[DH2E] A Thousand Cuts

[LeSwordfish]

Carnodon Territory

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It was surprisingly easy to find a spare space once they ventured into Carnodon territory - the further from the frontline of the passage they got, the less people there were. Every space still seemed occupied though, and the Carnodons themselves were around. There was a certain strut to them - mostly young men, often with noticeable scars or missing limbs - with red bands tied around their upper arms. Most were armed, usually with pistols or sawn-off shotguns, and the armament of the acolytes drew a few eyes. Octavius couldn't help but suspect that Red Alice would hear about the outsiders sooner or later, but nobody confronted them.

Their requests for rooms eventually ended them up with an elderly woman, so shrouded in blankets and rags that she appeared to be a face sat on the top of a heap of cloth. There was a sweet smell of corruption, as if below the blankets she was rotting.

"There's an old pumping station a little to the north." She announced. "But be warned, childs, its cursed!"

"It's not cursed." The young man next to her said. "When it was shut down, they didn't drain the flitration chemicals properly. It just stinks."

"It stinks with the corruption of the warp!"

"A couple of people have had hallucinations when they tried to live in it." He explained, rolling his eyes "Or maybe it's cursed. Who knows."

Mollified by this concession, the old woman nodded, satisfied.

---

The old pumping station did, indeed, stink of chemicals. There was room for the group to sleep and set up around the two massive pumps, but both were, as Arz discovered when he poked his head in and withdrew it quickly, nearly full with mouldering filtration chemicals that filled the room with an oppressive stench. The walls were thick and blocked sound though, and the doors were intact, with a rusty chain hanging from them - if they had a padlock, they would be able to lock the room.

---

Dominik's store was right near the centre of Carnodon territory - had there been any natural light here, it would have stood in the shadow of the compound. At the end of the corridor they were in, a clumsy wall had been built across with scrap metal, and two Carnodons with lascarbines stood on guard. They eyed the acolytes warily, as the men pushed their way through the hanging cloth that marked the door to Dominik's store.

There was none of the 'subterfuge' that had been at Semyovich's store - instead, Dominik was clearly and openly selling weapons. They hung on racks on the wall and were laid out on trestle tables around the room - the merchandise was largely the same as Semyovich's, but the presentation was far clearer. Dominik himself was also a contrast. He was immensely fat and sat on a straining set of spidery augmetic legs, that wheezed and ground as they hauled him out from the back room.

"Who are you?" he asked, suspicion in his voice. "I don't recognise you."

Doctor Aristarkh's

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There were definitely fewer people around as they headed away from the shuttleport and then away from the Caramas passage. There was a corridor of sorts that lead along to Razortooth territory, and the Acolytes headed along it with some trepidation. Three rusty knife-blades had been suspended in the centre of the corridor along what must have been the border: Karpath carefully parted them to continue along.

The first Razortooth they saw crossed their path from left to right, so they only caught a brief glimpse of him, but he was young and strutting. Thick scars traced up and down his bare arms, and he was carrying a pair of bared machetes at his hips. From then on, several other gangers became visible, all in the same mould - young and muscled, walking with confidence, and armed: a hook-axe, a longsword, a belt thick with knives.

The Doctor's surgery was at the crook of the passage, a two-storey building lit by electric lamps. Clearly it was a place of some standing. The doctor's name - Aristarkh - was painted carefully on the door - and lamps were lit within. There was a near-inaudible shout when they knocked on the door - Karpath took it as an invitation and entered.

Aristarkh was a small, middle-aged man: perhaps muscled once, but gone a little to seed. He was washing his hands at a metal sink - Karpath could see that this room, with a few racks of tools, a metal cabinet with a heavy lock, and a clean-ish operating table and sink, was about as good a workspace as a doctor could expect down here. Genevieve instead spotted the decorative notes on the wall - she nudged Karpath and indicated the brass medal in its case on top of the cabinet. It looked guard-issue, and was scrupulously cleaned.

Aristarkh turned away from the sink, rubbing antiseptic powder into his hands and arms. "Good morning. I don't think i've seen you around before." He gave them a practiced doctor's look. "You don't seem overtly injured, but perhaps I can help otherwise." He shook the powder residue off his hand, and extended it to shake. "Medicae Garet Aristarkh."

OOC

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Either of you have Common Lore: War? Test it to recognise the medal.