Grim Dark Tech Support: A Dark Mechanicum Quest

Bespoke
[Roll: 8-Doxa-Krainaima: Servitorisation: 3d6: 5,1,6: Success)
Legs
[Roll: Regicia Ko-Bea: Cybernetics: 4d6: 5,6,6,3: Critical Success)
Spoken
[Roll: Eta-Nu 9-35: Biological Engineering: 6,4,2,4]
Both
[Roll: Myges Talef: Cogitator Architecture: 4d6: 4,1,4,6: Success]
[Roll: Theama-Nul: Warpcraft: 3d6: 4,5,1: Partial Success]

Beauty has never much played a role in your considerations: yours is a world of pragmatic, brute-force functionality, with aesthetic considerations never playing into your plans even a little bit. And yet, still, as you regard the finished product of your labor, you are struck with the odd thought that it is not merely functional, but also, in its own odd way, beautiful. Eight cages stand on thin, spindly legs, the cogitators required for them to function hidden cunningly within their bases. Within them, pseudo-avian creatures sit upon circuitry made to look like metal branches, their legs connected directly to the wires that send the thing within their commands.

You did not grant them ears, or eyes, and even the feathers are only there at the insistence of Regicia: all they can do is trill, with no hope of recognizing what their trills represent.

That task falls to the Cogitator Myges Talef has built into the base of the cage, turning the output of the bird into recognizable language that can then be transmitted to an ordinary Vox Set.

What remains of the Hand of Transformation stands in the center of the eight cages, walking on bird-clawed legs as you go to turn over your creation. You have not given its back its arms, and its eyes and ears are gone, replaced by seals of Theama-Nul's creation. Instead of it's arms, you have given it a joke, six more cages attached to it, each corresponding to one of the cages that now skitter around it. It moves surprisingly fast, for all the weight placed on it: Regicia has once again outdone herself, the legs she has attached to the machines more than capable of keeping up and even outperforming any humans the cages might find themselves needing to follow.

"The only wrinkle is the security", you explain to Lady Czevene, who listens to what you have to say with a face that may as well be made of stone. "The encryption is state of the art, and will be incredibly difficult to crack, and my subordinate has applied wards to guard against warp-based interception, but, well…"

You look to Theama-Nul, for this is, after all, his mess.

The Magos does, to their credit, cut in smoothly: "It is extremely unlikely that any will be able to intercept the message, but the wards I applied are…less subtle then I would have hoped for. A sufficiently motivated opponent will be able to trace the messages, with some degree of accuracy. "

Lady Czevene nods, seemingly deep in thought. You do not complain when her next words are spoken directly into your mind. It is likely that she's not even noticing she is doing it, at this point. "A useful tool, even if it hinders secrecy", she tells you, trying a smile that's somewhat undercut by the flashes of the half-formed beak that show up behind her lips. "Your presence here has been quite the boon. The Host of Ninefold Revelation owes you a debt beyond the provisioning of your ships. I have, as such, a proposition for you."

She waves to Enos Stok, the pale Commissar, who comes forward wielding a data slate. "We are offering a permanent detachment of a part of the Host's forces, to accompany you on your continued journey under your command. I have taken the liberty to draw up a few options for you."

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

[] Sephion 99th
The Sephion 99th, Czevene's own old Regiment, offers to send you a pack of Tzaangors, under the command of Greev Featherbeak, a Shaman of not inconsiderable talent. They will likely work well with your already existing Beastman complement, but their loyalty is without question to Czevene first, and they might give others the impression that you are more in thrall to Czevene and Tzeentch then you are comfortable with being.
[] 342nd Cadian Shock Troops
A complement of Cadian Shock Troops under Borj Karplin, complete with Taurox Vehicles to facilitate rapid movement and assault. A fairly balanced option whom you have worked with before: not too outstanding in any one field, but fairly competent in all.
[] 81st Maccabian Janissaries
You have heard of the Maccabian Janissaries, and seen the handiwork of this particular group of them within the Hive itself: a group of religious fanatics who have replaced one false god with another, made even more merciless and unrelenting in their betrayal. The ones Stok is offering you belong to what is labeled as a Heavy Flamer Platoon, under one Captain Kilfyre, and you are guessing part of the reason they are being offered to you is the fact Stok would rather not have them on the planet. Still, they might be very useful indeed.
[] 27th Praediphian Paladins
The offering of the Prediphian Paladins consists of a single Malcador Assault Tank, commanded, apparently, by Sir Gauvain and run in concert with his squires. It is a fairly heavy tank: likely to be useful in any situation that calls for a tank, and useless pretty much every other time.
[] 117th Tallarn Armored
The Tallarn Armored offers a battle group of three Leman Russ tanks, commanded by one Isaac Bannan: a little bit more flexible then a Malcador, at the cost of being a little bit less individually resilient, and of course still not very useful for anything that doesn't need a tank.

Still, having a tank might be pretty useful.
[] 72nd Sulavid Volunteers
These are….strange: a brief scan of the names within the platoon offered to you suggests a half-dozen different origins, and their armament suggests a somewhat more elite formation then the official classification of 'Penal Regiment' Stok has helpefully added might suggest. Skimming the summary reveals why: the Volunteers are made up of those seeking to escape punishment for their crimes within their home sector, and undergo grueling training in exchange for the relatively small number of questions asked of them when they join up. These particular ones are led by one Marius Olbert: a small group, but marked as 'Veterans'.
[] 18th Conarian Rangers
The Conarian Rangers used to be a conscript force from the Agri World of Conaria, and what they offer is pretty straightforward: they are poorly equipped, but the complement that would be sent with you has more than twice the number of any other options on the list. They are also, so Stok assures you, highly motivated and enthusiastic, though you're unsure whether that is a selling point or a warning.
[] 36th Moribundian Cavalry
The Moribundian Cavalry is one of those oddball regiments within the guard that uses living creatures to ride into battle: large quadrupedal lizards in their case. They're going to need more food, of course, but on the other hand there are still quite a few problems that can be solved with a cavalry charge, and of course men already used to dealing with giant, murderous animals might suit your own preferences for dealing with issues perfectly.

[] 54th Yulrasian Assault Regiment
The 54th Yulrasian Assault Regiment is offering you an Assault Section: a complement of thirty heavily-armored and armed troopers, backed up by a squad of five Ogryn and supported by five Auxiliaries recruited from the local mutants. They're heavy infantry, well suited for breaking open an enemy line in a wide variety of circumstances though probably somewhat slow to deploy there. They're also led by one Captain Medelin Koply, and have apparently volunteered to join you: your previous cooperation with the YAR will likely help with coordination with them now.
[] Refuse
You can do quite well without a group of armed people of dubious loyalty, thank you very much.

___________________________________________________________________________

The food is delivered to the Wilful Eternity quickly, but of course such a vast amount of goods still takes a while to unload. You are not, you consider, ungrateful for this: it gives you time both to write your report and to plan out what you wish to do over your journey. The first consideration, of course, is what to write for your report.

[] Comprehensive
You will write everything and leave nothing out, including the things they told you explicitly not to do. What are they going to do, punish you?
[] Focused
You are going to focus on the job, and just the job: everything else is none of their business.
[] Minimal
Is simply writing 'Task fulfilled' a deliberate misunderstanding of the order to summarize more? Yes. Doesn't mean you're not going to do it.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
[Pick one for each]
[Socialize]
[] Regicia Ko-Bea
[] Theama Nul
[] 8-Doxa-Krainaima
[] Myges Talef

[Research]
[] Secrets of Necrodermis 1/12
[] Secrets of Blackstone 1/12
[] Secrets of the Gene Seed 0/4
-[] Include Assistants
Project will gain an additional die, but failure on that die will result in something going wrong.
[Project]
[] Make a Monster
Write-in for the exact creature and its enhancements, though I reserve the right to adjust these to be tone appropriate. Your extensive database means that you probably have something that at least resembles any animal currently alive on Earth, though skewing towards the aggressive and predatory.

[] Learn a new Skill, or improve an old one
Write-in for what you wish to learn: generally, you can acquire a new skill within one downtime and improve a Tier 1 skill with two. Higher Tier Skills require acquisition of significant knowledge to improve further.

[] Other (Write-in)
Again, I reserve the right to adapt any write-ins somewhat, and might chime in ahead of time to clarify such. Still, you know.
Go wild.
-[] Include Assistants (Projects)
Project will gain an additional die, but failure on that die will result in something going wrong.

[Bonus Opportunity]
Choose a skill, any skill, you wish to improve or learn, in addition to any you might have picked as a project. If you're wondering why I'm being so generous, don't worry about it
[] (Write in)

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

I tried my very best to count the vote, though I might have still managed to miscount. I hope the results are to everyone's satisfaction nonetheless. Well, lesson learned: vote by plan for this one, please.

And that ends the second Chapter, which, as might have been noticeable, became a bit difficult for me to get through towards the end. Still, thank you to everyone who's been sticking around this far: I have plans for the next part, and I am looking forward to putting them into motion. That'll probably take a while, however: I am going to be on vacation for the next two weeks, and don't know if I'll get to write. Of course, writers block meant that updates took that long anyways in the past, but this time it's planned, I promise.

I am taking this opportunity to officially ask for feedback: what do people like, what do they dislike, and what do they want to see?

The Beacon of Blasphemy perched over the blackened surface of Magnicus Epsilon like a wolf over its prey, motionless relative to the movement of the world below. Once upon a time, ten millennia before, she had been the Emperor's Glory, seconded to the Luna Wolves to bring the Imperium and it's truth to the disparate remnants of humanity. She had been renamed twice: once when the Long War had begun, and she had become the Warmaster's Glory. The great Aquila on her bow had been struck down, the Eye of Horus put into its place, and the ship had gone from Istvaan III to Molech to Beta-Garmon to Terra. By the end, when Horus was struck down, the sea-green paint that had been painstakingly applied to it had been near scraped off, replaced by the craters and scorch marks of lance strikes and macrocannons.

It had been easy, then, to burn off its last remnants within the atmosphere of Fulgrum VI, when the Legion War had come to its climactic end and the First Black Crusade was just about to begin. The gold that trimmed her edges had come later, taken from the roofs of the Cathedrals of the Shrine World of Nekkon after they had been reduced to molten slag by strikes from her lances.

It was around that time she had earned her new name. It had never been changed consciously, to his awareness: at some point, the name spat out by the Transponders had simply changed, and none had dared to argue or reverse a change such as that.

At least that was what Skyraal had been able to piece together, from the oblique talk of the Veterans and the omophageal impressions he had gained from devouring the brain of his predecessor. He had not been born, then: would not be born for a several thousand years, and would don the black and gold for nearly two centuries more. To him, the Beacon of Blasphemy had always been the Beacon of Blasphemy.

He did not usually dwell on its history: how she had come to be what she was paled in relevance to what she was now.

He brushed his hand across the haft of his sword, letting the angry growling wash over his mind.

"You are being impatient, my Lord", Madwen Gult said, smiling within the depths of her hood. He looked at her, not bothering to hide his irritation, and she looked back with her single eye, unafraid and unblinking.

Madwen could see the day of her own death, or so she claimed. It made her almost impudently unafraid in situations she knew would not result in it.

It was, in a way, very calming. He would not hesitate to kill her, should she ever betray him, and she knew this very well. That she was so convinced that he had nothing to do with her death made her as trustworthy as anyone could be.

"What tidings", he asked, and her smile grew, the pale scarifications on her dark skin dancing with the motion. "The Court of the Hollow Idol has pledged its support", she said, "As have the Oracles of the Unbound Gauntlet and House Naramsina. The Thralls of Excess have not responded to any of our messages, but that is how they are."
Skyraal suppressed a growl, forcing his frustration deep into his core, once again brushing over the handle of his sword.

"Have the Sorrowful Martyrs responded yet?", he asked, and Madwen shook her head. "What of the Knights of the Bloodforged Blade? The Brazen Legion? The Coterie of the Blessed Lantern?" He could feel his voice rising, and found his hand had closed around the hilt of his sword, its own rage feeding into his own and trying to spurn him on into a murderous frenzy.

He spat out his breath in a prolonged his, forcing his hand away from his sword. "They will respond in time, my Lord", his Seeres assured him, entirely unperturbed in the face of his outburst.

"They have sworn their loyalty to me. They are bound by vow and obligation. I have held up my side of the bargain. How dare these wretches…"

Madwen chuckled, and the impudence of her gesture hit him like a splash of cold water. The Seeress grinned at him, and he felt his rage evaporate in an instant.

"More than a century of damnation, and still you cannot shake the habits of your ancestors, can you, Lord? They dare because they are feral hounds set loose upon a cornucopia of meat, unheeding of the sting of the whip or the call of their Master. They dare because they know, for all your might, that you can only strike in one direction at once, and that as long as they are not too late in their response they will not be punished too harshly. They dare, my Lord, because they wield the power of the Warp, or ride within mighty Knights, because they have made bargains with powerful daemons or hold the backing of the Court of Lorgar. They dare because, more often than not, they are dealing with issues of their own, because they have found themselves with Empires and little idea of how to rule them."

"Are you done?", he asked, when she paused for breath.

"Varagast Urkrak has sent words", she told him. "One of the Lights of Charov winked out of existence, so they had to drop out of the Warp and reorient themselves. They will be here within the next few days."

He stared at her in utter disbelief, and she stared back, the light of the warp that shone from his two eyes reflected in her singular one.

"You're imagining killing me again, aren't you, my Lord."

He tried, without success, to suppress his smile. He had, in fact, been doing just that. "One day, Madwen, your disrespect will lead to your demise."

She looked at him for a moment, her smile ceasing entirely.

"Perhaps it will, my lord", she told him, and then her grin returned, ceramite-white teeth on full display. "And when it does, you will avenge me."

Despite himself, he found all annoyance evaporating. Disrespectful and impudent as Gult was, there was a reason he preferred her to the rest of his advisors.

"I will not die before the Crows."

He had looked away for a moment, and for a moment he did not realize it was Madwen that had spoken. It was a sentence utterly unlike her, spoken with the cadence and inflection of prophecy. She did not, as a rule, go in for such dramatics. He turned to her, and her smile had returned, as though what she had said was simply another of her quips.

"What was that", he asked, and she frowned, her forehead creasing strangely around the nubs of horn that pierced it.

"What was what, my Lord?", Madwen Gult asked.

"I didn't say anything."