If we're talking piety to machine gods I pledge mine to the dubtedly extant god of all machines and technology. The foolish so called dragon and new man are both but pretenders at the notion of technology.
SAMPLE! TEST! EXAMINE! SCIENCE FOR THE SCIENCE GODS! MACHINES FOR THE MACHINE THRONE!
[X] Meditate and try to connect to The God of All Science and Technology
-[x] Use Moderate Favour
Perhaps if one were able to see the scene that was occurring they would assign a description to what was happening. Perhaps they would call it Armageddon for the destruction that was wrought as if calling back to the original destroyed city. But that would also speak of rebirth and rebuilding for there was still a city to return to and stones to place again. Here that was not so or at least would soon be so. Perhaps a reference to Sodom and Gommorah for its destruction would be appropriate, there certainly looked to be enough salt around. Said salt was not actually that material, no it was instead the byproducts left from the processing of those that had lived here. Freshly done as well to the fear of those that walked through. Survival of the fittest had been at work, only the most adaptive or just plain lucky were left. A rag tag group bound together by the understanding that to go alone was to be forfeit. Time had lost its meaning here, there was only the next hour and the one after that.
They needed to find somewhere to rest for the night. Some weird quirk whether of pragmatism or malice made the monsters that haunted the world only come out at night. It was not much of a guarantee of survival but it was something, it played to their instinctive desires. So the group walked amongst buildings that once housed tens of thousands, now reduced to ruins stripped of the most easily removed materials and the dust of the processed. Eventually the group chose to enter one building that seemed somewhat intact. It had been heavily damaged judging from the amount of collapsed struts and debris. Perhaps something still lingered to be gathered underneath all the debris, the monsters not wanting to do so when so much more accessible prey wandered around with readily accessible material.
So they entered what had once seemed to be an audience hall of the type for a classical theater. Here they found signs that bucked the normal trend of things. Scuff marks of more recent activity, two sets. One intriguing, the other more deadly. One seemed to be human, the other the mismatched nonsense that was trademark of the tainted iron in its irregularity. With senses honed from long experience of similar hunts the group easily put a few silenced rounds into the bot that thought itself the ambusher. One already damaged seemingly. It took a great deal of firepower regardless to put down, its malevolent animator refusing to return to the Immaterium so easily. Multi limbed and twisted metal attempted to lash out at the dodging group, jeering and haunting laughter that tried to worm its way into vulnerable ports had no takers. It did not fall silent so easily, still it eventually died.
The prize after such a monster was killed was not much but still a treasure trove to such a group. The crushed and mangled remains of an audience, the malevolent not surviving so easily against the collapse of tons of ferrocrete and metal upon their heads. Much of it seemed useless at first, but they could scavenge well enough. Ornate sidearms of the sort brought to be shown off in finery still proved that their cost was well worth for they survived. Rich durable cloth torn out and used for other things. And a particular prize was the concessions stands, their contents showing signs of looting but otherwise mostly still there. A sign that harkened back to the prints they saw earlier, there were two after all. And only enough items were taken that it seemed like only a single person had been here.
The group was efficient in its cornering, unlike the coldy intelligent but still foreign mind of the iron they were human. So they eventually cornered the soon apparent young lady in a room. Her silence telling of something else for no sound had been made by her during their chase but for the pants of the tired and even then it was muted. It was a single person from the group that tried to calm down the figure, even a few shots from a pistol not shaking her resolve. They would never have hit anyway with how bad the aim was. Something that was japed out and gave the shooter pause. Part sympathy drove the old merc to attempt communication, but just as much was the cold calculation of the girl's condition. Alive after days or even weeks of being hunted was something. And the girl's cybernetics still functioned seemingly at full form even with their rather jerry rigged appearance. In the end did it matter the reasoning? The girl would survive as would they if they could help it be so.
Revealing of the trait: Survivor
+10 to Tech Use when creating or maintaining makeshift components
+10 to Agility and Perception rolls when hunted
[X] Meditate and try to connect to The God of All Science and Technology
-[x] Use Moderate Favour
Working on the splicer data once again was an arduous task compared to the previous attempt. The reason being that all the easy work had been done. All the digital knife cuts made, the information gathered. Now you had to discover how to make use of it. Any serious work at creating a new hacking program would not bear fruit at this stage without a minor miracle. Instead you discovered the best way of going about this is to find out what does not work and going from there. Taking a copy of your own personal security program and setting it against the splicer program, you first found out how it failed and why such failures occurred. It would likely take many different iterative generations to succeed but you expected to at least get a stable foundation to work from with this.
All this while listening to the latest news delivery from the Sol system. It is depressing news to say the least. The rather prominent separatist movement based on Mars is again agitating in the face of what they call the failure of the Federation. The separatist movement has been a abetted by the Mechanicum for a long time, not part of the founder's vision but support by those in the ranks has been increasing lately. A move being echoed by martian descended worlds whether they are Mechanicum aligned or not. It is no longer a fringe movement, not as it works to unravel the Federation one way or another. Oh its an unraveling that will take centuries but also one that is not showing signs of being halted. The politicians in the highest Council seeming to be taken more and more ideological stances, simply being a nationalist is tame in comparison to several views that range from government ordained pogroms to other extreme measures in the face of societal instability. The Iron War being used as a blunt political hammer against each other alongside other issues.
The social repercussions on Dobara have not exactly been able to be held at bay. Even as some talking heads and other influential figures continue to go over local issues like the mag derailment that mulched much of your 34th's Knights, the political spectrum is reacting to bigger issues. Dobara was and still is a prime location of immigration for many displaced Martian diaspora populations. Its relative proximity to the Ultramar regions also lending an image of stability and more importantly sustainable access. You yourself were part of the tail end of the recent immigration surge, the loss of much of Mar's biosphere leading to many Mechanicum populations to disperse to friendly worlds. While Dobara was a hub associated with the Centrists and Liberals as they used Dobara to station a number of joint development projects and business networks, the conservatives and separatist radicals also were here with more prominent military power. An impromptu balancing act that still teetered. You would likely be rubbing shoulders so to say with many such at the soon to be meal at the Taranis manor.
That was not even getting to what the long term natives of the sector were like. Their own views were not the same as many of the more closely martian descended, often times incredibly different. They had their own voice and were not shy in speaking of how they regarded the changes to their world. Still freedom of speech was a thing, regulated but still present. Hopefully the discussions will continue, the violence was ugly enough on Terra and Mars that you did not need such events here. Both planets were already ruined by the Iron Men rebellions, the violence afterwards turned both worlds to near failed backwater world status. Stick such things gave you other opportunities to exploit, such as an answer to your need for a command crew and just general wish to have a bunch of minions to boss around. Instead of looking around the general market you tried finding a few affiliates through the martian business networks and found what you needed. Or rather it found you.
You usually did not meet others in person for judging their potential worth to you. Still on this count you felt reasonably safe doing so. Considering their mothers and fathers were all watching over their shoulders after all. This was part of the newest generation of misfits that made up the Mad Foxes PMC. Turns out your old outfit was busy going through reorganization issues and was now looking to offload some of the less disciplined lot to someplace trustworthy, which meant you. On the one hand this was a particularly unruly bunch to watch, on the other they were your old friend's children or even grandchildren and people you really want to help out. They all had a baseline level of competence you knew but not exactly alot of experience either. The continued business contracts and somewhat assured loyalty of this lot over....
Actually you do not have much choice considering their potential replacements/alternatives are not exactly favorable. You had found a source for the synthetics you could have used but they are the minimum you would need. Cheap enough you were honestly going to get them anyway as they were generalist models, but for organic crew you had only the best of the worst to pick from.
So you turn back your to the waiting holographic faces and nod. You get a few cheeky grins and more from your friends. You tune out their snarky comments and backchat to look upon the group you just assumed responsibility over. Frankly fresh meat was all you could see, aside from their one minder who you sent a respectful nod to. Another child of your friends but noticeably older then the rest, the only one with signs of anti-agathics was him though he was actually just under your own technical age. A bit bizarre considering you remember hearing about his toddler antics when it was fresh. Considering everyone from the previous generation of Mad Foxes skipped a collective two or so generations thanks to a mix of several stints of stasis and warp shenanigans is still something you need to process. Everyone else however looked their age.
You spoke a few final words with your friends and left to return to business. You admit your mood was not the best as you undertook the next part of your schedule, the meeting with friends was good but also brought to the fore older memories. Ones that were already knocking at the doors to your mind.
Taking the time to do a rare refresh of your mind you went back to preparing for the banquet meal. Quite a few different items needed to be resolved for itinerary of the meal. Conforming to the dress code meant getting some of your more elaborate robes in the Martian Orthodox Style, tastefully designed decorative inlays applied to your cybernetics, and making sure your entourage was both acceptable and also able to be brought.
The clothes were easily done as you refreshed them due to their time in storage. Gold and silver adornments showing some of your achievements and positions worked like embroidery into the synthetic fiber cloth. Comfortable but elaborate. The various inlays from various other ceremonies you had to attend, a little jewelry box contained everything for you to pick from. And of course the entourage was approved to accompany you if you made a few changes to those included. Mostly about the guards, ny guards brought along would be ceremonial. Practically this could not be the case but the consideration would be appreciated. Understated appearance but ceremonial arms in the form of extendable metallic polearms would work. A few other weapons built into them for protection but nothing that can be called an assassin's tool. All the squirreled away bits and pieces you had gathered over the years now put together in a coherent fashionable get up.
The means of transportation was a rented hover car of suitable style, perhaps in other circles you would be required to bring an escort but that was a little too archaic even for the knight houses. Those physical touches done there was the mental. You managed to get an abbreviated guest list as was your right so you might as well do some research. You looked up the names of any major magnates, political figures, and of course the prominent figures in the Mechanicum ideology scene both local and Martian. You would be as prepared as you could be for this. Which might not be enough, so many figures in the public eye is sure to spawn civil protests of one form or another. Something all too common in the present atmosphere, still there had not been any widespread violence so hopefully things would go well. Though for some reason you felt the need to....seek assurance. You have not felt like this since you were a child....when mars was still whole and the world made sense without needing effort. The urge...
Sitting alone within your room you contemplated how your life has gone so far, and the things you intended to have pass. The chemical-electrical spark bouncing from purely biological neuron to artificial photonic tracks in your brain. The thought remembered in frozen clarity and left to sit in recessed storage. You were unsure of exactly what you were doing, moving like as if a dream around your room. You had stepped to behind your desk, its wood laminated form hiding the hard metal core. You had taken out one of the incense burners you kept and lit it. Now it burned at the center of the desk, backdropped by all the baubles you had 'collected' over the years. The heady scent of the machine smoke helping your mind to further blur the boundary between the purely physical and the abstract informational. Then you took a seat and thought.
Life seemed so... inscrutable at time. Objectively life had no meaning, what meaning was there in how things came to be and how one's heart kept beating? The mechanics were known but was there anything further? How did a child know to live but through the efforts of its parent? From the first breath one took in the world around them, remembered and later took action. You remembered your early life, those moments of peace when your parents still lived and you were but a small child. Your little form settled on one knee and the texts of the Cult Mechanicum spoken out loud both to your parents and yourself.
You remembered in kindergarten the grand tales of the founders, their wishes and wisdom. Your remembered from your parents their follies and their hopes. You remembered being told to be able to think, to learn, to grow in knowledge. It was to this that you exceeded even beyond your peers, you needed to learn everything and anything. At first for your parents and everyone your family knew. Then as you grew older and more worldly you were asked to consider your own reasons to undertake the path. To be able to be granted the red robes of a member of the Cult, to openly declare your position rather then hide behind the vogue youth fashion of the day. Perhaps even now you still searched for such an answer, it would not be a bad search. An objective alongside the ultimate Quest for Knowledge.
They say that only fools would think they could ever know all, well is it truly a fool to keep trying? Wisdom, is it to stagnate without lifting ones own finger to live? So fools die but so do wise men. Both meet their end in time, the question is whether they did so gladly or not. That was at least part of the answer to some of your goals. But that does not mean scars do not form. You knew you were not over them, perhaps not ever. Still you kept going. After all the pain, after all the sorrow you still had to have a reason to keep going. The fool's path seemed an ill trodden and dark enough path to you. Faith and Rationality.
So all of that led you to sitting with an old book in your hands. Taken from the secure drawer in your desk. The marks of age present on the electrofibre pages. A relic in its own right. The words and images imbedded within changing as your fingers put just the right pressure on the kinetic sensors to change to the next page of the book. So like and unlike a paper book, but if the full text was in paper then it would take an entire library shelf's worth of space. Turning back to the frontmost pages you saw the litany of names. A record of your family lineage. You were the last, whether there would be another to pass this book down to and record their own name in it is not something you know. A relic in its own rite as you took out the badge key and it returned to an inert state, the hardcover object now shut and returned to the table stand that was its place of keeping.
You could feel as this rambling and dust gathering went on in your mind that the incense was doing its work even further. The particular mental stimulant and hallucinogenic mix now kicking in fully. Many swore by its ability to help one extend their faith, as many disavowed its addictive nature. But you knew that in your day to day state that you could not do that one thing that was needed. To let yourself go and be untethered by rational thought, to embrace the irrational and renew your faith this one time like you had never had it before. You had a momentous task to undertake, tens of thousands of lives looking to you for guidance. You would not be found wanting. Like the ancient shamans of the deep past undertook spirit or dream journeys so would you. If only to find that one answer of faith.
It happened in between breaths. One second you were breathing in yet another breath of narcotic laced air and then you were elsewhere. It was no slow gathering sensation of otherworldliness or surrealness in your body, no it was a sharp distinction. A brief surge that left your mind no time to be able to realize that something was happening. You underwent a sort of mental vertigo, and that was a weird distinction for you. The swirling sensation ceased but it was not pleasant. The act of thinking that gave you enough time to gather yourself from panicking. This was not something you could have imagined to be happening, not that many could think about such things.
You saw only darkness. The space around you was just black, there was no discernable dimensions. No walls, no ceiling, no floor. Yet you were standing on something that felt, distressingly permeable. As if it was a sort of solidified cloud or gel but one liable to begin tearing if pressed. You did not enjoy such sensations. Which brought a new problem as you realized you had no body, not as in being some sort of ghost. No you literally did not have even the sensation of limbs or see any such things as a limb. You could also see in all directions, it was similar to how you interpreted your augur array data but still different. You felt that you could move, that there was meaningful changes in position but not how such a thing occurred. It was the same for how you felt the world, you felt everything around in a rough sphere but you could focus on a direction of the xyz plain. Everything centered on an arbitrary center of the world that was you, little amber sparks that floated with your concious somehow at the center of them.
Your attempts to move can give you relative distance of how far and fast but not in actual positioning in absolute terms. You knew you moved such and such distance in this direction but no exact numbers only relative distance. You know when you had moved further then you had before or how much of a distance relative to before one move was, but not the actual distance. Nothing else seems to come to mind though you do see some strange flecks of steel floating near the amber.
You attempt to manipulate them and find yourself feeling a pain that should not truly be possible for you who was but a drifting set of sparks in the vastness of emptiness. When you come to again your find yourself in the same situation as you were before. Disembodied, unsure of your surroundings, able to sense things but not understand why you could do such things. Your attempts to manipulate what you could see failed badly. Not as badly as they could have however, that you have the prenominition is the truth.
Your attempts at experiments for comprehending everything now start to give way to questions in your mind for whether this was what death was like. If you had somehow died and this was the everafter. Those little sparks the last thing that was yourself, perhaps the soul? How is the soul constrained to such things? Floating lights surrounded by such an emptiness of velvet black. Then a thought. They say perception is reality, that one's view of things is influenced by their language and mind. Perhaps something to test.
You decide to try something with using Federation Common, the most widespread standardized language group. The majority of humans speak such in such terms. Your efforts at naming what was around you elects only slight shifts. But it is something, it is not a true void. There is something there that you can influence. Still your actual effect is little. It is hard to designate a control group or test but perhaps...
Your efforts were halted when you felt something else coalesce. You quaked for you had felt such feelings before, distressingly often. Something was watching you, and it did not feel friendly. No it wanted its pound of flesh and mostly not because it was hungry. No it wanted it because it wanted blood, to be able to spill it to cause agony and death. To crush and tear and not even leave a trace afterwards if given the chance. Just like.... This is behind you, not that it has not left its mark. You still hear the demented laughter however. That shrill voice that cackles in 'that' taken voice. Then a fearful thought, Its body was slain but was the predator behind it also slain? If you are dead from some narcotics overdose with no preparations made.....
Current Condition
Lightly Wounded(Spiritual): (1d10)/2 debuff for each roll made
[X] Find shelter
-[x] Then check your cybernetics for damage
--[x] Check if you can call help
---[x] Check what equipment you currently have
----[x] If possible try to get better grasp of your surroundings using technology and you senses
-----[x] Try to focus and meditate, maybe you are able to learn something or find a way to leave
------[x] Be ready to run at any moment
[X] Find shelter
-[x] Then check your cybernetics for damage
--[x] Check if you can call help
---[x] Check what equipment you currently have
----[x] If possible try to get better grasp of your surroundings using technology and your senses
-----[x] Try to focus and meditate, maybe you are able to learn something or find a way to leave
------[x] Be ready to run at any moment
[X] Find shelter
-[x] Then check your cybernetics for damage
--[x] Check if you can call help
---[x] Check what equipment you currently have
----[x] If possible try to get better grasp of your surroundings using technology and you senses
-----[x] Try to focus and meditate, maybe you are able to learn something or find a way to leave
------[x] Be ready to run at any moment
[X] Find shelter
-[x] Then check your cybernetics for damage
--[x] Check if you can call help
---[x] Check what equipment you currently have
----[x] If possible try to get better grasp of your surroundings using technology and you senses
-----[x] Try to focus and meditate, maybe you are able to learn something or find a way to leave
------[x] Be ready to run at any moment
[X] Find shelter
-[x] Then check your cybernetics for damage
--[x] Check if you can call help
---[x] Check what equipment you currently have
----[x] If possible try to get better grasp of your surroundings using technology and you senses
-----[x] Try to focus and meditate, maybe you are able to learn something or find a way to leave
------[x] Be ready to run at any moment
QM: Please check the new informational character sheet that will be up shortly for what you have for this encounter series.
Current Condition
Light-Moderate Wound(Spiritual): 1d10 debuff for each roll made
Favour of the G̲͉̩̤̹̕o̜̰̮̜̺̦d̬̰̜̪͝d̷̜̗e͚̮̫̗ͅss̳̻̲̬̀: +20 to all rolls
The world seemed to shake again, you flinched as you recognized the world begin to coalesce into... but it did not a part of you is thankful for. Even if most of you feels pained to the extreme for some reason. Working past it you try to observe your surroundings. The void seemed to have formed some strange dream like rearrangement of your room. A few fragments of 'that' time when Mars fell but otherwise it was your room and if logic still stood the district of the forgeworld your quarters was in. Your mind snaps into place seemingly and you realize you have a body again. You look from one thing to another in the room when you realize that you can see only the surface of things.... No spiraling net of the neurosphere, no subtle hum of the augur feeding you data...You have not had natural eyes for more than a century and those parts that you do have.... You mind feels slower, more pathetic. As if you are having a mild concussion and things are not arranging themselves as they should be, that your mind is sluggish.
Your surroundings may be that of your time on Dobara minus a few additions, your body not so much. Just like 'that' thing you heard your body is another call back to that time. A frail girl of only sixteen. You have not had biological limbs and organs since 'that' time. You did not want them, a sign of your weakness. Each piece that was removed or lost to battle soon replaced by the more durable machine, the weakness excised so that you could actually do something. You once could face the world with head held high, even if you knew you had your strengths and weaknesses. However now all of it is just gone. The loss of the purity of the machine, still your body is not like any normal baseline humans. You were the product of centuries of eugenics and gene therapies. Even your flesh is improved, yes that is right. You survived those times with only those and your wits. Now you are more veteran, more than a century of subjective life has passed and you are wiser for it. Not always but still you are no pathetic child who can only run. You have options. You can fight. Now what can you actually do?
Feeling somewhat foolish but considering the unknown logic of this realm you decide to do it anyway, you activate the distress signal and try to monitor the various comm systems for anything. The propagating signal carrying tags alerting listeners to the threat of the Iron Men Incursion. Careful for incoming scrap code you try to find if anything is out there. The answer is... disturbing. Howls of static that could be compared to the suffering calls of the damned, strange snippets of language in a million tongues of which few could possibly come from a human, strange clarion calls that shake your mind. But eventually you close in on something more relevant. It feels terrifying but not hostile to you at least, a few itinerant words even make sense to you. Vengeance, revenge, hate, all those but strangely you can tell are not meant for you. You have a feeling it is honing in on your position.
Then there is something else that comes, something that you somehow sense is following the first but is also not necessarily hostile to you. However unlike the casual disregard of the first this is one that you feel is more threatening by the sheer power in it. A sense of dignified and restrained strength that is slowly meandering in your general direction unlike the deliberate path of the first. Then a different howling cry resounds and your comms system crash resets into autistic mode, the Iron Men are here. You are now deaf to the outside.
Looking to the various security cameras you see a vague representation of the terrain around your base. By that you mean that is somewhat appears like what you knew was there in the... real world but also rather abstract. Impressions of buildings but nothing within judging by the windows, empty avenues and the skys filled with nothingness. A few things flitter through the otherwise empty space, they give the impression of the automated constructs any major ecumpolis has but they are different. You are getting mostly gibberish from the other sensors, only the visual acting with any real coherence.
However it is enough even with the interference to see 'that'. It is the thing of your old vanquished nightmares, however unlike before it is attempting to be covert as it approaches your compound. It climbs along the different protrusions that dot the landscape to take an unconventional route to your base. The distortion it generates grows stronger, the scrap code able to do more damage the closer it comes. You have an option here. Activate the outer crowd control turrets, they would usually not do much damage but you can set them to overload to do some damage for the loss of secrecy. That thing is cunning, it will know with its foul corrupted brain that further traps are inevitable. Though it may spot them regardless.
Vote
[] Activate the defenses immediately, it comes for you and you will not be found wanting
[] Do not activate the defenses immediately, it can be surprised though its very presence could destroy the controls at the critical moment.
[] Write In
Regardless of the state of your base you will not be left personally defenseless and huddled in your room. This is your room, you are the only one that knows the many staches and just in case packs that are here. First is protecting your body. You may have regressed in form but your robes are still rather modular, the right set of buckles and micro seam adjustments makes them fit you again. Their Your old augur scanner which you had replaced is still present, now a handheld model you made on a whim of nostalgia and your natural hoarding instincts. The other object of potential use is the strange sword-bayonet you received from the Taranis Knight Captain. If anything its strange aura is stronger here, as if the very air is being driven away from it. You buckle the thing just in case alongside your combat knife. Checking for other weapons yields you two... strange anomalies. You feel as if you can simply call something forth but it won't yield everything you knew you had. Still even with the esoteric rules of this strange realm you must push forward. Plunging your hand into the hazy floating mass of digital numbers you withdraw...
Pick Two
[] Your Ceremonial Omnissian Axe
[] Your Taser Goad
[] Your Arc Pistol
[] Your Arc Rifle
[] Your Volkite Pistol(Requires a roll with malus)
[] Your Volkite Rifle(requires a roll with malus)
Your mind may no longer be at its peak but you still have a mind impulse unit and cerebral implants as well, though the parameters of your body have changed you still kept the total sum data of your life in backup storage within these chambers. Purging for space all the... superfluous items of your distant youth on these implants you take up all the more important information. Security protocols for your base, anti Scrap Code countermeasures, a self defense program worth a damn, and the IFF codes for all the defenses and synthetics here. You swiftly raise the defense levels to max across the base. A diagnostic ping gets you the situation of the defenses, of those you knew were in your base only half of them are present. A battery of legal limit defense turrets, blast doors, and even a sprinkler system that 'technically' cannot be easily filled with acid. Also a few more illegal items that may be of aid. All prepared to be engaged when needed.
Your defenses engaged you check the integrity of the rest of the base. The news is not good. Your personal bodyguard units are still here and you quickly activate them, their defenses and firepower will be greatly appreciated . The barracks and armour that house the rest of your synthetic forces and new minions are gone, replaced by an indoor garden... You remem... no moving on. You find that the garage with your relatively recent acquisitions are still there, the bargain bin synthetics there reactivated and armed. The issue being that the garage was on the exterior portion of your properties and the paths to the main base are now somewhat convoluted. You very much wish to know how this all came to be, what dictates the rules of formation but that can come later. You will kill... no that is too weak. You will PURGE these daemons. Still preparations will need to be made.
As your mind blazes to try to decide what else you can do you realize something. A calling like a soft song to a specific part of the base. Why? Why do you feel this? It seems important but that goes against all logic.
Action Vote(Pick Three)
Arrange in order, first will be guaranteed and the others may occur depending on gained time and extent
[] {Difficulty: Hard} Harden your base networks, you have the countermeasures needed to fight scrap code
[] {Difficulty: Routine} Get the Atholl ready in the garage, it will provide a variety of tactical options or a potential getaway
[] {Difficulty: Difficult} Peruse the Anarchist's Cookbook, well the modern version of it sanctioned by the Mechanicus
[] {Difficulty: Ordinary} Upgrade your bodyguard units to withstand the likely scrap code barrage
[] {Difficulty: Hard} Set the base plasma reactor to be ready to go, that will likely kill such beasts
[] {Difficulty: ???} You have a feeling there may be something of use in your trophy room
[] {Difficulty: ???} Write In
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An Interruption: The Call into the Void Character Sheet
Current Condition
Light-Moderate Wound(Spiritual): 1d10 malus to all rolls
Spiritually Injured(3/8) If damage reaches 8/8 this is considered death with no attempts at return. If damage reaches 6/8 the character is considered disabled and left to the mercy of conditions. Recovery from this disabled state is left to chance.
Favour of the G̲͉̩̤̹̕o̜̰̮̜̺̦d̬̰̜̪͝d̷̜̗e͚̮̫̗ͅss̳̻̲̬̀: +20 to all rolls
Equipment:
Model B Arc Rifle
Omnissian Power Ax
???(White Metal Dagger)
2x Makeshift Grenades
Some of these traits will not have listed effects due to complexity/interactions with each other. Some that do have listed effects may have more that are unlisted or will be invalidated due to interactions.
Positive Traits
Trained on Mars - being trained on Mars gave you more learning opportunities , better training and education
+10 to Fellowship and Intelligence checks with Martian trained personnel and produced equipment
Mechanicum Prodigy - you are one of the most talented people in the Mechanicum Lodgum .
+10 to Influence checks with Martian trained personnel and produced equipment
Practical Person - you're practical . That's it .
Pragmatic Person
Analytics - you must know how something work and what it can do .
+10 to Tech Use and Perception checks for learning
Hard Working - will always bring profits .
Wide Business/Social Network
+5 bonus to Fellowship/Influence checks with members or affiliates, negates most minor negatives when interacting with network related work. Stacks with Mechanicum Prodigy but not Trained on Mars.
+5 bonus to Influence checks within any Acadameian Enclaves. Stacks with above but not Mechanicum Prodigy.
Expanded Business/Social Network
Current: +2 to Influence
Field of Specialty: Applied Energetics
+10 to rolls involving energy weapons, power sources,etc
Survivor
+10 to Tech Use when creating or maintaining makeshift components
+10 to Agility and Perception rolls when hunted
Haunted by Revelations:???
Negative Traits
Laconic - speaks only when you must .
-5 to basic Fellowship checks
Kleptomaniac - MINE ! MINE ! MINE !
Religious - For the Omnisaiah !
-5 to Fellowship checks with non-Martian Orthodox Mechanicum members
Curiosity - "Killed a cat".
Anti social - no friends and no life outside job .
Life=Work - you sacrifice all your time for work and studying nothing else .
-5 to basic Fellowship checks with non Mechanicum members
Cybernetics
Bionic Arms: +10 to agility checks for delicate manipulation
Bionic Legs: +20 to agility for jump/leap checks
Autosanguine: For healing purposes is considered lightly damaged and regain double the natural rate
Calculus Logi: +5 bonus to Literacy, Logic, and Scholastic Lore tests
Cerebral Implants: Unnatural Intelligence(1) trait and +10 to Logic and Lore tests, removes need for dedicated sleep. Can take -20 to all traits to continue working.
Unnatural Intelligence: +1 to intelligence and +1 to degrees of success on rolls
Self Defense Protocols: +10 bonus to any attack if natural base stat is below 20, max to 30 total
Black Ice Defense: +20 bonus to defense against mental intrusions
General Genetic/Cybernetic Enhancement: Machine(1), Unnatural Strength(1), Unnatural Vitality(1), Mechanicum Implants
Machine: Armour +1, immune extremes of cold
Unnatural: +1 strength and vitality, +1 degree of success to each of these characteristic rolls
General Enhancement: +5 to physical and mental characteristics
Homeostasis Regulator: Removes need to manually maintain body(ie: eat, remove waste, etc) +20 to Vitality checks against enemy effects on the body
Interface Port: +10 bonus to common lore, inquiry, or tech-use while connected
Internal Reservoir: Remove fatigue penalty from Luminen Capacitor use
Luminen Capacitor: Can recharge items with +10 to Vitality test, can be used offensively
Optical: +10 to sight based Perception tests, contains flashlight and optical sensor suite
Utility: +10 to all tech use tests, +10 bonus to smell based Perception, can create smoke clouds or be used to attack
Memorance Implant: Records events, +10 to checks involving recorded data use
Mind Impulse Unit: +10 bonus to machine spirit interaction, tech-use, operate, logic, inquiry, and ballistic skill tests for interfaced units
Current Goals for this Realm
Loot anything usable here in the realm
Consult the tome you have for what secrets it contains
Learn more about what this realm is
Equipment
Weapons Arc Rifle Model B
Arc Pistol Model B
Name
License
Type
Range
Fire Mode
Damage
Pen
Clip/Mag
Reload
Properties
Arc Pistol
Level 2
Pistol-Shock
30m
S/
2d10+6 E
3
20
2 Full
Shocking, Haywire, Reliable
Arc Rifle
Level 2
Basic-Shock
100m
S/4
2d10+4 E
3
16
2 Full
Shocking, Haywire, Reliable
Armour Ceremonial Robes
Name
License
Protection
Max Agi
Ceremonial Robes
grade 2
2 All
35
Ceremonial Weapons Omnissian Axe
Name
License
Type
Range
Damage
Pen
Properties
Omnissian Axe
Level 3
Melee-Power
10m
2d10+4 E
6
Power Field, Unbalanced
White Metal(???) Sword-Bayonet(Dagger)
Taser Goad
Name
License
Type
Range
Damage
Pen
Properties
Taser Goad
Level 2
melee-shock
5m
1d10+1 E
2
shocking
Significant Items
Cleansed Man of Iron Remains
- Scattered Body Parts
-Iron Man Cortex(Active)
Basic Materials Cache
Crew: Eight
(Driver, Gunner, Assistant Crew Member, Vehicle Commander)
(C3 Suite Operator, Assistant Operator, Commanding Officer)
Max Transport Capacity: 6 Heavy Power Armoured Troops or a short platoon of soldiers
[X] Activate the defenses immediately, it comes for you and you will not be found wanting
[X] Your Ceremonial Omnissian Axe
[X] Your Arc Rifle
[X] {Difficulty: Hard} Harden your base networks, you have the countermeasures needed to fight scrap code
[X] {Difficulty: Ordinary} Upgrade your bodyguard units to withstand the likely scrap code barrage
[X] {Difficulty: ???} You have a feeling there may be something of use in your trophy room
[X] Activate the defenses immediately, it comes for you and you will not be found wanting
[X] Your Ceremonial Omnissian Axe
[X] Your Arc Rifle
[X] {Difficulty: Hard} Harden your base networks, you have the countermeasures needed to fight scrap code
[X] {Difficulty: Ordinary} Upgrade your bodyguard units to withstand the likely scrap code barrage
[X] {Difficulty: ???} You have a feeling there may be something of use in your trophy room
