could have easily avoided to your ship and your crew out of needless pride and arrogance." He nods to the armsmen on the bridge, giving the command to surround Ire and his guards and ensure they can't bring weapons to bear. Ire himself is pushed down to his knees as Aventus draws his hellpistol.

"Before that, you turned on a stricken ship that had been under your protection, a ship filled of those who trusted you, and you betrayed that trust. I gave you many chances and you discarded them all.

I therefore stand here to pass judgement. You Commander Ire, are sentenced to death for your actions today. Your ship will pass into the hands of your senior crew and I will tow them back to Footfall to ensure they're not stranded out here. After that, their fates are once again their own."

He aims the pistol at the man's forehead, face deathly sombre. "Do you have any last words to speak before I send you to face the Emperor's judgement?"

[positivespace]

Ire's men struggle against your armsmen, one giving a man a black eye before receiving a rifle butt to the face. Donbrad hollers in excitement at the short scuffle, and it ends with Ire on his knees, cursing and spitting.

"You bring a man to parlay just to kill him, huh?! Is that the kind of cretin you are, Hearth? I spit on your name! My family spits on your name! Legions of men in days to come will retch when they hear of Hearth, the backstabbing, thieving, whoreson, who didn't even offer his dupe a duel!"

[Donan]

"There was no parlay, only the sentencing for your crimes. The Emperor will judge me for my own in time. But I'll share a secret with you, Commander, as you're about to die."

He crouches down, murmuring something in the man's ear before he steps back and raises his pistol. There's a flash of light, an unpleasant smell of burning and a soft thump as Ire's body lands on the deck. He looks up to his guards and their pilot. "He's yours to return to your ship, perform whatever rites you feel are fitting. I'll ensure your ship's towed to Footfall in order for you to seek repairs and safety."

"There's no curse you can lay on me that isn't already mine. I was dammed long before we met, but I will do all I can to leave the universe a better place."

[Recaiden]

Ophilia is thrown about by the sudden loss of air as much as anyone, and takes a moment to reorient. The strange little buy is giving a thumbs up.
That all worked out then.
She takes stock of the room, looking for mutants that seem not to need air or armsmen/sisters who could be swiftly retrieved from the genetorium and get out alive.
While technically she could keep burning things (oxygen is more of a suggestion to promethium), she could do more otherways.

[positivespace]

Aventus

Ire's men spare you a great deal of angered faces as they take their Captain's body and chainaxe back to their vessel. They were loyal, but not as foolish as Ire, and not about to get themselves killed pointlessly.

Donbrad walks up and claps a hand to your back, leaving a sooty black print.

"That were some ruthless workin' right there, yes siree. Glad I didn' end up on that end a' you."

Boarders

Jakkal succeeds in landing without severely injuring himself, but once he's down there, he'll find that maybe that was the least of his worries. Not even the mutants dare travel down this low, where the floor is littered with bodies and corrupted machinery sparks and spasms. The possessed Magos Enginseer turns to face you even as one massive clawed hand siphons power from the banks of plasma batteries and bits and pieces of technology are called towards it to attach themselves and increase its mass. Down here you can feel the heat and power radiating from the various features of the Genetorium, and the warpstuff roiling off of the daemon-powered cyborg monstrosity set Jakkal's skin ablaze with sweat and unnatural, prickly feelings.

Jakkal gains 12 corruption and takes 2 strength damage and 3 toughness damage from the radiation.

Thanks to Ophilia's help, the Sisters are saved from a horrible death by hypoxia, though it is very likely that both will need surgery, especially the one now missing her arm. A mutant with a ragged corpse of an armsman in one hand raises the improvised gun in his other and fires, the bullet skipping off of Ophilia's armored shoulder harmlessly.

Altherial finds herself confronted by a pair of large, malformed mutants hefting scrapped weapons that look like they were once Omnissian Axes. The flesh of one mutant churns, occasionally ripping away to reveal spinning cogs and shearing blades beneath before regenerating, and the other has a second head growing from its left pec.

[TechnoScrabble]

Jakkal doesn't take a moment to dwell on how terrible an idea this was, instead deciding to push forward with how awesome it will be. Plenty of smug smiles will be wiped by this. Who's? He's not sure, but someone out there has to be smiling smugly, and he's about to wipe it off their face.

"Open hwide, coghead," Jakkal hisses and pulls the pin on his contraption before chucking it at the monstrous magos and diving for cover. The thought crosses his mind that maybe he should've brought the ripper gun with him.

[roll0] vs 47 +/-?

[Ionbound]

Altherial grins and says, "Two at once? Easy," as she thrusts her spear at the cogwheel'd mutant.

Attack the Cog Mutant: [roll0] vs. 43

[roll1] Pen 5

[Donan]

Aventus nods once to Donbrad, his face steady after the unpleasant events. "There are certain things men should be held to. Betraying those who placed their trust in them is a crime that shouldn't go unanswered." He looks at the place where Ire's body fell, servitors starting to clean it. "I offer a single chance. That's all anyone gets from me today."

He claps the man back on the shoulder, offering a sombre smile. "Stay true to me Captain, and you have my personal promise of protection."

[positivespace]

"Well, I certainly wouldn'ta want t' be on your bad side, now," Donbrad laughs, wheezing towards the end of it, "You're someone who makes sure things get done, th' way I see it, an' I'm all willin' an' able to work with that."

[Donan]

"Good man." Aventus nods with a chuckle. "Then once we're away from Footfall I can tell you more about our prize, and ensure we bring your sister into things. Lieutenant Jenkins, any word from the transport's boarders?"

[Recaiden]

"If another team can get here, we have some survivors to remove, just outside in the airlock."

Ping, bullet.
Ophilia turns to the mutant, gives it a moment, and then incinerates it.
[roll0]

[positivespace]

Aventus

Jenkins turns in his seat to face you, grimacing and darting his eyes back and forth as if looking for someone to lay the blame on.

"There have been some...casualties, Lord-Captain. Apparently there's a bit of a mutant problem near the genetorium?"

Boarders

Ophilia's flamer washes the deck over with fire, putting the mutant to the torch and sending two more and their savaged victim rolling away in panic and tumbling over the railing at the edge. The fire clings to them despite the lack of oxygen, the self-catalyzing compound in the promethium burning hotter and faster than any mundane flame.

Altherial's spear is deflected by the mutant filled with cogs, who's own backhanded slap is ineffectual and does little more than wipe grease across her helmet. Pecface roars from both ugly mouths and swings his crackling axe over his head, but misses the Warlock's head and instead embeds his weapon in the nearby bulkhead.

Jakkal's crossbred abomination of a bomb sticks to one exposed gear on the Magos before being pulled inside by the turning of the tainted metal. Nothing happens, and as the clawed hand of the monster raises up again, it seems the device has failed.

BWOOMCRACK CRACK BAM PTEW!

The explosives and munitions go off inside the Magos, and burning shreds of mechanical heresy are flung about the genetorium, several pasted with snare round glop, a mass of which fills the demon-possessed techpriest and hinders his movement, making his smoking form twitch and grind like a bad stop motion vid-pict.

Jakkal takes 2 damage to the body after armor as pieces of shrapnel batter him.

[Ionbound]

Altherial frowns as her spear is deflected, unfazed by near-miss with the axe, as she stabs at the mutant trying to retrieve his axe from the bulkhead.

[roll0] vs. 45
[roll1] Pen 5.

Hey, I actually did damage!

[Donan]

He grimaces. "Very well.. reinforce our docking ports now and prepare for intense quarantine methods for anyone who comes back across. Hail every shuttle that heads our way and destroy them if they fail to respond. Launch more of our own shuttles and secure a solid beachead in the transport's docking bay.

Make sure the armsmen know there's a high risk involved and to prepare accordingly. Are you able to establish a channel to Jakkal?"

[TechnoScrabble]

Jakkal believes in getting a job done thoroughly, especially when massive daemon-machines are involved. His hand darts into his jacket to draw his carnodon from it's holster, snapping it up and cocking back the hammer with a satisfying ka-click.

"Hy'ff had worze hideas," he mutters to himself, feeling a bit queasy as the radiation washes over him, and he pulls the trigger once, twice, three times.

[roll0] vs 47+10 MIU+10 semiauto+5 gun mods
possible damage, all 2 pen impact damage
[roll1]
[roll2]
[roll3]

plus possible organgrinders, rending ignores armour and toughness
[roll4]
[roll5]
[roll6]

[Recaiden]

How many of these things are there?
Too many, of course.

Ophilia ejects an empty promethium canister and sets about setting a new one into the flamer, taking advantage of there not being anyone shooting at her at a moment.

[positivespace]

Aventus

Jenkins salutes with a curt 'Aye-aye, Cap'n!' and gets to work, relaying your orders to the various command stations across the Dagger. A few more shuttles start to ferry back and forth between your bays and the chartist's, Donbrad watching your report screens with beady eyes, though his expression suggests he probably doesn't understand it all.

"Link established with Chief Bosun Jakkal, Captain! It's a bit-scratch that Captain, radiological interference killed the feed!"

Boarders

Ophilia's few moments of not being viciously assaulted don't last long, a few more armsmen being pushed back her way by the mutant horde, looking far worse for the wear. One struggles to reload the ripper gun, it being far larger than any gun for the man should be, and others are busy trying to push away the mutants with what little ammunition they have left, one dropping a stun grenade at his own feet for all its worth. The Sisters Hospitallier will have a fun time replacing his eardrums.

Altherial's spear slashes through the chest of the mutant, sending it reeling back, and his friend's clumsy club slides off of her armored arm, doing nothing so much as even scratching the enamel. They both roar in anger, and the axe-wielder swings again and again, thrashing wildly and managing to scrape the Eldar's armor a few times before nicking her leg for one damage.

Jakkal's first shot is enough, the other two are just there to look pretty. A hole is blasted through the Enginseer-Daemonhost's shoulder, much larger than the bullet used to make it, and as scything blades twist and shred throughout the metal monstrosity's body, the entire arm is sheared off, falling down to the side and spasming wildly, sending flashes of white light everywhere that burn through bulkheads and manage to do six damage to Jakkal's arm. The Enginseer howls mechanically, gears shrieking and grinding against each other as it tumbles down, collapsing into a pile of scrap. As it releases the plasma banks, they flash with light and the gravity plating and lights come back online, as well as power across the ship, bringing a storm of reports from the other teams that are rendered unintelligible by static from the sudden increase in radioactivity. The lower levels are blasted with heat and radiation, scouring the mutants away, and if common knowledge of Genetoriums holds true, everyone will want to be out of this room by a good number of bulkheads very quickly. Jakkal manages to hold against the heat, almost miraculously, but takes five more strength and toughness damage from the radiation, and five more corruption as the warpstuff dissipates from the crumbling daemonhost.

[Ionbound]

Altherial snarls as she feels the cold sensation of a cut and growls, "Now you pay. Your corruption will not infect me!" as she jabs at the corrupted mutant, attempting to run it through.

[roll0] vs. 43

[roll1]

[TechnoScrabble]

As much as Jakkal would love to stick around and loot things, there is the sudden issue of rather unhealthy particles penetrating his cells. He likes his cells. He turns and makes for a dead sprint, going for a ladder if any such thing is nearby. With any luck, he'll make it out before he melts into a pile of bubbling green gunk.

[Recaiden]

"Altherial! We're getting out of here before the place overloads!"
That also applies to everyone else, but those armsmen are retreating, while the eldar is happily hacking away at mutants still.
The missionary finishes reloading, seeing the happy trace of flame at the front come back on, and edges towards that one clump of mutants.
She can afford a single shot to clear the way, and then they're on their own for leaving.

[positivespace]

Altherial's spear is easily deflected by the mutant's axe, and the two press in closer, desperately trying to savage her before their inevitable death in the rapidly heating room. Behind them, the few remaining armsmen are shooting their way out of the mutant throng to follow Ophilia out as she bathes the room with fire one more claiming several mutants and one unfortunate member of the chartist security crew. A call makes it through the static, one of your teams reporting that they're sending a tram to the nearest station for you now that the power is back. Jakkal finds a ladder, but even that shortcut puts him only barely past the heat and radiation rapidly rising up from below...

[Ionbound]

Altherial kicks at the mutants, using the momentum to spring back away from them and sprinting away from the engagement, letting the mutants to die and be cleansed by radioactive fire.

Acrocheck: [roll0] vs. 49

Alright, half-move and then another half-move away.

[Recaiden]

Too bad for the poor chartist. But he should have been faster.

Ophilia shuts off and slings her flamer before turning and leaving the Genetorium with all possible haste, repeating the message about getting to the tram station to the others in case they didn't pick it up.

[TechnoScrabble]

Jakkal curses rather loudly as he throws up halfway up the ladder, staining the hems of his greatcoat. He tosses one of the stun grenades up the ladder as he climbs, not really wanting to deal with any of the mutants on his way out. He sprints to catch up to the rest of the group, ready to get the hell out of here.

[positivespace]

((Sorry, this thread slipped my notice somehow))

Jakkal and Altherial escape the genetorium, the first set of blast doors closing behind them as they do so. Ophelia is up ahead, past the second and third safety doors, and only a few meters away from the railcar depot for the tram. Grinding and screeching can be heard from down the tunnel as the slightly dinged up tram comes down the line, swinging from a single rail up top. A few armsmen are inside, and they call out to you as the doors open!

[Ionbound]

Altherial sprints towards the guardsmen and hops in the tram. If they give her any funny looks, she looks back with a glare that says, Problem?

[Recaiden]

Ophilia greets the tram team gratefully and hops inside, waving for the others to hurry up.

[positivespace]

The tram is a godsend, as it happens, as the genetorium's power surge starts to affect the area, nearby lights shattering and panels exploding from their boltings as they are forced loose by awry grav generators, crushing one of the chartist armsmen who is too slow to get on. The tram shakily pulls away even before the doors are shut, almost throwing it's passengers loose as it speeds away from the dangerous area, stale wind rushing through the open cabin. One entire end of the car is packed with the wounded and dying, including the two Sisters of Battle who attempt in vain to force litanies out of their frozen minds and mouths.

A crackle and a squeal blast out of the team's earpieces, the voice of the Dagger's communications officer!

"All teams, all teams, this is a general call, report in!"

Aventus

"Connections reestablished with the armsmen, Captain!" Jenkins excitedly reports as various monitors flare, and he repeats for your sake what is already scrolling across your screen and being shouted between bridge crew, "And the chartist vessel has power again! We're waiting for a response."

[Recaiden]

"Mutants cleared out, but the genetorium is severely damaged."

And there are a bunch of wounded back there.
She should see to the ones who might still be repairable with a physik kit and some luck.

[roll0] against base 46
[roll1] against 63? for any diagnoseing or figuring out what happened to people.

[TechnoScrabble]

Jakkal is still whooping and hollering his approval of the fight and subsequent flight when his earpiece starts to make harsh noise, causing him to swat at the side of his head in annoyance.

"Ahll goot ahn howorr end. A few casualties, some damahge to ship, baht the cause ahf the power drain eez gahn."

Jakkal turns to Ophilia and Altherial, muting his microbead briefly.

"Do hwee let them know eet hwas-"

He throws up mid sentence, leaning out of the tram just in time to avoid painting his teammates, and grimaces as he spits up the last drops.

"Ech. Radiation."

[Ionbound]

Altherial grimaces and steps out of the way of Jakkal's vomit as she says, "Well then. Why did we not vent the genetorium?"

[Donan]

That's pretty much his entire senior crew in there. That's why the Navy has strict rules on just who goes into a situation to avoid risking every single officer.

But he doubts regular rank and file could have handled this situation. Still, now to limit the losses before it gets worse. "Mr. Jenkins, keep working on contacting their bridge. If the situation's confirmed as stable, we'll tow them to port for sanctuary and then I'll have a longer talk with them. Captain Donbrad, the Tiburon Noctis is able to tow the transport if we take the Ire?"

++Jakkal? Evac now. We're prepped for casualties and radiation poisoning.++

[positivespace]

"T'wouldn't be th' first time she's been a tug," Donbrad laughs, his belly and coat shaking, and scratches his beard before offering his hand, "I'll be off, then?"

"Teams are reporting situation control despite heavy casualties, Captain!" Jenkins answers, "We have contact with the vessel's bridge, shall I bring them onto the main hailer?"

Boarders

Ophilia finds herself mixed up and turned around with the myriad patients with myriad wounds. A man with radiation burns is handed a tourniquet, the sister with the missing arm receives a compression bandage, an eye cup is given to a man missing three fingers to mutant claws. It's not a pretty sight, especially with the tram swinging and banging around as it is. Between the radiation, the vicious combat, and the corruption of the soul, not many survived, and it's not likely those still with you will stay that way. The armsman Jakkal hand his ripper to waits patiently for the bosun to quit vomiting before handing it back with a small salute, and several of the merchanter ship's men are pleading to Ophilia and the Sisters for the Emperor's blessing over their wounds and spirits.

[Recaiden]

Well, it can't hurt. Not much else is going to help these people.
"May the Emperor bless and protect you, cleansing the wounds of flesh and spirit, that..."

[Donan]

Aventus nods and stands to take and shake Donbrad's hand. Manners are practiced and he reminds himself not to clean it off until ater the other Captain leaves the bridge. "I'll be telling them to get ready for your efforts. we've not got too far to be going to get her to safety." He nods at the Lieutenant. "By all means, bring them up." He taps a control on his command chair. "Docking bay, medi bay. Are you prepared to received casualties and radiation victims?"

[Ionbound]

Altherial looks back and forth, survey the casualties, and then says, "Wait...What happened to the corsairs?"

[TechnoScrabble]

"Th' corzairs?" Jakkal raises an eyebrow as he wipes the last of the vomit from his lips with his sleeve, accepting his ripper gun and nodding at the armsman, (That one's worth promoting) "Hwaht abou-Oh...Hwell, hyoor the eldar, hwhere deed they go?"

[positivespace]

Donbrad leaves and begins to move the Tiburon into position, while Jenkins brings up a hazy image of the Chartist vessel's command bridge, where things have calmed down considerably. Several of your techpriests can be seen moving from console to console, working hard at restoring the ship to an operational capacity.

"We have people reporting back in from the genatorium and tram stations, the power is back! Damage appears to be minimal, actually, but...well, the ship may have to be purged, or even scuttled."

The Medicae workers and the Sisters Hospitallier report that they are ready to receive up to six hundred patients, with capacity for four hundred more at the moment.

Boarders

A few glances are spared here and there, and some confused shrugs, but the human crew never did care much for the xenos, and now they are more preoccupied with their own mortality. A few of the casualties and survivors manage to offer what aid they can, but two more perish before you reach the tram station near the bridge, one bleeding to death from his gut and another man throwing himself from the tram in an attempt to escape the voices in his head.

[Ionbound]

Altherial shudders, her throat dry, before eventually saying, "N-no matter. We can always scour the ship for them or their Soul Gems once we get back. Hopefully them..."

[Donan]

He nods lightly. "You have the bridge. I'll go down to meet our crews as they come back across. And it may come down to that Lieutenant, yes. But any vessel is worth attempting to save, should it be possible.

Still.. if need be we'll evacuate all the untainted crew, salvage anything we can and cast it into the star."

[TechnoScrabble]

"Load the gahn-kottoor ahp," Jakkal orders as he disembarks from the tram, quelling another protest from his guts, "Wounded firzt, people who hweel ak-tchoo-ahlly make it. Hy'm not playink 'balancing act' today."