'R.S. Ophiuchi A/B' - IC

[Talkkno]

The Scum tries to maitian is guts the best he can, holding on to a railing.

Toughness: (1d100)[67]

[♠Spade♠]

Mighty Emperor, spread Your divine light to protect me from the darkness.

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Toughness-10=33
(1d100)[47]

[Ecks Dee]

You're heading in at a good angle, but far too fast - the Thunderhawk, ceramite plating blistering, glowing a menacing red, and causing small spontaneous fires in what few buildings are left standing, skims the surface.

It looks for a moment as if you're clipping enough trees, buildings, and currents of air to arrest your progress - and then you see it. Twelve stories of terraced building, rising impenetrably in front of your position. You brace - pray to the Omnissiah - commend your psychic essence to the Emperor's light - and then hit. As the battering-ram like head of the Thunderhawk ploughs through brick and stucco, it barely feels any different - and then the wings and engines catch, jerk, and give an almighty heave that makes everything fade to black.

_/ _/ _/

You are dead. All of you. Broken necks, augmetic fluid leaking from crushed and mangled bionics, parts of your bodies still burning from spills of promethium. As your souls begin to disperse into the ether, the temporarily still and serene Empyrean, you can tell that you are not alone here.

All around you, you can see the events of the last few hours, compressed into a single frozen whole - the Invincible jumps into the system, even as your Thunderhawk is weaving in and out of Cherenkov fire in orbit, and crashing and burning through Paragon's deserted, war-torn suburbs. And suddenly, life. Living fire, radiant, shimmering, explodes throughout the planet, raining from the sky, flooding the land with an apocalyptic glory. It seems somehow ... frantic. Urgently trying to take over as much as it can, to encompass, warm, and transform as much as possible, before -

_/ _/ _/

You are not dead. Bruised, winded, battered, sure, but not dead. Archilius and the Cleric are even on their feet already - clearly their respective deities gave them a break! The rest have scrapes, but nothing like your vision - much better than you might hope for in an unguided descent through the atmosphere. All thing considered, your ship isn't doing too badly either - its heat resistant armour took the brunt of the massive re-entry burn, and, though slewed round into the dirt, its superstructure seems to be largely intact save a single wing that crumpled as you plowed through the wall.

Out of the thick armourglass window (missing its shutter, scorched, and fogged by a million hairline cracks) you can look around. You appear to have landed in the middle of a large circular stadium, having shot through one of its walls at speeds only slightly less than the speed of sound. It's deserted - no-one's here, and no-one appears to be coming to see what happened to the thousand ton ceramite meteorite that's just smashed into downtown Paragon.

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Spade, Talkkno, Balricaso, you get a level of fatigue and a terrible headache.

[Talkkno]

"Like emerging form cryo...is everyone all right? Euphrati mutters, as he tries to back up, one of his hands on his forehead.

[Balricaso]

I knew there was a reason I hate flying. Grim groans as he undoes his harness, and shakes his head a little to clear his vision, noting that it appears everyone survived the crash.
He immediately begins going over his equipment to make sure everything is intact.
A thought occurs and he pulls out his bio-scanner.

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Tech-Use: Int 45/2= 22.
-10 penalty from fatigue
1d100:30

We'll be sure to have company if we stick around; I don't imagine our crash site would escape notice.

[Lycan 01]

The Cleric twists his head from side to side, popping his neck and loosening his muscles. "Not my best landing, but far from my worst..." he mutters. He then begins to head towards the exit, unfastening the restraints on his weapons for easy access. "I'd suggest we exit this craft as soon as possible. After a landing like that, I'm not sure we need to be in or near this thing if the engines go critical..."

[Ecks Dee]

A great crack runs through the glass on the bioscanner's display screen, but you don't seem to see any injuries detected on its surface. Of course, that might just be the result of your brain suffering massive trauma.

As other members of the crew pile out, you can get a better view of where you are. The concentric rings of terraced seats have the look of an arena, or coliseum, but small touches - the nets, the (albeit tastefully muted) posters, the floodlights - show that it's actually a sports field, albeit a horribly wrecked one now you've finished with it.

Somewhere up in its eaves, a lone bird starts to sing.

[Saldre]

"Hmpf... sSso it beginSs..."

Archilius, still hunched over (despite his armor) seems to drag himself forward. He sticks to the wreckage, avoiding any direct exposure to any light sources.

His eyes scan his surroundings quickly, before he realizes something... He turns to the ship for a moment, looking for his case of miscellaneous drugs.

"YesSss.... this local... isSs not ssSsuitable for my purposSse..." He begins addressing the others from the shadows of the fallen plane.

"Do not forgot... our sSstay here... isSs extended... leaving without our resSssourcesS... or my toolsSs... will not do at alll... no no..." He continues, motioning inside.

"I will verify... if the weaponry here is sSstill operational... If it isSs, we sSsshould fortify our landing sSsite. For thosSse of you... more Ssuitable for the tasSsk... sSscout our current location... and sSecure the pointsS of entry..." He concludes, slithering back the ship and attempting again to evaluate the extent of the damage, and if any systems remain operational.

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[OOC: Tech-use in order to determine this, I assume? If so, (1d100)[21]. Apply this roll to what-ever you feel is necessary. On a side note, I have also checked on the state of our supplies and whether or not they have survived the crash.]

[Lycan 01]

The Cleric strides out of the craft, throwing caution to the wind. He walks out of the shadow of the wreckage, and takes a few paces towards the center of the arena. He draws his two chain knives, and activates them. The ancient archeo-tech blades begin to hum softly as they run idly in his hands. He then begins to twirl them casually, his expert knowledge of blades allowing him to spin them with deft precision. As he spins the chain knives, he slowly looks around the arena, taking in his surroundings and scanning for threats.

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I was scared the chain knives wouldn't be effective or cool when I first got them. Now I realize how fun they're gonna be...

Awareness +10: (1d100)[4] vs Per 30

[Ecks Dee]

The tiny archaeotech blades buzz to life, their blades painful fractals in The Cleric's hands. They've lasted some fifteen thousand years, and work as well as new - a little dramatic re-entry shouldn't hurt them much, and they play through your fingers like silk. As you look around, you can't detect much by way of sapient life - the area is completely deserted, and nothing seems to be coming. Your keen observation does pick up one interesting thing, however. There are four distinct types of combustion identifiable on the surfaces and walls of the building. Clearest is the diffuse darkening from your deceleration, and re-entry - some walls are still smouldering just a little. You can also see the distinctive blackened, linear scorch marks from las-weapons, scattered here and there. So much for the mundane burns. The other two are ... weird. Two or three of the marks look as if the wood, plastic and daub of the structure had been burnt or chemically eaten away, but without any of the carbonisation or decoloration that would imply. Others are filled with a very faintly glowing substance - a little like oil of phosphorus.

Archilius surveys the state of the ship. With all things considered, it's actually not all that bad. The Thunderhawk itself is in a bad way, but not a wreck - small animals, trees, and buildings in a twenty mile streak downflight nobly gave their lives and structural integrity that you might live. Barring miraculous intervention, it's not flying for a while, that's for certain - and even if you somehow got it going, you'd be piloting it without any avionics - the Machine Spirit clearly perished in the descent. Weapons all still seem to be in perfectly functioning order, despite the vented and cooling plasma reactor - including, to the probable relief of all present, a pair of smooth, unmarked, gunmetal canisters of extraordinary mass.

Down in the hold, things are mixed. You have lost anywhere from a third to half of your supplies, but much mission-critical gear remains aboard and in working condition, given a little attention. And, in the armoured prow of the ship, the most well-protected section, there it sits. Glossy grey save for the few locations where burning ashes have dropped down onto it, a perfect, undamaged Land Speeder Storm rests with an evil anticipation, squat assault cannon barrels nestling under its cowling. The words 'Neutra's Hope' are blazoned in slightly darker grey calligraphy across its prow.

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Glad you like the chain-knives, Lycan. There's nothing that says 'I'm gonna gut ya' like a blade that cuts your eyes just to look at it.

[AssassinKing]

Iacton gets out to take a look as well, and trying to see if there is any sign of the warp in the area.I think we should find a food and water source then set up an hq somewhere.This stadium should work fine for an LZ or even a final defence zone if we need to for any reason. I also think we should contact the Invincible if possible.

[♠Spade♠]

Groaning, Victus extricates himself from the cockpit and, gathering his gear, exits the craft. Taking in the scenery, he says "Nice place. Reminds me of...somewhere." Glancing around at the others, he continues "Okay, not how we planned, but we're on the ground. Anybody have any insight as to what attacked us?"

[Balricaso]

Someone with a secret that may well be worth looking into while we're in the neighborhood...
Grim hops out of the Thunderhawk, a little unsteady on his feet at first. Taking his Autogun in hand, he says
What say you, I, and the Father here take a look around. I don't trust this place. Too many place for people to hide.

[♠Spade♠]

"Sounds good to me." said Victus as he pulled his helmet on. Calling to the techpriest, he said "Hey, cogboy! If you find my bag in that mess, there's a vox-thief in it. If it still works, see if anybody's transmitting." Turning to the arbite and holy man, he asked "Shall we?"

[Talkkno]

"I doubt we'll get much, and even then they'll probably be encrypted, but its worth a shot."

[Ecks Dee]

Under Euphrati's and Victus' ministrations, the Vox-Thief crackles into life - not merely an initial flicker, as it turns on, but a hissing, unrelenting roar of interference caused by the star's radiological activity. You might be able to make out regular bursts and 'tap-tap-taps', but they could just be Geiger-counter-like clicks, sifted out from the noise by over-eager minds. Short-range detection and transmission should be very possible, but in this storm, long-range interception is unlikely.

[Lycan 01]

The Cleric nods at Grim and Victus, continuing to twirl his knives without even watching them. "Good idea. Let examine these burns, first, to see if we can find some evidence of what caused them. Specifically, I see some glowing chemicals, and they may prove to be helpful in identifying the cause of all this trouble..." he frowns, walking off towards the nearest burn mark.

[Saldre]

"PerhapsSs it would be wise to prepare... for my eventual... retreat..."

The Tech-priest thinks as he moves towards the crates of supplies and begins putting them in order. He moves around the Land-speed attempting to determine how many of the supplies would actually fit on it.

"ThisSs does SsSlightly hamper... my plansSs..."

He says as he drags himself back-outside to the remaining four.

"Our weapons are in perfect working order... sSso is the Land-sSspeeder... but we have loSst... approximately two thirdsSs of the resSsources..." He informs them, then suddenly changes the subject as he hears something that catches him attention.

"ChemicalsSs you sSsay?" He says, perhaps too eagerly, and slithers towards the cleric- stopping far too close for comfort: his head titling back and forth as the unnatural glow of his eyes centers on the man.

"PerhapsSs a chance to have sSsome fun.. after all..." He thinks to himself, snickering.

[Lycan 01]

"Actually, you check the chemicals. I'm going to check for entrances and exits to this place. I have no doubt we attracted attention, and I would actually be surprised if we didn't soon find ourselves hosting visitors..." the Cleric frowns, beginning to juggle his whirring blades as he casually strolls towards the nearest area of interest.

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I'd like to check the entrances and exits for signs of life or any hints of possible approaching hostiles. And, if possible, setting an ambush would be nice.

Awareness +10: (1d100)[63] vs Per 30

[Saldre]

Once the Cleric points him out in the right direction, the Tech-priest slithers towards the wall in question. He runs one of his Injector-fingers over the wall, before multiple cables exit the folds of his robes and begin to scrape samples from the different burns as he studies them...

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(1d100)[40] Scholastic Lore (Chymstry) and some Chem Use! Success! Also...

[Talkkno]

Euphrati follows the Cleric, murmuring, observing his surroundings.

"Doesn't hurt to have a extra pair of eyes.

Awareness +20 (1d100)[59]

[Balricaso]

Following behind the Techie, Grim scans around for any possible sign of what happened here.

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Search: Perception/2, -10. Target: 6
(1d100)[50]

[♠Spade♠]

Victus heads after the priest and Euphrati, readying his hellgun, just in case.

[Ecks Dee]

The Priest of Mars' chemical expertise - or, earlier in life, his lack of - gives him an excellent understanding of diverse burns, scorches, and singe-marks.

As mentioned before, you can fairly easily identify the flash-burns from the ship's impact, as well as las- or possibly hell-gun shots. It's the other ones that give you pause. The first are utterly chemically undistinctive - they are simply neat-edged, but irregular, excisions out of the wall, with no evidence of heat or burning.

The chemical residues, however, are a different story. They continue to glitter in the light of the now-setting sun - but they're already in shadow. Somehow, still, points of light continue to dance in their surface - tiny dots of colourful fire. If any of you touch it, you'll see that it's coagulated into a jelly-like substance, and seems to 'burn away' as you move your finger near it, causing a tingling sensation in your finger.

Meanwhile, Euphrati and the cleric's search for exits leads them through the still-intact, but bonedry, shower and ablution rooms for the stadium, then out into the world outside. Without is a stretch of parched, yellowing parkland, and, beyond that, loosely scattered suburban and lodge-based development. No-one's there, no signs of life at all - not a single smoking chimney, save what you ignited, and not one electric light can be seen in the dimming evening light. The silence, however, is oppressive - it's too quite, and you can't quite shake the feeling that something is out there.

[Lycan 01]

"Hm..." the Cleric muses, scanning the desolate wasteland before him. "I don't like this. Its quiet. Too quiet. I say we investigate further..."

The Priest begins to leave the arena, before pausing. "There were no bodies. Does that mean anything to any of you?"

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Awareness +10: (1d100)[35] vs Per 30 to notice anything of interest

[Talkkno]

"Its unnerving, its just too neat...its if they all just dissapered off the face of the planet. Euphrati mutters to the cleric, as he searches the room for anything of interest.

Search: (1d100)[74]

[Ecks Dee]

Regrettably, neither of the pair rooting about come across anything out of the ordinary, or of note, but, in this evening darkness, that's not particularly surprising.

[♠Spade♠]

"I can think of a few possibilities, though the scale is too large for some and too the whole thing is too pristine for others. There are some other things just flitting on the edge of my mind, but I can't seem to pull thoughts out of them." Victus shrugs. "With night falling, I say we find an interior room or even one of the private boxes up top to bunk in. We might even be able to find some provisions here. They surely had concession stands, after all."

[Lycan 01]

"She we check the houses?" the Cleric arches an eyebrow. "We may be able to find evidence of what happened, or records of the events that led up to it. Perhaps dataslates or newspapers detailing "current events" left behind..." he mutters.

[Saldre]

After collecting his samples, the Tech-priest drags himself back towards the crashed thunder-hawk.

Once there, he slips inside and begins loading the Speeder with as much supplies as he can fit, Moving the heavier crates with his manipulator Mechandrite.

"There is... SsSomething sStrange here... I wonder what It isSs... sSsigns of a Sstrugle.. but no loSss of life?" He ponders as he works to move his supplies, readying his trip to the Observatory.

"ImposSsible: I can hear them sSscreaming..." He says to himself...