A rescue operation.
New
- Location
- Netherlands
Your head hurts so damn much.
The world blurs around you, the edges of your vision distorted and fuzzy as the throbbing in your head intensifies. When you don't focus intently, you begin to feel the world spinning, as colours you've never seen before attempt to appear in your vision. Is this what the priests said was the corruption of the soul?
You push yourself to breathe slowly, feeling for that weird power with senses you did not even know you had. It feels natural to do so. But should it? You need to do what you've been told.
Go to the priests, give yourself up, and you won't be treated like a rogue witch. They won't kill you, surely?
The abandoned factory distract shakes as you stumble through it. Metal sheets tremble in place. The ground cracks, walls tear, and bricks begin tumbling down. The pain in your head continued to throb. It wants out. It wants to be released. To get out.
You. Can't. Let. It. Out.
Can you control your power?
Rolled 47
The spikes of agony continue to pulse through your mind, each one more intense than the last. By the time you reach the outskirts of the factory district, you're stumbling forward. In the distance there is the Hab section. Where everyone lives. And at the center, the shrine.
You clutch your head, trying to block out the pain as you remain focused upon the thought of the priests. Surely they can help you. If anyone can, it has to be them.
That's what they told you as a child. Witches need to go to the Ecclesiarchy.
Just a few more steps. The door is getting closer. A faint smile appears. You are doing well.
The abandoned manufactorum is a scene of destruction and chaos.
The distraction makes you lose control for a moment. Across the abandoned Manufactorum, metal twists and bends, glass windows explode, and rockcrete crumbles away to fine powder.
You remind yourself. A breath to center yourself. A moment of calm.
As you try to catch your breath and calm your pounding heart, a voice calls out from behind you.
"Are you alright?"
You turn and see an old man standing a few feet away. The man is wearing fine black robes woven through with silver threads. Odd symbols that make your sight focus as they gaze upon them cover the long staff he is holding. There are augs in his head. Cables running from the side of his skull to the upper back. The man looks posh and powerful.
You try to get the words out, but nothing comes out. The pain is all-consuming.
"What's wrong?" he asks, stepping closer. You see the necklace he wears, the Imperial Adept's symbol of his office. It is an I with an eye on it. You don't know what he's from, but if he is an Adept, he has to know things. Has the Emperor sent him to help you?
You hesitate, unsure whether or not to trust him. But the pain in your head continues to flare up and you know that every second counts. Imperial Adepts don't usually help street trash.
[] Good kids obey!:
You have been taught to obey the Adepts and immediately move to obey the adult like a good imperial citizen.
[] "I...I need help":
Swallow your stupid boyish pride and ask for help from an up-hiver.
[] "It hurts."
You don't respond, instead saying something to measure the man's empathy.
The man seems to appreciate the answer. He nods. "Imagine a wall." The voice says. "A wall in your mind. Imagine it. Build on it. Brick by brick. Grow it as best you can.
You try what the man said, building a wall, and as you do, you feel the pressure lessening slightly.
You hear the sound every child in the Hive learns to fear. The charging of an enforcer's prod, followed by the scent of ozone. "Oy! What's the meaning of this?!"
A squad of Enforcers are coming out of the hab district, advancing around a big armoured vehicle with a mean-looking turret atop. The leader of them, face plate up, is glaring at you like you're a turd on a freshly cleaned floor. They are all in heavy gear, real primo stuff. Thick black suits with yellow stripes. Ten of them. They're carrying shields and stun prods, with holstered guns.
"Naff's a brat like you doing here?" He taps his prod in his upturned palm. "Go on, git!" He aims it towards the District he came from. "Don't got time to teach you not to be he-" The enforcer's smile fades as he looks in your eyes and sees the power emerging there. He raises his prod and swings it at your head in a flash.
"Witch!" he yells, almost incoherent.
You damn grox-loving… You land hard. The adept who helped you before is gone now. The wall is crumbling.
Suddenly:
(Choose one)
[]You -feel- their hate and fear:
Your latent telepathy is attuned to feeling emotions. If developed, you will be able to sense the emotions of people in a radius around you, particularly if they have ill intent.
[] You -see- what they're planning:
Your latent telepathy is attuned to reading plans. If developed, you will be able to unobtrusively and covertly read surface-level thoughts from a single person at a time.
[] You -hear- their surface thoughts:
Your latent telepathy is attuned to hearing surface thoughts. If developed, you will passively hear the surface thoughts of those around you. All of them.
[] You -taste- their instincts:
Your latent telepathy is attuned to instincts. If developed, you will taste what training and/or instinct is going to make someone do, on your tongue, before they do it.
[] You -smell- their wants:
Your latent telepathy is attuned to desires. If developed, you will smell what people want upon their body odour.
Controlling yourself under pressure.
Rolled 17
"Leave me alone!"
You scream! The spark of power in your soul answers your anger. A wave of force shoots out with your voice. Raw unfocused power flowing freely, manifesting in different ways. The leading Enforcer is squeezed out of his armour's open visor like the contents of a nutrient paste tube, two more are sent flying into a wall so hard they explode into bloody chunks.
The Taurox crumbles and rips into two parts, each spinning around at high speed and crushing more of them. Men are torn to pieces by raw psychic fury,
The ground around you breaks and tears, throwing up rockcrete dust and sending out rebar like thrown spears. The abandoned Manufactorum crumbles and collapses. Glass shatters or even explodes up to a kilometer away from you.
You taste blood. Everything goes dark.
Aldin could feel the power radiating from the child. He cursed the idiotic Blunts for attacking him. He'd only just gotten the Psyker to begin constructing mental defenses. And now they'd been torn apart.
He counted every second as the Valkyrie approached. For fifteen minutes he had been watching the asset, noting in growing horror the bells of the distant temple ringing. He thanked the Emperor that the Psyker had only harmed planetary Enforcers. If they had been Imperial Adepts, then the child would have committed an actual crime in the eyes of the Lex Imperialis.
He could salvage this. But he'd need to be careful. He looked at the other men aboard his dropship.
The Black Sentinels were the dread of the acolytes of the Astra Telepathica, each allowed to execute a Psyker on sight, and ready to do so on a moment's notice. But they were also well trained, fanatically loyal, and not overtaken by hatred. Most of the time they just beat up an offending acolyte, and only brought out their soul-obliterating lances if it was truly necessary.
They were both the executioners of Psykers, but also their protectors against unsanctioned violence. Aldin knew they were just as ready to gun him down and burn his body, as they were to die in his defense.
The Sentinels aboard the Valkyrie checked their weapons. They were kitted out for an extraction. That meant hellguns for scything down mobs of fanatics, and shotguns slung on their lower backs loaded with blessed silver for taking out the one they had set out to protect if necessary.
"I saw him." Aldin said into the vox on the collar of his robes. "A small child. Afraid. Definitely a Beta level. The emotional outbursts and awakening are pushing him to near-Alpha."
The Captain of the Sentinels paused to look at the stasis casket strapped to the floor of the dropship. The man's mind turning as he considered the situation. Aldin knew he had to be considering the tactical situation on his helmet's internal display. "There is a mob emerging from the district. Looks like a lynch mob." He undid his restraints and got to his feet.
Aldin considered the sight. A squad of enforcers slain by a psyker, glass exploding, shaking buildings, destruction. Buildings had collapsed, and the hive floor had been cracked. The only reason nobody had approached the child yet was their fear of not doing so as part of a large mob.
He extended his thoughts to the young Psyker and felt for corruption. He was clean. Angry. Confused. His mind flowing with the after-effects of the power that had coursed through him. But his anger at the Enforcers had seen him exhaust himself.
And what a mind. It was strong, undamaged, positively vibrant. Pristine, even. Aldin could feel himself growing excited and he needed to call on his conditioning to keep his thoughts focused.
The Gamma that had died the day before had still had faults and fractures in his psyche. Nearly all Psykers did. It was the task of the Telepathica to shore these up. Finds like these were rare. He'd only ever found Deltas and an occasional Gamma with this level of stability. He -needed- to get this child into custody. The Telepathica would reward him well for such a recovery. "Do not let them harm the asset." Aldin commanded.
The captain listened to the vox. "Nowhere to land. The landscape is torn up." He motioned for the child. "We can't pull him up. Not if he has brain damage. We'll need the casket."
Another Sentinel, raised a gauntlet. "There are two Sororitas heading this way from the Temple."
"The shrine guards!?" Aldin asked, incredulous. "Who ordered them-"
The Captain turned his helmet to look at him with an incredulous tilt, for the implication that someone needed to order Sororitas to kill a Witch.
"...Good point." Aldin extended his consciousness and saw that there were indeed power-armored figured. "The Emperor sees fit to test us this day." Aldin said. He tried to think of what to do. They needed to land and get the asset onboard.
He then realized there was a place to land.
(Choose one)
[] Land as close as possible:
The Black Sentinels will repel from lines and form a perimeter, driving the crowd away enough in the confusion to secure Occam. But they will not be able to extract immediately. They'll hit the crowd with tear gas, and only fire intermittent volleys to keep them at bay
There will be a standoff with the Sororitas.
[] Land on the crowd:
The Valkyrie will strafe the road filled with hundreds of people just doing what they're told. Then they'll storm down the ramp, rolling the grav casket with them to Occam, put him inside, then leave, before any other Imperial institution can arrive and demand the young Psyker's death.
Enough people for it to be a noteworthy event in a Hive city will die.
Depending on how 'humanitarian' these Sororitas are. They might take offense at this.
He could stop the crowd. He knew numerous psychic incantations to do this. But it would be very noticeable… and it could incense the crowd. And the Sororitas might shoot him on principle for it.
(Choose one)
[] Aldin Uses his Psychic powers to stop the crowd:
Using his psychic powers will slow the crowd down enough to allow for 'Land as close as possible' to get Occam into a casket and aboard the Valkyrie before the mob can get to him. The two Sororitas -will- shoot at Psyker trying to slow their charge against a Witch. The Valkyrie can handle their bolter fire, however.
[] Aldin stuck to his hellpistol:
Aldin joins the rescue, using his hellpistol to aid the Black Sentinels.
No risks are taken in regards to using Psychic power.
There is also an option that could be taken, regardless.
(Decide wether or not to add this to your plan)
[] "The asset is worth more than that entire mob. Open fire.":
Order the Valkyrie to fire at the crowd and keep firing until they've gotten the point.
Will guarantee a safe extraction for Occam and a political shitstorm for Aldin.
Plan voting. 10 hour Moratorium.
The world blurs around you, the edges of your vision distorted and fuzzy as the throbbing in your head intensifies. When you don't focus intently, you begin to feel the world spinning, as colours you've never seen before attempt to appear in your vision. Is this what the priests said was the corruption of the soul?
You push yourself to breathe slowly, feeling for that weird power with senses you did not even know you had. It feels natural to do so. But should it? You need to do what you've been told.
Go to the priests, give yourself up, and you won't be treated like a rogue witch. They won't kill you, surely?
The abandoned factory distract shakes as you stumble through it. Metal sheets tremble in place. The ground cracks, walls tear, and bricks begin tumbling down. The pain in your head continued to throb. It wants out. It wants to be released. To get out.
You. Can't. Let. It. Out.
Can you control your power?
Rolled 47
The spikes of agony continue to pulse through your mind, each one more intense than the last. By the time you reach the outskirts of the factory district, you're stumbling forward. In the distance there is the Hab section. Where everyone lives. And at the center, the shrine.
You clutch your head, trying to block out the pain as you remain focused upon the thought of the priests. Surely they can help you. If anyone can, it has to be them.
That's what they told you as a child. Witches need to go to the Ecclesiarchy.
Just a few more steps. The door is getting closer. A faint smile appears. You are doing well.
The abandoned manufactorum is a scene of destruction and chaos.
The distraction makes you lose control for a moment. Across the abandoned Manufactorum, metal twists and bends, glass windows explode, and rockcrete crumbles away to fine powder.
You remind yourself. A breath to center yourself. A moment of calm.
As you try to catch your breath and calm your pounding heart, a voice calls out from behind you.
"Are you alright?"
You turn and see an old man standing a few feet away. The man is wearing fine black robes woven through with silver threads. Odd symbols that make your sight focus as they gaze upon them cover the long staff he is holding. There are augs in his head. Cables running from the side of his skull to the upper back. The man looks posh and powerful.
You try to get the words out, but nothing comes out. The pain is all-consuming.
"What's wrong?" he asks, stepping closer. You see the necklace he wears, the Imperial Adept's symbol of his office. It is an I with an eye on it. You don't know what he's from, but if he is an Adept, he has to know things. Has the Emperor sent him to help you?
You hesitate, unsure whether or not to trust him. But the pain in your head continues to flare up and you know that every second counts. Imperial Adepts don't usually help street trash.
[] Good kids obey!:
You have been taught to obey the Adepts and immediately move to obey the adult like a good imperial citizen.
[] "I...I need help":
Swallow your stupid boyish pride and ask for help from an up-hiver.
[] "It hurts."
You don't respond, instead saying something to measure the man's empathy.
The man seems to appreciate the answer. He nods. "Imagine a wall." The voice says. "A wall in your mind. Imagine it. Build on it. Brick by brick. Grow it as best you can.
You try what the man said, building a wall, and as you do, you feel the pressure lessening slightly.
You hear the sound every child in the Hive learns to fear. The charging of an enforcer's prod, followed by the scent of ozone. "Oy! What's the meaning of this?!"
A squad of Enforcers are coming out of the hab district, advancing around a big armoured vehicle with a mean-looking turret atop. The leader of them, face plate up, is glaring at you like you're a turd on a freshly cleaned floor. They are all in heavy gear, real primo stuff. Thick black suits with yellow stripes. Ten of them. They're carrying shields and stun prods, with holstered guns.
"Naff's a brat like you doing here?" He taps his prod in his upturned palm. "Go on, git!" He aims it towards the District he came from. "Don't got time to teach you not to be he-" The enforcer's smile fades as he looks in your eyes and sees the power emerging there. He raises his prod and swings it at your head in a flash.
"Witch!" he yells, almost incoherent.
You damn grox-loving… You land hard. The adept who helped you before is gone now. The wall is crumbling.
Suddenly:
(Choose one)
[]You -feel- their hate and fear:
Your latent telepathy is attuned to feeling emotions. If developed, you will be able to sense the emotions of people in a radius around you, particularly if they have ill intent.
[] You -see- what they're planning:
Your latent telepathy is attuned to reading plans. If developed, you will be able to unobtrusively and covertly read surface-level thoughts from a single person at a time.
[] You -hear- their surface thoughts:
Your latent telepathy is attuned to hearing surface thoughts. If developed, you will passively hear the surface thoughts of those around you. All of them.
[] You -taste- their instincts:
Your latent telepathy is attuned to instincts. If developed, you will taste what training and/or instinct is going to make someone do, on your tongue, before they do it.
[] You -smell- their wants:
Your latent telepathy is attuned to desires. If developed, you will smell what people want upon their body odour.
Controlling yourself under pressure.
Rolled 17
"Leave me alone!"
You scream! The spark of power in your soul answers your anger. A wave of force shoots out with your voice. Raw unfocused power flowing freely, manifesting in different ways. The leading Enforcer is squeezed out of his armour's open visor like the contents of a nutrient paste tube, two more are sent flying into a wall so hard they explode into bloody chunks.
The Taurox crumbles and rips into two parts, each spinning around at high speed and crushing more of them. Men are torn to pieces by raw psychic fury,
The ground around you breaks and tears, throwing up rockcrete dust and sending out rebar like thrown spears. The abandoned Manufactorum crumbles and collapses. Glass shatters or even explodes up to a kilometer away from you.
You taste blood. Everything goes dark.
Aldin could feel the power radiating from the child. He cursed the idiotic Blunts for attacking him. He'd only just gotten the Psyker to begin constructing mental defenses. And now they'd been torn apart.
He counted every second as the Valkyrie approached. For fifteen minutes he had been watching the asset, noting in growing horror the bells of the distant temple ringing. He thanked the Emperor that the Psyker had only harmed planetary Enforcers. If they had been Imperial Adepts, then the child would have committed an actual crime in the eyes of the Lex Imperialis.
He could salvage this. But he'd need to be careful. He looked at the other men aboard his dropship.
The Black Sentinels were the dread of the acolytes of the Astra Telepathica, each allowed to execute a Psyker on sight, and ready to do so on a moment's notice. But they were also well trained, fanatically loyal, and not overtaken by hatred. Most of the time they just beat up an offending acolyte, and only brought out their soul-obliterating lances if it was truly necessary.
They were both the executioners of Psykers, but also their protectors against unsanctioned violence. Aldin knew they were just as ready to gun him down and burn his body, as they were to die in his defense.
The Sentinels aboard the Valkyrie checked their weapons. They were kitted out for an extraction. That meant hellguns for scything down mobs of fanatics, and shotguns slung on their lower backs loaded with blessed silver for taking out the one they had set out to protect if necessary.
"I saw him." Aldin said into the vox on the collar of his robes. "A small child. Afraid. Definitely a Beta level. The emotional outbursts and awakening are pushing him to near-Alpha."
The Captain of the Sentinels paused to look at the stasis casket strapped to the floor of the dropship. The man's mind turning as he considered the situation. Aldin knew he had to be considering the tactical situation on his helmet's internal display. "There is a mob emerging from the district. Looks like a lynch mob." He undid his restraints and got to his feet.
Aldin considered the sight. A squad of enforcers slain by a psyker, glass exploding, shaking buildings, destruction. Buildings had collapsed, and the hive floor had been cracked. The only reason nobody had approached the child yet was their fear of not doing so as part of a large mob.
He extended his thoughts to the young Psyker and felt for corruption. He was clean. Angry. Confused. His mind flowing with the after-effects of the power that had coursed through him. But his anger at the Enforcers had seen him exhaust himself.
And what a mind. It was strong, undamaged, positively vibrant. Pristine, even. Aldin could feel himself growing excited and he needed to call on his conditioning to keep his thoughts focused.
The Gamma that had died the day before had still had faults and fractures in his psyche. Nearly all Psykers did. It was the task of the Telepathica to shore these up. Finds like these were rare. He'd only ever found Deltas and an occasional Gamma with this level of stability. He -needed- to get this child into custody. The Telepathica would reward him well for such a recovery. "Do not let them harm the asset." Aldin commanded.
The captain listened to the vox. "Nowhere to land. The landscape is torn up." He motioned for the child. "We can't pull him up. Not if he has brain damage. We'll need the casket."
Another Sentinel, raised a gauntlet. "There are two Sororitas heading this way from the Temple."
"The shrine guards!?" Aldin asked, incredulous. "Who ordered them-"
The Captain turned his helmet to look at him with an incredulous tilt, for the implication that someone needed to order Sororitas to kill a Witch.
"...Good point." Aldin extended his consciousness and saw that there were indeed power-armored figured. "The Emperor sees fit to test us this day." Aldin said. He tried to think of what to do. They needed to land and get the asset onboard.
He then realized there was a place to land.
(Choose one)
[] Land as close as possible:
The Black Sentinels will repel from lines and form a perimeter, driving the crowd away enough in the confusion to secure Occam. But they will not be able to extract immediately. They'll hit the crowd with tear gas, and only fire intermittent volleys to keep them at bay
There will be a standoff with the Sororitas.
[] Land on the crowd:
The Valkyrie will strafe the road filled with hundreds of people just doing what they're told. Then they'll storm down the ramp, rolling the grav casket with them to Occam, put him inside, then leave, before any other Imperial institution can arrive and demand the young Psyker's death.
Enough people for it to be a noteworthy event in a Hive city will die.
Depending on how 'humanitarian' these Sororitas are. They might take offense at this.
He could stop the crowd. He knew numerous psychic incantations to do this. But it would be very noticeable… and it could incense the crowd. And the Sororitas might shoot him on principle for it.
(Choose one)
[] Aldin Uses his Psychic powers to stop the crowd:
Using his psychic powers will slow the crowd down enough to allow for 'Land as close as possible' to get Occam into a casket and aboard the Valkyrie before the mob can get to him. The two Sororitas -will- shoot at Psyker trying to slow their charge against a Witch. The Valkyrie can handle their bolter fire, however.
[] Aldin stuck to his hellpistol:
Aldin joins the rescue, using his hellpistol to aid the Black Sentinels.
No risks are taken in regards to using Psychic power.
There is also an option that could be taken, regardless.
(Decide wether or not to add this to your plan)
[] "The asset is worth more than that entire mob. Open fire.":
Order the Valkyrie to fire at the crowd and keep firing until they've gotten the point.
Will guarantee a safe extraction for Occam and a political shitstorm for Aldin.
Plan voting. 10 hour Moratorium.
Last edited:
