14th Black Crusade - IC

[DrK]

The 14th Black Crusade is about to begin.
The Limoges system must fall.

The reaver vessl Skin Flayer slowly glided through the mass of spinning rocks and planetary debris that dominated the Diskouri system. At its heart the dying sun - a black hole - slowly consuming the system and all within it.

The 1200m long raider vessel fired thrusters nosing through the maze of rocks and twisted ice guided unerringly by the psychic screaming of the Beacon of the Dammned - the Warlord Vaal's twisted mirror of the Astronomicon to guide heretical vessels, xenos and the boldest or Rogue Traders to the mass of mines, forges, slave habs and floating ship yards on the small moon Iniquity that orbited a dyig gas giant.

From your positions on the observation deck it didn't look like much. A small ball of inhsopitable rock shrouded in crackling lightning storms and toxic acidic clouds through which the occasional ragged mountain peak was visible. Around the moon, hanging in orbit like a string of broken and blackened pearls were the Reaver shipyards. Hundreds of kilometers of twisted metal, broken hulks and small rocky asteroids laced together into a vast maze of pressure habs and shipyards servicing the Reaver fleets that call this place - fleetingly - home. A swarm of gun cutters, shuttles and star fighters flit around the upper atmosphere of the moon descending to the facilities beneath or just hoppig from one clan's shipyard to the next. A flicker of weapons fire and the faint yellow pin prick of a dogfight between shuttles getting a small cheer form the half dozen other passengers of not allowed in the observation dome.

As you slowly and smoothly move up to the nearest shipyard huge sets of chains are carried out by automated drone shuttles shackling the giant raider to the conglomeration of rock and metal watched by dozens of huge marocannon and lance turrets. A twisted and crackling voice blasts over the vox broadcast into the observation dome. "Welcome to Iniquity. Where even the Gods themselves fear to tread..."

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All of you heard rumours that the Warlord Karlaad Vaal seeks conquest and soldiers and tha has brought you...

OOC thread

[Henry the 57th]

Karesh Vul slowly scans the crowd around him, looking for notable persons... or threats.

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Awareness: (1d100)[54] vs. 57

[Lucretia]

Phinneas wasn't drawn by the tales of money, lucre, glory. Those sorts of things were what once defined him, several thousand lifetimes ago. But as the pale silver mist of warpstuff filtered out between every joint in his metal body, he contemplated why he had answered the call for Vaal. The beautiful mimic-mask firmly over his face, the thick fur of his mantel brushing against the sides of both face and head, and then the shimmering robe spun for him from the silk of the Q'Sal glottalwyrm -- renown for living in the throats of prey and spinning glorious tapestries within -- Phinneas strode off the voidship.

Somewhere, Farius was here as well. Phinneas had made contact with the Slaaneshi during the trip, reminiscing about the time Farius had corrupted the entire settlement Phinneas had been staying at. It had been an interesting experience. It had piqued Phinneas' curiosity about a specific Chaos God for the first time, although that had been a fleeting whim.

Firmly gripping the long piece of polished femur, emblazoned with silvery runes which danced and changed for each man who looked upon it, Phinneas reached out into the void to pluck a string of Fate. He wanted to take a roster of which psychically active and trained individuals had answered the clarion call as well.

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(1d100)[77] v. 80, Psy Power for Glimpse <- Success
(1d100)[26] v. X for Psyniscience -- + 3 bonus DoS <- 8 DoS

X is 45 if Glimpse failed, 70 if Glimpse Succeeds.

Using the warp staff more as a cane, the elderly healer continued to walk about, searching for any sort of barter-market that had been erected by the local scum of Iniquity to try and skin early arrivals before someone else did.

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Gotta try and find those markets!

Because I'm attempting to consolidate posts, I'll just make more rolls here.
(1d100)[71] Best-craftsmanship Backpack <- Failed
(1d100)[45] Synskin <- Failed
[roll[1d100[/roll] Good-craftsmanship Photo-contacts <- I'm an idiot.
[roll[1d100[/roll] Psychic Hood <- Still an idiot.

Continuing thereafter, he took stock of the area around him, attempting to get his bearings and join up with Farius if at all possible, or one of the many companions he had made over his vast lifespan.

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(1d100)[5] v. 80, Psy Power for Glimpse <- Success
(1d100)[5] v. X for Awareness-- + 3 bonus DoS <- 10 DoS

X is 45 if Glimpse failed, 70 if Glimpse Succeeds.

[Henry the 57th]

Even as Vul scans the crowd, he will also be keeping an eye out for items he desires.

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Doing Infamy tests early is probably a good idea.

(1d100)[86] vs. 31 for Psychic Hood, trade Legion Bolt Pistol <--- Failed

(1d100)[7] vs. 11 for Staff of Change, trade Force Sword

(1d100)[10] vs. 31 for Reaper Autocannon, Trade Legion Bolter.

(1d100)[79] vs. 11 for Best Craftsmanship Conversion Field, Trade Legion Power Armor <--- Failed

[DrK]

The packed space docks was thonged with armoured reavers, chains of slaves being dragged to a short life of toil, crazed preachers of the dark gods, warp ravaged mutants begginf for scraps and hundresd of minor traders and petty merchants dealing all manner of things.

The aged and mostly bionic psyker had limped down the boarding tube and entered the brutal sights and sounds of the swirling markets. Seraching the skeins of fate he had identified several other strong psychic presences but all blotted out by the vast beacon of sacrificial psychic energy coming from the dark mirror of the astronomicon from the planet below. Though a great clawed hermaphroditic shadow in the warp and a flavour of sickly sweet musk gives suggestion as to the nature of the creature within the power armour of the slaneesh devotee.

A glance at a chrono shows tht you have some time before the appointed hour for the transport that was promised to take you to the Warlords Citadel on the planet below.

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On the reaver space dock that you are occupying you can feel a large number of minor wyrds - psy rating 1+2
~4 more powerful psykers (psy rating 3-5)
At least 3 demonic entites (including the noise marine)

Sadly the traders you meet are unwilling to part with the sheer black material. The mocking voice of "What need has a walking corpse of my wares" still ringing in your ears. As Phineas casts out with his warp senses he finds a familar prescence. The massive bulk of terminator armour and Vul within.

It had been frustrating for Vul. Even as he strode through the crowd, humans debasing themselves before his glorious form. One or two even reaching out to touch his near divine presence. He had found what he wanted. The hulking mutant - red eyed nd tusked who ran the armoury stall honoured to trade with such an esteemed figure Vul and happy to part with heavy autocanon.

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what weapons are you carrrying/ equipped with?

A search for potent psionic artifacts had been a blessing and a curse. One - the sorcerer Vissiliich had what he sought. A flame topped Staff of change that he carried like a scepter of office. His "temple" a linked seires of hab blocks where the faithful gathered to hear the mysteries of the Changer and his "students" honed their petty psychic abilities. But his guards.. they were there too. Hard faced reavers with large weaons and twitchy hands. The sorcerer had granted audience to Vul but had then laughed mockingly spitting literally at the offerde sword in exchamge for his prized staff. Dismissed from Vissilichs temple of change he was standing outside when the clanking of feet announced the arrival of Phineas.

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He said "no" to the trade

[Henry the 57th]

Vul considers what he saw of the temple while examining his new weapon.

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Chainfist on my right hand, sword, flamer, and combi-bolter attached to my body. I just tie the extra crap to me - my SB and TB together are literally off the chart, so it's no problem weight-wise.

How many guards and stuff did I see? What were they armed with? And also, was I alone in the chamber with him? Because I think I may have some ideas...

[DrK]

Vul stares at the Temple. Retreatcing his steps and what and who he saw... The inner chamber where he was granted audience a mockeryy of an Imperial shrine save for the burning and debased figures on the atar where dozens of acolytes had been scurrying about under the wtachful eye of the guards.

The guards had been mostly dressed in rags of carapace and flak with a motley collection of bolt weapons with an occasional fancier weapon in their hands. A selection of chain and power weapons at their waists.

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Its like an imperial cathedral.
You weren't alone.
There were ~20 guards that you saw and a few worshippers/ minor psykers.

[Lucretia]

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Thanks to faulty fences, I failed to see if I can get the other items. So! (1d100)[96] v. 26 for Psychic Hood
(1d100)[53] v. 31 for Good-craftsmanship Photo-Contacts

I'll post momentarily.

EDIT: Chaos doesn't want me to have things.

Phinneas looked around. For some reason he wasn't in the market anymore. That was surprising. He was also surprised by the vision of the merchants, who could apparently see through solid material. Despite having on a mask, a robe and being a mechanical effigy, they called him a corpse. That was quite impressive.

[Henry the 57th]

Vul considers Vissiliich.

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Human or Astartes? Armor? Armament? Did he seem powerful, or just a glorified thrall-wizard who got lucky?

[Lucretia]

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Consider coming over here so we can communicate swiftly about things like position.

I believe Phinneas is outside the temple where Vul is. I'm predicating this post on that assumption.

"I mustn't believe, for it would be folly to presume, but who favors the bold as salaciously as luck? Is that you, Karesh Vul?"

[Henry the 57th]

Vul looks over his shoulders for a moment. "Oh, hello Phinneas. How have you been?" he says, in a manner that clearly indicates his thoughts are mostly elsewhere.

[Lucretia]

"Ah! By a starling's down, it is you. I am must befuddled by my location, for you see, I was but a moment ago down by the markets. Now it would seem I have appeared... here. Before this magnificent tribute to... what is this, a temple to Tzeentch? There are a psykers within. A school, perhaps? I must have been clouded in my thoughts, peering ahead into the future only to find myself in the presence of a temple devoted to He who weaves that which i looked for." A little dry laugh. "I have been fine, old Vul. It is exciting to see you again -- you also received the call for this warlord's soiree, hmm? I wonder how that will play out."

[Henry the 57th]

"Fine, I'm sure. Vul says, absentmindedly. "Now, how to get that Staff..."

[Lucretia]

"Hire them away," Phinneas said, no hint of a smile beneath the mask. "Staff are notoriously flighty, like grox are when thrown from a voidship. You shouldn't, of course. It's just rude. Those grox were on their way to feed in the nebula. You can't beat nebula-grazed grox."

[Henry the 57th]

"Ah, pardon me. Did I say that out loud? No, I'm not referring to human staff. I refer to a Staff of Change. The ruler of that temple has one. I want it."

[Lucretia]

"So do I, and so does anyone with a lick of psychic sense. Do you think that is unknown to He who wields it now? They will have set precautions, found guards, created traps. It would take a great dearth of sense to simply carry such a fine artefact about without some safety net to prevent its theft. Even for a sorcerer as yourself, this task may not be feasible at this time. Perhaps later, when the streets are not flooded with warriors recently called to satisfy the bloodlust of a warlord?"

[Henry the 57th]

"Who said anything about theft? You know I don't like to leave living enemies behind. I'm considering calling a duel."

[Lucretia]

"I would still call it theft. But you surely recall my peculiar notions of recompense? If you call for a duel, you may very well be the one on the floor being picked over. I doubt they would allow me to heal you. Tell me, what sort of potency did the wielder of the staff have?"

[Henry the 57th]

"I trust in my armor, my weapons, and my skill to defend me. And as to his skill, that is what I am considering."

[Lucretia]

"You surely know how easily armour falls before the power of the mind, my dear fellow. And there are eldritch forces which could render your weapon useless. But if you must go down that path, I will help you as best I can. It is my way, if you will have me."

[Henry the 57th]

"One thing I've learned these ten long millennia is that steel is far more reliable than sorcery, particularly when it comes to defending myself." Vul nods. "Of course I'll have you. I am still considering whether or not I should do it or not."

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Can't really say much more until I learn some more about this sorcerer guy and decide what I want to do.

[Lucretia]

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Don't worry. I'm just having fun establishing Phinneas and his speech patterns. He tends to vacillate between generic old man and dude who uses words like vacillate.

"I will keep my robes, all the same. I only wear this flak cloak as a reminder of my past. An infantryman had lost his leg, was bleeding. The only screaming tourniquet was being used on someone more important, some sort of commissar perhaps. I went to him, I healed him. Staunched the wound, stymied the flow, used the power of Chaos to bind him back. He would be without a leg -- I could not regenerate flesh to that degree, although I once learned that particular talent and forgot it again about four millennia ago -- but the infantryman would survive. I took him from the battlefield, cast nary a glance over at the impending wall of orks, and saved the man's life. He gave me this cloak as a payment for my services to him." Beneath the mask, Phinneas remained impassive and disinterested.

"He went on to become a renegade of Chaos, someone useful against the Anathema. He's dead now. His children are dead, his bloodline is dry. But he was useful. It is funny, I think, how even the least among us might become the tool of Chaos' will. But it is that paradoxical nature that lends itself to our Masters. But enough from an old man. Shall we find somewhere to discuss the future that isn't directly outside the den of our foes?"

[DrK]

The busy bazaar moves and shuffled around the heavily armoured terminator. The cathedral at one end of the hab chamber facing the market and seperating a pair if the ship docks.

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In side the space dock its like a busier, dirtier and more dangerous deep space nine. With the temple just in the middle of the markets.

Sorry Lucretia if I moved you - it's a habit I've picked up over the years to skip things along. Please say if you would rather I didn't.
The corpse comment was linked to the 4 bionic limbs nothing more. A back handed reference to the emperor.

Staring at the temple Vul considers the magus within. He seemed confident for a human. And garbef only in his robes though possibly with many trinkets an talismans if unknown nature.

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He is human
Appeared to have no armour or other weapons
Seems pretty confident.

[Lucretia]

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Can I attempt psyniscience to determine a ±1 range of the magus' psy rating? Even with the necroastronomican nearby, I should be able to see someone if they've got a modicum of power.

And please do not control my character unless he is incapacitated, possessed or if I have been away and non-responsive.

His entire body is mechanical, not just the limbs, which is why I was surprised. That, and he's got on stuff that covers his body, so really his hands would be the only bit that was uncovered and mechanical. He has on the mask, the cloak which covers Arms, Torso and Legs, the robe, et cetera.

Phinneas considered his options, attempting to gauge whether he could analyze the potency of the magus within. He also wondered whether he could find Farius. That powerful daemon could be of immeasurable value in not only this venture, but in the venture to come.

[DrK]

As Phineas surveys the temple he can see and feel the flicker of psychic impressions within. A multitude if petty talents and minor stress but only two minds of consequence, like flow lamps hidden amongst guttering candles. Powrrful, maybe as powerful as himself or his ancient terminator armoured companion.

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Some 1-2 rated impressions.
One ~4
One ~5

You sensed some demons earlier as you docked. One could have been him.

[Lucretia]

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So, if he were a daemon, that would change the level of bound/unbound/daemonic, right? But it wouldn't disguise his psy rating?

Phinneas looked at his friend. "The bearer of the staff may be a daemon. There are only two within the temple who seem to be as versed in the psychic arts as we are."

[Henry the 57th]

"A daemon, eh? Well, that would explain why that runt dared to laugh in my face." Vul extends his own powers to take a look.

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Psyniscience to evaluate the psychic presences in the temple: (1d100)[63] vs. 27

Also, I see into the Warp. Did my sight reveal anything unusual about the man, besides the fact that he's a sorcerer?

[watupwithdat]

Farius had been wandering around the place, surveying and looking for anything that caught his interest. Less did now than what had before. But there was of course plenty of that which still did, one strong force being the sonic weaponry of a Noise Marine he had gotten his hands on a while back. He more or less loved this particular weapon, and he loved the ear-bursting and eye-popping death it brought to those he chose to use it against. At this moment he did not know in particular what it was he was looking for, such things came to him when he saw or experienced it. Would probably not be good to linger too long, he still had to meet up with an old acquaintance he had attempted to start on the path of the Prince of Pleasures. One with the powers of sorcery, at that. Those intruiged him, and he always liked when he was able to sway one to his cull. What was it he said he had been looking for now again? Some hood? Farius' memory wasn't as it had been. He let out a eerily-sounding laughter over his own ability to remember other peoples' expressed interests and wants. He was better at figuring out such things as he observed and talked to someone. Or just making them think they want something.

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On the "shopping list":
Hallucinogen Grenade (+0 scarce, +10 single = +10) (1d100)[65] vs 41
Best Craftmanship Conversion Field (-30 extremely rare, +10 single, -20 best, +30 trade legion power sword = -10)(1d100)[43] vs 21
Best Craftmanship Legion Plasma Pistol (-20 very rare, +10 single, -20 best, +30 trade bolt pistol = +0)(1d100)[79] vs 31
Psychic Hood (-30 extremely rare, +10 single, +20 trade legion combat knife = -20)(1d100)[34] vs 21

[Lucretia]

"It's only a faint possibility. He could also be in control of a daemonic weapon, or perhaps has a daemon on retainer, so to speak. Converting a Staff of Change into a daemon weapon would be... creative. A bit disrespectful, perhaps, but definitely creative. I know another who is on their way to meet with the Warlord. Perhaps he will be of assistance in taking this staff as well. Should the duel fail, of course, I would very much prefer you didn't die. And if you can weaken the wielder of the staff, we may be able to finish the job. Contingencies are always a good thing."

[watupwithdat]

Nothing of interest. Nothing at all. Just a lot of potential convertees. He had stopped and swayed a few minor crowds of lowly folk to the hedonistic ways of the Prince of Excess, but he had other things to do and tried not to linger too much and made his way to where he thought the psyker might be.

On his way he found some kind of peculiar sequence of hab blocks, that had obviously been taken over by followers of the Changer. No doubt it was the work of some sorcerer-lord on a whim, or atleast the remenants of a cult that's been left behind from one. He felt an urge to desecrate it to his own Dark Lord, but again, he had other things to do. As he walked along the structure he saw a terminator-clad sorcerer and a smaller robed human in the distance. Maybe the sorcerer-lord and an apprentice he had thought of before? Oh, no. It's not I see now. It was Phinneas, the psyker he was looking for. Fitting the Changer had a temple or some such dedicated to him just here. This was chance. He continued getting closer, overhearing them discussing something. Something about a staff. This place's staff? He could easily sway them with a few words, he assumed. "Phinneas." he said, the external vox screeching in a strange way for a slight moment as he pronounced the "ph". "What is going on here?"