[IC] The Edge of Damnation [A Warhammer 40k/Dark Heresy RP]

[DJAtomika]

"Yes, the Emperor was kind and it was a swift journey. And you? Never mind, I'm sure we can discuss it over drinks at the 3rd Tantalus Workers Union. And bring your friends!"

@The Fated Fallen

"The journey was uneventful, thank the Emperor, and oh I'd be delighted to, Adrianna! Sadly I think my companions are indisposed at the moment, but I would gladly take up that offer of a drink."

He smiled and nodded, leaning idly on his staff as he made pleasant conversation with the Outcast. Frankly he'd missed interaction like this. Not since Casia had he had the chance to actually talk with someone person to person, and not just a mind of the Emperor to another victim or soldier.

Sadly he wished that the disguise provided by the Inquisition was more than just a coat. His head was woefully uncovered and the implants in his head for his psychic work were plain as day. He drew the collar of his coat up higher, in the hopes that no one would notice a lone psyker where he wasn't supposed to be.

He gestured with a hand towards the way off the platform.

"Well then, shall we, Adrianna? This is my first time to this place, so it would be better if you led the way."

---

• Answer question
• Realise futility of disguise
• Gesture towards platform
• Beckon to Adrianna to exit

[GodOfWar]

Holand was mesmerized by the expansive gate sealing the way to the Combine. He had come hoping the arms of this entrance would be open and excepting, but of course, the precautions of the imperium was always to guard every square inch of their industrial under belly.
Distracted, the aging Vostrayan was suddenly swept away in the oncoming current of workers. His confusion only worsened as the shouting of a privileged advisor accompanied the multitude of stomping feet. Now Holand stood, somewhat dizzied, in the middle of the stained alley leading to the gateway. A silk coat strode away from the Vostrayan, as the eyes of enforcers bored into his back. He had to think fast.

"S-sir! Sir! Aw, I finally found you!", the guardsmen cried, trying to look as civil as he could running after the employer of the Combine. "My name is Terminus Lyte, I came as soon as I could. But alas, I guess it wasn't soon enough.", Holand gave a slight chuckle to lighten the mood. "But, anyways, I found my way here for employment. My wife has currently become pregnant with our second daughter, and with a need for an improved apartment and livelyhood, I came to hopefully acquire myself a better paying job here. At the prominent Combine.", the lieing Vostrayan strived to make his act convincing, sugar coating it with a pathetic backstory and even more pathetic begging. "I desperately need the work, sir. Is there anyway I could get a tour of the Combine? I could even do some graveyard shift work, as soon as tonight." Holand desperately hoped this trick worked. The inquisition (and even Warmund) had advised him and the rest of his companions to keep this investigation under the radar, so a sly trip into the Combine was the best plan of action. But still, the guardsman's skin crawled with dishonesty. 'By the Emperor, please don't let this go south too fast.', Holand thought.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Actions

• Run to Combine Employer
• Lie, putting on the alias of 'Terminus Lyte'
• Pray and hope

[Eisenhorn]

Atreides nodded, listening to the man explain how the last owner came to a rather violent end, the grip on the autopistol looking sturdier than average. In the grand scheme of things it would be a far better pairing to his skill with a shock maul than the shotgun would be. Pistol in his off hand could spook some law breakers, not as much as a bolt pistol or hand cannon, but the grip was far more reassuring than what was probably a variant of the local manufacture of a Judge killer hand cannon. Those things had gotten one too many of his brothers in arms to lightly consider taking one up as his own weapon, and they tended to cause as many problems for allies as they did for the enemies. So, as he was about to speak on the matter of bartering his shotgun off for the autopistol and information, the sounds of footsteps got his attention, bringing his attention up in that direction while he spoke quietly so only the merchant could hear him, scanning to see what the footsteps were coming from, at a time like this. "How much for the autopistol, directions to Hab Block 7-17, and what you know on recent cases of vanishing people coming up as walking experiments. Certain persons are not happy about this, if you catch my drift."

Assuming the footsteps did not lead to anyone that would disrupt this deal from going through, the hint he dropped made it merely sound like the man was a Cartel enforcer, like his cover was, and a simple enough matter. Someone stepping on toes they shouldn't be stepping on, owners of said toes were out to make them regret their decisions in life. It was business as usual, really, and not anything unusual. He was going to try cooperation first, and if that failed, he would resort to far harsher methods if need demanded it.

---

Further investigate Autopistol
Inquire on Information
Look for the source of the footsteps

[Pripovednik]

Warmund had always enjoyed simply walking, in fact calming strolls is how he likes to prepare for assignments, it gives you a sense of authority. You can walk alone in the middle of a wasteland with nothing but dust and sand before you, the sun a distant friend, suddenly you are the only thing alive. Or you can walk through an endless river of people and feel like the rock that the flow breaks upon, a great pillar that the waves break against, no more so than as a Vindicare.

Though it was less uplifting when you walked among such filth as these alleys provided, especially in the circumstances of the mission and the time of day. As Warmunds trained ears heard the noises, he crouched down and took cover. He would sneak up and take a look for the source of the sounds.

If anything seemed hostile he would take his rifle and steady himself ready to fire.

[Lone Wanderer]

Arbitrator Alexander Atredies
The sound of footsteps slowly crept closer until becoming more muffled.
"It doesn’t take a savant to see there’s something awry here, honest citizens going missing, enforcer’s doing nothing about it and a narco-boss sitting scared in that bar yonder with his hand out eh?" He stops himself suddenly.
"How much is this information worth to you? As to this here autopistol... I'll let it go for 40 throne gelt... I'll tell you what, give me 50 throne gelt, and I'll tell you what I know and throw in the pistol." You hear his hushed voice at your back, as you watch the alleyway. You vaguely remember something about bribes and sundries.

Priest Rodrick and Vindicare Assassin Warmund
As the pair, Priest and Assassin slowly edge closer towards the opening, the sounds of voices quickly stopped, only the faint sound of breathing permitting the empty air. As the pair peer around the corner, they make contact with the Arbitrator, and an old in appearance man, standing behind what appears to his store front of junk.
"Ah, more new faces. Come, come." He beckons you over to the side of the Arbitrator.
"Not usually this many customers... Perhaps old Sykes is making a name for himself" He says, mainly to himself as he tidies and straightens his dirty clothes as best he can, all with a smug grin across his face.

Guardsmen Holand Tzofiatien
The man, donned in his fine silk long coat, regards the Guardsmen for a few seconds. Not many men, stopped him in the streets lest it was important.

Holand makes a Fellowship check.
Holand needs: 59 (39+20 Elaborate lie)
Holand rolls 5. CRITICAL success.

"Terminus Lyte you say. Hmph, I've been wondering when the new work force would arrive, Emperor knows we need them and you seem like a good man, a family man like myself... The name's Barros, and you'll be working for me. I'll tell you what, since getting past those... Enforcers" He grits his teeth, barely containing his anger as if a bad taste in his mouth.
"Will certainly not let us back out there tonight, like to keep us locked up in here. Tomorrow, i'll give you a tour of the combine, for tonight find a place to stay, you'll most likely find a room at the Third Tantalus Workers Union or the Hostel. Trust me, you don't want to find yourself outside during the night cycle, for your or your family's sake." He forces into your hand a small amount of 5 throne gelt.
"It won't be free. For your family."

Outcast Adrienne Perdito and Pysker Arkaeus Martavan
As the pair depart from the railhead, past the large headless statue and walk among the throng of now empty stalls, fronts and benches of the Trade Markets, Adrienne somewhat familiar with her surroundings leads the Pysker through the sprawl, and down an alleyway which opens up into another somewhat large courtyard surrounded by the mass grey of Hab-blocks, in the center stands your destination. The 3rd Tantalus Workers Union. Vandalised, brutalised and bullet-ridden, the bar does not look like a welcoming place, however it is one of the few places one can find a room to stay for the night and even fewer sell drinks. It's heavy set doors beckon you and yours from across the courtyard.

[Eisenhorn]

Atreides nodded as he listened, the man confirming his suspicion as he continued, stopping himself as he then made his asking price as well as including the auto pistol in that mess. He had two of his fellow Acolytes catch up, but he said nothing to either of them yet, instead focusing on the man before him as he reached for the bribery funds previously provided, since no one else had taken them they had ended up in his possession. Time for their application, as intended, as he put the 50 Throne Gelt down on the counter, and spoke as before as his arms returned to his sides. "50 Throne Gelt, for services rendered."

[Pripovednik]

Slowly, a warm drop of sweat had once meandered down the brow of Warmunds face. It had streaked steadily along his dark burns and he had felt the sharp sting, he had heard the grizzled bubbling and smelt the faint aroma of flesh rise up through his nostrils. His trained hands had been holding his rifle steady for hours on end as he had watched the target making their deviant agreements, waiting for the right moment, the perfect second, when the three guards blinked in unison and the many cameras averted their eyes. As the droplet of sweat had tipped over the edge of his jawline and plummeted to the thick grass he lay in, his finger squeezed the faithful trigger and time slowed to the beat of his heart.

The Target fell helplessly backwards over the barrier behind them and somehow managed to hold on desperately to the ledge, the bullet was not meant to pierce their filthy skin as its tip was wide and flat, instead it bounced to where they had been stood and began its count down. Warmund had watched through his scope as the two guards grappled to help their payer up and over to safety, all the time the coward screamed and wailed - though Warmund heard nothing as he was at such a distance away.

Just as the target, a young and short man, dressed all in white with a deep blue streak through his black hair, planted his feet safely on the floor - the bullet erupted with flame and kinetic energy, an explosion that sent all three over the edge charred and singed into the red river below.

Such a bead of sweat seemed to move slowly down the face of one of the men at the stall as Warmund walked slowly over to his comrade who talked with the apparent vendor, spinning his pistol around in his hands, his cold eyes scanning the group.

"Evening gentlemen, night is almost upon us." Warmunds viscous voice swept across the alley, the nights cold breeze nothing compared to his raw cold expression. He stood beside his ally, but these men knew not of their professional relationship, thus Warmund did not disclose this information - it would seem this lowly salesman is having a good night.

[Lone Wanderer]

The Endgame

With the ultimate failure of the Acolytes mission. Heresy festered, it's root taking hold upon the Hive world of Ascarvis. Uncontested, in the following weeks the entire Corscala Division went dark, while the Inquisition tried in vain to cover up the incident and send the local arbitrators to the Division whom lost contact upon arrival.

Events finally reached it's precipice when twisted, abominations of flesh and metal emerged from the Division numbering the uncountable, the PDF, wholly unprepared for such an assault from within was overran and in the following months the entire planet was consumed by the horde of twisted machines as their numbers swelled, many that survived the initial onslaught lost their minds to the chaos forces that worked in the background, like puppets on strings the world danced in flames. The Logicians had succeed in their goal, they had overthrown the Emperor here, on Ascarvis, but they had higher, much higher aspirations than that. Meanwhile, Inquisitor Lucius, his own Acolytes responsible for such a failure, lost a significant amount of gravitas and power he might have held within the Inquisition, their names now considered an insult towards the Inquisitors choice of his retinue. In response to such an outcome and to save his falling gravitas, he requisitioned all neighboring Imperial Guard regiments, before leading a mass assault upon the planet. It's outcome, unknown.

The Acolytes fates, however. Was more certain. With their miserable display on the surface of Ascarvis, the Acolytes all faced different fates, Warmund and Atreides, the Arbitrator and Assassin were recognized for their unyielding will to continue their mission despite lacking the support of their fellow Acolytes, who simply could not handle it. In recognition for this, the pair was allowed to continue their work under the Inquisition and remain within the Inquisitors retinue. Helana Arabane, the Sister of Battle was slain upon the planet's surface in a valiant attempt protecting fleeing imperial citizens, unfortunately her life was lost but the citizens, able to escape due to her efforts, were ever grateful for her sacrifice and would sing songs of her deeds for time untold. Rodrick, Holland, Adrianna and Arkaeus facing the results of their failure were to be considered unworthy of the Inquisition or of its knowledge imparted to them, and subsequently sent of planet to be executed on Terra itself. However the ship carrying the prisoners has seemingly disappeared within the warp, no more reports are being received, matters are being looked into.

@Pripovednik@Eisenhorn@GodOfWar@DJAtomika@Leolycan@The Fated Fallen@Taugirl It's been a good run guys, it was fun GMing for you all. Hope to see you around the Guild.