The issue with being a homeless gang?
It was a hell of a lot of people. Nearly a hundred, two hundred gangers in Orbtz green and whites, their weapons in hands, hurried from their defensive positions and spread throughout the habitats, using mag-trains and warren tunnels to hide low. The advantage they had, though, was the Orbtz had always had a finger or two in the most...well liked professions on Thedias: Prostitution and Bootlegging. They made the best hootch, and knew the prettiest girls and the prettiest boys. More than a few tired, beaten down Orbtz fireteams found a place to hide as bouncers, or as guarding large stills that the Orbtz still technically ran, even if their main territory was locked down...
But Krull was a canny fellow, even if he looked as big as an ogyrn. A quicksilver brain worked in that head - and he knew, for a fact, that it was only a matter of time until his men and women were hunted down by the Skavtz or the enforcers of the dome security. He had to find a place for them.
Which is why, when the very pregnant woman entered into the room he had been in with his second, and said: "I have a proposition, Krull..." He didn't immediately throw her out.
"Who are you?" His second asked, voice buzzing in his grilled jaw.
"I'm Ophelia," the woman said, and Krull frowned.
"You're in the work gangs for section 2 and 3, one of the bigwigs, right?" he asked, frowning. "Your shifts don't pay anyone tithes - you stick too tight together. Makes me wonder...which gang do you actually run with?"
Ophelia chuckled. She walked over, winced, then blinked as Krull kicked out a chair at his table - taking advantage of his very, very long leg. The chair skidded to a stop, and she put her hand on the back, then settled. She sighed, quietly. "You're half right," she said, her voice soft. "We do stick tight together. But we don't do it because we're loyal to a gang."
Krull arched an eyebrow.
"We do it because we're loyal to an
idea," Ophelia said. "An ideal."
"Oh futter me, you're a load of throne lickers," Krull said. "The Emperor hasn't done me any fucking favors down here, pardon the language."
Ophelia snorted. "Do I
look like a woman who cares what a corpse thinks?"
Krull and his second sat very still. Krull's hand was still on the table. Ophelia sensed it immediately - a misstep. Krull leaned in close. His voice was soft. "We a man around here, three cycles back, talking that kind of way. Enforcers find that kind of man, they drop entire rocks on habitats. We're gangers. Not
stupid."
Ophelia leaned in. Her voice was soft. "We've airlocked our own share of folks like that. They might see that the Emperor is a false god - that doesn't mean
their gods are real either." She reached out with her hand, clenching it into a fist. "This is real. Flesh. Bone. Blood. The effort of your fellow humans - down here, in the pits." She nodded, her eyes flaring with the red hot passion she had had, ever since she had first been given the Kiss. "Your gang worked better together, as a whole, with one goal, one dream in mind. But does that goal have to be twenty percent of some brothels, a few bootleggers?"
"What kind of dream do you got, lumpen?" Krull asked.
"The stars," Ophelia said. "Freedom. Equality."
Krull frowned. "You're insane."
"Am I?" Ophelia asked. "Maybe. But also, I'm the only hope you have. We have some habitats, out in the wastelands, and some territory above the cloud layers. Places your people can go, if they don't mind some cramped positions. In exchange for your protection and your eyes, we provide places to stay, and a purpose. Something more than
grubbing."
"This is insane," Krull said.
"It is," Ophelia said, laughing softly. "It is madness to hope for change in the Imperium. But would you rather die mad and free, or live as a slave, in Hell?"
Krull tapped his fingers.
"Boss," his second said.
The door opened and a tough looking girl whose face had been dyed half green leaned in. She stepped over, whispering in Krull's ear.
"Enforcers just busted Meg's," Krull said. He frowned. "Fuck. If I'm falling, might as well try flapping my wings."
Ophelia smiled at him.
Excellent work. We'll arrange a proper introduction when they arrive, her Magus' voice spoke in her mind, the astral tingle of her telepathic touch shivering along Ophelia's cheek.
"I wish I could be there to see it..." Ophelia whispered.
***
Barik was reconsidering a lot of decisions he made in his life. Normally so utterly and completely disaffected by discomfort and his physical body that he scoffed at long work hours, sneered at danger, and didn't like looking at himself in the mirror, the idea of tailing a few people for a few thrones had seemed entirely unobjectionable. But after his work shift had turned up missing, save for Larent who had been drilled in the face by a lasbolt at close range, with a note pinned to his chest:
Reconsider your Career Options. The letter had been read to Barik by someone who knew their letters, and Barik had gone to the scary man to tell him.
The scary man had then produced the stick: A letter, which he proclaimed, would have Barik shifted from puddling to deep-core mining.
And so, Barik had gone back to following the people he'd been told to follow. And when they stole into a warehouse, and started to load into one of the ashcans. They scrambled in, closed the door, and Barik knew that if they headed into the canyons, then he'd never trace them again. Someone who did not hate himself and life as much as Barik did might have slowed down. Instead, he rushed forward, scrambled under the ashcan as it started to rumble and roar, its huge, armored wheels creaking. He looped a belt around a flange beneath the heavy belly of the device, cinched himself up, hooked his legs under, then swung himself as hard against the belly of the vehicle. Then he closed his eyes and hoped against hope that his filter-breather would keep him safe.
He would, after all, not be in
direct winds.
The doors opened and the heat and buzzing, hissing winds of the valleys started to drip down. The 'peller fields that kept the canyons drivable hummed overhead, but what got through was still enough to soak him in sweat, then dry the sweat off his body. His eyes closed and he tried to not think of his body, nor the time.
The ashcan rumbled at its top speed for what felt like an eternity. A few droplets of hissing acid almost touched his skin, one buzzed along the bottom of his boot. His arms ached. And when the 'peller fields that were mounted on the canyon walls grew dimmer and less maintained by the cogs, the heat and pressure grew fiercer. His ears popped and his body ached with the deep agonies. And through it all, he closed his eyes and prayed to the God-Emperor that this torment might end his. But no. No luck. The ashcan came to somewhere closed and metal, and hissing air rushed in, blessedly cool. He tugged off the filter - which had been filling his brain with the screaming agony of carboach.
He breathed in and felt his body slowly come back to him - aches and pains fading, his hands flexing as blood rushed back into them. A pity.
He waited until the people in the ashcan emerged. They were gangers by their conversation. "I hope we're not too late, Boss Krull said this place was amazing. Like paradise."
Barik frowned and waited more. once he was absolutely sure that the warehouse was empty, he let himself drop fully to the ground. He rolled out from under the ashcan, brushing dust and bits of grim off his gloves. He took his breather helmet fully off, blinking his watery blue eyes, then looked slowly around. This wasn't a drophab - it lacked the labyrinthine size of it. No, this was a place that had been built after, in the thousands of years that Thedias had been settled and mined and
worked. The walls were thick plasteel, and there was a strange symbol done in bass relief: A set of three stars arranged around one another in a triangular pattern, with a fist in the center of it. Beneath it were three words in a variation on high gothic:
Liberte, Fraterneti, Astralitae.
Barik rolled his shoulder, then moved towards the doors that the gangers had entered into. He opened the seal and saw that they were being approached by men in white robes, who took their hands, smiling and nodding. "DOn't worry," one said, his voice soft. "You're safe here."
Barik knew, then, that this was the place. Some might have investigated farther, but Barik was being paid and threatened to do just one thing:
Find anything suspicious. Well, either these were throne lickers and the scary gents wouldn't bother them other than roughing a few priests up, or they were something very, very, very bad and he'd be given...well, a kick in the ass and a throne gelt, if he was fucking lucky. A shot in the head if he was very, very lucky.
Getting back...
He considered going for the ashcan and simply driving home. But the canyons weren't exactly places you could hide - nor did he know which turns and switchbacks they had taken. But maybe...he turned and headed to the ashcan. He opened the door with a grunt, the hinges squealing, the acid pitting on the hull looking to have scored a few extra deep gouges and furrows in. Looking within, he saw that the ashcan was one of the
nice ashcans. The kind midshift people used, puddlers like him if they got really lucky. THe kind...with a vox. The vox-net of Thedias was spotty at best, but a vox in an ashcan meant breaking down in the canyons wasn't certain death. It meant you could listen to hymns, or those radio dramas about the Small Lord.
He picked up the vox controller. Dialed in.
"Hey," he said. "This is K-2. Found something, track this signal. Repeat. This is K-2, track this-"
"You there!"
Barik jerked his head up.
The man standing across from him was not wearing a white robe. He was also not human. His brows were ridged with elegant purple chitin, his eyes were pure black. He had claws on his fingers, and they were gripping a sleek lasgun, which looked like it was enforcer made. He frowned and Barik sighed, then lifted his palms. "You caught me," he said.
"Yeah. I did." The man prodded him forward. "Walk."
Barik walked, grimly. He was marched towards a doorway - and the hatch swung inwards. And he stepped from one world and into another. From Hell...to Heaven. The room was large and pale white, bright gold, and warm purples. Sheets hung here and there, providing gauzy haze between his eyes and bodies. Naked bodies. A woman sighed softly near him, and the soft sounds of giggles, laughter and moans reached his ears. Two burly looking men in Orbitz colors - their clothing discarded by equally pretty looking boys who...were...
wrong somehow - walked by. Barik gaped, and saw that both of the men had...four arms. Their pale skin glistened as if they had been oiled, and their hands stroked the ganger's backs.
The man behind him prodded his lasgun into his back. "C'mon, the Magus is not gonna be happy, but she needs to know."
They were approaching the center of the room. Of the
orgy. An orgy that would not be glanced at in the clouds, but down here? This was where people worked and suffered. Where poverty drained the joy out of everything. There was no sign of fine wine, fine drinks, fine food - in fact, Barik saw two women enjoying a ration bar together. The food was mundane and simple. But the women, their bodies pocked by scars and radburns, one of them with a face that had been half melted, the other with an augmetic hand, so clearly enjoyed their repast, as if it were a banquet fit for the Lords of Terra itself. He watched as the augmetic fingers of the other pushed a quarter of a ration-bar into the other's lips. She chewed, laughed, caressed her lover.
They make it a banquet, Barik thought, dazedly, as they came to a large cushion.
There...was a noblewoman. No one else could be so beautiful, so perfect. Her long blond tresses spilled down over her full breasts, just barely concealing her nipples. Her hands caressed the knees of the man she was reclining atop, and the joining...where body met body, Barik could see that the man she was riding had
ridges. Purple knobs that-
"Ahh, yes!" The noblewoman sighed, then laughed. "Oh, who is...this..." She frowned, seeing the lasgun.
"Magus Yolanda, we caught him rooting around in the ashcan that brought the last of our new members," the man with the lasgun said.
Barik wasn't even watching Magus Yolanda. He was watching another woman. She was fine boned, delicate, and bald. Her brow was ridged, and her clawed finger was holding a slender looking Orbitz painted girl in place. Something sleek and alien, shrouded by a curtain, was pressing its inhuman lips to the other woman's crotch. The Orbitz woman arched her back, gasping and crying out - her lips forming the words
oh stars, yes! as the bald woman caressed her belly, smiling with a matronly grin.
Then Barik felt fingers on his chin. He looked back at Yolanda. She smiled at him.
"I don't want to hurt you," she said, her voice soft. "Thumbtacks and screws and fire and brands. We kill when we must, but we try to avoid hurting." Her finger brushed through his hair. "My word, you are a pretty fellow." SHe smiled. "Do you wish to join the Sisterhood?"
"Yes," Barik whispered, desperately. "I mean...no, I...w-what is this place, are you mutants?"
"Mmhmm," Yolanda said. "Though, I smell something in you." She leaned in. Her head cocked and she smiled, showing her very sharp teeth. "Do you mind if I peer into your mind? Open yourself to me. It'll be gentle." Her fingers tugged at his collar and Barik trembled, his skin prickling. He had no idea what she meant by peering into his mind. Was it witchcraft? He gulped, then whispered.
"I-I don't know?"
"Shh."
Her eyes met his. And she felt cold fingers brushing through his mind. The touch was not uncomfortable, but it was not
pleasant either. He didn't fight as she swept through his mind, and then frowned. "Well, drat," she said, then shook he head. "You were threatened, starving, and miserable, my sister." She smiled. "Go...to...that corner." She nodded. "And do everything those sisters tell you - I have to, sadly, forego being fucked silly." She smacked Barik on the shoulder. "Also...Baria. How does that sound?"
"I-I...what?" Barik blinked, then saw the naked, glorious woman walking off to the other bald woman. The two murmured, then hurried off.
When he came to the corner, the women there were mostly purple. One had three arms. One had no hair and bright gold-purple eyes. The third was...mostly human, but she had painted herself in purples and blacks. Each of them enjoying a bright hooka which was filled with a chemical that smelled tingling, the smoke a bright pinkish hue. The three grinned at him playfully. "Here to join the Sisterhood?" one purred.
"I-I...I..." Barik stammered.
"Don't worry, Baria, Yolanda already told us. Come on. Take a puff and don't worry. We have all the time in the world."
Barik knelt. He took the pipe. He breathed in. His mind hazed. His eyes half closed. He breathed out. And for the first time in his life, Barik felt a deep peace in his skin, even as the girls started to tug off his clothing. He lounged back into the seat, his body tingling. His arousal did not show in any visible sense - his cock remained quite soft as the girls giggled and stroked him - one actually began to gently buzz a arc-stubber along his cheek. The searing sting of each of his folicles getting seared out was easy to ignore, thanks to one of the other girls feeding the hooka pipe into his mouth. He smoked again, then sighed. "Wow, that feels nice," he said, voice sounding higher than he expected.
He settled in.
Magus Yolanda and Magus Xandra looked at one another. Xandra frowned.
"Storm's coming," she said. "Once the intiation is done, we...we will have to make some plans."
Yolanda nodded. She glanced back, and saw Baria, looking quite a bit more feminine, pink haze fogging around her head as she giggled happily. The budding of her new breasts were already present - the finest alcochemists on Thedias had worked on that hormanta batch and, Yolanda had to admit, was quite a potent
kick for members who wanted to become Sisters, not merely members of the Sisterhood. She flicked her finger and one of their Pure started to head over, to give the new girl a kiss. She looked back at Magus.
"Think we'll be facing both of them?" she asked. Yolanda sometimes was seen as nothing but a silly noble fop. But her voice could be quite serious. Quite cold.
"...Star Children, I hope not," Xandra whispered.
***
Brother Raxian, Brother Theoboldius, Brother Ulnif.
The three names burned inside of Olrax's mind as he worked the sinch tighter and tighter on his makeshift glove. Joining the Deathwatch had meant setting aside his Chapter's livery, all save for a single pauldron. It meant leaving behind his Chapter's faith and culture and becoming a part of the Deathwatch. But there were some things that, even for something as honorable as the Deathwatch, was a step too far. He sinched the glove tighter, his teeth clenching hard. The small cell he knelt in opened - and a nervous looking scribe peered in. It was not a chapter serf, but rather, an Inquisitorial toady.
"S-Sir," the toady said. "We have a location."
Olrax stood, slowly.
"My...surviving brothers?"
"They are being prepared."
Olrax turned, frowning.
"The drop pod?" he asked.
"Aimed. Loaded." The man gulped.
"Good," Olrax said, blood dripping to the ground as the glove bit.
It bit
tight.
---
DUN. DUN. DUNNNN!!!! The inquisition has the location, and they have the Deathwatch. So, five space marines are going to land on your head! You are UNDER ATTACK! They're going to be rolling Might+Treasure, while you guys roll Might+Territory with a +2d bonus for being on the defensive (so, in the ORE system loose dice rolling high can give you some leeway, and since you DID roll a 10, I decided to give you the leeway of catching the spy and knowing the attack is coming, which means you can use your Tunnels and Bunkers defense.)
Now, the question is: Do you wish to fight defensively (block their attack but leave their might undamaged), or do you want to try and bleed em (attack back, reducing their Might and, potentially, spoiling their sets.)
ADVANTAGE OF DEFENSIVE: Safer! Easier!
DISADVANTAGE: Their next roll will be at only normal penalties, prolonging the fight, and it means the might loss won't be permanent.
ADVANTAGES OF OFFENSIVE: Increases their dice penalties by reducing their might, and if you bring their might to 0, YOU KILL THEM ALL (!!!!)
DISADVANTAGES: If your set and their set are tired, you both hurt one another (that happened to the Skavtz, remember?)
Normally, you can also buff yourself by hiring mercs but...A) you don't have time and B) not for all the thrones in arabax sector, the only way to get people to fight space marines is if they well and truly believe.
Oh, and do remember: The better the write in, the better your chances, so if you want to describe a really fucking cool strategy, tactic or move, go now!
[ ] Fight Defensively
[ ] Fight Aggressively
