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."

Uh-huh, rancid was right. Vigrid, feeling that sixth sense breathing down his neck, relaxed his shoulders and trained his gaze on the Brother. Any tips of the hand, tensing, and casting glances over shoulders could scuttle things. They were being watched, no doubt about it. Debating for a moment, in a fluid motion, Vigrid turned to Ramona to give a subtle inclination of his chin. A nod that things were copacetic, before spitting his own blood on the ground beside him and turning back to Eunicornus.

She'd get it. Probably.

Eunicornus had more to give than this exciting battle which had not disappointed. The Brother had more to give, yes, but he also had something to receive. Now, to that awkward Astartes in desperate need of a little heart-to-heart...

"Brother!" Vigrid shouted, his bassy voice carrying up the stairs and into the echoing cube. His axehead slammed into the ground as he perched a foot on top of it, the other arm waving. "Now *that* was an exhilarating battle!" He dismounted his axe before taking the steps two-at-a-time to arrive at the top beside the towering Blood Angel. "But you know all about exhilarating battle, don't you?" Vigrid pointed his axe-free hand at his own left pauldron. Reaching into the pouch at his hip, the Space Wolf extracted a flask lined in fur and took a deep swig before holding it out to the Blood Angel. [I'd like to spend some reassurance, not sure how this works, maybe 1 point to start?]

Ramona!

"Grief is an imperfection that would reduce the efficacy of this factory-complex," said ZBD_ZEN. "And efficiency is what is required. A full review and restack of all suppliers and contractual requirements will be necessary in the wake of a leadership transition, and the faster that can be done the better for everyone. Your help would be welcome with such an opportunity."

[Negotiation] That's a bribe. That's offering you a chance to do a huge kickback into the pockets of your Rogue Trader's Dynasty. We're talking starship amounts of money. So to answer your question, pretty desperate.

Virgid!

"I... do." said Euncornius. Closer up the gold and emerald green detailing on their armour was even more magnificent. Some Chapters leave their armour to be maintained by serfs, kept at a barely functional level. This armour represented years of painstaking metalworking and painting, intricate patterns of enmeshed triangles and whirling spiral patterns.

"My name is Eunicornius Kim of the Dark Angels Le - Chapter," said the Astartes in formal High Gothic. "I am an instructor of the Bladeguard, seconded to the Adeptus Mechanicus in order to refine advanced combat techniques for dissemination throughout the Legion. The Magos here has been very accommodating -"

[Reassurance: 1 point spend] Big smile. They might have hiccupped the thought, held back information out of sheer habit, but you're very easy to talk to and so they awkwardly stumble on into the too much information rambling.

"- in particular, helping train to battle the Lychguard of the Necrontyr," said Eunicornius. "If you have never had cause to face them, they are extremely mentally challenging opponents to face off against. Their hyperphase weaponry can pass right through armour to cut flesh, and their dispersion shields are localized teleportation devices. They can not only block bolter rounds, but actively reverse them so they fly back the way that they have come. Added to that, the Lychguard can under some circumstances perform combat teleportation maneuvers. This results in battles requiring perfect situational awareness and the ability to adapt to dangers arising from every direction, while also keeping in mind projectile angles and trying not to rely on one's armour. Master ZEN's displacer field technology is as close as the Imperium can come to the Xenos technology and so I have been training with her most advanced combat servitors as I develop countermeasure techniques."

[Reassurance] A displacer field specialist, hmm?

While you chew on that, just to make sure you got it: You're dealing with a nerd. Absolute goofy ass combat dork. This is someone who will spend literal days talking through the topic of their hyperfixation and will go as deep into the sauce as they are allowed to go.

"With all due respect, councilwoman, grief is what separates us from the beasts n' the bastards." And now a blatant offer to buy her verdict on the murder of one of the most influential people on the planet-- putting aside the fact that Lord Armitage would take her other eye for such crude laziness, there was the sheer matter of pride to consider! She didn't get to where she was by short-sighted greed. If the entire council was as scared shiteless as ZBD_ZEN was, this was going to be a bigger mess than feared. "... The Dynasty will gladly lend its aid to the Factory-Cathedral in whatever capacity I am able, once this mess has been sorted. I have as much disdain for half-measures as my Lord does, efficiency or not."

In much nicer words: I see what you did there, and neither I nor the Rogue Trader are for sale.

"Now, by your leave." Credit where it was due, Ramona managed a respectful bow to the tech-priest she had very little respect remaining for. "My... associate and I are nowhere near finished, I fear."

She turned, moving to stand a respectful distance from the two Astartes as they conversed, hands back in her coat pockets as she watched and listened. Associate seemed as good a word as any; she had to roll with the punches as they came, and a tech-marine could get her results she was incapable of herself. And the lad seemed affable enough, now that they weren't poring over a steaming corpse together.

This damned old tech seemed the crux of the entire matter. Ramona had connections in the Factory-Cathedral, gearheads that thrived on this sort of thing, it was time to come calling on old favors...

Eunicornus was every bit as surprising in conversation as they were in battle. This Marine had extensive knowledge of something which Vigrid had no idea, and hearing them wax and wane on the subject grew a new respect for his Brother just in the hearing. There was a way in which their eyes lit up when they spoke about the displacer field--the way they studied it, the capabilities, the challenges, the pursuit of 'countermeasure techniques.' Among his immediate pack, he occupied the space as resident technical specialist (nerd), but even being one of the 'technically minded' among his Bretheren still set him up as the meat-head hammer in contrast to Eunicornus. That gave him an idea.

"Your pursuit is fascinating. I myself am Vigrid Brand of the Space Wolves Chapter, newly minted Techmarine en route back to Fenris to undergo the necessary rituals. The Emperor has guided me to you, Eunicornus, of that I have no doubt." Vigrid took another swig of his Mjod, before loosely offering it to Eunicornus again. He continued, "Your expertise in this matter is very fortuitous. May I lean on your specialty for a sensitive matter?" The Space Wolf met the Dark Angel's eye, solemnly now. The non-verbal assent bid him to continue. "The Archmagos is dead. I am investigating her death. Archmagos Toros was also in possession of a displacer field that misfired. Could I run the facts of the case by you in respect to this technology?"

If Eunicornus accepts the proposal to talk about this thing that tickles their nerd fancy, Vigrid will fill them in on all the details of the case as pertain to the displacer field functionality, facts of where it teleported, when it triggered, the assumed order of events, etc.

"Do you have any thoughts on the order of events or what might cause a displacer field to trigger too late?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Vigrid noticed Ramona's approach. She stood a respectable distance away, but Vigrid motioned for her to join them, offering her his over-sized-to-her fur-lined canteen filled with Mjod. Then he returned his full attention to Eunicornus.

"A Displacer Field creates an extremely weak forcefield bubble around its wearer," said Eunicornus, thinking. "When that bubble is penetrated by a weapon then it collapses, like a punctured balloon, and drags its user through the Aether until the collapse is finished, whereupon the user re-materializes. Then it takes a minute or so to re-inflate the bubble. Or... that's how I understand it, I am not a Techmarine, I just know its behavior for the purposes of combat."

They cough. Their helmet is still on and they show no signs of taking it off. Some Astartes are like that; it makes their voices a little hard to follow sometimes, but some MK4 helmet types have the options for subtitles.

"That is to say, it is possible to shoot someone through a Displacer Field," said Eunicornus. "If you aim exactly right and have the correct angle a shot can make contact with the target before the bubble collapses, and then the bolt gets dragged along with the user as they're teleporting. It's impossible to shoot someone twice though, the collapse will always initiate before the second round will make contact. This means they're excellent protection against sustained, automatic fire. This also means they're excellent for heavily armoured individuals like Tech-Magi who can shake off a single bolt round, teleport to safety and use the moment of disorientation to charge their weapons and activate optic arrays to re-orient. Killing an Archmagos outright with a single shot, though?" They let out an impressed breath, a crackle of static from the helmet speakers. "That's a hell of a shot. That's something I don't think anyone outside the Vindicare Temple of Snipers could do reliably, especially during a breach and clear. Maybe a robot? Even then they'd have to get really lucky..."

They trail off in thought, tapping their fingers against the hilt of their sword.

"The second exchange is easier, though," said Eunicornus. "If the assassin knew where the Archmagos was teleporting to and was able to shoot them as they were materializing then either they could see the future or they had sabotaged the Displacer Field. There are lots of Xenos that can do either or both. It's why we don't use the things ourselves - not reliable enough, they're civilian escape hatches and not military standard. Necrontyr phase-tech is more advanced and doesn't have those limitations, but this is as close as we can get to train against it."

Ramona couldn't help but chuff out a raspy laugh at the offered canteen, holding up a hand as she moved closer to decline the no doubt borderline lethal concoction to a mere mortal.

"When we're done here, lad. I've a feeling whatever you have in there will put me right on my arse." As Eunicornus spoke, Ramona reached into the inner pocket of her overcoat, producing a smoking pipe that looked like it had been cobbled together decades ago from scrap metal, along with a small drawstring pouch. Pipe clenched in her teeth, she took a moment to remove her gloves-- easier done without them-- shoving them into a pocket and beginning to pack the bitter-smelling herb into the pipe. Out of the gloves, Ramona's hands told a story; the right was covered almost entirely, wrist to fingertips, in old fading ink, a criss-cross of interconnected tattoos that disappeared past the cuff of her coat. The left, meanwhile, was brushed steel and servos, well-made and well-maintained. To those with a knack for tech, it was obvious that both hand and eye were crafted and set by the same artisan.

"Given the environs, my bet's on sabotage. However one might manage that." Ramona mused as she worked at her small ritual, the much-repeated activity centering her again... pushing out the flare of anger that still smoldered at the Electromancer's desperate attempt to shift blame. Seemingly satisfied, and pipe clenched in her teeth again, metal thumb scraped against forefinger to make a spark and set it alight. "But I'm getting ahead of myself."

As she took a deep breath, she bowed her head to the Dark Angel.

"Ramona of Sarringrad, representing the Armitage Dynasty in this unfortunate matter." Smoke escaped from between her teeth as she straightened, forced to look up at two bloody huge hulks now. Her gaze flicked to Vigrid briefly, looking for his unspoken opinion on the other astartes and their potential role in all of this. Though the very fact they were speaking at all about matters said a lot. "... Not to interrupt your training, but would you honor us with a tour of the dojo? It's a fascinatin' place."

And there's so much of it away from the eyes and ears of ZBD_ZEN.

The more he pulled at this thread, the less satisfying the answers to his questions. 'Exactly the right angle...' 'Vindicare Temple of Snipers...' 'Robot...' 'Xenos treachery...' Though Eunicornus had been very elucidatory, the answers to this question sat squarely somewhere between 'very lucky' and 'unknown technology.' Vigrid fidgeted as it became obvious from the awe in Eunicornus' voice that they had finished speaking and had come to the end of their knowledge about the subject--at least the end of their summary knowledge. Anything else was probably burned into their muscle memory on how to combat this technology. The hair on the back of Vigrid's neck stood up.

From the corner of his eye Vigrid noticed the ungloved hands of Ramona as she struck her pipe. The fine motor functions of her digits danced precisely along her task as something which was a matter of course. When she voiced her opinion, he added:

"I concur, whomever supplied the Archmagos with the Displacer Field must have sabotaged it. Luck is a fool's word for the preparation of the wise," for a moment he turned to Ramona, as if logging the information aloud and summarizing his train of thought in case it sparked something for his cohort. "You wouldn't happen to know where Archmagos Toros may have obtained such technology, would you?"

His question was met by the visored eyes of Eunicornus. There was something there, in that split second Vigrid met their gaze, something that tugged at his gut. Why had Eunicornus not removed their mask? Sure, some Astartes, especially those who had been alone on missions for too long, who preferred to keep their helmets on, but there was something else here. Could it be that Eunicornus lost more than just their arms in battle, and they--for some reason unknown--did not see fit to show their scars? It could be nothing. But there was a conspiracy rising in the back of Vigrid's mind as he took another appraising look of Eunicornus, now that they were both relaxed and conversing. Maybe their body language or something in their armor had more to tell him.

When Ramona introduced herself, she met his eye for a moment, searchingly. Something nagged him in the back of his mind still, but he brought himself to reply with a curt nod in the negative: this Astartes was not their assassin. At her request for a tour, Vigrid eyed the Dark Angel, measuring their response.

"The Omnissiah has many forms," said Eunicornus. "Here they are worshiped in their aspect of the Motive Force."

This was a holy place, after all. It was also a laboratory. It did not study the in blueprints and glowing vats, not in cogitators or plasma coils. It was studied in the relationship of muscle and metal, of charge and negation. Everywhere there were duelist skitarii moving through the steps of martial forms, stance and counterstance, surrounded by clouds of servo skulls taking 3D renders of the tiniest movements. There were hundreds of salt circles filled with a thousand cyborgs. Some have the hulking, skeletal structure of simulated orks; others are low and skittering in mechanical replication of the Tyranid hives. It felt heretical to see sacred machines twisted into the forms of xenos - some Inquisitors would order this place condemned for that alone. But the research was conducted in the open, blessed by the Archmagi, and with results that were essential for the development of Sicarian legions.

"While martial arts are plentiful for humans fighting against humans," said Eunicornus, leading through the battling arrays, the whirr of transonic weaponry. "Fewer exist for humans to fight the alien. Traditional martial training left the Skitarii vulnerable during the war against Porphyrios. The survivors of those battles were taken here, had their cognitive implants extracted and duplicated and cross-referenced to form complete 3-D models of enemy bioforms. Once martial techniques have been developed for optimized battle against the Hive Fleet they will be distributed amongst all major forgeworlds, and the prestige of the Isohedron will grow."

Live weapons were used. Could it be any other way? Mercy could not be shown, even to training dummies. A Sicarian whirls and slices apart a Warrior form, not ceasing its butchery until a scanner skull's eye blinked green. Immediately it stopped and folded its blades underneath its ragged cloak as a pair of lobotomized slaves emerged to haul the broken wreckage to one of the endless charnel pipes.

Virgid, you know where those pipes lead. The same place as the garbage chute in the Archmagos' sanctum: the Lair of the Necromechanic, Magos Stoll. A vast hell of death and industry, a lightless place of fire and smoke, lit by the cascading sheets of arc-cutter sparks and the endless churning maw of industry. This is where you conducted the vast majority of your training: Working in nightmare conditions, shoulder to shoulder with hunched priests of the dark, working to fix all of the Imperium's broken machines as corpses rained down from overhead. You not only learned how to repair complex devices under the eerie spider-eyes of the Magos, but to do so in the hardest conditions imaginable. You were glad to be free of the place.

"Of course, the Isohedron is also researching a variety of Xenos foes..." said Eunicornus. They stopped by an uncanny figure - a tall and slender battle robot. Its arms were too long, its helmet was too long, its posture implied a center of balance that was not right for a human. It stood languidly above the bodies of three Sicarians, tracing a gentle figure of eight in the ground with its blade.

You could have sworn it tilted its head in recognition.

"... but due to available data, the Swarm is the focus right now," said Eunicornus, shaking their head and moving on. "Yesterday's war, but better to record everything so we do not forget. Though, I wonder..."

[Reassurance] Eunicornus isn't going openly to point the finger at ZBD_ZEN. ZEN is their instructor in this place, and a certain loyalty and respect is required. It's clear that they're suspicious too, but you get the feeling that Eunicornus is the 'do my own investigation, and if I think that ZEN is guilty duel them to the death myself' type. Honour, in the shadows - the Dark Angel way.

[Flirting] They're not taking their helmet off because they're ~too pretty~

[Military Science] For all their talk of the Necron menace, it is clear that Eunicornus thinks the Aeldari menace is the true threat. The place of prominence on their armour, the Aeldari gemstone trophy - even thinking about it, there were notes in your duel that indicate that they had been practicing against exceptionally maneuverable foes and were unprepared for brute force attacks. There is no data backing this up; the Aeldari have not been seen in the sector for years.