Black Crusade IC

[Henry the 57th]

Katria hears the following:

"But my lord I-"

A brief silence.

"Yes, lord."

The man looks around nervously.

[Donan]

The former assassin waits, but adjusts her microbead so it can also pick up any further conversation and trasmit it to Zasz. She looks around, attempting to follow the man's gaze in case it has a particular target.

[Henry the 57th]

The man is gripping his lasgun tightly and praying to Lorgar under his breath while watching Zasz intently.

[Donan]

Katria grits her teeth and puts a hand on the hilt of her power sword, attempting to sub vocally speak to Zasz without the man below her hearing.

"Grandpa.. he's staring at you and it feels bad. Let me kill. Others may be coming."

[Lucretia]

Micro-bead: "It would be an act of the Gods for his weapons to get through my armour and hide, little one. I do not know where you are, but if you wish to remain away, I will not blame you. But there is no need to murder, not when we are guests aboard their ship."

[Henry the 57th]

The Word Bearer screams in rage as he hears Slathissin overtake him. He draws his chainsword in a practiced motion and swings wildly.

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(1d100)[72] vs. 25

[Donan]

"Not him. He's guiding others, I feel it." She shifts, her unease pushing her onto a trigger edge.

[Lucretia]

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Ret-conned 'cause he's talkin'.

External: "Names have powers when they are from the Warp, perhaps. But you know my name is Zasz -- what power does that give you over me? Or do you refer to the power of saying 'hello, Zasz'? If so, then mortal names are a fair shake lesser than their daemonic brethren!" He had a boom laugh here. Come, though, let us speak more on the matter near some sort of buffet, shall we? I hunger!"

With that, Zasz would begin to move away and towards wherever it was they served food, although walking slowly enough that Katria would be able to catch up if she so chose. Zasz truly didn't know where she was, and he wouldn't allow her to get into any trouble as she had while he was under the knife, so to speak.

[Henry the 57th]

The man grips a pendant around his neck in the symbol of the Word Bearers, continuing his muttered prayers to Lorgar.

[Elurindel]

He licks his lips, feeling the kill impending as the son of Lorgar swings blindly, following up with another smashing blow.

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WS 61+30 All Out (1d100)[94] Arg, a miss unless I get a bonus for him being blind.

[Donan]

Katria settled slightly as Zasz began to move away, but still remained on her vigil, waiting for the serf's own reaction.

[Henry the 57th]

The serf slowly begins to creep after Zasz, whispering his movement and stated intent into his microbead.

...

The Word Bearer swings again.

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(1d100)[55] vs. 25

[watupwithdat]

Chronologically between Zasz asking and Katria leaving:

The Death Guard Zasz, asking him about artifacts he so casually had destroyed before? "Knowledge and power, Zasz. They often hold knowledge, power in some form or both as knowledge itself is power." He doubted Zasz would understand, considering how he himself fought, head-on with that large suit of his, not even bothering to evade or parry projectiles and strikes aimed at him. "If you know something about some one else, you have power over them." he continued. "You are aware of how names can hold power over daemons? It is the same principle." Setesh doubted the lecture would stick, but he felt inclined to educate one such as he. Maybe the human girl would pick something up, aswell.

After Katria leaving, Zasz asking what Setesh was saying:

Setesh let out a sigh. Of course Zasz was not paying attention. "I was saying how names and knowledge held power over others. But I doubt you care about such things." He watched as Katria gracefully darted away, cloak swaying.

[Donan]

Katria moves with him, not letting the man gain any ground on her as she shadows him.

[Henry the 57th]

It's easy to keep up with the man. He's going quite slowly (after all, he's stalking a Terminator). He continues imploring Lorgar for help as he stalks Zasz and Setesh.

[Elurindel]

"The fool..." Slathissin thinks to himself. However, he had made his point. An Astartes needed no weapon to inflict terror, but if he did not finish this soon there would likely be reinforcements. He drew his chainsword in a swift movement, dealing a double-handed swipe at him.

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WS61+30 All Out Hammer Blow. (1d100)[70]

[Henry the 57th]

The Word Bearer's eyes shake away the last of the acid, and he is able to bring up his sword to block the blade with his own expert skill.

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Parry: (1d100)[4] vs. 65

Slathissin's whirring blade impacts hard on the Word Bearer's own, but the Word Bearer holds.

[Henry the 57th]

"Death to the faithless spawn of Curze!" he roars, swinging his chainsword.

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Standard Attack: (1d100)[36] vs. 65

[watupwithdat]

"You may look at it like that. But power is still power, no matter small or large." He did not bother mentioning the fact that mortals could have daemonic names, as much as daemons could. Albeit holding less power over a mortal, that was correct. "So I take it the girl went to get food as well?" he said as they walked towards whatever place which served food. If she had wanted food, she would not have left the Death Guard's side as they were going there themselves. Setesh used a sigil to activate the Comm Leach, which he had deactivated after they had left the site of the duel. He had acquired the item not too long before coming to the vessel and was still not used to the chatter when it was turned on, so he mostly had it deactivated for now. But it seemed like it was quite handy. He tried to tell if there was something going on close by, or if the Word Bearers were still chattering about the incident with Zasz before.

[Henry the 57th]

The Word Bearers appear to be out of range, or simply not saying much. However, one small voice is whispering Zasz's movements and stated goals into his comm.

[Elurindel]

"Not today..." the Night Lord hisses. In a flash he rips a smoke grenade from his belt. Letting it clatter to the floor and detonate, rapidly covering the area with a gushing cloud of smoke. With a beat of his wings, he flits down the corridor in the opposite direction of the Word Bearers, in search of a place to regroup.

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Stealth test at 60+20 for Cameleoline, +30 vs hearing with Stummer, +10 with Smoke(1d100)[16] 8 or 9 DoS, barring modifiers

[Henry the 57th]

"NO!" screams the Word Bearer as smoke fills the area. He swings his sword again.

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(1d100)[82] vs. 35

He screams in rage when he fails to connect with anything. "This isn't over, scum! I'll hunt you down and take your head, like the slaves of the False Emperor took the head of your worthless failure of a father! I swear! I swear by Holy Lorgar himself!"

[Elurindel]

The Night Lord chuckles silently as he blends back into the shadows. Despite the nature of his wounds, it was good to feel battle with a foe worthy of his hunting prowess, even if ultimately they had resorted to cowardly means. Still, it was of little importance. If he could get one of them alone again, he might have a chance, but as it was he felt it better to track down the other Astartes he was about to go into battle with.

[Henry the 57th]

The Zasz and Setesh make it to a nearby area serving very Spartan food to humans and Astartes alike without much trouble. The area is a decent-sized cafeteria-like room that is only sparsely occupied compared to its capacity. And no wonder - the food may be nutritious, but it tastes like dirt. The World Eaters and Brass Butchers seem to be able to tolerate it decently, as do the Disciples of Rot. They consist it's the majority of Astartes in the room. There are also several hundred human renegades and some independent Astartes about. No worshipers of Slaanesh in here, obviously.

[Lucretia]

"I'm not sure where she is now," Zasz said as they walked off. "You heard her, I'm sure -- boredom. I do hope she doesn't get into any trouble, but she's a fright to try and find. I'm surprised I can ever keep my eye on her!" He gave a great laugh and continued to mosey on to the food area.

"As for power being power, I disagree with you. Certainly on a tautological level it's true that power is power, just as anything is ultimately itself. However, I contest that there are kinds, various fields in which power can be obtained. In that manner, power is not power. And on a meaningful, nonphilosphical level, the acquisition of minuscule bits of power over even an infinity of time will not result in a degree of power over someone or something. Imagine, for instance, knowing the name of everyone on this ship. That gives you some degree of power -- but is it of the same kind as the power to annihilate someone? And certainly not of the same magnitude. Where your scale terminates and where my scale terminates would certainly be different, brother. I have no doubt you place the acquisition of information above the capacity to obliterate those before you, as per your theological leanings."

EDIT

The quality of the food wouldn't matter to Zasz. That it would sustain him was what mattered. While he was capable enough of scrounging for food on a planet, his survival training would be of little use upon a ceramite-and-metal jungle. He would continue his philosophical dialogue while moving to collect food.

[Henry the 57th]

Slathissin does not have a great deal of difficulty finding Zasz and Setesh, thanks to a very helpful Astartes in blue-red-gold armor and a golden staff, who kindly informs him of their location and even heals a few of his more severe wounds. Though the random poetry reading in the middle of a sentence was a bit odd... Oh well! It's wonderful that there are such nice folks about, huh?

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Slathissin recovers 6 wounds due to a brief spell cast on him by the kindly stranger.

[Elurindel]

Slathissin goes to track down the rest of the group. He had injuries he needed tending to and it would be good to speak with them before the fight.

[Henry the 57th]

Slathissin goes to track down the rest of the group. He had injuries he needed tending to and it would be good to speak with them before the fight.

*Ahem*

Slathissin does not have a great deal of difficulty finding Zasz and Setesh, thanks to a very helpful Astartes in blue-red-gold armor and a golden staff, who kindly informs him of their location and even heals a few of his more severe wounds. Though the random poetry reading in the middle of a sentence was a bit odd... Oh well! It's wonderful that there are such nice folks about, huh?

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Slathissin recovers 6 wounds due to a brief spell cast on him by the kindly stranger.

[Elurindel]

*Ahem*

Arg. Missed that. Oh well.

Slathissin makes his presence known to them, emerging from the shadows, his helmet on, unusually.

"Well met, brothers. Are you ready for the big push?"

[Lucretia]

Zasz looked over and glanced at the new Astartes. "Hello, brother! I don't believe I've met you yet."