Holidays in the Sun [IC]

[Tigger]

All the associates of an Inquisitor cannot be loyal servants of the Imperium ready to lay down their lives for the glory of the Emperor, especially considering the skill set that is asked for in the work of the Inquisition. The Inquisitor cannot rely on a commissar to keep his acolytes in line, and they may, at any time, abandon their mission, become traitorous or lose the drive that led the Inquisitor to select them as part of his following. Most Inquisitors, especially puritan ones, rely on the threat of retribution, as acolytes have seen first hand the fate of those who caused the imperial wrath.

Thankfully for you, Inquisitor Lucan, your master, is of the opinion that a good Inquisitor takes care of his acolytes and rewards them when, against, all odds, they come back alive from their assignments. So when each of you received a letter from him congratulating you on the success of your respective missions with a ticket to Nineveh, the renowned Garden World of the sub-system, you were not that surprised. What was more surprising to you was the fact that, although you have worked alone up to now, Lucan has indicated to you that this retreat will allow to meet some of his other acolytes.

You have embarked on the Happy Wanderer, a fast clipper (rich people going to a Pleasure World are usually in a hurry to get there), and have taken possession of your luxurious cabin. You receive an invitation from the captain to join him and your fellow passengers for a seven-course dinner, and are on your way, walking in hallways covered in exotic carpets and illuminated by golden chandeliers, to meet your fellow acolytes.

[ArcturusV]

Whatever Rating that was responsible for Turndown Service on this voidcraft was bound to be in for a rude surprise when they came across the quarters that "Scab" just left. The place looked like Dark Eldar had come through and plundered the crap out of it. The bed was ripped to shreds, some of it by Chain Teeth, some of it by hands and teeth. Furniture was sundered, paintings and tapestries thrown to the floor, towels clogging up the toilet as it overflowed, glow globes smashed, vox-casters and dataslates ripped apart into a tangled mass of wires and casing.

And walking down the corridors, or rather slinking down them, was the creature known as "Scab". He was avoiding the main corridors. Every possession he had on his person, yes, even his weapons. He would never go anywhere without any of his possessions from his Pistol, to the trinket necklace of Vat Rat Teeth he wore. The only clothes he owned worn, his armor underneath it. He had a very closed posture, hands pulled up towards his chest, slumped over so that he was crouching along, slinking through the corridors to his meeting. When he heard someone coming, he would find the nearest alcove, archway, or column he could, some statue to the Emperor or a Saint, some artistic display, something, and duck behind it to hide.

Letters were never good omens. Attention was always a bad thing. Attention was what you got before someone put a bolt through your brain. Officers were to be feared. Nothing good came from officers like this "captain". Failure to be presentable for inspection, failure to have all gear on hand, failure to salute, all punishable by flogging to execution via Bolter to the Brain.

What did he do to draw their attention? What secret failing did they discover? If he didn't show up it was desertion, punishable by being shot. If he did show up it was likely, though not certain, to be punishable by being shot. Which way was right?

He slunk every onwards towards the meeting with this officer, growing dread as he kept pondering the questions.

[Warmatt]

The cabin Matthias was in was far to rich for his tastes. Gaudy excess and unneeded, frivolous decoration.... At his heart, he was a simple soul, content with a much smaller, coarser berth, with simple meals. For really, he was no highborn, no noble born into decadence and waste, even as he moved down the halls, his laspistol concealed, and only his staff, a metal rod made from the scrap of a voidship with the liquid metal core of a imperial faith censer. His clothes where serviceable, but simple, even as his cloak was clearly made for combat, and his boots tough leather, having seen extended use, his only decoration an simple Iron Torc with the high gothic words 'Disciplina, Imperii, Continere' engraved on it.

Still, as he walks the halls, faintly aware of furtive movement in the edges of his senses from time to time, he pays it little mind. On ships such as these, many will try and avoid sight, most of them the less fortunate or glamorous crew, the ones responsible for keeping things the way they are behind the scenes, hidden from the sight, and there was no hostile intent in the minds close by, so while suspicious, for threats may come as easily within as without, he lets it pass as he moves towards the dining area.

[Gospel Noctis]

Strapping on the last of her gear Zanna prepares herself to meet the ships captain in the dining hall. The heavy, foreboding clunk of her armored footsteps echoed rhythmically down the empty hallway as she exited the overly luxurious room that had been provided for her. Her massive form clad in the traditional black carapace armor for which all Arbitrators are known projected an air of menace, as the vicious looking shock maul swung steadily from it's waist strap.

Zanna had been recruited by Inquisitor Lucan a little over 4 years ago, and during all of her time working under the man she'd operated alone, seeking out and prosecuting anyone who dared to break Imperial Law. This trip had come as a surprise to the arbitrator. She simply wasn't accustomed to any real sort of vacation, and as such, she hadn't quite been sure what to do with herself on this trip. Still, this was a chance to get to know some of her fellow acolytes. It would certainly be interesting to see what other sorts of people the Inquisitor chose to entrust with the solemn duty of routing out threats to the Imperium.

[Caimheul]

Being on a vessel of any description again, even if it was not an Adeptus Mechanicus ship, was a welcome change for Tech-Priest Romulus Verduyn after spending months analyzing biological data in an Inquisitorial laboratory. He strides down the corridor carrying what few items he owns, including his autogun, albeit in a cloth rifle case. As he continues down the passageways, his mechadendrite occasionally caressing the servo skull floating alongside him in Techno-Lingua. <I agree Yasamine, this vessel does have a large quantity of wasted space. Can you believe they designated an entire room of this vessel for us, just us, to attend to biological functions? Astonishing!> A brief pause as if he is listening to someone respond prior to continuing. <My research shows that the item your are referring to is known as a> "bed." <Honestly, sleeping in a designated area every night, rather than the nearest available corner! Can you imagine the amount of time wasted traveling to and from that location?> he asks as he shakes his head. <Comfort? That hardly seems worth inefficiency. And this gathering to intake nutrients, seems a waste of time... I suppose you're right, there must be some social benefit to such a gathering...>

[dancrilis]

Lho

She had thought long and hard on a number of matters since she joined the Inquisition's pay roll, her core thought were about pay, perks and risk. The first and the last were meant to balance out the pay should justify the risks ... perks was really a new concept to consider and she had not wrapped her mind around it fully let.

It was on her mind a lot as she found herself lying down in clean water with a delicate material to clean dirt from herself - the explanation of the system had taken one of the ships servants a reasonable amount of time to explain, and she still wasn't sure she understood - particularly when the bottles containing smells has been presented.

Still as a benefit of working for the Inquisition she was finding it a suitable non-cash benefit now that she had experienced it, what the monetary value would be she was unsure - new bullets and maybe a scope would likely be more practical, as might a head covering for the bodyglove.

She also choose to make use of the wardrobe within the room, if the captain was used to upperhivers and the like it was better to dress the part, full pants, long coat with a buttoned vest and belt - covering the bodyglove underneath. The auto-pistol, rifle and chainsword were fully displayed, the sword on her left, and both guns at her right beside one another.

Walking through the corridors she reviewed the behaviours of those she saw and adopted the mannerisms of other guests - if it became necessary to eliminate them it became better to know how to act as one of them.

As such the woman who walked into the hall was vastly different than when she had boarded the ship in rags still covered in the in the stains of the sewer system she has used as a hiding hole while eliminating a a list of individuals that she had been told needed to die by Lucan's network - why they needed to die was not something she asked, but apparently it had lead to this reward.

[Tigger]

As you enter into the main dining room of the Happy Wanderer, you can realize how far this ship has come since the days when it was known as the Swift Condor (a brochure was placed in your rooms to amaze you with the tales of derring-do the Condor accomplished during its time as a blockade runner). The walls of the dining room, placed at the prow of the ship, are windows ten meters high, allowing the passengers to admire the starry night of space as they eat their sumptous meal.

The maître d’ leads the acolytes to one of the twenty or so tables. The room is filled with all sorts of members of the nobility, such as at least one cardinal in full garb and a general of the Imperial Guard armed with a bolter pistol as a ceremonial sidearm. As you sit down, the droning of the conversations calms down and the booming voice of Captain Taiko resonates in the room:

“Dear passengers, welcome aboard the Happy Wanderer. My crew and I truly hope that your travel on this beloved ship will be for you a first taste of the pleasures you will find on Nineveh, rather than an inconvenience to be tolerated on your way to a better place. If you have any wish, please ask me or one of my seconds, and be sure that we will do our utmost possible to make it come true. I wish you all a pleasant evening and trust that you will find the dinner worthy of your experienced palates.”

As soon as the applause becomes scattered, waiters come out of the service doors, and start serving you the first course of the meal.

[ArcturusV]

It was a minefield. As certain as those laid by any enemy army. "Scab's" eyes were wild, looking around the various tables, recognizing the markings of people that all had the authority to put a bolt in his brainpan. He struggled to stand up straight, his body far more used to slinking along than being upright, but knowing that failure to present himself could at least result in lashings, if not direct execution. He walked forward on unsteady legs as some servant tried to guide him to the table.

It was a slow process. Not because of his lack of comfort, though that was clearly present, he stood out like a sore thumb with his build, his rags, and his relatively crude weapons on hand. But no, it was because he demanded to stand still, salute to officers, kneel with the aquila to the priests, and so forth, only moving on when he was properly dismissed by the senior officials. Hopefully that would keep them from executing him. Protocol had to be obeyed at all times. Any slip of protocol was HERESY. HERESY was punishable by field sanctions. Field Sanctions often took the form of a bolter being fired through the back of the head.

What would have taken the other acolytes 2 minutes, would have took the nervous, trembling man stumbling over his salutes and bowing a solid 15. Every moment was a fight not to just turn and run screaming from the large space, maybe find some ductwork to hide in, where things were nice and safe.

When he got to his chair, he crouched on it, up on the balls of his feet rather than sitting properly. His shoulders were hunched up hard, and sharp little eyes kept glancing back and forth, expecting something to happen...

... when the applause sounded he jumped off his chair, sending it to the floor in a clatter as he took cover under the table. He was reaching for his Autopistol when he realized the loud noise may NOT have been a sign of imminent battle. Slowly his head peeked out from under the tablecloth, looking back across the room, and scanning the table he had ducked under for signs of brewing trouble, or what the proper protocol here was.

[Gospel Noctis]

Zanna was completely out of her element here. She was meant to be knee deep in the bodies of heretics and law breakers, or putting the screws to some poor sod she felt was withholding critical information. Not standing here listening to the ships Captain drone on about nothing to a bunch of know-nothing nobles who'd likely be better off ferreting out trouble in their own territories than wasting time being pampered on Nineveh.

But, when it came down to it, she was a woman of duty and her duty as an acolyte was to follow the instructions of her Inquisitor; assuming, of course, that those instructions did not go against greater imperial law. And as such she had, for some reason or another, been instructed to enjoy herself on this 'vacation'. So despite her personal feelings on the issue, she would endure the trials before her and march on as she always had.

That said, this was also a chance to observe and get to know some of the other acolytes in service to Inquisitor Lucan. This seemed to include one such fellow who stood out like a sore thumb. This person, though she was hesitant to call him such due to his appearance, was almost definitely an acolyte. His posture, worn clothes, and non-ornamental weaponry being carried on his person were all indicative of his station as either an acolyte, invited on this trip by Lucan himself, or some sort of armed stowaway. Emperor have mercy on his poor soul if it turned out to be the latter.

She found herself seated beside this nervous wreck of a person. The more she watched him the more unsure she became as to his status as a servant of the Imperium. Granted, Inquisitors were known for taking on strange and somewhat eccentric individuals under their wings, but would Lucan really hire one such as he? As the applause sounded the man literally sprang from his seat before making a move for the pistol at his side.

Reflexively grasping for her own weapon she prepared herself to subdue the strange individual, halting only when he seemed to calm down on his own. She'd seen such actions before, typically from old soldiers whose mind had never really left the battlefield from which they'd been broken. A sign of dangerous instability for sure, but an instability that could serve one well in truly hostile situations. Relaxing slightly and removing her own hand from her preferred weapon, she called out to the stranger.

"Are you well?" She inquired, voice stern, though not without at least a hint of sympathy for what was likely a fellow colleague.

[ArcturusV]

"Scab" froze when he heard a voice directed at him. In that few seconds, his mind took in the whole of Zanna, working overtime to rationalize what was going on.

She was one of THOSE, the guys with the sticks. She didn't look like one of them though. Something different. But the armor and marking was clear. Definitely one of those with the sticks. He remembered the sticks. He never faced the sticks, but he had seen it enough. When someone did something and one of Those came and smacked 'em with a stick. They went down like a sack of dead vat rats when the stick hit them. It happened seemingly randomly. He didn't know what caused the Stickers to come out and do their Stick things. Others seemed to understand, but he didn't.

She had one of those sticks on her. Was she coming to use it? She was looking right at him. Was he going to get Sticked? What would happen if he stopped the Stick? Would one of the officers shoot him with their bolters? The Stickers seemed important, people treated them as such. How did one talk to a Sticker? All he really remembered was expletives then the sound of people hitting the ground. He didn't think it'd be a good idea to shout those expletives out. That only seemed to make the Stickers Stick you harder.

All that ran in his head in perhaps about a second and a half before he blinked up at the Sticker. She had gone for her Stick, someone, probably him, was going to get Sticked. That thing she asked... he had never heard those words spoken before. At least not strung together. Curious. Was it some new trap to fall into?

"I..." he stumbled over his own tongue, not sure how to follow it up. He frowned and his brow furrowed as he tried to navigate the traps laid out before him, "I... Private 'Scab'." Most important big wigs expected the name that they gave him. He knew that. They'd forget it near instantly. Not important enough for them. But they still expected it. Name and Rank. That's what he was supposed to do.

He knelt down, sliding out from under the table. Head bowed, making the sign of the Aquila as they had beat into him when addressing his superiors outside of the Guard, after all. His nose sniffed at the air, picking up the strange scents of the things being carried out to the table.

[Warmatt]

Moving to the table, he had seen the reactions. Strange in a way, but he could sympathize. While not a member of a penal regiment, and he had little doubt that was where the unfortunate soul came from, he too had a gun pointed at his head near constantly, testing him for the slightest crack, the thinnest weakness, and he would be executed as a danger to those around him. So while he was bound by a different fear, the fear had been there.

Yet as he sat on the other side of him, the 'Scab' between him and the Arbiter, he had something approaching a friendly smile on his face as he ignored the pomp and ceremony, ignored the applause. Really, it was a waste. Give him a nice quiet library any day of the cycle, and he would be content.

"Easy there Private. Savant Militant Matthias Pyrebrand, used to be attached to the Azerothian 42nd." His tone is warm and calm, his eyes searching, even as he gave a military salute, not strictly needed for a private, but still should be a source of comfort to a guardsman.

[Caimheul]

The tech-priest earns a few sidelong glances as he enters the dining area, whether these were due to the shock of seeing one of his order seemingly travelling to a pleasure world as a guest, or the shock that a tech-priests even required food is unknowable. Regardless, Romulus did not seem to notice their attention, continuing to mutter in Techna-Lingua.
<These people sure do like to make a production out of everything. Honestly, I swear it's like they don't even care about the cycles lost to frivolities... I suppose you are right, wasting time is one way to demonstrate relative importance... Why you're right that IS a cardinal over there perhaps on a religious retreat to the pleasure planet? ... That's quite rude to say, I at least don't fully understand their methods of worshiping, so unless you have some greater insight you are simply assuming the worst of that fellow Yasamine.> The "conversation" between the tech-priest and servo skull reaches it's conclusion about the same time the reach the table.

<Thank y...> "Ahem, Thank you," he says to the maître d’ prior to taking a seat, which groans under the weight of his bionics. The tech priest uses his mechadendrite as a fifth leg for the chair taking some of the strain off of the wooden furniture. He mentally records the speech for review later as he picks up one of the various dining utensils laid out next to a space, presumably which will soon be filled with food. "Fascinating devices..." he says more to himself than anyone else. One of his dining companions suddenly diving under the table draws his attention. "Did you drop something Private Scab, or is that a traditional response on your homeworld to that noise? Applause, that's the word thank you," he says to no one as a clear broth is placed in front of each guest. He places his... Spork? No, spoon, back down and extends a straw from the grill that has replaced the bottom half of his face into the bowl.

[dancrilis]

Lho

She applauded with the others, smiling vacantly from her seat as her eyes scanned the room picking out vantage points, bottlenecks and targets. She was seated opposite the private Scab and she focused on him intently - her eyes taking on a hardness as she studied him.

The under hives were populated with many like him, wretches that had no place in society - normally abandoned at birth and occasionally taken in by mutants or gangs, and who never settled in with society, he was either here because of some skills that she did not know of or as entertainment for the nobility - a public execution for some perceived slight to demonstrate someone's personal power. She might be asked to do it herself.

Her voice cold as she spoke to him in a hiss that would likely be heard by others nearby but shouldn't carry "you are attracting attention - stop it. Copy the behaviour of the natives and don't spook them", it was good advice, but she didn't want him to attract to much attention to her either collateral damage she might suffer was on her mind.

Taking in the others she began to assign threat to them, the woman first, than Scab, followed by the techpriest, and finally the other man. Not the most through assessment particularly as the techpriest could have any hidden abilities and the others might be in her own line of work - but as a baseline it was fine.

[Gospel Noctis]

"At ease, Private. Zanna Valjk'n, Arbitrator of the Adeptus Arbites, formerly stationed on Vul'karta 21." She introduced, nodding to and taking the measure of those gathered around her. These others, they too were likely Lucans men. They were an odd bunch, definitely lacking the air of nobility many of the passengers, or the decorated medals and tokens of station possessed by the higher ranked officers on board. "And while I do applaud you on your vigilance and swift reaction time, I do not believe this to quite be the time and place to act on such things."

"So then, shall I assume you all are also here by invitation from Lucan?"

[ArcturusV]

There was far too much attention on him. Attention was never good. Obscurity was better. Nothing good came when he had someone's attention. But for the moment the trap was being baited. No one brought out that Stick, or a Bolter, or anything else. It reminded him of when he'd put out small bits of morsels. Waiting with a rock in his hand, sometimes for hours for one of those Vat Rats to come by. Watching it get comfortable, start nibbling on the free food. Even let it go and lure it back in. Waiting until the Vat Rat seemed to completely forget about the presence of him. And then it was the rock.

Where was the rock? Which one of them trying to lure him in was holding it? He was pinned it by two people already. Lots were watching him, at least as he reckoned the word lots. He glanced at each of them in turn. Only one had a relatively familiar bearing. But he knew well enough that familiarity just meant that someone was as potentially cutthroat and survival minded as he was himself. No instant kinship, anyone who shared anything in common with him wouldn't think twice about splattering him on some whim.

He straightened up his chair, and crawled back onto it, once again sitting on his own feet, rather than his ass, hunched over in the chair. He seemed to be staring intently at the center of the table, as if there was some nigh invisible microbe there which he could spot and was following on some epic pilgrimage in the microcosm.

"The Fancy Hat," he said. A confirmation of Lucan or just random words? He didn't move his eyes from that spot, and the words were delivered in a dead whisper. "Man of the lamp." His eyes scanned the people at the table, starting with the Sticker, and ending with the fellow guardsman. "Who dies?"

[Warmatt]

Looking at the man, Matthias decided to take a closer look, to try and discover just what it is the man meant. Still, he would keep it as subtle as possible, while he reached out with his mind.


Opposed WP Test (WP 45);[roll0]

[ArcturusV]

His mind was a place not of words and logical, orderly thought, but images and impressions as it spread out before the Telepath. It was a chaotic jumble, where one thought clashed with another. Fear was a normal experience, as was hatred. You could see him smashing a rat the size of a Grox with a Rock to the Skull in some dark depth, images of death all around him, ones he was only a spectator to, images that would be familiar enough to you. Commissars and Officers dispensing battlefield justice. Fiery priests in their golden robes setting flame to everything around them, friend or foe while screaming out incomprehensible litanies, at least incomprehensible in the mind of "Scab". But in this swirling mess was a Man in a Hat. A man familiar to you as well, the Inquisitor that they worked for. The hat was the only thing really distinct about him, but the impressions of him seemed familiar, and the Inquisitorial Rosette that seemed to back light the man like some Illuminated Scripture's image of a Saint's Holiness was hard to mistake. That Man in a Hat walked through the carnage and violence in the man's mind, an orderly eye in the storm. He seemed to shine with light in a place that was lightless as a whole. He had the only color in the mind of "Scab", everything else washed out and grey. The Man in the Hat pulled out something, and it glowed with a brightness that hurt to look at, no longer able to look upon him. Screaming, lots of screaming. Some of it human, some of it not.

And meanwhile, "Scab" sat there, noticing nothing, just staring at the people around the table, with his closed off posture.

[Caimheul]

A soft humming noise accompanies the action of the soup being drawn up the straw the tech-priest has extended from the area of his face that would hold a jaw were he not part machine. He continues to talk, as if the portion of his construction involved in speaking were somehow separate from the part involved in intaking nutrients. "That is a name that is familiar to me as well Arbitrator Valjk'n." <Yes I know not to mention that> "I would be unsurprised should that be the case for all those of us at this table." <No I will not place a bet with you on that, and that isn't a very nice thing to say about him. You only just met him and are making very nasty assumptions. I swear you are so embarrassing Yasamine!> he says switching between Low Gothic and Techna-Lingua, eyes darting to where the silent servo-skull floats every time he emits what sounds like static punctuated by beeps to the others present.

[dancrilis]

Lho

Her eyes flicked to the other woman when she mentioned the Adeptus Arbites - a bunch of busy bodies with to much power and time on there hands in her opinion, interfering with ordinary decent killers as they went about their business.

"Indeed that would likely be my employer also", she preferred not to name employers or even confirm them - but if she would be working with these people it made sense to admit things.

Returning to 'Private Scab's' question - "everyone eventually - but you are probably safer here than most places you have probably been" shrugging "which isn't saying much".

"No official job, designated Lho by your lot" she nodded to Zanna, she wondered about if Adeptus Arbites across planets had such designations and if they matched in meaning.

[Gospel Noctis]

Taking note of Lho's noncommittal answer Zanna turns back to the newly introduced Private Scab. "Indeed, it is as she says. This trip seems to be one of," She pauses, a strange look of distaste flashing across her lightly scarred features. "Relaxation, and coddling."

She ponders for a moment, briefly considering whether or not she should ask how the various members of this motley crew managed to find themselves in the employ of an Inquisitor, though the notion was quickly discarded. The story was usually the same. They did something or note and the Inquisitor found out about it, as the Inquisitor seems to find out about everything else. He likely approached them through cat's paws along whatever channel was most advantageous for him and enlisted them into his service.

[Caimheul]

"Really? I presumed this excursion was to expose me to to the social mores and contracts of the Imperium. Of course, Yasamine claims otherwise, but she does tend to be a bit of a try-catch loop," the tech-priest says as he slurps the last of his soup, patting the servo-skull floating next to him affectionately.

[dancrilis]

Lho

She shrugged "I suspect there is a job waiting and the employer wants to see how any assigned team operates on what might appear to be a fairly simple task that is better handled by more than one set of skills - likely in preparation for more complex tasks in the future", glancing around the room "although it might be more than that - and have already started", looking at the tech-priest "is there some trick you can use to access a passenger manifest or the like" she had bought such from the priests before "think I might mingle - if this is a test or if the room has employment opportunities might look after dinner".

[ArcturusV]

"Scab" started intently staring at the Tech-Priest. He didn't hide it at all. He seemed to be looking for something between the metal and the flesh of the Tech-Priest's face.

He was the only one who consumed this... goop. It looked weird. It smelled weird. No one else had touched it. It probably was poisoned. Or maybe it was meant only for those who had the metal bits on them. "Scab" had seen a few before in the Guard. They were weird creatures. Not human. Not as far as he could tell. They also had unusual abilities like him. But no one boltered or burned them. Maybe because they couldn't get the fires hot enough to burn the metal? Maybe he was sent to kill the Metal Man? He certainly was behaving odd and had the powers of Heresy, with his floating dead head. But the Red Robed Metal Men were supposed to be okay. Maybe. He wasn't too clear on it, just knowing no one seemed to mind them.

... was he going to keel over and die? Did the Fancy Hat poison the goop in order to kill the Metal Man? That would explain the rotten smell. Do Metal Men not have smell? Interesting weakness. No one else was touching it. Clearly it was dangerous, and only he failed to detect that.

Maybe this was like the Heresy Tests he had seen? If a man dies consuming it, they were Pure. If they lived, they were HERESY, and had to be killed. Made as much sense as anything else. It clearly was not food of any type that "Scab" was familiar with.

It never occurred to him that the "food" he was familiar with would probably be considered odd by others. When Corpse Starch is seen as high class food by someone, well...

[Caimheul]

The tech-priest emits a brief burst of white noise at Lho's request, as if unsure how to respond. "I suppose theoretically such a thing would be possible, but I have little enough experience with such activities myself. My former primary function consisted of the growth, manipulation, and enhancement of biological components, primarily for the creation of servitors. My subsequent functionality has incorporated elements of biological analysis, repairing damaged biological systems, and on one occasion, assisting in the replacement of inferior components with bionics," he says proudly as the tube retracts into his face, oblivious to Scab's stare.

[dancrilis]

Lho

She started a little as the white noise, but collected herself again quickly and listened as the man explained his function. She was a bit at a loss as to what he meant so noting that he had started on his first course as had others in the area she began to nibble at the bread tentatively dipping on into the soup at times as she puzzled it out. Focusing on what seemed to be the core items growth ... biological components, subsequent functionality ... biological systems, "so you are a fungus and vermin farmer and occasional doc" she said with a little respect "could be useful".

Difficult jobs in the underhive - everyone trying to steal your stuff, and established operators trying to remove competition.

[Caimheul]

<Quit laughing, it isn't that funny> "Fungus and vermin? Are you unfamiliar with servitors?" Romulus asks incredulously. Without waiting for a response he launches into an explanation. "Servitors are moderately complicated systems, fusing blessed machine parts with human flesh to produce servants capable of fulfilling a variety of tasks such as porters, patrolling security facilities, assisting with repairs, etcetera. The human components are either vat grown, mind wiped criminals, or occasionally critically wounded guardsmen. Those that die before we can graft the necessary components onto them are instead turned into servo-skulls like Yasamine. So I do not have the necessary knowledge packets to cultivate rodents or fungi."

[dancrilis]

Lho

She listened as she finished the started, muttering as she did "tis good" with a hint of surprise. "Seen them a bit more recently - but the core rules I grew up with would say that isn't human, a wall or a weapon so better to kill it, and most times it was better to kill the humans also", pointing at the servitor "exception would be the stock of vermin farmers and to a lesser extent the farmer themselves - cause you could eat the stock later and they could make more of themselves with the farmers supervision. A respectable and useful profession - pity you ain't one, always work for a fungus and vermin farmer".

Glancing around the room again to see if she saw other servitors "so what was that one and what does it do?" she had seen a few of them recently often armed to the teeth and guarding targets, if the man could make them turn on there owners it could be a good elimination tool - but how that worked she had no idea, could servitors talk to each other or would they need to be taken away and broken to do what you wanted.

[ArcturusV]

He didn't seem to be dying. Nor was anyone else really eating the goop, excepting the woman who had addressed him earlier. He felt a little bit of revulsion at the thing, it didn't look like food after all, and the strange manners they were eating it in seemed a bit disgusting to him. He wondered when the real food would be brought out. Bloody meat, or hard, brittle chompy stuff, the things he was actually used to and knew he could safely consume. Sure the Metal Man hadn't keeled over, but maybe that was because he was a metal man? Maybe Lho would keel over dead from the poison. Maybe it was the Metal Man's poison meant to harm others? Maybe no one's goop was poisoned EXCEPT his... it wouldn't be the strangest way to kill someone that he had seen in his years.

"He grows real food?" 'Scab' asked to clarify the Metal Man's role. That did suggest he could be a poisoner more easily perhaps. And also to keep Lho talking, noting any changes in her behavior as whatever toxins lurked might have taken their toll upon her.

[Caimheul]

"On such a violent world I'd imagine there is ample employment opportunities for weaponsmiths and medical professionals as well." Romulus observes aloud as he looks in the direction indicated by Lho, quickly spotting the ostentatiously gilded servitor. "That appears to be a high end cleaning servitor, likely constructed by a Technomancer. Note the Ryza pattern waste suction device, capable of removing the deepest, ground in grime with only minor damage to the carpet fibers, the Voss Prime pattern bionic senses capable of detecting dirt under a rug from fifty cubits distant, and fascinating! one of the new M'khand pattern impeller units, those have only been in production for a century," he says admiring the craftsmanship of the servitors mechanical parts, before turning to the servo-skull with a start.
<What?! Of course I prefer you to that gaudy thing. I do not understand why biologics believe that the appearance of the device matters,> he beeps before answering Scab's inquiry thoughtfully.
"Well, it would have been wasteful to burn or eject from the ship any unused biological portions, and occasionally the biological components would either mature too quickly while we were waiting for a resupply of bionic components or some quantity of vats would encounter an error. We had a processing facility on the vessel to turn such things into protein both for consumption by those of the ships crew that required such things. The few times we had an overabundance, such as while filling a large order with materials gathered by a planet's arbitrators, we would turn the excess into corpse starch for the local populace," he says, once again examining a spoon.
<Honestly, this device is much less efficient than utilizing a tube and suction device or simply lifting the bowl to one's orifice... What do you mean I'm being rude? Introduce us? But certainly they can just scan our... Oh.> I have been told to apologize for my earlier rudeness. I am Tech-Priest Romulus Verduyn, formerly stationed on the Adeptus Biologicus vessel Mendelian Hereditas, and this is Utility Servo-skull unit Y4-74M-1N3."

[Gospel Noctis]

Zanna begins to dig into her food, grimacing slightly as the taste of such high class food plays havoc on her unprepared taste buds. Listening carefully as her fellow acolytes conversed, speaking of their various stations and giving insight into their lives, she continues to catalog the important points being made, taking particular note of any impressive skills each seemed to possess.

They were, without a doubt, an eccentric lot so she couldn't quite be sure how skilled they truly were. Though if Lucan thought them worth keeping there was little doubt that each of them must be fairly proficient in their chosen field. The tech-priest specifically seemed to boast an impressive pool of knowledge. Everything about Lho on the other hand screamed assassin. She was most likely a sneaky one, of that Zanna was fairly sure. As for Private "Scab", as he'd introduced himself, he was a bit of a mystery. Extremely jittery and prone to fight or flight reactions it seemed, but other than that...

And then there was the relatively quiet Matthias Pyrebrand. A Savant-Militant. In other words, a Psyker. She'd seen the sort of messes Psykers got into, even those sanctioned by the Imperium. Every single one of them was little more than a walking, unstable time bomb just waiting to go off at the worst of times. She'd have to be sure to keep an eye on that one, preferably from a safe distance.

[ArcturusV]

"Why For," 'Scab' repeated the designation of the floating death icon. "Why For, Why For?" he chuckled to himself as if he had made some truly epic joke that had forever changed the very nature of comedy itself. He shifted on his feet, making sure to reposition so his legs didn't go numb from spendign so long crouched down here, waiting for death to come to for them.

His eyes glanced over at Zanna now that Zanna was eating too. Someone here was going to die. It just had to be with such foul smelling stuff. It couldn't be safe to consume. Was it the Sticker? That could make sense. People probably didn't like getting Sticked. He imagined it hurt a lot. Did one of them get Sticked and wanted to rid the place of a Sticker? Who did the Stick go to if she died? Was he supposed to take up the stick and scream "LUH!" while bashing people? Was that how it goes?

The confusion was plain on his face as he pondered the question of Arbiter succession and his own role in this strange meeting.

[dancrilis]

Lho

Looking at Scab - "in short no he doesn't make real food, normally" she finished off the rest of her food quickly it had been a while, flicking her eyes towards the Tech-Priest "he makes them" looking at the servitor "from people, same as he makes food from sort of, if I understood him properly".

"What does the Y4 do than - armed protection, cleaning ...", she had meant about the man's own one earlier even as her eyes noted the others, but a poor habit of pointing at one thing and looking at another.

Returning her attention to Scab he hadn't touched his food - likely he was concerned about it, well his loss was her gain - she pointed "I'll take that if you don't want it" she didn't reach out yet if she pegged him right he would not give it up now that someone else wanted it and reaching for it would be seen as trying to steal, but if he didn't defend it that he likely didn't think it was his and she could feed herself up.

Keeping an eye on his food as she waited an opening, her focus turned back to the tech-priest "what is it about the spoon you are looking for?" she asked.

[Warmatt]

Shaking his head just a bit, he looks at Scab, somewhat wary, even of he does not say anything. Still, he watches and waits, used to being on the outside, and taking a sort of comfort from it. Still, as he looked to his soup, he took a small sip. Really, a bit too rich for his comfort, but from the sound if it, Scab knew only Corpse Starch. Yet, it would not surprise him.

So, his eyes keen, he would sample his food, while watching the others. Really, it was quite entertaining.

[Caimheul]

"Well, Y4-74M-1N3, or Yasamine as she prefers to be called, is an example of a servo-skull. Servo-skulls differ from servitors in many key areas, the most obvious of which being that the servo-skull requires the skull of a deceased creature as opposed to the still living body required for a servitor. Additionally, servo-skulls utilize anti-gravity units to both suspend themselves off of the ground and for locomotion. Yasamine here is an example of a utility servo-skull to assist me in performing the appropriate rituals for the repair and maintenance of various items of machinery. Prior to being honoured with the transformation into a servo-skull, she served valiantly in the Yanth 412th Light Infantry Regiment, falling in battle while allowing several other regiments to strategically re-deploy while serving on Myros Kappa," Romulus states in a pleased tone of voice, happy to have seemingly found a willing audience.
"As for my fascination with this spoon, that stems from having never held or even seen one before. There is no need for such devices on Mechanicus vessels."

[Caimheul]

Romulus's mind appears as a room of pigeonholes full of scrolls, stretching so high up that clouds obscure the upper reaches. Servo-skulls flit between the various slots, occasionally rearranging the scrolls, or bringing one down to the two figures standing at a workbench in the center of the room. One of the figures is recognizable as Romulus, while the other an unknown woman with the same bionics on her face as the tech-priest's servo-skull companion, wearing the uniform of an Imperial Guard Sergeant. One of the scrolls is opened before the figures by the servo-skull carrying it, revealing a blueprint for a spoon.

[dancrilis]

Lho

Her thoughts were somewhat divergent - one area of them was consistently targeting everything around her with crosshairs and various other symbols, most people received clear read cross-hairs or varying brightness, items of interest appeared with gentler colours, and things without her interest appeared with a dull grey marker ... noted but not important. The servo-skull was grabbing a lot of her attention - or more directly the space beneath it verging from the read to the gentler and back to the red again.
The other half of her thoughts were wildly different, enjoying clean clothes and new food, wondering about the room and employment - some shadier looking individuals already pegged as possible conversation targets, and a strange affection for the private Scab something resembling nostalgia.

"Odd that you wouldn't have a spoon for visiting guests or dignitaries" she stated, taking her eyes off Scab's food and her attention mostly off it, she turned fully to the tech-priest "so if you can make that fly via that 'anti-gravity' could you make me a pack that would allow me to also fly or hover at decent height quitely? could be useful", if she could sit in a smug cloud and snipe targets unseen and unexpected it would be highly beneficial.

[Caimheul]

"Perhaps, but at my rank within the order, such an encounter would be outside the realm of my responsibilities. Additionally, the Mendelian Hereditas lacks a dedicated area for intaking sustenance, so such an interaction would be unlikely. It is further my understanding that many unenhanced humans have difficulties ingesting the nutrients typically utilized by the Mechanicus without further processing than the vessel undertakes," the tech-priest observes.
<Calm yourself, I certain she is just unenlightened...>"Unfortunately, such an endeavour is impossible for me. My speciality lies with the functions of organic beings and the integration of machines with living or former living tissue. A device similar to what you describe is known as a grav-chute, and most frequently employed by certain regiments of the Imperial Guard."

[ArcturusV]

"Eye gouger," 'Scab' clarified as people were talking about the spoon. He grabbed one up, and with a simple motion seemed to demonstrate the maneuver of sliding the spoon in and popping out an eye on a face hovering above the table. "Infiltration tool." He set the spoon aside in one of his pockets, never knowing when he'd need an eye gouger after all. He seemed to be the only one who actually knew how to use it after all, clearly the metal man and the person to his right did not. Strange people, very strange.

And "Scab" has acquired a spoon.

SPOOOOOON!

Edit: 'Scab' looked around curiously for a moment. Almost like a meerkat, back straightening up a little more, his eyes scanning over the room as a whole. His arms were drawn up to his chest as he did, seeming to look for something he heard or caught out of the corner of his eye or something. It wasn't quick, frantic spotting, but it was definitely looking for something.

He sniffed at the air, and his face crinkled up as if he smelled something truly foul, not quite to the point of being vomit inducing, but clearly repugnant to the senses. He hopped down off the chair, and waddled in a crouch under the table again. As he did go under the table, you saw him reaching for his blade and his pistol, gripping them in a combat ready grip. As soon as he was under the table, and out of sight, he was pulling them out. He turned his back to the center of the table and the large leg there (I presume), weapons out as if he was preparing for some last stand.

[Gospel Noctis]

The first thing you notice when delving into the mind of Zanna are the myriad screams and pleas for mercy reverberating down the long black metal walls of her psyche.

"PLEASE, I DIDN'T-"

"I'LL TALK! I'LL TALK!! PLEASE! IT WAS-"

"I DON'T KNOW~!!"

A room opened up at the end of the reinforced corridor, revealing what seemed to be some sort of large torture chamber. Every sort of device imaginable littered the room, and strapped tightly into each one was the likeness of a person; their features shifting every few seconds. Size, color, and even gender changing with disorienting frequency, though there was one thing that remained consistent between them. Every single one of them lacked any sort of facial features, their faces little more than blank canvases of flesh. Yet even lacking a mouth, each and everyone one of them still manged to scream.

Attending to each of the victims was Zanna, or to be more precise, some version of Zanna. It was as if someone had taken a copy of her from every point in her life and gathered them here, all to assist in the interrogation of countless heretics, law breakers, or those whose silence would aid either. In the middle of the seemingly boundless room was a raised platform, and sitting there on a simple throne made of unyielding black metal and surrounded by barbed wire was the woman as you had met her. Her massive armored form more relaxed than you'd ever seen her, as her half-lidded gaze roamed the room, surveying all that transpired. A smile of absolute serenity gracing her lips as she continued to listen to the symphony of screams and confessions around her.

[Caimheul]

"Interesting. I was unaware such a simple device had so many varied uses," Romulus observes with a newfound respect for the spoon. He looks up from the spoon, brow furrowed in confusion at Scabs behaviour. "I say, is everything all right? Is this some custom of which I am unaware?"

[Tigger]

Before Scab has the time to explain his strange behaviour, the sound of a knife being gently tapped on a glass calls the room to silence. The captain has once again risen from his seat.

“Guests, we are about to enter the Immaterium. Prepare yourselves to be amazed as we plunge into the Sea of Souls as you will be able to observe the mysteries of the Warp from our most advantageous position. Not a lot of mortals have been able to gaze into this void without becoming insane, but our modified Gellar Field will protect you from the dangers of admiring this terrible view. I have taken the liberty to ask Cardinal Cazale to lead us into prayer to ask for the blessing of the Emperor as we start our journey.”

You now see the portly Cardinal get up and soon, a voice formed to address larger assemblies in larger buildings fills the room.

“Fellow travelers, we ask the God Emperor of Mankind to guide us as we enter the realm of his enemies. Emperor, even though you sit on the Golden Throne on Blessed Terra, wounded by Traitors who thought themselves higher than the one who is highest of all, you shine your light in the darkness of the Empyrean, and thus allow your subjects to stand together as one great Imperium. Hear our prayer Emperor, and protect us as we enter the void.”

And, as the Cardinal, and the whole room with him, places his hands in the Aquila, you see the blackness of space being torn up in front of the ship, and through the tear that has appeared, the terrifying waves and currents of Warpspace. Soon, this terrible view fills the whole window, and you have entered the Realm of Chaos.

In just a short time, you feel that something wrong has happened: the metallic taste in your mouth, the trembling of your hands, the feeling that something is lurking just outside your range of vision are only the first sign. Soon, blood lust invades your mind and you feel that only the strongest resolve will allow you to remain in control of your soul.

So this is going to be a Willpower test. Scab gets a +20 as he knew this was coming. The rest of you get a +10, as Scab's strange behavior means you are not caught completely unaware.

Should you fail the test, you'll have to roll for Shock, plus gain 1d5 corruption.

[ArcturusV]

It almost took hold of him. He wasn't sure what it was. Not in the academic sense. Just a sense of wrongness and yet familiarity. Bringing him back to the dark depths that most men, history, the Imperium, and others had forgotten back on the world of Sinares. There was a familiarity to it, and that wasn't a comforting thought. He could feel his chainsword rattling as the corruption almost overtook him. How easy it would be to squeeze down on that autopistol firing stud, and riddle everyone around him with metal slugs.

He kept it down, maintaining his control, not squeezing off those shots and revving up the chainsword. He knew out there, outside the underside of the table that it would be a madhouse. He had seen it before, but he couldn't remember where. People would rip each other apart, others be trampled to death, blood would flow.

But he was safe down here in the relative darkness. The darkness was his protector. The cover kept the eyes off of him. They would rampage, and he would be safe.

Safe.

Then killing.

[Warmatt]

He never liked warp travel, not once what he found out what he was. While an ordinary mind was a light in the warp, he was a beacon, and felt it constantly. Still, he was sanctioned on Holy Terra, trained to marshal his will, and protect both mind and soul, even as he gazes into the darkness of the warp. A faint sneer, one having hatred in it's base forms on it's lip as he gazes into the warp, even as he rises.

Do they have no understanding of how dangerous this is? While the Priest would be better able to warn them of perversions in the machine, he knew enough to know that you did not interfere or change the devices that protected souls from the warp! Better then most, he knew that.

Still, his mind a fortress, he looks around, attempting to see if any would have gripped by the bloodlust, before preparing to talk to the priest, and see if this variation on a critical protective measure was sanctioned, or if it was not.

[Caimheul]

At the word "modified" Romulus begins making a noise like a wire sparking. This lasts for the remainder of the Captain's speech before he seemingly snaps himself out of whatever for loop he was stuck in and begins emitting beeps and tones furiously but quietly. The biological portions of his face are growing red, and a scowl is visible around his eyes. <What nullpointerexception had their ethics.exe program crash to engage in THAT tech-heresy?! That poor abused machine spirit! Yes the Magos Juris does need to be notified, but parts of my brain are still loose from the last time they questioned me. If we survive this ClassNotFound.>

[dancrilis]

Lho

"Yes the spoon is a marvel of function, can be used as a weapon, feeding both liquid and solid, tapping out messages to people, if shiny enough looking around corners, interrogation, personal grooming ..." she would have went on but Scab's behaviour attracted her attention, there was no noise unexpected noise this time had he noted something she had not ...

It was at this moment that the captain started to speak, she didn't want to see what most people were not meant to see ... they likely didn't see it for a reason, but if this was what noble did it was better to observe she figured, as the fat man started to speak she began to focused on the window to see what the big deal was and as it changed she felt her soul crack.

The taste of metal in her mouth, spend casings, blood, underhive water all flooded her taste buds, than she saw the shapes shadows moving on there own, old enemies coming back to get her - fear lanced through her pervasive of the entire ship, and than the anger - cold and hard anger. The Captain and the fat man had brought this to them they were seeing what was not meant to be seen and she was suffering from it, the crystal thought in her mind was that if the left this place she would be free and safer - and the best method of that might be to kill those that brought them here.

Readying her rifle she began to take aim at the captain.


Using a Half Action to Draw her weapon.
Using a Half Action to aim at the captain.

Initiative (of needed): [roll0]

[Gospel Noctis]

The haunting glow of the Immaterium poured through the windows, casting everything on board in its sinister light. A sharp, almost shocking jolt raced up her spine as the ship progressed further into warpspace, the unfamiliar feeling setting her on guard. It wasn't until the ship was fully immersed in the Sea of Souls that the passengers were fully assaulted by the madness inducing forces of the Warp. It's power flowing through the ship, assailing the fragile mortal minds of those on board.

Zanna steeled herself against the corruptive energies as they washed over her mind, her will an impenetrable fortress. The Warps unfocused flood of influence broke as it smashed against the walls of her will, instead flowing around her in search of less stalwart fortifications. She was on her feet in an instant, one hand reaching for the helm sitting on the table before her, the other drawing the bludgeon resting at her side. If the power of the Immaterium had breached the shields there is no telling what sort of mental state those of weaker fortitude were in. While her fellow acolytes seemed to be relatively stable, there was no telling what these weak-willed noblemen would react. Order must be maintained.

[Tigger]

“The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of of passionate intensity.”

All hell has broken loose in the dining room. The numerous guests that have succumbed to the blood lust have armed themselves with cutlery. You can see wives stabbing their husbands with steak knives, fathers gouging the eyes of their children with dessert spoons, cousins bashing the heads of their cousins with chandeliers. The cries of those being killed are covered by the roars of those doing the killing. Only your table seems to have come out mostly unscathed of the warp intrusion and, for now, the murderous diners have not turned towards you.

Closest to the group of acolytes is the main table, where the cardinal and the captain are standing back to back trying to keep at bay with their chairs three ship officers that have drawn their ceremonial swords and are hacking away the foots of the chairs as well as two priests who are trying to bash their heads with their crosier. Not much too far, you can see a Rogue Trader defending himself from his wife and children, less accustomed than him to the perils of the warp.

[Gospel Noctis]

Swiftly taking stock of the situation the armored behemoth walks forward and grabs hold of the barrel of Lhos gun, tightly gripping the firearms as she forces it's sights away from the captain.

"I want the captain and all engineers found taken alive and able to speak." She growls, meeting the assassins gaze with a cold hard stare. "There are questions that need to be answered and I will not have you killing off my leads before I have a chance to interrogate them."

Releasing the gun, she turns and marches off over towards the cardinal and captain, the vicious looking bludgeon in her main hand lighting up with a distinct crackling as she made her way across the room.

[ArcturusV]

What did the Lamp Man say?

That thought was in "Scab's" mind as he heard hell starting to break loose, the ting of blades on wood, the smacking impacts of brawls. Things were going to hell. In the Guard he knew his orders would be to Hold the Line and shoot/stab anyone who came close. That made sense. It removed the go to solution of "Run like hell" he would have used back in the dark of home. But it was there.

But the Lamp Man had different priorities. He tried to remember what the Lamp Man had said about things like this. His eyes looked out from under the table towards the chaos going on. And Chaos was right. He focused, important things first. Most of the people here didn't matter. If they died, then they died before becoming full HERETICS. Two of the others at the table were scuffling and discussing if the Officer of this place should be killed. Seemed like a stalemate.

Other Fancy Hat seemed to be a point of resistance under assault. Under the table, away from prying eyes, "Scab" closed his eyes, felt out with his senses, and gave the man a subtle little bit of help...

He tried to reach out with his strange abilities, to take a bowl of soup on that table, and fling it so the soup hit the Wife of the Rogue Trader in the face. Painful? Maybe a little if it was too hot. Obscure her vision and thus make her easy for the Rogue Trader to subdue? Most likely. He held his Chainsword in reserve, ready to defend in case the battle migrated under the table.

Half Action to Telekinetic Control a Bowl of Soup. Half Action as Guarded Attack, -10 WS on my turn, +10 to Evasion Tests until my next turn.

Telekinetic Control: [roll0] vs 39 WP, +20 Test Modifier for Telekinetic Control, +10 Psy Focus, +0 Psy Rating of 1 being used. Final Mark of 69.

[Caimheul]

Romulus keeps a wary eye on everyone around him as he removes the cloth that was lightly draped on top of his autogun. "I fear she is right. Better to question the captain now and punish him later." <Oh yes, a sewage maintenance servitor would almost be a fitting punishment.> "Keeping him alive is our best bet to resolve this situation quickly."

Half Action Defensive action, Half action ready weapon.

[dancrilis]

Lho

Even with the chaos of the scenario she managed to take some small comfort in the familiarity of having a target, the rest of the world existed but more passively as she followed his movements and noted his attackers without really processing who they were are what they were doing - a sharp tug broke her concentration for a second, as did a face in her way but these distractions were replaced with the familiar clarity almost immediately as she rebalanced herself, there were people speaking quickly around her but she could examine any meaning to there words later.

She knew her shot was not what she would have wanted from herself, the situation was not controlled enough but when the moment felt right she took it.

[Warmatt]

As he gathered his focus, gathered the purifying flame inside of his mind, assembling the formula and the incantation, there was a nearby disturbance, one whose implications shocked him, and disrupted his concentration, tore his focus, as he was left with the truth. There was one here able to manipulate the warp to some degree, another psyker. Still, given the background and the swirling storm of emotions, he only knows it came from his left, leaving only a few suspects, ones that he will watch carefully and test.

[Tigger]

Seeing their captain’s torso hit by a bullet did not sadden his fellow officers, which might seem less surprising considering they were trying to kill him themselves. Moreover, being covered in bits and pieces of his internal organs actually rejoiced them quite a lot. In fact, the only person to be truly affected by the shot is the Cardinal, who just lost his fellow comrade in fighting off the crazed officers and priests. He’s now looking at Zanna with a mixture of hope and desperation, as he is not absolutely sure who she is gonna hit with her shock-maul. After all, the captain of the ship has just been cut down by sniper fire coming from her group.

Less apparent, but more extraordinary, is the bowl of soup that saved the life of a Rogue Trader and his family. The miraculous levitation of that dish and the ensuing pouring of hot soup into the eyes of the belligerent woman have given sufficient time for her husband to throw her to the ground and bind her hands with his napkin. His two children, without the support of his mother, are now no match for him and it seems that their father will be able to survive this ordeal without having to kill any of his relatives.

Not every guest can say the same. In fact, almost no guest can say the same, as the dining room is the scene of a carnage more reminiscent of the Cadian Gate than of a luxury ship. Pretty soon, there will be no one else to kill on the other side of the room and the tide will roll towards the acolytes of Inquisitor Lucan. For now, they can still hope to live a few more seconds, and keep on killing either suspected heretics or blood-thirsty innocents.


So no one is targeting you for now.
Zanna is in melee range with the Cardinal's group (3 officers and 2 priests, for reference sake).
Otherwise, you are all still standing around your table.

[Gospel Noctis]

Zanna sizes up her targets as she approaches, looking to take out the biggest threat with her first strike. But, before she can even raise the weapon in her hand the loud crack of gunfire splits the air, the captain dropping to the ground a moment later. A flash of rage flushes through her system as she connects the dots before quickly being smothered out, suppressed for the time being. Now wasn't the time for this.

"Subdue that woman!" She calls back to her fellow acolytes. "She's as Warp crazy as the rest of these fools, and we haven't the time to waste trying to coax her out of it!"

She pressed on. An officer turned towards the source of the shouting only to be greeted by the business end of the Arbitrators bludgeon, the heavy head of the maul crashing brutally into the mans right thigh. The force of the blow staggering the man as he howled in pain. The follow up swing came just as swiftly, seeming intent on crushing the officers arm; the distinct tittering of electricity crackling out all the while.

[Caimheul]

The tech-priest scans the dining room, trying to figure out the best way he can contribute. <I could fire over there to aid the Rogue Trader... Although it does seem he does not want to hurt his attackers for some reason. Nevermind that bowl of soup aided him... You mean that isn't normal behaviour for soup? Interesting... I could try shooting...> his analysis stops when the gunshot rings out and the Captain falls backwards. <Oh CoreDump. I suppose I should prepare to render medical aid once he is brought over here... What do you mean that's not how this works? ... But I ... But...>He lets out a soft burst of white noise, before visibly gathering himself up, and charging towards the maddened ship's officer still standing over the captain emitting a series of beeps and noises that must be an Adeptus Mechanicus warcry. <WHY AM I LISTENING TO YOU?!>
His inexperience in melee combat shows as stumbles on the hem of his robes, missing his target with the butt of his rifle. Fortunately, the chain scalpel on his mechadendrite still scores a blow on the officer's chest.

[dancrilis]

Lho

She was still agitated but having taken out the likely lead cultist she was willing to consider matters a bit - enough that she could properly make out words as they were said at least - being accused of being affected by whatever was targeting people was insulting at best and possible treacherous at worst, the temptation to finish her accuser was present, but she snuffed it out, it was not the time. She was already moving as she locked and stored her weapon at her side - it was not suitable for close quarters - and saw the other woman's target collapse after the savage blows she muttered "yea I'm the crazy one".

Approaching the table of the rogue trader - a people that normally were practical minded and knew about ships she straightened herself and positioned herself so that she would not have to see the window there if she could avoid looking things might be better. "Greetings sir, you seem reasoned - we need to get out of this ... " she trailed off gesturing at the window "... it is not my area - what do I need to do to make that happen". If she had a root to a target she could kill to force a them out if this she would focus on that - she hated how this place felt.


Half Action: Can move 4 meters towards the rogue traders table.
Half Action: Stow away her weapon.

Not sure how much we are sticking with the round being ~5 seconds - her talking would be about 10 seconds if she is speaking fast but still clear enough to be understood.

[ArcturusV]

"Scab" peeked out under the table, looking around at the unfolding situation. The Fancy people seemed to be getting taken care of. That suited him well enough. It was exactly what the Fancy Hat Man with Lamp would expect of a situation, right? The danger right now, as his senses told him and battlefield experience was the others massing up for a charge. Just like those Green Guys, or those guys with the Starburst Symbols. They both loved to do things like that.

Thankfully he did know what to do in order to fix their wagon, as he heard one member of the Regiment put it for some reason. He aimed up his Autopistol, watching and waiting for the tide to start forming before he'd unleash a burst in their direction.

"Scab" is actually using Overwatch, which I am normally loathe to do because it SUCKS... but it is really my only/best option for this. Though I did see they changed Overwatch this edition to be both better and worse... huh...

Overwatch Trigger: If the crowd starts to come towards their corner of the room.

Overwatch Agility Mark: If their Agility is less than 35, I go before their action. If it's greater than 35 they go before my action, which sucks.

Overwatch Attack (Full Auto Burst): [roll0] vs 27 BS, -10 Full Auto Rate of Fire, +0 Range Increment most likely, Final Mark of 17.

Everyone in the arc of fire needs to make a -20 Pinning Test when/if the Overwatch is Triggered.

12/18 rounds in clip of my Autopistol.

[Warmatt]

As he watched the contest, and kept an eye on the fighting, the madness not yet fighting in their general direction, he calmed himself, and reached for the powers inside of him and out, for that core of inner flame, the beacon that he nurtured and grew. Opening his eyes and pointing his staff, he spoke a word, and a bolt of flame erupted from the end, searing into the maddened officer. Still, as he looked over the melee, the storm would soon be on them, and they would be lucky to survive.

Really, what had the fool been thinking with this Gellar field, and exposing these fools to the warp?

[Tigger]

In the midst of chaos, strange encounters can happen and unlikely friendships are formed. Mustafa Al-Razid, from the Al-Razid dynasty of Rogue Traders, cannot but feel happy when he sees a face not deformed by the need to kill. Hence his relieved tone when he answers Lho’s question: “You mean being in the warp with the Gellar Field malfunctioning? We need to get to the bridge and take the ship out of warpspace. I don’t understand why the crew up there has not done so yet.” He cannot say more, as, finally, the red tide is coming their way.

The 35th congress of the dental chirurgeons of Lankira Hive, who were sitting in the southwest corner, has finally been reduced to a mob decided on inflicting pain without the excuse of straightening the dentition of its patients. The few of them who kept their heads straight are now in pieces, and six specialists of oral surgery are now charging your way. Their leader, upon entering Scab’s line of fire, takes two bullets to the chest and falls prone on the group, but Imperial Guard quality shooting does not seem to convince the tooth specialists that their attack is doomed, and they are soon closing in on Lho and Mustafa.

On the other side of the room, one officer is dead on the ground and the remains of his shattered arm are encrusted in Zanna’s carapace armor. The captain is barely able to stay upright after having been shot, but keeps on fighting his officers, on the verge of death. The arm of one of them is on fire, but he does not seem to be overly concern by this fact, proof if one was needed that his mind has been warped beyond human nature.

[Gospel Noctis]

Zanna frowned deeply as her she was pelted by flying shards of bone and gore from what used to be the crazed officers arm. Glancing down at the blood drench mace in her main hand she couldn't help but let out a deep sigh of disappointed, both at the lack of resilience of an officer of the Imperium as well as her own lack of control.

"I guess I'll need to hold back," She mutters to herself as she takes aim at one of the men dressed in priests robes. "Lest I waste more of the Imperiums resources." Once more she brings her shock maul to bear, slamming the crackling instrument into the mans chest with noticeably less force than she had displayed previously.

[dancrilis]

Lho

Snapping her pistol to out she saw firing even before she had raised it past the ground, as she swept the legs of her opponents, raising her voice to be heard over her shots "they are affiliated with the one that weakened the yoke - they are likely mad or traitors".

Turning her head to look back at the group - her voice almost catching in her breath as her captain was back on his feet, with two who should be loyal to the Inquisition aiding its enemies, looking at the table "we need to get to the bridge and get out of this, please kill the traitor responsible" - nodding towards the captain - "and lets fight our way through before his minions cause more damage", her words were directed to both of them who had remained at that table - but her eyes met Private Scab's as she said that, with luck the military man who had reacted so quickly to the situation, would appreciate the situation and respond to reason or orders - however he wanted to view the request - about killing enemies.
Otherwise it would likely fall to her - she scanned the ceiling for dropping the chandeliers might work.

[ArcturusV]

"Scab" nodded at the 'orders' of Lho. You could hear his Chainsword rev up as he pressed the trigger stud on it, a loud roar across the battle, promising death to those who came close to him. The Private looked like he was trying to stand beneath the table, his shoulder against the tabletop's underside, using his legs to leverage the table over on its side, spilling soup and bread, breaking glasses and scattering eye gougers in a crash. As he stood behind his cover he raised his chainblade up in his fist, revving it again to signal his defiance towards the Warp and the Horde incoming.

Even while his power unconsciously reached out, waiting for the Dentites to come past a table, where his power grabbed onto the edge of a tablecloth, pulling it out and across the path of the horde, looking to trip and tangle them with the linen. Such terrible luck, them in their slavering haste to get tangled up in something like that, not really watching where they were going, wasn't it?

Half Action to prop up my Cover. Table is probably AP 4 as relatively thick material. And a Half Action to Telekine Control a Tablecloth...

Telekinetic Control: [roll0] vs 39 WP, +20 Target Mark for Telekinetic Control, +10 for a Psy Focus, +0 for using it at Psy Rating 1. Final Mark of 69.

[Warmatt]

He raised his staff, and his choker glowed with light and fury, the words carved into it glinting with an internal flame, even as he spoke. "Burn, and be cleansed in flame!" His words are as much defiance to the warp, even as flame roars out, striking a dentite, scorching and charring the man, not a trace of pity on the Savant-Militant's face, only a sort of grim determination, and an acceptance, that battle was were he belonged.

As Lho shouted her 'orders' though, he merely nodded, he prepared to bring fire and fury down on the maddened men. This must be stopped, and those instigated this brought to the pyre, as their treachery deserved.

[Caimheul]

"M'lord Captain, I have noticed your biological components have become damaged. Please allow me to affect repairs," Tech-Priest Romulus intones as his medical mechadendrites reach towards the captain's torso, one of his officer's blood still dripping from the chainscapel. Before the captain can even respond, the sacred fluid used to prepare organic materials for repairs sprays from a nozzle, and a set of wicked looking tools bind his flesh together with staples, covering the wound. A final, different chemical is sprayed, sanctifying the repairs and numbing the area. "Unfortunately, that is the best I can manage in these present circumstances."

[Tigger]

And just as suddenly as the madness had started, it stops. But in its place comes no relief, as men and women regain consciousness only to find themselves covered in the blood of their colleagues, friends and families. Some cry in despair, but more fall in catatonia, their minds unable to deal with deeds they have just committed.

Most of the ones who did not go insane are dead, forks planted in their eyes or decapitated with silver platers. A small number, around a dozen, including the captain and Cardinal Cazale, are wounded and in need of medical attention.

Looking outside the window, you can see the explanation for your change of circumstances. The ship has exited the warp and, only thanks to the mercy of the Emperor (and the fact that most of real space is empty), has not materialized into a planet or a star.

Mustafa Al-Razid turns itself towards Lho in anger and says: “I think there has been enough killing for now. I need to attend to my wife and children, but if I hear any bullet shot, you better make sure that it’s shot at me, because I’ll hold you responsible. I agree that someone is going to have to answer for all this, and be sure that I am not leaning towards clemency, but this not the time and place for a summary judgement.”

Well, we're back in narrative time.
You can of course talk with the main NPCs that are all around: the captain, the cardinal and the rogue trader.
You can also try to treat the wounded.
If we had a hierophant, I would have suggested something like administering last rites and comforting the afflicted.
Or you can just surprise me and do something insane :smallsmile:.

[ArcturusV]

It seemed homey. Oh not the blood soaked carnage, though that kind of was. The infinite blackness of the void outside the ship. It wasn't always like that down there, but it often was. It was one of the few times since he had been dragged off that he had seen actual, true darkness, not merely a severe lack of light.

He lowered his chainblade, staring out at the window, his face slack as he just marveled at a view that most would likely consider 'boring' but he found incredibly comforting, and not just because it meant they were free of the warp. He wondered if he could crawl out there, be wrapped up in the darkness once more and feel home again. Or if that dark space was somehow connected to the dark spaces of his own home. If he stepped out there, might he step one further to the familiar rubble of his youth?

He walked out from behind the table, stepping past the bodies without a care, past the tablecloth tripped up and chandelier smashed Dentites, around tables where people were broken and sobbing over those they had lost, including themselves. Up until he got to that window, pressing his face against it and peering into the infinite void.

His pistol was holstered, and his hand came up to press against the window, so close, and yet he couldn't push through into the darkness.

His shoulders slumped in defeat and his brow wrinkled as he considered just what this teasing look meant.

[Caimheul]

"If you'll excuse my m'Lord Captain, but I should begin the triage effort," Romulus says with a bow before turning and attempting to start the triage effort, by a combination being the first person to attend to the wounded, and being a loud voice. "EVERYONE WITH TRAINING IN THE REPAIR OF BIOLOGICAL SYSTEMS, INITIATE TRIAGE PROCEDURES." <Such a waste of biological components. Hopefully this vessel is equipped with a crew reclamation bay, or at the very least the reclaim the resources in the corpses.>

[Gospel Noctis]

As the dust settles and the what remains of the ships former inhabitants awaken from their bout of temporary insanity only to rediscover the cruelty of reality the armored enforcer couldn't quite help but feel a small twinge of disappointment. While order was well on its way to being restored the excitement of the moment had died awfully quickly, there had been little time to really enjoy herself. Well. while circumstance may have temporarily robbed her of the most exciting part of her job, she still had her second favorite part to look forward to. Interrogation!

'At least assuming Lho hasn't robbed me of that pleasure.' She grumbled to herself, as dark thoughts flittered through her mind. 'With his current wounds there's little chance the captain would survive any sort of thorough interrogation, and what use was there in employing such methods if the subject died before spilling his guts?'

"Are you unharmed, Cardinal?"

[dancrilis]

Lho

As the left the warp she relaxed somewhat, her mind clearer now, her hand on instinct was already moving to offer the Trader her auto-pistol as his own gun seems to be inoperable while simultaneously retrieving her rifle with her other arm. This motion stopped at his words, but resumed in a different manner - the pistol was stowed away and the rifle was drawn for inspection.

The possibilities were twofold, he was either a traitor and needed to die or he was to blind to see the situation that he was in - possible overly concerned for the lives of the woman and children.

At this distance she could likely kill him without issue, a single bullet to the back of the head would be suitable - but the captain would likely be able to respond before she could finish her task now that he was standing again, and a bolt pistol was no weapon to be ignored, and the others in Lucan's employ seemed not to be unsure about the processing of enemies - if she could rely on them she could likely secure the dining area and thereby the ship but she could not.
An ambush would likely bring the ship down on her - and while sacrificing ones life to kill the enemies of mankind was expected of her it was not her first preference.

So she would have to adopt a different tactic, "Sir, I left cover to come to your assistance and move towards resolving the issue - on the other hand the captain deliberately and knowingly altered the protection that we all would benefit from resulting in the current situation. And now we are wherever in space possibly awaiting ambush by others, it is your duty as servant of the imperium to assist me in arresting him and removing him from command. Do you truly instead mean to oppose me should he resist this fair assessment?", her voice was pitched to carry - if any non-traitors existed onboard either amongst the guests or staff than at least arrest might be possible and any further plans that he had might be halted.

If not than at the least perhaps those in Lucan's employ might come to there senses about the situation - but the woman and doctor had actively opposed her efforts and Scab had been somewhat beneficial but he did not seem the type to act against authority - and the other man had merely stood beside the table, in her youth she would have found that cowardly but had learned that sometimes even those who were not skilled at death had uses.

[Warmatt]

Looking over the crowd and their crying, he feels a blister of anger and doubt, even as he walks over to the Rouge Trader, the expression on his face grim and drawn as he looks at him, and his more death capable co-worker. Still, he gives a nod, short and tense, to both of them, as he looks on. "As my colleague stated, there had been an unsanctioned alteration of the Gellar Fields, and the Capitan seemed to be more then aware of it, even sounding as if it was a feature in fact." Nodding to him, he does not smile.

"Still, as you saw, those with little dealing with the warp lost themselves completely, overcome, while those with some training," he waved his staff towards Lho, "had their judgement temporarily overwhelmed, perhaps compounded by zealousness in that she saw who she thought was responsible, and decided to act, without considering the full grasp of the situation."Still, as he looks towards were the Captain and his remaining retinue are, he nods towards Lho. "At the same time, he was aware of the weakened fields by his own admission, though it is unsure at this point if they were his own idea, or that of another party, passing them off as sanctioned technology, using him as a dupe and cats-paw." He seems to be considering the large table for a moment, before turning his attention back to the pair of them.

"So, as she asks, would you be adverse to brining the truth to the Emperors divine light?"

[Tigger]

As the voice of Romulus booms through the room, the four dentists that are still able to function look at each other and, shrugging their shoulders, come to him and offer their assistance, blessing this chance to get busy rather than having to wonder how they could murder their colleagues.

The Cardinal seems to snap out of his stupor, looks at Zanna with relief on his face and says: “Compared to those poor souls, I am unharmed. My aides did hit me a few times, and I might have a few bruises in the morning, but I am all right.” The few bruises are, in fact, much worse than what the man of the cloth is implying, as he winces while he puts on a brave face. “I must thank you and bless the Emperor for the fact that one of his agents was here to save my life. I knew I should not have come.” He looks around and, with a strange look on his face, asks his aides to come with him to bring comfort to the dying.

As for the Rogue Trader, he ponders for quite some time what Lho and Pyrebrand have just said to him. “I agree with you that a warp intrusion occurring mere seconds after the captain boasting of his modified Gellar Field warrants an explanation. I will come with you and listen to what he has to say, at the very least in order to find out if we can go back safely into the warp and travel to the closest civilized world. Beyond that, considering the way this ship is operated, the captain might not be able to explain a lot to us about all this.”

[dancrilis]

Lho

She gave the her fellow servant of the Inquisition a hard look as he implied weakness on her part - but perhaps he was right, she should have held the rifle in her hand while utilising the pistol to deal with the enemies - instead she has wasted valuable time holstering it and would have had to unholster it again. It spoke to the fear she had felt - an emotion she was not used to any longer. Still she felt that while her tactical choices were poor the overall decision to remove the captain from the burden of life was the best course of action.

For now she would hold her tongue, but kept the rifle in hand - if she needed to end this she would, giving a curt nod to Pyrebrand she moved to follow to the captain's table, glancing around the room and noting Private Scab who she offered a tight smile to along with a nod, he had done his job in her mind shoot the right people, not gotten himself killed and most importantly not gotten in her way.

[Gospel Noctis]

"You should have your wounds attended to soon, Cardinal. Your services are of great value to the Imperium, it would be a tragedy to lose them to untreated injuries." She replied, voice as stern and steady as ever. With a nod, she began making her way over to the downed captain, as Romulus' announcement rippled through the dining room.

"Tech-Priest Verduyn, may I inquire as to the severity of the captains injuries?" She asked, watching the mans mechadendrites work their craft.

[ArcturusV]

"Scab" had slowly turned from the window out to the Void, finding it an impossible barrier that he couldn't push through. Nor did he think his bullets or chainblade would break through, and he was loathe to waste the rounds, or blunt the blade, trying on an impossible task. His eyes caught the assassin nodding in his direction, an odd gesture. Reminded him of... something... something secretive. The looks people gave one another when they were hiding something. Did she think he had contraband wit him? Did he? Sometimes people were weird about what was 'contraband'. He remembered one guy getting 10 lashes for picking up a pistol once during a fight. He saw people give nods like that all the time, when they were sharing something they didn't want the Officers to see. The liquids that made people blind and loud, or some other little tidbit like that.

He made a show of patting himself down and shaking his head at 'Lho' trying to gesture that no, he didn't have any of that liquid on him or anything like that. With a shrug he walked over towards the bodies.

Everyone was talking, everyone was thinking, some of them looking horrified, some of them trying to get busy doing anything else, like the dentites swarming over to the officers. "Scab"... well... he had his own thing to keep busy. Chainsword in hand, he revved it as he passed people who were in shock and trauma. Battlefield Protocol and all after all. Those who were responsive to the sudden loud, grindy, death noise near them, he gestured with the blade to line up along the wall opposite the window to the Void. Those who were dead (or at least appeared to be) from the brawl, he made sure to put a finale in their finale, taking the chainblade to their neck and spine, caring not for the splatter of blood and goop, chunks of bone flying, etc. In the Guard he had SEEN things... including things where dead things kept moving. Yeah he wasn't going to have another fight break out again. It was just an automatic, drilled response. Make sure the dead are dead. Every Guardsman in his unit knew it and would do it in their sleep. And its not like the dead would care that their bodies were torn up. They were probably about to be turned into rations or those weird half metal men the red robes kept around anyway.

And by the Lamp Man, he wasn't going to get shot in the back of the head for failing to carry out battlefield protocol. That was an Instant Death offense. By being shot. As a lot of them are.

The bigger question was, what was he doing with the people he was lining up against the wall with the not exactly subtle threat of Chainsword Violence? He hadn't got to the Captain, Department Heads, and Cardinal yet. Others were there and he presumed they were doing the duty with them. And honestly he didn't want to deal with the higher ranking people who might pull a Bolt Pistol out of BLAM!space and put one in him.

Once he had them rounded up, he frowned, and tried to think of the words that he had been taught, a long, long time ago (Or so it had seemed). Waaaay back, when he first was drilled in the realities of War and the Cosmos as the Imperium thought to teach its warriors and grunts.

"... heresy..." he said loudly enough that his voice would carry a good distance. His voice was slow and sounding it out, as if it wasn't a word he was really all that familiar with or used to speaking. "Heresy, here," he said, taking his Chainsword, and pointing towards the hearts of the people in line. They were all people who had lost it, tore up other people, had blood on their hands, etc. He had elected to do a simple Field Inquisition Test, one meant to check for the purity of a man's soul against the taint of contact with Heresy, one he had seen performed so many times before with his unit when they delved into places where Chaos or Xenos reigned heavily and the Officers all thought they might be coming back heretics. "Say Prayers," he commanded sternly. The ancient HERESY test, if you stumbled over the words, or fumbled making the Aquila during your prayers, it was a sign that the forces of Chaos and HERESY had taken root in the soul, the blasphemies there unable to let you speak holy words without difficulty.

It was his duty as a member of the Inquisition, and the Imperial Guard, to do this. Barring higher ranking figures to step in of course. He took his duty very seriously. And not the least bit because he was convinced that Fancy Hat Lucan could appear out of thin air and BLAM! him for any failures on his part. That man was scary.

[Caimheul]

Romulus surveys the four diners who have approached him following his call for medical personnel. "As there are only five of us," <Yes, I know you're here as well, but you don't have medicae now do you? So hush.> "We need to focus our efforts on those individuals who will not survive with aid we can provide. Those who will live without our assistance shall be left for the ship's medicae facilities, and those beyond our help leave for processing into servitors or protein reclamation as appropriate. Try to find relatively clean knives, napkins, and tablecloths for the creation of bandages."

Let me know if any rolls are necessary or if handwaving shall commence.

[Warmatt]

Matthias would nod, eyes searching, as he looks with amusement on Scab's doing. Really, it was interesting to see battlefield discipline here again, but he wonders just what it was that ingrained it so deeply... ah, he was afraid the BLAM to the head. He did not read the mans thoughts, but as one who served, it was a reasonable guess. Yet, as he approached the Captain with Lho and the Rouge Trader captain, he would let the Trader do the talking.

After all, Rouge Traders are better speakers then he was, and they would gain the information regardless.

[Tigger]

As Scab gathers the corpses and prepares himself to make sure that they are even more dead than they already are, he hears a voice besides himself, one that has not made itself heard up to this point. Turning itself towards it, he recognizes the Imperial Guard general he saw when he entered the dining room

“Well son, I might just ask you the name of your drill instructor, cause he made a damn good work with you. That kill-zone you set up when those teeth doctors charged you was pretty impressive, but it takes a real guardsman to remember his training in all circumstances, especially when that training is as gruesome as cutting the heads of the dead people. But, you know, it also takes a real officer to know when one should take his liberties with regulations, and with the amount of shell-shocked civilians in the room, maybe we should abstain from adding to the display of horrors. I’ll keep an eye on them with you, if that’s all right.”

Not far from there, Tech Priest Romulus Verduyn is realizing that people willing to help are not always helpful, as the dentists seem determined to keep the dying going by any means at their disposal. Almost every attempt he makes at healing someone is botched by one of the attending morons, and only the Cardinal receives proper care as a consequence.

As for the captain, he has sat down on the floor and seems to be contemplating the state of his prized dining room. Even though his mental state is probably not going to get closer to the normal in the next few minutes, for a man who has just taken a bullet to the chest, he does not look in a so bad shape, a fact that comforts Romulus as to his medical abilities. Al-Razid, as he comes up to the man, addresses him with a soft voice:

“Captain Taiko, are you feeling all right?”

The Captain marks a short pause and answers, in a shaken voice:

“I suppose I do, Lord Trader, I suppose I do. It all happened so fast, the madness, the shooting… I can’t believe I’m still alive.
- Do you know what happened? It looked like something was able to cross from the warp.
- I know what you’re thinking. Blasted modified Gellar Field. I told corporate that it sounded bad, that the crew wouldn’t like it. But they thought guests would like something exotic and dangerous. Morons.
- You say corporate, you mean the Trustees of the Legacy?
- The Trustees? Nah, of course not, they don’t even know my name. Just you know, the Cruise Ship Division.
- Did they warn you about anything like that?
- What? Backtrack a little. The Gellar Field has never malfunctioned before. CSD might be a bunch of jackasses, but they know what they’re doing. The ship has always worked fine. I have no idea what caused this.
- Should we try to contact the bridge, then?
- Sure, let me catch my breath and we’ll be on our way.”

The captain looks around him, sees Lho and Matthias besides the Rogue Trader and adds: “I am sorry for what has happened here. I know my apologies mean nothing in the face of such a disaster, but please accept them nevertheless.”

[Caimheul]

"No, you blithering idiots, for the last time Exception time, stop. Checking. Their. Teeth." <Next time I need assistance, I'd be better off letting you WHELD wounds shut. I, for one, am glad I do not possess teeth.> "A cavity is NOT life threatening, I don't CARE what your training says. Just keep pressure on those wounds AND KEEP YOUR HANDS OUT OF THEIR NULLPOINTER MOUTHS." Romulus says exceedingly frustrated with the entire proceeding. He massages his forehead annoyedly with one hand, leaving a smear of blood behind. Deciding to take a moment to address the slightly less annoying issue of potential tech-heresy, he quickly approaches the captain. "Sir, I do hate to detain you, but I must inquire. What magos or forge world undertook the modification of the Gellar field, and I presume this vessel's Adeptus Mechanicus contingent is aware of the modification?" The tech priest inquires spitting the word "modification" as if it were a curse.

[dancrilis]

Lho

She looked around at the sound of the chainsaw starting, Scab was finishing the job that had begun - good she thought, while the doctor seemed to be helping others along to their final judgement also - in a somewhat less effective manner than the private, well at least he wasn't try to cancel out her work any longer.

Returning to the Rogue Trader and the Captain's discussion - "Just to be clear - I don't know about Geller Fields and space travel and I don't really care to know - but I have a passing familiarity with windows. The thinner and clearer a window the better a picture you might get, but also the easier for sound and heat and bullets to pass through it. Also the the quicker it will wear away due to strain, such as being hammered by a storm or frequent bad weather. From a lay perspective it seems this Geller Field might act as a window to hold out danger of travel" her eyes fixing the captain "and you allowed the thing to be weakened for a view".

It was a curious feeling - she was not really an investigator more of a hired bullet, that is what her life and training had prepared her for, sure she could enjoy herself and make friends when needed and lie as she pleased but her true talent was putting holes in people - ideally from a significant distance.

She offered a smile "Everything about this is suspicious - as I am sure you agree - as such would you be willing to display sound judgement and aid in an investigation to confirm that there is nothing untoward going on with the ship prior to continuing the journey. Your support would likely ease the staff and show commitment to your guests about their security", she reached out her hand, or empty hand - the rifle was still in the other as it would remain until she was content again.

Perhaps the Emperor had spared him from her bullet and this was his chance at repentance - to demonstrate leadership and put his full support behind a review of the ship personal and guests.

How to conduct an investigation was a different manner - but if needed she could likely find some grounds to kill them all and let the God Emperor sort it out, he was certainly better suited to the task than herself. Or perhaps someone else in Lucan's employ might be familiar with it - throwing a sidelong glance to the Arbitrator, if the woman could be trusted not to go soft as she had on the topic of shooting high ranking people, the man beside her with the Trader might also suit he had displayed wisdom in his words earlier she begrudgingly had to acknowledge.


Not sure about rolling for this but here goes.
Charm (default 42): [roll0]

[ArcturusV]

Officer on deck! Danger close!

"Scab" snapped too as the General approached, straightening up like those Drill Abbots demanded, crisp, clean, clear. Spine arrow straight, looking at an impersonal spot 2 inches above the General's head, so that the general could look him in the eye but he wasn't meeting the gaze of his superiors. "Sir, yes sir," he replied to the General, again a very automatic response. He took up his Autopistol, clearing the safety and holding it with the barrel pointed towards himself, grip pointed towards the General, offering him a sidearm, if he didn't already have one. Being more 'civlized' than the grunt he might have actually realized that bringing pistols and blades to a formal dinner wasn't actually something most people did.

He glanced down a bit at the bodies. The bodies didn't bother him. He didn't understand why doing what was necessary would bother anyone. The lack of proper routine was FAR more scary. It meant something was changing. Change was always bad. Changes was vat rats stealing your stuff. Change was lighted levels and massive crowds of smelly people. Change was being beaten and hauled off to fight for some Lamp Man in hellish landscapes he never would have been able to imagine... he almost shuddered remembering those strange places where there were no walls or ceiling... 'sky' they called it. Terrifying. Utterly terrifying.

[Gospel Noctis]

"So you have used this modified Gellar Field before and it hasn't malfunctioned before?" Zannas inquires, drilling the man for answers; her intense gaze pinning the captain where he lay as well as any physical restraints might aspire to. "How long have you had it, and on how many occasions has it been put to use since installation? And what of your crew? Have any of them acted strangely at all in recent memory?"

[Warmatt]

Looking at Lho, Matthias bowed to the Rouge Trader and the Captain. "My lords, as a Savant-Militant, formerly attached to the Azerothian 42nd, I would volunteer my services if you would. As I am not here in an official capacity, to the best of my understanding, I merely ask your indulgence, and offer my services, in the event they are required, and as you see fit, and apologize if it appears that I am interfering with those above my station." Bowing again, having perused the captains surface thoughts, he then directs his mental abilities to his co-worker.



Captains Honest. Fears something Bridge. Offer services politely, discretion vital.

[Tigger]

The General smiles at Scab with the genuine pleasure of someone finding comfort in the display of familiar behavior.

“At ease, son. And keep your Autopistol, I already have a sidearm.,” he says, pointing at his bolt pistol. “I never go anywhere without it. Maybe we should go see what the civilians are talking about. Otherwise they might go ahead and make this mess even messier.”

As for the Captain, you can see him remembering the “dealing with unhappy guests” seminar as he starts speaking: “Sure, when it will be time for an investigation, of course I will cooperate. I have some amount of information in my files about the Gellar Field and its installation, and I’m sure CSD will provide to the investigators anything else that would be required. But for now, we have more pressing issues. Let me try to contact the bridge.” The captain stands up and raises his vox-caster to his mouth. After transmitting “Captain to the bridge. Status report.” a few times without getting any answers, you can see him significantly more worried.

“Well, it looks like I am going to have to go there if we want to get anywhere. Savant-Militant, your help is most welcome and I would be glad if you came along. God knows what else might be lurking around. Lord Trader, would you mind coming with us? I feel your expertise in warp travel might be needed.”

He then looks at the room once again, taking in the devastation and not believing it. “Maybe some of you should come with us too, the wounded should not stay unattended.”

[Caimheul]

"M'lord captain, might I recommend that those left behind lock or otherwise barricade the doors? Additionally, I offer my services to assist you in returning to the bridge. It is possible some of the vessel's machine spirits are ailing and will need ministration." <Yes that includes you.> Romulus states with a slight inclination of his head.

[ArcturusV]

Why had there been no bachacrak! of Bolts during the fight?

That thought came to 'Scab' as he realized that the man had a bolt pistol on him, and he holstered his own autopistol. It was a very distinct sound of the rocket propelled ammunition and the detonations it caused, particularly in unarmored targets like the dinner guests. He never knew an officer to hesitate in bringing one to bear, particularly if someone was threatening their lives after all. Had this Officer succumbed to the Madness of the Warp himself? He nodded in answer to the General, and during the nod subtly glanced at the man's appearance to see if he had the marks of going hand to hand like a raving lunatic. Blood on his hands (quite literally) and the like. He was still wary of the Corruption the contact with the Warp might have created. Not that he knew exactly what that might be like. It was just one of those things that was drilled into you as part of the Guard. The Warp Was Bad. Shoot Anyone Showing Signs of Taint. Hate the Mutant. Hate the Heretic. Madness can only be countered by Execution.

Though going against the will of an officer was likely to get him boltered in the face as well. He wasn't sure that he could take the man. If it came to that, and he revealed himself as an unstable mutant. Nor did he like hanging out with this officer, aware that at some point he might discover 'Scab's' secret and unusual traits, which would be the end of him.

There wasn't a good way out. He fought hard to control his natural instincts to run, hide, or lash out, biting down on his inner cheeks to create a bit of pain to help focus himself on something else other than the rising panic that threatened to overcoming him as he realized just how dire things were now that they were OUT of the warp...

He was trapped, with little choice but to follow this officer and find some reason to duck away as soon as he could. Never draw attention, he reminded himself. Worst thing you could do in the Guard was get the eye of the Brass focused on you.

[dancrilis]

Lho

Well the captain was beyond her reasoned ability to deal with for now - maybe that was for the best, pride demanded that target die, but than no one was paying her to kill him so was he really a target?
The question bothered her - she had drawn and shot him, left cover and poorly handled her weapon management - had she snapped temporarily? she was getting no answer in her own head - but if the trader and that savant had it in hand did she really need answers - get to Nineveh contact the Lucan and let him deal with it seemed like perhaps the best approach.

Well ignoring everything else she might as well fit in as a bored busy body noble, underhiver scum likely were not expected onboard - and certainly not armed as she was, but some nobles did so - she killed a few in her time. "Captain" her voice exasperated without much effort on her part to make it so "when can we expect this to be cleared up and we can move to dinner - preferable prior to re-entering that blasted place. Or at the least where are the kitchens?", getting a feel for the ship might be worth while - and checking the damage compared to her walk earlier might be good.

[Warmatt]

He would nod at the captain, but remain silent, at that moment merely watching and listening, not needing to speak. Still, as they prepared to move out, he would follow them, eyes sharp, and senses looking into the warp, hoping that nothing too dangerous is ahead.

[Gospel Noctis]

"Then let us go check on the bridge. Emperor willing, nothing important was damaged while we were in warp space. Lead the way, captain." She nodded, coolly wiping a few bloody stray bloody chunks from her armor as she prepared to depart from the dining room.

[Tigger]

After considering things, the general decides to apply his officer training and ask someone else to be brave: ”Son, I think you should go with them, if you don’t mind my saying so. I’ll stay here and protect what’s left of our fellow travelers, you’ll go with this gang and try to keep them in line. Works for you?”

The captain, on the other hand, seems now almost embarrassed by the situation he’s in: “Well, let’s get going, I guess. When you’re asked by my employer how you became part of the captain’s escort on his way to the bridge, I would be glad if you could just emphasize the fact that I did not ask you for help and you were just eager to see more of the ship. I might just keep my job.” Looking at Lho, he adds: “Miss, I am afraid I am currently unable to give you an estimated time of departure. You’re welcome to come with us if staying here with the other guests does not suit you. As for clearing up this mess, be assured that I’ll give all orders necessary when communications are working again.”

In fact, as the captain starts moving towards the door, you can see that some of the surviving waiters have started to clean up the place, their mops already red with blood.

[ArcturusV]

"Scab" silently snapped a salute at the general, then dropped to one knee and flashed his the Aquila. He softly and proudly spoke words that were often echoed in the various places he had been deployed to, a spirit of the Guardsmen and everything they stood for, "We die standing." The words were simple, the meaning was as well. That every guardsmen knew their duty, down from the very spirit of Saint Pius, Guardsman, well, Imperial Army Grunt at the time, who stood before a vengeful, petulant demigod child, and died defiant to the last to defend the Emperor, a moment that turned the tide at the Siege of Terra and the duel between Father and Son.That even as mere men they stood against the fury of Hell itself and held the line. Just as "Scab" did during the incursion. Just as the General would be expected to if the once tainted passengers went crazy again.

He didn't believe in the Guard, not to the fact that it was a faith. Nor did he primarily think of himself as a Guardsman. He thought of himself as... well... himself. But in battle you see things, and you come to understand and appreciate those ideals, even if you can't live up to them.

He rose from his knee, and with a loping jog, eager to be away from the usual BLAM! happy officers he headed off towards his former table companions, a man with fancy clothes, and.. he realized sadly another Officer who was probably authorized on this ship to BLAM! him as well...

... that took the spring out of his step as he approached. His shoulders slumped, and he fell into a hunched, loping posture, like someone trying to sneak in. He barely heard the snippet of conversation from the captain, and pondered just who BLAM!'d captains. He cocked his head to the right, puzzled clearly as he pondered it. Officers were the Lamp Man's proxies, and so they liked to remind him. Who shoots the proxies of the Lamp Man? Well other than Xenos. And cultists. And stupid people. They all did. But I mean who shoots them just because of a perceived mistake?

It was at the very least something he could understand and latch into in the Captain's expression. He shambled forward, and gave a rough salute, not sure just how formal he was supposed to be with some officer outside of the Guard. "... General Order," he said, indicating the rank rather than a category, "Watch group. 'In line'." Maybe the captain would understand the pains of someone stuck with orders from on high, unable to really do anything about it while keeping their head. Maybe he'd latch onto the out of the excuse of a General commandeering authority in a situation? He didn't know.

[Caimheul]

<A tour of the vessel with the captain, how exciting! Pish tosh, you have a bad feeling about everything, I'm sure this was just a localized event, and the rest of the vessel is fine.> "Of course m'lord captain. I find myself fascinated by the differences between this vessel and the Adeptus Mechanicus vessel to which I was previously allocated."

[dancrilis]

Lho

Actually staying with the other guests did suit her - she might learn something, but alas if captains normally were on bridges knowing the way to it might be beneficial, and from there she could map the location back to her room.

Still she was not happy about it and merely gave the captain a tight nod at his suggestion, and took up the rear of the party as it moved. She had never been much for grenades but was starting to see the appeal as she looked at the group ahead of her - but that was merely a darkness of her mood.

Occasionally she would look down corridors and check behind her for pursuit - but mostly it was a balefully glaring at those in front of her, she had been enjoying her dinner and now it was ruined and the single individual responsible had not only lived but had been healed and was not being shot again. She she should get some grenades.

[Tigger]

Not long after your exit from the dining room, the captain pushes aside a tapestry depicting the siege of Terra, revealing a side room through which you leave the corridor leading back to your rooms. As soon as you have left this part of the ship, you find yourselves in hallways that have none of the luxurious decorations that were up until then prevalent. The walls are now bare, the machinery apparent, and the only distractions are placards reminding shipmates of applicable rules and regulations of the Imperial Navy. The captain attempts some remarks in order to keep you distracted, but his voice is more and more trembling as you are getting closer to the bridge, and even the Rogue Trader’s questions are not able to distract him from his worries. By the time you reach an intersection with a sign announcing that the elevator to the bridge will be on your left, he has fallen back into silence.

Time for an Awareness check!

[ArcturusV]

"Scab" might have been a scout. Or at least one would presume with his earlier Imperial Guard introductions. He moved through the corridors like one. Low to the ground, quiet, with weapons drawn. He went from position of cover to position of cover the best he could manage, using the machinery to help hide his position, much in the same way he had approached the dining room originally.

He wasn't making an effort to hide from the captain however, or the other Inquisitorial Acolytes. Every once in a while you could see him sniffing at the air, as if he detected something unusual beyond the scent of sacred machine oil, metal, and electricity. He didn't lead the way, mostly because he didn't know which way they were going. Nor could he read the signs that pointed to the Bridge. But he did his best to make sure that the way was clear, waving on the men and women of the group when he thought it was secure.

... it was his orders.

... and he thought more warp crazed men would be around. One didn't survive life in the Guard, or the Inquisition, by presuming things were going fine. Where the warp touched men, madness and corruption lingered. They probably should have executed all the maddened people back in the dining room. They probably were still crazed. He was sure that the General was going to die. If he wasn't crazed as well. He probably was. He didn't remember the Bolt Pistol firing. The sound of a bolt pistol was so distinct he'd recognize it over the din of battle. That's how the commissars liked it. Making sure you knew they were dispatching Justice constantly. The General probably was insane then too, ripping at people with his bare hands, or the eye gouger, or drowning them in the poison goop that the others had consumed for some reason.

... they just left a nest of enemies alive back there. And the woman Lho didn't seem to realize it, keeping her eyes forward.

What would the Fancy Hat Man say about this all? Was he going to step out from one of these walls and berate them all for their failures?

The thought sent a shiver down his spine.

Well first off, the Awareness Test you called for. Secondly the Stealth Test that is fitting of the character.

Awareness: [roll0] vs 36 Perception, Trained for +0, Baseline Mark of 36.
Stealth: [roll1] vs 35 Agility, Trained for +0, Baseline Mark of 35.

Course neither consider for Conditional Modifiers or Test Difficulty.

[dancrilis]

Lho

She refrained from muttering to herself with some difficulty, falling back on calming herself - counting the places she might hide, where she would setup a shot of she needed to, the silence was appreciated at the least as were the more standard surroundings - she could imagine this being a tunnel in a hive somewhere for who knows what purpose.

The locked eyes with Scab as he noted her, there was no smile this time more looking at his behaviour and stance - what was his role for Lucan, a bodyguard? someone that blended in as a madman to be overlooked? someone to report corruption within the guard? she didn't know.

His action were those of a herder or warden to her mind - directing human traffic as needed, but could he be tainted and hence his somewhat odd behaviour - herding them to a trap. True he could have turned on them in the hall and did conduct himself properly, in fact he was the one she might trust the most out of the group - but he was still not anywhere above suspicion.

Focusing on the others she began to wonder what they did for Lucan - the Tech-priest said he made servitors and while that was useful in general was it really that useful for general use coupled with his actions healing those that were shot it was worrying - the woman had interfered with her shot - normally unforgivable - and had drawn the crazed off the likely lead cultist, and the other man seemed to be some form of intellectual - perhaps good for finding targets but unlikely for eliminating them - perhaps they could work together if that was true.

Instinctively she knew she should be paying more attention for the very trap she feared but her mind was occupied with who was leading her to it rather than what it was - and self chastisement didn't change that.

[Caimheul]

Romulus is visibly excited as the service corridors of the vessel are revealed. <Ah, so this is how they manage to have all that space available for thoroughfares and rest areas. Standard colouration of wires and conduits of course...What do you mean these areas might not be safe? Hardly my concern, the others will keep an eye out for trouble. Interesting, they rely on physical signs as opposed to data uploads...> Romulu rambles on in techna-lingua while the group moves through the service passages.

[Gospel Noctis]

Finding herself much more at ease as the group of acolytes followed the captain down the long spartan hallways of the ships interior; the lack of useless decorations dressing the walls and floors proving to be a familiar comfort to the musclebound woman. The Tech-Priest too, unsurprisingly, seemed to also be feeling more at home here, the giddy tones of excitement apparently in his voice as he rambles on in that strange mechanical language of his.

Her assumptions on Lhos professions and the nature of her services to the Inquisitor seemed to be accurate, as the potential assassin subtly analyzed everyone and everything she encountered. Still, Zanna would definitely need to keep an eye out on that one. A person could never be certain when and if those types would turn on you.

Scab, on the other hand, was an oddity. He was, in her mind, the most functional person who had been mentally and spiritually broken she'd ever encountered. He had the wild eyes, trained habits, and ingrained responses of one whose mind was perpetually trapped on a battlefield. Usually those types need to be locked away, put down, or more commonly put to use on actual battlefields so as not to interfere with the workings of normal society. That said, as with a lot of these types, as long as they were still coherent enough to recognize you as a superior officer they made for great tools to be used. Still, he too would need to watched, lest he tip over the edge and make the transition from asset to liability, at which point she'd do what needed to be done.

Regardless, the most worrying individual at the moment was the captain. His actions and emotional state was becoming more and more unstable the closer they moved to the bridge. She couldn't help but wonder if maybe he knew something he wasn't quite letting on about. Just as a precaution, she slipped her shock maul from where it was clipped to her belt, grasping the bludgeon firmly in preparation of what might be to come.

"You seem anxious, captain. Tell me, what causes you such distress?" She asks, icy stare meeting the mans eyes.

Awareness: [roll0] TN 50

As a note, my helmet is fitted with a photo-visor and auspex, which raises my Awareness to 50 and gives me Dark Sight.

[Tigger]

As the captain reaches the intersection, you can see him looking at you and deciding that saying what is on his mind might not be such a terrible idea after all. It’s not as if you had not already been disappointed by this trip, and he might feel better if he said something.

But, before he is able to open his mouth, a group of men appears on your right, then another one on your left, and, when you look behind you to see if you can still escape, you can only realize that you are surrounded. Your ambushers share the same blue jumpsuits and the same pale skin shade. Their makeshift weapons are the tools of their trade, hammers and wrenches. There is a grim determination on their face, the look of men who have set a dangerous course for themselves and reached the point of no-return.
One of them detaches himself from the group and is immediately addressed by the captain:

“Quartermaster Childe, could you please explain me the meaning of this disturbing display of insubordination?
- This has been a long time coming Captain. You cannot be surprised.
- I hope you understand the path you’ve taken and where it leads you. I hope every man who is following you on this crazy road knows that this will end with a rope around your head.
- It might, Captain, it might. But for the time being, you will be brought for judgement before the Lay Court of the Swift Condor.
- I would laugh at your monkey court if this was not such a serious matter.”

As both the Captain and the Quartermaster turn towards you, you can feel that your presence is an unforeseen difficulty for both of them, and they don’t quite know what to do with you. Finally the Quartermaster sighing, adds:

“You should not have brought guests into this matter Captain. Please ask them to put their weapons down. There will be enough bloodshed before the end of this.”

The Captain seems to consider, as if he considered fighting the mutineers with your help. He almost immediately shakes his head with resignation

“Lord Trader, esteemed guests, I simply cannot ask you to die for me. Please do as the man says. Quartermaster, can you vouch their safety if they come in peace?
- As I am sure you understand, nothing can be guaranteed in our current situation. I’ll do my best.”

The Captain looks at you and shrugs.

"Please accept my apologies."

[ArcturusV]

Just because you're paranoid, doesn't mean people aren't out to get you.

"Scab" stealthed for a reason. He was reasonably certain that these blue people hadn't spotted him. He was pretty quiet, stayed out of the line of sight as the men here seemed more focused on the Captain, and the guests obviously on tour with him. Pressed up against a wall, weapons ready, his eyes flicked back and forth among the potential targets.

Eenie... meenie... miney... moe...

He had to escape. That much was certain. Escape was always the top priority. His eyes were constantly twitching, and he was braced on the edge of violence. His feet shifted under him slightly, and he looked like a predator about to pounce... or a rat about to flee. It was hard to say which was which. Even for him. Surrender was not an option, that had been drilled into his, both in early life and the guard.

He seemed focused on the men behind them. That seemed to him the easiest way to break out, going along paths they already knew, and facing a third of the force rather than a majority. His Autopistol was subtly aiming towards them, trying to keep from obvious movements, not to draw their attention too quickly, or trigger an attack quiet yet.

Clearly no one ever told these people just how dangerous a cornered vat rat really was.

I suppose that "Aiming while not looking like it" would be a Sleight of Hand test. Just trying to conceal the fact that I'm drawing down on some mooks.

Sleight of Hand: [roll0] vs 35 Agility, +0 Sleight of Hand training... probably a conditional bonus since an Autopistol is small, and one since I was already pretty de'd sneaky. Anyway, baseline mark of 35.

[Gospel Noctis]

It began as a slight quiver in her gut, before bubbling up into her chest. The sensation continued to build as the Arbitrator continued to review the scene before her before spilling forth as a deep chuckle. The chuckle quickly grew in strength, as a chortle of amusement, which proceeded to also grew into full blown laughter.

"And to think I feared that this trip would be a bore!" She exclaimed, wearing the the most amused expression anyone present had ever seen on the large woman. "A modified Gellar Field generator, a captain who clearly knows more than he's letting on, and a crew of mutineers hell bent on hanging the man by his own entrails. This entire situation positively reeks of Heresy! I'll give you a single chance to lay down your arms, any further acts of resistance will be taken as an admittance of your own guilt! THIS, IS AN INQUISITION!!"

Let's try a little bit of intimidation, shall we?

Intimidation: [roll0] TN 40+whatever bonuses.
Due to The Face of the Law I can reroll the Intimidation check if it fails, and can substitute my WP bonus(4) for degrees of success if I choose
Here's the reroll in case the first one fails: [roll1].

[dancrilis]

Lho

She had been about to take control of the situation when the Arbiter started laughing to herself - a dangerous sign, many laughed when they had no hope. As the woman started talking she began to suspect what was coming - it was a plan that had occurred to herself also, albeit in the relatively safety of a dinning area and not in corridors surrounded by likely enemies.

Well what is done was done - now to make use of the situation, glancing behind her she noted those gathered there she stepped back into the shadow of the wall and than into them, losing herself in the crowd, and beyond it.


Using the Hive World trait 'Teeming Masses in Metal Mountains' to treat the crowd as open terrain so that she can simple walk through them but near the wall, will roll stealth for how well this goes in the OOC.

[Caimheul]

<The odds are decidedly against us, surrender is the most likely course of action to lead to our survival...Or we could attempt that method.> Romulus mutters to Yasamine. <So which do you recommend? Fifteen seconds of suppressing fire, or some alternative... That is a decent idea...> the tech-priest trails off as he analyzes the various conduits running along the ceiling.

[Tigger]

Faces go white. Hands start shaking. In the background, you think you see someone throwing up on the floor. There is no greater satisfaction in the life of the lowly acolyte than to realize that, no matter how bad his own situation might be, he has the power to make everyone else’s much worse.

The Captain is especially rattled. He looks at you with a terror that presents a sharp contrast with his relative confidence when he was talking with the Quartermaster. Childe, on the other hand, recovers pretty soon his composure and directs his attention to Zanna.

“If you truly are an agent of the Holy Orders of the Emperor’s Inquisition, I request that you hear the plea from the crew of this proud ship. Our current revolt is born out of desperation and we only seek to serve the Imperium onboard this ship, as our forefathers did. It is to save our souls from the perils of heresy that we have taken such extreme actions. And we are within our rights under the Charter of the Swift Condor.”

He then thinks for quite some time and adds: “Of course, if you could prove to us your affiliation with an Inquisitor, we would consider ourselves blessed by your presence. Would you agree to have your mind read by our Astropath?”

[Warmatt]

Matthias internally sighs. Really, there was such a thing as subtly, to not loudly declare who they work for, particularly as they were not here on official business. Then again, was there ever truly off duty before you died? With that thought, Pyrebrand spoke, his tones calm, reasonable, if somewhat stern and focused, eyes on the quartermaster. "As a Savant-Militant, sanctioned to Imperial service, I would submit myself to your Astropaths probing."

Unspoken is that he would probe in return, to establish that the Astropath was sanctioned themselves.

[dancrilis]

Lho

Slipping through the ranks of the crew behind her colleagues she than slowed as she proceeded into the darkness behind them - she would follow them from a safe distance, and if it turned hostile she would take the action she felt was appropriate.

She sneered at the mention of mind reading, while one could accuse it of being a horrible invasion of the person and allowing for the gateway to worse abuses, a mutant leader in the lower hive had a number of slaves working for him like that once - she had slaughtered them all even after he was dead and they claimed to be free, if he touched there minds once he might have left stuff in there. On a more practical note it also made it difficult to kill someone unexpectedly if they knew what you were planning.

But much of the conversation was lost on her at as the distance grew, catching pieces only occasionally of particular interest.

Away from the others she started began to take note if any other oddities within she ship, symbols on the walls or floors, signs of unclean habitation or the habitation of the unclean - items of familiarity from a lower hive that spoke of mutants or the deranged.


I would see her following at ~60meters (more if she can maintain sight to them for following at longer ranges, less if the corridors are fairly short).

With Agility Bonus 4, assuming that any of the crew have a bonus of only 2 she is effectively twice as fast as them - so moving at half speed to note things and avoid detection (if they all have a 3 or higher, than moving at 75% speed to map to the other Acolytes).

[ArcturusV]

Most of the discussion went over his head. Names he didn't recognize, concepts he didn't really know. But he knew well enough the word 'Inquisition', and head on a swivel he glanced around expecting the very word would somehow make the Fancy Hat appear out of a bulkhead to pass judgement upon them all, guilty and innocent alike.

A few moments passed, and he saw there wasn't an incoming Fancy Hat, there was no loud whine of bolter shells or crackles of power smiting down everyone here. His heart was hammering against his breast, and he found himself backing even harder against his hiding spot, sticking to the shadows that melded fairly well with his dark clothing. He kept things quiet, not wanting to be drawn into whatever insanity was forming in this place, hoping that the inattentive ratings bypassed him, too focused on all the loud, clumsy people around the captain.

... as long as he wasn't spotted, then he had a chance to follow them. To watch them. To find out what was really going on, and to ruin HERESY from an angle they hardly could expect.

[Caimheul]

Romulus stutters slightly, not being used to having this much of an audience. "I I I assure you that should what you reference have anything to do with the abuse of the Gellar field's machine spirit, the Magos Juris of the Adeptus Mechanicus will be extremely interested." <Hopefully they don't need to remove my brain again...> "Can you tell me how many Tech-priests and/or Magos are presently allocated to this vessel?" he inquires hesitantly.

[Tigger]

Your group, surrounded by voidsmen, starts moving in the direction indicated by the Quartermaster. You can feel that the apparition of agents of the Inquisition is on the mind of every rating. You can hear the conversations between some of them, as they are unaware that their neighbors are not part of the crew: they mostly wonder whether you will side with the crew or with “them”.

The Quartermaster, turning towards Romulus, says: “Enginseer Karvin is the head of the Mechanicus on board. He has a small crew of Servitors and Tech-Thralls that assist him in his work. He will be glad to speak with a fellow tech-priest about the damage that our ship has suffered at the hands of our masters.”

Al-Razid, who has remained silent until now, starts whispering to Matthias and Zanna: “I knew there was something special about your group, the way you handled yourselves in the dining room. But the Inquisition, I have to admit I am impressed, and less worried about what may happen to us. Emperor knows Chartered crews are tough to handle when they feel their ancient rights are being infringed, but they might respect your opinion.”

After a long walk through the hallways of the ship, you finally reach your destination, which turns out to be the chapel of the ship. You have all seen larger places of worship, but it is hard not to be amazed at its sheer size and grandeur. The columns, covered in ex-votos thanking various saints for their help in the battles that were fought by the Swift Condor, are tens of meter high. The chapel is packed with ratings, and those who were escorting sit where they can.

You are led towards the choir, which has been converted in what looks like a courtroom for the occasion. While the captain is led to the accused bench, you remark three different groups: one of senior voidsmen, which the Quartermaster joins, one of tech-priests and finally a gathering of members of the Imperial Cult, with a blind man in their midst.

[ArcturusV]

"Scab" was good at one thing. Maybe it was the thing that made the Fancy Hat pick him out of everyone. Or the other thing. He never really knew. But he knew he was good at one thing. And that one thing was staying hidden. Back home... back in the comforting darkness, it was a matter of survival. Anything that wasn't hidden was prey, no matter how powerful they thought they were, eventually something in the darkness was more powerful, and would relish taking them down and crunching on their bones. Just the facts of the darkness. So you remained hidden. You stalked the Vat Rats from the shadows, avoided making any sounds, kept your heartbeat low and steady, and moved quickly from hiding spot to hiding spot when you had a clear chance.

The battlefield was no different. He saw it time and time again. The people who didn't hide were killed. Plain and simple. No matter how tough they seemed, no matter how skilled with their weapons, there was always someone tougher, someone more skilled... or just more people than they could kill, as also happened.

So he had years and years of practice at being hidden. None of the Ratings seemed to notice him. It even seemed like his own Dinner Companions had failed to notice him. That worked fine for him. Less chance that they would look around for him, and remind people that there might be someone missing. He had heard one of the officers quote it before, "A war is easily won if your enemy doesn't know he's fighting". To the simplistic Scab it seemed smart, be hidden, wait and wait... then just like the Vat Rats back home, hit them with a rock while they were eating or sleeping.

He had that same look on his face now, as he followed them to the Cathedral, staying out of the line of sight of the ratings. That simple blank expression he wore when he was about to smash a Vat Rat with a rock. He didn't know who he was smashing yet... but he was sure that the Fancy Hat would want him to smash someone. He waited by the doorway, looking for that moment when the fancy robes started talking, where everyone's attention would be focused, and he could slip in unseen and unheard to find a nice spot to wait for the splattering.

[dancrilis]

Lho

Slipping into the back of the room Lho moved to reviewed the area spotting the balcony she moved to take advantage, it would give her a clear line of sight to the assorted peoples and allow her to take out targets with relative ease.

Securing any doors to the balcony behind her it would allow her time if the situation turned badly, she examined the Organ for a time trying to come to grips with what it was for and choose the better part of curiosity, and decided not to interfere with it yet. Were the tubes at the top for missiles? Why attack the ceiling? she was unsure about these questions as she lay flat in the darkness rifle underneath her as she prepared to kill any that needed it - the others could handle the social niceties but it things got dark she could quite rabble so order could be maintained.

[Gospel Noctis]

"You can be assured, Sir Trader, that by the time we are through all transgressions will be made to be paid for." The Arbitrator reasoned. "If the captain has broken Imperial Law, he shall pay for his crimes. The same applies to the ships crew, and anyone else who is found to have a hand in this mess. Justice will be dealt, of that I am certain."

'It seems none of the workers have taken note of Scab as of yet.' She noted, observing the groups newly acquired entourage; taking great satisfaction in the quick fearful glances the workers were occasionally throwing their way. 'It seems his jitteriness has paid off already, and Lho too seems to have slipped off into the shadows. I can see why Lucan places his trust in these two; such vigilance is worthy of praise.'

"Quartermaster, what exactly are the crimes that the captain here are being accused of?"

[Tigger]

The following happens along the way to the chapel.

"You'll hear all about it when the Lay Court convenes. The most important thing for the crew is that he is the agent of those who are preventing us to obey our sacred Oath under the Charter. Also, we have tried to have him report to the Arbites what we consider to be suspicious activities on the ship, the modification of the Gellar Field being just one of them but the damned sycophant has always refused to do so out of subservience to his masters."

[Caimheul]

"If you will excuse me," Tech-Priest Romulus says to no one in particular before he splits off to approach the assemblage of members of the Adeptus Mechanicus, addressing the first of their number he encounters in Techna-Lingua. <Hello world. This unit is identified as Romulus Verduyn may I interface with the most senior of your present number?>

[Tigger]

The tech-priests turn towards Romulus and examine him thoroughly, as well as his servo-skull. The most augmented of them, after a few moments, answers in Techna-Lingua <Hello Romulus Verduyn. I am Enginseer Karvin, senior representative of the Adeptus Mechanicus on the Swift Condor. Quartermaster Childe has indicated to us that we have been blessed, in these troubled times, with the presence of an Inquisitorial party. Are you on of its members? I know me and my colleagues would be glad to expose to you our dismay at what the machine spirits of this ship have had to suffer.>

[Warmatt]

Looking around, he is calm, at least on the surface. Still, he wonders. How is it that he had not yet been caught, and that only now was the crew deciding to act? In a way, it reeked of something moving in the shadows, something he did not like at all. And yet, what else could he do other then go forward, and hope that the others could do their assigned roles and jobs as best they could? Still, as he looks at the Astropath, he is glad in a way he was not selected to become one. Say what you will, but he enjoyed his sight very much, and did not like being bound so tightly, savoring what freedom he was allowed. He understood that he must be leashed, but he did not wish to wear a shackle.

[ArcturusV]

"Scab" tried to stay out of sight, and out of mind, sliding beneath one of the pews of the Chapel, the furthest back one. He could hear all the strange buzzing of the metal faced people, always creepy, and was reasonably sure that even if he couldn't watch, he'd at least hear if something was going to go terribly, terribly wrong there while not being in anyone's line of sight. After all, how often do people check under their seat? Or under the seat of someone one or more rows behind you?

Once down there, on his back, quietly shimming under the cover, he had time to think. There were a lot of people here. Potential Heretics. Fancy Hat taught him that. Everyone's a potential heretic. If things went wrong, they'd go wrong very fast, with that many people. He was decent with a rock, or a blade. But even Scab balked at the idea of taking on the entire cult full of HERESY here if it came to that. It probably would too. That Sticker mentioned "Inquisition". Scab had never seen anything not end in blood, fire, or possibly bloody fire, or fiery blood, once that word was spoken. The Sticker didn't look like the Fancy Hat... but maybe it was some weird disguise. Could he do that? Probably. He had serious magic.

So then, what was he supposed to do? Normally it would be smash it with a rock. Or a Chainsword. Both worked. Too many to smash. It was as he looked over at all the rating boots next to him that he smiled, and started to get an idea.

He worked first at the end near the center isle. The three people there who were closest to the end of the pew. Scab was de'd sneaky, his fingers were nimble, and he waited for the big Inquisition to Start and draw everyone's attentions for the added distraction. Once he felt safe, he started working. Carefully, lightly, working with just his fingertips and not drawing attention with any overt movements or tugs, started tying the laces of each pair of boots together.

He had seen that trick in the regiment, messing with the 'whiteshields' as they called them. Scab knew it was considered childish. Scab knew that if the HERETICS were determined, it wouldn't hold them for long as they just trampled over the fallen or ripped off their boots or cut the laces. Scab also knew that if something happened and people moved quickly, they didn't generally check to see if their boots were tied. And three people falling on their faces like that could clog up the lane for everyone else and cause a little confusion.

Once he did those three... he silently slid on his back over to the other end of the pew, to do the others. It wasn't much, but he considered this row 'dealt with' in the first few moments of hostilities if this worked out.

Well, sounds like a Sleight of Hand test for me to set my very, very childish trap.

Sleight!: [roll0] vs 35 Agility. +0 Sleight of Hand Training. Conditional modifiers for stealth and such? Not sure. Baseline mark of 35. I'm hoping for a lot of conditional modifiers...

[Gospel Noctis]

The Arbitrator watched as Romulus took off towards the congregation of tech-priests, likely trying to pry whatever information he could from the group of like-minded individuals. She'd leave him to his work, he would likely be able to understand whatever information the members of the mechanicus held better than she.

"Shall your Lay Court gather soon, Quartermaster?" She asked, her tone polite if a bit sharp. "There is much to discuss."

[Tigger]

The Astropath walks towards Pyrebrand, places his hands on his forehead and whispers: "Lucan would be proud." As he says this, Matthias senses his mind being touched by the will of the Astropath. After a few seconds, the blind psyker turns towards the Quartermaster and simply nods his head.

Childe looks pleased and his voice booms through the chapel as he proclaims:

"Dear shipmates, unlike the so-called captain of the so-called Happy Wanderer, we welcome the presence of agents of the most Holy Inquisition aboard the Swift Condor on this fateful day. And now, let me tell them a story that we have all heard from our parents, as they had heard it from their own.

Our forefathers were great voidsmen. When the Reign of Blood was ended by Saint Sebastian, they wished to leave their lives as merchant shipmen and become part of the fleet of the God Emperor. But, as so many of the faithful of their days, they feared that pledging loyalty to the Imperium could lead them to betrayal of the Emperor. And so they sold everything they owned, worked for a generation, and built the Swift Condor. And when they offered themselves and their ship to the Imperial Navy, they asked for a Charter. They swore that they and all their descendants would live and die in the service of the Emperor, and they were given the right to resist any superior that would try to lead them into heresy or betrayal of the Emperor.

You know what they will tell us if we are ever to be tried for our rightful insurrection. They will say that this ship is not the Swift Condor, that this ship is the Happy Wanderer." The ratings boo at this, even those that are untying their laces with a smile for the facetious child that probably tied them. "They will say that this ship is not anymore a part of the Imperial Navy, they will say it is a cruise ship of the Legacy.

And you know what we will answer. We don't know why this ship was decommissioned and sold to a corporation. It may be, as they said to us, that military fast clippers are a thing of the past. It may be, as they implied, that chartered crews are considered a nuisance.

But we swore an oath, as our forefathers before us. And we will fight for the right to do our duty.

You also all know that this is not all. It could not be all. Our new masters, who had not qualms at being part of the cabal to prevent us from obeying our oaths, have shown their true colors. The ancient machines that our forefathers obtained from the Mechanicus were tampered with. We were asked to bring strange shipments and strange persons to far away places. And our captain refused to support our reports of these horrors, and our reports were written off as chartered crew lunacies as a result.

The man standing here will say that he was only obeying orders. Just as Vandire's servants did. And, thanks to the help of the most worthy travelers this ship has seen in a long time, may his fate be as theirs.

The Lay Court is now in session, and will hear the defence of the accused."

I'm gonna need an awareness check from Zanna, Matthias and Romulus. I'll give you a +10 for it.

[ArcturusV]

Nothing that was booming out in the "Lay Court" made a lick of sense to Scab. References rattled off that were nothing but empty words to him. The idea of the Apostasy and Reign of Blood, or heck, even the Imperial Navy (He was Guard, he had nothing to do with them) or the bizarre idea about belonging to this strange organization no matter what anyone said all was beyond him. Hiding there under that pew, gripping a chainsword, heart beating as he expected to have to chainsaw right through the pew and the people there any moment, this was as alien to him as the Sun was to a Vat Rat.

He understood that captain. He saw that look in the man's eyes. Someone who didn't want to be there, but was forced to by threat of BLAM!. Scab knew what that was like. His whole life, once he was dragged off to the Imperial Guard, was like that. Always someone watching. Always someone judging. One of those Red Sashes with their Bolt Pistols. An officer barking out orders or he'd order the others to open fire on him unless he charged right into the face of some hulking green creature. The Fancy Hat promising hells he couldn't even fully imagine if he failed to uphold the standards of the Lamp Man on some distant hive.

He understood that.

He did not understand someone who was apparently freed from BLAM! at any given moment, and wanting to go back. If he was free, he would crawl into some dark hole and disappear forever. He'd go back home.

This was insanity. Pure, unadulterated, insanity. Insanity was the mark of HERESY. Fancy Hat said something like that. Insanity was the Mind Killer, turning the Faithful into puppets of Evil. The only cure for Insanity was death.

... he gripped that chainsword a little bit tighter.

[dancrilis]

Lho

She was almost still as she surveyed the crowd through the sights, choosing targets for maximum chaos and collateral damage - there were simply too many of them to kill, it would take all day even if they cooperated, which they likely wouldn't.

However despite the oddity of the gathering it didn't feel too bad to her - she could only make out pieces of what was said, and her lip reading was not great but effectively 'hail to the Emperor, this guy is a dirty heretic, who deserves to be shot' seemed to sum it up. And frankly of course he deserved to be shot that was why she shot him.

Still the blindfolded person was dubious - mutants hid there failings under covers and blocking ones eyes seemed to be an extreme reaction - did the blindfold hid mouths and teeth?, tentacles? she didn't know but she didn't like it.

The rogue trader might have to die also - he had threatened her, and his family would likely have to die with him so that any taint didn't linger on them. She would have to see.

Scab was still missing and she wondered where he was - perhaps hiding somewhere close, but to do what? She would shoot her targets and escape down the route she came from before the chaos died down - she could than see about the ship. But what would he do? It could aid her or hinder if he acted in a similar manner to herself.

A mother with a baby was noted - babies were soft targets, no armour, high moral impact on surrounding people - but the after affects of the shock was normally rage which could be dangerous when trapped with others, the option was available if she wanted it she supposed, but as a last resort for now she decided. No the captain, the trader and the blind would be her three baring changes.
Should take less than a minute - more than enough time to get away as those in the back failed to understand what had happened.

[Caimheul]

<I am assisting them with their present investigation. I am curious as to why you have not contacted the Magos Juris concerning this matter, or as you still awaiting their response? For that matter, what organization or Magos actually tampered with the machine spirits?> Romulus inquires.

[Tigger]

While the Quartermaster relates the glorious history of the Swift Condor, Enginseer Karvin answers <We did try to bring this matter to the attention of the Magos Juris, but our pleas were not answered, and we were told numerous times that the file was being reviewed, but nothing ever came out of it: to say we are still awaiting their response would not convey the fact that we have lost all hope to be heard. As for who made the modifications, they never told their names to us but they were tech-priests detached to the Legacy.>

[Caimheul]

<This is most concerning. It is possible the Magos Juris is occupied with some greater threat in these troubled times, but that does leave this vessel in a precarious predicament. Would it be possible to obtain a detailed listing of the pain of this nobel vessel's machine spirits?> Romulus says as his brow furrows worriedly.

[Tigger]

<We will provide you with copies of all our complaints before the Mago Juris. Perhaps your connections in the Inquisition will allow to make sure our voice is heard. We are truly blessed to have you on board. Praise the Omnissiah!> Enginseer Karvin turns his attention towards the Quartermaster as his speech seems to be about to end.

[Gospel Noctis]

"Captain," She turns to the man. "What have you to say about these accusations? What defense can you muster, what counterarguments can you give? These are grave implications that seem to trace their origins beyond you. So tell me, what have your superiors been telling you to do?"

[Warmatt]

Taking note of the red bot trained on the captains forehead, he ponders. Should he, or should he not? In the end, as he listens to the speech, he merely nods his head, seemingly lost in thought, as a thin tendril extends to the captain. Better to keep him alive to get all information first after all.


Telepathic Link TN 55; [roll0]

Message; Sniper. Duck.

[Tigger]

Captain Taiko might not have obeyed had the command been shouted to him, but the intrusion of his mind by Matthias surprised him enough that he ducked as if the thought had naturally occurred to him, thus saving his life from the laser shot that burned the stonewall behind him.

Let's roll both an awareness test to see if someone is able to locate the sniper and Initiative.

[Caimheul]

The distinctive crack of a lasweapon being discharged immediately draws Romulus's attention, his eyes happening to catch the glint of a scope in the upper gallery. <Null Pointer Exception> A foul personage is attempting to hinder justice!" Romulus says as he bring his autorifle up and holds the trigger down losing a fusilade of bullets in the direction of the unknown assailant.

Free Action Quick Draw
Full action Full-Auto Suppressing Fire: [roll0] TN 15 (BS 25 +10 Short Range -20 Suppressing Fire)
Damage 1: [roll1]
Damage 2: [roll2]
Well he still has to take a -20 WP test. So at least he is likely restricted to half actions... which will keep him from aiming and getting Accurate damage!


Wounds: 11/11
Fate: 2/3
Magazine: 20/30

[Warmatt]

As the las weapon cracks, Matthias sighs and frowns, his staff pointing towards the sniper, and whispers a faint mantra to himself, more annoyed then anything else at the moment. Still, if they were going to kill the Captain, could they not have the decency to do it after they wrung ever scrap of information from him and stripped his mind bare of any hidden secrets related to this heresy? Really, was this too much to ask?

Still, as his thoughts were annoyed, flame roared to life, covering the sniper, even as he whispered out loud, mostly to himself. "Justa Conditoris ignis ardebit."


"Burn in righteous fire"

[dancrilis]

Lho

Scanning the crowd she only noted the happenings when the captain ducked, the sound being lost over the crowd - she started scanning the other viewpoints quickly initally focused on the ones closest to her she the bullet fire began at the opposite end of the hall and the assailant was set on fire - wait - her mind doing a retake, the scholar moved pointed his staff and the man caught alight, a witch - her sights centred on him for a second he was a witch, instinctively her finger was on the trigger and tightening as she centred on his head, but she stopped. Lucan had apparently hired the man he was not a target but an asset - to be used as needed but not trusted, and he had outed himself now.

Refocusing herself on the scene it was insulting to her sensibilities, here she was outside of the range of most small arms fire - and hopefully witchery - with an escape plan and a full view of the room and some twit had set themselves up in such a poor position. They would have been better in the crowd and trying to slip away that that kind of nonsense. Further his shot had missed - who missed at that range with surprise, if the gun malfunctioned fine but it seemed unlikely.

She returned to the crowd and noted where other snipers and agitators might set themselves - it sometimes a good idea to recruit some moron to lure out defenders so that you knew the odds before a more serious assault.


No actions - just trying to keep an eye out for other hostilities.

[Tigger]

To the audience sitting in the chapel, the events that unfolded in the choir happened so fast that there was barely anytime for panic to set in. In just a few seconds, a las shot had missed the captain by inches, a tech-priest had started to blast away at the upper gallery and something had caught fire up there. Some ratings did move towards the exit, others did go to the ground, and most children went into the arms of their parents but, for the most part, this strange turn of events seemed to stun the crowd.

The behavior of one man, who was sitting a few ranks up from Scab, is at odds with the reaction of everyone else. He gets up, pulls a shogun that was concealed from under his clothes and starts moving towards the altar.

[Gospel Noctis]

She was on the move the second the las shot cracked the air, weapon drawn and ready. 'Someone is trying to silence the captain.' She mused, looking to the blackened marking on the floor, what would have likely been the mans skull had he not ducked when he did. 'How did he know it was coming? He seemed to dodge before even realizing anything was wrong. A ruse, perhaps?' Zanna stowed the thought away for the time being, she'd get to that later. The important thing now was to make sure the captain survived this encounter, if only so she could manage a more thorough interrogation.

"Get down and stay down!" She ordered the man, rushing to his side before taking a defensive stance. She wouldn't be able to get to the sniper faster than her new comrades could, but what she could do is make sure no one laid a hand on the captain.

[Caimheul]

<If these units would pardon me, I will to attempt to save the machine spirit that individual was utilizing.> Romulus says to his fellow tech-priest with a slight inclination of his head before hustling to the stairs that lead to the sniper's gallery, respirator implants wheezing, and Yasamine floating along behind him like a well trained dog.

[Warmatt]

Looking at the burning man, Matthias stepped forward, and reached out with his mind, trying to gaze into his secrets, and gather what information he could, but his only hope was that as stunned and lit on fire as the man was, his mental defenses would be weakened, and open to his probing. It would be useful for the report.

[ArcturusV]

People moving, people screaming, people hitting the deck. One or two most likely saw them as they hugged the ground, or so the twitchy man figured. It was probably not a comforting image to hit the deck trying to hide from gunfire and magical doom blazes, only to find someone with a chainsaw and an autopistol down there seemingly waiting for them. Or maybe they were too busy covering their eyes and hiding to notice.

... but Scab figured they had probably seen him.

The Shotgun Rider for the assault didn't phase him. The man was focused elsewhere. It was a short ranged weapon, the others should have time to pick him up and pick him off before he got into range. Instead he was looking for the long game. People were running and that meant containment issues and possibly others involved in this trying to escape. It'd be what he would expect out of HERETICS, a cowardly lot, a plan, a backup plan, and someone to run away to set up HERESY once more if it all failed like this was about to.

He rolled on his shoulder and stood up behind the last pew, holding up his weapons plainly, but he was looking towards the crowd running for the door. Sucking in a big breath, he bellowed out loudly over the clatter and din of the panicked evacuation, "IMPERIAL GUARD! HIT THE DECK!" trying to play to the imperial standard of, well... people just blindly following orders lest they get called a heretic and blam'd by someone or Sticked by one of those Stickers like Zanna.

If they didn't hit the deck, well, he was going to remind them why they were supposed to follow orders...

[Tigger]

Generations of obeying to orders show immediately when the voice of Scab is heard by the ratings, and most of them, glad to be told what they are supposed to do, hit the deck.

The shogun-carrying man does not, however. He keeps walking towards the choir and, as he grows nearer to the group standing there, he shouts, in an exasperated voice: "Do you have any idea who you're munitining against? You and your friends are dead!"


Everyone else can keep their previous roll.
[roll0]

[Gospel Noctis]

Spotting the crazed shotgun toting newcomer coming, Zanna stepped in front of the captain, bodily shielding the man from incoming attack.

"Now what?" She muttered to herself, as she watched the strange man step forward. "You there!" She called out. "Lay down your arms and state your business, you are interfering with an Imperial investigation."

[dancrilis]

Lho

It was curious - the man produced his shotgun and brazenly began to walk towards the group, a group that if the let him get close he might harm one of them before he was dealt with and even that was unlikely.

The obvious answer to her was that it was a faint - everyone focuses on the obvious threat and ignores the real attack, combined with the short range sniper it would merely be extending the misdirection.

She would likely save her 'fellows' if needed but for now she was unconcerned.

[Caimheul]

<What do you mean this makes no sense? What of this situation has made sense to you?> Romulus beeps at the servo-skull following behind him. <This seems perfectly reasonable, a member of the ship's security attempting to put down a mutiny,> he retorts, continuing his journey to the upper areas with all due haste, although he does try to stay near cover as he does so.

[Tigger]

The shotgun-totting man keeps moving forward but points his shotgun to the ground. "I am interfering with an Imperial Investigation? What the hell are you talking about? I am just trying to put a stop to this crazy rebellion and get us back to any port of call. That will be the time for a proper investigation, rather than this mockery of justice."

The quartermaster emerges from the altar behind which he had taken cover and shouts: "Sure! A proper investigation which will no doubt find that we are vulgar mutineers who should be hanged and that nothing wrong has ever happened to this ship. Don't take us for a band of fools, Compton. We've had enough."

At these words, Compton snorts. "You're not the victim here, Childe. You're the culprit, and you deserve to be hanged. I am sure you have not told any of your new friends how it was you who switched off the Gellar Field to take control of the ship."

[Gospel Noctis]

"And so the plot thickens..." Zanna chuckled dryly, eyeing the captain, Childe, and the newly named 'Compton' with a predatory stare and shark-like grin. "Is there anyone else here who want to make any further claims? This farce seems to run deeper and deeper with every addition. So let me ask you all this, are all parties presently aboard this ship with whom you are aware of that played a major role in this entire incident currently within this room?"

[ArcturusV]

The shooting seemed not to happen. No need to rev his chainsword, no need to execute someone. No need to run and hide when the bullets started. Still... things were weird. He knew they were weird, even if he wasn't a Voidsman himself. He didn't catch all the terms being used by everyone, buuuut when weapons came out and it sounded like two people were accusing one another... well... that was usually a sign of things needing sorting out. Fancy Hat was good at that. Scab was merely good at hiding, finding, and killing. He wondered where the Fancy Hat was, and if he was watching all this going on. Or maybe if say, the Sticker out there was actually the Fancy Hat all dressed up and hidden in plain sight.

Nonetheless, he had a job to do. Well, two really. But this one was easier. Imperial Guard standards, he was 'under orders' from the General after all. Stepping back to the cathedral door to take up a guard position against anyone breaking in (Or out), he started gesturing towards the people down on the ground, directing them to go over towards the north side of the Chapel, where they'd be out of the way of a general firefight, if that's what happened. And where he could keep an eye on them.

"Move slowly, stay low," he told them. It was an authoritative tone he took, but not a harsh one. Something his Sergeant might have used to get a scared soldier back into the fight without calling over the Red Sash to shoot him in the head. Imperial Guard doctrine, if nothing else. They were the Shield of Humanity, meant to protect the civilians from the ravages of battle after all. His duty seemed clear, give them something to focus on (Even if it was just getting out of the way) to take their minds off their fears and the conflict going on, and get them out of the line of fire in case that Tech-Priest started spraying bullets around again.

He was far too stuck in the open. He hated it. He wished he could crawl into a hole and hide. Or go find a way out into that comforting darkness outside the window earlier. Only the fear of failing his duty, and what might happen because of it, kept his feet rooted to the ground and his mind on keeping control of the situation best he could.

[Caimheul]

"Are you referring to the Gellar field that was allegedly modified by an outside agency? And how are you in possession of this knowledge you claim?" Romulus inquires of the armsman.

[Tigger]

Compton, now almost in the choir, raises his hands and says: "I only know what I heard on the com from the barracks before they jammed our transmissions. Commander said that his console clearly showed the Gellar Field failure was intentional. It's obvious that Childe and his crones got tired of having everyone treating their crazy ramblings as the nonsense they are and decided to take justice into their own hands. So you can say that all the parties to the incident are present, because as far as I am concerned, the ringleaders are all standing in front of me."

In the background, the voidsmen start moving towards the north of the chapel. Even though some take the north exit, most are too curious about the happenings in the choir to get to safety.

Back around the altar, Childe is looking grim and determined. "We did what we had to do to save our souls, and if it leads us to death, the Emperor will recognize that we only intended to serve Him. Our only choice is to purge the ship of the servants of the heretic Legacy, comes what may. First the captain, then the barracks."

[ArcturusV]

Scab turned to point his autopistol near the north door as Voidsmen started heading towards it, "Stay!" he commanded sharply, like training some Guard Auxilia Beast. No one was escaping until he was certain this was all under control. And of course, he couldn't be sure that the people slinking out weren't HERETICS that Fancy Hat would want smote badly anyway. Leave that for Fancy Hat to determine. In fact he glanced over at Zanna, and trying to catch her gaze, cocked his head over towards the voidsmen, silently asking for the Sticker who may or may not be Fancy Hat Lucan in Disguise to go help corral some of the voidsmen, maybe start getting to work doing what it was Stickers did to get them to talk. Or at the very least be aware some of them were sneaking out and might need to be hauled in later if nothing else.

He was vaguely hearing snippets about a Barracks, a Fancy Hat Officer, Souls and Emprah service. He was frowning, something odd occurring to him amid all the technical lingo and such.

Did this guy talk to the General from earlier? He did seem to be the ranking officer. Barracks meant Guardsmen after all. Why didn't the Bolt Pistol BLAM! out when people went crazy? Why was he so eager to see people walk off and not finish the Inquisition of the people on board as per regulations?

... none of this made sense to him.

[dancrilis]

Lho

So the situation was being resolved with word - nice cheap words. Scab had revealed himself also and assumed control of a bunch of the crew - easily cowed - which was a benefit.

Ultimately there was not a lot for her to do her - and exploring the ship for enemies would likely be counter productive, as the old saying went 'stay in one place long enough and someone worth shooting will eventually show up', or maybe the situation would be resolved without that and she could retain her bullets for later.

She would prefer that actually.

[Caimheul]

"Without reviewing any technical readouts, the possibility exists that the abused machine spirit of the Gellar field is having difficulties communicating with the bridge's systems. Should there not have been armed guards on the Gellar field during transit to prevent sabotage?" Romulus inquires as he continues to head towards where the sniper was located. Now attempting to get any weapons the man had prior to one of the ship's crew trying to use it.

[Tigger]

"Sure there were two guards standing there. I wonder what happened to them, but our friend Childe here probably knows more about any of this than me."

At this point, you can see that the patience of the Quartermaster is starting to run out as he starts speaking: "Compton, either you surrender yourself peacefully or you'll suffer the consequences of your bravado. Plus, do you really wish to die out of loyalty to your commander, who just tried to have the captain killed?"

Meanwhile, the ratings, now massed in the northern part of the chapel, have stopped exiting the building for now, but look as if they are one fired shot away from either running for the exit or tearing apart the armsman standing in the choir.

[Warmatt]

Looking at the man, Matthias wonders almost what the mans game is. "So, you are only interested in restoring order, and not shutting the captains mouth, as your associate," at that he gestured towards the still burning corpse of the sniper, "was under orders to do so? And as for your allegations, they are serious as well. Still, a proper investigation will be held, to gather the facts, and determine guilt."

[Tigger]

At these words, you can see Compton loosing his confidence, as if he had been trying not to think too much about the assassination attempt. He looks at the charred ratling corpse hanging from the balcony, sighs and says, his voice hesitating for the first time: "I don't know anything about this. As I said, the security com system was jammed a few seconds after all hell broke loose, so I am just trying to my job and prevent the crew from doing anything stupid. Mutinying is already a bad decision, but mutinying against the Legacy is absolutely suicidal. There is nowhere this ship could escape to where they wouldn't track it down."

On the other side of the building, an old voidsman walks towards Scab and extends this hand towards him. "You're really a guardsman, aren't you? We have ferried a lot of guardsmen in and out of besieged planets of the sector back when we were blockade runners. In which regiment did you serve?"

[Caimheul]

<Well, yes, that would provide them with protection, but we'd have to clear it first.> Romulus mutters to Yasamine as he approaches the dead body in the gantry, looking in particular for the would be assassin's armament.

[ArcturusV]

"Scab" looked down and blinked at the hand being jutted out towards him. No knife or anything. He would have expected that. In fact he was about ready to take his Chainsword across in a defensive swipe, all the shouting and burninating, gunfire, and tension still having him honed in on 'combat mode'. It took a moment for him to realize that the gesture was not an attack, and another to realize the man was asking him a question.

This was one of the few bits he did know, even press ganged conscripts like him got a run through of Regimental History and the like, it was a basic building block of camaraderie that helped forge individual gangers and fighters into a cohesive regiment after all, identifying themselves as a We rather than an I. "Sinares 3,675th, 'The Brass Dragons'," he responded in a rough voice, unused to so much talking as he had been doing lately.

[Gospel Noctis]

Zanna looked over the assembled masses wearing a look of distaste. "Then since everyone of importance is present, let us begin our questioning. My most pressing question is currently directed towards you, Quartermaster." She fixed the man with a hard measured stare. "Did you, or did you not tinker with the workings of the Gellar Field Generator, resulting in the loss of several lives aboard this vessel?"

The Arbiter analyzed the man carefully as he stammered out his answer, her eyes narrowing sharply as he admitted his guilt before attempting to smooth things over by offering up a few weak excuses. She swiftly cut the man off, unwilling to listen to anymore of this heretics cracked reasoning. "Enough!" She thundered, eyes wild and snarling. "Heresy begets Heresy! Are you truly fool enough to think that getting caught in the act by servants of the Imperium excuses you of your crimes?! By your hand innocent men and women have been slain this day, their lives claimed while gripped by the daemonic madness of the Warp! You and your men have allowed the actions of another to divert you from the Emperors righteous path and in doing so have stained your very existence with your crime!"

"And you!" She spun around, looming over the captain like some sort of furious iron-wrought obelisk. "The order to modify the ships field generator was the catalyst that set these events into motion. By whose orders were these modifications made? From how far up the chain of command does this flood Heresy trickle? Speak!"

He too stammered out his answers, before finally offering up his notes on the subject in exchange for protection from his employers and the men on board. That was a mistake, one he realized fairly quickly as a single armored hand wrapped around his throat and lifted him from the floor and brought him face to face with the Arbiter. Her next words were as soft and as cold as an arctic wind and seemed to cut through him just as easily. "You seem to misunderstand the current situation, captain. You are not in a position to make demands or to pose ultimatums. We are going to get every, single, drop of information out of you, one way or another. While I am trying to be civil about this any attempts to resist or conceal information from me will change that faster than you can possibly imagine. That said, you have little to fear from the mutineers or your employers." Her expression turned gleefully vicious. "No, the one you should be afraid of is me." She released the man, letting him fall back to the floor, gasping for air.

"Quartermaster, give me a list of every member of your crew that directly worked on modifying the generator at your request. Next, I'd like a list of everyone who knew of the order yet was not directly involved in the process. Note that I will question and cross reference everyone on the subject. If I find even a single discrepancy in what is being told I will see every working man aboard this vessel hanged for Heresy."

[Caimheul]

Romulus descends the stairs softly beeping encouragingly at the damaged longlas. <Do not worry little one, Yasamine and I shall repair you as soon as we are able. In the meanwhile we shall endeavour to find the opportunity to at the very least free you from the worst of the filth that lies upon you.> As he reaches the bottom of the stairs, he slings the charred longlas over one shoulder and approaches Zanna, stopping at what he deems to be an appropriate distance. "Arbitrator, if I may be so bold as to advise you to leave any wrongdoing on the part of the Adeptus Mechanicus contingent to the... appropriate authorities. I intend to investigate the purported sabotage to the Gellar Field Generator myself, and submit a full report of my findings to the Magos Juris, and to your own august organization. It is possible that the modifications to the Gellar Field Generator caused the wounded and defiled machine spirit to behave in a way the attendant tech-priests did not expect, causing what they intended to be a simple transition out of the warp to become something much worse.
That being said, the lay-people who endeavoured to coerce them into harming a machine spirit should be punished in a manner agreeable to both wronged groups, the Adeptus Mechanicus and the Inquisition. As a Magos Biologis, I offer my services in an effort to ensure those you question survive long enough to receive a punishment fitting their crimes." Romulus finishes his speech with a slight bow of his head, his medical mechadendrite flexing, scalpel blade and needles catching the light.

[Tigger]

Both the Captain and the Quartermaster look dismayed and broken by this final assault on their selves. You can see that they will cooperate and give you the information you asked for.

Mustafa Al-Razid, the Rogue Trader, has been watching, listening and thinking during the proceedings of the Lat Court, the assassination attempt and the interrogation of the officers. Finally, he raises his hand and starts speaking: "While I admire your zeal for justice, I feel that, as long as we are stranded in the middle of nowhere, all this is well and good but we really should worry about how to get this ship going." He pauses and adds: "Also, someone did just try to kill the Captain and I am a bit afraid of what their next step is going to be now that that has failed."

At these words, Compton mutters: "Well, I don't know what their next step is going to be. It depends on what are the orders of the Commander in this situation. But I am afraid I know what the last resort will be. I mean, if the orders start by killing the Captain, they probably end by blowing up the ship."

[Tigger]

Meanwhile, on the north side of the chapel:

The old man, upon hearing Scab giving the name of his old regiment, opens his eyes wide open and asks: "The Brass Dragons? But, but, that's the regiment the Commander of the arsmen used to be an officer in..." A terrible thought seems to enter his mind at this point, and it's not long before he starts shouting: "You're not Imperial Guard! You were brought here by that filthy Mandrake! You're one of the Legacy's thugs! You're here to prevent us from accomplishing our sacred duty!"

At these words, the voidsmen start muttering between themselves and looking at Scab as if he had attacked the old man.

[Warmatt]

Looking at the man, Matthias was silent, gazing at them, and keeping his council, prepared to let the proper parties deal with the judgment's, though personally, he always felt that purification in fire was a valid enough treatment. Still, eyes watching, and at Zanna's ultimate threat, he chuckled, low and amused, eyes twinkling just a bit, leaning on his staff just a bit, as amused eyes stare into his, a faint smirk on his face, as if telling him that indeed, there was nowhere he could hide, no place safe, that one by one his secrets would be stripped bare and shown the light. Still, he made no statement, no threat or any other means besides the implication.

As the crowd gathers, shouting that one among them is seeking to prevent a holy duty, his eyes flicker there, and to Zanna, wondering just what to do, what to do...

[ArcturusV]

Scab stared with a dead expression at the man as he leveled a finger at him and waved it about in his shouting about something that didn't quite make sense. Why call his unit not actually Imperial Guard? Yeah he didn't like them either but they certainly were as far as he knew. And he was a part of them, technically. Sure he wouldn't mind seeing them die in a fire so he could go back home, but that was just him. Or at least so that he thought.

So he did something to calm the man down, and to give him time to figure it out. He lashed out with his foot, kicking hard at the Old Man to take some of the wind out of his sails.

"You're crazy. Make no sense."

And we got a boot to the... probably knee knowing how hit locationing works.

All Out Attack, Unarmed Strike, showing a measure of Restraint after all.

Attack: [roll0] vs 33 WS, +30 All Out Attack, possible +30 for Unaware because I doubt he expected to get kicked in the knee, so baseline 63/93.

Damage: [roll1] divided by 2, round up, -1 (2 SB, -3 for Unarmed Attack), Pen 0 Impact.

[dancrilis]

Lho

She noted the scene with Scab - it was possible to turn hostile, and she supposed that if it did she might have to interveen. Manoeuvring the rifle slightly to cover anyone sneaking up behind the guardsman she waited to see if she should intervene - the man could deal with regulars attacks himself, but something more subtle might require her intervention.

Isolated and alone picking him off could cause the crowd to bloodlust and that could not be allowed.

[Tigger]

In a way, being kicked by Scab was almost endearing to the old man: he had been kicked harder by his grandchildren, and he knew that retaliation, at his age, would be ridiculous. He could see the confusion in the eyes of the guardsman, and he knew that, had Scab been part of the armsmen, he would not have reacted that way. He would have taken out a shock weapon and blasted him to keep everyone in line. In fact, his temper had gotten the better of him, and he was relieved to have suffered so little for it

He turned towards the crowd behind him and shouted: "I'm all right folks. Let's not get excited." Then, looking at Scab, he said: "Maybe I made a mistake about you son, and if that is the case I am sorry. I take it you're not one of our jailors, aren't you?"

[ArcturusV]

Scab frowned slightly, and holstering his pistol, went and reached into one of his pockets. He was rummaging around for a moment before he found something that had been handed to him a long, long time ago. Or at least it seemed a long time ago to him. In actuality maybe only a few days or so. Pulling out a crumpled, slightly ragged looking sheet of paper that had some greasy finger stains on it he held it out to the old man. If the old man took it and flattened it out he'd see that it was a slip marking him as having passage on this vessel as a guest of the appropriate level of quarters that the Inquisitor had bought for him. He didn't actually KNOW what it said, just what he was told it said and that he had been instructed that if anyone questioned his presence on board he should show it to them.

"... at place with foul smelling goop people drink, when thing happened..." how do you really describe the terrors of the warp to a mind who wouldn't actually understand it. "Hid, kept mind. Put down the crazed. Fancy Hat General there too... acted really weird... but he give orders. Watch those civilians," he cocked his head towards the Captain and the gaggle around him, "Make sure they aren't stupid. Keep civilians safe."

He looked out towards the people near the northern door and leveled his glare at them, "They say they 'Ein-kwi-zi-shun'." He shrugged at that, as if to remark it was waaaaay above his pay grade, "If people run. All burn. You know how it is. Must be sure. Safest thing, stay tight. Be questioned. Have innocence confirmed."

He coughed heavily, his throat getting sore from all the talking. Taking back the slip of paper when he was done, crumpling it up and stuffing it back in his pocket he waited to see if things would continue nice and calm. His fingers twitched on the grip of his chainsword, and his eyes were busy, always moving, glancing between the old man, the crowd,and the people up at the dias, and back again. There was a definite tension in his body, and you could see minor ticks in him legs and arms that suggested he was still keyed up after the shooting, and ready for violence to break out once more.

[Tigger]

By now, the old man has recognized in Scab the signs of shell shock he has seen before on guardsmen that the Swift Condor evacuated out of blockaded planet. He takes the paper and reads it, his face becoming more puzzled by the second as he reads it and hears Scab's broken sentences.

"So you're a guest on board. Wait a minute. Ein-kwi-zi-shun? You mean Inquisition, right? Wait a minute. You're one of the agents of the Inquisition who are on board, like the ones standing in the choir."

His face shows his fear as he realizes he has just accused an inquisitorial acolyte of being a thug: "Please forgive me for my previous accusation, then. I for one is grateful you are here then, and I'll ask everyone to stay put if you think that's safer. Can I be of assistance in any other way?"

[ArcturusV]

Well this was... very, very strange. Scab didn't know what to think of this behavior. Oh, he had seen it before. Fancy Hat had inspired it a loooot of times that he had seen. It was just strange for it to be directed at him. Normally he stuck to the shadows, he lied, he hid, he used his talents to be obscured and strike in ways that few saw coming. He killed for the Fancy Hat, he followed people without them knowing, he stole, he lied...

... and now here was someone just bowing and scraping before him offering services.

... huh...

Scab frowned a bit as his mind tried to process this very unusual turn of events. Everyone else here seemed used to operating in this fashion, they announced themselves as such at once, and didn't hesitate when people spoke to them in this manner. What Would Fancy Hat Do?

"You tell them stay, be calm, listen to Sticker, pray to Lamp Man," he pointed with his chainsword over to Zanna who was after all processing people, and at "lamp man' pointed to the icons of the Emperor in the chapel, something he knew would help calm them, and prayer would identify if any of them were thralls of HERESY, as a Heretic couldn't stand to pray in such a manner. "You lead me to Command Tent," yeah he had no idea that it was called a 'bridge' on a ship. But he was gathering the gist of what was going on. The Captain under orders, soldiers under orders. That meant that, well, someone was giving orders. Orders that may or may not deserve Chainsaw to the Face. That was probably what Fancy Hat would do. "I follow. There trouble, you distract them. I handle it. When we get to Command Tent, point out Hat in Charge." That simple, at least to Scab. It was weird trying to act like Fancy Hat, and he was sure that he was inadequate at it. But it was the best he could do. Clearly the Captain wasn't the heart of whatever was going on. Nor was the Armsmen, or the random people in the Chapel. So find who was at the heart of it, then cut theirs out.

[Gospel Noctis]

"Who is the Commander?" Zanna asks, suspicion in her eyes. "Are you saying he's the one who ordered the hit on the captain? A silencing tactic if I'd ever seen one. As for blowing the ship up..." She calls over to the huddled group of mechanicus cultists. "Tech-Priest Romulus, a word if you will?"

[Caimheul]

"Of course ma'am." Romulus says with a slight inclination of his head before approaching Zanna. "How many this unit aid in this investigations of the inquisition?" he says quietly once he has approached to a distance where their voices are unlikely to carry too far.

[Tigger]

On the north side of the Chapel, the old ratling was trying to do his best to understand what Scab meant. The first part was pretty easy, and the idea of praying for help from the Emperor appealed to the voidsmen, who were starting to feel as if they had lost control upon their destiny. A deacon that is among them starts to lead them into the Fede Imperialis, and soon their voices are taking the confidence of the faithful.

As the words of the Battle Hymn of the Sororitas start to reverberate among the chapel, the ratling makes out part of the meaning of the second part of the orders of Scab. "The Command Tent? You mean the place where orders come from?" Scab nods at this, with the satisfaction of someone who is not accustomed to always being understood. "Well, that would be the bridge, I guess. I know the situation there is complicated, from what I've heard. I know that Childe's guys tried to hold it but they were thrown out with casualties by the armsmen. Mandrake is there now with what remains of the garrison, surrounded by our men. We could go there, but I think it's a stalemate for now."

In the choir, Taiko, still shaken from having been shot at twice in a few hours, looks at Zanna and says: "Well, the Commander is actually a former officer of the Guard. A man called Mandrake. He is in charge of the contingent of mercenaries on the ship. Corporate thought that, considering the peculiar nature of the crew, it would be better to have a few guns to keep them in line. The ratling you see up there was one of them, as is Compton. I don't see why the ratling would have shot me unless he was under orders to do so."

[Gospel Noctis]

"Romulus," The Arbiter acknowledges. "I would like to hear your opinion on the proper punishment to administer to this ships Mechanicus branch. While I know what punishment I would prefer, such things may not be received very favorably by the rest of your order. As such, I would like to leave this particular matter up to you. None would harshly judge the way one of the Mechanicus would sentence their own."

"There is also the matter of the safety of the ship itself. Compton here has expressed concerns about the possibility that the Commander of the ones trying to silence the captain here may, in desperation, attempt to destroy the ship itself in order to put a stop to our investigations. You would likely know know ships like these better than I, so I would ask your council on the matter. How might the Heretics hidden aboard this ship seek to damage or destroy it, and what steps would we need to take to prevent such a thing from coming to pass?"

She perked up at Taikos words, turning to regard the man with new found interest. "And where exactly may we find this Mandrake? I'd wager it would be best to put an end to this now before things spiral further out of control."

[Caimheul]

"It shall be done. Normally crimes of this nature are punishable by a loss in rank and removal of non-essential bionics. Should any of them be guilty of actual tech-heresy, then they shall atone for their crimes as a servitor." Romulus says as his mechadendrite clicks and clacks thoughtfully. "Given the nature of this particular vessel, I can think of many ways this vessel could be destroyed, particularly as the forces that would attempt it still has control of the vessel's bridge. Overloading the engine or reactor, venting the atmosphere from areas of the vessel not controlled by forces loyal to them, transition to the warp without proper coordinates or guidance from a Navigator, piloting the vessel into a sufficiently large planetary body, or, more crudely, setting off explosives scattered in key locations around the vessel. Taking the bridge will reduce their ability to destroy the vessel or simply kill all aboard, however the reactor, engines, both real-space and warp, and life support systems will additionally have to be secured."

[ArcturusV]

Scab merely patted the blunt side of his chainsword, the meaning clear as the old voidsman mentioned the stalemate. While it might be a stalemate with Armsmen likely armed with nothing more deadly than an Autogun or Shotgun and clubs... well... a Chainblade could make a big difference and cleave right through the typically lightly armed rabble that was Naval Armsmen.

"Lets go. Lamp Man rewards the bold," Scab said. He glanced over towards the people talking with the shotgunner and the Fancy Hats, shrugging as he figured they probably had their own orders from the Fancy Hat Lucan after all. Autopistol was mostly loaded, no need to swap magazines yet. He had his chain blade... and he had his natural 'talents'. And he was still pretty sure that Fancy Hat Lucan was probably lurking somewhere just out of sight and would step in if need be. Cowardice in the face of this minor threat would probably get him BLAM!ed.

Then again, no need to be foolish. Let the old man take point. Be dead sneaky, just like hunting Vat Rats. Hit them with a rock, or a Chainsword as the case may be, before they even know that he's there.

[Tigger]

Quartermaster Childe seems relieved that the interrogation has gone back to subjects that do not cause him to be called an heretic, and answers: "Mandrake and his men, when they understood that we were revolting against him, broke out of the barracks and took control of the bridge. They are barricaded in there and some of my men have secured the nearby corridors. But we cannot attack them head front without taking major losses. We had hoped they would negotiate with us, but seeing that they tried to kill the captain and have refused to talk with us, I fear a confrontation will be necessary."

On the north side of the chapel, the old voidsman looks at Scab, nods, and goes to the praying group behind him to inform them of their new mission.

[Gospel Noctis]

Nodding in understanding she turned again to Romulus. "Then again I need your council. Is there a way to infiltrate the bridge relatively undetected? Any rarely used entry points? While I have little doubt in our ability to breach the main entrance, I fear the time it would take might give them ample opportunity to employ their more desperate measures. Though a light frontal assault may prove to be a decent distraction for the infiltration team if it comes to that."

[Caimheul]

Romulus pauses for a second, eyes flickering back and forth as the various forceps on his mechadendrite click together before his eyes refocus. "I'll have to inquire, as I do not have any floor plans for this either this class of vessel, nor this particular vessel. The maintenance personnel would be familiar with any ducts or service passages that run near the bridge. I would imagine that any passage that leads directly into the bridge is at present guarded or otherwise secured. <Well, yes but I'd imagine we don't have enough explosives for that...Not to mention the time to effect proper repairs after engaging in that activity.> The only other potential ingress would be from the exterior of the vessel, but that would require extensive damage to the craft."

[Gospel Noctis]

"Then please make a few inquiries about any such entrances that the other members of the Mechanicus might know of." She requested, before turning back to Compton and the captain. "Now, as for Mandrake himself, what can you tell me of the man? Would you say that he is loyal to the Imperium? What motivates him, and why would he send an assassin after Taiko now instead of simply apprehending him officially?"

[Caimheul]

Romulus recognizes that he is being dismissed and bows his head slightly before returning to the ship's complement of tech-priests. <As heretical forces remain in control of the bridge, we fear the possibility that they will initiate some action that will lead to the complete annihilation of this vessel or, at the very least, deprive those forces loyal to the Omnissiah of life giving oxygen. Are any of you aware of service passages large enough for a armoured person to travel that either provide a hidden passage to the bridge or pass very close to one of the bridge's bulkheads?>

[Tigger]

Enginseer Karvin turns towards Romulus and answers: "Well, at this stage, my understanding from what Quartermaster Childe has told me is that the Commander and his men have not put the bridge into full lockdown mode, which would have meant all access to the bridge would have been blocked."

Quartermaster Childe, still reeling from his interrogation, adds: "They know we can't beat them with a frontal assault, so they have barricaded the main avenue of attack. There are a few other paths, but they would lead right in the middle of them and are so narrow that only one person may enter the bridge though them at a time, so the Commander seems pretty confident that he does not need to worry about those."

[Caimheul]

"Does anyone have an idea as to the number of individuals on the bridge? Additionally, are there pict casters located in such a way as to allow us to see their disposition?" Romulus trails off thinking as he waits for a response.