[DH2E] A Thousand Cuts

[LeSwordfish]

Dark Heresy: A Thousand Cuts
Chapter One: Dawn Over Gloriam



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A private sky-shuttle had been arranged for them from their up-hive lodgings, a wheezing Arvus lighter that departed early in the morning and headed down towards Gloriam sector as Juno Solus rose, a bright orange circle, made hazy by the dank air. They had been contacted surreptitiously and brought to it's berth, where a servitor-pilot sat drooling with a dataslate of files in it's lap. Magnus had been the first to flick through them - a gazeteer on the local area, brief profiles of each of the gangs, and their instructions for the task ahead. Once cajoled into life, the shuttle crawled down the shell of the hive, weaving between the lesser spires that encrusted the surface, and brought them in under the lip of an overhanging district to the Gloriam Shuttleport.

When they disembarked from the shuttle, it was dawn, and Gloriam sector was enjoying it's sole hour of sunlight. As soon as the sun had risen any higher in the pollution-choked sky, the vast bulk of the hive above blocked any natural light, and the sector was once again lit only by choking naphtha-lamps and flickering electricity. For an hour at dawn, though, the sun shone dull and gold-brown through into the underhive, and threw long pitch-black shadows across the landing pad and the nearby facing walls of the hive spires. In the light they glistened with outflow, and Gloriam seemed a tumour, a oozing sore clinging to the underbelly of the hive proper.

"Those are the most highly prized houses in the district." Starmer, their contact in the sector, said. Arbitrator Starmer was a hefty, ungainly woman, with a clanking augmetic leg, and she walked besides them with a distinct limp. "Gang leaders, prized lieutenants, narco-dealers. One hour a day of whatever passes for natural light in this place, and most people will kill for it."

Starmer had met them off the shuttle, and only had time for brief introductions before she had started leading them across the rockcrete plaza of the bay towards the buildings clustered around the entrance. "As a general rule, anyone on this side of the sector is not to be messed with. The further in you get, the lower down the pecking order, until you enter Razorteeth territory."

The stink of the place was familiar to Octavius - promethium jelly, sacred incense, and underneath it the stink of effluent, of ten billion people's waste thrown again and again onto the level below, pouring down the outsides and insides of the hive, to pool in the wasteland nearly another kilometre below. Gloriam sector was lucky, in that regard- it may run in their streets, but at least they didn't live waist-deep in it. One could almost taste it in the air. This far from the wall of the hive, the only noise was the roar of shuttle engines, and the screech of the wind through the smaller spires outwards from them, but it would be thunderous inside, the thick metal failing to cover the sounds of life from thousands upon thousands of human souls.

"Officially speaking, this sector is under the control of the Vigil, but once you leave the shuttleport that's not the case at all. Official arbiters advice - as dispensed by yours truly - is to hold those parts of the city deemed necessary to the workings of imperial society. To wit, this shuttleport and the Caramas passage, which is the only real road in the area, and the only way into the inner hive, where the generatoriums, food production plants, and suchlike are. The passage acts as a no-man's land between the gangs, with the Razorteeth and Pale Men on one side, and the Carnodons on the other. With me so far?" She glanced at them briefly, and returned to her lecture.

"The Razorteeth and Carnodons are at each other's throats near-constantly, and the Pale Men mostly keep out of their way. Near enough everyone in the sector stands for one of the three groups, but on the down-low. The Vigil don't have the men to hold the whole road, so mostly they hang back and break out any outright fights. Tension's building, though. Next big brawl, we might not be able to stop it."

They had by now nearly reached the point where the shuttleport reached the hive proper, a cluster of low refuelling and repair buildings around the bridge to the end of the Caramas passage. A crowd was seated on and around their luggage, pending their vessel's arrival, and Starmer paused just outside their earshot.

"Nobody else in this city knows who you are but me. If you need to, any member of the Vigil can contact me - I can verify your identity, should you want me to do that. Word will spread, though. Around here, anyone can find out anything."

She glanced at the crowd again, and the gate. "Once you're on the other side of that bridge you're in the underhive and there's precious little I can do to get you out. If you've got any questions, ask them now. Might be the next time I see you is coming out of one of those waste-pipes."

She gave a short, barking laugh.

OOC
OOC Thread (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?423404-DH2E-A-Thousand-Cuts-OOC)
The gazetteer and details are in the OOC thread.
You guys may not have met before, or Balthasar may have had you work together on things - feel free to define your relationship as you wish. Let's not do that thing where the PC's introduce themselves to each other after several hours of each other's company, though, because that's kinda painful to read.

[Revanus]

Octavius spent the shuttle flight to Gloriam pouring over the import of the Inquisitor's letter.

The Arbiter adjusts himself in the seat restraints. Since joining the Inquisition, his Arbitrator armor had been replaced with a dulled up and blackened set of old Enforcer-pattern stuff--sufficiently scuffed and worn to float the grey line between two-bit law enforcement or street tough with a nice set of cast-offs. His riot shield was gone, replaced with a gutter-sourced autopistol. His trusty shock maul, however, remained at his side, and his tattered black velvet cape gave a hint that Octavius thought himself a man of action and some status--real or imagined. For a man like Octavius, it was important to show the trappings of power--letting his big stick carry the day.

Razorteeth...demonic weapon..weapons dealers...Starmer...

Octavius racked his brain for any bit of useful information.

Common Lore Tests:
Common Lore (Underworld)--Info on Razorteeth/General Gang Scene
[roll]1d100[roll] vs. 36 (36 Int)

Common Lore (Underworld)--Info on underworld arms dealers (melee?)
[roll]1d100[roll] vs. 36 (36 Int)

[If one test can cover everything, ignore the second]

Common Lore (Arbites)--info on Starmer
[roll0] vs. 36 (36 Int)
-----
During much of Starmer's briefing, Octavius is silent. He knows the drill. He walks comfortably through the hive, listening to Starmer's experience and advice.

When Starmer asks for questions, Octavius catches her eye.

"What's the arms market like? Got a handle on who feeds the Razorteeth their toys? Or neutral chop-shops who might traffic in good stab-ware and fancy a friendly chat?"

He smiles at Starmer. A real friendly chat...

"Also, it might not hurt to get a read on the movers and shakers of the Razorteeth--any particularly notable scum we should stay frosty for?"

[Demon 997]

Karpath spends the shuttle ride down reviewing the notes from past case files in the area, along with records on demonic blades, hoping to find some connection.

He stays quiet for most of the Arbiters briefing, interjecting twice with some questions.

Arbiter, could you give us a sense of the balance of power between the gangs? Are the Pale Men underdogs, or do they not enter the fray do to strength?

Karpath mutters to himself, scanning the his dataslate and reviewing the Inquisitors message

Are there... rumors of unsanctioned pysker activity in the area? Anything that stinks of warpcraft?

He rubs at his right arm, as if feeling an ache.


Rolling Forbidden Lore (Demonology) [roll0] Target of 31
Rolling Forbidden Lore (Heresy) [roll1] Target of 31

[Adamusa]

Arz spends most of the flight chanting softly in his native language, a harsh, gutteral dialect common amongst the tribes of his homeworld. As they disembark and the rest of his cell begin asking questions, he chimes in with his own, though it's more of an agreement with Karpath.

"Och, if'n there be warp witches, t'ain' nary a man o'er suited ta dealin' wit' 'em than I," he grunts, his thick accent heavily layered over his speech.

[Revanus]

Octavius glances at Arz. He understood some of the words that Arz said. Others seemed to fit together about as well as a charge pack and an autogun.

Warp must have scrambled his brain... Octavius thinks--not unkindly and not for the first time.

[Col.Straken]

Alaric had made his aquaintance with the rest of his new fellows upon first meeting, and had shared little other coversation to date. They were all much more involved in their technology than he, and more informed of the Imperium as a whole. It was a gulf which would take time to cross.

He and Oscar followed the group, his armour covered by his robes while Oscar almost dragged the giant two handed sword which was Alaric's favoured weapon. He had heard the name of these "gangs" and knew they must have meaning. "I too am interested in these Pale Men. All people use a name which represents who they are. The Razorteeth fight with razor sharp weapons and with great ferocity I can guess. The Carnadons have a terrifying roar, but their bite is just as viscious. That leaves the Pale Men, I do not believe they are named for their complexion considering they all orginate from the same area. Why are they named such."

[LeSwordfish]

"The Pale Men are odd ones." Starmer seemed a little discomfited by this line of questioning. "We don't know as much about them as the others. Mostly they act as buyers and sellers - weapons, drugs, slaves, information - you name it and give them enough time, one of them can get it for you. That's why nobody else goes for them - they might not like them, but you kill a man without finding who he buys his drugs from and you can't buy drugs from him any more. Also, nobody wants to fight on two fronts."

"The name - well, they're an old gang, so who knows? When they move as a group, though, they paint their faces white with whatever's to hand - wall-paste, flour, whatever. Means you can't pick them out, can't go after the family or children. If you see anyone openly admitting to being one of the Pale Men, they're lying, an idiot, or very high indeed in the gang - and they don't hire liars or idiots."

"As for spooks, we don't think there's too much. Karrick has a little wyrd that he hauls around - throne knows what the man does but he sticks to the man like glue. Some say the Prophet's a psyker, though you can hardly blame us for not having caught him since we're not even sure if he's on the damn planet. As for anyone else... anyone draws too much attention, either we take them out or the gangs do. They don't trust spooks any more than the rest of us do."

[Revanus]

Octavius nods his head. It's all useful info. Pity the Arbitrator missed his question about the weapon vendors. He'd ask again.

"That's all helpful, Arbitrator. Thank you."

He nods and offers a small smile. Professional courtesy.

"What about weapon venders? Know anybody who's got a handle on the pulse of war merchandizing?"

[LeSwordfish]

"Around here? We don't get good gear, and on the other side only the pale men have it. Sebromvich is one end of that, and one of the few who'll sell to an outsider."

[Revanus]

Octavius nods and smiles.

"I've heard the name before. Looks like our notes line up."

[Adamusa]

As the group continue asking questions, Arz rolls his eyes. Whilst he understands the need for the information, it doesn't make him any less impatient to be about their task. He opens his small leather pouch, pulls out a worn-looking pipe and fills it with lho. He strikes a match and lights it, sending a small trickle of smoke from the long-stemmed pipe. He grumbles around the pipe:

"Ach, best we be gettin' a move on, young'ins. Ain' no taim ta waste if'n we're ta find t'Razorteeth, ye ken."

[Revanus]

Can what? Octavius wonders...

His mind drifts back to an early memory--etiquette lessons in the study parlor. Major dialects and variations.

Oh...understand...

Octavius considers pointing out that the Razorteeth probably won't be hard to find. Gangs have territory and they mark it clear enough.

He decides against it.

Too much work for too little gain. Keep chatter to a minimum, unless situation is fubar.

[Miraqariftsky]

On the ride down rockside, the cell's resident bounty hunter had curled up in her seat and safety harnesses, snugly asleep in a power-snoring ball of leather and pallid skin. Those of the cell who'd worked with her previously might well be acquainted with her penchant of sleeping soundly through atmos-transit and lighting up either hive-down or shipboard...

...but today is not one of those good days.

Genevieve grinds her teeth through unintelligible curses.

How'd that old song go? Tch!

All the ladies go a-falling
When the red knight comes calling,
With San Paladon, your loins be girding,
Take your medicine keep on working, keep on working
And to Him on Terra be praying. And to Him on Terra be praying.

Keeping at the back of their group, the normally graceful and chipper voider stomps along, hands deep in her pockets, her face fixed in a killing scowl that could bore through ceramite.

Still, she keeps her senses peeled for any danger. Just have to wait for the meds to kick in.

Hrrgh, warp it. Somethin's not right. Tip o' me tongue. Summin's warpy here, an' just can't put me finger on't.

[Col.Straken]

Alaric bows to the grizzled Arbites, "Thank you My Lady. The information is well appreciated." He then turned to the others, "I believe starting with this armourer would be a good start, however it will let the Pale Men know of our interest and possibly bring them to ourselves. That could end either way once we have their interest."

[Demon 997]

Should we proceed to the Armorer then? I think you arriving with a large entourage is fine, it makes them more likely to take you seriously as a customer.

Turning to the Arbite, Karpath makes the sign of the Aquila.

May your bones rest among the blessed dead.

[Revanus]

Octavius turns to Karpath. He chuckles and shakes his head.

"I...strongly disagree. Six people clanking in to a random two-bit chop shop will raise eyebrows in a neighborhood. And any gang worth their salt will have sparrows on the ground, keeping their peepers open for stuff out of the ordinary. Say the place gets a trickle of customers, most days. A pack of strangers all coming in at the same time will be noticeable. It'll also scream PLE.

Worst yet, we'll be "made" together--it'll be public knowledge that the six of us are "known associates."

Buying a sword isn't a six person outing. We split up and we'll have three advantages: We'll cover more ground, we'll stay deeper under the radar, and we won't spill the beans that we're a cohesive cell."

He shrugs.

"I'd split us three ways, two a-piece. Two groups should pound the pavement and get a read on the local flavor--catch the scuttlebutt and map the land without raising eyebrows or blundering into gang headquarters. The third group should head to Sebromvich. I'd pair a talker with a fighter in each group, in case things get hairy. We can then meet up at the end of the day and swap stories. A good spot would be a crowded bar, where we can sit in pairs and mumble into our microbeads without attracting attention...or a safehouse if there is one."

He nods to his fellow arbiter.

"If Arbiter Starmer can recommend a bar or a safehouse, that'd be golden as the throne. Also, if there some spare rags or fiddly bits that might help us blend in, I'm sure we'd all be happy to wear 'em.

As for group divide, I'd suggest whoever heads to the merchant be able to chatter convincingly as well as look like they belong in a chop shop. Off-hand, Alaric looks the part of a customer. And I can handle both sides of a Good PLE-Bad PLE routine, though if someone else thinks they can handle the merchant, I'm no glory hog."

Having said his piece, Octavius crosses his arms over his blackened chest padding and waits to see how it's received.

[golentan]

Foot tapping through the grimace of her current bother, Genevieve nods to the Arbite.

"Hitting weapons traders as a group seems a good way to intimidate or upset people, not a good way to get information. Any armorer still breathin's likely to be in good with the local gangs, maybe we don't want to let them know us *all* too soon. Coupla retainers for the customer, should be enough ta look serious, the rest of us should stick close enough ta help but far enough to not be seen coming."

Glancing around, she keeps an eye out lest anyone be paying attention already, waiting for the damn headache to clear...

Sorry, this is literally my first time with the system, apologies if I make any errors in reading the notation...

Perception+Scrutiny, I believe, since I'm trying to judge intent of people in the area [ROLL]1d100[ROLL] I believe the target number is 44, unless I'm misreading how the Advance was applied?

[Adamusa]

As the group continue chattering, Arz frowns. If there was any psyker activity nearby, he SHOULD be able to sense it. He growls at his comrades:

"Haud yer wheesht a min', ah micht be able t'sense summin'."

As he says it, he closes his eyes and reaches out with his mind, invisible feelers stretching over three kilometres around himself.

Psyniscience roll: [roll0] TN 34, range 3km.

Arz Gibberish translation: "Be quiet, I might be able to sense something."

[Miraqariftsky]

"W--- damned straight, yer honour, agreed." she says, with a flap of a finger and a deep nod towards Octavius. The resident bounty then shrugs, tucks a lock of mostly-midnight hair behind an ear and says, "Methinks I qualify as bother fighter an' talker, but hey. Anybody care ta take this dance ta fill my gaps?"

Pacing like a restless panther, squinting at the resident spook, but stilling her feet for now, Genevieve settles her denim-trousered arse upon the nearest and lowest gargoyle waterspout and leans back, pondering.

Once Arz delivers his divination, she listens out of respect for him--- and elder, a veteran, a spook--- then leans forward again, causing her violet bandana to flap.

Resting her elbows upon her knees, Genevieve says, "...Hmm. Just thinkin'. If at all we can avoid it, mebbe we should... minimize... er, collateral, or conflict if at all poss'ble? Ain't advocatin' goin' easy on heretics, but... just... y'know... wot if...
Supposin' the Razorteeth's boss do have a daemon-blade, or summin'... Wouldn't a general bloodbath actually FEED that Warp-wanker? If an' when we crack down on 'em right an' proper, suppose 'twas... in flagrante delicto inferno ...an' we catch 'em during a ritual, wouldn't the ensuin' violence feed INTO their ritual?

An' along that line-a reasonin' as well... Ye've said, ma'am, that the gangs are in a state of balance, fer now, a stalemate, if'n we were ta borrow from Regicide, but wot if their plan actually IS to tip the balance, get the gangs into no holds barred conflict, an' drown the underhive in blood fer their Ruinous Powers?"

Grimacing and scratching at a phantom itch behind her bandana, she continues, "I ain't knowin' any Warp-wankery right and proper, so... correct me if I'm wrong? If these be just some random li'l voider's rustiness an' vac-mindedness, correct me if I'm wrong, but... them IS a possibility dat bears some thinkin' 'bout, eh?"

[LeSwordfish]

Arz
Arz's witch-sight extended across the city, but at this distance it was difficult to read- the bright flames of minds burning across and against each other, such a vast number as to be almost blinding, like the elaborate arrays of thousands of candles in some of the up-spire chapels. Once his mind's eye had adjusted, he allowed his gaze to drift across and around them, watching the flicker, feeling the glow.

There were other things, though - light as the wind, but darker, like predators creeping in the long grass. As soon as Arz felt them, he felt them withdraw, and he couldn't sense them again - but he had the distinctly unsettling feeling that, even if he couldn't see them, they could still see him.

Starmer's voice, sharp besides him, brought him back to reality with a bump.

Starmer shrugged. "Mostly, any good space that can be used gets snapped up sharpish. I doubt there's any warehouse spaces, but it's possible that one of the buildings along the Caramas passage has been abandoned and not grabbed yet. You'd have to ask around for that. Same for where to pick up more suitable clothes."

A fracas seemed to be developing into a scuffle along the line of passengers, and Starmer whistled and indicated to it. A pair of Vigil soldiers waded in, truncheons raised, and Starmer returned her attention to the acolytes. "Best get you moving on, I think."

She lead them past the line of passengers, and Genevieve took her opportunity for a good gawk at them. It seemed to be the same collection of human flotsam to be found around any transit hub - several dozen downhivers, carrying small bags that likely represented every posession they hadn't sold for the tickets they clutched. None seemed to pay the passing group too much attention.

At the end of the line of passengers was the ticket terminal - a cramped building seemingly made of sheet-metal and mouldering wood, with one wall dominated by a heavy iron gate - onto the bridge and across into the hive proper. Two Vigilators with riot guns and shields - cheap guns and stamp-plastek shields, Octavius noted - saluted Starmer, and drew back the gate at her instruction. Once they'd stepped through, it was pulled back beyond them with almost unseemly haste.

"Best of luck." Starmer said brusquely. "You know how to contact me if needed."

The bridge was a narrow rockcrete roadway, built on top of the massive lattice of girders that supported the shuttleport over the lower hive levels below, and already chunks seemed to be crumbling away. Even here, the supporting girders had scrap metal nailed to them, and ropes from the roadway hanging dwon - a shanty town, hanging below the road. Despite it's delapidated appearance, the bridge seemed solid as a rock as they crossed it, although Oscar stayed away from the low rail at the edge.

The other end of the bridge was the hive itself. The sun was nearly fully risen by now, and the interior of the Caramas Passage was lit by flickering flames and dim anbaric lighting. Hives like this weren't planned or built, with each layer and each building hammered haphazardly together, and as they followed the passage inwards it became clear that it was only a main artery by default - it dog-legged dramatically twice within the first few hundred meters, and at places was so narrowed by encroaching stalls that it was barely wide enough for three to walk abreast. A scarab patrol car drove past, and they were forced to squash themselves against the walls until it was gone.

There were people everywhere - dozens upon dozens. The houses and alleys away from the passage were seething with activity like rat warrens, shapes moving under the dim lights within. Few were in the passage itself- a patrolling Vigil officer, a stallholder selling dented ration bars, a family asleep in the warmth of a brazier- but beyond that the hive was unmistakably alive. The noise carried strangely - a rattle of conversation, machinery thumping, somewhere faraway a gunshot. Water was flowing nearby, and at one point the passage dropped low enough that the slurry was ankle-deep. Upturned buckets provided wobbly stepping-stones through the muck.

[Col.Straken]

Alaric had been listening to everyone else again and they all made good points, the one that really stood out to him was numbers. He had said as much himself if not quite so specifically, but he thought that just a couple of people would blend in easier. That said Alaric wasn't much for blending in, even out of his armour he stood out like a sore thumb in such a technologically advanced world.

"I could pose as a swordsman looking for a new blade, though I fear that they would question why a person from a world such as mine would travel into the stars for such a request. I may be better suited to posing as a new recruit for the Razorteeth, I could explain my appearance a lot easier."

He looked back at Oscar who was stood a few paces behind, the sword resting across his knees. "I do think that we need to find safe place to set camp, my Squire is not much of a fighter, but he has a keen eye. I would recommend taking him to the Weapon Merchant to provide some knowledge on the equipment."

[Adamusa]

Arz scratched his beard as he puffed thoughtfully at his pipe. The hive was big, much bigger than he'd realised at first. Certainly much bigger than his old tribe... still, it paid to be careful. He withdrew his senses and the mental blocks that surrounded his consciousness clanged back into place, warding his mind.

He mused over what he had seen and felt. There was a darker presence in this city; one that was obviously warp-touched, if it had sensed his probe. In a city this size though, it would be impossible to locate such things merely by looking with his mind. He cursed inwardly as he realised that he knew nothing of what might be waiting in the wings. That alone was a worrying prospect, but the fact that whatever it was could hide itself from his witch-sight was all the more disturbing. Arz shuffled over to Octavius to whisper in the arbiter's ear.

"Dinnae cack yer breeks, but thar be summin' strange aboot this place. Summin' oot thar be aware o' me, though ah dinnae ken whit it be. Micht be worth keepin' two eyes oot," he muttered hoarsely, before repeating the process with the rest of the group.

[Revanus]

As they follow the Arbiter, Octavius continues the conversation via microbead.

<Okay...so it looks like we have three objectives. Find a safehouse, get more intel on the Razorteeth, and grill the weapons merchant. That's more than enough for a decent day's work.>

He smiles at Genevieve as she suggests watching the bloodshed.

<Interesting point. Personally, I wouldn't shed tears over spilled ganger blood, and we shouldn't hesitate to drop bodies if we're in danger. That being said, the shock maul is technically classed as a non-lethal weapon...we can deliver the Emperor's Peace once the weapon is secure.>

Octavius then nods to Alaric as the knight recommends going undercover.

<Infiltrating isn't a bad idea but I wouldn't go barging in to the Razorteeth with a recruitment form just yet. Street gangs look dumber than they are. Even if the only test of membership is "must have sword," the unwritten rule will actually be "must have sword and be from the neighborhood." Without a Razor...uh...tooth to vouch for you, or at least looking and talking the part...>

With that, Octavius glances meaningfully at Genevieve, confident the assassin would understand his point...

<...attempting to infiltrate the Razorteeth will just wind up separating your head from your body.>

Octavius shrugs.

<I figured Alaric and his squire were a package deal. But even if not, I'd still say the two of you should head to the merchant. It's not unreasonable for an off-worlder with a big, primmy sword to shop for another toy--perhaps an upgrade with moving parts. I'd also recommend myself to join them--interrogation is a skill I've refined over the years.

If we want to staff two teams to the merchant, we can. It'll let us know if we're being watched or followed, or if chatting with Sebromvich sparks a Pale Men reaction. That being said, there shouldn't be any violent escalation unless the job is totally botched. I'd say we'd be better off splitting the labor, and having the team that would cover instead try and get intel on our surroundings and the Razorteeth.>

Octavius chuckles briefly.

<Or we could split the difference and have them gather intel within microbead range.>

---
Arz whispers his statement to Octavius. In response, Octavius raises an eyebrow.

"Uh...right. Keep an eye out..."

Suddenly, Octavius is struck by a horrifying thought.

Is everything I'm saying as unintelligible to him as the gibberish he mumbles to the rest of us?

[Miraqariftsky]

She quietly flips a salute as Starmer departs, then deftly sidesteps the incoming patrol car, resisting the urge to try running across its roof as it comes. Wot the Warp is wrong with me? Emprah, these crazy thoughts...

Voider's paranoia or former scummer's survival trait? Still, the resident bounty hunter decides to back down, for now. Whasswrawngwitchu? It's. Not. JUST. About. Smashing faces. You insufferable warped-up strutting Bronze. You missed the frigging point. Who knows if whatever warp-wankers out there are going to be feeding off of unnecessary bloodshed. Holovids an' posters an' sermons 'cross any hive or ship 'cross half the whole damn Askellon have "bloodthirsty evil cultists" as material, an' guess wot, a damn evil chunk-o-tha time, real damned life bears that through! 'Xcept the real deal's smarter, cannier. OF COURSE WE KILL EM WHEN WE HAFTA, MAIM EM IF IT HELPS PUT DAH EMPRAH"S FEAR BACK INNEM, an' of course we shoot back if we're shot at, but itschjust don't go kicking a warp-rats' nest an' kickin' off... baaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh...

Apparently having seen--- or at least, heard--- more of the Emperor's myriad peoples via her travels, Genevieve glares at Octavius and hisses through a grim smile while shaking her head, "Sir. He just said. There's something of the Warp out there. And it knows we were just now looking fer it. Uncertain what manner o' warpspawn it be. Watch out."

[Demon 997]

I'll defer to your knowledge in these matters, Arbite. My own field experience is... limited, to say the least. I can't say I'm looking forward to getting more... Books and surgical tables are how the Emperor called me to serve, I should think.

Turning to Geneviene, he motions for her to lower her voice.

One should not speak of such horrors in public. Loose lips call for Daemons after all. Still, what you say is certainly possible, the slaughter of heretics being used to further their own ends. I believe that is why we are being used, to be the Emperor's surgical scalpel where a hammer might fail.

He grins wryly at that last bit. I'm rather good with a scalpel after all. All my patients says so. Some more loudly than others, but the case stands...

As they cross the bridge, Karpath looks visibly nervous. There hadn't been much in the way of heights on Thaur, what with it being devoted to putting the dead in the ground. Collecting himself as they reach the other side, Karpath speaks up again.

I'll go and look for someplace to stay. I think simply searching for lodging should do, pretend to be a lower hive medicae that needs to lie low for a while, possibly with some security. I'll keep a level eye out for abandoned buildings, but I think my first stop will be a tavern to ask for some rooms. Who wants to join me?

[Revanus]

Octavius nods and speaks into his microbead.

<Aye...good thinking, Doctor. Perhaps once we've settled ourselves, you might check with a hospital to see if any have come in with strange lacerations or wounds. Records of wounded gangers might also give us low-level contacts to pressure into a...more noble line of service.>

[Col.Straken]

Alaric nods along to Octavius's views, "I am more than happy to follow along to this weapon Merchant. I may even pick up a few parts. Partially as cover and partially for future use."

[Adamusa]

Arz rolled his eyes as Genevieve translated his words. It wasn't his fault others couldn't make out his accent, after all. As the discussions continued, he puffed on his lho pipe, deep in thought about the challenges that lay ahead.

[LeSwordfish]

Semyovich's
It was easy enough to find their way to the merchants - he seemed to be a common name amongst the people around, who were confidently able to point them north-west, into the edges of Pale Men territory. Alaric's outlandish dress drew some attention, but nobody seemed to care all that much. Outsiders would be outsiders, who could differentiate?

The only signifier that they were moving into Pale Men territory seemed to be a gradual lowering of population. The alleys and passages here were far narrower than at and around Caramas, with no clear definition between buildings, or even the inside and "outside". Every space seemed to be an alley, a corridor, a bedroom, and a market, all at the same time. Glittering eyes watched them from bedrolls on the floor, some propped up on pallets to keep out of the slurry that lay in a near-constant pool on the floor. The ceiling was dripping, and the stink was horrifying. Arz was beginning to feel almost ill from the confinement, the stench, and the claustrophobia - it felt the furthest from his own world he'd ever been. The sense of being watched itched at the back of his head, and withdrew whenever he inspected it - whether or not it came from mortal eyes, he couldn't tell.




http://i.imgur.com/GtdN4H1.jpg




Semyovich owned- or at least occupied a room a few levels above the passage, and they arrived in his space through a steep, narrow staircase from below. He was a small, wiry man with a massive mustache, and seemed to positively fizz with energy, leaping up from behind a sagging trestle table and halfway across the room to shake their hands. "Hullo, hullo! Customers! Always a pleasure, always a pleasure! How can dearest Semyon - I am dearest Semyon, friends - may I call you friends? - How can dearest Semyon help you today?"

The room's only concessions to being a store seemed to be the heavy trunks around the edge. The lids stood open - most were filled with battered tools and tins of ration older than their owner, and possibly older than the golden throne itself. No weapons were on display, except for the battered lascarbine in the hands of a burly woman dozing in the corner. Semyovich must have been a big name to have private security, unless she was his wife.

OOC
If you want to, make an Awareness +20 test.

Everyone Else
Only a few more paces down the passage was a red light, glowing through sliced holes in a card facing and projecting the ineptly-carved word "Pilgrimms Plase" onto the opposite wall. Underneath it was a low doorway hung with cloth- pushing his way through, Octavius found them in what was probably one of the more up-hive drinking joints in the sector.

The "Plase" had maybe once been a small chapel - it seemed to mostly be made of rough stone and tile, with windows that might once have held stained-glass frescoes now barricaded with wood. A bar was nestled in one corner, and maybe two dozen drinkers were scattered around in small groups, swigging grain alcohol and talking very little. Music was playing - a pound beat, intermittently dropping out as the speakers fizzed - and the woman behind the bar was drumming her fingers along to it idly, staring into space. You could tell this was a classy place- they'd laid rags on the floor to soak up the usual slurry of hive existence.

OOC
For further questions, best to start with Charm or Inquiry tests. I've moved you all here in lieu of clear starting points for your separate investigations - don't feel you all have to stick together.

[Revanus]

Semyovich's

"Hullo! My friend is in the market for new tools. He's a bit of a...hobbyist. Your shop has a strong reputation."

Octavius returns the vendor's smile, and makes a gesture to Alaric. He then glances around the shop, noting the shelves and their contents.

"Perhaps some with a sharper edge than are...currently on display."

[LeSwordfish]

Semyovich's
"Ahah!" Semyovich announced, his eyebrows waggling like sump-worms. "Something with a little more... kick, hmm? For my newest friends, I could see what I have..." It was a pathetic parody of subtlety. He slapped them both on the back - wincing at the contact of his bony hand with Alaric's armor - and started fiddling with the false bottom of the nearest trunk, before opening it to reveal a grab-bag of battered weaponry. Most of it looked degraded and bad-quality, but a few pieces seemed to be acceptable. Notable was the complete lack of edged weapons.

OOC
If you want to test Acquisition for weaponry, Semyovich has nothing rarer than scarce, and Common or better Quality is at an additional -10 to everything else. Same for melee and weapon modifications, though no edged weaponry at all. I also reserve the right to Veto if you manage to nat-1 and get a powerfist or something.

[Revanus]

Semyov's
Octavius nods and begins to browse the wares. He picks out a fairly clean Steiner Tactical Commando from a pistol drawer. The blued metal looks rust free. Octavius quickly goes through the standard motions--he spins the barrel and tests the cylinder release, and after finding these satisfactory, points the revolver at a vacant corner of the room and dry-fires the empty gun a few times--the trigger break is light and crisp, and the weapon seems reliable.

Octavius nods approvingly. "Very nice." He then makes his way over to a shelf containing explosives, plucking out a standard Mk. III Vengeance-Pattern frag grenade, along with a well-made fire bomb with a self-contained igniter.

"It's nice to see a businessman who knows his wares." Octavius brings his three items to the counter.

"Do you carry any edged weapons? My friend's true interests veer more in that direction, as you might have gathered." Octavius doesn't feel the need to point out the squire--the great-sword isn't exactly tiny.

"If not, is there someone you might recommend? A well-connected and knowledgeable merchant is a valuable thing..." Octavius offers another smile. Given his shopping list, it's not as though he's wasted Semyovich's time...

[Col.Straken]

Alaric and Oscar had followed Octavius to the weapons dealer, once inside they had remained silent. Alaric had barely moved except when prompted to, he kept his face stern and almost uncaring. Octavius had clearly got this under control. While the two others talked Alaric's eyes scanned the room, searching for any clue of Daemon Weapons, or even bladed weapons.

When Semyovich suggested they browse what wares he had Alaric knew exactly what he was after.

"What I am most interested in is parts to improve upon my sword, an exterminator cartridge would suit. Any Imperial Iconography to adorn my armour would be appreciated. Also if you could increase the amunition count of my side arm." he produces his hand flamer to be improved.

Sorry for the delay, currently on holiday and the WiFi was a little spotty (now on a more secure connection)

[Adamusa]

Arz glances around as the group enter the shop. Nothing seems out of place: out of place for a hive trader, that was. At any rate, he might be able to trace any psychic residue that a daemon-blade would have left, if it had been here at all. He wanders over to the trunk that Semyon has opened and peers inside, pretending to examine it for anything he might like. As he does so, he focuses his mind, mentally searching the room for any trace of warp-essence.

[roll0] TN 34, 34 WP

*sad trombone*

[Demon 997]

Karpath pushes his way past the rag, pausing as his eyes adjusted to the dim light. He frowned in distaste, the grime of the bar contrasting sharply with the sterile medicae bays he was more used to.

The things we do in the Emperors service...

Karpath walked into the bar, his teeth grinding as he felt the filth on the rags get onto his robes. The music he liked though, he'd never been fond of the devotional hymns of his homeworld.

Hello there Barkeep! What lovely bone structure you have... You could adorn a fine tomb...

Would you happen to know of lodging available in the sector? I and a few friends need a place to stay in the short term. Oh, and a glass of whatever they're drinking would be lovely.



Charm: TN 39 [roll0]
Inquiry TN 39 [roll1]

[LeSwordfish]

Semyovich's
Semyovich happily accepted the money for the weaponry, and took the hand flamer with clear reverence. "Of course, of course. I can install a larger tank, no problem whatsoever! I am a man of many talents!" He laughed, and nearly dropped the weapon - Oscar balked to see it handled so carelessly. "It should take maybe a few hours, yes? You leave it here, come back, it'll be all finished, no problem."

"As for your swords..." He gave an exaggerated wince, sucking in air through his teeth. "You came to the wrong place, my friends. Your knives and your swords... I do not carry them." He seemed genuinely aggrieved by being unable to meet a customer need. "Alas, the Razorteeth... they have such little respect for a gentleman's property, and they do so love their sharp things. They will take anything I have and maybe they will not pay, and they do not sell! I do not carry blades, and I could not if I wanted to." He shook his head sadly, then pointed sharply at Alaric's greatsword. "You keep that held tight, friend, unless you know how to use it. They don't ask nicely."

Arz
It was difficult to get a grip on the warp here, so far from what he was familiar with. However he was at least fairly sure that there was no taint here - if anything of that nature had passed through here, it's footprints had long since faded.

Pilgrimms Plase
The barmaid gave him a briefly startled look at the bone comment, before deciding it had been a joke and that the more fiscally prudent option was to laugh. "Ha! Always nice to get a new compliment. An' one glass'a Sooka, coming right up."

While she poured the liquid - thin and sickly-looking- from a plastek bottle, she continued talking about the lodging options available. "You want a place to stay, maybe you speak to Kinshie, yeah? She's got a hall and some truckle-beds. Not much'a private, but you rest your head and she got some good water. You want a private room, not many around. Gorsky, maybe, he's got that kinda thing a ways away near the sumpfall. That's in there with the Razors though, not a nice joint like this."

[Revanus]

Semyov:
Octavius turns to Alaric, attempting his eye.

"Sir--please don't be dispirited. Just because there is nothing of true rarity here doesn't mean our trip was in vain.

Decieve:
[roll0] vs. 37

Octavius turns back to the merchant and smiles. He begins to clip his purchased goods to his combat vest.


"Funny you should mention the Razorteeth. There's been rumors floating about that one of their bigwigs got their hands on a nifty piece of metal. Somethin' real exotic. A magic sword."

Octavius gestures around the store.

Now, these wares are nothing to sneeze at, don't get me wrong. But my friend here is a collector of sorts. Fine bladed weaponry--real exotic stuff. Even if it's not your type of product, perhaps you could refer us to someone who sells such things?"

Octavius gestures to the counter, filled with their purchases.

"We aren't simply window shoppers."

[golentan]

Genevieve picks her way down the street as the group goes their separate ways, eyes swinging from side to side... "Friggum frakkum... bet all the good locations'll be taken," she mutters under her breath, looking for a good site to claim for her compatriots. Any place without a sign, any place without a name... Hives like this should be full of all sorts of unusual nooks and crannies that the administratum just forgot, the sort of place where folks like her could live away from prying eyes...

With permission, I'd like to use Forbidden Lore: Mutants to know the sort of hidey holes where we might be able to hide without leaving either a paper trail or being easily trackable [roll0] target number 37.

[Col.Straken]

Alaric got the hint that he was to be silent, he closed his eyes briefly as the man nearly dropped his hand flamer. More in fear of the thing setting off than any cosmetic damage, Oscar nearly launched himself to catch it however and that brought a smile to the corner of his lips He is a good lad he thought to himself.

He turned his attention back the Semyovich, the man was clearly a liar as shown by the false bottoms in the chests. Perhaps he was stretching the truth about supplying the Razorteeth.


Rolling Scrutiny to see if I can detect any lying about the Razorteeth. [roll0] vs 39

[LeSwordfish]

Semyovich's
"Magic sword?" Semyovich said. For all that Alaric could tell, there was genuine confusion there - Semyovich didn't really seem bright enough to be a true dissembler. "I don't know about that." One of his hands flicked up to make a quick pair of symbols - an aquila, a ward against the evil eye. "But stay away from magic, friends."

"If he's a bigwig, he'll have got it from one of the littler wigs, ahahahah. Anything spook-touched-" again the ward against the eye "-would be the sort of thing he'd be sure to take. But getting a weapon off a razortooth, you'd better have a bigger weapon, because he'll die with his blade in his hand, is what they say."

Semyovich laid the flamer on his desk-slash-workbench and folded their money into the pocket of his grimy jacket. "If you want my advice, friends? If you want swords, find somewhere else."

Genevieve
Every space seemed to be an alley, a corridor, a bedroom, and a market, all at the same time. Glittering eyes watched them from bedrolls on the floor, some propped up on pallets to keep out of the slurry that lay in a near-constant pool on the floor. The ceiling was dripping, and the stink was horrifying. Genevieve wasn't unfamiliar with this kind of space from her time in the lower decks - but something about the place was itching at her. It took some time to realise what - it wasn't alive. Any place onboard a ship there would be a sense of activity somewhere, of machinery, of autoloaders and engines and the faraway roar of the plasma drive. Here there was machinery, and voices... but the decks - the floors - were still. The people were alive, but the metal wasnt.




http://i.imgur.com/GtdN4H1.jpg

[Revanus]

Semyov's
Octavius smiles at Semyovich. Casually, he removes his shock maul, making room to hook a frag grenade to his combat vest.

"Yes, I believe we are on the same page. We--your customers--would like your advice. We would like to know where we should look to find a swords dealer--preferably one who deals with exotic ones. You have a good reputation, Semyovich. It would be a shame if you gained a...different sort of reputation. It would be a shame if you were...no longer helpful to your customers."

Octavius rests his hand holding the shock maul on the counter, casually.

"So, can you point us in the right direction?"
----

Action: Intimidate
[roll0] vs 57 (37+20 outnumbered/readied weapon)

[Demon 997]

Where could I find this Gorsky? I'm sorry, but the sumpfall doesn't really mean anything to me.

Karpath picks up the glass, sipping it lightly.

Oh, it's like that distilled embalming fluid, Jokios used to make.

He drained the rest of the glass, and sighed appreciatively.

Thank you for that, miss. Tell me, if I wanted to buy a fine blade in these parts, who would I talk to? There are few thrones in it for you.


Who is here with me?

Rolling inquiry TN 39 [roll0]

[LeSwordfish]

Semyovich's
Fear and frustrated fury warred in Semyovich's eyes. "I told you, I don't know. You want a sword, friends, then go and speak to the Razorteeth. Or go somewhere else!"

This last was delivered loud enough to wake the dozing guard, who shook her head, took in the scene, and adjusted her grip on the carbine, though didn't speak or raise it yet. Semyovich continued. "Friends, you must understand. It wounds me to see a customer leave unsatisfied, but i tell you now that nobody around here will sell what you want to buy."

"If you want to continue your strongarming, I suggest you do it to the Razorteeth, and see how far that gets you." His genial tone was gone now. "You have come to the wrong part of the hive, friends, and I must disappoint you."

Pilgrimms Plase
"Oh, you're an outser?" The barmaid grinned. "Sumpfall's down the caramas road another kilo or so, then you go left through under the old transit tracks and down the pipe there. It's slippy, so keeps your hands on the rope. Gorsky's got a sign like ours, you'll see it from the fall."

She screwed the lid back on the bottle and shoved it back onto the battered shelf. "As for a sword, you're out of lucks there. Razors keep them all bound up. Nobody sells'em, cos the Razors don't ask nicely, they just takes them."

She leaned over the bar to inspect Karpath. Satisified that he wasn't holding a sword, she turned back to rubbing a glass with a rag. "You ain't gots any with you, yes? Razors'll haves em off you afore you can say "don't stab me." You want to buy fancy swords, maybe even the Palers can get one in, but they don't just sells to anyone. Might do better somewhere else."

[Adamusa]

Noting the distinct lack of anything warp-touched in the shop, Arz came to two conclusions. The first, was that Semyovich had no knowledge of the weapon and it had never been here. That, or it had been here so long ago that any psychic residue would have faded. Either way, it was unlikely they'd get anything from here besides cheap weaponry, though he wisely kept that particular thought to himself. He sidled over to Octavius and whispered in his ear.

"T'ain't nothin' here ah can detect. If'n that blade came through, it were a long time ago," he muttered. Arz straightened up and looked at the merchant, before drawing his laspistol and showing it to the man.

"This 'ere pistol be dear to me, but be a right pain t'be holdin' it an' tryin' ta stop some hackit bawbag from thumpin' me 'ead in, ye ken whit ah mean?" he asks, his unusual accent coming through thicker than usual.

Attempting to acquire a Forearm Weapon Mount for my Laspistol, because both hands free is useful.

[roll0] TN 25, 35 INF, -10 Scarce

D'aww, so close.

[Revanus]

Semyov's
Octavius mildly reholsters his shock maul and offers a conciliatory smile.

"Apologies if I've caused offense. You've been very helpful, and we appreciate your fine wares.

Thank you for pointing us in the right direction. I thought perhaps you might know of someone, even if only by reputation, given the nature of your trade. If it were the case that you knew someone who sells swords, it would spare us effort and wasted time--which would be valuable to us, of course.

If not, we'll simply do the legwork ourselves, and part on good terms. I hope we will continue to do business in the future--a good weapons' merchant is useful to the weapons collector, and I assume loyal customers are similarly treasured by weapon merchants."

Octavius winks and nods his head in a cordial gesture of parting.

[Demon 997]

No blades on me miss, I heard the warnings about the razorteeth. Just interested in acquiring any particularly interesting ones that have come through here. Thank you muchly for the tip about a place to stay, it's important to have a good place to lay your head. Or a place at all for that matter.


He starts to walk away, then thinks better of it.

You wouldn't happen to know who in the Palers to talk to would you?

Once the conversation with the barkeep is done, Karpath heads back outside, narrowly avoiding banging his head on the doorframe on the way out.



I've found a lead on two possible places to stay, one public one private. Assuming we'll want the private. Probably best to reconvene before heading there. Nothing on swords, seems the razorteeth take them all.

[LeSwordfish]

Semyovich's
Semyovich shook his head sadly, seeming somewhat mollified. "If you are looking for a blade... the Razorteeth do not sell, but nobody else will. I can perhaps find you some other sellers..."

He dug about in one of the piles of paper under the desk, pulled out a sheaf and showed it to them. "My usual suppliers. This is privileged information friends, guard it well." Octavius scanned the list of names - he recognised a few - and vox-codes. Most seemed to be a little higher in the hive, geographically far away.

"As for other sellers nearby, the pale men don't sell to those they don't know, but maybe someone in one of the other gangs could talk to them. As outsiders, friends, good luck with that. Sometimes weapons change hands at the Serrated Edge, but my poor friends, that's right in the middle of Razortooth territory."

"The Carnodons buy from the Pale Men. Some of them will have blades, I imagine, but anything of the finery you would wish will end up with the Razorteeth. Their main seller would be Dominik, a little south of their compound."

Pilgrim's Plase
"You don't speak to Palers," she said, shaking her head. "They speak to you."

She turned to another customer as Karpath left.

[Revanus]

Semyovich's
Octavius pulls out a small notepad and quickly jots down the relevant names and vox codes in a shorthand he'll personally understand.

"Understood. I'll guard this well."

He lets his friends glance at the list, then returns the list to Semyovich--leaving a few more credits on the counter, as a gesture of appreciation.

"Thank you again for your help. I believe discretion will serve everyone well. If we find something worthwhile, a finder's fee will come your way."
-----
Once the party leaves Semyovich's, Octavius whispers his response into his microbead.


Everyone in Vox Range.
<Got a few leads. Private sounds better than public. We can meet somewhere to recap--somewhere low-key. Where do you have in mind?>

[Demon 997]

Karpath whispers into his microbead

I'm outside a bar called the pilgrims plase, not too far from the main road? Shall we just meet on the main road, then head for razorteeth territory?

[Revanus]

Octavius glances at Alaric's squire.

<Let's avoid the Razorteeth. Neutral ground--somewhere inconspicuous. A crowded pub, maybe. Different tables.>

[golentan]

Frustrated by the unfamiliar city on top of an already uncomfortable day, Genevieve finds a quiet corner and begins to dance out her woes when she notices the humming of her vox. Answering, she listens to the conversation, and nods to herself.

"Neutral ground sounds good. Pilgrim's plase it is, see you in 5." Shouldering her pack, she steps back to the walk with a little skip in her step.

[Demon 997]

Karpath heads back into the Pilgrims Plase. He pauses at the counter.

Thought I heard something interesting outside, turned out to be nothing. A double of what I was drinking please?

With his glass in hand, Karpath wanders to a random table.

Hello sirs, may I join you? Just looking for new comrades to drink with...

Once settled into a conversation, Karpath starts asking the occasional question about the local gangs, Gorsky, and magic swords. Most of all he tries do develop contacts, and mentions his abilities as a medicae, should anyone have need of such services.


Charm TN 39 [roll0]
Inquiry TN 39 [roll1]

[LeSwordfish]

Pilgrimm's Plase
Karpath's new friends seemed largely neutral about a new drinking buddy - he had the impression that most spent most of their time here. They were a rough, downcast group, and he couldn't help but notice that several bore the marks of chronic illness. In these conditions, near enough everybody would - he himself would likely need a course of anti-contaminants upon leaving.

His charm was also infectious, however, and once he'd got the men talking they seemed happy enough to discuss things with the outsider, taking on the happily patriachial role of the men in the pub. Genevieve joined them shortly, and Karpath found that for some reason they seemed even happier to talk about their area to the lithe young woman.

OOC
Nice rolls!

The Gangs
These men are mostly neutral, and live in fear of the gangs more or less equally, though the Pale Men seem by far the less scary. The razorteeth will cut your heads off, the carnodons will shoot you, but the pale men won't do anything unless you anger them. They agree with the briefing materials that the tension that has been building will break soon - some predicting as soon as the next few days - and warn Karpath to stay away from all the gangs equally. Despite the arbites protection many of them resent the Vigil too - the vigil are notoriously heavy-handed, treat every citizen as guilty until proven innocent, and most of all get to spend their shifts in the hive and fly back to their nice safe mid-hive habs at the end of the day.

Magic Swords
Aside from the typical superstition about the use of "magic", nobody can tell Karpath anything, save that the Razorteeth will have swords all sewn up. If you want to find more about blades, it's suggested, talk to them Carefully. Rumors of the Razorteeth having a psyker are repeated. They name the Serrated Edge again as the main location the Razorteeth gather in addition, once Karpath mentions Gorsky, they suggest that they ask him.

Gorsky
Gorsky isn't a razortooth, but pays them protection money. There are nonspecific rumors that Gorsky is in some way working with the Razorteeth, but nobody can say exactly how. If Karpath mentions an intention to stay at Gorsky's, the men seem politely on edge about the idea, but are unable to suggest other locations - Gloriam sees too few strangers to support much of a hospitality trade.

Developing Contracts
These men have permanent lodgings in the local area, but no vox-codes or otherwise. They universally suggest that should Karpath want to find them again, he return to the bar and speak to the barmaid.

Karpath as a Chirugeon
This excites surprisingly little interest - apparently not far from here, only just inside Razorteeth territory, an ex-guard medicae named Aristarkh runs a small clinic.

Semyovich's
Semyovich seemed entirely happy to let Octavius copy his contacts - anything to get them out of the room sooner.

[Adamusa]

Arz scratched his chin. Apparently the merchant hadn't heard him. That or he was ignoring him. Either way, he decided, it wasn't worth the bother. As Octavius copied down the list of contacts, Arz kept an eye on the woman with the rifle. Discreetly, of course.

[Col.Straken]

Alaric kept his peace for the rest of the "shopping trip" and until they were well cler of the place.

"I don't trust that man, he is hiding something. Why keep false bases in those chests for such meagre scratchings. The hired guard did not fill me with confidence about his claim of always being raided. In our towns if we were constantly raided we either offered no fight or threat and almost became a trade of goods for protection or we garrisoned an army."

[Revanus]

Octavius shrugs and answers under his breath.

"Arz didn't spot anything. This is the underworld--nobody's trustworthy. Only way we could have gotten more out of 'im would have been to haul him out and twist the screws. We'll see how the leads play out and the others did. Worst case, we can always head back."
-----
Making their way to the bar, Octavius finds an open table and motions for the Arz, Alaric, and the squire to join him.

He then speaks quietly into his microbead.
<Arrived. What's the skinny on lodgings?>

[Demon 997]

Karpath drank happily with the men from the bar, knowing that you had to savor the happy times in the Inquisition. He'd spent so much time in endless surgeries or poring over ancient texts that this was simply relaxing. Maybe this field work thing wasn't so bad, it was like being off duty while being ON duty!

He also listened intently, trying to get a sense of the pace and throb of life here, and how things interacted. Perhaps some of these men might be semi useful contacts, perhaps not, but what they'd told him was already valuable.

The microbead buzzed in his ear, and he finished a swig of... ale might be too strong a word.

I'll get the next round fellows. To the Emperor!

Walking back to the bar, Karpath pauses for a moment, gripping onto a column as if drunk and unsteady.

<Man named Gorsky has a place near the sump fall, a click or two down the road. Private rooms, but in razorteeth territory, he pays them protection.

Rumors about the 'teeth having a witch as well. And there's a medicae in town, an ex-guard named Aristarkh>

He steadies himself, then head to bar and orders a round for himself, Genevieve, and his new friends.

[Revanus]

Octavius holds up a hand to the barkeep, signaling for three mugs of whatever's on tap.

<What's the other option?>

He pauses for a moment.

<We got solid leads on weapons merchants. A few outside of the area, one nearby worth tracking down. What we really need, though, are ganger friends. Maybe a Carnadon or two.>

[Demon 997]

<A public lodging house of some kind. Room with bunkbeds. It'd work to sleep, but not a place we can really use I think. >

<Might be worth paying the doctor a visit, seeing if he knows anything, or if we can find gangers to make friends with there. Weapon merchant or the Serrated Edge are likely the best leads though.>

Karpath heads back to his table, and resumes his conversation.

[Revanus]

<If the rooms are private, the public inn will fit the bill. A hideout in razortooth territory is no hideout. As for weapon merchants, we'll be wanting some friends with gang connections to smooth the introduction.>

At least, that's my read.

<The Doc is likely our next bet, whoever he is. We want to be avoiding Razorteeth territory until we're ready to make a move, in my book. If the Doc is at the Serrated Edge, I think we shift territory and put out feelers for Carnodon grunts.>

[Col.Straken]

Alaric opted to wait outside the bar, it wasn't really somewhere he could fit in. He idley rested on the pomel of his sword while chatting away to Oscar about days of old. "It was much simpler when you knew who the enemy was and what weapons they had. All you had to worry about was numbers, and numbers rarely decided a fight." he stated while the young boy sat picking at his nails.

[Demon 997]

<I believe the public in was a hall with bunk beds. But noted as the safer option.

So it's a toss up between being able to actually use a space to work from, versus it being actually safe.

The medicae is just inside razorteeth territory, but only just. I fear we'll have to proceed in that direction at some point.>

This does present an interesting problem.

[golentan]

Genevieve listened from her place near the back, having slipped in quietly, occasionally taking a draft from her... whatever this was. <What about Paleman territory? Neutral ground, as it were?> she asks. <Maybe we can find a underused warehouse or power relay station or summat. Just not fond of the idea of public accomodations: First place I'd always look for someone I was tracking> the bounty hunter added.

[LeSwordfish]

Carnodon Territory
It was surprisingly easy to find a spare space once they ventured into Carnodon territory - the further from the frontline of the passage they got, the less people there were. Every space still seemed occupied though, and the Carnodons themselves were around. There was a certain strut to them - mostly young men, often with noticeable scars or missing limbs - with red bands tied around their upper arms. Most were armed, usually with pistols or sawn-off shotguns, and the armament of the acolytes drew a few eyes. Octavius couldn't help but suspect that Red Alice would hear about the outsiders sooner or later, but nobody confronted them.

Their requests for rooms eventually ended them up with an elderly woman, so shrouded in blankets and rags that she appeared to be a face sat on the top of a heap of cloth. There was a sweet smell of corruption, as if below the blankets she was rotting.

"There's an old pumping station a little to the north." She announced. "But be warned, childs, its cursed!"

"It's not cursed." The young man next to her said. "When it was shut down, they didn't drain the flitration chemicals properly. It just stinks."

"It stinks with the corruption of the warp!"

"A couple of people have had hallucinations when they tried to live in it." He explained, rolling his eyes "Or maybe it's cursed. Who knows."

Mollified by this concession, the old woman nodded, satisfied.

---

The old pumping station did, indeed, stink of chemicals. There was room for the group to sleep and set up around the two massive pumps, but both were, as Arz discovered when he poked his head in and withdrew it quickly, nearly full with mouldering filtration chemicals that filled the room with an oppressive stench. The walls were thick and blocked sound though, and the doors were intact, with a rusty chain hanging from them - if they had a padlock, they would be able to lock the room.

---

Dominik's store was right near the centre of Carnodon territory - had there been any natural light here, it would have stood in the shadow of the compound. At the end of the corridor they were in, a clumsy wall had been built across with scrap metal, and two Carnodons with lascarbines stood on guard. They eyed the acolytes warily, as the men pushed their way through the hanging cloth that marked the door to Dominik's store.

There was none of the 'subterfuge' that had been at Semyovich's store - instead, Dominik was clearly and openly selling weapons. They hung on racks on the wall and were laid out on trestle tables around the room - the merchandise was largely the same as Semyovich's, but the presentation was far clearer. Dominik himself was also a contrast. He was immensely fat and sat on a straining set of spidery augmetic legs, that wheezed and ground as they hauled him out from the back room.

"Who are you?" he asked, suspicion in his voice. "I don't recognise you."

Doctor Aristarkh's
There were definitely fewer people around as they headed away from the shuttleport and then away from the Caramas passage. There was a corridor of sorts that lead along to Razortooth territory, and the Acolytes headed along it with some trepidation. Three rusty knife-blades had been suspended in the centre of the corridor along what must have been the border: Karpath carefully parted them to continue along.

The first Razortooth they saw crossed their path from left to right, so they only caught a brief glimpse of him, but he was young and strutting. Thick scars traced up and down his bare arms, and he was carrying a pair of bared machetes at his hips. From then on, several other gangers became visible, all in the same mould - young and muscled, walking with confidence, and armed: a hook-axe, a longsword, a belt thick with knives.

The Doctor's surgery was at the crook of the passage, a two-storey building lit by electric lamps. Clearly it was a place of some standing. The doctor's name - Aristarkh - was painted carefully on the door - and lamps were lit within. There was a near-inaudible shout when they knocked on the door - Karpath took it as an invitation and entered.

Aristarkh was a small, middle-aged man: perhaps muscled once, but gone a little to seed. He was washing his hands at a metal sink - Karpath could see that this room, with a few racks of tools, a metal cabinet with a heavy lock, and a clean-ish operating table and sink, was about as good a workspace as a doctor could expect down here. Genevieve instead spotted the decorative notes on the wall - she nudged Karpath and indicated the brass medal in its case on top of the cabinet. It looked guard-issue, and was scrupulously cleaned.

Aristarkh turned away from the sink, rubbing antiseptic powder into his hands and arms. "Good morning. I don't think i've seen you around before." He gave them a practiced doctor's look. "You don't seem overtly injured, but perhaps I can help otherwise." He shook the powder residue off his hand, and extended it to shake. "Medicae Garet Aristarkh."

OOC
Either of you have Common Lore: War? Test it to recognise the medal.

[Demon 997]

Medicae Karpath Lothos, pleased to meet you. I'm passing through this section, and thought I would meet the local doctor. Just looking to get a feel for the place, and offer my assistance if its needed and wanted.

You have a fine establishment, do you work with the razorteeth? Am I correct in pegging you as a ex guardsman?




Charm TN 39 [roll0]
Inquiry TN 39 [roll1]

[LeSwordfish]

Aristarkh's
Aristarkh smiled thinly. "Well, there are times when i'm very grateful for help... though it's quiet now. I have an appointment in a few minutes, though."

"I work with the Razorteeth, yes. I work with anyone who'll come to me, or who I can go to. And yes, I was in the fifteenth fusiliers." His eyes flicked to the medal. "A long time ago though."

[Col.Straken]

(Alaric will have gone to dominik's)


Alaric looked around, this was a more trustworthy shop. The guards looked like they should be there, the weapons were on display. He nodded to himself, this is a man who knows what he is dealing with. When Dominik spoke Alaric ignored him, his eyes scanning the shops wares, Oscar stood less than a pace behind him sword held so that the handle hovered a few inches from Alaric's hand. So they waited for Octavius to use his talent for speech.

[Adamusa]

(Arz followed Octavius)

As the small group pushed their way into Dominik's shop, Arz glanced around. Plenty of stuff on display here, he thought. It looked largely to be in the same condition as Semyovich's, but at least this one was better laid out instead of stuffed into crates. Whilst he waited for Octavius to begin his usual spiel, the psyker poked around with his mind; maybe there'd be something else here.

Psyniscience: [roll0] TN 41, WP 41.

[Revanus]

Dominik's
Octavius smiles mildly and spreads his hands in a gesture of peace.

"You know Semyovich. We know Semyovich, too. We all share an interest in weapons. Our is for those with edges and blades--things we're having trouble finding, as it turns out. My employer has particular tastes, and is particularly generous. Semyovich found it very worthwhile to help us. We would like to extend to you the same generosity and respect."

Octavious jingles a pouch at his hip, meaningfully.

Actions:
Deception Test (if necessary):
[roll0] vs 37

[Demon 997]

Ah, a man who follows the code of St. Hippocrates, treating all who need assistance?

Karpath looks around the room, scanning for anything out of the ordinary.

Tell me, one physician to another, have you come across any unusual injuries? Wounds that would not heal, that sort of thing? I'll admit to something of a curiosity about such things. One does ones best always, but its fascinating when the body refuses to mend.


Let me know if you need any rolls.

[LeSwordfish]

Aristarkhs
The doctor furrowed his brow. "I wouldn't say so. That sort of thing can happen occasionally - infections and such. So, yes, it happens, but I wouldn't call it unusual."

Dominiks
Dominik still seemed skeptical. "Well, you've come to the wrong place. If you want blades, speak to the Razorteeth."

Arz
The warp was calm here - as with Semyovich's - if anything had passed through here, it's traces had faded.

[Revanus]

Dominik's

Octavius nods respectfully.

"I see. Perhaps we might browse your wares then, in any case?"

Octavius hefts his coinpurse meaningfully.

[Demon 997]

Aristarkh's
Karpath putters around the room a little, examining it. More specifically, he looked for anything that would be out of place in a medicae facility, even one as rudimentary as this one. As he did, he made idle chatter, attempting to put the doctor at ease.

Have you ever done bone work? I've seen some fine tracery here, and some fine boned people as well. But enough about me, tell me about your time in the Guard, I'm sure it was fascinating.

In response to Aristarkh's answer, Well I suppose it's all to the best that you haven't seen anything odd, the health of the patient is second only to faith in the Emperor. Tell me, do you have any spare supplies I could convince you to part with?

Karpath places a bag of coins on the counter and jingles them.

Some stimm would be ideal, but if you have anything else spare I'm all ears. For professional use of course.

Karpath starts counting out coins and laying them on the counter one by one.

Oh, one last thing. Could you tell me a bit about the Serrated Edge? Is it a place a man like myself could have a drink if he keeps his head down? Or are the Razorteeth too... territorial?

His business concluded, Karpath turned to go.

Here is my vox code. Please do get in touch if you find yourself needing a second pair of hands. Not that I doubt your abilities, just that a second surgeon can save lives, especially if there are many wounded.



I'll stick around if there is anything Geneviene wants to do, but besides that I think I'm done at the doctors, unless any of his answers need follow up.



Medicae to examine the room (if allowed) TN 41, 51 if medikit bonus applies [roll0]
Charm TN 39 [roll1]
Commerce (Opposed roll to gain bonus on acquisition) [roll2]
Acquisition roll for stimm TN 31 [roll3]
Inquiry about the Serrated Edge TN 39 [roll4]

[LeSwordfish]

Dominiks
The man shrugged. "You can see what i've got." Clearly he was unimpressed by Octavius' money, or doing a good job of pretending to be.

Dominik's store has the same regulations as semyovich's, with the following difference: Common-Quality stuff only takes -5, not -10.

Aristarkhs
"Bone work?" the doctor asked, clearly confused. "No? Setting bones, yes? I've done that."

The infirmary seemed equipped with what one would expect it to be, though little of it. Less storage space, Karpath noted, although through the door at the back of the room he could see a large chest storage unit with an empty mug on top - evidently there was little enough that needed storing.

"In the guard I was the combat medicae for the Juno twenty-second fusilliers. Medium infantry. Saw action against the secessionists on Gor Vaden." He shrugged: Karpath had the sense that he was uncomfortable talking about it. "Survived where most didn't. Came back here."

"I'm afraid spare medical supplies simply aren't possible. You understand that everything I have here, I have to keep for my patients."

"Keep your head down sounds like good advice. The Razorteeth tend to brawl with each other and those that attract their attention - don't catch their eye, and you'll be okay. Why you'd want to go there, though, i've no idea. The gangers dont tend to take kindly to uphivers slumming it."

[Demon 997]

Thank you for your time Medicae. I think we'll be going, unless my companion has any questions?

With that, Karpath turns to leave.



Karpath heads back onto the street, and activates his vox unit. <Nothing of real interest from the doctor, though it's the most likely place a wounded ganger would turn up. He claims no sightings of strange wounds. Recommendations?>



Where is everybody?

[Revanus]

Dominik's

Octavius nods, glancing around the wares of the tent. Spying a metallic glint under a jumble of weapon slings, Octavius fishes out a plasteel heater shield. The shield is of a comfortable weight and size, well-balanced and showing only minor scratches and wear. A price is scrawled in red marker on the inside corner of the shield. Hefting it onto his arm, Octavius nods to Dominik and tosses a few coins onto the counter--overpaying by 10%.

Octavius raises an eyebrow and smiles.

"We've got the coin to pay for goods. We're not wasting your time, aye?"

For now, he ignored the crackle of his microbead.

[LeSwordfish]

Dominiks
"I suppose not." the shopkeeper said grudgingly. "Still can't tell you much, though. The razors take the weapons, and carnodon's don't buy them: means there's no money in finding them."

His eyes narrowed a little. "What did you say you wanted them for?"

OOC:Decieve test, please.

[Adamusa]

Arz scratches his beard. There was no trace of any psychic residue at either weapons merchant, which meant that unless his psychic powers weren't enough to find anything, the blade had come from off-world or from a merchant deep in Razorteeth territory. They'd have to dig deeper, though that was Octavius's forte, not his.

[Revanus]

Dominik's

Octavius offers a wide smile.

"We're collectors." He nods in the direction of the squire with the Great Sword.

"My employer's got a hobby, and he's always on the lookout for new pieces. There's been rumors goin' round that some Razorteeth bigshot got his hands on a real nice blade. We were hopin' where there's one, there might be more..."

[LeSwordfish]

Dominiks
Dominik continued his hard look. "Well, your employer is badly misinformed, then. If you want blades, don't bother going here."

He sat back, his chassis creaking. "If you ask me, most likely place a big-shot would have got a weapon would have been from an underling. The big names don't fight so much themselves, if they can avoid it. Or, so Alice says. Far be it from me to contradict her."

[Col.Straken]

Alaric grew bored with waiting and decided to have a look around the shop. Moving from his Squires side and leaving Octavius to keep the merchant occupied he took closer looks at the various items on display, he made sure to try and make his way behind Dominik, his eyes searching for anything of interest hiding behind half closed doors.


So I am going to be a bit more pro-active, and attempt to see if Alaric can see though any openings to possible "Black Market" goods.

Per: 39. [roll0]

[Revanus]

Dominik's:

Octavius nods sagely.

"Aye. So, you haven't heard anything in particular about a guy named Karrick's new sword, have you?"

Octavius affects an unstudied attitude, but his eyes are alert for any sense of deception.

"Separately, you haven't got any recommendations for dealers in blades, have ye? Maybe some among the Razorteeth territory who appreciate a good customer?"

Scrutiny:
[roll0] vs. 27

[LeSwordfish]

Dominiks
"Karrik's blade?" Dominik asked. He ignored the second question completely, but leaned forward with interest, his eyes glittering. "If you're looking to know about Karrick, Miss Alice will want to know that. And she'll want to know what you know already."

Aristarkh's
Aristarkh nodded politely as Karpath left.

With Genevieve in tow, uncharacteristically quiet, he set off on a wander around Razorteeth territory. They had barely reached the corner of the road that Aristarkh's clinic sat on, however, before two members of the Razorteeth rounded the corner - a tall, swaggering man following a second, smaller and skinnier and seemingly much more nervous. The tall man was armed with a pair of vicious sickles, while the smaller man wore only a dagger. The corridor was narrow, and Karpath had to squash sideways to pass the two men, but his shoulder collided slightly with the smaller. Before he could continue, the taller man had stuck out an arm to stop him.

"Excuse me." The ganger said, tone full of menace. "I think you owe my brother here an apology."

[Demon 997]

Of course sir. My apologies for bumping into you.

Karpath attempts to move on with his journey, looking over his shoulder and gripping his laspistol under his robes, thumbing the safety off and the setting to overload. Once out of earshot, he voxes the group. Potentially hostile razortooth contact near the doctors. Come if I don't give the all clear in a minute.

Forgot to roll charm, and I'm on my phone now, could you roll it for me?