we can just say he is someone the commissar whose coat we are wearing liked and was sad died before him. so to honor the commissar we make sure his friend is remembered
That actually makes it worse doesn't it? I mean best case scenario they assume that Pete is some sort of psyker, which diminishes our legend, worse case they assume Pete is a daemon and that we're an agent of the ruinous powers. These are very religious superstitious people, they'll take what we tell them completely seriously. Not to mention the whole wreathed in flame stunt, and the fact that even the Magos Biologus in training has found that we did something that should have been physically impossible given our physique.
That actually makes it worse doesn't it? I mean best case scenario they assume that Pete is some sort of psyker, which diminishes our legend, worse case they assume Pete is a daemon and that we're an agent of the ruinous powers. These are very religious superstitious people, they'll take what we tell them completely seriously. Not to mention the whole wreathed in flame stunt, and the fact that even the Magos Biologus in training has found that we did something that should have been physically impossible given our physique.
When it comes to eventually revealing Pete (as I think we should eventually do, as repayment for his help and also just so he isn't left in a 'The Unknown Soldier' state), I'm hoping we could reveal him as a Saint of the emperor; a soldier who, despite being a blank, despite being scorned by his fellows, and despite being left to slowly die in the depths of a hulk stayed true/faithful to the imperium/emperor, and this that or the other allowed him to help his fellow soldiers in their time of need.
"Eventually", being in this case a time where we've got either:
The fanatical loyalty of all that we're telling.
Like, a good amount of influence/prestige in the Mechanicus or Ecclesiarchy, where you can theoretically legitimately name saints.
A high enough position that we can brush off the slightly blasphemous idea by re-imagining it as a political demarcation.
Edit: Like, think about it this way:
Step 1, is that we name the place Pete's Rest, but don't mention Pete-as-ghost at all, claim we're naming the place after a friend only.
Step 2, if possibly, bury Pete at Pete's rest, maybe tell one or two guys about Pete's story if we're confident it won't back fire on us; make sure we make Pete's gravestone nice using the info we got from him (Pete, Marksmen of X regiment, missed by Jenna and the kids, Gone but not Forgotten.)
Step 2.5 (reasonable amount of time passes)
Step 3, Open up about the Secret of Pete, maybe interr the flak armour and lasgun of Pete, maybe inquire with the Ecclesiarchy if anything could be done to commemorate him properly, etc.
When it comes to eventually revealing Pete (as I think we should eventually do, as repayment for his help and also just so he isn't left in a 'The Unknown Soldier' state), I'm hoping we could reveal him as a Saint of the emperor; a soldier who, despite being a blank, despite being scorned by his fellows, and despite being left to slowly die in the depths of a hulk stayed true/faithful to the imperium/emperor, and this that or the other allowed him to help his fellow soldiers in their time of need.
"Eventually", being in this case a time where we've got either:
The fanatical loyalty of all that we're telling.
Like, a good amount of influence/prestige in the Mechanicus or Ecclesiarchy, where you can theoretically legitimately name saints.
A high enough position that we can brush off the slightly blasphemous idea by re-imagining it as a political demarcation.
but they do not know about pete being a ghost or anything like that?
literally asking us about the name of the place and we saying we are doing the past commissar a favor and making sure his friend was remembered. from information in the datapad.
why do you keep talking about the possession and blessing?
That's why I used the paired either-or words of "true to the imperium", or, "Faithful to The Emperor", so that it makes sense in both a post and pre Imperial Truth style of sainthood.
(Like, he's not really an imperial saint, unless you broaden the definitions hugely, he's a benign ghost that we're doing some extreme spinning on.)
but they do not know about pete being a ghost or anything like that?
literally asking us about the name of the place and we saying we are doing the past commissar a favor and making sure his friend was remembered. from information in the datapad.
why do you keep talking about the possession and blessing?
It Is about possession and blessing, the Whole Point of the guys question is that we pulled off clearly supernatural feats when we fought the ork warboss; he thinks we're an angel, we were actually being possessed by a benign ghost of an guardsman.
We don't want to tell him the truth because being possessed by invisible friends is exactly the way a chaos cultist infiltrator might shade the truth to make it seem less like he's a heretic.
Edit: that is, calling the place Pete's Rest is perfectly benign, we can pass Pete off as someone we knew before easily enough; the thing that's dangerous is saying that our supernatural actions were caused by Pete (which would suddenly make "Pete's Rest" not benign at all as a name) because suddenly then we're communing with the dead again.
(Apologies for the double post, but more amending would destroy any shreds of clarity in the last ramble-post)
What I'm torturously trying to get across is there are a few pitfalls here where revealing the wrong information here could mess us up ruinously:
Calling the place "Pete's Rest" is fine, we could give any reason for the name, or no reason.
Calling it that and revealing that Pete was a dead soldier we'd like to memorialize is mostly fine, it'd bring up sorta uncomfortable implications on how we know all that, but we could probably explain it away as finding clues in the rubble, messages and such.
Doing that and also claiming that we were channeling Pete's ghost to fight off the warboss is extremely not fine, every person we tell that story has a really quite good chance at running straight to the Ecclesiarchy to talk about how they just found a rogue psyker/chaos cultist/foul xeno in the form of man.
Similarly with the Commissar, we can safely tell certain people about certain things; we found the body, and used the clothes in a survival situation because we were desperate, only like a third of commissars would kill us for that lesser sin.
On the other hand, we should never, ever imply, state or allude to the fact that we went through his datapad, cracked his password or read the Inquisition files on there, because we don't need an extra hole in the head right now.
'Gods and Emperor damn this fucking trail, did no one think about the physically unfit when they were making this winding mess?'
Is the resounding thought dominating your mind as you walk back into town yet again, your back aching from the weight of the pack even after you had removed most of it's contents. Food and water you had no particular desire to sell was left back at the house along with Arcadius' datapad since you had no particular desire to have that can of worms opened. Still between the charge packs, magnoculars, multi-compass, and the medi-kit it feels like someone loaded the thing with bricks.
"Tempted to join the Mechanicus at this rate just to build a bloody car."
Muttering to yourself, you round the last bend and make your way into Nortrain for a bit of shopping.
- - -
Your first stop is of course Harry's, the old man sitting behind the counter and lazily smoking his pipe as a few people wander aimlessly about the unorganized shelves. It takes him a moment to notice you, but the man waves you over with and grin and a low shout,
"You came to visit again! Come on over, not looking to hire this time around as well I hope?"
Both of you laugh at that, the mad rush that the previous day had brought on being more than enough for your borderline anti-social self. Shaking your head, you take a seat on the empty stool and heft your backpack up onto the counter with a bit of effort,
"Absolutely not, let's not get me mobbed again today. Actually here to take a look at your goods and check out the shops around Nortrain, maybe have some of the salvage I have valued if you don't mind."
Harry nods as he pulls his feet down from the counter, an excited gleam in his eyes as he opens your pack and starts arranging the contents onto the surface.
"Oh, noticed the lasgun you had, but wasn't expecting this many power cells for it. They're quite rare, usually considered a Regional strategic resource given the effectiveness of las weapons and the essentially infinite amount of ammo if you can charge them. Back in the day we used stub weapons in initial Claiming, Kalashnikov Pattern or some such."
Harry holds one of the charge packs up to the light before giving it a rather critical once over.
"Seem to be in pretty decent shape, even got a decent charge. I'd say you're looking at thirty Throne for each of them, nothing major really but the money for this kind of thing is with the weapons themselves. Your lasgun would probably run about two thousand Thrones on it's own, Govenor's been trying to rebuild the Vanguard you see?"
For a moment you almost nod on instinct, attempting to cover up how severely lacking your knowledge of the Triarchy is, but Harry's earnest expression makes you stop. Sighing, you reply,
"Not at all, got no clue what the Vanguard is besides what the name implies. You've mentioned them a few times, were you a part of it?"
A few moments pass as the old shopkeep taps the ashes from his pipe, normally steady hands shaking much like your own typically do though you very much doubt the man is injured.
"Right I was, Augustus, and a good part of it I say. Used to be that the Vanguard was the elite battalion of the 5th, the best armed, armored, and trained of an entire regiment put together to act as the spearhead of the Claim. Back then the Northern Line Region had been out of human control for something like three hundred years, but that didn't matter to any of us.
We had a mission and we had Governor Anderson, four hundred arrogant youths led by a brilliant man that had dreams of a better future for the Line...."
Harry trails off into silence, his hand bringing the pipe to his lips and is quickly followed by a small cloud of strangely silver smoke. By the time the smoke disappears you find the man cheerily grinning as he holds up your pair of magnoculars,
"Enough of that, you didn't tell me you had some Nocs! Even back in the core these things will give you a run around trying to afford them-"
Both of you spend a while chatting about the items you could sell and pouring over the store's inventory before Harry brings you to look around the other shops of interest in Nortrain.
Equipment Valuation
Lasgun (~2000 Thrones) Charge Packs(30 Thrones) Magnoculars (975 Thrones) Multi-compass (Priceless, Harry recommends bringing it to the Mechanicus Temple) Micro-bead (300 Thrones) Imperial Guard Medi-kit (Priceless, Harry recommends bringing it to the Mechanicus Temple)
Rough List of Goods and Prices
Sword (125 Thrones) Spear (100 Thrones) Bow (200 Thrones) Crossbow (350 Thrones) Unit of Wood (150 Thrones) Unit of Stone (80 Thrones) Unit of Food (120 Thrones) Farming Tools (90 Thrones per person) Logging Equipment (150 Thrones per person) Mining Equipment (120 Thrones per person) Clothing (80 Thrones per set) 3 Months of Water (25 Thrones) Kalashnikov Pattern Stubgun (1250 Thrones) Thirty Kalashnikov Pattern Rounds (100 Thrones)
[] Write-in purchases and sales.
QM Note:
A rough outline of an array of goods, by and large Nortrain is a city forced to rely on a mix of modern and medieval technology due a variety of factors which means a lot of what they have to offer is heavily dated tech wise both for the PC's original world and most certainly for the 40K universe. Feel free to ask for prices for anything I might have missed, or that comes to mind though keep in mind that anything more advanced than a stubgun is practically impossible to get here.
Typically speaking, your actions in the future that involve purchasing will now list the cost of doing (say getting farming equipment for workers, arming future soldiers, etc.). A lot of this is to offer the chance for selling some equipment, planning for potential salvaging gear from back at the cavern in the future, giving you a chance to get new PC equipment, and removing the need to learn the prices for future actions. Next up is Tales of a Saint, might be a bit on it since it's looking to be a bit larger.
Personally, I'm thinking we sell all the charge packs we can bear to (all but one or two?) and maybe the magnoculars; we could probably get away with using the peasant's longbow, but I really want to keep the lasgun and flak armour together.
Luckily we've got water sorted with the stream, but I don't know how much food we're going to need until we're sustainable (we do still have a bunch of corpse starch, I think).
We should definitely get at least one set of clothing, going around stealing commissar valour is something of a dangerous game; we can probably get away with one of each equipment type, although I don't know how well two labourers can work a plot of land with one set of tools between them.
I wish we had some armansec left, that stuff probably would've sold like gangbusters.
Edit: Medium term strategy, I'm thinking that we should be mostly focused on our holding, and bumming around town talking to people.
Like, while we're recuperating we can build up our things and prepare, so that when we're (relatively) healthy again we can hopefully go on an expedition to pick up the rest of our (incredibly valuable) rusty crap from the 'ol cave.
I'm a little worried about the arm, actually; I'm betting both lasgun and peasants bow use will be harshly restricted by only having one usable arm.
This is a completely insane contingency plan, but if we're super desperate, I'm thinking we might be able to do some nonesense stuff by riling up an ork raid, leading it into our holding, and then using the Newb's protection scroll to make them all unable to take harmful actions, at which point we hobble around pathetically shooting orks at point-blank range to farm War tokens.
That's very odd. From the lore I know, Lasguns themselves are actually really cheap, but the Power Packs are harder to make, being some form of Dark Age machinery and therefore not fully understood. It's why there are dozens if not hundreds of patterns of Lasgun but only a handful of Power Pack types.
That's very odd. From the lore I know, Lasguns themselves are actually really cheap, but the Power Packs are harder to make, being some form of Dark Age machinery and therefore not fully understood. It's why there are dozens if not hundreds of patterns of Lasgun but only a handful of Power Pack types.
I get the impression it might be a case where the production is low for a both items, but it just so happens that the governor has more packs than guns stockpiled, and the wish to rebuild the vanguard is inflating lasgun prices.
Yeah, the cache we left back in the cave is probably worth a couple tens of thousands of thrones, the problem is how messed up we currently are, there's also the fact that we don't know the way from Nortrain to wherever we were before in the hulk, and the route's likely to have a lot of orcs in it.
We might be able to beg a squad of guards off the governor to escort us back to the general are and lug back the loot, once we've recovered from our non-arm injury; but then again, it'd be a pretty dangerous mission and we'd be useless without a one-handed weapon, to the point where we'd probably have to promise a good percentage of the haul to the governor in exchange.
The alternative is to organize some soldiers by ourselves, and get directions from Charlie independently of the governor, but that runs into the problem where we'd need to arm, armour and train the guys by ourselves, probably need to lean hard on domain point traits.
(I'm hoping that as we expand our domain we'll get the ability to produce arms and armour there, if we can get bow production up to a reasonable amount then we might be able to make a profit off of them)
Revised to a more specific sell quantity, 4x charge packs should be sufficient.
Do we need to buy basic farm tools or do they come with the farm? If we need to buy farm tools then we're going to need to sell one of the more valuable items, probably the Micro-bead(not like anyone else has a receiver), regardless of who we hire. If farm tools just boost the roll but we can make do without we can buy them later.
The farm has enough tools for four farmers to work the fields, and they are required for any workers to actually farm. Same with logging and mining equipment on the later point.
Revised to a more specific sell quantity, 4x charge packs should be sufficient.
Do we need to buy basic farm tools or do they come with the farm? If we need to buy farm tools then we're going to need to sell one of the more valuable items, probably the Micro-bead(not like anyone else has a receiver), regardless of who we hire. If farm tools just boost the roll but we can make do without we can buy them later.
I'd really like it if we got a set of clothes, if for no other reason than the likelihood of the Commissar's coat getting filthy with nothing to swap it with.
The farm has enough tools for four farmers to work the fields, and they are required for any workers to actually farm. Same with logging and mining equipment on the later point.
You awaken one day from a nap, one meant to recuperate from the wear on your injuries not as a method to slack off while the farm gets set up, to a sound on the edge of your hearing. Heading outside you find the mass of light far above your head has significantly dimmed, the complex weave of machinery, the gantries that service it, and the dozens of massive supports holding it in place at last visible. Even odder is the obvious flames burning on the distant turrets of the Governor's Keep and the fact that you can now recognize the sound to be some kind of singing.
"What the hell are they doing?"
A muttered question incites you to pick up your cane and begin your slow hobble into Nortrain proper...
- - -
You arrive in Nortrain with a gasped breath and a constant shooting pain in your knees that seems to have become the norm for you these days, your tired figure leaning heavily on the solidly built cane as you listen. It's clearer now, the words of the song being sung falling upon your ears,
"... alone in the dark,
grasping for the light,
seeking for redemption.
Carry them aloft,
Oh, emperor above,
Carry them home.
Fire, fire all around!
Darkness abounds!
They screamed,
they cried,
they defied.
Oh, emperor above,
Carry them home.
Light walks here,
Light burns here,
Let it guide them home."
Again and again the song repeats as you follow it to the source, the sadness in their words seeming to carry in the very air around you as you stroll through one street after another. Every building has at least a strip of black cloth hanging from a window and they only grow more numerous as you come ever closer until the roads begin to widen and a squat temple crowned by an aquila comes into view. Surrounding it is a vast plaza that is currently filled to the brim with people and bonfires, all of them bearing something black upon their forms as they sing what you realize to be a funeral song.
It is only when you notice the roar of an engine almost drowned by the constant song that you start to get a seeking feeling in your heart, hurried steps guiding you forward and those you stumble into moving aside without a word. Only moments pass before you have pressed your way through the crowd and you immediately wish you hadn't, a sentence ringing in your mind,
Harry standing beside you with a smile. His words, seemingly idle chat as they reach your ears,
" Impressive, right? Good ol' thing, we call her the Heart of Nortrain seeing as she carries the stuff needed to keep the North Sun shining up there. "
At the foot of the temple stairs the Heart of Nortrain idles away as a procession of people carry the bodies of the dead into it's hold, workers mingling with Imperial Cult priests and Techpriests alike. You stare in a mixture of horror and denial as dozens more are loaded onboard, the singing all around never stopping as the bodies of possibly former friends, family, or lovers are loaded onto the truck to...
"Come now, child, this is not a place for such things. It is the Time of Mourning."
A weary voice works its way over to you, barely a whisper, as a hand covered in a pure white glove lands lightly on your shoulder to guide you away from the singing crowd. You let them, mind trying to piece it together as a young Imperial Priest guides you back through the crowd and away from it all, a frown on his face as he tries fruitlessly to put the hair on his head in order with a free hand.
On the street you entered from a row of stone benches rest on either side of the road, each of them with a remarkably well carved aquila on it in that perpetual state of merely having one eye opened. It is to one of those benches that the priest guides you, your figure sinking onto it with great effort.
"It is a shocking realization for all those who come of age, no dead are interred in the Triarchy and there is no more than a small plaque dedicated to those who pass in the Gardens of Remembrance. A necessity, but an ugly one.
Here there are no Cemetery Worlds, or graveyards, or mausoleums. Merely the furnaces of the Factorum and the Time of Mourning."
Sighing, the priest sits beside you and leans back against the wall to look up at the dimmed light of the North Sun, his voice tired and scratchy as it rasps out. You take a good look at the priest even as your mind spins to resolve it all, even distant as your emotions are the reality of people watching those close to them be carted off to burn and it rages against the concern the priest's words bring...
A shake of the head, a tentative mental grasp, and then the warring emotions are crushed. A part of you ponders on the inhuman nature of how easily your emotions can be simply dismissed, but the other looks on the weary young priest with interest.
Sense Roll: 90 + 3 = 93
'His skin is too tight, like it's been drawn back around the bone and his complexion... why is he so white? No wrinkles and yet his hair is patchy. Everything about him just seems off.'
Staring at the priest in silence for a long moment you are met with no words, the two of you simply sitting on the bench as you listen to the song carry on in the nearby plaza. It is the priest that breaks first, another weary sigh followed by an even more tired question,
"It is to the Emperor that the people of the Triarchy place their faith, but it is to those of us that walk beside them that they look to for hope. The Three Founders, and Arcadius the Mad. Three legendary figures that saved the ancestors of our people from death on a ship lost to the void, and a Saint who cut the ship out of the Warp itself in a battle against a Daemon that would have slaughtered them to the last.
You know they say Arcadius fought the Great Daemon for three days with a sword that burned like the sun? A mortal man clad in golden light that made the madness of the other side rend itself apart at the mere sight, a mere human that they say laughed as he fought against a being that stood three Decks tall, and yet it was that man that the Emperor chose to bless. It was through him that we live now, though you will hear many whisper about the doom that choice inflicted.
It's interred in the Great Chapel of the Core alongside the bones of the Saint himself now, a symbol for those who live in these times and struggle to survive in the little bubbles we've carved out. Almost three centuries have passed since any among them walked among us, and so we take solace in what light we find. We cannot speak of His plans for they are beyond comprehension, Augustus, but we are all surely a part of them.
Me, you, those living observing the Time of Mourning, and even those who now pass on to flames of the Factorum. All we must do is believe and His light shall shine upon the world once more."
It is as the priest reaches up to here that the singing begins to die off, the strangely youthful man looking away from you to the crowd as he sighs,
"Apologies child, I must join the ceremony to send them off. May the God Emperor bless you."
You nod and repeat the phrase back to the priest, your focus on those figures among the crowd who weep and hug those next to them.
You're pretty much running off purely enhanced senses rather than any actual training at the moment when it comes to your sense rolls right now. You'll be able to gain traits (which include skills) that add their own bonuses to Sense rolls as well.
I mean, we got that bonus from a bottom of the barrel upgrade available to only the filthiest of landless peasants for the grand price of like, three pulped Gretchen.
On to happier topics, like genestealer cults.
"Some cultists are truly monstrous, skulking along dank tunnels with robes or hessian sacks covering their hybrid xenos anatomies. Others are merely pallid and bald, able to pass for loyal Imperial citizens whilst their wyrm-form tattoos remain hidden." - the first page that showed up on searching "how to spot genestealer cults"
I'm thinking we might have a problem in the ministorum.
Edit: Somewhat snide comments aside, the fussing with the hair (wig?),the skin, the gloves, the anomalous mental effect he had on us, even how neatly he separated us from the crowd; it all paints a picture with only one or two solutions.
I'm not super read up on how exactly genestealer cults operate, but I can't help but imagine those bodies are going straight to the... patriarch(?) to be converted into gribblies.
