Freedom's Fall IC

[Malthan]

The demon appears in your dreams, just like it has done for every night in recent memory. Slack-jawed and grotesque, it reaches out with tendrils and claws, calling your name from a dozen mucus filled mouths.

You do not give in. You deny its attempts to corrupt your soul and conquer your mind, never granting it an ounce of your essence. But you allow it to guide you, to lead you into the dark depths of your own psyche. You see it rampage through past events, marching slowly over painful memories and dancing by proud triumphs, twisting sadness to comedy and victory into absurdity. For nothing has been won or lost. Yet.

Soon, all things will be decided. The skies blackened months ago. A legion descended, full of bolters and hate speech and freedom. That is one memory that the demon has no power over. The moment you saw for yourself the power of chaos. Angels marching in regimented lines, a black parade to end oppression and usher in tyranny. Drop pods descending into the dirt, a hellstorm of dark iron and explosive viscera, the great Ivory Tower burning till it was naught but the skeleton it is today.

But they had left their work unfinished. The master of the fleet, a distant and delirious oppressor was dead, slain in single combat by the Warlord Barabbas. As was Inquisitor Klarice, the only agent to ever come close to unveiling your true identity. But the Warden still lived. The Lord Commissar, the Arch Magos, the Inquisitor’s warband and successor, they all still drew breath and reined as kings behind the walls of the Fourth and Fifth Tier.

But things change. That is what the demon Phor’cha has taught you. Now all that remains of the Imperial forces are remnants, fanatics and veterans hiding behind walls and void shields. The hordes of chaos and a skeleton crew of chaos space marines hunger for entry, for the end of this struggle and a beginning for true warfare.

http://cyberpunk.asia/gallery/Pene_Menn_-_Sewer_2.jpg

It is not a gentle awakening. The smell of the sewer strikes you first. Then quite abruptly your eyelids snap open, broken from the demon’s trance. A leering face stares into you, eyes dark with unhealthy vigour and skin wrinkled by age but otherwise the possessed woman is hideous in a strictly traditional manner. But you know the truth. Beneath the skin, Phor’cha pulls at the veins and holds her bloody reins.

“Welcome, my flock.”

The demon speaks softly with its many invisible mouths, each syllable whispered with a different accent and at a discordant pitch. At first, you’d only seen the beast in dreams and mad drawings, small slips passed around the work camps and conscript barracks. Those caught in possession of such an image had been executed on sight, while those who had distributed the profane pictures had been burned alive not three days hence.

But in truth, you’d known the puppet long before the skies went black. Mistress Avluv, a mid-level bureaucrat and manager of the sluice sewage system for the 4th tier. For Kyou and Tchana, she had been your supervisor, your boss, your slaver. Now she was a puppet or possessed or something in-between. The demon Phor’cha inhabited her body and what was left of her could do nothing but scream. In the months prior to the invasion, she’d been turned. It was subtle and only detectable to those of a particular perception or psychically gifted could tell the difference. A twisted aura, pushing and repulsing in equal measure now leaked from her essence, while all other physical traits had been kept consistent with the original woman. Her possession, voluntary or not, was now complete.

“We have much work to do.”

The surrounding sewers smell rotten but the creature invokes a completely different sensation to simple revulsion. There’s a sour, charred sensation that reeks of boiled flesh and a million exotic spices that you’d never heard of, let alone tasted.

But the sewers alone were safe for the insidious advanced forces of chaos. That was why you permitted the demon to lure you here every night, it’s guidance leading you through the guard posts and towers, evading every sentinel and trap in order to come here, to this rotten heart of chaos. For above ground, away from the insidious and protective influence of Phor’Cha and the other cult masters, the guard stand vigilant with turrets and encampments too powerful to overwhelm with brute force.

Still, you know that this cell is but one amongst many, a veritable network of heresy. Even here, you stand amongst dozens of hooded cultists, their identity and features kept hidden even from you. Each of you has a codename, a monster from ancient spacefaring mythology.

Agent Scylla - Tchana
Agent Medusa - Kyou
Agent Hecate - Mac Beth

More blatant are the occasional outbreaks of violence, as chaos warriors burst from the sky or the ground, circumventing the walls with teleportation or cunning. They come in blazes of short lived carnage, frequently equipped with explosives to offer their own lives for the cause should their blades prove insufficient.

Yet it is not enough. The prisoners still lie trapped in their cell thanks to the technical supremacy of the Archmagos and her machines. Sinister and prestigious as they are, the other cells flounder and fail to corrupt, and each day more of your allies are brought before the false courts of the Commissariat to be burnt, beaten and given the Emperor's final mercy. It is a small victory that so often these accusations are amiss, the falsely accused granted no more leniency than the bloodiest traitor.

Yet still, things change.

“Behold: a gift from the dark gods…”

Gesturing slowly, you see the Phor'cha's gnarly hand swing to its left, the frail body rotating around arthritically until the prize is revealed:

A young hero, bearing the robes and symbols of the dread inquisition, lies strapped to a torture throne.

[Hemnon]

Tchana was lightly clinging to her sister, some would call it clinging inappropriately. She was giggling crazily and cooed like she was excited enough to bounce around like a hyperactive caffeine-addict. "Sister...! i wanna cut him! can i cut him? please...??" she begged Kyou.

[Dekana]

Kyou laughs openly when she sees who the demon has chosen to possess. It's a better fate for Mistress Avluv than anything she could have come up with.

Kyou - or Agent Medusa as she is known in this group - makes no effort to shake off Tchana. She tilts her head to her sister and says cheerfully, "Of course; he's a gift after all! Just don't break him too quickly, 'kay? I want to have fun too..." Kyou has less of a violent streak than her sister, and the thought of carving up the young hero isn't particularly appealing to her (as Tchana would know well). She'd much see what's rolling around in his mind - especially since he seems to be with the Inquisition.

What kind of state is the young hero in? Is he awake, blindfolded, gagged, etc?

Was the demon speaking to all of the cultists together, or just the 3 PCs? As in, is the entire cell about to descend upon this poor fool at the same time?

[Malthan]

On closer inspection, you see that the young man is blindfolded but not gagged. Bruises of recent combat mark his features and a nasty bullet wound lies just above the knee cap, all signs of his forced abduction.

"Ah my eager followers, such bloody appetites you have. Come you three, come inspect this prize specimen. See the epitome of mortal folly."

The frail form moved slowly, relying on a cane to carry the weight of two souls. It leads you to the torture throne, where the acolyte remains very still, a mark of his discipline and training. He breathes slowly, possibly in a meditative trance to keep himself distracted from the terrible reality that he is in. Slowly mumbling, he repeats some Gothic mantra that is barely audible but the mention of the god-emperor makes Phor'cha hiss in disdain. Her or his or its mood changes quickly however and it chuckles mirthlessly.

"Be still, most noble of crusaders. He cannot hear you now."

The other cultists stand silently as guards, knowing that you three are among the most favoured of this cell. Perhaps the only member with greater respect already stands waiting next to the Acolyte. His mask is a twisted ghoul full of sombre and bestial fury. Agent Grendel, a murderer and assassin is the enforcer and chief lieutenant of this operation. He speaks slowly, with a reserved hatred that you know that he struggles to repress. He has no love for his rivals.

"We captured this fool a few hours ago. Our spies in the docks tell us that he's been inspecting some new shipment from the Fifth Zone. A package from the Vault."

Grendel's voice darkens at the mention of the Vault and whispers spread throughout the chamber. The other cultists are cowardly and easily frightened, and you know the dark reputation of the Fifth Zone still carries weight amongst the followers of chaos. Phor'cha silences the dissent with a gargled cough.

"Our attempts to discover the nature of this shipment have been fruitless. Til now. Of course, we have yet to get this one to say anything useful. I thought you three might be able to help with that?"

As the daemon spoke, it slapped a wrinkled claw on the Acolyte's shoulder, clearly with more force than the mortal form should be capable of. The Acolyte shuddered, squirming slightly and giving out a panicked gasp. Then a smile spread across his face and he lets out a hateful laugh.

"You're all going to burn, heretics..."

[Hemnon]

Tchana giggles some more, the sound was seductively sweet and dangerously toxic to the ears. She slowly closed in on the Acolyte, running a finely filed-down fingernail. She slowly and sensually pulled out her revolver, running the barrel of it over the Emperor-loving fool's collarbone before suddenly shoving the barrel into his mouth, a gleeful smile of insanity was on her lips as one delicate finger played with the trigger while she listened to the gurgling from the Man who had a gun pressed against the inside of his mouth. With a suckling of her lower lip in an ecstatic expression... she bulled the trigger. And the hammer just clicked impotently. The gun clearly had at least one empty chamber.
Depending on what reaction she got from both the others and the lonely little Acolyte himself.

But no matter what, she climbed up on him, straddling his waist, gun still jammed into down his throat, figuratively speaking of course.
She was positively SCARY to look at, doing her thing. If one was just a tiny bit squeamish, they would look away for at least a second~

Right now Tchana was wondering if she should try and fiddle with his mind a bit... giving someone hope for a whie and then sudden pulling the proverbial rug away from underneath them was always so satisfying.... maybe she should do that together with her sister instead~

"I miss my carving knife~" She said, still girlishly sweet, tinged slightly by that same insanity that one could ALMOST see when one were to stare deeply enough into her pretty eyes.

[Malthan]

The whole room goes silent as you draw your gun and pull the trigger. Some of the cultists avert their eyes while others stare with baited breath, hungry for potential violence but at the same time concerned by your course of action.

A sigh of collective relief spreads as the empty click registers. If you had killed the man, not only would the mission be in jeopardy but so would your life. Daemons do not take well to others ruining their playthings.

As it stands, Phor'cha simply smiles at the spectacle, the puppet's lips twisting an unnatural grin that threatens to split open her features into the acid filled maw you know the daemon possesses.

Perhaps the only ones not impressed are the two men most adjacent to Tchana. As you mount the man, Grendel shakes his head grimly, turning his back and muttering something about "Ruining violence for him". Meanwhile, the surrounding cultists whoop and cheer, clearly reveling in the sadistic display.

Yet by comparison the acolyte lies deathly still, suppressing his fear as best he can. While still blindfolded you can tell that you made him sweat. His heart had raced at the telltale touch of your gun, the fear of mortal suffering still ever present on his mind. And there might even have been the slight groan of relief once the gun clicked empty.

But now, slowly he reasserts his control. His mouth moves over the barrel and he bares his teeth in a sign of defiance.

[TheAnnoyingNoob]

Brina rolled her eyes as the sisters went after the adept. If it weren't for the fact Phor had put them here with Grendel and her she would have assumed they were the usual psychotic rabble. Despite her distaste, an imperceptible shiver ran down her spine, hidden largely thanks to her armor. The two could probably pry what they all wanted out of him, but if they did he would be useless to the cult. And when they ran into 'useless' Inquisitorial assets, those assets usually didn't last long.

These lunatics gave her the creeps. And besides, if the Imperium managed to turn the tables it would be best to have someone on the inside that could get her to safety. And maybe a nice apartment uphive, where you could actually see the sun. Moving to stand by Phor, she leaned in to whisper in its ear...

What are the chances I could have some time "alone" with him? I realize I probably can't stop you from listening in, I just need the others to be incapable of interfering.

[Malthan]

Amidst the jeering, Brina's voice is listened to intently by the cult master. Phor'cha raises an eyebrow and gives you a nod. Rising to her surprisingly tall full height, it claps together Avluv's frail hands.

"Restrain yourselves, dear sisters. We need the fool to talk, and I imagine it is hard to do so with a gun in his throat."

Grendel reluctantly offers Tchana a hand down from the torture throne, his grip only slightly more forceful than necessary to detain her. The brutish heretic may despise the sisters and all psychic kind but he at least has the sense to maintain proper decorum in front of his dread master. At a gesture, the demon summons two faceless goons to stand watch by Tchana and Kyou, preventing them from interfering, as Mac Beth requested. They are allowed to stay however, as are the many cultists waiting for their orders.

"You may have your turn, but not your privacy."

Phor'cha hissed and smiled with too many teeth and then raised her voice so that all may hear.

"Let no one forget. I am the only god that you need fear in this pit. The light of the emperor cannot reach these pipes, the authority of Abaddon does not extend to our tunnels and all the armies on this accursed planet cannot breach my walls of filth!"

A roar of approval spreads amongst the crowd, clearly hanging to the creature as an embodiment of the dark powers incarnate. The creature smiles coldly at their gratification but does not seem to revel in it. Eventually the sycophantic rancour dies down to a single hoarse chuckle.

"All hail the lord of cesspits and sewers. Look at yourselves! Cowering in the dark, you spineless cowards, oh Throne your kind make me lau-"

The acolyte was brutally interrupted by a harsh blow from Grendel. Turning to Brina, the possessed gestured to the torture throne.

"You have the floor."

[Hemnon]

Tchana Bared her teeth when she felt Grendel touch her, the psychic turmoil in her eyes actually visible to the naked eye: Coiling mutantsnakes and gibbering spawn of the warp could JUST be gazed at the edges of what some might call 'the soul'.

It was very clear that, if Grendel didn't remove that hand, she'd most likely end up killing him in some highly painful and messy way.

"HANDS OFF! Don't touch me with those filthy hands!!!" She hissed as she was 'half-pulled, half-guided' down from the Acolyte, the barrel of her gun half-way getting wrenched free from the mouth it's been jammed down into, rather than just slip out cleanly.

[TheAnnoyingNoob]

Giving Phor an appreciative nod, she filed his boast away in the back of her mind. Maybe it would come in useful later... Making her way around Grendel and the Scylla, she warned Blind folds coming off, so if you want to be absolutely sure he won't ID you, turn around now. As she removed the implement in question, she also removed her own helmet, quickly retreating back to the bottom of the steps where she took a seat, stretching out and leaning back on her elbows before facing Grendel.

Grendel, I realize you hate them but if she explodes at this point I'm blaming all our deaths squarely on you.

Turning her attention back to the throne, she smiled up at the acolyte. Here goes nothing...

Hello, My names Brina. Brina Mac Beth. What's your name?

[Malthan]

Grendel growls, his impassively hateful mask barely muffling the noise. It was too authentic for a mere man, though you shudder to think what mutated form he actually possesses. Nevertheless he begrudgingly releases his grip on Tchana, though lewd comments and kissing noises are whispered by his supporters. As he backed off he reasserted his authority by picking on the weakest person present.

"You best answer the lady, corpse-slave. We don't have all night."

Gulping for air and blinking, the acolyte took a second to collect himself. He was vaguely handsome, in the traditionally heroic fashion. At least he would be, if the blotched bruises across his skin weren't quite so fresh. The blow from Grendel had clearly left a lasting impact. Murmuring softly, he speaks with a deliberate slowness

"I am the envoy of his will, the bringer of his light, the matyr for his cause..."

Jeers and abuse are hurled from the surrounding cultists, their insults drowning him out until quite suddenly the man practically roars in righteous anger. His eyes bulge as he stares at you, muscles struggling against his restraints and fury causing spittle to fly from his mouth.

"I am Zacharias, bane of the black legion, hunter of heretics, destroyer of demons! I am the wrath of the sun and the bringer of death! And I know your name Brina! I know your name, you heretic scum, there is no escape... Don't you understand.... you're all going to burn..."

The room goes deathly quiet, all eyes fixed on Brina for her response.

[TheAnnoyingNoob]

Brina was about to tell Grendel off when Zacharias' outburst stunned the room and, she had to admit, to a lesser degree herself. Oh... Lets hope all of the fire and faith is hot air, or at least that he'll be pragmatic enough to take the deal. And that the others play along...

Letting her hair down Brina continued to smile at him. I'll give you that, Zacharias- may I call you Zach? Whether we're doused in blessed promethium or sucked into the Warp, most of us are going to burn. I have a feeling though, that the both of us would be much more useful to the Inquisition, the war effort, and eventually Him on Terra, if we were alive. She paused a moment to let the thought sink in and any complaints from the assembled die down.

You see, a dead acolyte can't uncover heretical plots, and right now I think I'm the only one in this sewer who isn't all for letting the boss, she jerked her thumb towards Phor, possess you and do as he will. Why may you ask? And how can I save you from a daemon? Brina's smile widened into a grin as she regained her confidence. He had to go for it. As I see it, all the boss wants from you is for you to tell us what was in these boxes. So I want you to act like a bona fide Inquisitor and make a short term sacrifice, that is, giving us intel, for a long term gain, that is, the life and skill set of an Inquisitorial acolyte. In return, I will request that my boss consider you to be spoils of war, to be handed over to my care, from which you will be free to plot your escape, assuming of course you listen to any not-so-heretical tasks I may ask you to accomplish. She stopped again, both to catch her breath and for dramatic affect, And of course, should one of your fellow acolytes pull the rug out from under us before then, I would appreciate it if you strapped one of those bomb collars to my neck and sent me out to die in His name in a penal legion, rather than kill me here. So, what do you say Inquisitor Zacharias. With your mistresses death, the situation is in your hands. I'm not here to tear the Imperium down, I'm here to live, and I'll go wherever my best shot is.

[Malthan]

For a while, the room is quiet except for the man's harsh breathing. He at least seems to consider your offer, briefly.

"Brina. You talk like a soldier, with your intel and short term and long term plans. I was a soldier once. Honour, duty, respect.

He spat each word out, blood tainting the liquid so that it dribbled down his chin like a stream of coagulated waste.

"What made you turn your back on all of it? What did they offer you to make you sell out like a common whore?"

The room reacted with predictable anger, though this time it is lower and more guttural so that you can still hear him speak.

"You are, all of you, monsters! But you Brina, you're lower than all of them put together. You are a naive child, too foolish to be worthy of anything but contempt. Have you seen what these bastards do? You just want to live? Throne, you'll be lucky to last longer than a week. They eat their young. They kill for no reason but because it amuses them. Their entire existence is predicated on pain and suffering and you joined them because you wanted to live?"

And on cue, the room erupts as he rages and much of his vitriol is drowned out by competing voices. Only after a full minute does the room drop to an acceptable level of noise for him to finish addressing you.

"You talk to me of reason and rationality. How can you claim to be on the side of sanity, when you dirty your soul with the presence of daemons? You cannot tempt me, heretics. Yours is the way of despair and weakness and corruption. Perhaps you cannot see it yet, but you have started on a road that leads to nothing but misery..."

Phor'cha sighs and shakes its head. The creature hobbles over to the twins, moving with an unnerving speed, her movements an exaggerated parody of life.

"Perhaps a call for moderation is in order. Kyou, you have a way with people. Your skills might be best suited to making him talk."

[Dekana]

Kyou rushes forward to catch Tchana as she violently stumbles out of Grendel's arms. "Brute!" she hisses at him. She looks to Tchana and then strokes her hair reassuringly.

He didn't hurt you, did he? Don't worry, we'll return the favor later. The demon can't watch us everywhere. Kyou speaks without speaking, the words simply materializing in Tchana's head. It is a common belief that twins can sometimes know what each other is thinking, but in Kyou and Tchana's case, it is the literal truth.

Kyou worries about the freakish creature that has gained Phor'cha's favor, but that will have to wait until later. For now, there is the "bane of the black legion" to attend to. She listens quietly as he insults Brina, smirking at his feeble threats.


Phor'cha sighs and shakes its head. The creature hobbles over to the twins, moving with an unnerving speed, her movements an exaggerated parody of life.

"Perhaps a call for moderation is in order. Kyou, you have a way with people. Your skills might be best suited to making him talk."

Kyou glances at Mistress Avluv - Phor'cha - smiles, and then walks slowly to the prisoner's side. She bends over so she can be easily seen, her face one of sympthy.

"Hello there, Zacharius. I'm Kyou."

She is a beauty to be sure, and there is something about her that Zacharias finds implicitly trustworthy, but it is hard to pinpoint exactly what that is. In truth, Kyou's psychic abilities are directly responsible, her witchery clouding his mind.

"Don't worry, I'm not a baby eater. I've never even heard of anyone doing that. You seem to have been told some pretty outrageous lies about us." Kyou straightens herself, turns away from Zacharias, and then sits on the armrest of the throne, getting uncomfortably (for him) close in the process. She motions to the assembled cultists.

"Everyone here is a freedom fighter. We've been oppressed all our lives by the warden and his lackeys, and yes, by the Imperium. It's only natural for us to fight back. You speak like we're monsters obsessed with pain. We kill our enemies, it's true. but can you say any different of the Imperium?" She now turns her head and leans in close to the prisoner's head. "I hate seeing you get hurt like this. Don't you want to get out of that chair? I can help."

Charm [roll0] vs TN 63. (Fel 48 + 15 delude) Plus or minus any modifiers for difficulty and the daemon's aura, of course.

Kyou is telling some lies here, but I think Charm is the appropriate skill since she is trying to improve Zacharias's attitude toward her. However, Kyou is trained in Deceive at the same TN if you want to use that instead (though Zacharias's own modifiers could be different).

If this succeeds, I'll try another (hopefully easier) Charm test to get him to spill his guts on the shipment.

[Hemnon]

Tchana clung tightly to hersister, looking all frail and innocent, lower lip quivering. She returned her Sister's Telepathy In Kind: "Yeah he did, he was manhandling me so badly.... i wanna cut off his head. Can we please strip the skin from his flesh?" Her eyes were túrned up at her sister needily, once in a while throwing a glare of hateful death towards Grendel.

[Malthan]

As your warp-presence enters his mind, his eyes visibly fix onto you, clearly caught in your trance. That is not to say he does not resist however. As you speak he appears to echo some of your words, though whether this is voluntary not does not become immediately clear.

"Outrageous lies...freedom... Imperium...monsters... pain...hurt ... out! Get out of my head!"

He thrashes against his restraints, but then begins to weaken, his throes less violent and more desperate. Two cultists move up to secure his restraints and to stop him from banging his head against the metal support slab that props up his head.

"I need help. Emperor! Show me mercy Emperor, please for the love of the Throne! Have I not ever been your most humble servant... give me your final mercy Emperor... take me from this place..."

It appears that your interference with his mind has somehow sparked his own emotions, and as usual it appears his greatest trust and love is for his pathetic false emperor. Perhaps you can now play on this connection, to utterly delude the acolyte into some twisted illusion.

[Dekana]

The Emperor, the Emperor - always with the Emperor. It was so easy for the other workers to escape into the fantasy of worship whenever life became too hard for them to endure. What had the Emperor ever done for her? Well, maybe now is the chance for Him to be of some use.

"Can you hear Him on the Golden Throne, Zacharias? Listen closely. What does he tell you now?"

The young psyker focuses her will onto the prisoner once more, trying to "help" him listen.

I'm not sure if Thought Sending can be used in this way, but I'd like to send Zacharias a vision of the emperor. "At Psy Rating 3-4, the psyker can send and receive visual communication as well, though these are only in black and white, and will often have a dreamlike quality or otherwise be somewhat indistinct." Maybe he's in a distorted enough state of mind to buy it. (If you rule that the visual communication has to be of Kyou, then I'll try to send just the verbal message instead and disguise my psychic "voice." Either way, I think a Deceive test is in order.

The message is: "You have done well, my faithful servant. You have earned your rest. You may tell Kyou about the shipment - your pain will end when you do."

Deceive [roll0] vs TN 63. (48 Fel + 15 delude)

[Malthan]

The acolyte blinks rapidly and blood starts to trickle from his nose.

"I hear ... oh Throne ... His light, it reaches me still..."

You feel him shudder and tremble, his mind inadvertently shying away from the vision of his false god, unwilling but unable to do anything but bask in its false radiance. It's clear that he for some reason does not think himself worthy of such a direct audience with this false idol.

"The shipment. I brought it in for you my Emperor. Weapons of shadow and flame. She has the gift! They will burn, I promise you Emperor. All of them..."

The cultists begin to whisper among themselves, though it is Phor'cha who reacts the most violently. The creature shuffles energetically towards the throne, her beady eyes bulging at their sockets.

"A weapon? What weapon? Tell me you cur!"

With clammy hands, the mistress seizes the Acolyte, who visibly begins to wither at her touch. Gasping and screaming, his thoughts of pure undiluted agony are shared with Tchana. At last he manages to shout out

"Not a weapon, daemon. Weapons. Burn..."

And then he collapses, panting and coughing, on the edge of violence. The daemon releases its grip, wiping its hands together as if disgusted by touching a mortal.

[Hemnon]

Tchana slinked on out from her embrace of her sister, slowly approaching the prone and collapsed Acolyte, gently cupping his face with her hands, a curious and gentle glow in her eyes. She looked like she'd totally lost interest in everyone else, but her playtoy (the Acolyte), and of course her sister~
She didn't care for the other cultist, or even the Daemon-in-human-flesh. they were boring and uninteresting.

"You still alive little ladybug? did Miss Evil break your wings~?" She cooed questioningly at the Acolyte, wondering if he was still lucid or if his soul had departed for the warp.

[Malthan]

The acolyte can only groan in response, his respiration have grown increasingly raggard during the process.

"Prepare him for Excruciation."

Phor'cha growls, its command followed by a collective cheer. You have seen this procedure before, a practice taken from some of the most dread Traitor legions. It involves flaying, power drill and a variety of stimulants intended to utterly break even the most fanatical followers. It usually lasts several days, at the least.

"Don't worry princess. If he's still alive, he'll soon wish he wasn't" Grendel growled, looming over Tchana and the acolyte. "You loosened him up. We'll take it from here." He chided, preparing a selection of needles for use on the acolyte.

Shadowy figures move up to join him, some clutching power tools and others an array of crude torture devices.

"Please ... Emperor... Brina..."

The mortal acolyte begs weakly.

[Hemnon]

Tchana stood back up, returned to her sister's half-embrace, clapping her own hands with a giddy attitude. "Yes, yes! the little Toy Soldier's gonna break, the little toy soldier's gonna break~" she voiced out in a simplified tune, giggling and hugging herself close to Kyou, nuzzling a cheek against her sister's collarbone.

[TheAnnoyingNoob]

Brina grimaced as Zacharias ranted. Despite, or perhaps because of the source of the words, they stung. The Imperium had never done anything for her. It had rounded up her and her clan, motivated them to fight with lies, and repeatedly decided to beat her down for the crime of trying to survive. She owed it nothing, yet when he voiced her 'sins', they felt real. She was about to counter the charges when Phor let Medusa step forward.

As the other woman bent his will to her own, she felt her guts flip over and bile rise in the back of her throat. She had no issue with psykers, and would have had no issue with what she was doing now but... it felt needlessly cruel now. Just as Zacharias had described them.

Brina only rose from where she sat when Zacharias called for her. Readying her medi-kit she knelt next to the man and set about cleaning him up. Keeping her head bowed in what she hoped would be interpreted as a sign of subservience, she beckoned Phor to her side. She doubted it, but maybe she could still get what she wanted...

[Malthan]

Phor'cha watched with some amusement as Brina took to cleaning Zacharias up, interpreting it as a sign of her eagerness to prepare the acolyte for the brutal interrogation.

This interpretation was aided by the small miststeps in your suturing, which appeared to cause some pain. One of Grendel's men even gave you a needle full of some drug to prepare the acolyte for the Excrutiation, which you were asked to administer with some consternation.

"It is good to see you put your skills to use, my tall lady Hecate. If we are to get a look at these weapons that the corpse-worshipper mentioned, then we will need to exploit your authority with the guard."

Phor'cha mused as she closed in on you, her vile breath signalling the creatures unusual internal biology.

[TheAnnoyingNoob]

Taking the syringe and idly toying with it, Brina cleared her throat and spoke to Phor, her voice lowered. Phor'cha, I would still like to make that request. On a purely personal basis, she ran a finger along Zacharia's jawline, clearly bothered by her requests reliance on the daemon, I think I've grown rather fond of the man. He's handsome and, unlike the rest of the cell, someone I feel I could... spend some time with, in a lonely place like this. Straightening somewhat and looking up at the daemon's host body, she continued, And from a group standpoint, I feel he's more useful to us alive than the Inquisition. If he's willing to ask for me so soon after zealously denouncing me, I may yet be able to turn him to our side. He's an agent of the Inquisition, and he should have all the authority that entails. I'm sure the havoc you could wreak and those you could lure here with him would be far more entertaining than this death sentence of his...

And if not, I have another offer to make with him.

[Malthan]

The demon pondered your words, though it was not immediately clear what the creature was doing. It had not truly mastered human expression and instead, occasionally substituted things like smiles, frowns or the like for literally moving the organ in the opposite direction. This is what it did now, the mouth literally twisting and turning to move from smirk to sadness in a few repulsive actions.

"Ah Hecate, your concern is most amusing. Perhaps a compromise can be made. He will satisfy your curiosity, after he has satisfied ours."

It picked up a pair of prongs, cracking them together to demonstrate it's desire. The others had already begun to adorn aprons and other lewd devices.

"There is a war effort to think of."

The creature put down the prongs, as if acquiesing.

"Perhaps we will be more ... observant of his health than we might have been otherwise. But I must have my data my dear. This operation depends on it. I can feel it. Besides, I have heard rumour that Grendel finds your stock most agreeable."

It expression remained inscrutable but the creature did have a sense of humour. Then again, the brute might have senses of its own.

"So we are agreed? I will have my fun first, and after an hour you may have yours. That way-"

"Brina... kill me..."

The acolyte whispered, his eyes dim but still full of determination.

[TheAnnoyingNoob]

Brina let out a heavy sigh, running her hand through Zacharias' hair. I'd love to, but I really can't right now, The Boss would probably find something even worse to do to me. Packing her medi-kit away, she leaned in and kissed Zacharias on the cheek. You just keep that determined look in your eyes and you'll pull through.

Standing and moving away, she addressed Phor, And please, keep him physically and mentally intact.

[Malthan]

You are allowed to watch for the first half-hour, since it consists purely of horror. Excrutiation is after all, designed for those who are too stubborn or too indoctrinated to given in to more crude or base methods.

Interface nodes are first implanted along the target's spinal chord, a process which itself is a grisly affair. Power drills cut through into nerve clusters, brutally gliding through flesh and viscera to reach their intended targets. Then the wires, nodes and agony sensors are implanted slowly, all filtered and weaved among bones with an artisan's attention to detail. Entire organs are ensnared as well, barbed micro filaments lodging themselves with tiny serrated pricks to cause constant suffering.

Phor'cha grins at Brina, dangling some excess implants that she chooses not to forcibly insert elsewhere. A reduced payload in the strictest sense, though even small mercies might be considered more than a daemon is usually inclined to give.

"I am his envoy, his will unbroken, his message inviolate..."

Zacharias repeats this mantra through grunts and half-screams. It was only once he was fully prepared that the procedure began in earnest. Then there was no opportunity given for Zacharias to talk, only to scream.

Electric currents, designed to reroute nerve senses and effectively change ones perception of pain, were sent coursing along his neural pathways. This was the secret to many Traitor legion successes, a piece of knowledge gratefully passed on to Phor'cha and his brood. Accelerators and adrenaline are pulsed into veins, enhancing the sensation even further, to the point of total insanity. Many have gone mad in this torture throne.

At the halfway point, you are ushered out while Phor'cha begins to question him again, starting with basic true or false questions. You know that soon enough it will be hungering for the details on the weapon shipments and whatever else it can learn through brutality.

Grendel leads you and the rest of the cultists into one of the large ancillary pipelines, where you line up along the concrete sidewalk to prevent yourselves from becoming drenched in sewage. The daemon often deliberately interviews its inmates in an intimate manner, partially for effect and partially so that it might have a monopoly on information. Some tasks require suicide missions after all, and so some things are best kept secret.

You can still hear the screaming, echoing through the pipeline. This lasts another half-hour.

Eventually, Mistress Avluv's body comes crawling out of the room, moving in a feral prowl. Without others watching, it seems that the Daemon reverted to its natural preference for moving on all fours. It turns slowly and nods its head towards Brina, implying that she is free to have her solitary interview with what remains of Zacharias.

"The rest of you, we have a target. Tell me, how many of you have seen a white phosphorus detonation?"

[TheAnnoyingNoob]

Nodding in return, Brina stepped out and retraced her steps to where Zacharias had been left. Again kneeling by him, she set her medi-kit down beside the pair. Forgoing any stitching this time around, she simply did her best to clean the wounds and prevent infection from setting in with as little pain as she could manage. After several minutes of silence she asked, So, can you speak Zach? Can you still move?

[Malthan]

The chamber is strikingly cold when you enter, the bitter smell of smoldering and blood making you gag. There has been more than mere mortal interrogation techniques at work. It is likely that Phor'cha has performed some ritual or secret surgery on the shivering acolyte you see before you.

"N-n-n-o more. Nothing more to s-s-s-say."

He wheezes from split lips, the words leaving as vapour in the ice cold chamber. Little external body marks are clear, other than the points of intrusion on back. You guess that he might be able to move with some effort, though it was likely to cause additional pain. His body is extremely sensitive in this state, with the operation deliberately exacerbating and enhancing all sensations. Interfering with the torture throne or his physical body him might send him into renewed fits of agony.

[Dekana]

"Never," Kyou answers. "It doesn't sound pleasant."

She then coos to her sister, "It must be something you'd love."

[Malthan]

"It's not. Flesh sloughs from the body. Lungs collapse from the pressure. People die screaming. And then anything that's not an astartes chokes on their ashes."

Phor'cha smiled morbidly, running Avluv's clammy hands together.

"And what's lying in that Cathedral is capable of so much more than that. The Imperium has a doomsday weapon. A promethium cluster bomb, capable of igniting the entire Third sector. They're planning to set it off once that ring falls in its entirety to chaos."

The cultists listening let out a collective hiss of rage and fear, the potential of being cut off from the invading chaos force a very real concern to everyone here. The cult might not name itself as strictly followers of the Black Legion but they are reliant on their slaves for now.

"So we break in and set it off. The threat's removed and that infernal cathedral burns to the ground. Everybody wins, except the slaves to the false emperor."

Consenting voices add to the din, some laughing and others beating their chest in approval. The more ape-like you suspect are aligned with Grendel, their animalistic fervour serving the cult well but of dubious use to you.

"You're on the right track my monsters. That would certainly be the most sure fire tactic. I can pull some strings, using this mortal form's authority. A few of you manual workers can be put in the right shifts at the right time to throw a spanner in the works. Those of you in the guard can also be granted access to the cathedral. where security and surveillance of the edifice is maintained. But you're not thinking big enough."

It grinned and took out some strange crystal that glowed with an eerie light.

"This is the promethium of my people. Warpstone. A contaminant, a catalyst, a piece of radioactive slag, call it what you will. Spread this in dust or liquid form over the cluster bomb and that fire will become something entirely more beautiful. It will truly be holy. The fires will become the warp incarnate, tainting everything it touches."

This is met with applause, some declaring the genius of the plan. Notably, Grendel remains rigid and immobile.

"Agents Medusa and Scylla. I feel like your special gifts might be the key to accessing the device. It is after all zealously guarded - but with your gifts, authorization and some high ranking Imperial fool's favour might be easily ascertained. I even have a name. Supervisor Vandros, a lecherous cur turned fanatic, a priest who oversees the cathedral's maintenance. He could be exploited and used to reach the weapon."

[TheAnnoyingNoob]

Finishing her work quick enough, Brina briefly thought about moving him but quickly discarded the idea. She didn't know much about the throne he was hooked up to but it looked to her like she would end up doing more harm than good if she tried anything. Patting him lightly on the shoulder, she packed up and left, retracing her steps once again. You just hang in there Zach...

[Malthan]

You rejoin the congregation, where a cultist sees you and fills you in briefly. He underlines the threat and how both Grendel and Phor'cha suggest to remove it. Your role in dealing with security risks and abusing your position in the guard is also brought up briefly, making clear that you would have to find a way to either distract the Cathedral security or remove them more permanently.

[Dekana]

Kyou gasps along with the other cultists when she first hears about the cluster bomb. She is far from fearless, and the threat of a doomsday bomb is enough to frighten even her.

"Those idiots! Don't they know they've already lost this war?"

She listens to the rest of Phor'cha's explanation before speaking again. "And I wanted to keep playing with the workers for awhile," she pouts only half-sarcastically. "Looks like we've no choice though it's either them or us. Just let me say this: I don't plan on blowing myself up with that cathedral. The dark gods can't have me that quickly!"

[Hemnon]

Tchana patted Kyou on the head. "Oh relax sister, if we fail, we just die very fast~ But maybe we should get our rear in gear, dear sis? THe longer we wait, the less time we have to do our job. So shall we?" Tchana said, sounding a lot more, well, stable and 'sane'.

[Malthan]

"A delayed detonation could certainly be used to set off those bombs..."

Grendel said flatly, his arms crossed. Phor'cha chuckled at the collective concerns,

"Mmm of course none here should consider themselves anything less than instrumental to the cause of chaos. But consider this ... perhaps it might be best to allow the Imperium to set off this device."

This was met with silence, unsure cultists exchanging glances of fear and ignorance.

"Master, it is one thing to taint their device. Another to let the Imperium deploy it as they see fit. Even if we must defile the weapon rather than simply detonate it, why wouldn't we destroy the damn thing?"

Grendel had grown bold, perhaps too much. Phor'cha reared to its full height, Avluv's spine twisting and snapping as it rose. Avluv had always been of a decent height but here she was much too tall, looming over the muscled cultist.

"Because, favoured son of blood, this..."

It took hold of Grendel and dragged him closer, effortlessly overpowering him until his mask was inches away from the Warpstone crystal. The plastic begin to twist and melt, Grendel grunting in exasperation.

"Is a blessing. Should it be applied to the clusterbomb, the fires will belong to the warp. They will spread across the Third Sector beyond our walls and not only corrupt and kill the remaining Imperials in that sector, but it will also bless the faithful it finds. The fires of Tzeentch will create a tidal wave of mutants, of chaos spawn, of powerful and unrelenting fiends worthy of storming not only the Third ring but our own Fourth ring as well!"

She released the brute, who limped back, clutching the tainted side of his mask. Some cultists rushed to his side, while others clung to Phor'cha's every word, clearly embracing the devious plot.

"Should we simply apply the warpstone to the bomb and leave it to the Imperium, they will deliver this blessing for us. Indeed, they will deploy it when there is a critical mass of chaos invaders in the third ring. But should we do as you suggest and crudely destroy it, tainted by the warpstone or not, then of course the cathedral will fall but there will be no blessing. For no faithful but us and a few other cultist cells exist in this ring. The Ecclesiarchy and the guard will rush to the cathedral and many will die but they will put it out soon enough. There will be devastation but no devious nature, nothing worthy of true infamy. Think my children, of how much sweeter it would be for this fire to not only destroy, but to mutate, to spread the gift of chaos to our Black Legion allies!"

To clarify, here you are being presented with three ultimate ways to carry out the mission. You don't have to give an honest preference IC but OOC you might want to discuss it with each other.

A: Detonate the clusterbomb in the cathedral. This is what Grendel wants. Will result in little corruption for the planet as a whole. Easiest choice in terms of mission, will annoy Phor'cha however.

B: Apply the warpstone to the clusterbomb in the cathedral before setting it off. This is the compromise choice. Medium difficulty, but won't really please anyone in particular. Most efficient in terms of war effort as the damage is amplified and mostly focused on the Imperium.

C: Apply the warpstone to the clusterbomb in the cathedral in total secret without alerting any guards. This is Phor'cha's ideal plan. Hardest in terms of stealth. After a delay, the guard will then drop this bomb in the third sector, which is where the invasion team is currently. The bomb will set off a chaotic explosion that will warp many of the chaos invaders into spawn rather than killing them, making them much stronger but thoroughly corrupting them.

[Hemnon]

Tchana looked up at the Insane-looking daemonthing and uttered out a schoolgirl-giggle. "Tzeentch? why him? I'm not much of a 'Lord of Fate' fan. I prefer feeling good and enjoying the pleasures of the world, instead of hungering for Lore, Destiny and all that stuff. I prefer to make my own destiny and enjoy the pains and pleasures along the way~ As for tainting the bomb and then leaving it.... sounds a bit dumb to me. What if the Imperials detect the tampering? Who's to say that Lord Tzeentch feels grateful to us for bringing forth his Mutating touch? What i know of him, he's the most fickle one of the 4 Great Ones, just as likely to make you Chaos Spawn, as to reward you for your grand deeds." She said out with a giggle, intertwhining her fingers with her sister's, giving the hand a light squeeze.

[Malthan]

“Oh ye of little faith, of little principle and mind.”

Phor’cha turned slowly, Avluv’s body unravelling and whirling like the meat puppet it is.

“He is simply the most magnanimous of our patrons. The most likely to bless our holy warp fire…”

The creature slithers towards Tchana, milky eyes rotating as it surveyed you. The other cultists, especially those holding up Grendel recoil slightly, clearly unnerved. Impudence can be easily punished.

“Fickle is merely fluid, you can always rely on him to entrust those who display great skill and power with additional rewards. Trust me. The spread of his blessing amongst our "allies" will certainly please him.”

Avluv’s twisted smile gave you little relief, instead making your blood run cold.

“And as for it being discovered by the Imperium… it will be your job to ensure that it is not.”

Phor'cha is attempting to charm Tchana. More of an RP thing than any concrete gameplay effect.

[roll0] vs 45 Fellowship, Charm +0 TN=45

Tchana's resistance:

[roll1] vs 51 Willpower, -10 Daemon Presence TN= 41

[Dekana]

Kyou mostly ignores the talk about who to dedicate the explosion to.

"What's was that about Supervisor Vandros? Can you tell us any more about him, or how we can find him?"

[Malthan]

"Ah yes, it is good to see someone with an objective based mind. Vandros is a false prophet and a high ranking member of the Ecclesiarchy. Despite this, certain sources have whispered to me that he might be vulnerable to certain 'mortal failings'. Amusing isn't it, how so quickly false spirituality can be abandoned at the slightest temptations..."

The creatures tongue lolled out and slithered in a snakelike manner.

"As you will be assigned to work under him sevants, I suspect he will encounter you quickly. Through guile or subterfuge find out what he knows. If absolutely necessary, you may use force. Use him as the fool he is and twist his knowledge to out advantage. If you can truly subvert him, his authority might be all it takes to allow access to the Cathedral's inner sanctum. Security might be another matter. Priests have little control over military matters."

[Hemnon]

Tchana chuckled at the last remark made by Miss Daemon. "And they make good Sacrifices right after you've desecrated them~" She said with a completely straight face, sounding like she's done stuff like that before~

[Dekana]

"One step at a time..." Kyou says cheerfully to her sister, thinking not only of the priests, but also security inside the Cathedral, and what to ultimately do with the bomb.

Then to Phor'cha: "So we need to save the entire war effort in the Third Sector. Anything else before we go?"

[Dekana]

Taking Phor'cha's silence as a "no," Kyou nods in understanding and then turns to leave.

"Come sister; we've lots to do. And uh, Agent Hecate" - she says with a glance to Mac Beth - "why don't you come home with us? We need to co-ordinate, right? And besides, I love having visitors."

[Malthan]

The daemon eyes the curiously, inclining it's head forwards. Two mottley cultists move up to you, presenting you with a gift.

"Micro-bead communication. To allow you to stay in touch with the cabal. I will set this mortal form to adjusting the work schedules, so that you might have proper authorisation to enter the cathedral as labourers. You might have to work on your own excuse Brina, should they even be organised enought to questions the presence of a mere guardsmen."

Grendel stands up wheezing, obviously winded but still dutiful, in a sense. He barges past Tchana gracelessly, growling out a caution of his own.

"Don't mess this up. If you get found out, you're on your own. You think we're hard on prisoners, you have no idea what the Inquisition would do to girls like you."

The other cultists make way, allowing you to travel out of the sewers at your own leisure.

[TheAnnoyingNoob]

Brina took her micro-bead and shrugged. Worst comes to worst Grendel, we could always off ourselves. Not much they can do to a corpse.

Turning to the sisters, she plopped her carapace helmet on top of her head. suppose so. Lead the way then, boss.