Much like the Archmagos' office, the first thing Ramona did as they entered the dojo was sweep her gaze over it for anything of interest. New territory, unknown variables, best to get the lay of the land as quickly as possible and assess what you can. Her gaze lingered, however briefly, on the miniature trees that dotted the area-- life in the underhive had left greenery strange to her, and even decades later she wasn't quite used to it.

"Hm." She took a deep breath as the smell of ozone joined the other myriad stenches in the air as the monks practiced their strange devotion to their strange god, even compared to the rest of the Factory-Cathedral, the air tingling with pent-up energy. Finally, her gaze went to the surely superfluous amount of stairs leading to the innermost part of the dojo, then to the figures visible atop the pagoda. Much as with Vigrid, there was little mistaking the massive Kim for anything but what she was.

"What do you know about Eunicornius?" She glanced towards Vigrid as they began the climb, looking for whatever insight either of them could muster. Sloppiness of the murder scene aside, the Dark Angel wasn't entirely ruled out as the killer just yet, and any edge was welcome in matters such as this.

[Art History]
Lion green
Wolf blue
Fangs, jaws
Loyal two
Forest black
Burning sky
Fool's glory
Eye's eye

In the days of the Great Crusade, when the Dark Angels and Space Wolves were both Legions, there was a terrible argument between Lion'el Johnson and Leman Russ that escalated to a duel to the death. Lion'el, Primarch of the Dark Angels, won the fight - but at the last moment turned aside his blade and spared the life of Leman Russ. A glorious battle, one of the first sagas that every Space Wolf learns - and the beginning of a ten thousand year tradition that whenever the Angels and the Wolves meet again then a formal duel should be conducted between their champions to recreate the great battle of their Primarchs.

Eunicornus knows this too. They do not waste a single word. As you reach the bottom of the stairs, they stand. Robed in ashen white, helmet bearing magnificent wings, golden pauldrons glittering with displays of ancient battles. Get closer, give me a good look, and I will unravel the secrets engraved into their armour [1-point spend].

Ramonia!

You don't get any of that. You just see a transhuman killer in full plate draw a sword the size of your entire body and start coming down the stairs towards you with what is clearly murderous intent. Whatever else you have become in your life, your ancient monkey brain is letting you know that this is the largest, scariest monkey you have ever seen and it means to inflict harm. You're up for a Stability check - you won't embarrass yourself on a failure, but you might miss some things that you otherwise would have picked up on.

Ramona took a step back as the Dark Angel began their descent, the glint of a hidden blade appearing in her hand with a flick of the wrist. This was starting poorly.

Base of the neck; slice the throat, sever the artery, drown them in their own blood. No good-- between that damned collar and the bulk of their helmet, there was barely room to wedge a blade in there. And that left you practically in the sweet embrace of an eight foot tall killing machine.

She preferred words to violence. Words gave you more opportunities, and left fewer dead ends.

Under the arm; find a gap, pierce a lung. Just as bad-- Those pauldrons came down too far, and there was no guarantee she'd make it through all that muscle to anything vital.

But sometimes words weren't an option, or would just give your opponent an opportunity. She didn't shy away from violence, make no mistake. There was a killer buried in there.

Inner thigh; nice juicy arteries in each leg, and tendons to clip to cripple them. The best option out of a bad lot-- she'd need precision to not make it messier and slower than she needed it to be.

Throne, but no one should be able to move that easily in that much armor, carrying a sword like that. The last option was living to fight another day, make a break for the exit and hope she could outrun one of the Emperor's Chosen. But they were supposed to be fast, and even if they didn't have a firearm on them who knows if they'd learned how to throw damned lightning like the rest of these monks.

Her eye flicked to Vigrid, loathe as she was to tear her gaze from the obvious threat. He seemed remarkably calm, given the circumstances.

"What do you know about Eunicornius?"--

"Finally," the great brute breathed, tone full of anticipation, his arms rolling martially in their shoulder cuffs, the chainaxe at his side was already in his massive fists. The look in his cold blue eyes was excitement. Yes, this was the first good development, meeting this Blood Angel, all day. A good distraction from mind games. An ancient tradition to ground him. Emperor, this was exactly what he needed. He rolled his neck, audible cracks echoing as stiffness from looking at clues and craning for cogitators worked its way out of his joints.

There was something about Eunicornus' plate; the display of ancient battles seemed to call to him. As the Space Wolf approached the matter at hand, he concentrated the first few moments of his battle scan on the markings in his duel-mate's armor. Any knowledge of battles won and victories earned could give him more insight into his opponent and their history. [Spend 1 point in Art History]

In the moments before he stepped in front of Ramona, he glanced at her and slightly shook his gargantuan head, the mass of kempt beard
and mustache following. The look in his eye was frighteningly joyous, wide lids and high cheeks expressing emotions the Marine felt. To Ramona it might look psychotic, or it might be encouraging that he wasn't surprised by the development of having another Marine approach them with ill-intent.

[Flirting] This is the most beautiful duel you have ever been in. Fighting your brother Wolves is all fine and well, but they are all descended from the same lineage of combat. This is an exotic mystery, a tradition founded in silence and spiral, a pattern of defensive steps unraveling all that you are while offering nothing in exchange. You could fight this warrior forever. You would lose every time. You truly understand in this moment why the Lion and the Wolf will be remembered forever.

[Art History] Everything about the Dark Angels is written in secrecy, but still it is written. What is commemorated on this armour in the glimpses you catch of it through whirling robes are not battles and military actions, but duels. Marked in emerald and silver are stories of battles with exotic champions - lords of the deathless stars, shapes of fire and terror, and of course bloody victories against champions of the Hive.

But the entire left pauldron commemorates one battle in particular: a duel against a blademaster of the Aeldari.

This conflict must have been and taken everything, a pivotal moment in an extended campaign, a triumph against every odd. In the center of this display is a radiant pink-violet gemstone, glittering with an otherworldly light, a trophy of an impossible victory. And you can see - yes, there! The Ancient One took both of Eunicornus' arms before the end. These hammer blows raining down on you are driven by cybernetics, injuries so extensive that some would be interred into a Dreadnought Sarcophagus before recovering.

I tell you now, if you were to somehow extract the full tale from this Angel then the Great Wolf would call you to recite it in the Great Hall on Fenris. As it stands, the basic fact is that this is a close combatant without peer - sword-sage, bladeguard, company champion, a thousand names to describe one of the Astartes' finest.

[Tradecraft] Yes, yes, yes. But the operative question is how do they handle a bolter?

The murder was not done with a blade, it was done with a gun. Eunicornus has a bolt pistol holstered at their side but they have shown no interest in drawing it so far. Are they deliberately hiding their skill? Do their cybernetics allow them the kind of perfect reflexes that would be required to have assassinated the Archmagos? There is no way to tell -

[Intimidate] scream

[Tradecraft] What?

[Intimidate] scream... loud

[2 point spend to make one of the Emperor's Chosen feel fear and fire their bolter in a panic.]

*

Ramona!

"I wish I could say this was due to my training," said ZBD_ZEN, descending the staircase on a grav-palenquin. It was crawling with eerie cherubum - lobotomized and winged fish, monkeys, flute-playing servitors, a cacophany of flesh and steel bought together into an eerie symphony. ZBD herself wears a sleek and clean biomechanical body, with divinely structured muscles and an eerie beauty that stops at the impassive facless mask. "But Eunicornus has always been very talented. How may we assist the Dynasty?"

[Negotiation] Listen to how close they're playing it. They're afraid they'll let slip some precious wisdom if they speak freely. Some of the cogheads are like this - afraid that an offhand comment will let valuable knowledge fall into profane hands. Your best course of action is being extremely specific about the information you require, and being prepared to pay for it if they put their hand out.

Ramona had seen a lot of things-- gang wars that raged across entire hab blocks, the blazing brilliance of a voidship's ordnance streaking through the deep black, the walls of that same voidship bleeding horrors as its Geller Field began to fail-- but this? Two space marines giving their all against one another, strike and parry and riposte nearly faster than the eye could track and close enough to practically reach out and touch? Well, that was something else entirely. It was a primal feeling, a humbling one, like watching a storm and hoping it didn't turn in your direction.

She took a deep breath, her blade slipping away again. ZBD_ZEN descending to greet her was a welcome diversion. Cogs she could deal with.

"Given the state of things, I feel it's more mutual assistance." She turned away from the clash of transhuman might, bowing respectfully to the electro-priest. As she straightened, she took a moment to regard the woman; frustratingly hard to read thanks to the mask, but even a synthesized voice had tells. "... Your student is implicated in some very dangerous matters concerning the Archmagos. In the interest of continued relations between my Lord and the Factory-Cathedral, I'm here t'sort truth from lies. For all our sakes."

She looked towards the ongoing duel, letting the statement hang in the air for a moment. With prosperity finally coming to Houndclaw again, the last thing the sector needed was a major manufacturing hub to descend into disarray.

"Can you testify to their whereabouts? As far back as possible, and ideally with some kind've proof."

This combat was so much more than Vigrid had hoped. The Angel was otherworldly; the way Eunicornus moved, the speed with which the blows landed, countered, returned, and parried was a sight to behold. Between flourishes, Vigrid was able to spy the detail etched into the left pauldron of his dueling partner. The battle displayed was baffling; the cost both of Eunicornus' arms. The awe that painted Vigrid's face was in plain view. Such a battle he could only imagine, and his vicarious reading and recognition of the encounter drove him onward. It was an honor, this duel--this beautiful combat, so natural as breathing, so welcome as falling asleep, and yet... And yet he knew this glorious duel was not the purpose of this mission.

Eunicornus was still a suspect that needed to be examined as the murderer of the Archmagos. To pull the thread that needed pulling, Vigrid had to see the pistol. Had to witness Eunicornus' marksmanship. A wild and pricking thought crossed his mind, as he begrudgingly countered backward, deflected hammering blow after blow powered by those cybernetic arms.

The Marine took a deep breath. He held it there, building, and tapped into a reserve of strength he had yet unlocked. All that reserve went to the cowering sound which erupted from his mouth, a mighty scream; a piercing warcry. A catalyst to beg a reaction. [Spending 2 points of Intimidation]

[Flirting] It's almost a disappointment, the way those shots land. One, two, three, aimed vaguely for center mass, detonating in a functional but uninspired line. All that's there is the same basic training any Marine goes through, enough to not embarrass oneself on the battleline but no more than that.

Still, it's to be expected. You can feel from the way they move that they're used to using their right arm to carry a storm shield, making the pistol a true last resort. This is a close combat specialist through and through and there is no way in hell they could have made the shots that killed the Archmagos.

That's the last you're able to process before the shock wears off, Eunicornius rolls forwards, and delivers a rolling kick to your body that sends you crashing down two dozen stairs with a sound like an earthquake hitting a blacksmith's shop.

Ramonia!

"I - cannot," said ZBD_ZEN. "The Dark Angels keep their own company. Eunicornus only arrived at my dojo some time after the alarms sounded. I can provide them no alibi."

[Bullshit Detector] One of the lovely things about Tech-Priests is that they all seem to think that voice modulators and masks is all that's required to cloak their intentions. But with this offered for free without any tech decorum or bid for even token payment, it's almost like actively throwing the Astartes under the bus. You smell fear.

"A sh--" The shots had left Ramona unfazed, she had seen plenty of friendly brawls turn into shootouts, but the sound of hundreds of kilos of Astartes wearing hundreds of additional kilos of armor being sent tumbling down a stairway was, unsurprisingly, quite the hellish cacophony. For a moment her blade flicked back into her hand, and she fell back into a defensive stance... for all the good that would do if this suddenly took a turn for the worse. A moment later, she straightened, hand empty again as she determined that it was more or less under control by Vigrid. Deep breath, Ramona. "... A shame. Without an alibi, the evidence is damning. A marine bolter fired the shot, paint matching their armor is practically caked on the bootprint that kicked open the door. It'd be easy enough for your fellow council members to pin the blame on them."

Her organic eye narrowed ever so slightly as she studied the blank mask of ZEN. The master of the electro-priests, so disciplined and supposedly unflappable, was afraid. Of what?

But it wouldn't do to come out and say that outright, not with how stubbornly committed to their cryptic nonsense cogs could be. One chance to let her save face.

"Imagine that'd cast quite the shadow over your esteemed dojo. Not t'mention the Astartes themselves reacting in kind, proud as they are. Even the smallest crumb might help avoid throwing a match into the promethium."

It was all that Vigrid could do to wrap his weapon in his grip as he lost all balance and tumbled down the stairs. Eunicornus' kick was a decisive and impactful reminder that the Dark Angel considered themselves the better warrior; they were not wrong. This duel, though one sided, was a grounding reminder of their ancient brethren, and an informative intellectual pursuit to understand the falseness in the arranged evidence that pointed to the only other Astartes in the hive. Eunicornus was not the assassin (or one of the assasins) of Archmagos Toros. There was no way this marksmanship could have: a) fired without triggering the displacer field (Wait, what even is a displacer field?(No, I still don't know anything about what can disable or manipulate a displacer field)), b) could have targeted exactly where the Archmagos teleported before they even arrived on the spot.

As Vigrid's armor impacted each of the two dozen stairs, he had plenty to think about.

Evidence undermined:
1. Boot print --- likely planted
2. Bolter gun use --- likely not from this weapon
3. Bolter round itself --- painted in the raiment of the Dark Angels as a red herring

Each impact drove home another harrowing thought:

Vigrid and Ramona were exactly where the planter of this evidence had expected them to follow... That could mean myriad things, two of which were an ambush, or a feint to do accomplish something else while they were occupied. This dead end may prove a lethal blow to their investigation if they don't rally quickly and return to the ivory tower.

Those were the last thoughts in Vigrid's mind as his body landed at the base of the two staircases, sprawled except for his tight grip to his weapon. From his place on the ground, the Space Wolf regarded Eunicornus at the top of the stairs; their planted stance an indication that this duel was coming to a close. They had expelled Vigrid from the space, just as Fenris had been bested and spared. The Marine stood, his cheek and lip bloodied from the exchange, and nodded at Eunicornus on the high ground. This encounter had satisfied both Vigrid's desire to move his limbs on this dusty hive, and to further his grasp of the situation regarding the Archmagos. Eunicornus had served him well in both regards.

Ramona!

"We of the Adeptus Mechanicus believe in the Quest for Knowledge," said ZBD_ZEN sagely, palm pressed against fist. "We believe in truth. Evidence. Data. If data indicates the involvement of the Astartes then we cannot allow political considerations to corrupt that."

[Bullshit Detector] Ha ha ha, wow, okay.

"Perhaps you should present your findings to the Council immediately?" said the Electromancer. "A swift and decisive resolution to the matter would surely be the best solution for any uncertainty."

[Negotiation: 1 point spend] This isn't a carefully thought through coverup. This is someone who thinks things look really bad for them desperately throwing the first available scapegoat under the bus. Sure it's bad for them if Eunicornus gets the blame, but it's way worse for them if they get the blame - and they seem to think that's a live possibility right now.

You need to redirect this - present a valid alternative suspect who'll take the fall. Do that and ZBD_ZEN will throw their full support behind you. But you don't have that in hand yet - they're not going to entertain a fishing expedition or offer any data that'd open up the case even a fraction. This feels like someone to come back to once you've got an alternative suspect.

Virgid!

[Tradecraft] You're right buddy, the vibes are rancid.

Nobody's taking a shot at you right now. Right now you're where you're supposed to be, following the trail of breadcrumbs, right up to the people being framed for the assassination. But you've got a shiver up your spine like you're being watched, and that could very easily turn into you being dead.

All I can say is choose carefully when to go off script. When you do, move fast and move hard.

[Reassurance] So, Eunicornus is standing up there on the stairs in silence like a total badass, right? Helmet on, not saying anything, classic Dark Angel. But something about that stance strikes you less as 'cold-blooded killer' and more like 'awkward pup'. Some Brothers get like that, particularly after long solo missions - spend a decade hunting Tyrannids in a swamp with only your bolter for company and it gets hard to open up afterwards. That's why the pack is so important; swapping stories and drinking mjord helps an Astartes remember who they are underneath all the armour.

It'd take a bit of work to ease them into it, but you get the feeling that they'd really like someone to talk to.

Spend: 1 Negotiation

"..." It was hard to hide the sudden disdain Ramona felt for ZBD_ZEN-- hedging your bets and covering your ass was one thing, but to so readily throw your mates to the wolves like that? Despicable. Spineless. Sloppy. You looked out for those close to you, especially if you were calling the shots. Treating them like aquilas to be spent... feh. She'd be of use, but any respect that might have been garnered was dashed against the steps they stood on.

"Not just yet." Ramona's scrutinizing gaze flashed away again, to the two Astartes as they stared each other down-- seemed Vigrid had conceded in whatever posturing they were doing. Now that blows weren't raining almost faster than she could track, she knew a Hiver Handshake when she saw it. Scratch one immediate problem off the list, anyway. "No sense deepening the Council's grief with needless haste. Surely you all mourn for the loss of the Archmagos."

One last probe. Get more of a feel for just how desperate the Electromancer was right now.

"Apologies for the interruption." Ramona again bowed respectfully to the tech-priest, biting back the bile and barbed comments she wanted to throw right now. Spineless. "I'll... keep your words in mind."