Dark Heresy: Amongst the Stars

[Lycan 01]

Know that the Warp goes where it pleases, into man, beast, and machine...


DARK HERESY: AMONGST THE STARS
Introduction:
"On the Hunt"



(Background Music for this Scene (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=su_puw6KLMM))

The sleek black hull of the Inquisitorial gun-cutter slices through the darkness of the void, its twin plasma engines leaving a dull red glow in its wake. The light of the surrounding stars and distant nebula reflect dully off of its spotless surface, while giving its golden trim an unearthly shine in the abyss. The vessel has been sailing the Drusus Marches, a stellar shipping lane of the Calixis Sector, for four days. Dropped off by a Rogue Trader who owed one favor too many, the crew has been tasked with a very simple mission. They are to present themselves as bait, in order to lure out their target - the Eldar Corsair known as Ulthyr Ellarion.

Ellarion has hunted the Drusus Marches for over four centuries, and has been credited with the raiding of thousands of vessels belonging to the Imperium of Man. Many times he has been cornered by pursuers, only to escape or emerge victorious. But the crew of his ship has not been sent to kill or capture the Eldar. No, they have a much simpler, much darker task. They are to meet with him, and transfer ownership of a specific item from their possession into his.

The crew of this vessel is comprised of several agents of the Inquisition. They are Acolytes of Inquisitor Hiram Orlethis, an admitted Radical. Beyond that, the Acolytes know very little about him. He has gathered them from various sources through various - sometimes questionable - means, but they have had few chances to ever personally speak with him. Most of their communication with him has taken place through either coded message or image screen. He is always clad in a black cloak, a white goatee sprouting from what little is visible of his aged and weather face. It was through one of these image-linked exchanges that he issued them their orders, and it was from the Rogue Trader - an old "friend" of Orlethis' - that they received the item.

The item in question is a small black box, lined with strange silver engravings. None of the Acolytes can translate the symbols, though one or more Acolytes may vaguely recognize them. The item is very light, likely hollow... and likely containing something. But there is no visible way to open it - and the Acolytes have been ordered not to tamper with it, on penalty of death. They are simply to deliver it to Ellarion - no more, no less. Violence is to be avoided at all cost; it is imperative that any meeting that occurs should be a peaceful one. Failure to do so will, according to Inquisitor Orlethis: "End very badly for you."

Thus far, however, there have been no signs of the elusive Eldar Corsair. In fact, there have been no signs of anything. None of the ship's systems have picked up any signs of other vessels, life, or any activity. The ship itself is eerie silent, the only ambient noises being the hum of the engines, the subdued binary cheeping of the ship's servitor, and the occasional litany or rite muttered by the lobotomized Psyker serving as the ship's Astropath. Indeed, beyond these two living tools and the ship itself, the only other sources of noise and life aboard the vessel are the students of Inquisitor Orlethis. The Acolytes themselves have been randomly chosen for this mission. Some of them may know and maybe even trust each other, but others may have yet to meet and get to know their knew allies. While it remains to be seen how well the group will function as a single cohesive unit, they will have little choice but to work together if they wish to survive out here amongst the stars...

[Calimos]

Marcus was in his cabin, laying on his bed and relaxing, hands behind his head, mind drifting in wild imagination, even as the guncutter drifted in the eerie silence of the void. He thought of the years that had passed, his time spent in the gangs of Infernis Underhive and absently touched one of the handguns laying beside him in the bed. Metallicans were notoriously attached to their "iron" and Marcus even more so. During his first days of service to the Ordos Calixis, there had been those who would mock him for carrying around so many handguns. Of course, he would be undaunted by such comments and merely look upon those who made them with disdain.

They did not know. Therefore how could they ever understand? He knew though and thus said nothing. His mind then drifted in the time of shady dealings, in the time of his association with the infamous Beast House of Markayn Marches. He had witnessed his fair share of strange things by that time, but his years in the Beast House were even more enlightnening in a bizarre and frightening sense. He gradually grew accustomed to it and gained valuable experience from those ordeals.

Lastly, his involvement in the Inquisition of Calixis Sector, as an acolyte of that old man, Inquisitor Hiram Orlethis. A whole new life experience for a troubled Metallican like him. And a whole new league of things and individuals to meet, to hunt, to kill alongside with an even greater assortment of deadly risks and situations keen to take his life every step of the way.

And now this...drifting in the blackness of the void like some lost soul in the depths of the Underhive...and for what...bait...after all those fething years bait, bait to lure out an Emperor damned xenos corsair to deliver an item to him...and if Marcus had any idea about his travelling companions, he would be the most likely to do the talking. Yeah, since he could talk the talk and walk the walk, as his gang friends use to say back then. And if negotiations went south, there was no man between here and the Golden Throne that could draw faster than him. Then again that corsair was no man...but strange xenos...

He sighed, pushing the thoughts away from his mind and drifted to sleep for some more time.

When he woke up he refreshed himself, changed into clean clothes and took his time cleaning and maintaining his weapons, murmuring the proper rites and praying to the Emperor to grant them His protection during this mission. Then he dressed up properly, fastening the weapon holsters and placing his handguns affectionately in them and walked out from his cabin and to the guncutter's bridge, to see how things were going.

[Saldre]

Opening the door to the cockpit, you find yourself standing before a poorly lit room- the darkness here is oppressive, punctuated only by a scattering of pale glowing lights spread across the various console boards and control panels that surround the room and the faint whirring and clicking of machinery; reminiscent of an insect's scuttling.

Despite this, you cannot help but notice the general disarray spread around the cabin. A multitude of cables seem to hang from screen to screen, console to console, making up a giant web of wiring- tracing them to their source, you spot it hanging in the distance: like a bloated spider waiting for its prey.

The figure's outline is vague and indiscernible, melded together with the tangle of cords. Strange shapes seem to writhe beneath its ragged robes; akin to a nest of serpents slowly shifting in an eerie harmony.

A loud hiss rises from behind you; followed by the metallic scratching of something heavy dragging itself upon the iron floor. Turning to face the sound, you spot, in the corner of your eye, the faint movement of cables swaying almost imperceptibly.

No sooner do you turn your attention back to the Pilot's seat, that you find yourself face to face with a pair of eerily glowing yellow orbs, staring at you, centered in the otherwise pitch black darkness of a tattered hood.

"A VisSsitor... What a pleasant SsSurprise..." A low hissing voice slithers from its depths, punctuated by the incessant chattering of a multitude of claws; "MisSster MarcusSs... How can we help you... today....?"

[Calimos]

Marcus makes a step back and his hand flies instantly to one of his treasured pistols, before regaining his calm and greeting the pilot. He had seen him before and knew he was somewhat strange, but after a long stay in the warp and a prolonged travel in space Marcus was a bit on edge. Coupled with the prospect of their endeavour, well, the ever cool Metallican had grown somewhat more itchy and paranoid than usual...

"Mr Hexx, Achillius Hexx, if I remember well, right? Well, I just couldn't sleep no more and I already finished my weapon maintenance rites so I thought to come to the cockpit and see how the flight is going. Have you encountered anything strange thus far? Any anomalies, any hints of our elusive "business partner"?

[huyche]

One can only guess how or when he infiltrated the small vessel, but when the other acolytes entered the ship Caias had already been inside, sitting in a meditative pose at one of its narrow cabins, a most sinister-looking sword lying across his gloved palms.

His mind, attuned to fluctuations of the warp, still momentarily registered four distinct patterns approach and enter the gun-cutter in consecutive order, but let go unheeded for now. There would be time for introductions yet.

Caias Syth was reciting the Athanatoi Chant of Dissolution, a customary service for its disciples, read once each day for every life one had taken.
Nechoxim attempted to vex him, as usual, taunted his monotone recitative, but Caias, little-by-little, tuned its voice out, temporarily severing the telepathic link with the weapon. The exercise simultaneously served as a demonstration of his control over it, restraining the daemon's ardour for a while, and as means of pushing his mental conditioning to its fullest. Only that way he could be sure his mind won't betray him during a mission.

Finished with the rite and coming fully to his senses, he realised the cutter was no longer docked inside the Rogue Trader's starship, but was in fact floating the vastness of the Void. Enveloped with its comforting calmness and serenity, void-born got absorbed into recollections for a moment.

Athanatoi philosophy set his strivings on a productive track, whereas serving Inquisitor Hiram Orlethis let him bring a modicum of much needed order and dynamic to the Imperium.
Glancing back at events of the past, Caias Syth had no regrets, everything had its purpose that became apparent in due time. Even the agonizing ritual that was possession by a daemon and its exorcism, malignant echoes of which he suffers from to this day. Old he simply would not have been able to perform what had to be done for the better of the Imperium.

Having learned the master's methodology reasonably well during the years of his service to Inquisitor Orlethis, he had no doubts that his addition to this team was no accident. That what seemed to be a mundane contact and delivery operation on the face of it, could rapidly escalate into something brutal and uncontrollable. Due to his specialization in covert ops, infiltration and stealthy termination of the mark (of rogue psykers and daemon-worshipers in general), the assassin assumed this one to be no different.

Eldar... Caias trembled with glee and anticipation, while the Breath sang its vile dirges in unison with his own thoughts. He very much looked forward to meeting the xenos and learning the old-fashioned way whether their reactions and agility were as preternatural as the rumors had told.

He briefly pondered over how the corsair would even recognize the ship to make the delivery or discover its location in the first place, but then dismissed it as something the inquisitor must have taken into account initially.

It was time to check on the other acolytes he was going to work with and so he proceeded to the cockpit.

On his entry into the gun-cutter, the assassin had explored every nook and cranny of the ship, however approaching it now he couldn't help but wonder why control cabin was unlit, even though he could evidently hear the quiet hum of the ship's engines. Entering the cockpit a phantasmagorical picture appeared before him: either a krak grenade went off here, destroying the illumination, severing and scattering the cabling in the process, or his old acquaintance Hexx had decided to make a nest inside.

The little tech freak turned out to be invaluable on a number of occasions, but often had to be reminded of the existence of such thing as personal space. During the one time they had met in past, Caias and Hexx came to a sort of enforced agreement that the acceptable minimum distance when conversing would be the length of a longsword.

Putting on his custom-made battle visor, Caias sights the old spider, sitting amid a weave of wires and cords.
"Spun your web to prey on someone, Hexx?" he asks in an indifferent voice.

Taking a step closer he notices another person standing aside from the entrance.
Middle-aged, a hiver, armed with what looks like a ton of guns. Humph, guns...
This scum are a dime a dozen, what was it that their mutual master had found in the man? Caias will watch this one closely and learn.

He nonetheless gives the hiver a nod of recognition.


Caias Syth is a gaunt man on the wrong side of thirty, of average stature, with long, sinewy arms. His lithe figure is clad into a form-fitting suit of heavily modified synskin. The hilts of two criss-cross sheathed swords can be seen behind his head.
His face is rather remarkable with its pallid, almost transparent skin, a cobweb of veins and capillaries clearly visible underneath. Whats more quirky is Caias' eyes - pitch black, with no whites, like the Void in which he was born. An extraordinary ugly, fresh scar 'decorates' the right side of his cheek, snaking from the corner of the mouth to the edge of the brow, small knots of burst blood vessels accompany its way.
The man walks as if reluctantly, in a slow gait. His motions are deceptively smooth, reptile-like, but behind this facade you can sense the tenseness, the assassin at any point ready to uncoil and strike with deadly precision.

To you Caias Syth is known as STN-16, STN or Sixteen.
Those who had operated alongside him in past may know him by his real name.

Edit: Edit: typos, typos everywhere

[Saldre]

"Trouble sSsleeping? Nightmares PerhapsSs?" Hexx's frame sways from side to side as he hisses quietly, his voice a hoarse whisper worming into the man's ears... "We could presSscribe you a drought..."

One moment, he's leaning over Marcus' right shoulder, the next over his left, his icy breath spreading over the back of the man's exposed neck- you something gleaming in the dark, a needle of some sort- or a blade- as the Techpriest retracts his hand from your shoulder...

At the sound of the newcomer, the glowing orbs momentarily shift to the doorway.

"Merely Informing MisSster MarcuSs of our... Ssituation..." He spits out at the Intruder, like a venomous snake disturbed in its territory, before turning his attention back to the Gunslinger.

"sSssmooth Ssailing- We have yet to encounter anything... or anybody..." He answers the man. "In-fact, The sSstrangest thing on this Journey... remainsSs the mysteriousSs Box..."

"I trusSst you... have kept it sSafe... In your posSsession..." He asks, and you feel the weight of one his cable over your arm; slithering over you as it retracts into the Techpriest's robes..

[Calimos]

Marcus turns slightly - almost in disgust - as the extended cables of Hexx slither on his arms. He distances himself somewhat and turns to face the bizarre tech-priest.

"I have no need for droughts of any kind, other than some amasec perhaps. No nightmares at all, just have slept enough, that's all".

Then he notices a presence in the doorway nodding towards him and returns the nod. It would be the first operational situation of him with STN-16 and damn, the man looked quite detached and cold. Imagine what he'd do to their enemies.

"Well met Sixteen. I trust everything is going well?"

He turned to Hexx again after hearing his question.

"As for the box. It is safe indeed Mr Hexx. I have no wish to tamper with it and hopefully we'll meet that foul xenos corsair soon enough, that we deliver it and get the hell out there".

[Whiskeyjack]

Grendel sits cross-legged on the floor in front of the lobotomized psyker in his little astropathic chamber, greasy curls falling over her eyes as she rocked back and forth. One hand rests on his thigh, the other on the beautiful deck of cards in her lap.

"You, my dear, my droll, my doll, what cards were dealt for you back when the universe ended and you dripped bloody down from that secret hold within your mother's body?"

She grandiosely pulls a card from her tarot deck, showing the lobotomized psyker and closing her eyes, focusing her thoughts through the Warp.

"The God-Emperor, proper or inverted? Discovery and hope or the touch of chaos? What was your last thought, when the las-prick burn burn burned your hops, dreams, loves, and fears straight from your head?"

She places the card down, revealing a body, browned with age and blackened in death, sitting locked within a great throne of gold, steel and brass. The corpse's mouth is open, projecting a silent scream that echoes through the unseen layers of the universe. Before the howling cadaver, a legion of angels kneels, crying violet tears.

"Were you destined to be a bane or a boon? A box or a blade? Little doll, little tool, did you have a fate cut short by the snip-snip of the great I? Needs of many, needs of one, many of one and one succumbs to many..."

She draws the second card and inspects the image: The galaxy burns. A figure stands in ancient armor, wreathed in a billion screaming souls that encircle him like mist. In it's right gauntlet, Holy Terra blackens and crumbles. A demigod's blood drips from the talons. In the dim reaches of the vision, almost an afterthought, a distant howling light fades into darkness and silence. The figure smiles for the first time in ten thousand years. Upside-down. "Fickle fate fetches fresh fun for Father's fledgling flocks...righteous rival revels reverently, reflecting rankled rage."

Grendel turns her head, inclining it in the silence and listening to the clink of unknowable noise. "Ah, poppets dance, speak without moving lips. Twirl, twirl, little doll, for the grand performance awaits!"
She stands abruptly, kisses the lobotomized psyker passionately on the lips. "We shall speak more later, my dear!" She stalks toward the cockpit, leaving the two cards in front of the psyker. In a few minutes, they fade away as if they were never there at all.

[huyche]

"sSssmooth Ssailing- We have yet to encounter anything... or anybody..."
So, his early worries weren't for naught and they in fact were traversing blindly through the void. It was outside his competence and what could he do about it anyway? Except for arming himself with patience and observing how this situation resolves itself.


"Well met Sixteen. I trust everything is going well?"
"The Wheel yet turns," the assassin notes matter-of-factly and grins hellishly, one side of the face breaking into a delighted smile, as Nechoxim fills his mind with violent visions of his last fight.
Oh, Brother Davion gave Caias a lot of trouble, the marine's lightning claw once managed to penetrate his immaculate combination of perfectly aligned evasive pirouettes and leaps, leaving a mark along his face, but in the end the Breath and he gained the upper hand. Even a Space Marine's astonishing endurance couldn't save the fool from the blade's debilitating bites and ultimately he fell under an unrelenting assault of much smaller man's blows.
Catching himself at the fact that the daemon was attempting to further its own ends yet again, Caias temporarily shuts his mind from Nechoxim's corrupting influence, while his facial expression changes into a scowl.


"As for the box. It is safe indeed Mr Hexx. I have no wish to tamper with it and hopefully we'll meet that foul xenos corsair soon enough, that we deliver it and get the hell out there".
"And where is it, agent Marcus?"

[Calimos]

OOC
I'm taking quite a liberty here, following up Saldre's question-suggestion that I had the box. I have no intention to alter anything on your game Lycan and apologies if this behaviour is out of bounds. Just thought that since it was mentioned and given that I'd be the most likely candidate to enact the negotiations with our "partner", I could make up a reasonable explanation and go with it.

"It is safely stored in a hidden safe beneath the bed in my cabin. Small but with state-of-the-art security systems and top notch locking mechanisms. Implements voice-pattern recognition as well as encrypted access codes, that can be filled in only by this ring I'm wearing".

Marcus lifts up his finger, showing a strange ring, with a serpentine engraving upon it.

[huyche]

The assassin brings an arm to his unshaven cheek and scratches the itching wound, then grimaces and takes it away.
"I have a hunch there is more to the package than our master had intimated, it would be better if you kept it on yourself."

[Lycan 01]

OOC: Sure, you can have it boxed up in your room. I think its safe to say everyone's quarters has a private safe/storage box.


Caias:

"You know... Its funny when you stop and think about it, Caias, my dear..." Nechoxim purrs in the back of your mind. "The Tech-Priest, I mean. You humans are so quick to judge anyone and anything that shows even the slightest hint of Chaotic influence, and wipe it out of existence. But that... thing... is lauded as devout and enlightened, just because its an abomination. I mean really, just look at it! It doesn't even worship the same Emperor, you know... hee hee hee..." the Daemon giggles, the sound both alluringly sensual and disturbingly wrong. "Its just so funny that there's such a double standard. I bet your Emperor would be quite happy if something were to happen to that... monster..."

[huyche]

Lycan:
"It is obviously not as black and white as you want to picture it. Everything comes down to a matter of application. For instance, our little 'collaboration' perfectly describes how even a foul thing such as yourself can be put to a use furthering the Imperium's cause. On a different scale the same could be applied to me." He chuckles. "Now, will you stop beating about the bush and talk straight? What do you have against the savant all of a sudden?" Caias retorts, suspicious of Nechoxim's sudden eloquence. "I've never heard him mention worshiping anyone and neither do I care whom or what he prays to, as long as he stays useful and serves the master faithfully.
And why of all things would God-Emperor care about one single insect scurrying about? Besides, its existence proved meaningful and productive so far."

[Calimos]

"Well that might be an option Sixteen but I wouldn't do unless there was no other option. Besides, it will keep away the temptation of tampering with it. I had been notorious about my curiosity back in Infernis, though I must say I've supressed this trait of mine in the years that passed. When it's time for the delivery I'll retrieve and carry it on me".

[huyche]

"Well that might be an option Sixteen but I wouldn't do unless there was no other option. Besides, it will keep away the temptation of tampering with it. I had been notorious about my curiosity back in Infernis, though I must say I've supressed this trait of mine in the years that passed. When it's time for the delivery I'll retrieve and carry it on me".
"Your mistake, mister Marcus. It will be very... regretful if you lose possession of it, due to some sudden and dramatic turn of events."

Decided against posting it the previous way(editing a post), as it is breaking the continuity of the conversation.

[Lycan 01]

Caias:

Harsh laughter rings in your ears. "Why would the Emperor care? You humans amuse me with you hypocrisy. I don't know why he would care, Caias. Quite frankly, I don't care. But one would assume he cares an awful lot about insects, judging by how determined his lapdogs are to stamp out every little trace of Chaos, no matter how mundane or minuscule it may be. Like I said, the double standard amuses me. The small child who's only crime was being born can be put to the flame for being a Witch, but that creature can willingly turn himself into a mechanical abomination and be patted on the back for it. Its just so funny... hee hee..."

"And you haven't heard him prattle on about the Omnissiah? I thought all the Mechanicus dolts did that. Well, the one's I've met, at least. 'Glory to the Omnissiah!' 'Praise the Omnissiah!'" Nechoxim drones in a false monotone, imitating a Tech-Priest. "'Oh Omnissiah help me pleeeeeease hurgurkurk...' Well, they only say that when you rip their respirator systems out, but still, its something they say..." the Daemon muses.

[Calimos]

Marcus turns his head slightly to the side, sporting a grin in his face and answers.

"What would your suggestion be then? I certainly don't claim to be an expert on such things".

[Whiskeyjack]

"Ah, what a cozy little tea party we have in the forest of the fore...hello tisket, tasket, lizard in a basket," Grendel says, eerily cheerful as she enters the cockpit, looking at Marcus, Hexx, and finally Caias as she names them what must be the hundredth set of nicknames. She blinks her blue eyes slowly, the flecks of orange within the irises disconcerting as always, and as they open again, for a second the pupil is that of a reptile's slit, not a woman. Just for the briefest second. She brushes her tangled black locks from her face and smiles broadly, showing the juxtaposition of perfect white teeth and the ruin of black brands across her gums, a lasting reminder of her Sanctioning. Armor swaddled beneath layers of "lucky" rags and a bandoleer of fetish-trinkets (with more than a few bearing obvious human bones and hair), weapons...doubtlessly somewhere, though at hand was her favorite Emperor's Tarot, which she shuffles unconsciously, feeling each card's edge as one might test a knife, or touch a sleeping lover.

"Brainspider hasn't come to play, not yet today, perhaps instead glorifying in decay. Yes?" When not response is forthcoming, she sighs and looks around for refreshment. "This cutter is too small and clean. No little crawlies to reach out and grab. Makes finding snacks quit the ordeal. Wouldn't you say, eggy?" she croons at Hexx. "Yes, I'm quite sure you know and agree with me...though you don't want to show it. But oh, I know, eggy, I know. Soon soon we'll be back aboard a proper ship, with its turgid guts and blockages and all the proper accoutrements."

[Saldre]

As Marcus moves away from the Tech-priest, so does the latter slide forward, moving closer towards him. He leans over the man’s shoulder, the glowing orbs focusing on the ring for a few seconds.

"sSsafe... you sSay... but are you cCcertain?” He chuckles, extending one of the needles of his hand to tap the ring. “I wonder if itsSs sSstill there; PerhapsSss you should make Ssure?”

The tech-priest quietly listens to the assassin and the gunslinger; though deathly still, his outline seems to constantly shift with a life of its own, fueled by the slow crawling of the snake-like cables hidden beneath his tattered mantle.

Upon hearing Marcus requests, he moves even closer to the man; his hood barely a few inches away from the man’s head, his hands (and his mechandrites) hovering ever so slightly above Marcus’ shoulder- the tip of an injector needle gleaming from somewhere nearby.

He leans forward; his voice a cold, mechanical whisper: “PerhapsSs we should hold onto it...” He suggests, as his voice burrows into your ear- though something in his tone suggests that his remark was not a question addressed to you at all...

He does not notice the woman behind him; until that is- she addresses him directly. Surprised, he turns sharply towards her- his head almost twisting before the rest of his body- and recoils back from the Gunslinger, letting his mechandrites trail behind him as he retreats into a nearby corner.

“FocusSs your attention on bigger prey, my dear...” He hisses from the shadows, his voice accompanied by the metallic snapping of multiple claws- following his voice, you spot the familiar glow of his eyes focused on Marcus...

“XenosSs flesh will make for quite the feasSst- they say the Eldar are deliciousSss...”

[huyche]

Your concern for well-being of children I find simply ridiculous, daemon. As for your whining - its rapidly getting tiresome, and I'm definitely not going to discuss the peculiarities of Imperial regime with you.

Does THAT thing strike you as a devout and obedient servant of the Omnissiah? Is poor Nechoxim getting delusional from her long confinement?

"What would your suggestion be then? I certainly don't claim to be an expert on such things."
Irritated from a dialogue with the daemon, agent 'STN-16' just waves Marcus away.

~~~

"Just great... the circus had departed but the clowns were left behind," he mutters to himself, regarding the fourth team member's appearance.

[Lycan 01]

Caias:

I suppose you may have a point. Perhaps I have been locked up in here too long. You could always remedy that by releasing me, of course. Or at least let me out to play for a little while. I promise I won't do anything bad. Well. Nothing you would consider bad, at least...

[Calimos]

"Throne of Terra...where the hell did the Inquisitor find all those individuals...heck, I doubt if they are all sane and sound in mind...Anyway, I'll try to play along and see how this turns out" , thought Marcus.

He shrugged to 16's dismissive gesture, distanced himself a bit from Hexx, warning him to respect his personal space and keep those mechadendrites away from him, if he really treasured them and assuring him that he'd go check on the box's state as soon as possible. He smiled playfully to Miss Grendel, grinning when she called him with yet another nickname.

"Darling, I told you. It's Marcus or Gunner if you prefer. Why put your strained mind to the effort of devising yet another set of rhyming nicknames when you can use a simple one. Come to think of it though, you show a better aptitude at this than even the most imaginative underhive gang recruiter. So, how are you doing in our little excursion thus far? Notice anything peculiar in the Warp, well anything other than our combined majestic presences in that nice cutter?, he added with a smile.

[Lycan 01]

As the cockpit seems to fall silent, a sudden noise is heard. A loud beeping begins to emanate from the control panel, and a bright yellow light begins to flash. Its the Vox system - somebody is trying to hail the Acolytes' vessel.

[Whiskeyjack]

"I sense...someone reaching out, across the depths of space." She giggles. "But I'd bet you can sense the same, dear Marcus."

[Saldre]

At the sound of the beeping, Hexx drags himself out of the shadows, towards the console.

"Our patience has payed off... LooksSs like things are about to get more interesSsting..." He hisses to himself as he stares at the blinking lights.

From the folds of his robe, he extends the tip of one of his injector fingers and presses a button in order to receive the communication and broadcast it in the cockpit.

[huyche]

Caias turns his head in direction the source of sound originates from, the motion unbelievably fast, almost imperceptible.
Certain that he is in no immediate danger, the void-born then shifts his gaze to the tech-priest in expectation of a reaction on his part.

[Lycan 01]

Hexx opens the Vox link. At first, there is only silence. For several seconds, not a sound is heard except for the occasional crackle of static feedback from the Void. Finally...

"ELLO HUMIEZ..."

The deep, guttural voice is decidedly not that of an Eldar.

[Calimos]

"But of course my dear", answered Marcus courteously, aware of the irony in Ms Grendel's words. She was far more perceptive to such things, given her special nature and status, but the vox alert was an indication of an incoming message, in a way that all of them could perceive.

He was glad that Hexx seemed to get away to answer the call. His presence unnerved him and perhaps he'd need a stronger detterent to stop looming over his shoulders with his blasted serpent-like mechadendrites. He focused on the incoming call and awaited anxiously, checking on the others as well.

The voice heard in the cockpit was strange alright...but not strange as to indicate that it originated from an eldar's mouth...no it was degraded and harsh, as if it came straight out from the mouth of an underhive muscleman or worse...

"What the...? Do you get any readings regarding its origins Hexx? Any spacecraft in the vicinity?"

[Saldre]

"We have company... MisSster MarcusSs.... Anything you'd like to sSsay to our new friendsSs?"

As he speaks, Hexx slides himself towards another console and fiddles with it, attempting to trace the source of the signal and the location of the Ork Unknown vessel.

Seeing as he's connected to the ship, Hexx has about a 90 modifier to his tech Use- here's the roll: [roll0] to attempt to use the radars or auspex or whatever they call it these days to locate the enemy ship!

[Lycan 01]

The auspex is clear - its not picking up anything within range. The Machine Spirit of the ship is placid, too. There's no reason it would lie to you...

"DATS A NICE SHIP YOU GOTS DER, HUMIES. WHATCHU DOIN ALL DA WAY OUT 'ERE WID IT, EH?" the brutish voice booms through the Vox channel.

[Saldre]

"Come out, Come out where-ever you are...." The tech priest mumbles to himself; his voice muffled by the sound of his cables trailing behind him.

Hexx slides back to the previous console and taps on the com-link button once more. This time, he leans forward, his raspy voice echoing in a microphone.

"Were sSsearching for sSsomebody, have you sSeen them? An Eldar sSship?" he snickers into it; clearly enjoying himself.

"PerhapsSs you could give us directionsSs, yeSsS?"

[Lycan 01]

"SSSORRY, HAVEN'T SSSEEN DA POINTY-EAR SSSHIP. HEH HEH HEH..." the voice chuckles gutturally. "OOPS. WHERE ARE MY MANNERS? PROPPA INTERDUCTIONS IS IN ORDER. I'M KAPPIN ULK-SKRAGGA, DA TOP FREEBOOTA IN DIS SECTOR. AND YOUZ IZ?"

[Calimos]

"Throne of Terra...these are blasted Orks out there...damn those xenos", muttered Marcus almost to himself, as he heard the discussion between Hexx and the apparent Ork Freebooter.

[huyche]

So, this potential adversary has already identified our ship, yet his remains undetected. Interesting.

LycanLooks like your wish to come out and play maybe be granted after all, only partially though, in the form suitable to me.
Say, daemon, have you encountered orks before? Any of your previous owners, perhaps? I want to see their capabilities - show me.

[Whiskeyjack]

"Ah, Despoiler, ancient armor made manifest, bane of life, ashes blotting out the golden eagle. Perhaps Despoiler was meant to come out rightside-up, and Emperor upside-down. Curious, curious, but what was is what happened, not what pondered. No Harlequin card in checkered finery; more like Hulk: cobbled-up, battered and brazen, full of horrors and ever-roaming the lonely stars."

She sits quietly, looking at the vox. "And where is this lean greenie, cackling into our upturned ears, gleeful in prolonging this game of rat and scythewind?"

[Saldre]

"A sSshadow in the void; we do not detect him- one with the darkneSss..." Hexx hisses his answer to the woman "But PerhapsSs he shall reveal himself... to usSs..."

He turns to the console again and once more activates the com-link.

"I am captain Hexx; here on Imperial BusinesSs, YesSss..." He answers, his voice slithering into the mic.

"And you.. what is your objective in this sSsector?" He then asks the ork "PerhapsSs you'd like to meet... to discusSs it; sSshall we arrange a... rendez-vous... Captain? So that we can Sspeak face... to face...?" His voice trails off into a whisper as he releases the com-link button. He turns his hood, the glowing orbs staring at the rest of the group.

You can't help but feel as if he was smiling...

We'll get a chance... to play..

[Lycan 01]

"OUR 'JECTIVE, KAPPIN HEKS, IS TA LOOT AND PILLAGE AN' HAVE A ROARIN' GOOD TIME. I S'POSE WE COULD MEET FER A LITTLE CHAT, IF'N DAS WHA' YOU WANTZ. 'COURSE, FIRST WE GOTZ TA DO A BIT O'... BUZNESS... HUR HUR HUR..." the Ork Captain chuckles darkly over the Vox.


Caias:

Ugh. I hate Orks. Dreadfully stupid and disgustingly crass, but they make up for it with brute strength and the ability to build almost anything if they throw enough junk on it. Khorne is rather fond of them, you know...

And yes, I've encountered them before. Many, many times. You forget, Caias my dear, that I wasn't always entrapped within this blade. I have fought Orks before. I have slain untold numbers of them, on many worlds in many wars, further back than you can even imagine. You know I can't actually show you anything, but I can tell you a thing or two. I've seen an Ork take a bolt shell to the gut and walk it off, ignoring the hole in his stomach as though it were a flesh wound. I've seen an Ork rip off a Chaos Marine's arm and proceed to beat him into submission with it, laughing all the while. And I have seen unorganized Orks wielding ramshackle weapons defeat the most well-armed and well-trained armies just through sheer numbers and tenacity.

They have something in common with us Daemons, Caias... They never change...

[Saldre]

"YesSs, businessSss; Of coursSse" Hexx replies, tapping his needle fingers together. "Your welcome to drop by anytime then... Were ex(SsSs)pecting you..."

[Whiskeyjack]

"Stealthy ork? Ha. Hahaha. How does one not see the big green musclefungus in the room? How does the little bitty ship not see the radioactive hulk floating in the black tomb, shark-silent next to its guppy self? He claims to be and yet cannot lest our blindness be true or his faith be stronger than an auspex piercing; his house is of cards, or else our folly has delivered us to his kitchen as a sandwich to hungry tusky jaws."

[Lycan 01]

"NAH, YA SEE... I DON'T GOTTA DROP IN. YOU'Z DA ONES WHO'Z DROPPIN IN IF ANY DROPPIN IN IS GONNA BE DID. BUT WE CANZ DO BIZNESS OVER DA RADIO-VOXIE-WHATSIT JUST FINE..." the Ork's booming voice prattles on. "SO, YOU HUMIEZ REDDY TO TALK TURKIE?"

[Calimos]

"Right...set on a course to do business with an Eldar corsair, ending up chatting with an Ork freebooter...what in the name of Terra is going on here? Are we some kind of Rogue Trader wannabes?" said Marcus, chuckling, to lighten the mood somewhat. Xenos were trouble, he knew that from his association to the dreaded Beast House and even a little bit of humour could help keeping their spirits high for whatever was coming towards them.

"Well, let's 'ear what 'es got ta say", he said finally, comically mimicking the xenos' voice.

[Saldre]

"Were ready, masSster Ork- What do you have to offer?" He says, letting his finger trail on the button- the glowing orbs where his face is supposed to be still staring at Marcus.

We have quite a few things to trade ourselvesSss...

[Lycan 01]

"MY OFFER IS DIS..." the Ork leader croons over the Vox. "YOU GIVE US ALL YOURZ SHINY DINGS AND YOURZ DAKKA, AND WE LETS YOU GO. IF YOU DON' GIVE IT... WELL... HEH HEH HEH... I DINK YOU KNOW WHA' WILL HAPPEN."


Pick your response carefully. :smallwink:

[Saldre]

"Well friendsSss.... I propose.... we meet the Captain.... ourSselvesSss- What sSsay the resSst of you?"

He asks the group after releasing the Com-link.

They sSsay Orks know no fear- IsSsn't it wonderful? We get a chance to find out...

He begins to snicker to himself for no apparent reason, his various mechandrites snapping shut like a pair of metal jaws.

[Calimos]

Marcus seemed somewhat withdrawn in his thoughts for a few moments, playing idly with the grip of one of his treasured handguns. Then he snapped out if it and turned to the rest.

"Well, that is quite a mess of a situation. I'd hate to confront those xenos without an army, but sure as hell I aint giving my "dakka" to them, and I don't think that we can reason with them. So what do you think we should do?"

[Lycan 01]

Caias:

As much as I'd love to see this entire team get brutally slaughtered by Orks, I'd rather myself not wind up in the possession of a filthy Freebooter. So I'm afraid I simply must protest this proposed course of action. Are they seriously considering a face-to-face meeting with the "Kaptain" and his crew aboard our ship? Am I really the only one who knows anything about Orks? Some Inquisitors you all are...

I know you Imperials are all about facing the enemy head on for the glory of the Emperor and all that, but really, that's a bad idea in this situation. Freebooters aren't like normal Orks. They've got the best weapons, the best armor, and worse of all, they actually know what they're doing. You might be able to negotiate with them, but more than likely they'll just take your stuff, kill you, and eat you. And not particularly in that order.

[huyche]

The assassin assumes a thoughtful pose.

These orks just had to stumble upon our merry little ship...

LycanHate saying this, but I'm in full agreement with you here, daemon. Even though 'peaceful negotiation' can't be counted among my fortes, its crystal clear that we're on the losing side here and storming an ork vessel of undetermined size would be suicidal. Trying to escape would be equally ineffective, as we don't know in which direction to run from it. Its a stalemate. And stalemates are usually resolved with some sort of drastic actions.
Knowing a few scraps of truth concerning the ork mentality, that course of action exactly would prove to be most effective and eventually make the 'kappin' start taking them seriously. Oh, he will make those stinking brawns-for-brains squeel for interfering with his mission....

Caias involuntarily grins.

For starters, they should feign submissiveness to get a closer look at the opponent's ship. If it is well within the gun-cutter's capabilities to land a crippling shot, to the control bridge most likely, then the resulting chaos surely will provide an opportunity to break away.
Otherwise, they should let the cutter dock with the ork scrapheap of a ship and wait for their 'delegation'. In case it turns out to be more than the team can handle, Hexx, connected to the ship all the while, will decimate the orks on the deck with the cutter's weapon systems and then proceed to deliver as much damage to the deck's bulkheads as is possible, letting them escape amidst the ensuing devastation.
And if fecal matter hits the proverbial propeller, Caias can always sneak off, relying on his preternatural stealth skills and plant melta bombs of his at several important looking superstructural beams. From what he knew, ork ships were held by honest word and duct tape alone and shouldn't be too hard to collapse from the inside.

Coming up with a few ideas, Sixteen shares his thoughts on the matter with the other acolytes.

[Saldre]

"LetsSss let our friend, MisSs Grendel, sSsee if she can sSspot their Sship..." Hexx hisses, waiting on the Psyker to do her thing before he proceeds with either the assassin's first, or second plan, depending on the results of the divination.

[Whiskeyjack]

Grendel sits corss-legged on the floor, drawing a trickle of power through the Warp and focusing it into the Emperor's Tarot as she shuffles the cards slowly, languidly between her long fingers and dirty fingernails.

"Show me, kaleidoscope; show me, kaleidoscope; grow me grow me grow me an an answer. Show me, kaleidoscope. Show me, kaleidoscope. Who and where is the angry fungus cancer? Show me, kaleidoscope, show me, kaleidoscope, the greeny green green. Show me show me show me show me this orky unclean..."

She casts the tarot cards in front of her with a mad cackle, then peers over them to reveal whatever information she gleaned.

Psyniscience -20, spending a Fate to make it -10, TN 50: [roll0]

[Lycan 01]

Grendel:

You reach out with your mind, trying to find the entity you seek. Through the swirling currents of the Warp, you see a light. You recognize its harsh green glow as that of the Freebooter Captain. Its actually behind the ship, following in your wake. You then begin to try and reason out his distance from you...

He is several kilometers behind in the vastness of space. But in space, long distances were actually somewhat short when the size of the starships you're aboard are taken into consideration. Factoring in the size of your own ship, how fast through space it moves, the varying planes of movement in the void. Personally, he's very far away. But in terms of starships...

Oh dear...

He's essentially right on top of you.

[Whiskeyjack]

Grendel's eyes open with a snap, lips peeling back in an awful gasp as her hands collect the cards. "Backy back! Aft and stern! Just a few clicky-clicks behind, trailing the comet's tail with greeny spores! Close! Close!!!"

[Saldre]

"sSservitorsSs are sSso much more articulate, don't you think?" Hexx hisses, snapping his mechandrites towards the woman. "Trailing usSs from behind, not sSurprising..."

He moves a finger over the com-link and presses it once more.

"Captain Ulk-SsSkraga, we accept your bargain- open your loading bay so that we may "drop in"..." He says into the mic- then triggers a visual feed of the gun-cutter's surroundings, as to spot the enemy vessel when it appears.

Our patience was rewarded- a brand new ship to play with, didn't I sSsay that this would be... fun....

He snickers to himself while the tip of the injector caresses the gun-cutter's console.

[Lycan 01]

In the cabin of the guncutter, several video monitors click to life at Hexx's command. They reveal image feeds of the guncutter's wake. At the moment, all they show is the darkness of space.

"WE'LL BE SURE TA GIVE YA A WARM WELCOME..." the Ork captain croons over the Vox. The link then goes to static.

After a few seconds, something strange occurs. In the darkness of space behind the guncutter, a strange ripple seems to waver through the void. A wave of eerie green light flickers and warbles, like some sort of aurora borealis amongst the stars.

And then, it begins to appear. As the waves of green light shimmer through the darkness, they peel back to reveal the sheen of metal. Patches of steel begin to materialize out of the darkness, slowly spreading and joining together. Much of the metal is marred by rust or battle damage, or covered in miss-matched patches of steel. There appear to be ramshackle weapon emplacements scattered all over the surface, ranging from missile batteries to energy cannons bristling with sparking energy coils. As more and more of the metal hulk becomes visible, one would guess - hope - that there won't be much more left to it. The vessel seems to stretch for kilometers... But it appears as though there is no end in sight. The mass of steel becomes larger and larger... and some portions of it seem familiar. Flying buttresses, gothic arches, cathedral-esque spires... The realization finally dawns on the crew just as the vessel fully revealed.

Its a Rogue Trader starship. Or at least, it once was. Now, the patch-work repairs and ramshackle weapon emplacements clearly mark it as being Orkish. Near the bow of the ship, a large hangar door (clearly an Orkish addition) is slowly grinding open. And all around it, weapon emplacements are slowly activating and turning to track the guncutter...

[Whiskeyjack]

Grendel starts cackling. "Oh my, oh my, what a clever trick!"