The Primeval Dark - Amrita of Vile Shapes (IC)

[Mornings]

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The rumble of the engine and sharp jolt of the bus’s wheels upon the jagged black rocks jostled Jabari awake from his bowed position. Fortunately, from behind the head of the bus seats, Lady Yulena hadn’t seen, but the rest of the 404 at the rear of the long vehicle tried to suppress their laughter. It had been nearly a week-long vacation in Telve. The lights. The cheers. Song and drink. For the first time in the lives of most of these Cheisha fighting-men, they hadn’t been treated like slaves or sub-human animals. They were hero's of the empire. The only volunteer unit of the Imperial Army within the 201st Duty. When anyone saw their arm-bands, their demeanor changed completely. Almost none of the men dared even go to relieve themselves without their uniform. It was like a suit of armor. When they wore that, they were invincible. When they wore those colors, no one could talk down to them anymore. For eight days, they were kings. For eight days, they had truly lived, and tasted the sickeningly sweet kiss of the citizenship they bled for.

...And then the dream ended.


The riflemen, who had been dispatched as part of the forward team, re-assembled at Telve Grand Central Station, meeting the rest of the 201st Strike Force. They were invisible. They were nothing, again. The total force had been comprised of the 404th Imperial Rifle Company (as the regiment had been divided), the Claris Purity Arm, Ritter’s Glorious Scripture and the Bloody Scripture of St. Kos; which was being represented by their commanding priestess, Sister Yulena. In addition, there were a handful of scientists from the Central Imperial Lab, Psyches from the Northshore Hospice and an abundance of chained slaves sold into the 201st Duty. Nearly one-hundred-and-fifty men strong. It could have been called a full company had they all been soldiers.

The reality of the situation quickly dawned upon each soldier quickly; they were the lowest ranking ones here amid that dreaded social ladder. As the Vassal’s directed the boarding of the vehicle, even the slaves were allowed to board before them. They were in penance to the 201st, thus their duty was sacred, while theirs as volunteers, was not. Thus, they were inferior. In single-file, they walked the gauntlet of hateful stares. Men and women looking on with knives behind their eyes. Some of them spat at their feet as they passed while those in chains averted their gaze, equally ashamed and relieved it was not them. Kædda had grit his teeth and led his men through the crucible, head held high. This welcoming gesture had been intentional. To remind them who they were and where they truly stood in this world; least they forget. As they found their seats, the last of Kædda’s bearing was eroded and he slammed his fist into the steel wall, unable to contain his indignation.


It had been four hours. The sounds of the city and the music had been flushed away long ago. They had passed through the Golden Wall, the last of Ocirrion’s barriers which shielded the civil world from the savagery beyond. The south was certainly still Cimmeria. Imperial soil ripped from the hands of the natives who once dwelt here, but it was ‘the frontier’. Wild and untamed lands where Ocirrion’s light could faintly reach, and it made up the majority of the empire’s physical topology. Now even the last gleaming lights of the Golden Wall had become a faint flicker, like a star resting upon some distant horizon.

The morning sky was darkening as the tendrils across the heavens choked out the last rays of the sun. They had each been thinking it, but Cade’s voice whispered it first, seemingly alarmed. “...We’ve passed into Melotte County.” The howl of the chill wind and the rocking creak of the massive white bus driving across the broken pavement were the only sounds other than the Lady’s voice as she had begun the prayer to renew their blessings. It was strictly forbidden to speak during such a holy right, men had often been put to death for it. Cade kicked Jabari’s leg from under the seat, whispering while his face was lowered and his hands were joined in feigned prayer, “We’re not supposed to be hitting Melotte yet. Those idiots changed my plan.”

Jabari was tall for a Cheisha, but still strongly retained his Nára features, making him look like a young girl of unusual height. Second to Kædda, Jabari was the second highest ranking member among the enlisted and also wore a modern Enchel uniform, following in his example. It was evident the tall young man was perturbed by Kædda’s repeated kicks, at first trying to ignore the breach of etiquette, until he could no longer. Flustered, he whispered back dismissively, “So what? We’re probably going straight to El’Mas Vel instead of delaying further. It’s our ancestral homeland, shouldn’t you be happy to fight for it?” Lady Yelena’s voice cried out over the crowd as she stood next to the driver, continuing to lead the sacred rite in her own fashion. “...OCIRRION’S LIGHT SHALL SHIELD YOU. HIS LIGHT WILL WASH AWAY THE IMPURE!” Cade smashed his forehead with his hands repeatedly, speechless by his Cheisha-brother’s idiocy. “Look, dumbarse… Firstly, El’Mas hasn’t belonged to an Enchel clan in a thousand years. Before the Cims had it, Clar did. Before Clar had it, O’Kaas did; back when they were still actually a kingdom. Khelba’Chel is more your ‘homeland’ than that place. Secondly…” Cade shifted about to make sure the others at the fore of the bus couldn’t overhear them. The Sister's zealous words still seemed to keep most focused on the prayer. The Lady was now screaming at the top of her lungs, the veins in her neck running taught as her graceful features contorted into an ugly maddened sneer, “...RIP OUT THEIR HEARTS! THEY BEAT NOT FOR GOD! CUT OUT THEIR EYES! THEY SEE NOT HIS LIGHT!” His whisper came out like an accusatory hiss, “...If you want to pretend you’re some kinda Kaalsi, then at least say it right. The sheit is pronounced ‘Eh-MAS, Veh’, not ‘EL-MAS-VEL’. That’s how Cims say it.” He kicked him again for good measure, and to get his point across. While the soldier's face wasn’t visible while buried in his arms, Jabari’s ears began to turn red, likely in embarrassment.

“These Cims don’t give an el’sheep’s sheit about ‘homeland’. Or southerners. Or us, for that matter. Take your head out ya’ arse, and think. Think. Why the fawk would we be heading south before the northmost county outposts?” Many of the soldiers at their sides seemed to be brought to pause as well, having likely been caught in similar thoughts of false-glory. Then Jabari finally replied. "They sold us out… Those fahking Cims, sold us out?" The wild holy service had reached a climax. "Now, there's my boy..." The Holy Lady was now standing on a seat, waving the blade of a sacred relic above in a frenzy while howling. Her sermon was belched out in a gargled mania with nearly unintelligible words that sounded more like a corpse’s rasp. “FLAY THEM! CRUSH THEM! KILL. KILL. KILL THE IMPURE! CAST THEIR CHILDREN UNTO HIS HOLY GEARS. BLOOD MEETS IRON. FUEL HIS FIRES!” Drool ran down her face as she threw back her head in some contorted manner of divine-spasm, screaming something indiscernible into the ceiling. The bus erupted into frenzied cheers and cries, some even being brought to tears and bowing their heads before the priestess’s divine grace. A golden burst of dancing sparks, like a handful of glittering sand raced out and filled each of them with renewed vigor, restoring their blessing and the use of their weapons. Out of habit, each of the riflemen subtly inspected their weapons to ensure they had come back online. With the prayer having reached its conclusion, Cade spoke in his normal feminine tone to all his men, “Keep your eyes open, boys. Look for anything out of place. Something or someone isn’t supposed to be here, and that’s the reason why we’re about to eat sheit.”






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[Terminal Start up Sequence Initiated.]
[3…2…1……Initiating Sequence.]
[Boot Successful.]
[Login: Dr. Carver.▓]


The text across his mask’s display flashed before his eyes.

The doctor could feel a surge of violent energy racing into his body. It was like a rush of adrenaline while standing at the face of a cliff being crushed by a powerful ocean wave; light water sprinkling his face. Refreshing. A gloved hand found his shoulder. It was St. Kos. “We’re almost there. I’m sorry to ask so much of you, brother. I know I can trust you with this.” Having multiple Vassels in once place was a rarity, but not unheard of, especially during holy days. However, the same could not be said for Accusers. Other than when members of opposing Arms clashed, Accusers had rarely ever came together outside their respective organizations. It was even more unheard of for two Accusers of the same Arm to be present in the same place. Some Orders only retained three Accusers in service at any given time.

It was an occasion which had not happened in a very long time. So, it seemed strangely appropriate that such an occasion would be in the presence of the living-saint, Cenriel. This was the first time Carver had ever met Saintess Kos. Just as it was for any one present. Few among the junior ranking offices of the empire had lived long enough to have witnessed both her modern-day arrival, and her previous coming. While it was unknown where the Saintess had been for all these years, it was assumed she had once again returned to the world during the empire’s time of need. Of course, It was taboo to speak of her long absence, question from where she had departed from, or state their opinions regarding a lack of prior intervention during such times of conflict; let alone ask her directly of such matters. Still, regardless of the truth, it was without doubt, something entirely too complex for the simple minds of mortal men.

As a Theocracy, the empire was ruled entirely by religious offices. The faith was the government. Traditionally this was composed of the Divine Ministry and the Council of Sacred Orders. However, a handful of things could overrule the decisions of the ruling elite of the empire. The first were the Red Eyes of TEMPLE, the immortal android-priests which tended directly to OCIRRION. Then there was OCIRRION himself, though he almost never directly intervened without his Red Eyes. There were also the Ascendents. Higher gods from the Otherworld which birthed OCIRRION, to protect and guide them, while they oversaw the continued existence of the universe. Then finally, there were the Saints. Once mortal men and women brought unto godhood by the Ascendents. They were the chosen few who dispensed the Ascendent’s unknowable will throughout the mortal world and brought their strange visions into fruition. Among physical beings, no authority was greater than a Saint’s. Their words alone could overturn the governance of all nations beneath the empire’s control.

Sister Yulena had managed to regain her composure and clean herself with a warm silk cloth offered by one of her attendants. Once again her features were fair and subdued, with a softness buried behind the meekness of a doll. Cenriel gestured to her with a curt tip of her chin, which the priestess hurriedly responded to, coming to a kneel at her side in the middle of the seat aisle. “That was a wonderful service, sister.” Yulena knelt motionless, as if her body were completely inanimate, her eyes closed passively. To those who had been in her service, they found she rarely opened them outside of prayer; as if some divine sense allowed her to see without eyes. “Though I am lacking, this humble priestess is overjoyed you feel so, saintess.” Centriel stroked her hair softly with an absentmindedness, as if she were some manner of pet. “Do not lose your fervor, sister. Soon… Very soon. Enemies that you cannot understand will wash over this world. Then where will your light be? I hope guiding the lost, as a shepherd might. Bring all with strength left, the will to fight. All men. For soon they will be equal in battle. Or equal in death.”

Ever motionless, it was impossible to tell if the priestess had actually understood any of the blasphemous words the Saintess had said, but just the same she quickly replied, “Of course, saintess.” Placing her hand on Carver’s Cenriel looked back at the petrified woman, "I trust you have made the preparations for my brother that I’ve requested?” Again, only the sister’s mouth appeared to capable of moving, “Of course, saintess.” With her answer, the Saintess waved her away. Gracefully she rose and skulked away, leaving the two of them alone. Six seats had been reserved for the Accusers, three on each side, giving them some degree of privacy. “You will be on your own for a while. It will be dangerous, but Yulena has made arrangements for you.” Her gaze was now directed at Carver directly as she passed him a small chip; a datacard for his display system. “This contains the details of your mission. There is an Ashman you must meet. You will find him in Yelnne.”

The ‘Ashmen’, as they were called, were a detachment of the Imperial Surveillance Corps who operated exclusively in the empire’s southern territories. So named, as they frequently spent most of their time patrolling about the wilderness of Cimmeria’s important industrial cities. These Frontier Rangers were a rare breed of Cimmerian who could survive weeks or even months out in the wilderness with the absolute minimum necessities. It took three years of training through the Imperial Ranger School before a cadet was eligible to take their field exam and earn their ranger badge. Only two-percent passed through this grueling crucible, many died before they could even attempt their graduation test. These soldiers represented the empire’s most elite reconnaissance force, and a great deal of time and money was invested into each one of them. After a ranger had graduated, they required another two years of training in the holy capital of Khelba’Chel, where they were instructed under the supervision of the Red Eyes on how to conserve the holy light of Ocirrion and allow its latent embers to flicker on for days, or even weeks without renewing their blessing.

Unlike other branches of the empire’s military, the Imperial Surveillance Corps belonged to the Righteous Scripture, allowing each member to also serve as an impromptu Inquisitor. This was the only method by which a Ranger’s reports and testimony could be readily accepted, and so they were by extension, holy men of a sort. That position almost never saw any use, as Rangers were always employed abroad and within the empire to maintain a reliable information network. “The sister’s blessing will only last you fourteen hours. Were I not in the need of them, I would send a Vassal with you. Unfortunately, you will need to make due and halt by no means.” It was an impossible task, at least, on foot. Carver understood her apology now. It was a three day journey from Kelpis to Yelnne, and they hadn’t even come that far yet by bus. Her hand tightened on his, her gaze unyielding. She didn’t need to explain any more. He had fourteen hours. For should he lose the light of Ocirrion out in the southern wilds…

He would die.



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[Chromascope3D]

She had always called him brother, as though they were equals. But he knew well his place.

"Fourteen hours... precious little time to find a man that specializes in not being found, I suppose."

As Carver took the chip from St. Kos' hand, he could not help but return to her warnings. It was rather surprising to hear it confirmed from the words of one so very high, but by no means was it unexpected. Blind patriotism and optimism, after all, were luxuries not afforded to those of his station. The doctor knew, or at least suspected (having heard both from whispers on the wind and from the results of his own inquiries), that as bad as things seemed, the reality of their present state was far, far worse. Still, he had said himself that time now was precious; now was not the time to interrogate it further. At present, the Saint was his commanding officer, giving him a direct order.

Carver preferred isolation as a rule, and this would not be his first sojourn into hostile territory. It was, however, uncommon to have such a strict time limit, which would limit his normally judicious use of caution. But, no matter. If it was the will of God, then it would be his own will as well. His hands clasped together, Carver nods, his brown eyes regarding the woman that taught him to hold a knife, as he continues, "No, there is no need to apologize, my Lady, you asked me because you wished it done, and so it will be done. So, what preparations have been laid aside for me, then, a vehicle?"

[Mornings]

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[Mission Data-Module Detected For Operator ID#1C47.]
[Initiating Contactless File Transfer.]
[Transfer Successful.]
[Mission Time: 13:58]

[Mission Task Summary]
[□ Primary Objective: Secure Yelnne Surveillance Records From ID:1D07 - Senior Ashman Tuse Huain.]
[□ Secondary Objective: Secure Primary Road Through The Town Of Yelnne For Transport Of The 201st Duty Strike Force.]
[□ Tertiary Objective: Ensure Continued Operations Of Yelnne's Industrial Refineries.]

[Establishing OGRN Connection For Positional Data...]
[Connection Failed.]
[Establishing OGRN Connection For GPS Coordinates...]
[Connection Failed.]
[Ories Global Research Network Is Unavailable In Your Location.]
[Defaulting To MOGS Offline Support...]
[Initiating...]
[Mission Objective Guidance System Loaded Successfully.]
[MOGS: Objective Marker 1 (Pendes Station) Has Been Placed As Waypoint.▓]

The wall of text populated as the chip in his hand dissolved like a cube of sugar dropped in a glass of water, and his heart sank. The deep south wasn't known to many, but this far north, most fighting men were still generally familiar with the geography. The Keplis road, which they were beginning to near, marked the highway going all the way to Wainefil Observation Post, in the heart of the untamed lands. In order, one would travel down the highway, past the Bines ruins, then reaching Pendes Refueling Station; the last stop before passing beyond the point of no return. It was easily ten hours of driving to reach the Kelpis ruins, which served as the landmark indicating one was three-days walk from Yelnne.

Even with a vehicle, they'd never make it. Surely they would run out of fuel even on a full tank driving for over ten hours. A sense of dreadful understanding begun to set over him. Even if they could somehow manage to make it to the Kelpis ruins, or all the way to Yelnne by Ocirrion's grace... it was a one way-trip. The reports from Yelnne were certainly concerning and it was likely they would meet a stiff resistance upon arrival. If they expended all their strength just to reach the city, how would they be capable of defending themselves?

A tight hand over his own ended the contextual analysis, “This task is not doomed, brother. I would not send you out to die hopelessly. No vehicle would be swift enough to bring you to your destination. You must relinquish caution for haste... I have arranged a TARS be brought to Pendes. It will transport you to Yelnne with time to spare. The 404 will be providing an operator to see you safely arrive.” A TARS? That changed everything. These Machinations of Fal had all been reclaimed by the empire and strictly guarded, to ensure they did not fall into the hands of their enemies who might seek to employ such powerful weapons against them. TARS were strange sentient mechanical wonders. Land and aerial weapons powered by an unknown system similar to high powered rocket technology. The aircraft could catapult an operator from ground into the sky and arrive thousands of miles away. How the 404 was able to secure a pilot skilled in operating illegal foreign technology was beyond him, but his task now seemed both realistic and achievable.

The Saintess smiled softly.
“Have faith, brother. Ocirrion's light guides you.”




As if on cue, his digital display populated with a reticle in the corner of his eye, showing him the direction of his destination.


[Pendes Refueling Station.▓]




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[forg99rules]

As the bus jostled down the Fredrik had let his mind wander, the enjoyment in Telve still fresh even if it was short-lived. Of course, everything had to end, they had a job to do and the likely hood of ever getting to enjoy such bliss again was basically nill. Still, he replayed the last two weeks over and over in his head till his mind was ripped away from its own musings by the start of the holy woman's zealous prayer. Fredrik could feel the itching in his ears, the want to just stuff his earplugs into them and not have to hear the woman scream and rant about her god. Instead, he did what he had always done in situations like this. Reaching up to the collar around his neck, giving it a brief adjustment, he lowered his head as if in prayer. Having learned early in life that it was better to appear faithful than to blatantly ignore it or show his disdain.

As he tried to find anything else to pay attention to besides the crazed woman he picked up on the conversation that Cade was having with Jabari. He had not been like others with thoughts of glory nor did he expect any of the cims to give a sh*t in regards to what they wanted or had planned. It had come as no surprise to him when he heard that the cims were selling them out either, he had come to expect such things, as a Cheisha he was bottom of the barrel in the eyes of the cims. Like always he would be at the mercy of those that sat higher in the social ladder, Nothing in his control would ever change that nor would the cims really want it to change either.

As the rite ended and the blessing restored their gear, Fredrik began the check of his equipment. His first check was, of course, his Dyne Machine-Rifle Emiliana, He had named his rifle after his late sister who had been murdered in his early days. Unloading the weapon he gave it a quick dry fire before reloading the weapon, slinging it over his shoulder he pulled out his stone-rifle and repeated the process. He knew that with the stone-rifle it was really needed as it would always fire, still though he had developed the habit. Having checked his weapons he started towards the various pouches on his vest making sure that they were secure and that nothing would fall out should he need to move quickly. As his hands moved about the pockets he slowly scanned the rest of the bus, If Cade thought that something or someone wasn't supposed to be here then it must be so.





ROLLS

Know Local - [roll0] - trying to figure out what Fredrik would know regarding Melotte County since Cade mentioned it.

Perception - [roll1] - Following Cade's Advise and seeing if anything or anyone appears out of the ordinary.

[Chromascope3D]

Carver's mask betrayed no emotion, save for his eyes widening ever so slightly in astonishment, and he could not help but repeat, "...a TARS..."

Even for one as he, he had only thrice before experienced the exhilaration of embarking the machine, and he would no doubt relish this opportunity as well, "Truly, Ocirrion's blessings are manifold and bounteous. This task will be done, I will see to that."

He pauses to think for a moment. That far south, there was little chance for proper establishment. Crawling with the afflicted, it could be a treasure trove of data, but he would need to keep on his toes lest he he overwhelmed by more than his research. His brow furrowed at the thought, but, not wanting to waste anymore time than necessary, he asked only, "This... hmm... operator you say... might I also request its documents? If a dog is going to be following me then I would like to know what tricks it can perform first, hm?"

Wanna see what all Carver knows about TARSs
K: Engineering [roll0]

[Mornings]

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Fredrik had learned, as they all had, that to be Cimmerian was to accept the faith. At times it could be a difficult burden to bear. As Cheisha, they were more Cimmerian than Enchel. Most of them didn't even know much of their own culture or their people's religious practices. They were far removed from their roots, and they had to chose; bow before Ocirrion, or wallow forever in the filth below.

No one questioned if Ocirrion himself was real. It wasn't a matter of religious dispute. Cimmerian's worshipped machines, and their machine-god was a real as the rifle in his hand powered by his light. Between the Cheisha and the Cims, their minds were far too alike. They easily understood the technical, the physical... the machines. It was more difficult trying to convince a Cheisha that something as formless and abstract as the Madda could exist. Whereas, there was no question that Ocirrion did protect them against their enemies. His armor, his force-barriers and kinetic fields warded away the bolts, bullets and spears of those who sought to kill them. However, unlike most, Fredrik knew the Madda was real. He could feel it... stronger than the rest.

Melotte County. It was a famous corner of the empire. The production of fuels and other processed materials from its refineries powered the industrial cities scattered across the south. Traditionally Melotte was free from the threats which terrorized the rest of the southern regions, or the western territories which were constantly embattled with hostile nations. While still quite far, it was the closest of the southern populations to the proper empire. In terms of population, less than twenty-percent actually lived on the other side of the Golden Wall. Melotte, a relatively peaceful southern county, was a massive territory with only slightly less inhabitants than the entirety of all the northern territories combined. A significant portion of the south's strength stemmed from here. Numerous militia groups worked to protect the populated areas, however the Iron Scripture, who ruled the county, also allowed for the creation of the Vanguard Corps., to encourage further measures to secure stability in their territory.

Vanguards were mercenaries employed through the Corps, which any person could employ. The nomination of a new Vanguard was a serious matter, which the Corps were responsible for vetting. The Vanguard Corps was directly responsible for the behavior of their mercenaries, and so poor conduct could reflect badly on them with the Scripture. Therefore, the organization imposed its own series of rules and an extensive screening process. Those who received a nomination begun a two year apprenticeship, where they were rigorously trained. Apprentices had to work in pairs with a veteran Vanguard and could still be dismissed if they were deemed 'unfit'. Many Enchel people looking to make something of themselves without having to live under the empire's thumb also chose this profession. From what Fredrik understood, the territory leading to Kelpis was also smothered in smog and ash from Yelnne's factories and coking ovens. The ash was rumored to choke the very sunlight from the sky... and looking up at the quickly diminishing light, it didn't seem like an exaggeration. [Fredrik | Knowledge (Local) - Partial]

Being able to sense the Madda was both a blessing, and a curse that dulled the senses. Much like now. Fredrik could feel some subtle eerie shift. Something he couldn't quite describe, but the knowing it was there. A sense like remembering he had forgotten something terribly important, but struggled to recall just what it was. His eyes shifted from one side of the bus to the other, trying to make out what he could in the fastly fading light. His gaze moved between the backs of dozens of heads, then back again. He looked over the bus twice, then something held his attention. It hadn't been there before. [Fredrik | Sense Madda]

There was a row of pale empty seats. Their lack of color stood out sharply from the rest of the near-black burgundy covers which lined the rest of the vehicle's furniture. The seats themselves were facing the wrong way with their backs towards the driver. It was as if his eyes had met some splinter revealing a small glimpse at some mirrored world. A woman sat there, draped in the robed regalia of the Ko’Dhela... but it was all wrong. The marks of the patterns of the ancestors were there, but as black lines traced like strings of ink on parchment. Without vibrance. Without life. Her hands held a small book, flipping a page occasionally. Its body, like her hands, were like two-dimensional lines; colorless and without depth. Flickering by on some reel of cosmic film, from so very far away. Then, she paused. Their eyes met.

Racing. Suddenly and without warning, the crack widened and her eyes ran dark. Black featureless pools reflecting some void once named by the ancients. The colorless swath spilled out from the crack, stealing the light from the seats nearest, like claws climbing out from the abyss towards him, inching closer. Slowly, she raised a hand, pointing behind without looking. Towards the fore of the vehicle from where Sister Yelena removed herself. The pressure in his ears began to mount. A crushing constraint pressing down upon his skull. Then he understood what she had meant to tell him... Two Accusers! [Fredrik | Perception - Partial]

Kædda hurriedly scrambled over Ulapis who had been sitting beside him, over another of the seating dividers, and swatted Fredrik in the face before tumbling over and into his seat. Gasping, Fredrik realized he hadn't been breathing. The blood running from one of his nostrils wasn't from Cade's hasty blow. The small boy straddled him in the seat, grabbing him by the collar of his uniform, “They showed you... What did they reveal?” He shook Fredrik roughly, “Where are we going!?”

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[forg99rules]

Over the years Fredrik has mostly gotten used to the strange feeling that came when he sensed the Madda, the dulling of his senses was still an annoyance though as it made him feel a bit vulnerable. In his profession, it was not a good thing to have one's senses dulled or to be distracted by an odd feeling of something out of place. If it came at the wrong time in the wrong place it could lead to death very swiftly, either by causing you to miss something that should have been obvious or causing you to be drawn away from your group as you try and search for what the cause was. In the current situation, Fredrik just let it flow and used it to try and find what Cade had been worried about.

As his gaze fell upon the odd row of seats Fredrik was unsure what was going on, he was seeing something that did not make sense and racked his brain trying to fill the gap. The woman he saw seemed real but at the same time was obviously not, the black lines, the lack of depth, and the missing color all just seemed odd. As his eyes met the woman’s, he could feel his pulse quicken, a visceral response to the scene unfolding before his eyes. The void that reached out snatching the light around it creeping closer to him was a cause for worry, yet he could not break himself from it. Seeing the woman point towards the front of the vehicle he slowly turned his gaze, ignoring the pressure that was building in his head unsure of the cause. It clicked, the Two Accusers were the odd ones out, why were there two and why were they here.

A sudden stinging sensation in his face and a popping sensation from his ears brought him back from whatever vision he was having. His eyes darted around in confusion as his pulse was still beating rapidly, Gasping for breath he took a moment to gather his surroundings. The feeling of blood running from his nose caused him a moment of pause before he took note of several eyes on him. The feeling of pressure on his lap and the pulling of his uniform brought his eyes down to the boy that was straddling him. Cades questions stunned him for a second more before he was shook and his instincts took over. “I... I am not sure, I don’t even know exactly what just happened… Or who that woman was.” His eyes turned towards the location of the Accusers, “But the Two Accusers upfront might have the answer as to where we are heading.”





Knowledge Religion - [roll0] - Information on what just happened to Fredrik
Knowledge Local - [roll1] - Information on what Fredrik knows regarding Accusers

[Mornings]

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[Mission Time: 13:57 ▓]

Machinations of Fal. They were sweet, dreadful things created by the Chezesh to misguide the faithful away from Ocirrion. Their workings were not understood by most and their research was explicitly restricted to a handful of Cimmerian Researchers and Scholars from the Central Labs. Despite this, some Machinations were so infamous, that at least some rumored features were commonly spoken of. Machinations like the TARS.

As their true nature was unknown, researches identified these threats under the identifier of 'techno-artificial reconnaissance and strike' systems, or TARS for short. Too dangerous to be allowed outside the capital, these devices were sealed away by the Ories when captured. Outwardly, these creations often appeared to be unusual assemblies of mechanical pieces fitted together. Bound with metal cordage and plates manufactured from some manner of unknown alloy. Often appearing in the shapes of animals, insects or even more conventional vehicles, these weapon systems could possess any number of armaments capable of disintegrating fortifications and soldiers alike. From what was understood, each was also capable of flight from any position on land, utilizing an undiscovered manner of rocket-propulsion technology. Both land and aerial movement of a TARS was shockingly quick and had been used extensively by Nѐthtian soldiers to establish superior maneuverability over traditional forces. Due to their threat, TARS could usually only be contested by Imperial Mechanicum Armaments, the giant humanoid weapon systems piloted by the empire's most elite soldier's.

TEMPLE did not allow the destruction of TARS unless the necessity was born from a risk posed to the faith. Life or death conflict with a hostile TARS did not justify its destruction. The capture of these devices was typically more important than any number of common soldiers, but less so than preserving the blessed Mechanicum Armaments bequeathed upon them from the Red Eyes. Supposedly the TARS possessed a sentience and could be redeemed in the light of Ocirrion. Some said the things had been led astray by foreigners or the Chezesh. Other believed it was a madness brought on after having lost his blessing for far too long. Regardless what the truth actually was, it was now a resource critical to seeing his mission to success, and while he had never heard of anyone capable of operating such monstrosities among the Imperial Army, it was certainly a pleasant surprise he could leverage in his favor. [Carver | Knowledge (Engineering) - Success]


Cenriel covered he mouth with one hand and tried to stifle her soft giggle. “Yes. I imagined you might. So I saw that Lieutenant Starner would be able to provide you those details, personally. .” The Saintess gestured somewhat curtly with her chin to a Cimmerian woman waiting not far away. Lieutenant Starner was the acting commander of the 404th Rifle Company after its re-inception. While her rank as a Cimmerian officer within the Imperial Army was low, her position had risen to far higher than those senior officers holding a similar command. As the 201st's sole military arm, she had become a force to be reckoned with.... and now she somehow owned a TARS operator. The woman straightened the collar of her garnet colored coat as she made her approach. Cimmerian officers of significant position, like the lieutenant, often chose to wear their dress attire. This typically comprised of a buttoned undershirt, tie or tie-tab, breeches, boots and the blood-red double-breasted trench coat which highlighted their distinct position.

The Saintess pat the doctor on the shoulder, “You must remember, brother. One day, they...” The words were directed as the Cheisha of the 404 at the rear of the bus, clamoring and roughhousing with one another, “Will earn the right to receive Ocirrion's light, just like you and I... Then they will be people to. Treat them well, so that they might learn from your noble example.” Slowly rising from her seat she looked down upon him with a knowing smile, “...Or how else might you teach humanity, to an animal.” Her gaze was redirected at the Lieutenant who waited patiently at a position of parade rest. “Do make it quick Lieutenant. It's time for my brother to depart.” The officer sharply nodded, "Yes, ma'am."

The Lieutenant hastily handed him another small chip, which quickly disintegrated. "You have a flexible set of skills at your disposal, sir. I just wish I could have provided you more men..." Cenriel seemed to turn absentmindedly away to look at the window at the front of the bus, as if something had caught her attention. She spoke without looking back at either of them, almost dismissively, “Hm.. Yes. Apologize, brother... You'll only be taking two others with you. The rest will be accompanying me...” Three men on a venture through the south. It was something a Ranger might do, but certainly not an Accuser. The Claris Purity Arm wasn't a band of rugged men who lived in the dirt, they were scholarly minds. Certainly, if it hadn't been coming from the Saintess herself, he'd have every reason to be outraged. Carver's display updated with a list of proficiencies; they were certainly diverse.

[404 Certified Task Proficiencies.]
[Weapon Instructor.]
[Chief Training Planner.]
[Combat Operations Planner.]
[Drill Captain.]
[Explosive Ordinance Instructor.]
[Combat Engineer.]
[Grenadier.]
[Long-Range Reconnaissance.]
[Marksman, Certified Expert.]
[TARS Operations.]
[Tactical Driving Instructor. ▓]

“Here.” The bus came to a slow stop at the side of the road. The wind had begun to pick up strength. “It's time, brother. I hope you are prepared.” Cenriel's attention shifted back toward the pair as the vehicle's driver waited for further instructions. “The Station Master at Pendes will see you reach the TARS. Obviously, you will be in quite a difficult position should your operator not survive long enough to complete the venture. After you meet with your contact in Yelnne, you will accomplish your tasks there then rendezvous with us at Wainefil Observation Post. You will be able to renew your blessing in Yelnne's chapel before pressing forward to Wainefil. God is with you.” The Saintess gestured with a finger toward the woman to wrap it up, "That should do you, sir." The Lieutenant leaned forward, keeping her voice low as to not offend the Saintess, "Be quick out there, sir. Reports between here and Yelnne are incomplete, but certainly not good. I expect you'll meet heavy enemy resistance." The Saintess snapped her fingers impatiently, making the woman go rigid. "Apologize for the delay, ma'am."





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“...A woman?” The young man looked about bewildered. “I don't see anything, but I... somethin' felt strange...” The woman hadn't vanished, in fact, she was still there, though her figure and the crack was now much more faint. Once again she was paying them no mind, reading her white book. Fredrik had never experienced something like this before, but he had heard tales of Enchel who could see the many forms the Madda might take. There was even some who could interface with the Maalpha. While he had heard some of the tales, he hadn't truly taken the folk stories to heart. After all, he was a Cheisha and far removed from the mystical mumbo-jumbo of his tribal ancestors. It was perhaps the most over-told fairytale of their culture. Even Cimmerians were roughly familiar with it.

The Enchel called it the 'way of madda'. A life-calling that each of them inherited by merit of simply being of the Enchel people. In their stories, the heretical-god of the Enchel, Achtpala created some manner of mystical training path called the Maddosi. Fredrik had no idea of what sort of duties that actually might have encompassed, or why it mattered, but apparently it was important to his ancestors. In this magical training, there was supposed to be a spirit which guided an Enchel warrior called a Maalpha. Of course, this had nothing to do with him as a Nárati-blooded mutt, but it was interesting. In the tales it was stated numerous times that the traditional clothing and patterns the Enchel wore were representations of the Maalpha, or were inspired by their attire. He had no reason to believe in things like ghosts, but these Maalpha were supposedly ethereal entities from another dimension known as the 'Afar'. As a man living in a nation, created by priests of a machine, manufactured by beings from another dimension... It seemed perfectly reasonable that there might also be some other realms like the Afar. He just didn't understand 'why now', and why... this? Supposedly an Enchel only saw one Maalpha. His personal guide on his mystical journey... and he was certainly not taking his own 'spirit-quest' on this bus. In fact... He was pretty sure it was forbidden for an Enchel to even ride a bus and his Maalpha would punish him for it. She flipped another page. [Fredrik | Knowledge (Religion) - Partial]

“Sheit... Accusers? ...Wait, are they from the same Arm?” Accusers were the agents of the Ories. None were equal, and none were of identical practice. The only similarity between them was that those who could operate in broad daylight, were of high religious standing, and thus an official body of the empire. Those who lived in the shadows were assassins, murders, thieves and the most hateful enemies. The so-called 'third arm of the empire'. These government-sponsored criminals would perform any and all tasks too profane, too violent, or simply too dirty for any official organization within the empire to openly associate with; but necessary for the continued function of the north. To men like them... To Cheisha, Accusers represented something like a 'secret police'. Many operated within the empire, solely to oppress the south and any span of the empire that wasn't the north. Supposedly there were other organizations which also functioned outside the country, but Cheisha weren't familiar with such things, nor was Fredrik. He wasn't even sure what purpose 'official' Accusers served, or what differentiated those Accusers who could not show their face versus those who could. To the third world citizens of the empire, they might have well all been the same. They were the empire's dirty secret. The thing no one spoke of, like the men they made disappear. When a man spoke out against the empire, it was an Accuser that removed him. In an sickening bit of irony, apparently they even referred to their own organizational chapters as an 'Arm'. It was like giving a lollipop to a child, and calling him a sucker. Killers and villains each, but even Fredrik knew it was odd to see two in the open... together.[Fredrik | Knowledge (Religion) - Failed]

“Ye... I think you're on to something. Sheit... It's too bad these guns don't work on Cims.” The Lieutenant begun making her way down the bus towards them. “Aw, sheit. Sheit. Sheit... The LT's about to start something.” Cade scrambled off and slunk under the seat out of the way. “Uhh... Why does she have to be hot, and such a betch?” Without pausing the woman stormed up to Fredrik, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him out of his seat. Boarishly, she shoved him down towards the front of the bus. "Congratulations, private. You've been tasked with protecting Accuser Carver on his mission." She shoved a digital display around his neck, letting the goggles dangle. [Fredrik | Acquired Item - Digital Display, Goggles]

The other members tried to suppress their laughter, both at the dainty woman trying to manhandle the tall soldier, and because Cade had started an inside joke about how much she hated Fredrik. Her glare quickly quieted them down, but Kædda's head popped up from behind the back of a seat like some manner of small ground-dwelling rodent, snorting behind his attempt to quiet his laughter. Spit ran out from between his fingers as he tried to stop laughing. The ridiculousness of it made his joke feel like some manner of self-fulfilling prophesy.

The woman shoved Fredrik all the way to the front of the bus, stopping in front of the Accuser. "Sir, this is your first escort. Private First Class, Fredrik. One of my most competent machine-gunners. More heavily armored than a standard rifleman, and trained with dyne weapons should you have the need to clear out hostile positions. Stay behind him. Point, and tell him where to shoot." It didn't take much for Fredrik to understand, Cade was right. They did get sold out, and he'd been promoted to 'human shield'. His life obviously wasn't worth much compared to the fancy Accuser. If he failed to protect him and the strangely masked man was killed, he was just as good as dead. Things suddenly started to look extremely dire.

After a moment, Cade shot up, standing on Fredrik's former seat and yelling across the vehicle, “Hey! Hey! Hey! I Thought you were joking! You can't seriously be sending one man out there to die! These are YOUR men, you frigid betch!” The Lieutenant didn't even flinch at the sudden outburst, obviously used to less-than-civil behavior from soldiers. Turning about with a crisp facing movement, the woman sharply retorted, "I have no intention to!" At that Kædda began to slink back, defused, as if he misunderstood the situation. Then she continued, barking out, "Because You're going with him!" The young man was in slack-jawed shock, eyes wide in disbelief.


“WHAT THE FAWK!?”


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[Chromascope3D]

"These hounds bay quite dreadfully, don't they..." Carver notes absentmindedly. If he was impressed by Fredrik's credentials and abilities, his actions certainly didn't show it, as he continued to parse through those documents, rather than acknowledge the man before him to whom they were attached. He had no need to question the soldier, if the Saintess had confidence in its ability to carry out its tasks, then he would as well. They needed only to be quick and silent, although it seemed they were already having trouble with such. He backs out of the file, returning to review the rest of the mission briefs, and in doing so, calls out, "I see that your hounds are spirited, Lieutenant, but they seem to lack discipline. I trust they know already that I tolerate far less disturbance. Should they make even half such an outburst while in the field then, I trust, they know that I will have no choice but to silence their baying myself. God will not tolerate out making a mockery of his will, and neither will I."

Carver turns back to St Cenriel, hands again clasped as he bows his head in piety, "I will make do with these gifts, my lady. Godspeed, and I will pray that your own escort's firepower will be more than sufficient to see your journey through to its end."

Gonna intimidate Cade :p

[roll0]

[forg99rules]

Fredrik's eyes kept turning back to the woman, he wondered why she had chosen now of all times to appear before him. If it had been back at the academy then he might have actually tried to do whatever the mystical training entailed, but here and now, it was not the greatest time to be dealing with this Maalpha. Of course, Fredrik remained wary of the woman, her motives were unknown to him and he had no idea if she was actually going to be of help or hindrance. Cade's question about the Accusers was confusing, Fredrik wouldn’t even know how to exactly differentiate one Accuser from another, much less what Arm they were a part of.

Cade's comment about the guns not working on Cims brought a slight chuckle out of him, the humor was short-lived though as he caught sight of the Lieutenant making her way towards them. A chuckle almost rose out of him again at Cade's reaction and comments about the Lieutenant but he had no time to really react as he was pulled from his seat and heard just how screwed he was about to be. He had no idea why the woman constantly picked on him, and even though Cade joked about how the woman hated him, he honestly felt that she tended to try and make him suffer more than the others in the 404. He felt this even more now that he had been chosen for protecting this Accuser on whatever mission the man had been assigned to complete. Sparing a glance back towards the Maalpha woman, he wondered briefly if she was gonna end up following him on his new task or if she would just disappear once he got off the bus.

Stopping in front of the Accuser he reached up to the goggles that were dangling from his neck, putting the goggles and wiping the blood from under his nose he quickly gave the Accuser a once over to determine just how ****ed he might be. Hearing Cade’s outburst brought a slight smile to his face, “at least someone has some common sense and was willing to call it out”, he briefly hoped that the Lieutenant would listen to Cade and at least send a few of the others with him for this escort mission. The Lieutenant's response though was most surprising, they were sending Cade with him on this death sentence. “Looks like we're both Fawked Cade, seems Misery really does like company.”

Turning his attention back to the Accuser he was again reminded why he didn’t like the Cims, he of course had been called worse than a Hound by a Cim and even had been attacked several times for just existing in the same room. Still, the Accuser's actions and words spoke to length about where he stood in regards to anyone that was not a Cim and it brought Fredrik's mind back to Cade’s earlier comment, “I really wish these guns worked on Cims.”





Italic is Fredriks thoughts, not anything he is saying outloud

Perception Check - [roll0] - Keeping an eye on the Maalpha to see if there is any sort of change
Perception Check - [roll1] - Trying to see what sort of equipment Carver has so that I know what I am dealing with
Sense Motive Check - [roll2] - Wanting to gauge if Carver really is as Racist as Fredrik fears or if it might be just an act for the saintess

[Mornings]

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[Mission Time: 13:55 ▓]

Anton Carver had seen his fair share of things in his time, but he'd never seen such an outspoken Cheisha. After all, they were mere fodder serving as Imperial Forces to claw their way up to a point where they might be worthy of earning Cimmerian citizenship. When a Cheisha soldier got out of line, you simply dragged him out in front of his peers, and shot him in the back of the head. It was a simple an effective way of setting an example and crushing any unsavory thoughts. The Imperial Army was quite fervent when it came to snuffing out even the mildest sense of contention. Be it a look. A snarky tone... anything that might even suggest resistance to the military law was at a minimum, grounds to be flogged. Now here stood such a soldier, standing atop a seat for all to see and daring to raise his voice? “I AINT GOIN' ANYWHERE NEAR THAT FREAKSHOW!” The riflemen of the 404 nearly burst into laughter, but wisely withheld the outburst, understanding the gravity of the predicament. Carver's Cimmerian sensibilities couldn't fully process what exactly he was witnessing. By all accounts, they were already beyond merely trading words and the little sod should have just been gunned down immediately. The circumstances made his words seem to fall flat. Perhaps as someone overly dismissive and aloof, or subtly subversive to core Cimmerian values. In the capital, such a rare circumstance posed a threat to all who witnessed it. Anyone failing to display proper Cimmerian etiquette especially in the face of such blatant disrespectful defiance would at the very least be severely penalized, docking their social score considerably. Or worse, judgement under a Justice of the Illuminated Scripture. [Carver | Intimidate - Failure]

Most of the Duty personnel had been trying to sleep after the long hours on the road, and the hard work ahead. The shouting and noise about was beginning to rouse some from their sleep. Fredrik had been with the 404 for some years now, and he learned that Cade had always been a short fuse, but he always grit his teeth and weathered the storm. It was a stark contrast to the young man he knew. His lines about their abuse had become like catch phrases in their unit; "Suck it up, buttercup!" This was not that man. He hadn't been pushed too far, or simply 'lost it.' No. This was intentional, methodical. He had a reason for choosing right now to make a stand. Fredrik just couldn't understand just what it might be that gave him such confidence. Quickly looking between them, he took quick stock of the Accuser; measuring him up. He was certainly Cimmerian; not in the pleasant way. The man held no value for the lives of lesser races, but seemed to have some difficulty understanding the situation unfolding before him; like all of them. The Accuser possessed numerous expensive items; diagnostic equipment, pressurized containment suit, breathing system and various technological tools which could easily function as weapons. He certainly wasn't outfitted for battle, but could function in a fight with his hazardous scientific equipment. [Fredrik | Perception & Sense Motive - Partial]

The Lieutenant's face had turned beet red and her glasses begun to fog on her face, caught in equal parts rage and embarrassment. "I assure you, sir. This is not standard behavior. Were he not your TARS operator, I would have already put him to justice!" With a ridiculous gesture Kædda threw back his head and laughed loudly, before sharply snapping a tenacious glare in their direction and spitting on the floor. “What a load of crap, you aint doin' sheit! ...And who said I could work a TARS? I never said I could do that!” Fredrik felt a prong of hope in his heart, evidently so did the rest of the troupe as a light crossed their faces hearing their leader could operate a TARS. Then he casually discarded it. It would have made his sudden bout of madness make sense. It was a massive card to play. The only known operator serving in the empire? He would have been untouchable. It was such a big deal, he likely could have leveraged that alone for his citizenship. It almost begged the question; "why wouldn't he, if he was?" “...No. I did. You have piloted a TARS before, Specialist Kædda.”

“THAT WAS ONE TIME!” The whole bus was awake now, or being woken by their peers. The Saintess's interjection was seemingly unexpected, as she turned about to face the sea of eyes and the rowdy soldier at the rear. Sister Yulena also came to from her meditations, rising to stand beside the group. Emboldened, Lieutenant Starner pointed out across the vehicle speaking out with authority and a commanding voice, a shining beacon of a Cimmerian leader, "SPECIALIST, RECIEVE YOUR ORDERS! YOU ARE CHARGED WITH THE ESCORT AND TRANSPORTATION OF ACCUSER CARVER TO THE CITY OF YELNNE. IN LIGHT OF YOUR UNIQUE ABILITIES, YOUR CONDUCT IS EXCUSED - THIS ONE TIME! NOW DISMOUNT THE VEHICLE!" It was easy to tell the Lieutenant was proud of her speech. The Priestess and even Cenriel gave an approving nod, a few passengers even clapped. The company riflemen shrugged, it was a good speech and defused the situation. It also allowed the empire to save face and provided more leniency than each of them knew he deserved. 'CLINK.'

All eyes rotated to the rear. The rack of an abrasive wheel of flint sounded as Kædda paused, leaning against the wall where Fredrik had previously sat, lighting a cigarette. A long moment of stunned silence. The smuggling of illicit goods, especially Talasian drugs into Cimmeria was an act carrying a minimum sentence of twenty years Penance for any citizen. Twenty years as a criminal slave. For a soldier, Cimmerian or not, you would likely be put to death, least your House could afford the absurd cost of life-bonds to opt for a stay of execution. He took a draft from the cigarette, its end flaring to life like a spark in the night as the last lights from the sun were drowned out behind dark clouds. Most of the riflemen hunched over, mouth agape, stunned. None of them had even seen a cigarette in real life before, but the imagery of wafting Talsin-smoke from a grey-haired warrior was deeply engrained in their psyche. Harkening back before the days of the state of Talas. When Talsis reigned. It still shaped culture in Talas today. It was primal. It was elemental. It was Nára.

The fighting men of the 404 could only stop and wonder who this short would-be badass was, it surely wasn't the Kædda they knew. Slowly he sauntered down from the seat into the aisle. “Not bad, L.T.... But who the hell are you supposed to be anyways?” The second part was directed towards the Saintess, who still retained her composure and managed a soft smile. “...Ah, I apologize. Perhaps you would better understand if you knew. I am god's-” Cade sharply interjected, cutting off the Saintess's introduction, “-Yeah. Sorry, don't care that much.” An audible gasp escaped from the Lieutenant and the onlookers. At that disastrous retort, Sister Yulena's patience had run out. “YOU PUTRID CUR! YOU DARE BISMERCH THE SAINTESS' MERCY!? THEN YOU WILL KNEEL AND ACCEPT MINE!” The priestess grasped the golden hilt of her sacred relic, half drawing the massive blade, shedding flickers of gleaming light through the bus. Saintess!? Fredrik felt his stomach drop. Kædda might have been able to get away with a lot of things, but not insulting a Saint. The gazes shifted in silence, from one side of the bus to the other, like spectators to some grand drama, and a cold chill ran down Fredrik's spine as his gaze met Cade's. He was unmoved.

Casually, he exhaled a gout of smog from between his teeth. The dancing wisps tumbled across the thin rays of golden light cutting through the darkness. He pulled the cigarette from his lips and held it between his thumb and middle-finger, palm facing the sky. “Nah... Not today. We're done with that... Done with this bullsheit. Done pretending we're happy when you tell us to die. Done being an object. Done with you treating us like we lack humanity. Done with living as animals and working as slaves. Done with your fantasy-made-up-joke of a government..." Howling in a fit of blind rage, the priestess snapped out her weapon, flooding the interior with gleaming rays of light. “I WILL CAST YOU UNTO HIS GEARS! I REVOKE YOUR RITE!” With that, the stream of glinting misty energy dissipated from all the riflemen, including Fredrik. His alarm was immediate. Cenriel sighed, both bothered and irritated by the disturbance to her schedule. “...How unfortunate.” A slight gesture, was all the priestess needed to understand; the collar was off.

Jabari, surprised, stood and sent the bolt forward on his weapon. The soft hiss of the stone rifle's plasma cutter shaping rough stone into a round made him cough in surprise, not expecting his weapon to still function. The woman in white had risen from her seat, moving to the rear like a cut piece of film leaking out across the physical world, flickering in and out of existence. Slowly, she looked out the backmost window of the rear emergency exit door, somewhere into the sky. Kædda flicked his cigarette across the aisle at the priestess, who had paused when she noticed the men's still functioning weapons. “There is a god... and it's not a machine!” Sweeping back the folds of his long tribal wear, he revealed two holsters holding a pair of gold-plated Erg machine-pistols. Jabari and the lieutenant reacted at the same time. [Fredrik | Perception - Success]

“Oh, sheit!”
"Oh, sheit..."

Kædda's gloved hands hovered above the weapon's stock, ready to draw, “Bring it, betch.” The bus exploded into a panic, researchers and medical technicians screaming and climbing over one another to get out of the way. Cimmerian weapons couldn't kill a Cimmerian, though they could ruin a perfectly good bus. With the exception of Erg-pistols. Erg weapons were an ancient technology not passed unto them by Ocirrion, but directly from the Ascendants to the Nárati. The weapons were energized by the same powers which fueled their other weapons, but it did not come with the same safeties as those offered by Ocirrion's own creations. In the hands of the Nára, it became a terrifying mass-casualty weapon capable of killing any number of Cimmerians. Fortunately, there was very few of them, and they could be strictly controlled. No Nára would ever be allowed to wield such a weapon in Cimmeria. The Talsin rebellions had engraved a deep and well-deserved fear of these weapons when in the wrong hands. That terror had created a certain prestige, making these weapons posh pieces of jewelry carried by the fabulously rich and powerful. As Erg bullets had not been produced in perhaps a dozen centuries, they were irreplaceable, turning the weapons more into a badge than a means of combat; but Cade's weapons were loaded.

Chaos. “LIGHT 'EM UP!” With functional weapons, the imperial soldier's stood, readying to fire. Deafening. Screaming and motion. People tumbled and crawled over one another as their frantic cries choked the air. Sister Yulena tried to force her way through as Lieutenant Starner produced her sidearm and shoved it into Fredrik's side with a dangerous look in her eye, "Don't even think about it..." Rebellion. It was the beginning of an open rebellion against the empire. Mere moment's before all hell would be unleashed. Then...


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"That's enough of that...

All was still, and quiet.

A shudder ran though their world. Like a tremor that reverberated through their very consciousness. Like thought itself had been given pause. The clutter of bodies and men were gone. Simply. Utterly, and without reason. Fredrik blinked. The sense he felt was indescribable. Overwhelming. If his sense of the Madda was like feeling water, or the presence in the air before a rain... He was now being dragged into the murky abyss in some ocean chasm. His mind couldn't comprehend the weight in an intelligible way. There was no words. No physical sense which existed by which he might describe it. Only the choking weight. He could not even draw breath. There. Where the pale woman had once been, far behind them all, she stood. Sharp violet eyes, with a certain uncaring gaze. Greyish-silver hair, and a tie-die cosmic cat-print shirt. Fredrik felt his blood run cold.

Most Ascendants were not very active or present within the mortal dimensions, but some were. They all knew who she was. Carver could feel his body seize, refusing to draw breath. Each day he was bathed in Ocirrion's grace, he was touched by divinity. Yet, he had never directly been in the presence of a god before. Like all men, he had no desire for it to be a deity of death. She Who Spoke of Endings. Her very name was a tumultuous blight. Merely speaking it could incite chaos or a tortuous demise. A prophetic being who saw every life-story's conclusion. Strangely, her physical appearance was shockingly identical to an ancient pure-blooded Nárati. Many of the Ascendants were of races unseen in the world, while other's evidently were. This led to the belief that all people were descendants of the Ascended, or made in their image. A great deal of them seemed to have favorites and not treat mortals equally. “B-But...”

Cade couldn't turn around to face her, but he mustered enough strength to force out the air from his lungs and form a word. "I changed my mind." The Ascendant shoved him aside where he tumbled through the floor of the bus as if it were made of nothing more than mist. Strutting down the aisle, she pushed Yulena aside and similarly tossed the Accuser through the floor. "You've wasted my time, Cenriel. It's time to go." The Saintess, unable to find the words, gave a small nod. The unpleasant goddess's steely gaze rolled over to Fredrik. The energy made him cringe, “I saw you peaking...” She leaned forward, equally playful and menacing, “Will you find a better end in that white-place?” Leaving the question to dangle in his thoughts, she shoved him away.


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Tumbling. Rolling through banks of fog and mist, something shifted. Something changed. Each of the three men found themselves on the broken asphalt and dirt of the road. The dimming light of sunshine flaring out to kiss their faces. In the distance the white bus of the Duty drove off, leaving them their outside. Jabari waved from the read door as they departed. She'd changed it. Arranged a course of event's in the manner of her preference. A dreadful sense of powerlessness hung overhead. It was as if all the choices they had made were simply ignored by the world and overwritten. Cade clutched his head silently, but his internal screaming was palpable.

Slowly, begrudgingly he slid on a pair of digital displays on his face. With a soft beep the internal system updated each of their visors.


[Mission Time: 13:59 ▓]




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[Chromascope3D]

Four minutes. Interesting. Carver glances over at the men. He had been stunned, truly, by the soldier's vulgarity, and himself came within inches of silencing the base creature himself, but, he knew better. He had known many men to blaspheme the Saintess and every one of them he had personally tried for heresy, and yet, for something to do the same directly to her? The doctor learned long ago that she was more than capable of passing judgement herself, and if she did not see fit to disintegrate the beast upon the moment that first foul word escaped his wretched lips then it would not have been his place to execute him in her stead. Leaving aside the insults to his own person, the creature called Cade was a rare and valuable specimen, he knew. It's protestations had revealed information that Carver found intriguing. It had only piloted the machine once, but considering how many had failed to even initiate contact with TARS, to even be able to turn it on was a remarkable feat in its own right. Carver could not help but explore the reasoning for this. Genetics, perhaps? That could also explain its death drive attempt to make an enemy of the single most powerful living entity in the Empire. Assuming that the beast named Cade would not be put down for apostasy upon their return, or else its mind not hollowed out and made into a toy soldier, perhaps he would use his authority to spare the wretch and use it for his own research. His thumb and forefinger twitched at this thought.

Four minutes.

Well, the creature knew well now that there were times and fates that one could not defy, perhaps it would be more pliant to commands, and if not... Perhaps its fellow would keep it in line. There was no more time to waste. Boots crunching in the gravel, the inquisitor said only, "Come come," before setting off down the road.

[forg99rules]

Fredrik kept his expression blank as best he could, though he was confused as to why Cade had decided to make his stand at this moment instead of at any of the previous times that they have had to deal with the sheit thrown at them. Hearing that Cade was a TARS operator was even more surprising as he thought that something so interesting would have been mentioned at some point during the years of service alongside Cade. As the Lieutenant gave her short speech, even Fredrik was a bit impressed, It gave the empire an out while still allowing Cade an out as well. Fredrik’s eyes, like most, were focused on the Lieutenant, they quickly shifted to Cade as he heard the familiar flick of a lighter. Fredrik's jaw nearly hit the floor at the scene before him, Cade had lit a cigarette, no less he had lit it in front of everyone on the bus. Quickly collecting himself he began to assess the situation, Cade was openly defying the Empire, Fredrik knew the man wasn’t stupid so he must have had a plan for the situation. As the conversation escalated and the energy dissipated from all the riflemen, Fredrik’s eyes found the woman looking out the back of the window. A brief wonder of what exactly she was doing was drowned out as Cade revealed the two Erg Machine-pistols on his person. As the bus burst into chaos Fredrik was not surprised to find the Lieutenants sidearm stuck into his side, it of course was a logical decision as Fredrik had started slowly reaching back for his own weapon at the time.

As the shudder went through the world, Fredrik failed to comprehend just what his senses were telling him. The weight from the woman’s presence was unimaginable and he dreaded the headache that would come afterward. He of course, like everyone, wished it wasn’t her here. Though he was also wondering why he had been able to see her this entire time when others could not. As the Ascendant made her way forward, Fredrik could only watch in awe as Cade and the Accuser were shoved through the floor. As the Ascendant’s gaze fell upon him, Fredrik tried his best to stay conscious as black spots started filling his vision. He couldn’t comprehend exactly what the woman meant before she shoved him away.

Finding himself on the broken road brought forth more questions to his mind. The feeling of something being different was heavy in the air as he watched the bus drive off. Turning towards Cade, “I have no idea what exactly just happened… Though I am a bit surprised that the woman I saw was her, even more, that she chose to actually speak directly to me… I assume you have some sort of idea… Well, I don’t exactly know how you want to proceed further. Though no matter what decision you make, I will fully support it… Especially after what happened back there. I actually have a lot of questions about what transpired but I feel like now is really not the place to be asking them.” Fredrik’s eyes turned to the Accuser as the man chose to just casually start making his way down the road, the fact that the Accuser called after them as if they were some dogs that were to heed his command. Fredrik’s eyes flicked back to Cade, “What’s the call?”





Not sure which of these the roll would be... so here is both lol
Know Religion: [roll0] - Information on Cas'haphel if possible...
Know Local: [roll1] - Information on Cas'haphel if possible...

[Mornings]

https://images2.imgbox.com/6a/18/u6IHDlOe_o.png


https://images2.imgbox.com/4b/88/WVHFp7kp_o.png

[Mission Time: 13:58 ▓]
Kædda spent a moment in the broken gravel and dirt, motionless, as if refusing to pull himself up from the ground. As Dr. Carver spoke and begun to move off, he was unresponsive. His eyes looked down, off into something beyond while his lips moved silently as if speaking to himself, or attempting to process the situation. Fredrik's voice did little to draw his attention. After a long pause, the little man punched the ground, his gloved knuckles sounding off the asphalt with a dense 'thump'. “...What the fawk are you talking about?”

Pulling himself from the dilapidated road, he begun to glance around as if searching for something. “Ascendents aren't Ceshvalde, or some kind of spirit. They have nothing to do with the Madda. Well... I guess, that might not be completely true for 'her', as Nára. But Nára and Enchel are not the same, and their connection to the Madda has always been distant or misguided.” The short man begun to pace about, until stopping at a pile of rubble. Long twisting lengths of rebar and mangled cement leered out like rotten roots from the mound. Fredrik realized Cade didn't have the equipment he had brought on the bus with him.

“They might be Gods, but the Otherworld from where they come must not be too different from the world we know. They're physical beings after all, divine or not. That's why it's easy for the simple-minded Cims to understand that much.” He picked up a long lead pipe from the ground and slammed one end into a space in the mound, leaning into it as a lever. Eventually he simply pushed himself up on it, completely suspended from the ground. “Umph. The Madda isn't so simple. Few things which dwell in the Afar are material, or 'real', as we understand it...” Finally the lever slowly lowered him to the ground as a large broken cement block tumbled away, reveling a cache of sorts. Covered in dust and soot, as if it had been buried there months ago was one of Kædda's self-titled 'fun-bags'; a tactical ruck which he used to transport explosives and ammunition. In addition to that was a brace of holstered Erg pistols and a non-standared, heavily modified stone-rifle... Cade's old gun.

Fredrik distinctly recalled how he heard Kædda's old rifle was supposedly lost or destroyed during a brief escort during their stay in Telve. Personal arms were an irreplacible tool for a Cheisha soldier. “We each experience the Madda differently. How it manifests and the signs we see, are only the signs meant for us; no other. Whatever you saw, only you could see. But it was not 'her'.” With a quick motion he lashed on the holsters beneath his outter uniform garments. Sliding out the pistols, he positioned the weapons pointed toward one another, then with a twist made their chamber release-pins kiss, causing both weapons to tilt out their revolving chamber's. Eighteen rounds each. The glowing primers of the ammunition softly hummed with tremendous energy. Fredrik had never even seen one Erg bullet before, let alone thirty-six. It was perhaps more bullets than could be found in any local museum Destructive weapons whose munitions had not been produced in over a thousand years; long before Cimmeria was even a thought.

With a flick, the cylindrical chambers slammed closed in the weapons, and he holstered them with an almost practied spinning flourish. “I left these here last time... 'She' told me to. I was hoping I wouldn't ever come back for it.” Grabbing his rifle, he performed a quick operations check. Cycling the weapon a few times to make sure it was working, he chambered a round. Throwing on his bandoleer, he fixed his rifle sling to a retention point on the garment. Finally he took a quick inventory of his bag before throwing it over one shoulder. He Yelled out after the Accuser, 'HEY, FREAKSHOW! GET OFF THE ROAD! WE MINED IT LAST WEEK!”

Digging into his service-jacket's inside pocket, he pulled out a crude map penciled in on a dirty cloth. “Kay, listen up. 'She' fawked up her own plan and sent us back... not 'back-back', but 'back'. To the 'end' where I left these pistols here, and didn't fawk those Cims on the bus. No point explainin' to a Cim when they can't understand anything that dun' operate without batteries. I didn't mine the road there, but we did 'here'. Jabari got killed by Ashen in Kelpis. We barely lost them at an outpost and mined the whooole fawkin' way back just to keep them off. That, and stop them from runnin' us down all the way to the Gold Wall. No Cim is gonna drop the door for a Cheisha being chased by freaks. Doubt he's dead this time around though...” Sometimes it was difficult to understand Kædda when his Glendis accent bled out, but it was even more challenging trying to keep pace with what he explained now.

Fredrik was not as versed in Enchel folklore as Cade, few Cheisha were, but he did know something about Ascendant's. They were like the burning stars streaking across the sky of their world, giving it hope, meaning and guidance. Deities descended from the Otherworld to fulfill a task in this one. At times they could guide the founding of a nation, like Claria. Other times, they could create something which would change the course of history for life on the planet, like the machine-god, Ocirrion. Yet, not every encounter was quite so easy to interpret, or so grand of scale.
Ascendants did not meddle in individual lives. Such was the general understanding of things, but not all Ascendants followed the rules or logic as it was delivered to mortal ears. Some outliers existed. Being moved by divine and unintelligible mechanisms of the cosmos. She Who Spoke of Endings was one such deity. While almost unanimously believed to be the progenitor of the Nára, no answer regarding any such question has ever been directly provided by Cas'haphel. At least, not in any manner which a mortal might definitively interpret. No clear explanation existed as to just what role she played in the grand scheme of the universe, but it was at least understood she was not a goddess of proverbial 'death'. The 'Endings' which she spoke of and witnessed, were somehow conclusions to some such sequence or event. Regardless if the participants of such an encounter were even aware of the event in which they contributed toward ending, it was just the same to her.

Ultimately, it was not that the intervention of Ascendants was uncommon, but that it was only done by a small number of them. Though, where one arrived, so too might another, making their presence troublesome. In the case of She Who Spoke of Endings, she was perhaps the most meddlesome god there was. Seemingly poking her nose in matters for unexplainable reasons at the most inappropriate times. Some theorized that She sought out and corrected matters which created ripples that threatened the future. Others believed she guided mortals to their destiny. No common explanation could properly justify many of her actions. The Cheisha tried their best to give reason as well, but it was only the muddled rehashing of ancient tales told by modern youth who did not understand them. The Enchel teachings were far too complex to be grasped without having been raised amid that environment. Fredrik had little in terms of credible information, but from the rumors, she could even change the entire course of someone's life, to make them relive it all for a single choice or moment... again-and-again, until she was satisfied. It was impossible to truly know. [Fredrik | Knowledge (Religion) - Failure]

"Stupid girl want's us to drag-along, Freakshow. Fine. We'll drop his happy-arse in Yelnne. After that it's straight to El'Mas, fawk this other nonsense. I know'a silly sod out there that can get us a ride straight to O'Kaas. We sell the plans of dear-Yulena to some Nѐthtian swine in the Free States, and that's our ticket to the easy life outta here. Let's see what Mother Eurita thinks about that.”

With that, Cade turned on his heel with a fat grin plastered across his face.
After what they'd already been through, what was a little treason.




Ͽ ◯ Ͼ


[Mission Time: 13:33 ▓]
“FAWKING, FAWK. I HATE THIS SHEIT!” Kædda's screaming complaints were drowned out by the howling wind and biting stone shards caried in the air. The mirth from a dozen minutes ago had all but left them. Cade had warned them of the inevitible storms approaching as they walked down the side of the Kelpis Road, being sure to stay off the broken street. The flame-scarres from numerous explosions were mines had detonated were plainly evident, but no evidence of a body from whatever had set it off was visible.

The short man had covered his lower face in his tribal shawl and firmly placed his goggles over his eyes so that he could see. The wind buffeted them mercilessly as they pressed forward. The weather had significantly slowed their venture. The sky was blacked out by dark clouds and the lightless path was barely illuminated by an electric lantern Cade fixed to his bag. “WE'RE GETTING CLOSE TO THE OLD PITS! WATCH FOR ASHSTORMS! YOU DONT WANT TO GET CAUGHT IN ONE'A THOSE!”



[KELPIS BREEZE]
The winds on the Kelpis Road are famous for their unpleasant wind shears, poor visibility, and choking air. Traveling unprepared can be hazardous.

Howling Wind - You can only hear speech shouted by others within 15 ft normally. Perception checks within 15 ft suffer a -15 circumstance penalty, checks beyond this instead suffer a -25 penalty. Creatures without any eyewear to protect their eyes cannot see at all.

Choking Air - The air is littered with sediment and bits from the ruins of destroyed factories and processing facilities. Each round you must succeed a DC 12 fortitude save, on success this save's DC increases by 2. Upon failure, you suffer 1d6 points of non-lethal damage and the DC of this condition is reset to 12. Using a face coverings grants some protection and provides a +6 circumstance bonus to these saves. Filter masks negate this effect entirely but consume filter time faster than normal.
Limited Visibility - Visibility is reduced to a maximum of 90 ft due to the chaotic weather conditions.

Artificial Night - The clouds of smog from the refineries close to Yelnne create a perpetual night. This artificial environment reduces all natural sources of daytime light to dim-light. The concentration of the smog grows during storms and the closer to Yelnne a person gets.




https://images2.imgbox.com/38/10/TVtFhpsQ_o.png

[Chromascope3D]

The sound of the filter suckling air from the grit and ash was loud in his enclosed suit, but at least he could barely feel the biting winds. Air pressure pushed against him, certainly, and the low visibility made him choose his steps carefully, but Carver did not complain. His mind was focused elsewhere. The doctor was a man of bottomless patience, but even the creature's constantly blaspheming tongue wore on him, and even the great doctor Anton Carver was beginning to grow annoyed. This beast had apparently never learned the myriad mental and physical health benefits of silent reflection, and it showed. That was unfortunate for it, as the doctor had a terrible habit of fixating all of his animosity upon a single person. Until that person was dead, or he was certain they could bother him no longer, they would consume all of his dark thoughts. His eyes traced up and down the cocksure character, wondering what he could diagnose. His plan would follow from there.

Carver will activate his filter mask for as long as they are in this dust storm. Gonna use Heal to Scout Cade for physical weaknesses
Heal (with -5 penalty) [roll0]
Sense Motive [roll1]

And some knowledge checks to gain insight into the surrounding regions and phenomena
Nature [roll2]
Engineering [roll3]

[forg99rules]

Fredrik was baffled by the information that Cade was talking about. None of it really made any sense to him, Cade said that it wasn’t Her that he had seen… Yet the Woman herself had stated that Fredrik had been peaking at her, it made no sense to him yet he was not going to argue with Cade. The man had proven multiple times to know more about the Mada and other beings than anyone else Fredrik had ever met. Turning to follow along behind Cade, he briefly wondered if they would actually be able to get to the Free States after this mission. As the wind picked up Fredrik made sure that he had his Filter Mask on standby before pulling the front of his shirt up to cover his mouth and nose. Heeding Cade’s warning, Fredrik kept his eyes peeled for whatever could be considered an Ashstorm as well he kept an eye out for anything else that might be in the area.





Fort Save: [roll0] - Minus 6 if the cloth from my shirt doesn't count as a face covering lol

Perception Check: [roll1] - keeping an eye out for Ashstorms or anything else

[Mornings]

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https://images2.imgbox.com/4b/88/WVHFp7kp_o.png


[Mission Time: 13:28 ▓]
Carver might have been an Accuser, but he was also a man of keen insight; or so he might like to believe. It did not require an investigator to understand that this soldier named Kædda, had no loyalty to the empire and no respect for god. In a way, this itself wasn't any kind of surprise. After all, it was taught by the Vested that the unblessed wallowed in the mires of ignorance and must be taught both discipline and love for god. Hence why they served in penance. This wasn't the same thing. While not a citizen of the empire, the short little Cheisha was technically a free subject of Cimmeria. A previledge which could quickly be taken away. For most, fear of losing what little rights they had was enough to keep most subjects in check. However, within the armed services of the empire, discipline was ruthless and capital. Merely being suspected of disloyalty to Ocirrion could be grounds for execution...

The Accuser couldn't wrap his head around it. The blatent disregard. Open and utter hostility towards the very foundation of what made the empire great. If a rifleman showed even a hint of such features, he would surely be put down publically as an example to the rest of them. Yet, here he was... somehow. Not only that, but apparently he had been in service for a considerable period of time. The rank on his uniform displayed he was the highest a Cheisha could be, and the various badges and accoutraments marked him as highly capable, and the most senior soldier. Considerable rank, highly decorated? None of these things happened if one behaved like an animal. A soldier didn't simply gain greater authority by simply idling for long enough, escpecially a Cheisha. This was doubly so when it came to training, and his impressive skillset seemed to contest his behavior, which remained, openly hostile still. It was as if this Nára-blooded dog was somehow possessed by something unseen and driven mad by it.

Now the little traitor seemed too valuable to dispose of for the 201st, at least for now, and that fact wasn't lost on that haunty mongral. Regardless of the circumstances, Carver couldn't begin to imagine just what circumstances had allowed for such a weed to grow into a rebellious tree like this. It was a threat to the institution that was the empire. However, all of that was not Carver's most immediate and pressing concern. While he was a doctor, he was an Accuser first. The Accuser for the 201st forward strike force, and prior to the Saintess's surprise intervention just before their departure, he was familiar with all goings-ons and the objective of the detachment. There was absolutely no prior activity outside of Telve, especially not as far as Kelpis. No soldier's could cross the Golden Wall without authorization; a request he himself would have to forward to the Ories. That was also true for returning. The Wall was the first and last line of defense between the wilds of the south, and the settled northern lands of the empire. It could not and would not be traversed without the consent of TEMPLE or the Ories. Yet, these mines were real. It was not possible to sneak by, or punch through the initial gravitational fields, let alone the actual barrier protecting the entire Cimmerian peninsula. Great armies had tried, and failed. It had no weakness. Occirion's barrier was the impenetrable ward which allowed the Theocracy to bloom into the global power it was. No Cheisha filth was capable of waltzing through to toss a few mines and walk back.

Kædda also had not seemed surprised by the Ascendant, or rather, he recognized her. The situation itself also did not seem to perturb him and he demonstrated some degree of familiarity with the otherwise foreign environment. Carver was certain the little bastard was keeping a great deal of secrets... and that left he himself, frighteningly vulnerable while traveling with these two clearly suicidal traitors.[Carver | Sense Motive - Success]

The snap of the wind made it difficult to see, but Carver took a moment to size the man up. At the sight of the masked man eyeing him, the small soldier paused to give him a series of vulgar pelvic thrusting gestures, complete with arm pumping. The awkward display forced them to resume their march through the bouts of wind. While not a prolonged exchange, it was enough for Carver to ascertain a few features. The most obvious being, Cade wasn't wearing the same uniform as before. His clothes were more worn and showed evidence of damage in battle, but aside from some abrasions and bandaged defensive wounds on his arms and hands, the Cheisha appeared in good health. Other than his overall diminutive stature and the burden of the large bag he carried, there were no glaring vulnerabilities he could pick out... Carver distinctly didn't recall those scratches or bandages previously. Perhaps they were from the fall, or perhaps... something else. It was impossible to tell.[Carver | Heal - Partial]

As an Accuser for the Purity Arm, Carver had not spent an absorbent amount of time fiddling around in the south. There was far more important locales which required the a more delicate touch. However, that did not mean he was unfamiliar with the general state of things. The Kelpis Road was the primary means of travel for northern Cimmerians to reach the heart of the southern empire. The painted asphalt was usually in moderate but functional condition with maintenance departing from Telve to see to the road's upkeep. Logistically, the Kelpis road was the throat and arteries of the midlands and allowed Cimmerian resources to flow both into the north, and military power into the south. The massive armed convoys could both be fighting men deploying abroad, or guarding valuable natural materials produced in the factories and refineries which littered the empire beyond the Golden Wall. Processing of raw materials and ore was not done in the north due to the harmful and unpleasant byproducts generated from such processes. Such menial tasks were left to southerners. Here, the pollution was so thick and rampant, it poisoned the air and soil. To an extent, this was also another weapon of the empire and a significant deterrent to potential invaders. Spreading the filth from the black choking industrial facilities and befouling the water, spilled over unto their neighbors, dealing irreparable damage to the environment and the ecosystem of nearby foreign lands. It was an intentional psychologic and control tactic to diminish the effectiveness of those nearest to them. Of course, this did not impact the north with its artificially conditioned atmosphere. Not even air could pass through the Golden Wall. Beyond it was paradise, while before it was the hell of a polluted putrid mire of ash and sludge designed to blight out every living creature who lacked their protection. A number of 'airways', where the smog and noxious gases were funneled out to other parts of the world also started here, while chemical dump sites were usually spaced out along the coastline. Denying livable conditions to their enemies by destroying the very earth had shown itself to be a frightfully effective means of attrition. After all, the long term implications for Cimmerians were virtually nil. The blessings of Ocirrion's wisdom allowed them to easily purify earth, air and water as needed. Only their enemies needed to die gasping in black clouds or plagued by horrid disease.

To a significant degree, the Claris Purity Arm played a large part in this organized means of biologic warfare. It was his job to see that the poison they themselves manufactured and distributed to the rest of the world did not get out of hand. Controlled chaos. With so much blight originating in one place, it was easy for regulation to be lost. Disease and pollution were terrible weapons, and he was both the cure and the pestilence. Samples of new specimens were always taken before being cleansed from an area, so that the local population might be protected and the source might be tactically employed against foreign foes. Admittedly though, even he had to mentally acknowledge that a lack a Purity Arm presence in the south had decreased their overall effectiveness. There was far too much happening here to simply expect occasional annual visits to resolve. While southerners were mostly comprised of native inhabitants, Cimmerians did live here as well, and those who worshipped Ocirrion's divine love were welcome here. As an Accuser, he was the custodian of these poor souls, to shepherd them towards enlightenment. It was his duty to see that the faithful did not succumb to the pestilence manufactured for heretics. [Carver | Knowledge (Nature) - Success]


Perhaps Fredrik didn't understand the Ascendant's words, or maybe he didn't understand Cade. The only thing he could be certain of was that he didn't understand anything going on around him. Now that the excitement had died down, he spent a moment thinking back to the bus. In his more rational mind, he recalled that the 'white-woman' reading a book, and the mischievous Ascendant had looked nothing alike. He had kept quiet during their march through the stinging sandstorm, but his mind still tried to piece the bits he had been told together. How did Cade and the others get beyond the wall? He couldn't even think of when that might have happened; it was no small affair. The old Melotte County burn pits north of Kelpis had stopped being used decades ago, but the massive burn sites had polluted the area with terrible ash. The purpose had been to drive away the tribal resistance which had lingered along the wall, in addition to any other future troublemakers who might have the same thoughts in the future. The strategy had worked, but the residual effects had created sweeping ashstorms which made navigation difficult. In more recent years, the storms had supposedly led to other problems left to regular infantrymen; such as bandits.

The display visor shielded his eyes from the gravel-filled dust, but he was beginning to cough. The annoying hiss of the Accuser's pressurized suit was a mildly irritating convenience. Like an unintelligible whisper that reminded him of the difference which separated the two. The shirt he pressed against his nose and mouth might due for another minute or so, but it was quickly caking thick with dirt and a fine soot already begun to pass through the strands of fabric. Fredrik squinted to see what he thought were dark holes dug into the side of a mound of stone and gravel. Something... shambled out, or perhaps fell, then... [Fredrik | Perception - Failure]

A black wall crashed down over them with a bowling wave of violent air. A whirling tumultuous gale, buffeting them with blow after blow of wind. The churning cloud was as black as night, blocking out all vision. An ashstorm. They each could barely make out their own feet upon the ground as the burned petals blocked out any semblance of light. It had descended so suddenly, Fredrik had felt like he'd perhaps been shot dead or lost his eyesight. There was no way they could have seen the storms approach amid the billowing sand. Each of their displays updated with a rough overlay of the road, comprised of two lightly glowing blue lines. “SHEIT! FOLLOW MY MARKER, THERE SHOULD BE A POST ANOTHER MILE OR SO DOWN!”


Carver - [roll0] minutes of filter time used
Fredrik - Improvised mask will last one more round before becoming ineffective

[KELPIS BREEZE - ASHSTORM]
The winds on the Kelpis Road are famous for their unpleasant wind shears, poor visibility, and choking air. Traveling unprepared can be hazardous.
○ Howling Wind - You can only hear speech shouted by others within 15 ft normally. Perception checks within 10 ft suffer a -15 circumstance penalty, checks beyond this instead suffer a -30 penalty. Creatures without any eyewear to protect their eyes cannot see at all.
○ Choking Air - The air is littered with sediment and bits from the ruins of destroyed factories and processing facilities. Each round you must succeed a DC 14 fortitude save, on success this save's DC increases by 2. Upon failure, you suffer 1d6 points of non-lethal damage and the DC of this condition is reset to 14. Using a face coverings grants some protection and provides a +6 circumstance bonus to these saves. Filter masks negate this effect entirely but consume filter time faster than normal.
○ Limited Visibility - Visibility is reduced to a maximum of 30 ft due to the chaotic weather conditions.
○ Artificial Night - The clouds of smog from the refineries close to Yelnne create a perpetual night. This artificial environment reduces all natural sources of daytime light to dim-light. The concentration of the smog grows during storms and the closer to Yelnne a person gets.





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[Chromascope3D]

Damn it all. The creature was not a dog, but a wolf waiting to strike. There was something deeply wrong here, but the Accuser couldn't wrap his mind around what, his mind spending near the whole of the previous half-hour trying to solve this impossible equation and conundrum. It was not enough to keep on his toes, he would need insurance, lest the creature take advantage of a potential future scenario to do away with him and flee. He knew that there would be no place on the continent that one could hide from the crime of murdering an Accuser, and that the Empire would spare no expense to bring his killer to justice. But that would be a cold comfort is he was dead. So, he too would need to place a blade at the man's neck. A dead-man's switch, something that would ensure that it would understand that retribution would be swift and definite. He had nothing on hand that would work, and even if he did, he had no antidote. Silently cursing his lack of foresight, Carver knew then that bluffing would be the only option. He just needed an opportunity...

Or that was, until the storm descended. Running was not his strong suit, but there was little choice now.

Gonna continue to use the filter mask and run after Cade

Perception [roll0]

[forg99rules]

Fredrik was still confused, as his mind drifted back he wasn't sure why he had thought the woman he had seen the first time had been the Ascendant. Perhaps it had been her words about him peaking or possibly it was just that she had stood up from where the other woman had been, either way, it matters little right now. Feeling his shirt begin to cade with dirt he decided it was time to swap to his filter mask, quickly grabbing it and putting it on, he took a cautious breath of air testing to make sure the device was working.

Seeing something shamble out brought a brief alarm to him just before the Ashstorm hit. Hearing Cade call out for them to follow his marker brought Fredrik back to the present, there was something out in this ashstorm with him... or at least he thought he had seen something. Figuring it's safer to bet on it being something than to wind up dead from an unknown he called out as loud as he could before slinging his stone-rifle around. He knew that Emiliana would have been better in most situations, but with visibility, as it was he couldn't risk blowing away an ally. "CADE! I HAD MOVEMENT JUST BEFORE THE STORM, I DON'T THINK WE ARE ALONE OUT HERE!" Taking a glance around Fredrik tried to make out any sort of target in the Ashstorm while also trying to keep up with Cade and the Accuser.



Donning my Filter Mask since the improvised mask wasn't going to last.

Know Local: [roll0] - trying to figure out what sort of creatures could be out here
Perception: [roll1] - Trying to see if I spot anything creeping up on us (unlikely to work)

[Mornings]

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[<THREAT CONDITION UPDATED>
Threat Condition: Yellow ▓]

Carver could feel a sense of alarm as the colored text spilled over his vision shortly after the mildly less troublesome machine-gunner shouted his warning. Accuser’s of the Purity Arm utilized the Personnel Management System in their Diagnostic software, and while it didn’t always provide the desired alerts prior to encountering threats, it almost never provided false information. There were of course, four condition-levels; Green, Yellow, Red and Black. Code “Yellow”: imminent or probable attack within 5 minutes. He hoped desperately that the indicator did not turn red…

[Mission Time: 13:32 ▓]

The deafening howl of the wind and the crashing waves of ash hit them like walls of water mixed with wet sand. Each step threatened to rip them from their feet and send them tumbling into the darkness, likely where they would be buried alive. Fredrik spit a mouthful of grit before swapping over to his filtered mask, the cloth he had been using to cover his face was now thick with course clay-like muck. Kædda had similarly donned a light filtration device, though it was difficult to see much without the assistance of the display goggles which shielded their eyes from the storm. It was difficult to push through the wall of sand and wind, but they still hustled on blindly after Cade, using the imaginary glowing lines on their display as guides to mark the road and their own general position. “THEN MOVE YOUR ARSE!”

Fredrik mulled over what he might have seen tumbling about in the desolate wastes, but it was difficult to tell. There were many dangers out in the southern wilds, not only from contaminated animals, but also from bandits, rebels and even potential enemy scouts who might be testing the empire’s defenses. It wouldn’t have been the first time, and a great deal of their adversaries made constant efforts to determine just how much of the empire was even defensible outside of their blessed golden cradle. There was also rumors of mutant experiments having escaped from old laboratories and illegal testing facilities operating in the south, beyond the reach of Imperial law. Not every researcher flourished under the dogma of the Central Lab, and a number of researchers fell out of grace.

A number of great minds had fled the capital, coming under the care of individual Counties, Scriptures, or even enemy nations in some rare cases. This was discovered to be a recurring trend, and while the Central Labs did make some changes to better the conditions for researchers, those who cut ties were very much at risk from the empire. Those deemed a threat could not be allowed to assist their enemies, so they often would be captured or killed by Accusers from less respectable Arms. He dismissed the thought of some tentacled monstrosity hounding them down across the broken highway. It was highly unlikely, and an utterly fantastical thought this far from Yelnne, where such facilities had been known to have once existed. In Kelpis, a number of Enchel tribes were said to still exist, leading to the propagation of bandits and rebels targeting Cimmerians. Some were even said to chase storms like this to ambush careless Cims who wandered out from beyond the wall.

Pressing forward through the dark wall of soil and ash was a disorienting affair, but they moved with purpose. Hopefully their haste would take them away from whatever it was he had seen and they wouldn’t need to discover just what he might have glimpsed. [Fredrik | Knowledge (Local) - Partial]


BEEP. BEEP. BEEP The electronic buzz of the alarm sounded in Carver’s ears just as his eyes widened in recognition. The dark shape abruptly hurtled past him as he nearly tumbled out of the way. Perhaps some manner of small creature, or a large projectile. He could feel a sense of dread as the red text begun to filter across his vision…

[<THREAT CONDITION UPDATED>
Threat Condition: Red (Ground Attack) ▓]

A distant guttural howling began to penetrate the deafening gouts of wind pummeling them, seemingly from all sides. Long black streaks crashed down upon them through the black, Fredrik narrowly avoided one of the objects and Cade danced between multiple attacks. As the amorphous things struck down upon the asphalt a small glint of sparks flickered to life, but passed just as quickly. The digital displays updated and began to show the strange objects as simple lines flying out through the wall of dust. Kædda screamed back at them as loud as he could muster through the filtration mask, “ASH EATERS! ASH EATERS! MOVE! MOVE! MOVE!” [Fredrik | Perception Check - Success] [Carver | Perception Check - Success] [Cade | Perception Check - Success]

They were in full sprint now, black lines raining down upon them like an irregular hail of arrows. The mystery had solved itself, and for once Fredrik dreaded being right. Not much was known about the wandering Enchel people just beyond the wall. Within Telve they referred to them as ‘Ashen’. On the Wall they were called ‘Ash Eaters’, on account of them somehow being able to persist in this wasteland seemingly without food or water. It was not lost on Carver how dire his circumstance had become. His traitorous companions might be allowed a clean death, but for a Cimmerian, let alone an Accuser… He could not allow himself to be captured alive.

Despite the heavy load of his weapons, ammunition, armor and kit, Fredrik easily passed the Accuser. Throwing his weapon over his shoulder to stop the awkward rattling, he even overtook Cade and assumed the lead in the group. Carver also pushed forward as he raced ahead as quickly as his legs could take him. Kædda and the Accuser pulled side-by-side at a similar pace, watching Fredrik push even further ahead until he was only visible with the digital display. It was a stark reminder of the fitness required of a Cimmerian heavy-gunner. [Fredrik | Fortitude Save - Success] [Carver | Fortitude Save - Success] [Cade | Fortitude Save - Success]

“WATCH THE ROAD!” Cade tried to call out to Fredrik as best he could, but there was no way to tell if the warning had come too late. The broken highway sharply fractured off ahead of them where the geography of the land had been significantly altered by large-scale bombardments from previous skirmishes. The ground was broken and fell away with the remainder of the highway some ten feet below. Clouds of ash briefly parted as they raced up to the fall, revealing the scene before them. The jagged crevasse looked more like a shift resulting from building upon the fracture between tectonic plates rather than a man-made occurrence. The entirety of the visible geography was lowered from their current position, perhaps for miles.

Fredrik had easily skid down the sides of the shattered road, navigated the precarious broken mounds of rock and dirt and continued his sprint. Cade opted to simply skid off the ledge, letting his hands grasp the lip of the edge before letting go and landing below. A uselessly risky maneuver. Carver carefully picked his way down as expeditiously as he could, before chasing after the pair. [Fredrik | Acrobatics Check - Success] [Carver | Acrobatics Check - Success] [Cade | Acrobatics Check - Success]

The air had become less vile below, and Cade switched back to covering his face with scarves to conserve his mask’s filter. Visibility was poor, but still far better than the blinding wall they had ran through to reach this far. The howling of their pursuers was growing louder from behind as the cry of the wind grew dim. Frantically they ran down the broken highway. Rusted cars overgrown with weeds and moss began to impede their path. With little other choice, they took to weaving between the abandoned vehicles. The ash blocking their vision had eased, revealing what lay before them. Carver could feel himself pause at the familiar road, a swelling knot forming in his stomach. A distraction which he could not afford… The ring of a half dozen black spires raining down upon them reminded him of their horrid circumstance.

Kædda barely managed to evade one of the projectiles as he ducked behind the last vehicle on the road as the highway opened up into a larger terminal. The sparks from the attack showered him and took off the hood of the truck that had shielded him. Fredrik, further ahead than any of them, simply ran out from under the storm of bolts. Carver ducked one spire, but as he came around the same vehicle Cade had hid behind, a black lance struck him in the leg, pinning him to the front of the dingy old car. [Fredrik | Reflex Save - Success] [Carver | Reflex Save - Failure] [Cade | Reflex Save - Success]

More like a massive twisted nail than a spear, it was a jagged thing composed of some non-metallic substance. Perhaps some densely compacted powder or other loose material, he couldn’t be sure. The black lance punched through part of his leg. The semi-visible web-like strands of his barrier reminded his brain that the pain wasn’t real, only a haptic alarm from his dampening suit. Fortunately his kinetic field had prevented any harm this time. While perhaps, extreme, physical objects could be folded through the sub-space of the field, even passing through him… However, that didn’t stop the eye-watering prongs of pain being sent screaming directly into his brain. It made him feel like he might lose his stomach. He could only curse himself for not requesting a technician to enhance his suit’s pain-inhibitors. [Carver | 1d8+4 points dealt to kinetic field. Pinned in place - DC 15 Strength Check, DC 18 Escape Artist or Break - Hardness 10/HP 5]

[<UNKNOWN CONTAMINATION DETECTED>
Name: Unknown (B1477)
Contagious: Yes
Hazardous: Yes
Prior Records: No
Type: Blight or Virus
Targets: Living Organisms
Transmission Type: Unknown, Physical Contact

Detected presence of Unknown Contamination B1477 on foreign object in contact with the operator. Assigning B1477 designation ‘Ash-Blight’. Tagging geographic location. Records and points of detection will be uploaded to OGRN (Ories Global Research Network) ▓]


Normally the discovery of a new strain of contamination would be something to celebrate… but not here, not now. Carver could think of a thousand better places to be surrounded by enemies that weren’t Bines Forward Operations Post…


https://images2.imgbox.com/cc/52/1OsT53OT_o.png


Carver - 4 + [roll0] minutes of filter time used
Fredrik - [roll1] minutes of filter time used
Cade - [roll2] minutes of filter time used

[KELPIS BREEZE - ASHSTORM]
The winds on the Kelpis Road are famous for their unpleasant wind shears, poor visibility, and choking air. Traveling unprepared can be hazardous.
○ Howling Wind - You can only hear speech shouted by others within 30 ft normally. Perception checks within 20 ft suffer a -15 circumstance penalty, checks beyond this instead suffer a -30 penalty. Creatures without any eyewear to protect their eyes cannot see at all.
○ Limited Visibility - Visibility is reduced to a maximum of 60 ft due to the chaotic weather conditions.



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[Chromascope3D]

The pain made it impossible to think. Apply antibiotic? No, it hadn't yet made physical contact with his skin. Gather sample? There were more pressing issues at the moment, namely the horrid spine pinning his leg to the vehicle. He doubted that he had any solid ways to beark it off, nor to wrench it off. He considered making use of the Cheisha's strength to free him but he suspected this was just the opportunity that the blasphemer was looking for to get rid of him. And in truth, Carver didn't want the cur to soil him with his impure touch anyhow. The doctor would simply pull his leg away, allowing the spine to pass all the way through. Subspace mechanics were not his are of expertise so he was unsure if such would damage his shield any further, but, with it's structural integrity holding for now, he would simply have to risk it. Carver spits out a series of his own vitriolic curses in a low, primitive tongue, as even impaled upon a white poker, he would not soil the sanctity of his own precious language before the base caste.

Kneeling over, Carver grabs onto his calf his one hand, places the other upon the vehicle, takes a deep breath of purified air, and...

[roll0] Escape Artist
If he succeeds then he will attempt to sample the spine using a sample kit

[forg99rules]

Fredrik's training took over as the group came under attack, his feet moved on instinct as his eyes scanned ahead for even more threats. Cade had called them Ash Eaters, Fredricks mind turned the name over a few times, trying to remember what, if anything, he had heard about combating such beings. As they moved, it was easy for him to overtake the Cade and the Accuser, He was built for combat which meant he was made to move better and faster than everyone else. Coming upon the crevasse felt like a blessing, the storm seemed to have passed, or they had made it through it themselves.

Weaving through the cars slowed them down, but it also provided much-needed cover from their attackers. As the black spires rained down around them, Fredrik tried to spot where the attack was coming from. Turning his head to look back to Cade and the Accuser, he noted that the racist bastard had gotten hit and appeared to have gotten pinned to the ground by the black spike. His hand moved on its own, grabbing the Stone-Rifle off his back and aiming at the spike pinning the man to the car. The world slowed around him as his focus was narrowed, his breathing pausing for a second as he pulled the trigger sending a round towards the spike. Unsure if one shot would be enough he quickly chambered another shot letting loose on the spike till it was destroyed.



Knowledge Local: [roll0] - Information regarding the Ashen or Ash-Eaters and how to fight them... Specifically, if you can shoot them dead LOL
Perception Check: [roll1] - Trying to spot our attackers

Attack Roll: BARRAGE - (Expending Martial Focus) Shooting the spike Pinning Carver
ATK #1 - Attack Roll:[roll2] --- Damage Roll:[roll3] --- Crit since its an 18 on the roll... x2 damage
ATK #2 - Attack Roll:[roll4] --- Damage Roll:[roll5]
ATK #3 - Attack Roll:[roll6] --- Damage Roll:[roll7] --- Crit since its an 19 on the roll... x2 damage

If 2 shots at least hit then I will Regain my Martial Focus

[Mornings]

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[Mission Time: 13:32 ▓]

Carver wrung his hands white beneath his gloves. Twisting and prying, then contorting at any angle he could to slide free from the terrible black thing. The discomfort was acute, but it did not pain him. It was as if his leg was numbed by the kinetic barrier, yet the pressure and sensation was simply grotesque. Perhaps it felt something akin to having his femur being surgically broken to allow something to pass through... but it did not pass. The colorless dark stone barely moved, save for an inch! His heart was pounding in his throat, and a dreadful sense of alarm pulsed behind his brow. The ashen clouds were beginning to split, and that terrible vision finally rose into his view. He knew well where they were, and felt himself repulsed by that wretched cursed place... Bines Forward Operations Post.

Or what was left of it.


Kædda remained behind a vehicle for cover as dark lances shattered and deflected off the top of the truck Carver was pinned to. Quickly, he glanced at Carver, then at the newly visible pathway through a supermassive land-train, then back at Carver. He evidently wasn’t conflicted, but the gears were turning, weighing his options - of which, there were apparently more than two. Whatever plan he might have been hatching was put on hold just as quickly as it came. Fredrik’s shot rang out as the soldier quickly turned about and shot the dim lance in half with an expertly placed round. One bullet was enough to destroy the thing completely, as it quickly crumbled once fractured. “Nice Shot! Lets get through there!” Cade pointed ahead.

Land-trains were an ancient technology once utilized by Cimmerians beyond the wall to conquer the south. It was an effective means of transportation appropriated from the Free States, but the mechanical technology was certainly Machinations of Fal. A crime for which southern citizens found themselves exiled after the war, forbidden from returning behind the wall.The great relic before them was rusted and overturned, blocking off the highway as it terminated into the outpost plaza. The conductor's cabin, which formed the front of the large vehicle, was now detached. Evidently cleanly removed, as if something truly massive had cloven the train in two. When upright, trains towered twenty feet off the ground, but now upon its side, it became a nearly impassable wall, save for the pathway provided by the place where the great mechanical thing had been split open. Thick vegetation grew over the structure and made it difficult to see further ahead despite the billowing clouds easing significantly. Yet, all of that was secondary to the Accuser as he unexpectedly found himself freed from his strange restraints.

Working quickly, he produced a specimen vial and captured a fragment with a pair of forceps, dropping them into the container. Even if the worst were to come, he could not afford to let precious data slip between his fingers. It very well could become an invaluable asset to the empire in their struggle to purge the rot from the south. Right now, only one thing was certain; he could not suffer such a blow again. The blessings of Ocirron only reached so far in these tainted lands. [Carver | Dampening Suit - 11/20 Damage Absorbed

Quickly he induced a solution into the container and sealed. He had tried to gather as many of the intact small crystalline slivers which had formed a surface coating of the dark lance, hoping it would be enough, or that they were not damaged beyond use. He mounted the phial to his collections lance and let the analyzer do as much as it could. A tense silence, then… The text began to filter before his eyes. [Carver | Expedited Sample (DC 13) - [21] Success] - [Research Score +20]

[<CONTAMINATION SAMPLE> ASH-BLIGHT (B1477)

Analysis complete…. Loading results into Ories Global Research Network.
Connecting…. Connecting… Connected.

Name: Ash-Blight
Research Completed: 20%
Contagious: Yes
Hazardous: Yes
Threat Category 1
Prior Records: Yes (Discovered by Accuser Carver, Claris Purity Arm)
OGRN Record: Yes
Type: Variant, Crystal Lesion
Targets: Living Organisms
Transmission Type: Unknown, Physical Contact

Crystal Lesion variant detected. Extremely hazardous, assigning highest threat designation… Ash-Blight (Category 1 Contamination).

ADVISORY: All Lesion Scouts assigned to area will terminate all living organisms which may contact uninfected. Geographic position (Bines Observation Post) has been designated QUARANTINE ZONE #347.

ACTION: Terminate all infected attempting to exit Quarantine Zone 347. Collect samples from infected organisms and purge the infected site. Incendiary weapons, thermal energy weapons, thermobaric explosives and orbital dyne weapons are approved for site destruction. ▓]


Fredrik hastily glanced about, getting his bearings and eyeing the passage through the split train. He had only seen land-trains, or the wreckage of them a handful of times. They were only utilized by their adversaries in the Free States now, and perhaps a handful of dissident rebel communities in the south. For the most part, most were like this, relics rotting in the wilderness - but they were valuable nonetheless. Perhaps they were more like ridiculously large trucks, but with numerous compartments tied together running behind the vehicle - making them appear much more ‘train-like’. Looters would typically pick apart valuable assets like this, even salvaging its parts; the entire thing was quite precious. He pushed that thought aside, but made a mental note of their location. Worst case, Cade’s plan fell through and they could come back and scrap this train. Better to live free and very rich in the south, than poor and shackled to the Temple of Khelba’Chel. The little-man’s words suddenly seemed all too possible now from where he stood.

The attacks from the distance had paused, but he didn’t relax his attention. While stone-rifles were not loud by any means, firing a round could have still easily surrendered their exact position. That thought scratched the back of his mind. There was no point throwing their lances blindly when they could not encircle them. [Fredrik | Perception - Partial]

‘Ash-Eaters’ had almost become an umbrella term for all those who chased the ash storms and attacked others braving the clouds of dust. It was assumed they were Enchel raiders protecting their native lands bordering the Golden Wall. Of course no Cheisha wanted to fight their native brothers. While they might have been more Cimmerian than they would like to believe, every Cheisha was still an Enchel in his heart, and treated only slightly better by his Cimmerian masters. From the rumors, it seemed likely to be true, at least to some extent. Not every tale came from a trustworthy source, but it was not unusual for Cheisha fighters to be thrust out on patrol beyond the wall before any Cim, and conflicts with the alleged ‘Ashen’ tribes sometimes did occur.

According to some of the words Fredrik trusted more, they had even had to face a real Kaalsi. The thought made him shiver; the Common-Knights of the Enchel were not tall tales, and retained a legendary reputation for a reason. They still fought to this day, and were perhaps one of the primary reasons why the Enchel people hadn’t been eradicated completely by the Cimmerians centuries ago. According to his friend, the Kaalsi had withstood fire from three dyne-gunner squads and killed two men before being forced to retreat. Not much was known about the Ash-Eaters, as while some claimed to have killed one, no body or evidence had ever been recovered. At the very least, majority claimed that firearms appeared to be effective, as were dyne weapons. [Fredrik | Knowledge (Local) - Partial]

The air was beginning to settle, but a creeping sense of urgency was beginning to rise in its place.


https://images2.imgbox.com/ee/d8/2ao8hONg_o.png


Carver - 6 minute(s) of filter time used / Dampening Suit - 11/20 Damage Absorbed
Fredrik 1 minute(s) of filter time used
Cade 2 minute(s) of filter time used

[KELPIS BREEZE - ASHSTORM]
The winds on the Kelpis Road are famous for their unpleasant wind shears, poor visibility, and choking air. Traveling unprepared can be hazardous.
○ Howling Wind - You can only hear speech shouted by others within 30 ft normally. Perception checks within 20 ft suffer a -15 circumstance penalty, checks beyond this instead suffer a -30 penalty. Creatures without any eyewear to protect their eyes cannot see at all.
○ Limited Visibility - Visibility is reduced to a maximum of 90 ft due to the chaotic weather conditions.



https://images2.imgbox.com/10/9c/rgNzedr3_o.png

[Chromascope3D]

His heart sank at the results, though deeper down he knew this was the result he expected. He wouldn't be leaving here, in all likelihood. If all he could do was collect data and leave it to be discovered by the next wave...

No, what was he thinking. This was no time to be giving up. A man of his station, of his height? He had struggled so far to get here, and this was his ultimate purpose! Besides, he could not lose his composure in front of the rabble. He glanced down at his leg, undamaged but for the barrier folds resuming their shape. He didn't know why he had bothered checking, he was a man of faith, and he should trust that Ocirrion's blessings would not allow his to needlessly come to harm. Gripping the haft of the lance, he took a few ginger steps as the pain began to fade, then resumed his full height as well. He did not offer thanks to the one named Fredrik, it was simply the dog's duty to guard it's master, but if it was well trained enough to cleave the spine with one shot, then there was a chance for them yet. He nodded at Kaedda's suggestion, knowing that the sound of gunfire had probably fully revealed their position, yet still he spoke just loud enough to be heard through the dissipating storm, "Indeed, we will first seek shelter and then regroup, for a counterattack if need be. I am authorizing use of deadly force. Shoot anything that moves, let nothing escape your sights. Even if unarmed. We are operating under for a greater good now, Ocirrion shield our bodies from Lesion..."

Carver is going to activate his infrared goggle and double move in an attempt to take cover behind the train, hopefully from the direction that the spines are coming from.
Perception: [roll0]
Sense Motive on Cade: [roll1]

[forg99rules]

Fredrick wasted no time with his actions, as soon as the Accuser had been freed he moved into the relative cover that the Land train provided. Reaching into one of his pouches he pulled out a Stanchion Node, he did not really want to use it as the nodes were expensive. However in their current situation and with this being a choke point he felt it was worth the money to ensure his own survival. Sticking the node to the side of the Land-Train he waited for the two others to reach him. Hearing the Accuser say that he was Authorizing Lethal Force showed that this Accuser was not used to working with his kind. There was never really a Time that non-lethal would be used out here in these lands, Fredrick assumed though that what the Accuser meant to say was that they could do Loud and ignore casualties. Thinking along those lines, Fredrick quickly swapped from his stone rifle to his Dyne Machine Rifle. His eyes moved over to check on Cade, he was unsure if they were going to follow this accuser in clearing out this blight with just the two of them or if they were going to press forward with what they had originally been tasked to do. "Cade, whats the next move?" As he waited for a sign or signal as to their next move he peered around the other side of the Land-train to see what sort of terrain or cover they would be provided with going forward.



Moving to E13
Using a Stanchion Node, placing it at F13 against the land-train
Swapping to the big gun...

Perception Check: [roll0]