Thy Fearful Symmetry - Dark Heresy (IC)

[LCP]

Tauron, Tychon & Red

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There was a long silence from the speaker, followed by the electronic crackle of a brief shuffling noise. A more human voice came over the system.

“The guild does not sell documents to the public,” said the voice. “Hab-level maps should be available from the dock officials, sir.”

The door remained securely shut.

[Destro_Yersul]

Looking for a Map

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Deciding to take matters into his own hands, now that introductions had been made, Tychon addressed the grille. "We asked them. THEY told us to come to you. I've got some important business on this station, business which I'm sure that everyone is getting their cut from. I'm not after a hab level map." Folding his arms across his chest, he waited to see what they would say to that.

[Rizhail]

Jericus and Nova

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Nova followed Jericus to the table of random treasures, preferring not to split up while in an unfamiliar and potentially hostile place.

She casually looked over the various items on the tables, letting Jer take his time before she dragged him over to the curiosities shop.

[LCP]

Tychon, Tauron & Red

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There was another pause. Tychon thought he could hear muffled voices at the other end of the line, as if the guildsman was conferring with someone else. Finally, the voice came back.

“Levels outside the hab zones are not open to visitors. Refinery schematics are not to be issued without authorisation by the Board.” A brief hesitation. “Whoever you are conducting your business with should be able to procure for you what you are authorised to see. The Guild is not responsible for hospitality to visitors.”

Tychon had the feeling he was talking to someone who didn’t habitually have to deal with such requests. Whoever was on the other end of the line, the voice that crackled over the speaker seemed to carry undertones of a keen desire to be left alone by these strangers at the door.

---

1

Nova & Jericus

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“Ah! Sir. Mamzel,” said the nearest of the men running the stand, bowing unctuously to Nova as she stepped up behind Jericus. “Come to see our wares? All the way from the Expanse, genuine salvage from the old worlds.”

Running an expert eye over the goods on display, Jericus quickly dismissed most of them as junk – many of them undoubtedly old junk, but junk nonetheless. Here were bearings and rivets of exotic materials being sold as nothing more than talismans, broken fragments of unidentifiable machinery being sold to those too easily mystified by the salesmen’s patter.

There were a few items, however, that drew the tech-priest’s eye. Battered and covered with strange patterns of weirdly-coloured corrosion, a bulky metal gauntlet out-sized most of the other pieces on display. It trailed the decayed remains of some wires and cables that would once have connected to some external power source: they fed into a bulky torc or collar that ran around the forearm-guard, just below the wrist. Mounted on the circular ridge were a dense array of tubes, the tips of sharp metal bars protruding from their apertures.

Behind another of the tables, a slim hoop of metal hung on a brass peg. It might have been a discus or a bracelet for a monstrous arm. Whatever it was, its outer edge was fitted with chainsword-like teeth, their mechanisms hidden within the body of the disk itself – if they had ever moved, their motors must be miracles of miniaturisation.

Finally, there was a third, more unassuming object. A polyhedral box of brushed steel, it was only the size of Jericus’ fist, or slightly smaller. Aside from a small octagonal power-port in one side, it seemed to have no outputs or apertures, its purpose seeming wholly opaque. From the scuffing of its corners and the weathering of its surface, however, it did seem truly ancient...

OOC:

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One of these objects (which one can it be?) can be identified by Jericus with a Challenging (-10) Common Lore (Machine Cult) check.

[Thragka]

Bothering the Handsmen

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Tauron thought it would be worth one last-ditch effort - at least the voice through the grille sounded noticeably human.

"With respect, we do not wish to impugn the reputation of the Guild by implying that they should acceed to every visitor's request. It is simply that, as Mr Kastor remarks, the dock officials' maps are rudimentary in the extreme, as we are sure you are aware. Mr Kastor was made aware of your expertise in the course of his inquiries, and we simply hoped that we could make an honest transaction or exchange for a map made by one who actually cared for the station. If it is a question of security, we can offer collateral." He paused. "We can even offer our expertise, should any of it approach any matters that concern you; Mr Kastor's technological aide is an electro-priest."

[Destro_Yersul]

Bothering the Handsmen

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"Quite so. The gentlemen I am working with, unfortunately, have neglected to provide me maps of a suitable quality. For that I was directed to you. All I want is a map. Once I've got one, I shall be happy to go on my way and leave you alone. I assure you, however, that if I do not get a map, and if I should get lost or otherwise come to harm during the course of my stay as a result, I will not be happy, and shall immediately terminate business dealings with the station." Tychon paused a moment to let that sink in. "I am a very rich man," he added. "I'm sure you know what that means."

That was, regrettably, the gunslinger's best card. If they still said no, he didn't have much else to bargain with.

[LCP]

Tychon, Tauron & Red

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There was a whispered conference at the far end of the speaker. Finally, the voice came again – or at least, a voice. This was someone new, and who spoke a little more confidently.

“Mr Kastor?” came the calm voice. “I am overseer Allam. If you can provide us with the name of the station personnel with whom you are conducting your business, I will see what maps they can authorise you for.”

---

1

Jericus & Nova

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Looking down at the little metal box, Jericus had a sneaking suspicion he was looking at something special. It might be wishful thinking, but the thing’s design matched what he had heard of the sacred Grey Devices – holy mysteries of the Machine Cult.

It might be a clever forgery, or merely a coincidental resemblance of some discarded component of a more mundane machine. Or, it might be the real thing...

OOC:

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For the information Jericus would know about Grey Devices, see p.146 of the Inquisitor’s Handbook.

[Destro_Yersul]

Bothering the Handsmen

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Tychon mentally cursed the overseer. Hopefully, whoever was running the auction had clearance. Surely they'd recieved approval from the Board? He was about to find out. "The gentleman running things calls himself Mr. Fox. I'm not sure if he's one of yours, or if he has his own liason."

[LCP]

Tychon, Tauron & Red

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The Handsman fell silent again, although not, Tauron thought, long enough to get in touch with some other part of the station. There were some indistinct noises, but the speaker did not come back on - instead, a view-slot in the door slid open. Tychon saw a pair of worried-looking grey eyes looking out at him.

With a clunk, the view-slot shut, and the door creaked an inch or two open instead. A young, pallid face leaned out, regarding them with evident nervousness. His right hand was a bulky but functional augmetic.

"Which levels were you wanting schematics of, sir?" he asked. By his voice, this was the first man they had spoken to, not Allam the overseer. "We - we're very sorry for the inconvenience. It's just protocols, you understand..."

[Destro_Yersul]

Actually Getting Somewhere

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Tychon had to fight the urge to smile, settling on something a little closer to a suitably grim half-smile. Mr. Kastor was a serious man, who had technically just threatened these people. "Not to worry," he said, "I knew you would see it my way in the end. I'll be wanting all the levels you can authorise for me, downloaded to a dataslate. I can provide compensation for the slate, if you require it."

[Etcetera]

LCP and Nova

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Erasmus bit the bullet, getting the stallholder's attention and pointed to the cylinder.

"Hello! Friend, how much would you charge me to take this piece of junk of your hands? I'm thinking it'd look good in my cabin, yes?"

Erasmus had a truly inspired attitude to interior design.

[LCP]

Tychon, Tauron & Red

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“No, no, that... won’t be necessary,” said the man behind the door. “If you’ll just wait here, we’ll have it for you as quickly as possible.”

The door clunked shut again. After an interval of approximately three minutes, the nervous handsman reappeared, holding a stack of three cheap, boxy dataslates. He thrust them into the hands of the first person who would take them, still not opening the door any further than was absolutely necessary.

“All there, sir,” he said. “Apologies for the, for the delay... we didn’t mean to create a difficulty.”

---

1

Jericus & Nova

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”Junk?” said the stallholder, approaching with a genial smile. “My friend, this junk’s come half a sector to be here. Genuine archaeotech, unearthed from the sleeping cities of Lomar.” He picked up the polyhedral box, turning it over in his hands. “Ah, this is a very special piece. They found this on a raised altar, you know, in a shrine of its own. Got it from a free trader who’d fallen on hard times. Said he was sure it was some priceless relic... but then he didn’t have the time to get it checked out.”

He set the box down again with a gentle click of metal.

“Artefact like this, got to be worth at least two-seventy.”

OOC:

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Test Barter if you want to haggle him down.

[Thragka]

Team Successful Social Interaction!

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Tauron accepted the dataslates without comment, and decided he wouldn't terrify or embarrass the young man further by turning them on to check the contents right there and then. But that was the extent of Drake's sympathy for him; he felt no guilt about bullying this innocent, because, in truth, if even without realising it, the young Handsman was helping the Emperor's servants realise His will. And what better result could come from a chance interaction with strangers?

[Destro_Yersul]

Team Successful Social Interaction

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"Thank you," Mr. Kastor said, somewhat self-importantly. "I won't trouble you any further, as promised."

Gideon Kastor was a man of his word, even if his word was delivered with a grim and ever so slightly predatorial smile. Turning without a backwards glance, he waved to the others. "Titus. Mr. Bosc. We have business to take care of."

[Thanatos 51-50]

[Team Successful Social Interaction (It probably helped that Red did nothing)]

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Red did as best as he could to look dejected that he wouldn't be able to kill, maim, and burn the entire handsmen's guild and worldlessly followed Titus and Tychon back to the market.

[LCP]

Tauron, Tychon & Red

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Back through the dust-clogged maintenance corridors that led to the Handsmen's door, and one of the elevators in the central spine hoisted them back to the dome level the way they had come.

The market was still in full swing - there was a definite air of revelry to the place now, people flowing from some unseen levels towards the showmen and drinking-dens that fringed the outer bazaar. Still the animals in the metal pens brayed, filling the recycled air with their warm stink.

Spotting Jericus and Nova amidst the bustle and confusion would be nigh-impossible - at least, by eye. However, there was a lot else to see.

[Etcetera]

hurr durr how do i fellowship

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Erasmus held the gaze of the stallholder for a few seconds, waiting for him to make a lower offer.

...

Erasumus sighed, forking over 270 thrones. He hoped he's made the right decision. Ah, the exciting life of the itinerant tech-priest.

Still, there might be a chance to recoup his investment later on. Through entirely legal and honest means, of course.

[LCP]

Jericus & Nova

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The stallholder took Jericus' money with the gleeful eagerness of someone who had not met the "stare in silence" school of haggling before, but was hoping to encounter it more in future. Waiting a moment or two to make sure this particular customer wasn't about to be convinced to buy anything else, he scuttled away to attend to another onlooker.

OOC:

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So, on to Nova and the curiosity shop now? Does Jericus go with her?

[Thragka]

Tauron, Tychon & Red

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Tauron gave a perfunctory glance about the market before turning his attention back to the spoils of diplomacy. "Let us find out just how successful we have been," he said, switching one of the dataslates on.

[LCP]

Tychon, Tauron & Red

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The data-slate fizzled reluctantly into life. Tauron caught a glimpse of an authorisation screen that vanished as soon as it appeared, some code having been entered to put its demands for passwords and idents to one side.

A message appeared in the centre of the screen in flickering green letters.

++LOADING++
++HAVE PATIENCE++

This persisted for about a minute.

Finally, inching onto the screen in slow-loading bars, a three-dimensional image of the station appeared. It was a wireframe model, seeming to correspond closely with what Tauron had seen of 41 Pry on their approach – its internal structure, however, was criss-crossed by a rat’s nest of hair-thin lines in varying shades of the data-slate’s luminous green, until the heart of the thing seemed a solid mass of colour.

He could see passageways and chambers marked with their own schemes, nestling in cradles of pipes and refinery equipment in the station’s bowels. There were the black voids of deep holds, and the dim bulk of massive capacitor banks feeding the ion pump below. Running down the side of the screen were a series of commands and filters that could be activated to get a less overwhelming picture – but their functions were as opaque to Tauron as the complex map itself. They would take some mastering.

Moving the slate to the back of the stack for the moment, he activated the other two in turn. The first was some form of internal documentation, laying out how the station was broken into zones, sub-zones and decks in exactingly technical and unhelpful detail. The second was a map of the Stack, rather less polished than the rotating schematic of the station as a whole – it appeared to have details, however, that the main map lacked.

---

1

Nova & Jericus

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Finding nothing of interest herself at the dubious archaeotech stall, Nova tugged on Jericus’ sleeve, leading him towards the darkened windows of the still more dubious-looking ‘curiosity shop’. Jericus looked in through the grimy plastiglass with some suspicion. He was fairly sure that the cheap fiction on sale in the bazaar contained stories about people being disappeared and made into meat pies in establishments pretty similar to this one.

Nova appeared to have no such reservations. Jericus heard the door open with the discordant tinkle of an old brass bell, and resignedly followed her inside.

It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the low light. There were lumen globes on the walls, but only two out of five were still working – and even they seemed to burn low, shedding light unevenly through the milky glass of their covers. Everywhere their light fell, it cast long shadows from stacks and stacks of strange clutter. Some of it seemed new, while other stacks were coated with thick layers of dust. No two items were alike – he started round in alarm as he heard a chitinous clicking by his ear, only to see a mouse-sized insect staring at him through the bars of a wicker cage that dangled from a hook set into the door-jamb.

Its rubbed its mandibles together, drooling a string of caustic-looking saliva. Jericus stepped back, nearly knocking over an antique vid-picter that stood on a dust-coated hardwood tripod behind him. A tarnished brass plate on its side bore the design of a silverfish - no manufactory mark Jericus was familiar with.

Up ahead, Nova walked between the narrow aisles, gazing at their contents. Here, a rack of metallic-coloured powders in glass tubes; there, a suspended mesh bag filled with balls of a strange, amber-like accretion that glowed softly in the low light and gave off a pungent chemical odour. There, a cluster of strangely-shaped objects – technological artefacts comprising of paired hemispheres of curiously iridescent metal – hung by fine chains from a hook by the empty counter, beneath a plaque that supported a weapon that was either a hunting rifle, a crossbow, or both. Its stock was adorned with a crude, hooked blade, and its body had been ornamented with a set of faded, organic-looking quills.

By the counter – presently unmanned – a leaning and ramshackle bookshelf supported rows of crumbling, worm-eaten books. On the counter itself was a strange little potted plant. Nova had the uncomfortable feeling that the central flower - a bulbous, veiny thing like a cross between a Catachan mantrap and a head of cabbage - was moving imperceptibly to follow her movements.

On the other side of the pokey shop, a curious stone object stood alone on a tiny side-table of its own. Carved from some smooth black stone, it was a strange-looking idol, small enough to fit in a human hand. It resembled a tightly-coiled leech or lamprey, although its its worm-like body sprouted sets of curiously vertebrate-like wings or fins that wrapped it as closely as a rain-cloak. Its circular mouth opened into some dark recess inside the statuette, a gaping hole fringed with concentric rows of needle-sharp, inward-pointing teeth. It smelt of brine and ice.

Attached to its base were a pair of parchment tags – one yellowed and old, the other seemingly new. The older one read “Phagir Polar Expedition, 699.M41”. The newer one said “SOLD: S. Verenwen, for collection on departure,” in the same crabbed handwriting.

Next to it was a shelf filled with racks of smooth, sealed amphorae. Noticing another of the yellowing tags, Nova picked it up to read it.

Index 1775 – Essential Salts
For J. Curwen.

“Careful with that, please.”

The hollow voice nearly made her jump, coming from immediately behind her. Only the strongest restraint of her programmed instincts stopped her from delivering a swift chop to the speaker’s windpipe – instead, she took a moment to master her reactions, and placed the jar back on the shelf, turning to see who it was.

The shopkeeper was a tall, thin man, dressed in austere but shabby clothes that seemed many decades out of date. There was something in the cast of his dark, high-cheekboned face that was strikingly reminiscent of Al-Subaai, although his black, languorous eyes were nothing like the Inquisitor’s piercing blue stare.

“Apologies if I surprised you, mamzel,” he said, in the same sonorous tones. He spoke with a polite, old-fashioned manner. “I did not mean to accuse you of any clumsiness... these vessels are unusually fragile.”

He stepped forwards, reaching up and straightening the urn she had placed back on the shelf by a fraction of an inch. His clothes rustled when he moved, leaving behind a rich, musty smell.

“Is there something here that has taken your eye?” he asked. “I am afraid these items are set aside for other customers, but I am delighted to see customers in my little shop.” He gestured with one long-fingered hand to their surroundings. “Please, feel free to... browse. Or is there something specific I can find for you?”

His eyes slid over to where Jericus was standing.

“Or for your friend, perhaps?”

[Thragka]

Tychon, Tauron & Red

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After passing the dataslates to Tychon and Red as desired, Tauron put them away in his pack, something like satisfaction glinting briefly in his eyes. He took a better look at the closest stalls of the market as he waited.

"So. Our next step, Mr Kastor?"

[Destro_Yersul]

Tychon, Tauron and Red

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Glancing briefly at the slates, and satisfied that at least the ones with maps had what he was looking for on them, Tychon straightened. "Now? We locate the others, and return to the good Mr. Sawney." Mr. Kastor regarded the marketplace, mentally tallying the number of thrones in his pockets. "I have my suspicions," he said, lowering his voice, "about the quality of the merchandise to be found here. Still, we may find a few good shells amongst the spent."

[Rizhail]

Jericus and Nova

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Nova pursed her lips for a moment, trying to decide if she wanted to look around or accept the shop keeper's help in finding specific items of interest. Much as I'd like to wander the store, I doubt we can afford too much time indulging my curiosity, she thought. Best to see if he has anything useful and move on.

"I'm curious about the odd weapon you have hanging over the counter; the one that looks like a bolt thrower of some sort. What is it exactly? And do you have any other interesting weapons like that?"

[LCP]

Nova & Jericus

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"This?" asked the shopkeeper, looking up at the item in question. "A trophy, really. Something one of my suppliers brought back from the Fringe."

Reaching up with his long arms, he lifted it gently down.

"A krootbow, I believe it's called. Carried by xenos savages, working for rather more advanced masters. A crossbow at first glance, but you see the magnetic impellors here, and here." He set it down on the counter. "A cost-efficient way of arming mercenaries, I suppose, but a toy, really - nothing truly curious about it. I mount it up there because it catches the eye."

He spread his hands in a supplicatory gesture.

"Alas, even such toys are hard to come by. I had a very interesting piece recently, but it was collected just today. Obtained to order, you see." He made to return to the krootbow to its plaque. "It's a collector's market, mamzel." There was a significant pause. "Do you collect?"

[Destro_Yersul]

Tychon keyed his commbead, watching carefully around himself for people paying too much attention. "Nova. Location? Done here."

It wasn't a whole lot, but it got the point across. Tychon didn't want to be more than terse over their channel, no matter how secure it was supposed to be.

[Rizhail]

Jericus and Nova

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The assassin smiled slightly. "I am a collector, of sorts. I like to collect seemingly primitive, lethal things. Blades made from exotic materials, strange alien weapons like that krootbow, trinkets and totems made from xenos beasts, and other items of that nature."

Glancing around the shop again, she asked, "So, do you have any curious things of that sort?"

A moment later her commbead beeped. "A moment, please," she said as she tapped the small device.

To all:

"At a curiosities shop in the market. Erasmus is still with me," Nova responded over the comm.

[LCP]

Nova & Jericus

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The shopkeeper gave a thin smile. Nova couldn’t help but feel there was something opaque going on behind his hooded eyes as he waited for her to finish speaking on the comm-bead.

“I do have some items that might... pique your interest.”

Producing a silver key from under his flowing clothes, he turned to a bulky cabinet that occupied one wall of the shop. Dusty and seeming of cheap manufacture, it was only when he opened the doors that Nova realised how massively reinforced they were.

Inside there were only a few items, each standing a respectful space from the next. Before Nova’s eyes, a fat grub writhed in a jar of yellowish liquid, its soft and pallid body ending in a long, stiletto-like proboscis. On the uppermost shelf, what looked like a rose cutting had sprouted in a pot of dark, crumbled earth, filling the glass bell jar that had been placed over it with a strange, skeletal latticework of thorny branches.

Running his graceful hands over the contents of the cabinet, the tall man chose one other object after the other to display.

“If the krootbow pleases you, this may please you too. A Scythian blade.” The thing he held in his hands was a strange, curved dagger, seemingly carved from the claw or fang of some Xenos beast. The edge looked monofilament-sharp, a long groove running the length of the blade. “Probably intended for ritual sacrifice, before it fell into human hands. You see the curious copper canister in the hilt?” He turned it over so she could see. “It still contains a charge of the Scythians’ ceremonial venom. Pressure causes it to be secreted through this groove, like a snake’s fang.”

“Then there is the fusil.” Setting down the blade, he picked up a slender weapon from the shelf. Its aesthetics were strange – though to human eyes its plates and angles looked as if it had been bolted together from scrap, it was made of strange metals with odd, oily colours, and engraved with intricate, worm-like patterns of spirals that must have taken some skill to make. Running in some of the grooves were fine skeins of copper wire, running back to a black lozenge of opaque material that seemed to conceal the firing mechanism.

“I received this from a free trader who claimed he had taken it from strange creatures who stole aboard his ship. He had several such weapons, but this was the only one that survived his ham-handed attempts at modification. You see, he adulterated the breech to take Imperial-pattern plasma flasks.” He spoke with an easy contempt, as if this was the act of some pitiable philistine. “He claimed the Xenos that carried these were strange, boneless things that stowed away in the dark holds, cloaking themselves in shadow. When they were slain, their bodies liquesced into a stinking black oil.”

He held out the rifle for Nova to hold.

“A story that one would be wise to treat with scepticism, but the alien craftsmanship is undeniable. Its mechanism is mysterious even to me.”

“Finally, there is this,” said the shopkeeper, returning the fusil to the cabinet and producing something new in return. A thick but hollow cylinder of plastiglass, it was perhaps the size of Nova’s fist. Its heavy lid was clamped firmly down by three lever-action clasps, a rubberised ring beneath it forming an airtight seal. Inside a heavy liquid metal, like mercury, sloshed against the thick walls.

“The prize piece, I would say. Brought back from the shadow of Molus by an acquaintance of mine. Liquid armour.” He turned the container over, and the metal slithered round in response in a way that was not entirely in accordance with the action of gravity. “They say the tech-priests are still not certain whether this is some Xenos relic, or a life-form in itself. The first explorers found puddles of this material in the deepest places of the ruins there.”

He righted the container again.

“It has many strange qualities. Impenetrable to auspices. Hyper-dense, thermally impervious. And it attaches itself to skin... a living sheath, stronger than carapace.” He placed the container back on the shelf. “This is only a fragment of the original body of metal, but it is still enough to cover an arm or more.” Again came the thin smile. “Even this small amount is precious beyond words. But of course, I am a man of numbers.”

While he was talking, however, Nova’s eyes had fixed on something else. Resting one shelf from the bottom was a cracked and scorched helmet, chewed and split as if by the teeth of a chain-weapon. The glass of its insectile eyes was fractured and broken in, giving it an empty, hollow stare – but something in the back of Nova’s mind still recognised its slender and featureless visor, and its conical, swept-back peak.

It was the face of the ghostly thing that had appeared to them beyond the gate – but the armour of that misty apparition had not been made with the same serrated ridges and barbed curlicues. The visor was split down the middle by a dark slit, and from behind it Nova could hear cold, high laughter, echoing from somewhere in the blackest crevices of her sterilised memories.

[Thanatos 51-50]

Red clicked into his commbead
"Want to be more specific? That represents about half the market.
Also: See any nice guns?"

[Destro_Yersul]

Tychon, Tauron and Red

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"That's useful," Tychon grumbled, looking around at the multitudinous stalls hawking dubious curiosities. "More trouble than she's worth, sometimes. Ah well, no sense standing here doing nothing, yes? Circle the market."

With that, he picked a direction and started walking in it, adjusting his vest as he did so.

[Rizhail]

"It's a shop with an extremely dark front and a sign labeled 'Al-Radhaz, purveyor of curiosities' on it. It's across the path from a large outdoor stall selling salvaged materials. There aren't a lot of landmarks around here, though I can give you directions as though you're coming from the Bridge," Nova replied to Red's first question. "And unless you like xeno weapons, the answer appears to be no."

((OOC: I'm assuming that Nova can, and will, pass along some general directions to the shop. Otherwise, we'll be playing tag in a densely packed market.))

Jericus and Nova:

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Having finished speaking with the others over her comm, Nova turned her attention back to the shopkeeper.

“I do have some items that might... pique your interest.”

"Excellent." She followed him to the bulky cabinet, her curiosity piqued by the odd items stored therein.

The Scythian blade brought a smile to her face. Venomous, razor-edged, brutal. I may have to procure this one, she thought as she looked it over, taking in every detail.

Her opinion of the fusil was not as pleasant. The rough, salvaged appearance of the weapon, combined with its unknown mechanism and use of volatile plasma flasks for ammunition, was met with a frown as she hefted the weapon. I doubt even Red would want to use this, though Jericus might find it interesting. She turned and raised an eyebrow, and the alien weapon, in the tech-priest's general direction before the shopkeeper returned it to the cabinet.

She only heard half of the shopkeeper's spiel on the liquid armor before the broken helmet in the cabinet caught her eye. Time seemed to stand still as Nova stared at it, a mixture of anger and fear leaving her frozen in place.

The shopkeeper had been done talking for nearly a minute before she finally relaxed a hair and spoke again. "Where did you get that?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper. She realized a moment later that her right hand was gripping the hilt of one of her sheathed knives; taking a breath, she let it go.

The fragments of memory brought up by xeno spirit on Abandoned Hope and the cracked helm before her were frightening enough that she wasn't certain she really wanted to see anything else the shopkeeper might have of them, but morbid curiosity drove her to ask anyway.

"And do you have anything else like it?" she continued, her voice somewhere close to her normal tone again.