Character Sheet
][ Inquisitor Joanyn Praxis ][
Imperial Inquisitor, Ordo Hereticus

Attributes
Physical Attributes
Strength - 1
Agility - 2
Melee - 1
Endurance: 4

Mental Attributes
Intelligence - 3
Tactics - 2
Nerve - 1
Fortitude: 6

Social Attributes
Charm - 4
Presence - 3
Contacts - 3
Resolve: 10

Faith Attributes
Belief - 2
Scripture - 0
Fire - 1
Conviction: 3
(3) - The Imperium should be an alliance of solidarity for the weak, not an alliance of strength for the strong.
(2) - People are more than problems, weaknesses, corruption vectors to eradicate. Their feelings and dreams matter.
(1) - A Shot Fired is a Shot Wasted

<1> - Victory makes me feel alive.
Strength is raw physical conditioning. Lifting stuff, swimming, running a long time, punching hard. It's added to many melee attack damage as well.

Agility is swiftness, reaction speed, and immediate awareness. It's used for dodging things, jumping, ducking, outrunning folks, and other twitchy reactions.

Melee is the general skill of up close combat with knives, swords, fists (power or otherwise), chainsaws, whatever else.

Intelligence is raw intellectual power, knowledge, and drive to learn and study stuff. It is also used for military logistics.

Tactics is your knowledge of battle tactics, from the strategy of leading armies to simply knowing when it is safe to rush across a hallway in a gunfight.

Nerve is the stat both for shooting firearms and for keeping your cool. Nerve checks are common in combat to prevent from panicking or fight through pain.

Charm is the social stat used for flattery, smoothtalking, lying, seduction, verbal sparring, deflection, and navigating high culture.

Presence is the social stat used for reasoning, explaining, teaching, intimidating, impressing, or public address.

Contacts is rolled to know people you need to know, and to have a good reputation with them.

Belief is your actual faith in... whatever you have faith in. The Emperor, hopefully. It is used to resist temptation and corruption.

Scripture is your knowledge of the intellectual side of your religious faith. If you can quote from the holy books and theologians. It's intelligence for matters of faith.

Fire is your ability to project your faith out and convince others of it. Want to convert somebody or whip a crowd into a fanatical fury? This stat.
Weapon: Laspistol
Weapon: Hellpistol
Trade: Manager
Trade: Spy
Trade: Political Operator
Talent: Verbal Sparring
Talent: Seduction
Talent: Dishonesty
Talent: Intimidation
Talent: Exfiltration
Talent: Logistics
Talent: Propaganda
Talent: Indirect Persuasion
People: Dahlia
People: The Corrupted
People: High Imperial Politicians
Knowledge: Imperial Political Theory
Social Loadout
1 Compact Laspistol, 1 Laspistol Reload, Flash-Safe Glasses, 6 Concealed monoknives, 1 Show Knife, 1 Belt Buckle Gun, 1 Plastex Bodyglove/Flakweave Suit, Displacer Field

Combat Options
+1 Hellpistol, +1 Transonic Machete

Compact Laspistol
Small Handgun
Attack Dice: 1/d10 -or- 2/d10-1
Aim Bonus: +1
Damage Bonus: +2
Armour Reduction: 0
Magazine Size: 4
Special
Laser: Does not cause bleeding.
Blinding: If operated without flash protection, witnessing the impact of a las-weapon will blind for 3 rounds.

Concealed Monoknife
Small Knife
Attack Dice : 1/d10
Damage Bonus : Agility + 1
Armour Penetration : 2
Parry Bonus : -1
Disarm Bonus : +0

Show Knife
Medium Knife
Attack Dice : 1/d10+1
Damage Bonus : Agility + 1
Armour Penetration : 0
Parry Bonus : +0
Disarm Bonus : +0

Buckle Gun
Tiny Handgun
Attack Dice: 2/d10-2
Aim Bonus: +0
Damage Bonus: -2
Armour Reduction: 0
Magazine Size: 1
Special
Hidden: Will always escape searches.

Plastex Bodyglove/Flakweave Suit
Clothing
Armour Value : 3
Coverage : All but Head and Eyes
Resistances : Impact, Blunt

Displacer Field
Energy Screen
When hit with an attack, roll 1d10.
1: Displaced into worse danger.
2: Displacer field fails. Take the hit.
3-6: Displaced hard. Take 1 Sore from bumping into something.
7-9: Displaced. Attack avoided.
10: Nothing personal, kid.

Hellpistol (Voss Pattern)
Medium Handgun/Carbine
Attack Dice: 1/d10 -or- 2/d10-1 (One-Handed)
Aim Bonus: +1
Damage Bonus: +3
Armour Reduction: 2
Magazine Size: 12
Special
Laser: Does not cause bleeding.
Blinding: If operated without flash protection, witnessing the impact of a las-weapon will blind for 3 rounds.
Convertible: When converted to Carbine mode, gain +1 to Attack and Aim Bonus.

Transonic Machete
Medium Knife
Attack Dice : 1/d10+2
Damage Bonus : Strength + 3
Armour Penetration : 1 + Half of enemy Armour (Round Down)
Parry Bonus : +0
Disarm Bonus : +3
Special
Sickening Vibrations: Enemies with 3 meters of an active blade count as being at -1 to all stats.
Sister Charitina
A member of the Order Famulous who found her faith again thanks to the Inquisitor. Praxis' closest confidant, dearest friend, and irritating ex-girlfriend.
Attributes of Note: Nerve 3, Contacts 4, Charm 3, Scripture 2, Fire 2
Skills of Note: Career - Order Famulous, Weapon - Bolt Carbine, People - Inquisitor Praxis
Equipment: Half-Plate Power Armour, Bolt Carbine, Burning Blade
Known Values: (3) The nobility is a blight on the Imperium, (2) I trust the Inquisitor's vision for the future, (1) Galaxy grim and dark, tiddy soft and warm.

Dahlia Hussian
A 17 year old unsanctioned psyker, rescued by Praxis from the witch's pyre she volunteered for at age 12. Loves the Emperor, and hates herself for being unworthy and twisted.
Attributes of Note: Power 1, Control 2, Sight 2, Faith 5, Strength -1, Nerve 0
Skills of Note: Talent - Self Discipline, Talent - Self-Hatred
Equipment: Web Derringer
Known Values: [3] I am here because I was given a chance. I should extend the same chance to others, [2] The Emperor is all things, [1] I can atone for my existence by aiding the Inquisitor

Marvel Ann Alemanga-Zero
A Magos of the biology wing of the Adeptus Mechanicus, Marvel Ann is an exuberant, odd, and enthusiastic cyborg lady who is an expert in medicine and bionics. She's Joanyn's current sweetheart, and she autotunes her voice.
Attributes of Note: Intelligence 4, Charm 3, Strength 4
Skills of Note: Career - Cyberdoc, Talent - Surgery, Talent - Singing
Known Values: [2] Adventure is to be seized with both hands (and as many mechandrites as possible)

Fraser Bookter
A positively ancient scribe who served Praxis' teacher, Bookter has seen all manner of things. Despite that, he keeps good humour.
Attributes of Note: Intelligence 4, Scripture 2, Contacts 2, Strength -2
Skills of Note: Career - Archivist, Knowledge - Imperial History
Known Values: ???

Korey Kilimnik
Once a Lightning fighter pilot for the Navy, until he was caught fucking an admiral's son. Kilimnik professionally doesn't care unless it has jet engines.
Attributes of Note: Nerve 5, Agility 3
Skills of Note: Career - Fighter Pilot, Talent - Piloting, Talent - Causing Trouble
Known Values: [2] By death or rejuvenation, age will never slow my reflexes
Penalties

≡][≡​
Sore​
Strain​
Stress​
Stain​
≡][≡​
◹☠◸​
0/4​
0/6​
0/10​
0/3​
◹☠◸​
◹⛉◸​
3 XP​
XP3​
33 XP​
9 XP​
◹⛉◸​
CURRENT RP
6

RULES SUMMARY
ROLZ ROOM
 
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[X] Keep up the current programs. (There's a +1 Success, and a fate roll is made to see how things go, with a slim chance of another +1)
[X] Convince him to stay back.
[X] Convince him to cool down for a bit (+1 Stress)
[X] Separate them.

---

It is done.

When the roll comes, you will need 4 Successes on an Impossible check. You will be rolling Presence, with +1 for Imperial Political Theory and +1 for getting the Puritan to cool down.

RP Earned
- Forging an alliance of Inquisitors to face the Lord High Admiral: 3RP
- Keeping the quarantine measures in place when politically inconvenient: 2RP
- Temptation: -1 RP

RP has been spent to clear penalties, and the rest converted to Social XP, as you'll need it. You can buy yourself final upgrades before the argument. The rules summary will tell you how.

[ ] Write In

Finally... who do you spend these last 48 hours with?
[ ] Charitina, for guidance and faith.
[ ] Marvel-Ann, for comfort.
[ ] Dahlia, to keep her steady.
[ ] Bookter, for his wise counsel.
[ ] Araleth, for old time's sake.
[ ] You seclude yourself in prayer.

There is nothing more to be done. The fate of the universe will rest, as it ever does, on the roll of the dice. Repent now.

The end is nigh.

Is there any particularly relevant Trade? Or is this too specific for a Trade to matter?
 
Is there any particularly relevant Trade? Or is this too specific for a Trade to matter?
Perhaps not unsurprisingly, Praxis doesn't have a lot of skills for speaking to superiors, given that she only has thirteen of them in the entire Imperium.

It's just
she's about to talk to one of them.
 
[X] People: Lord High Admirals

Or... something? We need an advantage, but 33 XP is 7 XP short of being able to raise the necessary stat from 3 to 4, unfortunately... :(

Also not sure how many RP we have.
 
But yeah, we should try, if possible, to find a relevant Trade and People, because we can't afford the improvement to get the 3 to 4 for Presence. Even just a relevant People would be helpful tbh.
 
I'm guessing that People: Imperial Navy should be pretty applicable here, considering. Maybe People: Politicians could work instead? The latter would be more likely to be applicable in future, but, well. This is the last event in the quest, so.

As for Trade... hmm. Could we take Trade: Political Operator? She certainly does a lot of it.

That leaves Talent. Would Talent: Persuasion be valid? Or is that too broad?

How do these look, Sketch? We should be able to afford all three, at least (I'm treating People: Imperial Navy and People: Politicians as mutually exclusive purchases, just because we only need one) - 3 skills is 8xp/1rp * 3, so 24xp/3rp. Well within our budget.
 
I'm guessing that People: Imperial Navy should be pretty applicable here, considering. Maybe People: Politicians could work instead? The latter would be more likely to be applicable in future, but, well. This is the last event in the quest, so.

As for Trade... hmm. Could we take Trade: Political Operator? She certainly does a lot of it.

That leaves Talent. Would Talent: Persuasion be valid? Or is that too broad?

How do these look, Sketch? We should be able to afford all three, at least (I'm treating People: Imperial Navy and People: Politicians as mutually exclusive purchases, just because we only need one) - 3 skills is 8xp/1rp * 3, so 24xp/3rp. Well within our budget.
Let's narrow it to People: High Imperial Politicians and Talent: Indirect Persuasion. The other are good.

(A thing i'm realizing now is that what I ought to do is rank skills by how specific they are, so if you have People: Imperial Navy it might be worth a +1, while People: Imperial Navy Command Staff might be +2 and People: Imperial Navy Members Aboard The HDMS Divine Imposition would be +3. Oh well, next quest!)

I'll note finally that while this quest is ending, you never know if this is the last we'll see of Joanyn Praxis...
 
Awesome! I'm so excited to see the conclusion.

Also, we have got to spend our last hours with the best tech priest

[X] Marvel-Ann, for comfort.
 
[X] Charitina, for guidance and faith.
[X] Marvel-Ann, for comfort.
[X] Dahlia, to keep her steady.
Dahlia deserves this time with her three moms
 
Praying to the Emperor right now.

[X] Charitina, for guidance and faith.
[X] Marvel-Ann, for comfort.
[X] Dahlia, to keep her steady.
 
Let's narrow it to People: High Imperial Politicians and Talent: Indirect Persuasion. The other are good.
Dope.
I'll note finally that while this quest is ending, you never know if this is the last we'll see of Joanyn Praxis...
Aaaaaaaa! Very hype.
Oof this is a tough one. I like Laurent's prroposal so far.
Ahem.
Dahlia deserves this time with her three moms
Unfortunately, I think we only get one of these. Otherwise I'd be very much in agreement.

[X] Talent: Indirect Persuasion
[X] Trade: Political Operator
[X] People: High Imperial Politicians

[X] Dahlia, to keep her steady.

Our kid needs her mom. And we need her, too.
 
Ok, persuaded.

[X] Talent: Indirect Persuasion
[X] Trade: Political Operator
[X] People: High Imperial Politicians

[X] Dahlia, to keep her steady.
 
9-1: Strings
48 hours went by very, very quickly.

You made what final preparations you could. You talked with the administrators about the plague, finally getting to see Azrael face to face for the first time in fifty years, since he left his service as an acolyte. The ongoing crackdown on smugglers was going well, perhaps a bit too well, and you managed to slow things for a while.

You also made the heart-wrenching decision to forbid Dahlia from seeing Lionus again, though Charitina volunteered to break the news to her. You hated to do it, she needed a friend her age so very badly, but the situation was incredibly delicate and the last thing you needed was to get accused of corrupting the High Lord Admiral's son. Dahlia locked herself away in her room and would not respond, and you left her.

You studied the Lord Admiral, interviewed his wife, prayed for guidance and deliverance. You had a tailor brought in to ensure all your clothes would be ready, that you would be as presentable as you possibly could, the best representation of your office you could be. You spent a half-hour polishing your seal to a fine sheen.

You went over all the details again with Araleth, ensured you could remember every part of it. You poured over the messages on the communication device, memorising it in case anything went wrong. You found a place to hide it, in case you were searched before meeting the Lord High Admiral, in case you needed it for evidence.

You spent two long nights with Marvel Ann, held in her iron grip, safe for a moment in her arms. You did your very best to convince her that she was beautiful, and she did her very best to give you some precious time without the burden of power over anything, even your own limbs. It was wonderful, almost enough to distract you.

You gave Tina instructions for what to do when you went to your meeting. How she was to take everyone and quietly evacuate, to make for the trains, the way paved with bribe money and Inquisitorial orders to get to another city and another ship and away in case things went wrong. You would not have them suffer for your mistakes.

Bookter refused, his head held high, the wrinkles on his ancient face pulled by his smile, and he said he would be by your side the way he had for two other Inquisitors, to the very end. You knew not to argue.

---

In the morning of the High Lord Admiral's arrival, in the hour before you were to leave, you knocked gently on Dahlia's door, and it opened instantly. She was standing there, clearly having felt or heard or anticipated your approach. She looked rough, dressed only in her long, oversized shirt, her eyes raw.

"Hello, Lady Inquisitor," she said weakly.

"Can we talk?" you asked and she nodded and lead you inside. You sat on the bed next to her, awkwardly, and after a moment she leaned against your arm. She'd never been that familiar before, not unless she was really hurting.

"I'm so sorry about… about Lionus," you said. You knew what would happen next; she would say it was okay, she was going to apologise for ever thinking she could dare to try and grasp even a little happiness, she'd repent and scourge herself a thousand times for inconveniencing the Lady Inquisitor and-

"It hurts," she said simply. "I know it's stupid because I am young and I only knew him for a few days and young love doesn't mean anything but I'm young and stupid and it hurts."

Oh.

"Yeah. I know it does," you agreed. "It's awful."

"I know why you had to and it makes sense and it's not fair," she concluded.

You nodded, internally… astonished. She'd never articulated this sort of thing before.

"I'm almost eighteen and I have a gun, I need to stop being twelve," she said seriously. "Though that's not how it works. You were right, everyone is just children putting on their costumes and brave faces and going out to face the world."

"Um, yeah," you agreed, not sure exactly when you'd told her something like that. Though you very much felt like you were fifteen again, putting on your finest clothes and nicest voice to try and ask your mother for something. "That's how it is."

"You don't want to," she pointed out. You shrugged.

"It's complicated," you admitted. "Doing the right thing often is. I want to go and convince him, I want to win, but-"

"No, you need to do that. What you want to do was wear something comfortable, what you usually wear when there isn't field work to do. You want to hand your Rosette to somebody else, or bury it in a cellar, and they just have a life, once you find one worth living. But you need to put on your costume and face the world," she said conclusively. You sighed, slowly, painfully almost.

"Yeah," you admitted, and she nodded.

"Don't worry, I understand. Can I help?" You shrugged, and she looked very serious. "I could tell you about him. I know him really well."

You didn't ask how you knew. She knew his son, and his mother, and had spent time in his home. You knew she could pick up a lot from that.

"Tell me, then," you said.

"He… he's a man who confuses love and possession. He's a man who cares about power above all, his own power, and everything that grants him power. And he's a man who thinks his power is beyond reproach."

You knew all that, or could guess.

"He's a man who thinks he can see the future," she added. You looked at her, astonished. "I… I don't mean to say he's a psyker, but rather, he thinks he knows exactly what the future will be like, and will take decisions to make it happen.

"Well, I'm jealous," you confessed. "I could use another prophecy, I think. Let me know if I succeed or not tomorrow, take some of the pressure off. But we aren't the sort who can see the future."

She looked at you oddly, tilting her head, letting her long black hair hang like a curtain.

"Of course you can see the future, Lady Inquisitor. So can he, and so can I," she said, sounding astonished. "Everyone can."

You hadn't a clue what she was talking about, but usually when she went on strange tangents like this it was surprisingly fruitful.

"What do you mean?" you probed.

"Seeing the future is just seeing possible futures, and steering toward them. Everyone can do it, see strings and try to pluck at them, but some of us see more strings, and some are better at playing, that's all. What do you see, when you think of the future?"

"I don't know. I don't think about it," you confessed. The here and now, that's what mattered.

"Try, then. Close your eyes, and try to see the future."

It seemed like a childish game, but you went along. Might be the last moments you have with her, after all, you should indulge her if nothing else. You closed your eyes, steadied your breathing, and tried to imagine what the future would hold. What tomorrow, next year, next century, next Millennium, would be like. The 42nd Millenium.

Once again, you could see a factory, manned by the dead, building the dead, arming the dead, and then crushing them into powder. A great and terrible and useless and worthless and evil machine, and you in a small corner of it, greasing the wheels so they turned a little easier, to spare the worker's hands.

Death would be a mercy, a concession to life.

You opened your eyes.

"I… I think I can see it," you said simply. "It's always going to be like this. Just worse and worse until there's nothing left, until the last ember burns out. That's it. This is our future, and it goes on until the End. All I can do is… prolong it."

Dahlia smiled sadly.

"That's the string everyone sees," she said simply. "So it's the one they pluck, and it's the future that comes to pass. But you know it's not the only string."

It wasn't.

"I… see another, sometimes, but-" You paused. "It's not a future, it's a fantasy. Indulgence." Yourself on the Throne, the Galaxy bowing, the power to finally make it right.

"I know." Dahlia whispered. "That's a string that, if you pull too hard on, you'll unravel. But before that…"

… No child went hungry. No worker ached. No mother worried.

"That's a fantasy too, Dahlia. It's not a future we can have," you chided. She shook her head, patting you on the hand, like you were the child and she was the wise mother-superior guiding the sinner.

"But it's a string we can pull," she said. "A string we've forgotten about, but it's still there. It'll always be there, until the End, waiting for us."

"So what future does the High Lord Admiral see?" you asked finally.

"He sees the 41st Millenium. Untold billions, living in the cruellest and most bloody regime imaginable. His future has forgotten the power of technology and science, the promise of progress and understanding. His is a grim, dark future where there is only war. There can be no peace among his stars, only an eternity of carnage and slaughter, and the laughter of thirsting gods."

But then, she smiled.

"But who cares? That future may be what's written, but it does not have to be ours. Show him another string, and let him play."

---

You pulled your clothes out of the closet and started the long, long process of getting dressed. You'd gotten it down to about twenty minutes, providing getting into the plastex black bodyglove went smoothly. Nothing like having to find an alternate outfit for the day because you put on or lost three pounds.

No, it was all the belts that were the real killer. The belts took a while. The hair didn't help, you had to get it just right, skull-tipped pins in the exact position. Makeup too, that was important.

And the boots. Emperor be merciful, the boots. It was a good idea, because it brought you into the realm of more respectable heights in high society without painful bone extension surgery (which you'd probably do eventually, but only once you found a doctor you could trust not to butcher you in the process. You'd seen the scars it could leave, and the six month recovery time was not practical in your line of work, but you often felt very small without it). You slipped into them, pulled them shut, then activated the auto-balancing gyroscope. Though with the technological aid you could still run and fight, they weren't practical by any means.

A short asymmetrical cape, lined with fur on one side and fixed with a silver skull, covered your torso from right shoulder to left collarbone. Under it went your holster for your laspistol, empty though, as you did not go to see a High Lord armed. You took every knife out from their hiding places, laying them out on the table in row after row. You even took off your belt buckle gun, that sentimental piece that fired tiny rounds from equally tiny barrels and likely couldn't kill a grot, but was still too much a risk.

Finally, your glasses. Not your practical everyday frames, which went into an armoured case on your hip, but the small round ones, mirrored yellow lenses that glowed slightly from the heads up display.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, feeling very, very small. A child, wearing a costume.

You took a car to the central elevators, then up, up, to the top of the spire where the highest offices and palaces lay, and there were guided by a wall of gilded Navy soldiers down long, marbled halls. They moved at such a pace that you could hardly keep up. The windows outside showed a mustard-yellow sky, a world long-dead from the city-sickness humans had brought with them, a chemical-choked corpse that billions clung to.

Then, finally, you stood before two enormous doors, made from enormous planks of a fine wood which could not have grown on this world in the last six thousand years. Slowly, they opened, and you stepped inside to make your case.

To show him another string, and hope he would play.

---
Impossible Presence check, requiring 4 Successes. You will be rolling at +8.
The Emperor Protects.
 
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