Heretical Heresy IC

[Henry the 57th]

OOC thread (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?t=265622)

The world of Kymerus. A dirty, backwards world near the edge of the Screaming Vortex, notable only as a minor trading hub between the residents of the Vortex and the outsiders. Devoted to nothing but profit and another day of life, the world, for the most part, lacks faith in either the Corpse-Emperor or the Ruinous Powers. For the most part.

However, for some unknowable reason, a man known only as "The Oracle" chose to make his home on Kymerus, building with magic and arcane sciences a temple to his master, Tzeentch. Over time, the building has come to be known far and wide through the Vortex as the Temple of Lies, a place where those of ambition and stature are often drawn by various means to hear the riddles of their future from the Oracle's lips.

It is by such omens that you find yourselves on the planet. Whispers haunted your dreams, voices spoke in your heads, entrails, animals, and all manner of strange omens seemed to bid you that the time was right for a visit to the Oracle. Eventually, you gave in. Thus it is, by your own means, that you have made your way to the planet.

You stride through a small marketplace, your superior Astartes forms towering over the puny mortals around you, who cower and meekly back away. Their petty and inferior wares look as though they would be of little use to you, even if you were to simply steal them. With vague feelings of disdain for the pathetic humans, you stride onwards.

Fate can be a funny thing sometimes, as you shortly find out. At around the same time, you each turn four seperate corners, only to find yourselves in a large, multi-way intersection. You can each see three other Astartes arrive in the area almost simultaneously.

[ExtravagantEvil]

I stride forward, each step covering the stride farther than that of any man, and I disdainfully breathe in the dirt filled air of this desolate hole of a world, the whispers still nagging at my mind, and twisting like worms through my cortex.

Every step I take, I smirk slightly, at the sad state of existence that these creatures live in, fortunately, I am not confined to such cages, except... by the cage of this damned obsession clinging to my skull. This Virus of thought that steals away mine.

I look left and right and up and down, searching for this temple, for the source of the voice, so that hopefully, it can be sufficiently silenced, or at least sated to head into silence.

[DaedalusMkV]

Szeth walks, as ever, with purpose. Guided by countless castings of the Bones, he knows that his fate lies ahead, at this time, at this place. The way forwards has been marked, and Szeth is never one to turn away from his destiny, especially when it promises glory and power. He gazes on the dirty humans around him with haughty distain, not because they are human but because they are weak and content. Anyone not engaged in an endless struggle to better themselves is worth less than nothing. His attention is occasionally caught by a shiny bauble or trinket which he has not seen the like of before, but he quickly surmises that there is nothing here worthy of being added to his Archive and returns his attention to the path ahead. The Sorceror wears grey armour, chipped and worn by hard use in battle, all symbols of devotion to the Imperium carefully abraded away until nothing is left but smooth Ceramite. After all, one never knows when it might be necessary to pretend to his old Imperial status...

Szeth is rarely surprised. Being able to see the future will do that to you, after all. In truth, he is hardly astonished to see three fellow Astartes closing in on the Temple of Lies. His divinations told him he would not walk this path alone, though they neglected to define his companions. Or... Perhaps rivals? No matter. The Sorceror's right gauntlet brushes lovingly against Tzar'magus for a moment, gaining reassurance from the artefact-weapon's presence, then resumes his stride, weapons sheathed at least for now. An Ultramarine... Interesting, especially given the clear mutations.

After a moment's consideration, Szeth opts to be the first to speak. A small loss of face, perhaps, but unimportant when all there are to see are the pathetic, useless masses of ambitionless humans. Besides, he's never been one to worry about the appearance of power. The substance is always so much more interesting... "Hail, Brothers." As always, the second word contains the slightest hint of irony. "You are here, I take it, to visit the Oracle? I am Szeth."

[ExtravagantEvil]

That knowledge is none of your concern, brother.

I say with a cold tone that could freeze the heart of a Fenrisian Wolf. My senses spark a moment as I start to take in what I can from him. Fearing this may be one of the Alpha Legion, hoping to cut me off, and then cut me open, my words come out with all the silver my tongue can muster

An Oracle you say? What of an Oracle, dear Battle brother? So you tell me that there is more to this lonely world than rock and trinkets not worth a single bolter shell?

I swiftly reassess where I am, tossing my eyes about, with a subtle **** of my head, looking for outs, or hope that my words will reveal what I need most of all.

[DaedalusMkV]

Szeth's horned helm dips slightly as he lowers his head, surprised at the vehemence of this other's response. He ponders for a moment, evaluating responses, measuring probabilities. When he speaks, it is calmly and slowly, ignoring the vehemence directed at him. "Indeed. I am surprised that you tread this path lacking that knowledge; there is little else of value on this forsaken rock." Beneath his ever-present helm, Szeth smiles to himself as he savors the quiet, personal irony; what but a lack of knowledge could lead one to seek an Oracle? Better yet that that lack was in knowing of the oracle at all. The humour does not leak into his voice, however.

[ExtravagantEvil]

Beneath my helm I toss an invisible glare at this presumptuous creature, to step so boldly is not the move of the Alpha's, but he may be more clever than I anticipated

Bah! What use is knowledge of a rock so cold, when there are far more interesting secrets at work worth learning. I came equipped with a worthy scope of knowledge that encompasses far more than you may be aware Szeth. If you plan to form a path by your tongue, let it guide you carefully, Battle Brother.


Regardless of the gall of Szeth's words, I place back upon myself the worthy social graces required in great strain, and the mention of the word "Oracle", I feel the itch at the base of my neck grow stronger, and the whispers repeating this "Szeth" over and over, like blood dripping off of a blade, into a still-formed pool.

Since, Battle Brother, we have a presumed mutual goal of this Oracular mystery, let us, two gracious servants together, seek where the Chaos gods direct such stalwart vagabonds as we.


I say, as I stride forward again, my stance holding a Noble bearing, worthy of a man, no, not a man, a being so immaculate as I, as I track the buzzing and the itching and the echos toward this Oracle that guided me across more than one star system to this, cold, fetid, dead, and Chaos Forsaken rock.

[CalebRoberts]

Artaxis Priamos lopes through the disgusting world of Kymerus with his apeish gait. His glorious armor has had most of the flexible materials pulled out entierly to allow for his slightly unusual new physiology. He leaves his helmet on since the simian face beneath causes more unease then even the death gaze of an Asartes metal face.

As he lopes, searching for the source of the whispers he contemplates.
If only I had more Asartes under my command they would not have all perished.

In an oddly prophetic moment, just as that though enters his mind he comes to a crossroads at the same moment three others in power armor appear.

He rears up to his standing height, his gauntleted hands reaching for his blades, the command to launch into the air on his lips. But they all stand and stare over the milling crowd for a moment.

"This is not an occurrence of coincidence Brothers. I, Artaxis Priamos, too seek this Oracle. I seek vengeance of wrongs done and I seek any way possible to exact this price upon His head."

It is clear to Szeth and Dylphaius that the ex-Ultramarine does not care about their chosen acquisitions of power (sorcery). He simply sees the lethal Asartes he assumes them to be.

"Brother..." he begins, directing his voice to the fourth, silent member of this odd crossing of paths. "...what is your purpose today? Do you follow the whispers as well? Do you seek the Oracle?"

[Vizzi]

Valgard looks towards Artaxis his armour etched with the scars of a thousand battles but fully functional, his movements more fluid than any other battle brother, his armour acting almost like a second skin, shifting slightly as he moved.

He looks around with disdain his hand caressing slightly the massive Reaper Autocannon before focusing on the speaker "I am Valgard. One does not ignore the whispers of the Gods." his voice deepening with amusement "Doing so never end well."

[DaedalusMkV]

Szeth's gaze wanders across the other three Astartes for a moment, considering. They speak of whispers, so they must have been guided. The Will of the Dark Gods at work, then, Fate in motion. In that case, he must accept their companionship for the moment. As Valgard said, the consequences for ignoring the whims of the Gods were never worth bearing lightly. "Ah, very good then. Well met to all, even those without names." The Sorceror barely refrains from chuckling at this point, amused as he is by the as yet unnamed Legionanire's posturing. "Let us continue. We can speak as we walk, I imagine. If you have any questions, I will be pleased to share my knowledge of the subject."

Meanwhile, he focuses his will for a split moment, opening a psychic channel to the three Slaves following a few minutes behind, hauling a collection of lockboxes and chests on a hastily-acquired trolley. +++ I travel with other Astartes. Keep your distance until I say otherwise. +++

I cannot fail the Focus Power test for Thought Sending, even at the Fettered level, and can always affect at least four targets. Target score is 53+40+10+10, or 113. Even on a roll of 100, I manage one Degree of Success.

Going to make some Knowledge checks about the Oracle, the Temple of lies and this world in general.

Common Lore (Choose any that apply): [roll0] vs Int 48. If the test succeeds, automatically add 1 Degree of Success.
Scholastic Lore (Choose any that apply): [roll1] vs Int 48. Ditto for this one.
Forbidden Lore (If Psykers or Daemonology applies): [roll2] vs 48. No bonus degrees of success for Forbidden Lores.

[Henry the 57th]

The group of Astartes, now together, continues down the way that all of them somehow know that they should be going. Mortals, already terrified of the fierce warriors as individuals, push each other aside and trample one another to flee in terror before the dread posthumans as they walk. As of they could escape, should the warriors desire to end their pathetic lives.

Eventually, the group reaches an odd building. It is, by far, the tallest one in the area, and yet it could not be seen until in extremely close proximity. It appears very wide, and yet the buildings around it do not seem to have that amount of space in between them. The building looks white and gold in one glance, then purple and blue in the next. Designs and art change the moment one looks away from them, and the overall effect is that one cannot quite tell what the building looks like. The only constant in the shifting mass is a great symbol of the God of Change, engraved over the vast double doors that seem to form the main entranceway.

When the group arrives, they find someone already there. A Terminator, wreathed in the flies of the Plague Lord, seems to have arrived shortly prior to them.

[Idares]

The sound of turbines and gears fill the air as the terminator armour engages and the hulking mass rotates to face the warband of favoured Astrates.

In a voice akin to the sound of gurgling giant who's lungs have been filled by bile the lumbering entity utters: Ahhh... My sores weep at the sight... of long lost kin. I am Tetanos, the Wastelayer Taking deep sickly interval breaths as he speaks.

He churns back to face the tower, pointing his pillar like arm to the structure. The flies that surround him start to swarm towards it. Then a tunder belows from his corroded helm: Behold! It has beckoned us...

[CalebRoberts]

Disgusting pile of filth is Artaxis' immediate reaction. After a split second though he thinks. Power comes in many forms, and a terminator at that!

"Well met Brother...Tetanos. It has beckoned us all indeed. Let us make haste"

With the plague marine in tow they head for "Oracle"

[Idares]

Tetanos follows the warband, after all, plague flurishes in groups of hosts.

This structure rattles a distrust in me... It is fickle and has no constance to it

He pulls Lepersia, the every afflicting Reaper AutoCannon, to his side.

[Vizzi]

Valgard is amused at their latest companion and ever more grateful towards the gods for the capability to turn off his sense of smell, no doubt any attempt of stealth with him nearby would be an almost instant failure.

"I am Valgard." and with that he remains silent, no other words are needed, especially upon entering the temple before them. Fickle are the gods, bet not to call attention upon himself.

[DaedalusMkV]

Szeth, leading the way, gazes up at the wondrous shifting phantasm covering the Temple of Lies, appreciating the Warpcraft it must have taken to construct such a facade. Such a place must truly be favoured by the Changer of Ways, and that implies great power on behalf of its master. Then, noticing something else, the Sorceror stops in surprise as he catches a glimpse of what seems to be the final Astartes to join his little group. Underneath his all-concealing helm his lips curl in a sneer of disgust at the decaying, fly-ridden creature in front of him. So far fallen, this one, and his allegiance wrought clearly on his features. Szeth has little love for Nurglites, creatures who embrace nihilism and self-destruction, though he does his best not to show it in front of them. Resolving himself, he returns the bulky newcomer's greeting. "Yes, my greetings to you, Wastelayer. I am Szeth. We are this close already; I agree that there is little need for further delays..."

Basic formalities out of the way, Szeth picks up speed and comes to the lead of the group once more, continuing in his role as a guide. Plus, it puts the greatest possible distance between himself and the plague-ridden Terminator following behind. The last thing he wants is to catch some sort of necrotic ague.

[Henry the 57th]

A small, hooded woman emerges from the doors, without their appearing to open. She walks up to you and bows her head. "My lords. You are expected. If you will follow me."

[CalebRoberts]

Artaxis pauses at the doors of the building that is there and not there.

The auspex scanner embedded within his brain pulls up a readout on the inside of his helmet. He searches the building and the surroundings, including the woman that comes out for anything unusual beyond the obvious.

Not seeing anything to raise his hackles, Artaxis strides forth. "We shall follow you mistress."

Rolls
Awareness: 40+20(Embedded Auspex)
[roll0]
Tech-Use: 43-20(untrained) on Auspex to spot things not normally possible to human senses such as invisible gases, nearby signs of life, non-visible radiation, etc.
[roll1]

Failure on both accounts.

[ExtravagantEvil]

I smile underneath my helmet, Lord being a most worthy title to go by, and something I could grow fond of, if I could stand being with this mortal wretch. These two new figures give me pause, especially the terminator, he must have strength, especially in Nurgle's, cold, pus filled folds. His presence causes my better nature to recoil visibly from the pile of detritus in Astartes armor.

I am... pleased... to meet you both, brothers hopefully our relationship will be profitable for one another, except for our senses of smell of course

I toss with a wry hint of sarcasm toward Tetanos.
Again looking, and only looking in it's direction, trying to stay upwind, I toss another remark


But what joy is constancy, oh Battle Brother? I'd much prefer this to a grey artifice, and the colors do catch the eye magnificently.


Finally, noting the woman, I look down upon her and say

Lead us where you will, oh tender to this hall, and let us hope that the path you take is swift as your legs can hope to carry you.

[DaedalusMkV]

Szeth's hidden frown, an inevitable result of meeting the Nurglite Terminator, is only beginning to fade away when he is given more reason to wear it. The Sorceror is outright confused by the actions of his fellow Chaos Marines; at least the Terminator and the Havoc with the unreasonably oversized double-barrelled Autocannon are acting true to form, but the other two maintain a flowery, over-polite demeanor which is utterly at odds with his expectations. What do they want? What could they hope to gain with their obviously flattering words and their oft-repeated "Brothers". Surely, they do not actually believe themselves to be Brothers again... Casting off the chains of brotherhood is what leads us along this road, after all. Isn't it? The Archivist muses to himself as he gestures imperiously for the robed woman to lead the way.

In response to Tetanus and the still unnamed other Marine's conversation, Szeth decides to interject cryptically, "Permanence is death." As though that is supposed to answer anything.

[Henry the 57th]

"And death is just the beginning." says the woman, without turning.

The woman leads you into the temple, the doors opening before you on their own. The interior seems just as random, confusing, and inconsistent as the outside, but the woman shows no difficulty in navigating the twisted corridors. You go through areas where the air is thick as water, where gravity turns on at off at seeming-random intervals, and where doors lead to solid-looking walls that one can walk straight through. Attempts by Artaxis to get an idea of the layout of the area end in total failure and confusion as his machine spits out a confused and incomprehensible load of gibberish.

Eventually, the woman leads you through yet another simple door. A dark-skinned man stands with his back to you, facing an ordinary-looking fire. The man is wearing a fine crimson long-coat, matching pants, velvet gloves, and polished black boots. He resembles a noble of the Imperium far more than what one would think of as an oracle. Nonetheless, the woman bows to him.

"Master."

"Slave." he says, not turning.

"Your guests have arrived."

"So they have. What have you all to say for yourselves, hmmm? The voices want to know."

[Idares]

While following the whench and still in stride Tetanos rolls to face the lithe Dylphaius.

"Joy"?... Constance does not bring "joy", but the sence of conviction... A concept most lost souls seek and I will herald...
Blessed are you my kin, for you are yet to see the artistry of Nurgle open a canvas of flesh... Brown, yellow, green and red might perharps be neutral... colours, but the blend they make presents a divine beauty.

Tetanos gives a deep chuckle that dies suddenly in a deathly coughing.

You speak a truth witch... death is truly a beginning, a truth I am more than willing to teach the ignorant...

Eventhough he is unaware of Artaxis's attempt to recon the surroundings, Tetanos also activates his helm's Auspex in an instinctive reaction to these uncomfortable enviroments

He remains silent, bar his swarming flies and erratic coughs, as the crimson figure speaks. He then gives a short sigh and voices:
It shouldn't be any effort for an "Oracle" to forsee the legacy I harbinger to this galaxy... Your request of self explanation is somewhat dissapointing... None the less, the Plague is intrigued by you and I will follow...


[roll0] vs 35 Tech-use

[CalebRoberts]

"Ha!, it is noting but an weakling man. Tell us what you will before your betters lose their impatience." Artaxis' hand reaches up and caresses the hilt of one of his blades.

[DaedalusMkV]

Szeth finally begins to relax, tension draining away as the other Astartes settle into more familiar behaviour patterns. Yes, indomitable senses of self-worth, arrogant disdain for those lesser, these were proper responses. It seems that the Ultramarine was simply attempting to flatter his fellow Chaos Marines, possibly in an attempt to claim their loyalty or found a Warband at a later time. Much better. Ambition he can work with; actual feelings of Brotherhood would have been very difficult to plan for.

While his fellow Astartes systematically underestimate the man who seems to be the temple's master, Szeth reaches out with senses more metaphorical than physical, doing his best to read what sort of psychic potential the man might have. Even as he does so, he chooses to answer the question presented. "I have read the weaves of Fate, and they led me to this place. I am here by choice, led by my own power. You will give me something that I need, regardless of any other outcomes. These are truths, witnessed by the Gods themselves."


Psiniscience: [roll0] vs TN 40. I don't expect a success, but it would be nice to see one... Darn it, I kind of wish I'd put more XP into Psiniscience. As though there aren't a million different things I wish I had more XP to spend on...

Edit: o.0

That's actually good enough to get a full understanding of the Psychic potential of everyone in the room. Wow. I guess I'm probably figuring out Dylaphaius is a Sorceror right about now.

[Henry the 57th]

"Prophecy is a delicate art, slave of the Plague Lord. You would not understand the specifics of what I do here, but suffice to say that I know exactly what I am doing. As for you, Ultramarine, I would advise against drawing your weapon. In no future in which you do do you survive this encounter. And sorcerer, you come here by the will of the Architect, whether you acknowledge it or no."

The Oracle turns to face the group, looking at the Astartes with a small smile on his face, his hands behind his back. "Slave, take your leave."

She bows. "Yes, master." She exits the same way she came, the door sealing itself shut behind her.

The Oracle stares at the Astartes in silence for several minutes, his brown eyes slowly changing to the purple of the Warp, the slightest whispers in unknown and impossible languages echoing through the room. Finally, his eyes resume their brown state, and he smiles again.

"The Changer bids me tell you this: you will find the key to your future on the place where it all began."

[Idares]

Forbidden Lore: Horus Heresy [roll0] to see if he knows about Divan
Edit: But why??!!! even with a +30 (which I assumed would be appropraite) I still would have failed!


A rumbeling growl comes from Tetanos: I have not traveld solar systems to play riddle games with you warlock! So answer me swiftly... do you suggest where true life began, liberation from the false emporer?... Surely you mean where Horus came to such glorius realisations?

Tetanos sinks into though: "On" a place you say? The only place you can be "on" is a planet and its continents... but my years of solitude wander has clouded my memory...

Tetanos tilts his down to the floor. Where did Horus fall?

[Vizzi]

Valgard stood silent, his long years of wandering across untold worlds and ships left him with a very healthy respect towards those lesser than him, especially when they had power. Something he would likely have considering how the Gods lead this 'eclectic' group to his steps.

As he heard The Oracle speak of his fellow 'brothers' that acted more like simpletons he was amused. As he heard the massive terminator clad Wastelayer speak he grew incredulous, the urge to punch himself in the face rising massively at the stupidity, a snort escaped his control, something he thought impossible considering he was more machine than man.


Forbidden Lore: Horus Heresy [roll0] vs 40+?

This is just my opinion but something as basic as that should not have the need to be rolled, otherwise situations like this happen. :smalltongue:

[DaedalusMkV]

Underneath his concealing helm, Szeth scowls at the Oracle, anger mounting. His reply is savage. "Surely you jest. That is a sentence fragment, not a prophecy. I've heard better attempts at fortune-telling from mortal charlitans without the slightest hint of Warp-craft." He focuses his attention on Tetanus for a moment. "Horus fell on his Flagship, fighting the Emperor. I believe that Abbaddon the Despoiler still holds it in the Eye. But, it would be just as easy to call the Istvaan Massacre the start of the Long War. Or sooner still. Or perhaps 'it' refers to something else entirely. The 'prophecy' is useless without further clarification. Oracle, have you any other words to relay, perhaps visions to provide context?"

[Idares]

Tetanos lifts his head to look apon Szeth.
I have miss spoken Szeth, my rage must have wrenched my tongue... I was talking about where life began, my referal to His Fall I meant his fall from "grace" of the false emperor.

[Henry the 57th]

The Oracle nods and smiles widely, revealing row upon row of shark-like teeth. "Good, good. And yes, there is such a vision. A swampy world, full of rot and degeneration. Air thick and foul. And a rotten husk of an ancient building, with the sign of a serpent carved on it."

[ExtravagantEvil]

I look on, silently taking in all that goes on, my nerves twitching in how he leads us on, giving us half visions, worthwhile chunks without a sparse point. Realizing, at the mention of the serpent could be a craftily worded suggestion back to the Alpha legion, I feel nervousness creep in, touched with fears of the chaos god sent punishments they would unleash for my escape.

A game is always good, always fun, and entertaining. However, this is no game, this stole me away from the stars and the profits of the countless worlds and stars. I ascend to the front of the back, protesting besides Szeth


Enough of your games you rotted husk of a story teller!
How dare you waste my time by running about like this, giving us details without a picture! It is as if to only show a fragment of the sky and ask us to find our way 3 arms across this burning galactic frame!
You shall give us the information Tzeentch has supposedly given us due!


I start to laugh a little to myself as the nerves in the base of my neck, quivering through all aspects of my brain and being give me pause, a laugh that comes in stuttering stops, as I swiftly realize that nowhere is where we'll go without a change of pace.


It seems as if the disciple of Nurgle's decrepit frame has played into your hand, and joined in the game of riddles and faithful guessing, so let me, join in the game, and show Tzeentch "Royal deference".


My voice at this point bleeds with Sarcasm


Where it all began? Where what began? Where "it" began. Where it ALL began, Hmm?
Well, let us see, Oh Dear Battle Brothers, what could it be?
It could be, as our cantankerous friend believed, Where Horus fell, but to set foot onto Holy Terra or his flagship would be madness, more mad than even Dear Tzeentch could recommend!
What then, could we say of where it All began? The center of the galaxy perhaps? To the western edge? To the heart of the warp itself to Dalliance with the maidens of Slaneesh's hordes?

Well, Why not here? This planet. This dingy forgotten rock! Oh the irony, dear battle brothers, if we are lead half way on the Galaxy, trapped in ever growing cycles of confusion, if only to trace our steps back here?



So, oh most worthy and holy anointed prophet, herald of the lord of ever shifting stars and moons and hues and secrets, Give us more than a hollowed out hunk of a shrine than your game playing! If, you would ever be so inclined to do so, in all your magnanimous and clear wisdom.




Command: [roll0]
I know it's at half, but hopefully it'll succeed: 23 to do so.
DICE GODS BE PRAISED!! :smalleek:

[Henry the 57th]

The Oracle's grin simply widens as he listens to the marine ranting at him. When the Astartes finishes at last, he simply brushes some imaginary dirt off his coat. "No."

[DaedalusMkV]

Szeth considers for a moment, wracking his Warp-enhanced mind for the answer, when suddenly he comes to the necessary realization. "Ah, yes, the Gods provide. I recognize that description, with certainty." Realizing that his Alpha Legion companion is in a decidedly worse mood, the Sorceror raises hand in a calming gesture. "There is no need for frustration. The vision that accompanied the words is enough. Our destination is Davin, which I expect our Nurglite friend will be happy to see. Once again, the path is clear. If we can browbeat a starship into transporting it there..."

Returning his thoughts to the Oracle, he considers for a moment. "Clear and to the point, once proper context was provided. Commendable. Take this trinket, in recognition for your services." Reaching into one of the several pouches and packs strapped across his armour, the Archivist withdraws a strange clockwork contraption, composed of thousands of tiny moving pieces, and places it on the nearest available surface. "A puzzle of impossible complexity. Each piece moves all the others, which move others in turn. My calculations showed that in any given state the device allows more than ten million possible moves, with possible configurations being all but infinite. I have no idea if it's even possible to solve it." Useless, if interesting, which is why the Archivist is willing to part with it at all. Perhaps a disciple of Tzeentch will find a use for such a device; Szeth certainly couldn't.

[CalebRoberts]

Artaxis swivels his helmeted head slowly back and forth.

"How does this benefit us 'prophet'? Why should we saunter off to some plague world on a mear sentence from you? You must give us more, you have brought us here for a reason, don't wast our time."

Rolls
Command 64 (if Str or WP is lower), 54 otherwise: [roll0]

Pity the Weak talent
gains a+10 on Command, Commerce, Deception, and Intimidation
Skill Tests when opposed by someone with either a
Strength or Willpower Characteristic lower than themselves.
Unfortunately, the character also has trouble hiding his
contempt from such people and suffers a –10 to Charm Skill
Tests when dealing the same people.

[Henry the 57th]

The Oracle accepts Szeth's gift with a nod. "We shall see."

To Artaxis, he says, "Because you will benefit from doing so. You know my reputation. I see much, and I see that your futures will hinge on whether or not you do this. But if choose to ignore me, by all means, go and die pointlessly against the Storm Wardens. It will be your funeral."

[Idares]

And as the oracle was still hissing his last words to Artaxis the slow paced thumping of heavy Teminator boots filled the hall. With his back now facing the oracle and heading towards the exit Tetanos rumbles:

I have had enough of this mind venom. Time is fleeting! Let us make way to this planetary monument of Nurgle. Perhaps we can find a Reaver Captian or an illicit Rogue Trader at the Spacedocks.

Death by Storm Wardens?..., followed by a belly-full of laughter.

[ExtravagantEvil]

So, we are fated to hop from one colorless rock, to another colorless rock. Truly the fruits of the gods labors shine, don't they?
I say with a sneer, wishing to not catch a pox in the swamplands, and receive our large elephantine friends affections through dark afflictions

I'm sure I can dig around and find a worthy vessel, worthy being a touch of a misnomer, given that it is more likely crafted of dust, detritus, and refuse than actual parts.
However, I deliver services, with consistency and ease no doubt, to anyone who seeks them out, and since Tzeentch has slotted us together from now until the universe falls to the greater powers, once I, and any able-tongued among who think they could somehow contribute, no matter how needlessly small, I say we make our fate-forged pact official, and share of our names.

[DaedalusMkV]

Szeth suppresses the urge to laugh in his fellow Sorceror's face, just barely. "Oh, yes, perhaps we should make this official. As to the names... I don't know if you've noticed, 'Brother', but the rest of us have already deigned to do so. But, there will be weeks of Warp travel with which to plot and plan and make compacts. Gods know, there is no better time for such than when surrounded by the vast ocean of the Immaterium. For now, I see no reason not to start the work of securing transportation immediately. I must collect my Slaves as well; I had anticipated a longer stay on this planet." Seeing no further use for delay, Szeth begins to turn and make his way from the Oracle's chambers. As he makes his way he whispers to himself, [LIST]
"Storm Wardens... Self-deluded fools, less subtle than a Space Wolf in a battle-rage. As though such creatures could ever hope to corner me..."

[Henry the 57th]

"Yes. You have what you need. Slave." The woman enter through the door, head bowed. "Show the Astartes to the exit, then take them to the good captain. You'll find that he will be quite willing to make such a journey." The Oracle smiles again.

The woman bows. "If my lords would care to follow me..." She gestures towards the exit.

[CalebRoberts]

"If I find that you have played us false Oracle, then your life is forefit. If, however, you have put me on the path to vengence then your rewards will be great.

Lead on woman. Take us to the 'willing' captain."

Artaxis turns and follows with his loping, ape-like gait.

[Idares]

Tetanos follows Artaxis as the enslaved witch leads him forward. He realises that further threats to the Oracle will be for naught.

If he wished us dead, he possessed enough wit (even though more annoying than an apothecary) to have known to take us on one by one, before we grouped up, and used this ever shifting maze to run us through. Why waste his time telling us a false prophecy?

No, clearly he needs us as much as we needed him. I do however believe that there will come a time when his intrests outweigh our own and in true fashion, the Ways will Change...

[Vizzi]

Valgard simply nods towards the Oracle as he follows the woman. He knows that he should watch his back and see what is hidden beneath the surface of everyone's actions, the Oracle himself seemed far to sure for any good to come out of him. But the gods willed this path and he would not go against the gods, as for anyone else that stood in his path they would die.

[ExtravagantEvil]

If you must, mistress, take us to this ship. Hopefully it is a gallant and worthy enough craft for me, for I do not travel simply like a common man of a forgotten star, and my arrival on this historic planet of dead air and dead buildings, worthy of our quest, and myself.

I stride forward, taking to the front of the pack, giving an unspoken sneer to each of my "Battle brothers". Tetanos with his insufferable smugness about an insufferable pox and the bile boiling in his lungs that he wears like some badge.
Artaxis, bent low, hung over, in a pose not befitting a Chaos Marine, with it's Knuckles nearly dragging along the floor, in his petty quest for vengeance it seems, with luck it will be of use. Valgard, so self absorbed as to hardly open his mouth, as if his silence sets him on a pedestal above even me! Lastly, Szeth. Szeth. All Snark and No Bite. His remarks, deservedly cutting down the others with a wit nearly as respectable as mine, but to direct it at me, the nerve of him, to besmirch my strength and mental acuity! He shall serve a useful ally, even if consumed more with secrets than their actual use. No pragmatism in his bones.

Regardless, I march on, shoulders held high as I march toward the ship.

[DaedalusMkV]

Szeth, having already said all that's necessary, falls in behind the others. Once again he focuses his mind on sending a short message to his minions, ordering them to reverse their course and return to the spaceport. After this, sensing that if there would be any time for treachery it would be now, as the new, small Warband leaves the Temple, he begins to focus on his future sight, maintaining a small degree of prescience. He sighs to himself as Dylaphaius speaks. Good Gods, how long must I put up with this buffoon... At least the others don't waste time on pointless blathering.


Going to use Precognition at the Fettered level, because the meeting with the Psyker is over and there's really no reason not to. He will Sustain this until we get to the ship or I say otherwise.

Focus Power: [roll0] vs TN 83 (53+10+10(PR2)+10(Psi-Focus)
-With that success, Szeth gains +4 on all Evasion tests. Yeah, Precognition isn't really a big deal but I don't have any other Sustained powers that matter in this situation, so I might as well.

[Henry the 57th]

The woman, as the Oracle said, leads the Astartes from the Temple without much incident, apart of course from the journey back looking completely different from how it did on the way in. She does not speak unless spoken to, and her head remains bowed. It does not seem to adversely affect her navigation, and it seems her witch's senses let her see even with her eyes half-closed and on her own feet.

As promised, she leads the group through the market, the people seeming, it anything, more afraid of the group than ever, with its two new additions. Sellers of food in particular look horrified to see their livelihoods casually devoured and rotted by the massive fly swarm that surrounds the Terminator, but dare not object or even try to swat at the swarm.

Eventually, the woman's winding path takes the group to a small spaceport, and from their into a bar within. She walks silently past customers, most of whom cower before the Space Marines following her. Eventually, she stops before an aged-looking man, weathered and with a head of silver hair. Unlike the rest, he looks unafraid as he looks up from his drink.

"Aye? What do you want, Space Marines?"

[Idares]

Tetanos pushes past his company, moves right up against the veteran and lurches his stare down at him.

Rejoyce human! Blessed be the one with a meanigless life, for they will find a purpose and your purpose has come!"

We claim transport to our destinies and you will steer our chariot. Let us not delay!

[DaedalusMkV]

Szeth follows the Nurglite Terminator, joining in the conversation in an attempt to clarify. "Specifically, we require transportation to the moon of Davin, on a mission from the Gods themselves. W were told that you would be amenable to an opportunity for glory and exaltation such as this."

[CalebRoberts]

"Let us not waste time. Show us to your ship quickly."

Artaxis speaks as though the man will follow the order as a matter of fact. He is not asking, he is telling.

Command Test
Command: 54+10(Pity the weak)=64
[roll0]

[Henry the 57th]

The captain pauses to think for a moment as he considers what is set before him. "And I take it the Oracle sent them?" he asks the woman, in a manner that implies he has met her before. She simply nods. The captain sighs. "All right. I honor my bargains." He looks to the Astartes. "I'm Captain Sahar. If you want to come aboard my ship, you'll abide by my rules. One, don't harm my crew or my ship. Two, don't steal. Three, we get in a fight, you'll do your damndest to help. Anyone breaks those rules, they get spaced in the Warp. Agreed?"

[DaedalusMkV]

Szeth considers for a moment, then responds with a carefully measured tone. "I swear not to harm your ship, nor any of your crew who do not attempt to harm or steal from me or mine. I shall take nothing which is not freely given. If your ship comes under attack, I will personally crush any boarding actions. Any who attempt to steal from me, or attack myself or my slaves, will be killed. Any who attempt to interfere with our mission will face the same fate. Is this acceptable?" The Sorceror leans forward, armour servos straining as he bends over to bring his blank helm into line with the human Captain's face.

[Henry the 57th]

Captain Sahar stares back, with an expression which highly suggests this isn't the first time he's been so close to an Astartes. "Define "interfere with the mission", Space Marine."

[CalebRoberts]

Abraxis' minor power sword is out and humming as it slices into the space between the stupidly bold captain and Szeth. The bare blade is nothing special, thought those who know weapons will recognize it as an ancient model from the time of the Heresy.

"Hold Brother...

Captain! We are bound to the Moon Davin. Any deviation from that destination will be considered interference. We will lend our might to the protection of your ship and crew, in return you WILL take us there with no delay nor detour.

I will personally see to it that your crew and ship remains unharmed as long as you uphold your end of our generous bargain."

[Henry the 57th]

Captain Sahar seems to mull it over for a minute. "The usual?" he asks the girl. She nods again. He sighs. "Alright, Astartes, we have an arrangement."

[Idares]

The bar begins to shake as Tetanos thunders a laughter breaking the tension:

Good! Then it is done! Lead the way human.

[DaedalusMkV]

Szeth nods, horned helm dipping for a moment. "Very good." He straightens up again, armour servos grinding slightly as they reverse the earlier movement. A few moments later, a thin man in old but well-cared-for clothing peeks into the bar.

"Lord Szeth..." His voice is raised barely enough to hear.

"Good, Zwei, you've caught up. Get the others and prepare to load the containers. We are leaving." Szeth waves his hand impatiently, and the man called Zwei backs out of the door, consulting with two other slaves. "My slaves will load my luggage. Let us depart as quickly as possible. Now that we are agreed, there is no need for further delays."

[Henry the 57th]

"Very well then." Sahar says as he gets up. Without another word, the woman who has been escorting the Astartes turns and simply walks out of the bar.

"Damn, that bitch creeps me out." Sahar downs the last of his drink. "Alright, let's be off. My boys should be finished "recruiting" a new batch of crew to replace the deserters anyway."

Sahar simply walks off confidently, pausing along the way to yell at various men (presumably members of his crew) who show insufficient haste in getting up to follow him.

[Vizzi]

Valgard simply follow Sahar in silence, his mind a whirlwind of possibilities, most of them amusingly enough pertaining to his current companions, his eyes scouring everything around him on his trip.


Awareness [roll0] vs 43+20 = 63

[DaedalusMkV]

Szeth follows along as well, meeting up with his slaves outside. In addition to the ragged-looking man named Zwei are a younger, burly man in a mish-mash of clothing and improvised bits of armour put together from a wide range of materials and styles, giving him a patchwork appearance, and a young woman wearing simple, home-made clothing with short, messy hair and eyes that dart back and forth seeking for danger. The burly man, Eins, carries an old, battered Autogun of indeterminate manufacture, which he uses to threaten away anyone who approaches too close to the hand-cart the three cluster around. On the cart rest a trio of large, reinforced storage lockers. As Szeth follows Sahar and the others the three slaves fall in behind him, two pushing the cart while Eins walks beside them, covering the crowd with his gun.

[Idares]

Tetanos proceeds to follow the hardy captain. As he starts to move he notices the retinue of slaves owned by Szeth, then swivels his helm towards Szeth.

Tell me horned-one, what burden is it that you so carry, locked and guarded?

The massive Tetanos then turns his gaze towards the cart and lockers.

And what sway is it you have over these two souls? and extends his huge arm to wave it in the slave's direction in a presentative manner.

[DaedalusMkV]

Szeth seems surprised at the question. For a moment he considers simply maintaining a mysterious silence, but decides that there is nothing to gain by refusing to answer the Terminator's question. "It is my collection. All of the interesting, unique things I have come across in my journeys since I freed myself. I bring it with me, for there is no safer place for it than at my side. I doubt any of it would be of much value to you, but I have always been fascinated by such things." The Sorceror pauses for a moment, considering the rest of the question. "Zwei and Drei were Imperial citizens. I found them while working with a Reaver warband and gave them the choice to swear their lives to me or suffer the fate of the rest of their colony. Eins was given to me as part of a payment for my services by Lord Grathan of the Fleshrenders. Eins, why do you stay with me?"

The burly slave starts, not used to being asked questions by his master. He answers in thickly accented Low Gothic, a barely understandable dialect unique to whatever unimportant world he was born on. "Er, 'cuz yer fav'rd by tha Gods, Lord Szeth. Peeple like me, best we kin hope for is to stick wit peeple like you, so'ze we mebbe get a bit 'o glory fer areselves..."

Szeth nods, as if this is the answer he expected. "Such is the nature of humanity. They serve because they are weak and I am strong."

[Henry the 57th]

Captain Sahar proves as good as his word, and leads the Astartes and a ragtag group of his own men to a large enough bulk hauler ship. "In ya go." he says, simply enough, before moving on his own to a much smaller, but more luxurious-looking, shuttle. In response to the inevitable stares and moans from his own crew and perhaps the Space Marines, he simply dismisses the complaints. He reminds you that he never promised you would travel comfortably.

Indeed, the Astartes do not travel comfortably. Even for those as durable as themselves, the ride on the hauler can hardly be called enjoyable. There is no furniture, just space between crates, and the thing shakes quite a lot. Some of the weaker men on board mouth prayers to the Dark Gods, and a few even do so to the False Emperor (when they think the Astartes cannot hear).

Eventually, the shuttle reaches Captain Sahar's orbiting ship, the Cloak of Midnight. Once the Astartes and mortals arrive, they are unceremoniously told where to go for the voyage. As before, the accommodations show little regard for their exalted status, and are generally unpleasant. Pipes leak, the floor is rusty and even shakes underneath their weight at points, and of course there is no furniture beyond some empty crates and disgustingly soiled mats only a Nurglite could love.

After a few hours, the Cloak leaves orbit. A few days after that, she breaches the barrier of reality and enters the Warp. The journey through the Sea of Souls seems to pass surprisingly quickly for the distance being traveled, as if something were smoothing the way. Or perhaps it is merely the inevitable twisting of the perception of time in the Warp. Whatever the case, the trip proves relatively fast and uneventful, and within a mere six weeks the Cloak exits the Warp in the Davin system.

Not long afterwords, orbit over Davin proper is achieved, and the Astartes are called to a docking bay. Waiting for them is a rather beaten-down looking man, who glumly directs them to a nearby transport. As before, the trip down is rather unpleasant, the sensation almost being comparable to descending in a Drop Pod without restraints. It feels at times like the rickity old pile of bolts will inevitably crash. Thankfully, it does not, touching down not far from the rotting ruins of the ancient Serpent Lodge.

The Astartes begin to walk towards their destination. The swampy wetland has not changed much in the past 10,000 years. If anything, it's worse now than it was before. But that means little to such superhuman warriors, and they press on. After a few minutes of walking, their senses bristle. After a moment, it becomes clear why. In a clearing up ahead, they can see two more of their kind, wearing black armor and white robes. The two other Astartes seem to be having a conversation with their backs to the group, and give no sign of having noticed them.

Roll a Forbidden Lore (Horus Heresy and the Long War) to see if you can identify the pattern of the iconography on the Astartes.

Roll a -30 perception check to see if you can make out what they are saying.

[CalebRoberts]

Artaxis

Rolls
Perception vs 20 [roll0]
Forbidden Lore: Horus Heresy vs 43 [roll1]
Forbidden Lore: Long War vs 43 [roll2]

[Idares]

Forbidden Lore: Long War and Horus Heresy [roll0] vs 35

Perception: [roll1] vs 40 + 10 for armour's Auto Sences -30 for difficulty.

Edit: Spoiler alerted text

[Idares]

Tetanos cared little for the crude accommadations, in fact he found a minute inspiration from the corroded metal pipes and stow-away diseased rats, clearly a sign of Nurgle's favour.

For the majority of the voyage he remained seated, not even leaving his seat to bathe or, even worse, to relieve himself. The only time he spoke was to the crew that would pass him by, speaking words of his revelation always ending his preach with: Remember friend, who bares the flesh, matters not, for all play host to Nurgle's Rot.

On the surface of the moon Tetanos can barely control himself with all the awe he experiences, the thought, the history, the legacy of this place! His euphoria is interrupted however by two other Astrates. He halts, holding Lepersia at firepoint. Seeing them still in conversation, but unable to make out exactly what they are saying, Tetanos's Terminator armour blurs out the background noises from his own warband and hones onto the words of the two foreigners.

[DaedalusMkV]

Szeth spends the first few days of Warp transit locked into his pitiful quarters, casting his bones and seeking to divine the critical elements of the future. Following his efforts he emerges to speak with the rest of his new, hastily-assembled Warband. "I have undertaken several auguries regarding our mission. I can say with some certainty that our mission will hinge on the presence of other Astartes; Dark Angels, both Loyalist and Traitor. Be on the lookout for such." The Sorceror spends most of the rest of the journey alone, sequestered in his room studying several pieces of his Archive while quietly fuming at the disgrace heaped upon him by the captain of this wretched ship. It is not long at all before his thoughts turn primarily to the plotting of vengeance...

After arriving at Davin, Szeth does his best to mask his disgust at the foetid miasma he is forced to slog through, quickly deactivating the scent-receptors of his Auto-senses. Before long he notes the presence of the other Astartes ahead, though he cannot quite make out their words in any detail. Choosing to avoid verbal speech where it might be overheard, the Sorceror focuses his Will and sends a psychic message to the others, the first time he has done so. +++ These... These must be the Renegade Dark Angels my visions warned me about. Be on your guards... They may be important to our victory here, so I suggest that we do not engage them unless they attempt to harm us. But be prepared for an attack. +++ Putting his own words to action, the Sorceror readies both of his weapons. In his right hand he bears a battered Bolter, much more modern in design than the Legion relics his more ancient allies carry. In his other, he bears a strange-looking sword. Seemingly carved rather than forged, the Force Sword Tzar'Magus seems to be made of an opalescent, inky-black material more closely resembling volcanic glass than any sort of metal, at least while it remains inert...

Focus Power test for Thought Sending: [roll0] vs TN 113. Anyone who wants to resist the Power for some reason can attempt to do so with an opposed Willpower test. Targets are the other Marines in the group.

I'll also attempt to begin using Precognition, since there's really no reason not to with it being my only Sustained power that doesn't require a specific target. Fettered.
Focus Power: [roll1] vs TN 60. If successful, Szeth gains +6 to Evasion tests while the power is active. If unsuccessful, I'll try again later.

[CalebRoberts]

Artaxis comes up short in his loping, knuckled gait. "Dark Angles!.......Renegade Dark Angles? Are you sure Szeth? They look like ones that need to die."

Quickly, both the Ultramarine's blades are out. One is the fine, yet unremarkable power sword you have all seen. THe other is an exquisite blade. It is a marine's hand wide at the hilt, remaining the same width until the sharply tapering tip. The surface is engraved with eldritch runes of chaos. Runes crafted to cut through Asartes armor. The power field snaps on as soon as the sword is out.

The jump pack on his back begins to start up.

[DaedalusMkV]

Szeth sighs inwardly, no trace of the sound escaping his sealed helm, then turns to look at his bestial Ultramarine companion and speaks quietly into his helmet-vox. "Yes, Artaxis, I am quite sure that they are renagades. The Dark Angels have not borne that heraldry since the Heresy. I expect they are aware of our presence after that display. Talk to them or attack them, make your choice before they make it for you." Readying himself for either contingency, the Sorceror begins to spin up his own, Mk VIII Jump Pack in case the blue-armoured Champion decides to attack. Or the Traitor Angels do.

[Henry the 57th]

The Astartes before the party, hearing the loud noises, snap around, leveling a pair of bolters in the group's direction. "Halt! Who goes there?"

[Idares]

Tetanos strides forward so that he can be sure he is audible then proceeds to growl: Holster your bolters and step aside Fallen. You hinder me and such obstacles are crushed beneath the boot of my destiny.

One can then hear 2 massive reaper rounds enter Lepersia's barrels and the crack of a power mace's field hit the side of the Terminator's left boot.

Intimidation roll: [roll0] vs 70 Strength +10 for Disturbing Voice.

[DaedalusMkV]

Szeth levels his bolter at the Fallen, holding it in one hand while keeping his Force Sword ready in the other. He's spent a great deal of time practicing using the heavy weapon one-handed, trusting in his armour's servos to help absorb its excessive recoil. He remains silent, though his mind works furiously. Perhaps I should warn them of the presence of Loyalists of their Chapter... Assuming that is what the visions meant. If I promise them protection from the retribution of their former brothers, will they follow my orders? Best to wait and see how this resolves itself before acting...