You replay the events of the past minute in your head. The sudden light that must have been the witch trying to do something. You tried to shut it down, suddenly there was an explosion of some sort, and now there's this darkness. This situation doesn't seem natural. Your flashlight didn't do anything, so either it's broken or there's something psychic going on.
If your flashlight is broken, there's not much you can do. But if this is psychic interference...
You concentrate on shoving the darkness away, pouring your power into the area around you. Go away, you think. Go. Away.
People start shouting, and now there's a definite note of panic in their voices. You hear a sudden commotion off to your left. You fervently hope that whatever's happening there is the enemy's problem. You don't even know whether your left is in the enemy's direction: you've completely lost track of which direction is which by now. You push harder. Your head feels like it's getting pricked by a thousand ice-cold needles. The electronics in your skull sputter and hiss in protest, static electricity sparking between the wires running down your neck. And yet... you feel almost giddy, despite the increasing panic surrounding you.
"Turn it off," you can hear Telos yelling over the noise. "Blank! Turn it off!"
"What?" you say.
"Whatever you are doing," Telos shouts, "stop it!" You turn your limiters back on, and soon the hallway is almost eerily silent. In the distance, you can hear shouting and crashing, but this hallway is quiet. You can hear Telos' footsteps as she walks over to you. "Blank," Telos hisses in a shaky voice, "never do that–" Then she stops short. "Restrain yourself," she finishes, with a surprising lack of vehemence.
You hear heavy bootsteps approaching. From the faint clank of armor, you guess this must be one of the Arbites. "Interrogator," says someone in a low voice, "what in the name of all that was holy was that?"
"The witch tried something and failed spectacularly. Then our Blank... got a little overzealous. Beyond that, I can't say. Arbitrator, is your equipment malfunctioning as well?" You blink. So you weren't the only one?
"Everything more complicated than a club seems to have jammed or gone inert," whispers the Arbitrator. "No idea why."
"Damnation. Must be psychic backlash," mutters Telos angrily. "I hate when this happens. It's almost as annoying as when the psyker succeeds. With our luck, the idiot witch probably blew out all the lighting in the building permanently. This is the worst I've ever seen, but I'm sure it will wear off eventually. Still, we're blind for now, and equipped with little more than cudgels. Fortunately, our enemies are in the same situation." If the witch accidentally disabled everything mechanical in the building, that would explain why your flashlight wouldn't turn on. And why you haven't heard any gunfire yet, come to think of it. They must be having a brawl downstairs instead of a shootout.
"Speaking of which, where did they go?" says the Arbites.
"Our recruits seem to mostly have cut and run after the explosion. They will pay for that later, but we don't have time to round them up right now. We will have to make do with the few that have kept their courage. The witch's gangsters seem to have panicked and fled when the Blank did... " Telos pauses. "Actually, what did you do, Blank?"
"...tried to make the dark go away," you say quietly, your heart sinking.
Kinda glad it was just darkness darkness, not psychic oojoo woojoo. And hey! We found out a power! Just need to train it up and Nameless Fear is a good all rounder. Terrible for talking to people except as a social bludgeon/escape tool, but good in altercations by making the enemy flee or otherwise remove themselves from the battle, freezing etc and it will help end fights faster by causing routs. A good debuff versus shooting too I hope.
The witch groans as you haul her to her feet. She tries to pull away from you, but fat chance of that; you'd prefer Telos yell at the witch than you. She gives you a very nasty glare, then her eyes suddenly widen and she looks away in a hurry.
"Please tell me this is just a dream," she mumbles.
"Silence, heretic," barks Telos.
"Fuck you," the witch sneers.
"Ariadne, punch her," says Telos.
"What?" you splutter.
"Oh, for the Emperor's sake," grumbles Telos, "why can't I get subordinates that are obedient and intelligent? She's just committed heresy in front of you and you've got hands. Punch. Her. Or are you too busy admiring her shapely figure?"
"Um," you say, and then give her stomach a halfhearted punch at an awkward angle.
"Ow!" hisses the witch, then looks at Telos with a smirk. "Ooh, 'shapely figure'? Does the big bad Arbites like what she's seein'?"
"Well I should hope they don't," says Telos in a sickly-sweet voice, "but I wouldn't know because I'm not an Arbites myself." The witch frowns, and you can practically see her mind working as she tries to reason out who Telos is. "My name is Interrogator Telos, scum. You have the very great honor of meeting a servant of the Inquisition." For a moment, the witch just blinks in confusion, then her eyes widen as she realizes what's going on. You see horror and despair warring on the face of the witch.
Oh god this is so awkward. Our poor baby is so inexperienced she doesn't have a single idea what to do in these situations and just fumbles everything. Poor girl.
Out of nowhere, the witch whispers: "I'm damned, aren't I?"
You think back on what you've seen today. The dead man sprawled in the hallway, blood splattered across his face, eyes staring sightlessly at the ceiling. A flare of red light and a spray of gore as you gun someone down for the first time. The witch's shouted heresy, and unnatural teeth digging into Telos' flesh.
Interestingly here there's actually cross over you can draw between Ariadne's thoughts and the witch's speech. The sort of morbid contemplation of "This is my life now I guess," with a heaping helping of not feeling great about killing people. Which is really well handled here I think, in Ariadne's own way.
Not sure how to describe it in words, but her tendency to be withdrawn and shy sounding even in her thoughts.
What- what is that?" you manage, your voice coming out higher than you would like.
"Ah, Telos, you're back. And Ariadne too," says the Inquisitor, glancing over at you. "As for your question... well, let's just say this is a perfect object lesson in the perils of the xeno menace."
And the Inquisitor is like the only person to use her name, which is both really fucking sad, and a spot of brightness in the dark. I hold out some hope for Karst given our good showing seems to have made a decent impression on him, given the nod of acknowledgement.
Man, this quest is making me just hyper-focus on social cues of acceptance aimed at her. Ooof.
Shaking hands is a possibility in a pinch, but there are some complications attached to that.
That aside, this is a pretty good summary of a Pariah's abilities. They are mostly passive, and the few active powers they do have aren't remotely as versatile as psychic powers are. The active abilities are still quite useful, especially against said psychic powers, but they're not necessarily powergamer material, as it were.
Which is okay with me, since such limited powers in many ways open up a "If all you have is a Hammer" paradigm. Where we unlock a handful of powers and then the point is to try and figure out how to manipulate effects to achieve aims that are non-obvious or simply difficult for whatever the effect actually is. Like Nameless Fear as a tool in interrogation or protection of a choke point, or even as a means to ward an area with "Go away, this place is scary" vibes.
Find ways to apply our Hammer in different methodologies.
You are Inquisitor Cleistos, of the Holy Orders of the Emperor's Inquisition, and you are less displeased than you expected to be. In fact, as you survey the newest addition to your retinue, you feel a great deal of satisfaction.
An interesting trait, means we might actually have some success sneaking around in a Voidborn predominant environment. Useful for future missions.
[X] A masquerade ball. What could possibly go wrong?
I wonder if this will work well for Ariadne's social anxiety, using the mask as a shield, or if it will be worse for her because no one is familiar and its all just masks. Only one way to find out.
Oh god this is so awkward. Our poor baby is so inexperienced she doesn't have a single idea what to do in these situations and just fumbles everything. Poor girl.
Interestingly here there's actually cross over you can draw between Ariadne's thoughts and the witch's speech. The sort of morbid contemplation of "This is my life now I guess," with a heaping helping of not feeling great about killing people. Which is really well handled here I think, in Ariadne's own way.
Not sure how to describe it in words, but her tendency to be withdrawn and shy sounding even in her thoughts.
And the Inquisitor is like the only person to use her name, which is both really fucking sad, and a spot of brightness in the dark. I hold out some hope for Karst given our good showing seems to have made a decent impression on him, given the nod of acknowledgement.
Man, this quest is making me just hyper-focus on social cues of acceptance aimed at her. Ooof.
Yeah I can't quite put words and names to it but the way she phrases things and structures her inner thoughts comes off as very wallflower. If I could use anything I'd say colors. Black and white and insulated and surprisingly low key/not given to exaggeration and a quiet kind of horror.
I am not sure if she frames her presence in scenes as scenery, but its related to that outlook. Watchful is a close adjective.
E: And yeah voices is basically what we're discussing here, and it is really hard in my personal writing experience.
Alright, Ariadne with her effect on machines reminds me of a Discordant, an elite advance in the Dark heresy supplement, the Lathe Worlds. A discordant is an anathema to machine spirits with any advance tech near a discordant breaks down much easier than low tech things i.e. time-pieces. A discordant can also not be tracked, recorded, viewed by machinery. See p. 54 the Lathe worlds for full details
Alright, Ariadne with her effect on machines reminds me of a Discordant, an elite advance in the Dark heresy supplement, the Lathe Worlds. A discordant is an anathema to machine spirits with any advance tech near a discordant breaks down much easier than low tech things i.e. time-pieces. A discordant can also not be tracked, recorded, viewed by machinery. See p. 54 the Lathe worlds for full details
Hmm. Personally I am not sure it was Ariadne's fault the machines went bork, but its interesting all the same.
@ctulhuslp personally I'm thinking that getting training in flak armor and las weapons with the Guard would be good for Ariadne. It'd help her survival chances given she'd learn how to use her weapon better and get her determination refined, plus get used to orders in stressful situations. Because the point about us not being immune to mundane murder options is extremely salient right now. Additionally, if she has Guard training, then she'll be able to blend in with guard forces if necessary as well as PDF and the like.
Hmm. Personally I am not sure it was Ariadne's fault the machines went bork, but its interesting all the same.
@ctulhuslp personally I'm thinking that getting training in flak armor and las weapons with the Guard would be good for Ariadne. It'd help her survival chances given she'd learn how to use her weapon better and get her determination refined, plus get used to orders in stressful situations. Because the point about us not being immune to mundane murder options is extremely salient right now. Additionally, if she has Guard training, then she'll be able to blend in with guard forces if necessary as well as PDF and the like.
We'd have to pick meltagun as favored one for full Jurgen.
With how we are best at close range (aura-wise), it wouldn't even be that bad an idea. Ehhh.
Yeah, I agree, we need mundane fighting skills to be top-notch; it's just that terror-out aura, if we figure it out, increases our odds of winning a fight against, say, humans, too, so it's kind of working in that direction too.
We'd have to pick meltagun as favored one for full Jurgen.
With how we are best at close range (aura-wise), it wouldn't even be that bad an idea. Ehhh.
Yeah, I agree, we need mundane fighting skills to be top-notch; it's just that terror-out aura, if we figure it out, increases our odds of winning a fight against, say, humans, too, so it's kind of working in that direction too.
Right. The Nameless Fear is a hammer, but its a hammer that's good at helping us not die by thinning the ranks of beings who aren't immune to terror. Which while not enormous, is still a decent chunk of the setting. It gets iffier around Xenos like Orks and Eldar, but there's well, other reasons we'd have some advantages versus the Eldar like just being a Pariah.
Right. The Nameless Fear is a hammer, but its a hammer that's good at helping us not die by thinning the ranks of beings who aren't immune to terror. Which while not enormous, is still a decent chunk of the setting. It gets iffier around Xenos like Orks and Eldar, but there's well, other reasons we'd have some advantages versus the Eldar like just being a Pariah.
Well, right now, baseline human gangster is a legit danger to Ariadne, we are far from levels where "it's only going to thin out the mooks but not going to be enough against bosses" is a concern.
Combat-wise, I think she'd be lucky to have a tabletop profile of a regular guardswoman.
edit: also, Orks aren't immune to fear. I don't think many are immune, really, although I imagine it's going to be pointless against Necrons.
Then again, right now Ariadne straight up dies against Necrons anyway I bet, so. Best-case, she can pull a Jurgen and hide from them.
Well, right now, baseline human gangster is a legit danger to Ariadne, we are far from levels where "it's only going to thin out the mooks but not going to be enough against bosses" is a concern.
Combat-wise, I think she'd be lucky to have a tabletop profile of a regular guardswoman.
Very much a case of "Yeah dead if a person who knows how to fight gets the idea to murder her". And there ain't much we can do about it except survive long enough to build up our skills.
Very much a case of "Yeah dead if a person who knows how to fight gets the idea to murder her". And there ain't much we can do about it except survive long enough to build up our skills.
Mmmhm, more or less the case where literally anything which is Immune to Fear is likely going to murder her regardless, so might as well not worry about anything in that weight category.
So might get proper Fear first and keep in mind that we need all the mundane skills we can get.
Mmmhm, more or less the case where literally anything which is Immune to Fear is likely going to murder her regardless, so might as well not worry about anything in that weight category.
So might get proper Fear first and keep in mind that we need all the mundane skills we can get.
Some expertise with grenades to go along with the las gun would also be sensible I think. Because while the Emperor protects, explosives are extremely fun and very useful for turning things into fine red mist.
You're getting pretty tired of people not just telling you things, you decide, as you finish another chapter of the book on the Warp. The book is informative, but it... well, it can suddenly get very uninformative at times. And there's not much of it left to read, so you doubt it's going to suddenly do an about-face in the middle and suddenly start answering the obvious questions.
You flip open the book again give a particularly annoying passage a baleful look:
"...the fluidity of the Warp is what allows ships to pass through it (though the careful reader will again note that 'through' is an abstraction, as the Warp does not truly possess dimensions as we understand them), just as it allows its denizens to move within it. The substance composing the Warp is more analogous to liquid than anything else; thus we speak of 'currents' or 'storms' in the Warp. This fundamental mutability is hypothesized to..."
"Denizens". That's all you get. There are truly terrifying things that live in the Warp, that much is very clear in the book. But the book just tells you how to keep them out. Of course, that's definitely useful information. The consequences of them getting in are pretty dire– at least, the consequences that the book actually tells you about, and doesn't just allude to. The secrecy is more than a little frustrating. Why bother?
With a sudden chill, you remember the warnings on the front pages of the book. The Inquisition is willing to kill to keep what's in this book secret. That's not in question. So what would they do if you found out whatever this book is hiding? If this book is secret, and they won't even talk about whatever it is here, then... well, is it any of your business? Do you want it to be?
It's not like you have a choice, you realize. You fight psykers. Whether you like it or not, the Warp is now your business. The question is: what are you going to do about all this? Of course, you could just ask the Inquisitor, but...
You hesitate. Questions are dangerous unless you already know the answer. And you've just gotten in the Inquisitor's good books. You don't want to ruin that by pestering him, or by looking like you don't know what you're doing.
So you're going to figure this out on your own. You stare at the ceiling and try to figure out where to even begin.
So... what do you know about the Warp, aside from what this book's told you? You wrack your brain, but come up with nothing. The Warp just wasn't something people talked about. Everyone born in space knew that it existed, of course– it was where ships went when travelling between systems. But people always danced around the topic whenever it came up. The saying goes that the Warp is like the captain's mistress: the less you know about either, the safer you are.
There's probably a lot of truth in that statement, but it's not very helpful. You sigh, rolling over and staring at the ceiling for a moment.
Then you sit up with excitement. No, wait, you do know something. Now and again in their sermons, the Ministorum priests had mentioned that daemons come from the Warp, and that they lived there. But more than that, they were made of the Warp. How had they put it? "Witchcraft and heresy made flesh." They hadn't been really clear about the details, but they had clearly implied that daemons were made of Warp-stuff. At the time, you though they were being vague because nobody wanted to hear about it, but now you suspect it's because they just didn't know themselves. Still, now that you know a little more about the Warp, you can understand what they were referring to.
You try to think back if the Tech-Priests had said anything similar, but you didn't think so. Most of the Mechanicus services had been more practical than spiritual. After one particularly hectic week, you had all been treated to a very long and pointed lecture on the Omnissiah's opinion of improper maintenance. No, you don't remember them saying anything about the Warp.
So, that's all you've got. Daemons are made out of the Warp.
Actually, does the book mention daemons? You flip back through, but it barely talks about them. It warns about them in a few places– the introduction is one– but it's essentially nothing you haven't heard over the pulpit before. It says they come from the Warp, of course– but you knew that already.
So either there's something else in the Warp, or daemons are more dangerous than you've been told. You're beginning to suspect it's the latter, and the more you think about it, the more certain you are. The thought has the sort of bitter taste to it that the truth usually has, and it wouldn't be the first time someone's lied about your safety.
Everywhere you turn, more and more mysteries and unanswered questions. One false step, and you're dead. Part of you wishes it was somebody else's problem. But it's not. It's the Inquisition's job to inquire. You're not an Inquisitor, but that doesn't exempt you from the duty to investigate. Well, you should really start pulling your weight there, but you don't even know where to start. You'll just have to pick one of them and try to be as helpful as you can.
Mysteries aside, you think you've got a firm idea of what the Warp is, and you think you're making good progress towards mastering the more complex equations involved. And even though the author seems to have made it as boring as they possibly could, it's still fascinating reading. With the right equipment, you could leave this world behind entirely. Technically, you've already done that, but the idea still fills you with awe. With a little more reading and some practice, you think you'll have gotten everything you can out of the book.
So even with all this, it's been a good day, you decide. Not only did you get your own room again, you got a really fancy room. And the bed is amazing. Half of you wonders if lying on it this much is some kind of sin, and the other half of you is trying to figure out a way to smuggle it off the planet. You wriggle into it, smiling sleepily.
You drift off, and dream of equations written in blood.
4d100 = 75, 13, 27, 72 = 187
Gettting anything more: DC 100 = 40 + 20 = 60
[The Warp] is revealed to be Forbidden -> Completed
[Physics: The Warp][Forbidden] -> 174/400
[The Threat Beyond] is revealed to be Forbidden, and is now Stalled.
{ }
You wander through the back hallways of the governor's palace, looking for somewhere quiet to practice your... you still don't know what to call it. Calling it your "power" is overwrought, and a little presumptuous, besides, but you're not sure what else to call it. "Fear" just sounds like you're some kind of two-bit villain from a fable. And after thinking it over, you're definitely sure that "Blank-ness" isn't a word.
You're so preoccupied that you barely notice the guards standing beside the door until you're right in front of them. They stiffen for a moment, and one of them opens their mouth, then shuts it and stares at you silently for few seconds. When she talks, her voice is extremely polite. "What can we do for you, ma'am?"
It takes you a full two seconds to realize that the "ma'am" they're addressing is you. It takes you another five seconds to figure out what in the Emperor's name you're supposed to make of that. Eventually, you just decide to let it pass without comment.
"Is this room unoccupied?" you ask them quietly.
"Er," she says, "let me check, ma'am," and slips inside, leaving you outside with her companion. You glance at him. He gives a weird little half-bow and continues standing at attention. Oh, Throne. Are you supposed to say anything? Are you supposed to bow back? This man is looking right at you and you don't know what to do–
Oh, thank the Emperor, he's looking away now. You elect to just give him an awkward nod in reply and hope that's not too rude.
You hear some noises from behind the door, gradually getting louder. Eventually, you can make out voices– some kind of conversation? It sounds rushed. You can just make out two people speaking, one low and agitated, one higher and irritated.
"My Lady, I am terribly sorry, but she specifically asked that the room–"
"Really, Colonel! I don't think it's necessary to presume her intentions from one..."
The door opens, and you find yourself face to face with a woman that looks... familiar? You try to place her, but you can't quite figure out where you'd have seen someone like her before. She's blond, blue-eyed, and wearing a dress that probably costs a few small fortunes. You don't know her, that's for sure, but... well, she looks like a lot of models you see on recruitment material, so it's probably that.
And now she's staring at you with her mouth half-open. Right. It looks like the guards took your question as an order, so you basically just barged into her room and demanded she get out. You frantically rehearse a half-dozen apologies before just giving each up as a lost cause.
"Hello," you say, then immediately fight the urge to hide in the nearest corner. Yes, Ariadne, that's just what this lady wants to hear after you've rudely evicted her. Introductions.
"Hello," she says, after a moment, looking slightly put off. Oh no. "I'm... delighted to make your acquaintance." Oh no. "Sorry for all that, I, uh, I'll be seeing, you later?" She gives you a strained smile, then turns and walks away. Wishing you could just melt into a puddle right then and there, you walk inside, close the door, and shove your face in your hands.
Then you pull your face out of your hands, take a deep breath, and take a look around. You have no idea what this room's supposed to be, but it looks nice. There's a wooden desk in the center, covered in some papers. You decide not to pry. You've already imposed enough...
You sit down to practice, and then stop. You don't actually know what you did down there in the underhive. You just turned off your augmentations and started mentally... pushing? Your memory is kind of hazy, but maybe you'll learn by doing.
Well, the first thing to do is to turn off the implants. You don't quite know how your implants work: you just concentrate in a specific way, and they turn off or on. Concentrate in another way, and you can tweak their power output, although that's a little bit more fiddly. By now, it's second nature to you. You're intensely curious how they actually work– I mean, how do your thoughts activate something mechanical? Even if they weren't fascinating pieces of machinery, they're now stuck in your head for the rest of your life. But when you had asked Magos Felix about the details, you had just gotten an earful of incomprehensible jargon and binharic, and you're a little too unnnerved by the man to ask him again.
With a twist of though, the impants go off. You try that same mental push to extend your powers, but nothing happens. Maybe you did it wrong? You spend some time concentrating in different ways. You try focusing on the area around you, on yourself, on your memories of what happened. But nothing happens. Finally, you try focusing, but not on anything in particular. You just focus on being focused. After a few minutes of nothing happening, you get that strange pins-and-needles feeling across your face again.
In your excitement, it slips away. You try again a few times, but nothing happens. At least... you think nothing happens. You realize you don't know if it's actually working. You don't feel any different. It's useful that you can figure out how to push yourself a little, but you don't think you're going to make much progress if you can't tell what effect said pushes have.
With a sigh, you get up and get ready to leave. It looks like you'll need to find someone to help you...
1d100 = 78 / 2 = 39
Nameless Fear = 39/???
Nameless Fear is Stalled until you find someone to train with.
XP held in reserve until Nameless Fear is no longer Stalled
{ }
You're suprised at how simple it is to hitch a ride to the late Lord Angelos' mansion. You'd expected more questions, but when you say you're going over to assist Interrogator Iona, nobody bats an eye. You're simply given a seat on the next shuttle out.
You touch down on a landing pad like the one in the Governor's palace. Once you set foot insie, you're surprised by just how similar it is. There are paintings, sculptures, little shrines, all spread out in the same way as they are in the Governor's palace. It's not exactly identical, but if you didn't know better you'd think you were in another wing of the governor's palace. You even think the air is perfumed the same way.
You follow some Scions through the passageways of the mansion. The place is nearly abandoned: no servants bustling about, and no lords step out to greet you. Nervous soldiers that must be from the PDF salute you as you walk through the outer corridors. But again, nobody so much as stops you. Even as you get further into the mansion, where fresh scorch marks dot the walls and where the PDF guard is replaced by other Scions, you're simply waved through.
As you arrive at the ornate doors to the late Lord Angelos' private chambers, you're still puzzled. Then the doors swing open, and the mystery begins to unravel. There is no perfume on the air that billows forth from within, only a musty odor and the faint smell of rot. As you walk through the rooms, you take stock of your surroundings, and the mystery begins to unravel.
The rooms must have been extravagant. Instead of paintings being mounted on the walls in frames, it looks like artists painted directly on the walls themselves. In addition to the scuptures placed in alcoves, the columns of the room have been delicately chiseled into various shapes. Here and there around the room are luxurious furniture, and placed in the corners are what must have been rare or fragrant plants.
Yes, it must have been beautiful, but no more. The painted walls are dull with grime and splattered with dried blood, and some are so riddled with gouges and scorch marks that it's hard to tell anything's painted on them at all. The columns are chipped and broken, and some of the sculptures have been shattered. The furniture is broken and even filthier than the walls. The plants are bare skeletons, their leaves lying in blackened piles around their pots.
The room is lit by floodlights that the Inquisition must have brought in. It looks like the original lighting is missing. It's hard to tell, but you think it's been physically ripped out of the ceiling. If you squint, you think you can see claw marks around the edges of the holes. No wonder the guards weren't suspicious. Nobody would want to come into this place. Honestly, you'd be more worried about someone getting out. You're tempted to leave yourself, but it's too late for that now.
Eventually, you find yourself in a large room, far warmer than the others. In one corner, there's a furnace, squat and grim, casting a flickering light across the room. In the other, a massive pile of something, surrounded by floodlights. You hear Interrogator Iona before you see her. "Yes, that one can go in the incinerator. No, not that one. The one with the slime on it. Use the tongs, unless you're volunterring as a test subject? No? Not even for hazard pay? Smart man."
You walk towards the pile, since it sounds like the voices are coming from behind it. As you approach it, you can see that it's made of... well, stuff, for lack of a better word. You spy books, clothes, jewelry, even entire pieces of furniture, haphazardly piled together. It doesn't smell as bad as you expected– but that might just be because it's been here a while. There's a fair bit of dust on the pile.
"Miss Ariadne," says Interrogator Iona, "it's quite rude to sneak up on people."
You jump and whirl around. Iona is standing right next to you. In full power armor. How did she...?
"Um, sorry," you respond, thinking quickly. You hate coming with excuses on the spot. You didn't mean to sneak up on her, of course, but telling peope that never seems to work well...
"Oh, well, since you're so polite about it, I'll have to forgive you." She smiles, the white of her teeth a sharp contrast to her dusky skin. You're not reassured by the expression on her face. There's something a little too jocular about it. "So, here on the Inquisitor's orders, or eager for your slice of the pie?"
It seems like a pit opens up in your stomach, and you begin to rehearse a plausible story, wracking your brain for statements by the Inquisitor that might justify your trip here. If she figures out you just came here to see what you could get, you could be in for a world of hurt. Damn it all, you should have seen the question coming and prepared in advance. Stupid, stupid, stupid!
"If it's the latter, you can relax," says Iona airily, "because as of two days ago this is all property of the Inquisition." She- She doesn't care? You step back forward, and open your mouth to apologize again. But Iona's already turned around, and you're left staring at the back of her stark-white bob cut. "Come on," she says, "I'm glad to have the help."
You follow her over to the other side of the pile. "Behold, the great wealth of David Angelos, Lord of House Angelos, scion of the Great Houses of Thalassa, blah blah blah."
The silence drags for a bit, and you wonder if she's expecting a response. "It's..." uh, what are you supposed to say here? You can't exactly compliment it, because it's a heretic's treasure, but you can't exactly lie about it, either. "It's a lot of stuff," you manage.
"Sure is," says Iona, tapping her chin. "Funny thing, though... you'd think a noble of his stature would have more– or at least, more that was worth a damn."
She thinks it's worthless? You peer over at the pile. You see plenty of things that even you could sell quite easily. Some of the rattier furniture could probably be swapped for a few rations. Plenty of dust and grime, but nothing a little elbow grease wouldn't fix. And the smaller stuff would sell even better. You could have bought your way off the station with even a tenth of this stuff...
"Well, since you're here," says Iona briskly, "let's get to work. Here," she gestures at a small group of artifacts. "Turn on your... er, power? Then hold these." You blink down at the stuff. You don't see anything particularly interesting about them, but if she's asking you to hold them, she must think they're psychically active.
"Just... hold them?" you say, still uncertain.
"Yes. Unless you can do something else?" she asks.
Well, can you do something else? "Uh," you say, not sure how to respond for a moment. "No, not reliably," you decide.
"Oh, now that sounds exciting," says Iona, and you turn to see her grinning. "But for now, just turn your power on and hold them. Don't forget the gloves."
Slightly unsettled, you pick of the first item. It's a jug of some kind... with some art on it? You peer at it, but you can't tell what it means. Nothing happens, and Iona tells you to put it down. Then you pick up the statue of a woman. Then some kind of crystal. You pick up a variety of objects, none of which react to your touch.
Until you pick up a large urn, grunting slightly at the weight, Iona gestures for you to put it down, and you frown as you do so. Something feels slightly weird about it. "I think," you begin, but that's as far as you get before the urn cracks as it hits the ground. "I'm really sorry–" you say, but Iona cuts you off.
"Don't apologize, this is the best thing to happen today! Look," she says excitedly, pointing at the cracks in the urn. You can see something white underneath. "Stand back," she says, and gives the jug a hefty kick. Her power-armored boot makes short work of the urn, cracking it like an egg. Chunks of pottery fall away. Underneath the plain outer surface of the urn is some kind of white stuff.
"Wraithbone," Iona breathes. "Fascinating." She takes her gauntleted hands and begins carefully pulling off the remnants of the urn. Eventually, she steps back, and you look at what she's uncovered. Underneath the outer layer of pottery is another urn. Someone must have covered it in clay to hide it. This one is slimmer, and you don't recognize the material it's made out of. It calls to mind ceramics– it's white, and ever-so-slightly translucent, like it's been glazed. But it has a polished sheen to it, like metal or glass.
You bend down, looking at it with curiosity. The art is deeply strange. Parts of it are extremely detailed, but parts of it are vague and full of hazy shapes. It reminds you of a half-loaded picture, still full of blank spaces and pixelated outlines. You see... snow-capped mountains, you think? Some kind of spiky thing. You see insects of some kind... is that a butterfly? And woven around it all, a black serpent, covered in red eyes. It's surreal and vaguely ominous, but still beautiful.
A chunk of the urn's bottom is missing. Peering closer, you can see that it's actually got two ragged holes in the bottom. You wonder what could have caused that kind of damage. It's too clean for a violent impact, but too messy for some kind of tool. Some kind of acid, maybe? The tiny holes next to the big ones might match a stray droplet of solvent. But the edges are gently scalloped– too smooth for the work of something strong enough to eat its way through metal.
"Touch it again," says Iona suddenly.
"What?" you say, confused.
"Touch it again," Iona says, with a slightly dangerous-looking grin on her face. "I've got a hunch."
Bemused, you reach out to the urn, and gasp. Your fingers go straight through the urn's side, barely meeting any resistance. As you watch, stunned, the white substance around your hand begins to disappear. The gap spreads, like you dropped ink in water– only instead of ink, you had managed to trap nothing in a bottle. The substance makes no noise as it vanishes, and leaves nothing behind. You yank back your hand and pull off the thick rubber glove to take a close look at it, but it seems the same as it always is.
You stare at the hole your hand made in the white urn. Iona's kick didn't even dent the thing, but somehow... "What," you manage. You turn to Iona, who's putting a recorder down.
"It's wraithbone," Iona says. "A material the Aeldari use. Some people claim it's a purely physical compound, but I'd say we've just disproved that. Others claim it's corporeal psychic energy, absurd as that sounds. And given what just happened here, I'd say they're right."
"Eldar?" you say nervously. "This- this is xenotech?" And you'd thought it looked so nice, too! At least you hadn't said that out loud...
"Yes, it's technically xenotechnology, but calling it 'technology' of any kind is really a stretch, if you ask me. Wraithbone usually doesn't really do anything without an Eldar to use it. Apparently they shape it with psionics, but I've never seen that in person, unfortunately."
You think you're actually pretty fine not seeing xenos witchcraft yourself, but you're not the Interrogator. Still, you admit, the stuff– wraithbone, she called it? It's interesting, in a eerie sort of way. You look at the hole in the urn. Now that you've pulled your hand back, the hole has stopped growing. In fact, as you watch in horrified fascination, it even seems to be repairing itself– the harsh, almost sawtooth edges of the gap have softened into a gentler edge.
"Um," you say, "it's growing back."
"Oh yes, it does that," says Iona conversationally. You stare at her in disbelief. The weird alien thing in the room is growing like some kind of plant, and her response is 'of course'? From her tone, you'd think you were telling her that repair work was dull or that space was cold.
"Well," says Iona briskly, "that was fun. Put that glove back on, and let's try our luck again."
You pick up the rest of the objects, but though you both peer at them carefully every time you pick them up, nothing happens. Iona breaks all the pots, just in case, but they're all just clay underneath. Iona seems a little put out by that, but you're relieved when it's over. You decide you're instituting a policy of one weird thing per day, if you can help it.
"Back to the pile," Iona sighs. You perk up at that.
{ }
The pile turns out to be full of literal treasure. Gold and silver coins, of course, but you think some of this might actually be worth more than its weight in either. You have to resist the urge to grab at everything you see and stick it in your pockets. It might not be safe, you remind yourself. Still, it's almost physically painful to watch the Scions hurl it all into the fire. More than one perfectly good wardrobe meets a fiery end.
Some of the items are truly unsalvageable, though. You encounter a few things that look like they've been drooled on by something, and the Scions toss those in the furnace immediately. A few books look to have been gnawed on. It might be rats or worms, but it might not be. Iona decides to toss them in the fire, just to be safe.
Now and then you encounter a stray bone, and those have definitely been gnawed on. Those, you learn, go in another corner instead of the incinerator. "We're still not sure who the damned fool ate," Iona says, apparently guessing the question from the expression on your face. "We've got a team in another room, trying to reassmble the remains with genetic testing. Apparently Cleistos is trying to determine whether Angelos still has an heir to prosecute. Pointless, in my opinion, but he can be a real stickler for following the letter of the law."
As you dig through the enormous pile, you notice a pattern. It takes you a few minutes to carefully work out a phrasing that shouldn't be blasphemous, and a few minutes more to ask Iona. "Interrogator, may I ask a question?"
"Sure," says Iona casually.
"Angelos was a heretic," you say, trying to inject confidence into that statement, to show you're not doubting or wavering. "So why do most of his things have holy images on them?" You hold your breath, hoping she doesn't take it the wrong way.
"Good question," says Iona. "The reason he paid to have saints and aquilas on everything is because he's a heretic. Ah, not because those are heretical," she says, catching the confusion on your face, "no, it's because they're holy. Now obviously, he's dead, and we can't know his mind without a psychic probe, but I think he felt guilty about it. Not guilty enough to change his ways, but I'm sure he felt he owed something to the Emperor for his misbehavior. And he tried to pay it back with... Well, this," she says, and waves at the pile of luxuries in front of you.
"It's ridiculous. You can't buy off the Emperor. Just the idea of it is galling. And even supposing that you could, there's no pockets in a shroud. The only thing a person brings before the Golden Throne is the record of their deeds." She sighs.
"But he didn't really get that. All men like him know is trading favors and buying loyalty, hoarding the family fortune and upholding the honor of his line. Really, all of these gilded saints are just hush money. Some part of Angelos knew he was going to be put on trial for his crimes. And like most nobles do, he tried to buy his way out. He probably thought he was making some great sacrifice by spending the family money on this... Frankly, I don't know how the Sisters of the Famulous stand it. I'd be breaking out my flamer by the second week."
The rest of the work progresses with little fanfare. Several hours later, Iona declares that you're done for today, and you turn your eyes to the small pile of treasures you've accumulated. Iona holds up a hand to forestall you.
"Only three," says Iona firmly. "You've earned yourself a reward, but this isn't Sanguinala, and if Claritus finds out I've been spoiling you, she'll give me hell for it." You gaze longingly at the all the things laid out before you, but you have no room to argue, and three is better than none. It's a tough choice, but in the end you make your decision.
{ }
That night, you can't sleep. Your mind keeps looping back to the events of three days ago. The scramble in the dark. The feeling of your first kill. The witch shouting, and the unnatural jaws that had closed about Telos' shoulder. The glowing mouth had smiled before biting Telos. Did the witch make it smile like that, or did it do that on its own? ...Never mind. You don't want to know.
The Dark Prince will eat your soul...
You get a cold feeling of foreboding, and you shift nervously under the covers. How are you supposed to feel about any of this? Nothing you've ever read or heard has prepared you for this. These memories just don't go away. They make you want to pace, or shout, or... Or something. Anything, if they'll stop running through your mind.
Well if they won't go away on their own, you'll just have to make them go away. You grit your teeth and imagine the nasty thoughts are an ugly little bug. Then you imagine stepping on it and grinding your heel as hard as you can. You turn over and will yourself to sleep. You drift into an uneasy slumber, dreaming of false smiles and writhing serpents.
Do not gain the Trait Iron Will, but you are now more likely to gain it in the future.
{ }
So many secrets, so little time. What mystery will you help solve?
[X] [SECRET] The Lords. The nobility of Chorale is quiet, so some of them must be up to something. Find out who and what.
[X] [SECRET] The Device. A nightmare from the outermost reaches of space found its way to a human noble. Try to figure out how and why.
[X] [SECRET] The Cult. A seditious cult is engaged in unmentionable heresy. They have to be meeting somehow– but when and where?
You can't really develop your abilities if you don't have someone who's not a Blank to work with. Should you go looking for one right now?
[X] [NULL] No. You have other things to do.
-[X] Hit the gym.
-[X] Keep calm and read on.
-[X] Explore the Governor's palace.
-[X] Practice your marksmanship on the shooting range.
-[X] Slack off.
[X] [NULL] Yes. You will ask...
-[X] Interrogator Telos, since she has already experienced the effects of your abilities.
-[X] Interrogator Iona, since she may be interested.
-[X] The Inquisitor, to see if he can find someone suitable.
You took three items out of Angelos' hoard. What were they? (Vote for as many as you want. The three with the most votes will be chosen.)
[X] [LOOT] A stubber pistol. Not nearly as powerful as your lasrifle, but excellently crafted, and it fits perfectly in your hands.
[X] [LOOT] A small bag full of of nice clothes. A greatcoat, scarves, gloves, two hats, some pairs of socks, stockings, and even a dress.
[X] [LOOT] A beautifully illuminated prayer book. You're not sure it's your kind of thing– but even if you wind up not liking it, it would make a excellent gift for someone else.
[X] [LOOT] A trombone. You have no idea how to play it, but it might be fun.
[X] [LOOT] A spyglass. Unfortunately, it doesn't telescope out, but it does have an infrared mode and laser rangefinder.
[X] [LOOT] A hard drive. Enough space to store nearly all the information you want, crammed inside a case sturdy enough to survive a Valkyrie crash.
Some skills are more difficult to improve than others. Improving them may be more taxing, or progress may simply be harder to make. Some skills do not have many opportunities for practice, and so progress tends to be erratic. On occasion, you may find that you have no further means to advance a skill. Such skills are Stalled. Mechanically, this means that you can't advance any further on them. Typically, you can remove the Stalled modifier from skills by meeting certain conditions.
The powers that be have a vested interest in suppressing certain abilities and knowledge. If any helpful information on these subjects exists, it's either highly controlled or entirely unsanctioned. Improving your abilities here will be difficult and probably dangerous. Even if the study is not inherently risky, you will always be risking the displeasure of those in power. These skills are Forbidden.
Forbidden skills range from the reasonably innocuous, such as political theories or historical facts that the Imperium's rulers find inconvenient, to the truly horrifying, such as the psychic technologies that perpetrated the worst atrocities of the Age of Strife. In nearly all cases, you can expect failures to be more common and more severe.
It is possible to suppress the dangers of researching Forbidden skills if you have somebody to teach you. Of course, that's easier said than done, and learning from another has risks of its own. Some skills are not labeled as Forbidden in advance, although this is fairly rare. Generally speaking, the authorities will let you know they do or do not consider acceptable.
[X] [SECRET] The Cult. A seditious cult is engaged in unmentionable heresy. They have to be meeting somehow– but when and where?
[X] [NULL] No. You have other things to do.
-[X] Practice your marksmanship on the shooting range.
[X] [LOOT] A stubber pistol. Not nearly as powerful as your lasrifle, but excellently crafted, and it fits perfectly in your hands.
[X] [LOOT] A small bag full of of nice clothes. A greatcoat, scarves, gloves, two hats, some pairs of socks, stockings, and even a dress.
[X] [LOOT] A spyglass. Unfortunately, it doesn't telescope out, but it does have an infrared mode and laser rangefinder.
[X] [SECRET] The Lords. The nobility of Chorale is quiet, so some of them must be up to something. Find out who and what.
[X] [NULL] Yes. You will ask...
-[X] The Inquisitor, to see if he can find someone suitable.
[X] [LOOT] A stubber pistol. Not nearly as powerful as your lasrifle, but excellently crafted, and it fits perfectly in your hands.
[X] [LOOT] A spyglass. Unfortunately, it doesn't telescope out, but it does have an infrared mode and laser rangefinder.
[X] [LOOT] A hard drive. Enough space to store nearly all the information you want, crammed inside a case sturdy enough to survive a Valkyrie crash.
Hmm, would the stub pistol be more accurate than our lasrifle, because of being better made; or is that balanced out by it being a pistol rather than a rifle?
I'm not sure how much use we'd get out if it purely as a back-up weapon, if so.
As for the other items, I'm personally drawn to the clothes, the spyglass and maybe the prayer book.
Hmm, would the stub pistol be more accurate than our lasrifle, because of being better made; or is that balanced out by it being a pistol rather than a rifle?
I'm not sure how much use we'd get out if it purely as a back-up weapon, if so.
As for the other items, I'm personally drawn to the clothes, the spyglass and maybe the prayer book.
It's useful to have a backup, or a weapon that's easier to conceal than a lasgun if we're trying to be inconspicuous. The bullets will be the same as any other stub pistol, so it's also a lot less suspicious than a body riddled with lasgun fire, if the need for subtlety ever arises.
[X] [SECRET] The Cult. A seditious cult is engaged in unmentionable heresy. They have to be meeting somehow– but when and where?
[X] [NULL] Yes. You will ask...
-[X] Interrogator Iona, since she may be interested.
[X] [LOOT] A stubber pistol. Not nearly as powerful as your lasrifle, but excellently crafted, and it fits perfectly in your hands.
[X] [LOOT] A small bag full of of nice clothes. A greatcoat, scarves, gloves, two hats, some pairs of socks, stockings, and even a dress.
[X] [LOOT] A beautifully illuminated prayer book. You're not sure it's your kind of thing– but even if you wind up not liking it, it would make a excellent gift for someone else.
Holdout weapon is handy, and the last fight did show us that we might get seperated from our lasrifle. The clothes hopefully help us with our crippling lack of charisma and the book is handy since we just finished our current reading material. Also keeping a prayer book in your possession in the Imperium is just good sense.
[X] [SECRET] The Cult. A seditious cult is engaged in unmentionable heresy. They have to be meeting somehow– but when and where? [X] [NULL] No. You have other things to do.
-[X] Explore the Governor's palace.
[X] [LOOT] A small bag full of of nice clothes. A greatcoat, scarves, gloves, two hats, some pairs of socks, stockings, and even a dress.
[X] [LOOT] A beautifully illuminated prayer book. You're not sure it's your kind of thing– but even if you wind up not liking it, it would make a excellent gift for someone else.
[X] [LOOT] A spyglass. Unfortunately, it doesn't telescope out, but it does have an infrared mode and laser rangefinder.
With a little more reading and some practice, you think you'll have gotten everything you can out of the book.
So even with all this, it's been a good day, you decide. Not only did you get your own room again, you got a really fancy room. And the bed is amazing. Half of you wonders if lying on it this much is some kind of sin, and the other half of you is trying to figure out a way to smuggle it off the planet. You wriggle into it, smiling sleepily.
You drift off, and dream of equations written in blood.
Ooooo that's not good. I'm not that worried about actual Attention, the Warp is infinite and this is basically an infinitesimal mote of its nature leaking through if it isn't just memories getting rejiggered. If it isn't memories though I'd hold this particular thing up as evidence that Blanks do have souls, just negative space wedgie versions of them.
You're so preoccupied that you barely notice the guards standing beside the door until you're right in front of them. They stiffen for a moment, and one of them opens their mouth, then shuts it and stares at you silently for few seconds. When she talks, her voice is extremely polite. "What can we do for you, ma'am?"
It takes you a full two seconds to realize that the "ma'am" they're addressing is you. It takes you another five seconds to figure out what in the Emperor's name you're supposed to make of that. Eventually, you just decide to let it pass without comment.
"Is this room unoccupied?" you ask them quietly.
"Er," she says, "let me check, ma'am," and slips inside, leaving you outside with her companion. You glance at him. He gives a weird little half-bow and continues standing at attention. Oh, Throne. Are you supposed to say anything? Are you supposed to bow back? This man is looking right at you and you don't know what to do–
> Guards see pale Voidborne lady with dark black hair walk up, they reflexively straighten as they identify she's connected to the Inquisition and feel that unease. (IIRC she wears a rosette or other identifier)
> Prayers are probably made that she passes them by. Ariadne pauses and turns to look at them.
> Guards look back and one asks her business as training dictates. Ariadne is silent.
> Ariadne speaks quietly, probably looking through them to the door. Guards start processing how to handle this "request"
> One guard goes in to evict one person. The other stays and tries to have a staring contest with a Blank, probably feeling like hives are breaking out on their spine.
> The noble in the office comes out and then the Blank says hello.
> Blank goes in, there's a likely burst of spine chilling unease and then leaves after some time. Poor lass we evicted accidentally probably thinks we searched her stuff.
This situation is both hilarious and pretty sucky from both directions.
You touch down on a landing pad like the one in the Governor's palace. Once you set foot insie, you're surprised by just how similar it is. There are paintings, sculptures, little shrines, all spread out in the same way as they are in the Governor's palace. It's not exactly identical, but if you didn't know better you'd think you were in another wing of the governor's palace. You even think the air is perfumed the same way.
"Oh, well, since you're so polite about it, I'll have to forgive you." She smiles, the white of her teeth a sharp contrast to her dusky skin. You're not reassured by the expression on her face. There's something a little too jocular about it. "So, here on the Inquisitor's orders, or eager for your slice of the pie?"
It seems like a pit opens up in your stomach, and you begin to rehearse a plausible story, wracking your brain for statements by the Inquisitor that might justify your trip here. If she figures out you just came here to see what you could get, you could be in for a world of hurt. Damn it all, you should have seen the question coming and prepared in advance. Stupid, stupid, stupid!
"If it's the latter, you can relax," says Iona airily, "because as of two days ago this is all property of the Inquisition." She- She doesn't care? You step back forward, and open your mouth to apologize again. But Iona's already turned around, and you're left staring at the back of her stark-white bob cut. "Come on," she says, "I'm glad to have the help."
Well, can you do something else? "Uh," you say, not sure how to respond for a moment. "No, not reliably," you decide.
"Oh, now that sounds exciting," says Iona, and you turn to see her grinning. "But for now, just turn your power on and hold them. Don't forget the gloves."
Huh, she's surprisingly like casual. How odd. Seems kind of worth it to poke her to see what falls out. She might be someone who Ari can learn other things besides Blank stuff from.
A chunk of the urn's bottom is missing. Peering closer, you can see that it's actually got two ragged holes in the bottom. You wonder what could have caused that kind of damage. It's too clean for a violent impact, but too messy for some kind of tool. Some kind of acid, maybe? The tiny holes next to the big ones might match a stray droplet of solvent. But the edges are gently scalloped– too smooth for the work of something strong enough to eat its way through metal.
"Touch it again," says Iona suddenly.
"What?" you say, confused.
"Touch it again," Iona says, with a slightly dangerous-looking grin on her face. "I've got a hunch."
Bemused, you reach out to the urn, and gasp. Your fingers go straight through the urn's side, barely meeting any resistance. As you watch, stunned, the white substance around your hand begins to disappear. The gap spreads, like you dropped ink in water– only instead of ink, you had managed to trap nothing in a bottle. The substance makes no noise as it vanishes, and leaves nothing behind. You yank back your hand and pull off the thick rubber glove to take a close look at it, but it seems the same as it always is.
You stare at the hole your hand made in the white urn. Iona's kick didn't even dent the thing, but somehow... "What," you manage. You turn to Iona, who's putting a recorder down.
Well I don't think Ari is going to be walking around on any Eldar ships any time soon if her implants are off. She'd probably go right through the deck plating like xenomorph blood did through the Nostromo.
So many secrets, so little time. What mystery will you help solve?
[X] [SECRET] The Device. A nightmare from the outermost reaches of space found its way to a human noble. Try to figure out how and why.
So one thing I'm rather bothered by is the link between the Device and how it ended up in the hands of Angelos. That sounds like it might have connections off world and I want more plot hooks in general so this is a good choice for plot hooks in the Sector as a whole. E: Oops lol forgot to edit out the other two votes when copy pasting.
[X] [NULL] Yes. You will ask...
-[X] Interrogator Iona, since she may be interested.
I'd like to poke her and see what happens. Her interest is definitely a sort of plot hook and while Telos might work, she'd probably be on a roll as to whether she'd refuse or not. Iona's interest is more welcoming so any such roll on her part might be easier and she's well basically performing the one social paradigm Ari has to make friends. Someone reaching out to Ari, since Ari doesn't really have the tools to do it herself.
You took three items out of Angelos' hoard. What were they? (Vote for as many as you want. The three with the most votes will be chosen.)
[X] [LOOT] A stubber pistol. Not nearly as powerful as your lasrifle, but excellently crafted, and it fits perfectly in your hands.
[X] [LOOT] A small bag full of of nice clothes. A greatcoat, scarves, gloves, two hats, some pairs of socks, stockings, and even a dress.
[X] [LOOT] A beautifully illuminated prayer book. You're not sure it's your kind of thing– but even if you wind up not liking it, it would make a excellent gift for someone else.
As others have noted having a well crafted holdout gun is really nice, and is basically as ubiquitous as a Lasrifle while also being very easy to conceal. Being armed at all times we can get away with it is wise in the business of Inquisitors, especially if we're called up as part of the Retinue to help defend the Inquisitor which is technically part of our job. The clothing I want because Ari seemed interested in them and a greatcoat is cool. I hope one of the hats is really stylish. The book because I'm wondering if such an illustrated manuscript might not help with Ari's art as inspiration.
Perhaps not the best source, but its the first option I've seen that I like for that.
Overall I'm not too disappointed with our skill rolls, and they serve as a great introduction for the Stalled mechanic which I rather like. Good job on implementing that Horologer, its going to be an interesting dimension to play with I think.
Hmm, would the stub pistol be more accurate than our lasrifle, because of being better made; or is that balanced out by it being a pistol rather than a rifle?
I'm not sure how much use we'd get out if it purely as a back-up weapon, if so.
As for the other items, I'm personally drawn to the clothes, the spyglass and maybe the prayer book.
It'd be less accurate most likely, since las weapons are pulse laser weapons they have rather good range. A lot of their problems at range are attenuation based.
