The Ocularian Conspiracy IC

[Henry the 57th]

The screaming daemon smashes into the rapidly-braced Interrogator Altier, blazing black hellfire sword clashing against the ornate shining silver of her own blade with a resound clang, sparks flying in all directions. In spite of what a cynical soul might believe would happen, the golden-armored woman actually holds against the charging abomination, forced back a step by the sheer momentum of its impact but unyielding. Swords clash in rapid, almost frenzied movements, each hit sending further sprays of sparks or even tiny globs of molten metal scattering across the plush crimson carpeting, which is starting to smoke in some places.

In spite of the dramatic duel taking place in the background, the cell's attention is primarily drawn to far more immediate problems. As Matthias rises to his feet, head bloody from his incredibly close brush with death, Gaspar the servo skull hovers swiftly to his side, medical implements ready to apply whatever temporary aid might be rendered in a firefight. As to the Sororita who shot him, she swiftly finds herself with a more immediate problem: a bolt round to the head.

The red-armored woman's helmet seems to burst as Dyveke's expertly-aimed shot grazes the area right where her temple should be, raining down a small shower of sparks, molten metal, and cracked ceramite. The holy warrior staggers back several steps, and for a moment it looks like she might fall, but her power armor proves to be as effective as her bloody-minded zeal. Despite the smoking crater in her helmet, the Sister rallies, expertly switching her aim towards the shameless heretic who had the effrontery to strike a Daughter of the Emperor. Leveling her blessed gun at Dyveke, she squeezes the trigger and unleashes another quick burst of bolter fire.

Spoiler: Dyveke

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You're prone and in any case don't have Quick Draw so readying the weapon would be a half action anyway. On the other hand being prone in these circumstances, amongst a mass of likewise prone targets, does afford you a -10 to being hit by ranged attacks.

Speaking of, the Sister returns fire with a Semi-Auto Burst: (1d100)[59] vs 45.

If hit:
(1d10)[6] +5 X damage, Pen 4 or (1d10)[6] +5 X damage, Pen 4, whichever is higher.
(1d10)[1] +5 X damage, Pen 4 or (1d10)[4] +5 X damage, Pen 4, whichever is higher.

Honestly last round I forgot about the Tearing quality and its effects, so thank you for reminding me.

Edit: Albeit it didn't end up mattering this round.

While that is going on, Soren scrambles onto the stage, with no one seeming all that inclined to worry about him at the moment. Even the noble lady in the jeweled black dress seems to have other problems, like the Stormtrooper currently attempting to light her up. With so many active combatants about, no one appears to have the time to worry about one apparently unarmed man trying to flee.

From their vantage point on the stage, both Soren and H3X are able to catch a glimpse of Thaddeus Hrosavar, face surprisingly calm considering the situation, slipping nimbly past the unsold items to the back and right of the stage and disappearing into an open portal just barely visible amongst the shadows. H3X is already following him at a rapid pace, taking cover behind the unsold displays and apparently ignored by both sides in favor of more active threats. But the auction master had a head start, and is currently beyond his visual range.

What is not beyond visual range is yet another figure scrambling his way up onto the vacated stage, the heavily-augmented psyker nobleman, now revealed to also be a summoner of daemons. Yet it is abundantly clear that such a spell did not come without a price. The psyborg's movements are extremely janky, periods of seeming immobility punctuated suddenly with inhuman twitches and bursts, nothing like the sophisticated bearing with which he carried himself throughout the auction. From where he stands, H3X can see clearly that what little grey flesh that nobleman still has is writhing unnaturally just beneath the surface, and it becomes a bit more obvious just why he is so heavily augmented. The man's unblinking blue ocular implants stare over at the Mechanicus assassin, obviously zeroing in on the armorglass box gripped so tightly in his mechadendrites, and the assassin recalls that he had been the other sincere bidder most eager to lay hands on it.

Meanwhile, all around the ballroom, pandemonium reigns. Men and women in the battered regalia of nobility are fleeing in all directions, some even clawing at solid walls in sheer panicked desperation to escape the wrath of the Inquisition. The Sororitas and Stormtroopers are continuing their implacable advance even in the face of the death-masked guards withering volleys of lasfire, zeroing in on each active shooter in turn and dispatching them with ruthless efficiency before moving on to the next, trusting in their heavy armor to protect them. Several of the nobles that are not actively fleeing have drawn an assortment of their own weapons and are beginning to return fire, while many more are lying dazed on the ground, the shock of it all overwhelming their senses.