wanderingwolf

The Namespace of the Rose

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?]

The Namespace of the Rose

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.

The Namespace of the Rose

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]

The Namespace of the Rose

"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.

The Namespace of the Rose

Vigrid had interrogated the fragments of what appeared to be bolter rounds, painted blue. With a seminal thinking sound that emanated from the brute's deep chest, he responded, "This color is not compliant with any Chapter I ken." He then listened to the woman's gathering thoughts, and how this all seemed to point to the Dark Angels--'all' except for the color of this round. The height of the kick on the door, the transference of paint hue matching the Dark Angels' hue, the presence of a bolter...

"Agreed," the Space Marine said, as he took one last sweep of the space inside here. Too many questions, not enough answers except this one: What appears to have happened here is not what happened in actuality. There is more to the story of what happened to the Archmagos; much more than a simple burglary as framed by the Skitarii. Vigrid was still not convinced that the simplicity of the report was not in itself a gambit to throw off potential investigators, as this report, without the presence of himself and this woman, would have become the official one. He knew he needed to discuss this with the Captain of the Skitarii in order to further intuit her motives.

Yet the threads they needed to pull, the biggest thread to unravel, was the expected presence of the Dark Angel; and so the pair entered into this place which was full of cackling electricity, and the sounds of supplication Vigrid was not familiar with. At home, fealty was something pledged and acted out in a wholly different way than the display here in this 'garden' surrounding him and his compatriot by coincidence. The presence of combat practice in this place did, however, set him more at ease as it was a comfortable feeling to be in a place dedicated to the honing of martial skill.

Vigrid scanned the space for the presence of the Dark Angel they pursued for questioning.

P2e - Threshold of Knowledge - [Ended]

@PatientBean Thank you, that means a lot. I've definitely enjoyed GMing here for all of you, and I'm glad we gave this a try. It was a learning experience, and one that I'm very glad to have been a part of. Thank you all for joining me here at the table!

P2e - Threshold of Knowledge - [Ended]

Alright friends, I think it's prudent to call time of death on this one-shot.

I know this may feel like sad news to some of you, but let's review the facts:

1. We tried to keep a posting pace (and discussed freer ones i.e. once a week) that turned out to be unrealistic.
2. We were not able to get consensus from all players on continuing this session.
3. Three out of five players expressed interest but only one has posted in the last 12 days.

As a GM, my vision was for this game to be a quick paced RP session, but I wasn't able to achieve that here. Play by post games, by asynchronous nature, stretch out over months in the blink of an eye. This drawn out style of table top game is not as enjoyable for me to GM when we don't have time constraints keeping the energy alive.

For these reasons I've decided to call it on [OOC] P2e - Threshold of Knowledge.

Thank you all for playing, and I wish you all the best of luck in your future writing!

The Namespace of the Rose

The woman espoused her gut feeling. It seemed that she relied on such things heavily. Her eyes were calculating trajectories, spotting flecks of paint, and ordering events keenly. Both eyes, not just the metal one. Vigrid watched her glistening gears turn with ease as he might watch a foe to predict their next move.

She was right, it didn't sit well. 'It' being the Skitarii's grasp of what happened here. It was a snake of a thread writhing its head at them, begging them to pull it a little farther. He unfocused his eyes for a moment, considering a wider picture. Maybe, just maybe, even the report he'd been handed as he ascended the tower was itself a play to obfuscate what really happened here. Everything must go. Even the events as they had been relayed to him. Fresh eyes.

When she said she could reach out to others who knew more, he nodded.

The trash chute. It was plain to the Astartes that the cogitators had been abandoned (or preserved?) by casting them into the trash chute. These glorious machines had been uprooted and cast into the refuse. Two thoughts ran through Vigrid's mind:

1. The assassin could have jettisoned the cogitators as a gambit to walk freely through the same door they entered. This sat well with the Space Marine. This whole mess never felt like a burglary.
2. The cogitators have been placed in a safe place to be collected later: the trash chute. Wherever this chute led, it's possible that the assassin had the intention of recovering them from a safer, and less guarded, location--rather than walk out the door or repel down the tower's exterior.

The latter possibility caused Vigrid to grind his teeth. It was a loose end that would need to be accounted for. As he turned back to the room, his organs cried out. This whole scene was replete with myriad loose ends and writhing false leads.

He relayed his discovery. "The holy cogitators have been ripped from the Archmagos' console and discarded into this trash chute." The Marine held up a remnant piece as proof of his pronouncement.

"I fear," his voice resembled gravel, "the cogitators may have been 'placed' in the garbage to be retrieved from the bowels of the tower. But I am not convinced this isn't a vapor cloud to muddy the trail."

The Namespace of the Rose

"Hrmph," the Space Marine expelled air incredulously at the claim to be able to deign the future in the entrails of a recently deceased rodent. Eyes were faulty. Eyes could not see anything like the Omophagea could suss out of the thoughts and feelings of the deceased. Though, admittedly, Vigrid had not attempted to consume any rodent to his knowledge. Ramona had implanted a curious, but obviously erroneous idea. No way eating rat-guts could tell the future. Even the consideration of a thought like that was heresy. Probably.

Vigrid considered what the woman posited. "Such a coincidence irks me. It is possible that there were more than one assailant, though I see no evidence of it yet." The broken glass was probably an egress, right? That 'probably' again. A second shooter could explain the inhuman speed of catching the Archmagos while teleporting... "Perhaps the broken window may not have been the escape route after all..." Vigrid mused, though he didn't put much thought into the sentiment.

When he considered the displacer field, Vigrid came up empty. In the lurch, he ventured a question to his cohort-by-proximity. "Do you know anything about Displacer Fields?" He didn't wait for her response, before moving to the cogitators for a closer look. Something felt off about them.

The brute moved to the cogitators, investigating the broken window in passing when he considered how heavy these machines were. A heavy burden, indeed. And all the way down the Ivory Tower. But what if... What if the machines never left this chamber? [Spend 1 point in Data Recovery]

Blackguards!

16 days is a long time to go without logging in for @Red Wizard :(