Drawing a Blank [40K]
- Thread starter Horologer
- Start date
- Mature
Darik29
Verified Delicious
Huzzah! Our Blank now has a Lasrifle!
And wow, she is a bit of a mess huh? We need to get to work dealing with her major issues.
Also, as a Pariah, plus all her impants, is our girl a rather incredibly strong Blank? I was under the impression Pariah's were the name of the Necron converted anti Warp unit.
And wow, she is a bit of a mess huh? We need to get to work dealing with her major issues.
Also, as a Pariah, plus all her impants, is our girl a rather incredibly strong Blank? I was under the impression Pariah's were the name of the Necron converted anti Warp unit.
Horologer
Incertae sedis
- Location
- a risen sea
I probably should be disambiguate a bit. (I love the word "disambiguate".)
A Blank is somebody without a presence in the Warp. Basically everyone in-universe considers this Warp presence to be what constitutes someone's soul, so most consider Blanks to be soulless. Some people are made into Blanks by Warp Shenanigans or other weird events, but most of them are born Blanks because they have one or more mutations that are collectively known as the Pariah Gene. That's where the name of the Necron unit comes from, by the way: they're human Pariahs that have been assimilated into the Necron forces to make use of their anti-Warp properties, so they're Necron Pariahs.
Some Blanks are strong enough that in addition to their passive Warp resistance, they emit a sort of zone Blank-ness around them, which messes with people's souls a little bit and tends to make them uncomfortable. These people are generally dubbed "Nulls" or "blacksouls". Canon lore is particularly unhelpful in this regard because people tend to use the words "Blank", "Null", "Pariah", "untouchable", and "blacksoul" interchangeably.
For the purposes of this Quest, you are a Blank, because you have the Pariah Gene. You are a powerful enough Blank to qualify as a Null.
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BungieONI
Seven gremlins in a trench coat
- Location
- Lickwidget
- Pronouns
- She/Her
A question I have @Horologer about the consequences of Shy; if Ariadne tried to strike up a conversation with a stranger would she suffer a -60 to the test, 40 from -4 Charisma and -20 from Shy's special modifier?
- Location
- Norway
There is also the -20 from being a blank. We are pretty much doomed on the social front for now as far as I can see.
Horologer
Incertae sedis
- Location
- a risen sea
Yes, in addition to the -20 @henkalv noted, for a total of -80. Right now, Ariadne is basically not going to talk to strangers unless she has to, and when she does have to it's probably not going to be a great time for anyone involved.
While the penalties are pretty brutal (by design) there are ways around them. The obvious one, of course, that if you're not talking to a stranger, you don't take the Shy penalty, but there are other circumstances that can make success more likely. Still, even with those, there's probably going to be a lot of awkward flailing in the near future. Again, by design.
BungieONI
Seven gremlins in a trench coat
- Location
- Lickwidget
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Wow god. God that's just... Awful for her. I feel really sad now.
The fact that her most effective social dynamic is intimidating people who reach out to her and get beyond being strangers is just... That hits right in the empathy. Looking at her protrayal so far and some of the details like Lonely on the sheet paints a picture of intense social anxiety and external factors she has little control over isolating her. It certainly isn't making her happy, which is another hit in the empathy.
I really want to make her happier now.
Well it will be really difficult but there isn't really anyway to get out of the rut and incentives the mechanics describe without going against the flow and trying to socialize in low stakes scenarios.
I guess one long term goal that *might* make her happier is becoming an Inquisitor and attaining the air of authority they have plus the Rosette.
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1.3 Landfall
Horologer
Incertae sedis
- Location
- a risen sea
"Carpe Diem."
– Horace, Odes
{ }
You awaken with a start as the shuttle's engines activate. You must have dozed off...
Hastily stuffing your book and pen in your pocket, you peer out the window. The hangar is already mostly empty, and the few people left in it are quickly leaving. Lights are blinking above every door, warning everyone that the hangar will soon be depressurizing. As you watch, the last few people exit, sealing the doors behind them.
There's a faint hiss that fades as the pumps evacuate the last of the air. Then, with a deep rumbling sound that makes the shuttle vibrate slightly, the hangar doors slide open, flooding the shuttle with light.
Leaning forward and squinting into the glare, you can barely make out more than white patches with something darker between them. Before you can take a better look, you're shoved back into your seat as the shuttle suddenly accelerates out the hangar. You let out a little yelp of surprise, and it sounds like you're not the only one caught off guard, as Interrogator Karst lets out a slightly strangled-sounding curse.
You close your eyes and grope around in your pocket for your sunglasses. Putting them on, you peer out again. Even behind the dark glasses, it takes a moment for your eyes to adjust, and you can't see much more than the patches of white. You peer at them more closely, noting their strange, irregular textures: here they look almost like bubbles, there they look more like the stroke of a paintbrush.
Clouds, you realize. You're looking at clouds. Now that you can see them a bit more clearly, you can tell they're floating off the ground. Giant chunks of white the size of entire voidships simply levitating in the air, casting immense shadows across the surface of the world.
Some tiny part of you knows that they're just condensed vapor, not truly solid, but that means nothing to you right now. You simply stare, awestruck, at the drifting giants.
The shuttle's engines stop for a moment, and you suddenly realize that you've been so busy gaping at the clouds you haven't thought to look at what lies beneath them. You look again. The darker surface of the planet is less clear, but what you can see…
Words fail you entirely. You see patches of dark blue slide past, now and then glittering with refracted light, which can only be water. Patches of green that might be forests intermingle with patches of grey and brown. Those must be cities, judging by the smoke coming off them. As the shuttle gets closer, you think you can even pick out the largest of the individual buildings.
Then the world tilts away from you as the shuttle pulls up, the beautiful vista replaced with the more familiar expanse of space. Even if you sit up as tall as you can and crane your head, all you can see is the faintly curving horizon, hazy blue. Glancing up, you look for any familiar stars, but you know it's futile. You're hundreds of light-years from home. If any of the stars you know are visible, they're going to be faint and in the wrong place.
A few minutes later, you notice something sticking up over the planet's horizon. You can guess what it is long before it's clearly visible. A hive city. At first, all you can see are the topmost spires: massive spikes of metal jutting halfway to space. Then you can see the upper hive itself, glittering with countless lights. Then the hive city proper, a man-made mountain sloping away from the spires until it becomes lost in the clouds that swirl around the city's base.
As you approach, you can pick out more and more details. Smokestacks loom out of the clouds, some of them larger than entire hab-blocks. Buildings are crammed together like candles on a shrine, so densely packed that it's hard to tell where one ends and the other begins. As the shuttle flies over the edges of the hive, you can make out the haphazard web of wires, pipes, and vents that seems to coat the city like a second skin.
Then the shuttle reaches the upper spires, the tallest of which are so monumental that the shuttle flies between them instead of above them. You don't get a good look, though, because the shuttle quickly reaches the landing pad, touching down with a faint thud. You tear your eyes away from the spectacular view, take a deep breath, and steel yourself for what's coming. It's going to be a long day.
The shuttle's ramp makes a slight clunk as it hits the ground, and the wind of a new world blows in through the opening.
And by the Emperor, it smells terrible! The air has an acrid odor so strong that feels like it's searing your throat and lungs. You cough a few times, bending over, and your eyes water. You've never smelled anything as foul as this. The only comparison that comes to mind is the time someone forgot to change the atmospheric filters aboard the station.
You straighten up and look out. The view is even better from this angle, but you're a little too nervous to properly appreciate it right now. The landing pad has a short walkway leading to what you guess must be the governor's palace. On either side, an honor guard of soldiers have drawn up, three ranks deep. As the Inquisitor steps out, they salute and shout something that you don't quite catch over the wind.
As you walk down the pathway to the palace, you glance at the honor guard, and note that they're all very carefully staring past your little group, rather than at you. That's probably a good idea. It's what you'd do in their shoes.
The inside of the governor's palace smells much more pleasant. The air is thicker and smells vaguely floral. Art decorates the pastel-colored walls, and carefully chiseled sculptures line the hallways. You don't have time to appreciate it, though, as the Inquisitor strides quickly from room to room.
Eventually, you reach an enormous pair of doors with a guard on each side. The guards bow to the Inquisitor and speak. "Hail and well-met. We shall not obstruct you, but it is tradition for all of those who enter the Hall of Magnates for the first time to state their name and intentions. We humbly beg that you honor us by doing the same."
"That will be no problem at all," says the Inquisitor calmly. "I am Inquisitor Cleistos. I come here on behalf of the Emperor of Man, to fulfil my sacred duties."
The guards bow again, then walk in front of the doors and grasp their enormous handles. Despite being almost forty feet tall and made out of what must be solid wood, the doors swing open with barely a sound, although you think the guards are straining a bit.
The sound of conversation drifts in from the room behind. "...the Arbites have long known there is some lurking heresy in the lower hive– well, beyond the heresies that down-hivers are naturally predisposed towards, anyway– and have been taking steps towards eradicating it."
"Good, good. Do you have any details?" You recognize Interrogator Iona's voice.
"I am afraid not, but I believe the Chief Arbitrator can offer greater specifics, although I'm afraid they're all a little busy at the–"
The conversation abruptly halts as the Inquisitor enters the room.
Walking in behind him, you take in the scene before you. The room is round, with a vaulted dome covered in murals. At the center of the room is a raised platform with a semicircle of what you can only describe as thrones, each of which is currently occupied. Around the platform are rings of seats for… spectators, maybe? But all of them are empty right now, thankfully.
As the Inquisitor approaches the platform, the people sitting on the thrones stand up and bow slightly at the Inquisitor, who nods in return.
"Inquisitor," says Iona, "I have the very great pleasure of introducing you to the foremost citizens of this world."
"First, Governor Theodorus Dei," she gestures at a slightly overweight man with blond hair, blue eyes, and a slightly boyish face, who smiles and nods as he is introduced.
"Lord Aridus Sidereum," a man who looks a little like he's been rolled out of bed, despite his finery, but he still gives the Inquisitor a dazzling smile. "Lord Leo Castitas," is a small, thin man whose smile is far more nervous than the governor's. "Lord Rufus Palus," looks slightly bored, but "Lady Rosa Aquilarum" has the grin of someone who's just been told they're getting double rations for a week.
"Lady Lily Veritas," turns out to be an old woman looking right at you with a shrewd sort of look that makes you distinctly uncomfortable. As Iona finishes by introducing one "Lord Thell Mors," who completely fails to make any sort of impression, you fight the urge to squirm or stare back at her.
No. You grit your teeth and stand still. You're not going to embarrass yourself on your first mission out.
"I am afraid that the head of the Arbites is currently preoccupied putting down a riot. The lords inform me that rumors of our arrival have been leaked, and some recidivists panicked. Lord David Angelos would also be here–" Iona gestures at an empty seat– "but it seems he is not feeling well in his old age."
"That is unfortunate, but it is a great pleasure to meet you all," says the Inquisitor calmly. To your relief, Lady Veritas' gaze turns to him. "With your cooperation, I am certain this will be resolved satisfactorily and with minimal difficulty. Unfortunately, as you have doubtlessly gathered from Interrogator Iona's questions, I do not know as much as I would like about the… challenges… this world faces. I received your astropathic call for aid, but while my astropath was able to determine where it was from, he could not determine the contents with any great clarity."
The lords glance at each other, clearly confused. You're momentary thrown as well, until it clicks. Right. He's bluffing about receiving a message. He came here because he got a report from somebody, not because of a distress call. But he doesn't want the nobles to know that, and you're not sure why. "With utmost respect, Inquisitor," the governor says carefully, "I do not believe that any such message was sent."
"Impossible," says the Inquisitor briskly, "that astropath was one of the finest I have ever worked with, and was exacting in his duties. While he was martyred before he could fully decipher the message, he was quite certain that it came from this planet."
"Then it was not sent with my blessing," says the governor, "and although I am glad as ever to have the honor of hosting the Inquisition, there is no great task I require your assistance with. As far as I know the majority of my citizens are innocent."
"If that is so, my visit here will be short," sighs the Inquisitor. "Very well, let us make this swift, then. I have a few more questions for you, but I am sure I will have many more for the astropaths at your command. Navigator Tasman, if you would go to them?"
"Of course, Inquisitor," says the Navigator smoothly. "I will also make enquiries with my fellow Navigators on this planet. Perhaps they will have more information."
He turns to the rest of you. "Interrogator Karst, take the rest of my entourage. I trust you to find a suitable task for them while I am otherwise occupied."
"Sir," says Karst, and nods. You follow him out the chamber as the Inquisitor turns back to the assembled nobility.
You follow Interrogator Karst through a maze of rooms to what must be the Inquisitor's temporary command center. A group of Tempestus Scions are standing at attention beside the door, and they salute as Interrogator Karst approaches. "At ease," he says, and then gestures for you to remain outside. You stand awkwardly a few paces from the Tempestus Scions and just wait for a few minutes.
"So," mutters one of the Scions, "this'll be a short stay, right?" They all laugh.
"Hey, don't be a buzzkill. Maybe Karst will get us planetside leave this time," says one of them.
"Well, careful what you wish for," another retorts. "We technically got leave last time, remember?"
"Yeah, but at least–" the other Scion stops abruptly as the door opens and the Interrogator walks out.
"Good news," says Karst cheerfully. "You're being deployed." He nods at you. "And you're going with them."
The Scions glance at you, but if they're uncomfortable about you tagging along, they give no sign of it. "Yessir," one of them says. "Where to?"
Where are you going?
[X] "Lord Angelos' mansion. He's not coming to us, so we're going to him."
[X] "The underhive. Arbites have been keeping tabs on a suspected witch for a while now, and Telos thinks she might have intel."
[X] "Governor Dei's artifact collection. It looks like someone stole a few items, so Iona's going to go investigate."
– Horace, Odes
{ }
You awaken with a start as the shuttle's engines activate. You must have dozed off...
Hastily stuffing your book and pen in your pocket, you peer out the window. The hangar is already mostly empty, and the few people left in it are quickly leaving. Lights are blinking above every door, warning everyone that the hangar will soon be depressurizing. As you watch, the last few people exit, sealing the doors behind them.
There's a faint hiss that fades as the pumps evacuate the last of the air. Then, with a deep rumbling sound that makes the shuttle vibrate slightly, the hangar doors slide open, flooding the shuttle with light.
Leaning forward and squinting into the glare, you can barely make out more than white patches with something darker between them. Before you can take a better look, you're shoved back into your seat as the shuttle suddenly accelerates out the hangar. You let out a little yelp of surprise, and it sounds like you're not the only one caught off guard, as Interrogator Karst lets out a slightly strangled-sounding curse.
You close your eyes and grope around in your pocket for your sunglasses. Putting them on, you peer out again. Even behind the dark glasses, it takes a moment for your eyes to adjust, and you can't see much more than the patches of white. You peer at them more closely, noting their strange, irregular textures: here they look almost like bubbles, there they look more like the stroke of a paintbrush.
Clouds, you realize. You're looking at clouds. Now that you can see them a bit more clearly, you can tell they're floating off the ground. Giant chunks of white the size of entire voidships simply levitating in the air, casting immense shadows across the surface of the world.
Some tiny part of you knows that they're just condensed vapor, not truly solid, but that means nothing to you right now. You simply stare, awestruck, at the drifting giants.
The shuttle's engines stop for a moment, and you suddenly realize that you've been so busy gaping at the clouds you haven't thought to look at what lies beneath them. You look again. The darker surface of the planet is less clear, but what you can see…
Words fail you entirely. You see patches of dark blue slide past, now and then glittering with refracted light, which can only be water. Patches of green that might be forests intermingle with patches of grey and brown. Those must be cities, judging by the smoke coming off them. As the shuttle gets closer, you think you can even pick out the largest of the individual buildings.
Then the world tilts away from you as the shuttle pulls up, the beautiful vista replaced with the more familiar expanse of space. Even if you sit up as tall as you can and crane your head, all you can see is the faintly curving horizon, hazy blue. Glancing up, you look for any familiar stars, but you know it's futile. You're hundreds of light-years from home. If any of the stars you know are visible, they're going to be faint and in the wrong place.
A few minutes later, you notice something sticking up over the planet's horizon. You can guess what it is long before it's clearly visible. A hive city. At first, all you can see are the topmost spires: massive spikes of metal jutting halfway to space. Then you can see the upper hive itself, glittering with countless lights. Then the hive city proper, a man-made mountain sloping away from the spires until it becomes lost in the clouds that swirl around the city's base.
As you approach, you can pick out more and more details. Smokestacks loom out of the clouds, some of them larger than entire hab-blocks. Buildings are crammed together like candles on a shrine, so densely packed that it's hard to tell where one ends and the other begins. As the shuttle flies over the edges of the hive, you can make out the haphazard web of wires, pipes, and vents that seems to coat the city like a second skin.
Then the shuttle reaches the upper spires, the tallest of which are so monumental that the shuttle flies between them instead of above them. You don't get a good look, though, because the shuttle quickly reaches the landing pad, touching down with a faint thud. You tear your eyes away from the spectacular view, take a deep breath, and steel yourself for what's coming. It's going to be a long day.
{ }
The shuttle's ramp makes a slight clunk as it hits the ground, and the wind of a new world blows in through the opening.
DC 40
1d100 = 57 + 0 Constitution = 57
Fine, but not happy.
1d100 = 57 + 0 Constitution = 57
Fine, but not happy.
And by the Emperor, it smells terrible! The air has an acrid odor so strong that feels like it's searing your throat and lungs. You cough a few times, bending over, and your eyes water. You've never smelled anything as foul as this. The only comparison that comes to mind is the time someone forgot to change the atmospheric filters aboard the station.
You straighten up and look out. The view is even better from this angle, but you're a little too nervous to properly appreciate it right now. The landing pad has a short walkway leading to what you guess must be the governor's palace. On either side, an honor guard of soldiers have drawn up, three ranks deep. As the Inquisitor steps out, they salute and shout something that you don't quite catch over the wind.
As you walk down the pathway to the palace, you glance at the honor guard, and note that they're all very carefully staring past your little group, rather than at you. That's probably a good idea. It's what you'd do in their shoes.
{ }
The inside of the governor's palace smells much more pleasant. The air is thicker and smells vaguely floral. Art decorates the pastel-colored walls, and carefully chiseled sculptures line the hallways. You don't have time to appreciate it, though, as the Inquisitor strides quickly from room to room.
Eventually, you reach an enormous pair of doors with a guard on each side. The guards bow to the Inquisitor and speak. "Hail and well-met. We shall not obstruct you, but it is tradition for all of those who enter the Hall of Magnates for the first time to state their name and intentions. We humbly beg that you honor us by doing the same."
"That will be no problem at all," says the Inquisitor calmly. "I am Inquisitor Cleistos. I come here on behalf of the Emperor of Man, to fulfil my sacred duties."
The guards bow again, then walk in front of the doors and grasp their enormous handles. Despite being almost forty feet tall and made out of what must be solid wood, the doors swing open with barely a sound, although you think the guards are straining a bit.
The sound of conversation drifts in from the room behind. "...the Arbites have long known there is some lurking heresy in the lower hive– well, beyond the heresies that down-hivers are naturally predisposed towards, anyway– and have been taking steps towards eradicating it."
"Good, good. Do you have any details?" You recognize Interrogator Iona's voice.
"I am afraid not, but I believe the Chief Arbitrator can offer greater specifics, although I'm afraid they're all a little busy at the–"
The conversation abruptly halts as the Inquisitor enters the room.
Walking in behind him, you take in the scene before you. The room is round, with a vaulted dome covered in murals. At the center of the room is a raised platform with a semicircle of what you can only describe as thrones, each of which is currently occupied. Around the platform are rings of seats for… spectators, maybe? But all of them are empty right now, thankfully.
As the Inquisitor approaches the platform, the people sitting on the thrones stand up and bow slightly at the Inquisitor, who nods in return.
"Inquisitor," says Iona, "I have the very great pleasure of introducing you to the foremost citizens of this world."
"First, Governor Theodorus Dei," she gestures at a slightly overweight man with blond hair, blue eyes, and a slightly boyish face, who smiles and nods as he is introduced.
"Lord Aridus Sidereum," a man who looks a little like he's been rolled out of bed, despite his finery, but he still gives the Inquisitor a dazzling smile. "Lord Leo Castitas," is a small, thin man whose smile is far more nervous than the governor's. "Lord Rufus Palus," looks slightly bored, but "Lady Rosa Aquilarum" has the grin of someone who's just been told they're getting double rations for a week.
"Lady Lily Veritas," turns out to be an old woman looking right at you with a shrewd sort of look that makes you distinctly uncomfortable. As Iona finishes by introducing one "Lord Thell Mors," who completely fails to make any sort of impression, you fight the urge to squirm or stare back at her.
DC 40 + 20 Paranoia = DC 60
1d100 = 37 + 20 Composure + 20 Determined = 77
Hold it together...
1d100 = 37 + 20 Composure + 20 Determined = 77
Hold it together...
No. You grit your teeth and stand still. You're not going to embarrass yourself on your first mission out.
"I am afraid that the head of the Arbites is currently preoccupied putting down a riot. The lords inform me that rumors of our arrival have been leaked, and some recidivists panicked. Lord David Angelos would also be here–" Iona gestures at an empty seat– "but it seems he is not feeling well in his old age."
"That is unfortunate, but it is a great pleasure to meet you all," says the Inquisitor calmly. To your relief, Lady Veritas' gaze turns to him. "With your cooperation, I am certain this will be resolved satisfactorily and with minimal difficulty. Unfortunately, as you have doubtlessly gathered from Interrogator Iona's questions, I do not know as much as I would like about the… challenges… this world faces. I received your astropathic call for aid, but while my astropath was able to determine where it was from, he could not determine the contents with any great clarity."
DC 40 - 20 Insider = DC 20
1d100: 7 + 0 Guile = 7
Nope. Be strong in your ignorance.
1d100: 7 + 0 Guile = 7
Nope. Be strong in your ignorance.
The lords glance at each other, clearly confused. You're momentary thrown as well, until it clicks. Right. He's bluffing about receiving a message. He came here because he got a report from somebody, not because of a distress call. But he doesn't want the nobles to know that, and you're not sure why. "With utmost respect, Inquisitor," the governor says carefully, "I do not believe that any such message was sent."
"Impossible," says the Inquisitor briskly, "that astropath was one of the finest I have ever worked with, and was exacting in his duties. While he was martyred before he could fully decipher the message, he was quite certain that it came from this planet."
"Then it was not sent with my blessing," says the governor, "and although I am glad as ever to have the honor of hosting the Inquisition, there is no great task I require your assistance with. As far as I know the majority of my citizens are innocent."
"If that is so, my visit here will be short," sighs the Inquisitor. "Very well, let us make this swift, then. I have a few more questions for you, but I am sure I will have many more for the astropaths at your command. Navigator Tasman, if you would go to them?"
"Of course, Inquisitor," says the Navigator smoothly. "I will also make enquiries with my fellow Navigators on this planet. Perhaps they will have more information."
He turns to the rest of you. "Interrogator Karst, take the rest of my entourage. I trust you to find a suitable task for them while I am otherwise occupied."
"Sir," says Karst, and nods. You follow him out the chamber as the Inquisitor turns back to the assembled nobility.
{ }
You follow Interrogator Karst through a maze of rooms to what must be the Inquisitor's temporary command center. A group of Tempestus Scions are standing at attention beside the door, and they salute as Interrogator Karst approaches. "At ease," he says, and then gestures for you to remain outside. You stand awkwardly a few paces from the Tempestus Scions and just wait for a few minutes.
"So," mutters one of the Scions, "this'll be a short stay, right?" They all laugh.
"Hey, don't be a buzzkill. Maybe Karst will get us planetside leave this time," says one of them.
"Well, careful what you wish for," another retorts. "We technically got leave last time, remember?"
"Yeah, but at least–" the other Scion stops abruptly as the door opens and the Interrogator walks out.
"Good news," says Karst cheerfully. "You're being deployed." He nods at you. "And you're going with them."
The Scions glance at you, but if they're uncomfortable about you tagging along, they give no sign of it. "Yessir," one of them says. "Where to?"
{ }
Where are you going?
[X] "Lord Angelos' mansion. He's not coming to us, so we're going to him."
[X] "The underhive. Arbites have been keeping tabs on a suspected witch for a while now, and Telos thinks she might have intel."
[X] "Governor Dei's artifact collection. It looks like someone stole a few items, so Iona's going to go investigate."
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- Location
- Europe
[X] "The underhive. Arbites have been keeping tabs on a suspected witch for a while now, and Telos thinks she might have intel."
- Location
- Somewhere left of nowhere near anywhere
[X] "Governor Dei's artifact collection. It looks like someone stole a few items, so Iona's going to go investigate."
This seems the best use of our abilities, at least to me.
This seems the best use of our abilities, at least to me.
Darik29
Verified Delicious
[X] "Lord Angelos' mansion. He's not coming to us, so we're going to him."
Well, if this guy thinks meeting with the Inquisition is voluntary, shoving a Blank in his face seems like exactly the right thing to do to show him how wrong he is. Also, gotta work our niche. Intimidation is our one actual strength, beyond lasguns.
Well, if this guy thinks meeting with the Inquisition is voluntary, shoving a Blank in his face seems like exactly the right thing to do to show him how wrong he is. Also, gotta work our niche. Intimidation is our one actual strength, beyond lasguns.
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X] "The underhive. Arbites have been keeping tabs on a suspected witch for a while now, and Telos thinks she might have intel."
If she's a psyker, our presence will confirm it via her reaction.
If she's a psyker, our presence will confirm it via her reaction.
Night_stalker
Slava Ukraini!
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[x] "The underhive. Arbites have been keeping tabs on a suspected witch for a while now, and Telos thinks she might have intel."
Sir_Travelsalot
Never wakes up tired.
- Location
- At Home
[X] "The underhive. Arbites have been keeping tabs on a suspected witch for a while now, and Telos thinks she might have intel."
BungieONI
Seven gremlins in a trench coat
- Location
- Lickwidget
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Couple of things that stood out to me.
The combination of these votes also makes me suspicious. That last one and the witch option in particular since some artifacts were noted to be pretty bad.
[x] "The underhive. Arbites have been keeping tabs on a suspected witch for a while now, and Telos thinks she might have intel."
Heh sunglasses inside and this is really cute. Cloudwatching might be fun.
So there's a couple things that could have caught her eye: Ariadne's dynamic within the group though I find it unlikely since its rather subtle, her voidborn heritage which tends to be relatively visible due to body shape and skin tone, or she realized Ariadne is a Blank. I'm assuming its the last one.
The combination of these votes also makes me suspicious. That last one and the witch option in particular since some artifacts were noted to be pretty bad.
[x] "The underhive. Arbites have been keeping tabs on a suspected witch for a while now, and Telos thinks she might have intel."
- Location
- Norway
[X] "The underhive. Arbites have been keeping tabs on a suspected witch for a while now, and Telos thinks she might have intel."
[] "Governor Dei's artifact collection. It looks like someone stole a few items, so Iona's going to go investigate."
I'm torn between these two. Heretical artifacts and witches are what we excel at, while I don't have the impression that we are very intimidating.
[] "Governor Dei's artifact collection. It looks like someone stole a few items, so Iona's going to go investigate."
I'm torn between these two. Heretical artifacts and witches are what we excel at, while I don't have the impression that we are very intimidating.
1.4 Gainful Employment
Horologer
Incertae sedis
- Location
- a risen sea
"You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy."
– Obi-Wan Kenobi, A New Hope
"We need more guns in this fight," says Telos abruptly, looking up from the papers she's been hunched over.
"With respect," begins the Arbites standing next to her, but Telos interrupts him.
"Let me finish. I have no doubt we can win this battle, but with the resistance we're up against, there will be casualties. Arbites don't grow on trees, Chief. Neither do Scions, for that matter." She glances over her shoulder. "And between you and me," she says in a quieter voice, "we may need every reliable soldier we can get in the next few days. We're not sure how high up this goes."
The Chief Arbitrator nods slowly and thinks for a moment. "PDF will take too long to get here, and the local enforcers aren't going to show up for something like this," he says. "Did you have something else in mind?"
"We've got a hive full of stubber-sucking gangsters. Find me some."
"This far down, ma'am?" the Chief says, clearly taken aback. "These rats wouldn't attack a hardened position for love or money."
"Then conscript them," Telos says irritably. "They'll be doing their duty for once in their lives. Shooting things up is their only skill, so we might as well make use of it. If they whine, you've got a shock maul. And if the cowards try to run, you have a bolt pistol."
"I can probably find some, but I have to warn you that the quality will likely be poor, even by what passes for standards in this pit."
"I don't care. They don't need to be good. All they need to do is shoot at the enemy and take bullets meant for us. Just get them fast. The more, the better."
The Arbites nods. "Understood, ma'am. I'll see what I can find." He turns and walks out, surprisingly quiet for someone wearing heavy carapace armor.
Telos turns to you. "Blank, your job is to not die. Your orders are to stick with me and follow my orders. And then once we see the witch, you grab the witch. Don't kill her, we need to extract answers from her first. Is that clear?"
"Yes, Interrogator," you reply dutifully.
Telos gives a satisfied nod and turns back towards the window. "Throne, it's a relief not to be talked back to," she mutters. If you hadn't had the habit thoroughly beaten out of you, you'd be rolling your eyes right now. If she thought the Chief Arbitrator was talking back to her, you wonder how she's avoided executing everyone beneath her for insubordination.
"This place really is a pit," grumbles Telos, still facing the window. Much as you'd like to disagree with her, she's not wrong. The building you're in is a covert Arbites safehouse, so it's reasonably clean and heavily reinforced, but outside…
You turn to the window. From here, you have an excellent view of the district, which is only slightly impeded by the grime coating the outside of the windowpane. This particular district is nestled inside the superstructure of the hive. If you look up, you can see the ceiling, a grim grey slab of metal stretching across the entire width of the district.
The sheer height of the ceiling is unnerving. You remind yourself that on planets, a ceiling stays a ceiling. The gravity's not at risk of going out or being turned off. Or being reversed because some idiot installed something backwards again. Up is always the same direction; there's no risk of falling or floating away. It's fine. You're fine.
The city below the ceiling is less unsettling. This area is built on some kind of platform raised above the planet's surface. Small buildings carpet the "ground", squeezed between the narrow streets and the enormous support pillars that dot the area. At the center of the district sprawls a tangle of piping and scaffolding that might be some kind of refinery. The air down here is so hazy that you can't actually see the edges of the district from here, and so polluted you need to wear a mask to avoid coughing your lungs up. Even through the window, you can hear the dull roar of machinery and the steady thrum of generators.
Looking out into the distance, it's hard to believe that people truly live here, breathing the brown air and trudging the filthy streets. But they manage, somehow. You peer down. The streets far below are so crowded that you can't even see the pavement. It occurs to you that right now, you're probably looking at more people than all the other people you've ever seen before in your life, all put together. It's a disconcerting thought.
The building's courtyard is packed with gangsters. They smell of cheap lho sticks and cheaper alcohol. They wear a wide range of frankly ridiculous hairstyles that sharply clash with their drab clothing. All of them have the wiry bodies of laborers that don't quite eat enough to truly bulk out, and are covered in tattoos of varying quality and taste. To complete the stereotype, they're also armed to the teeth with stubbers, knives, and stubbers with knives.
Normally, this would be the point at which you turn around, walk out the door, and let them be somebody else's problem. Unfortunately, in this case the Inquisition is that "somebody else", so you can't do that. Fortunately, they're on your side. Kind of. In theory. You're still keeping both eyes on them. The last time you ran into a gang… You shudder a little and tug your coat into place. Well, you're glad that you're wearing flak armor.
Telos has been giving the gangsters a lecture for the past couple minutes. You think it's supposed to be an inspiring speech, but it's falling pretty flat. Not that you're one to talk about bad speeches, but this would probably work better if Telos didn't obviously despise her audience.
"Now," Telos says coolly, "I understand that you were just shooting at each other, and that this is quite a lot to take in for people of your class. But the Emperor, in His infinite grace, gives us countless ways to serve and countless paths towards that service." Telos pauses for a moment to give the gangsters a very insincere smile.
The assembled gangsters give each other nervous glances. Earlier, the three gangs were hissing insults and making gestures at each other. Now they're quiet and still. Mostly still, anyway. Apparently the Arbites had found these gangs caught in a three-way firefight, so some of them are probably still coming down off an adrenaline high. Or coming down off of a regular high, now that you think about it. You've heard rumors that gangs load up on stims before getting into a shootout.
"Succeed," Telos says, "and I will personally ensure you are rewarded. Not that you should require it, I should hope," and a disdainful note creeps into her voice, "but if that is what it takes to motivate those whose faith is lacking, so be it."
"Fail," Telos says conversationally, "and you will be making your excuses to the Emperor in person." Wow. And you thought they looked nervous before. "Any questions about the orders I have given you?" Unsurprisingly, the gangsters keep their mouths shut. "Good. Follow the Arbites. Do whatever they tell you to. The Scions are also your superiors, so if they give you an order, obey them too. And remember, do not shoot the witch."
Your group marches along the back streets. Everyone is covered in drab cloth hoods and cloaks to make your arrival a little less obvious, but anyone who looks carefully can tell that some of you are wearing serious armor underneath. The faint clank of guns against armor is another dead giveaway for those close enough to hear it over the noise of the hive. The crowd practically jumps out of your way as you cross the district, so you make good time.
You eventually stop just around the corner from a small hab-block. The building is a plain chunk of unpainted plasticrete. The crenellations and facade seem to have been carelessly bolted on, and here and there you can see places where they've fallen off and haven't been replaced. Half of its handful of windows have been boarded up or bricked closed. In short, the building's drab, run-down, and utterly unremarkable. The only signs of anything unusual are the two gangsters standing by the front entrance.
Looking over your shoulder, you can see the Tempestus Scions and Arbites slipping on their helmets and tossing aside their dirty cloaks. The gangsters check over their stubbers, and a few of them nervously make the sign of the aquila. As you look down at your lasrifle and mutter a quick litany to its Machine Spirit, you feel your heart beginning to beat a little faster. It's happening. Your first real battle. What are you going to do?
How will you act during this skirmish?
[X] Aggressively. You can keep safe and still prove your worth.
[X] Flexibly. Just keep an eye out for any opportunities.
[X] Carefully. Keep your head down until you're needed.
– Obi-Wan Kenobi, A New Hope
{ }
"We need more guns in this fight," says Telos abruptly, looking up from the papers she's been hunched over.
"With respect," begins the Arbites standing next to her, but Telos interrupts him.
"Let me finish. I have no doubt we can win this battle, but with the resistance we're up against, there will be casualties. Arbites don't grow on trees, Chief. Neither do Scions, for that matter." She glances over her shoulder. "And between you and me," she says in a quieter voice, "we may need every reliable soldier we can get in the next few days. We're not sure how high up this goes."
The Chief Arbitrator nods slowly and thinks for a moment. "PDF will take too long to get here, and the local enforcers aren't going to show up for something like this," he says. "Did you have something else in mind?"
"We've got a hive full of stubber-sucking gangsters. Find me some."
"This far down, ma'am?" the Chief says, clearly taken aback. "These rats wouldn't attack a hardened position for love or money."
"Then conscript them," Telos says irritably. "They'll be doing their duty for once in their lives. Shooting things up is their only skill, so we might as well make use of it. If they whine, you've got a shock maul. And if the cowards try to run, you have a bolt pistol."
"I can probably find some, but I have to warn you that the quality will likely be poor, even by what passes for standards in this pit."
"I don't care. They don't need to be good. All they need to do is shoot at the enemy and take bullets meant for us. Just get them fast. The more, the better."
The Arbites nods. "Understood, ma'am. I'll see what I can find." He turns and walks out, surprisingly quiet for someone wearing heavy carapace armor.
Telos turns to you. "Blank, your job is to not die. Your orders are to stick with me and follow my orders. And then once we see the witch, you grab the witch. Don't kill her, we need to extract answers from her first. Is that clear?"
"Yes, Interrogator," you reply dutifully.
Telos gives a satisfied nod and turns back towards the window. "Throne, it's a relief not to be talked back to," she mutters. If you hadn't had the habit thoroughly beaten out of you, you'd be rolling your eyes right now. If she thought the Chief Arbitrator was talking back to her, you wonder how she's avoided executing everyone beneath her for insubordination.
"This place really is a pit," grumbles Telos, still facing the window. Much as you'd like to disagree with her, she's not wrong. The building you're in is a covert Arbites safehouse, so it's reasonably clean and heavily reinforced, but outside…
You turn to the window. From here, you have an excellent view of the district, which is only slightly impeded by the grime coating the outside of the windowpane. This particular district is nestled inside the superstructure of the hive. If you look up, you can see the ceiling, a grim grey slab of metal stretching across the entire width of the district.
The sheer height of the ceiling is unnerving. You remind yourself that on planets, a ceiling stays a ceiling. The gravity's not at risk of going out or being turned off. Or being reversed because some idiot installed something backwards again. Up is always the same direction; there's no risk of falling or floating away. It's fine. You're fine.
The city below the ceiling is less unsettling. This area is built on some kind of platform raised above the planet's surface. Small buildings carpet the "ground", squeezed between the narrow streets and the enormous support pillars that dot the area. At the center of the district sprawls a tangle of piping and scaffolding that might be some kind of refinery. The air down here is so hazy that you can't actually see the edges of the district from here, and so polluted you need to wear a mask to avoid coughing your lungs up. Even through the window, you can hear the dull roar of machinery and the steady thrum of generators.
Looking out into the distance, it's hard to believe that people truly live here, breathing the brown air and trudging the filthy streets. But they manage, somehow. You peer down. The streets far below are so crowded that you can't even see the pavement. It occurs to you that right now, you're probably looking at more people than all the other people you've ever seen before in your life, all put together. It's a disconcerting thought.
{ }
Quantity?
DC: 30 / 60 / 90
1d100 = 96 + 10 Don't care who = 106
No shortage of warm bodies.
2d10 = 4, 6 = 10
2d10 = 3, 7 = 10
2d10 = 5, 8 = 13
33 gangsters as 'reinforcements'.
Quality?
DC 30 / 60 / 90
1d100 = 55 - 10 Press-ganged = 45
Low.
Rally the troops?
DC 50
1d100 = 5 + 40 Charisma - 20 Arrogant + 10 Command = 35
nope.mp4
Your opinion on the gangsters?
DC 40 / 80
1d100 = 73 + 0 Guile - 20 Paranoid = 53
Suspicious.
DC: 30 / 60 / 90
1d100 = 96 + 10 Don't care who = 106
No shortage of warm bodies.
2d10 = 4, 6 = 10
2d10 = 3, 7 = 10
2d10 = 5, 8 = 13
33 gangsters as 'reinforcements'.
Quality?
DC 30 / 60 / 90
1d100 = 55 - 10 Press-ganged = 45
Low.
Rally the troops?
DC 50
1d100 = 5 + 40 Charisma - 20 Arrogant + 10 Command = 35
nope.mp4
Your opinion on the gangsters?
DC 40 / 80
1d100 = 73 + 0 Guile - 20 Paranoid = 53
Suspicious.
The building's courtyard is packed with gangsters. They smell of cheap lho sticks and cheaper alcohol. They wear a wide range of frankly ridiculous hairstyles that sharply clash with their drab clothing. All of them have the wiry bodies of laborers that don't quite eat enough to truly bulk out, and are covered in tattoos of varying quality and taste. To complete the stereotype, they're also armed to the teeth with stubbers, knives, and stubbers with knives.
Normally, this would be the point at which you turn around, walk out the door, and let them be somebody else's problem. Unfortunately, in this case the Inquisition is that "somebody else", so you can't do that. Fortunately, they're on your side. Kind of. In theory. You're still keeping both eyes on them. The last time you ran into a gang… You shudder a little and tug your coat into place. Well, you're glad that you're wearing flak armor.
Telos has been giving the gangsters a lecture for the past couple minutes. You think it's supposed to be an inspiring speech, but it's falling pretty flat. Not that you're one to talk about bad speeches, but this would probably work better if Telos didn't obviously despise her audience.
"Now," Telos says coolly, "I understand that you were just shooting at each other, and that this is quite a lot to take in for people of your class. But the Emperor, in His infinite grace, gives us countless ways to serve and countless paths towards that service." Telos pauses for a moment to give the gangsters a very insincere smile.
The assembled gangsters give each other nervous glances. Earlier, the three gangs were hissing insults and making gestures at each other. Now they're quiet and still. Mostly still, anyway. Apparently the Arbites had found these gangs caught in a three-way firefight, so some of them are probably still coming down off an adrenaline high. Or coming down off of a regular high, now that you think about it. You've heard rumors that gangs load up on stims before getting into a shootout.
"Succeed," Telos says, "and I will personally ensure you are rewarded. Not that you should require it, I should hope," and a disdainful note creeps into her voice, "but if that is what it takes to motivate those whose faith is lacking, so be it."
"Fail," Telos says conversationally, "and you will be making your excuses to the Emperor in person." Wow. And you thought they looked nervous before. "Any questions about the orders I have given you?" Unsurprisingly, the gangsters keep their mouths shut. "Good. Follow the Arbites. Do whatever they tell you to. The Scions are also your superiors, so if they give you an order, obey them too. And remember, do not shoot the witch."
{ }
Your group marches along the back streets. Everyone is covered in drab cloth hoods and cloaks to make your arrival a little less obvious, but anyone who looks carefully can tell that some of you are wearing serious armor underneath. The faint clank of guns against armor is another dead giveaway for those close enough to hear it over the noise of the hive. The crowd practically jumps out of your way as you cross the district, so you make good time.
DC 60
1d100 = 83 - 10 Obvious - 10 Enemy lookouts = 63
Sneaky enough.
1d100 = 83 - 10 Obvious - 10 Enemy lookouts = 63
Sneaky enough.
You eventually stop just around the corner from a small hab-block. The building is a plain chunk of unpainted plasticrete. The crenellations and facade seem to have been carelessly bolted on, and here and there you can see places where they've fallen off and haven't been replaced. Half of its handful of windows have been boarded up or bricked closed. In short, the building's drab, run-down, and utterly unremarkable. The only signs of anything unusual are the two gangsters standing by the front entrance.
Looking over your shoulder, you can see the Tempestus Scions and Arbites slipping on their helmets and tossing aside their dirty cloaks. The gangsters check over their stubbers, and a few of them nervously make the sign of the aquila. As you look down at your lasrifle and mutter a quick litany to its Machine Spirit, you feel your heart beginning to beat a little faster. It's happening. Your first real battle. What are you going to do?
{ }
How will you act during this skirmish?
[X] Aggressively. You can keep safe and still prove your worth.
[X] Flexibly. Just keep an eye out for any opportunities.
[X] Carefully. Keep your head down until you're needed.
Sir_Travelsalot
Never wakes up tired.
- Location
- At Home
[X] Carefully. Keep your head down until you're needed.
Our orders are to not die, so let's not die.
Our orders are to not die, so let's not die.