14th Black Crusade - IC

[Henry the 57th]

Vul laughs hysterically as the mutant before him dies. "Blue mutant, red mutant, one mutant, dead mutant." He giggles insanely.

"Maim, kill, burn! Pain, still, turn!" Vul laughs, as he charges a random stall, it's owner now gone. "Die die die. Fly fly fly." He smiles, smashing into the flimsy structure with his chainfist. Wood, metal, and plastics fly through the air as the ancient weapon carves into the pathetic little booth. A small wooden stool sits behind it. Gleefully, Vul steps on the stool like it was an insect, laughing more as it crunches beneath his boot. Splinters dig into the ground and fly through the air, merely bouncing harmlessly from Vul's ancient armor.

"Ha ha ha ha ha! You were red, and now you're dead." Vul says in a singsong voice, looking down at the stool. He backhands another stall unlucky enough to be near him with his chainfist, again destroying it easily. "Tee hee." Vul says, as burning splinters fly through the air.

As Vul looks around for something else to hit, all of a sudden his mind seems to come back to him. "What the hell am I doing?" He listens and observes for a few seconds, before most everything comes back to him. "Time to go." Vul says, rushing back to where the party still is, sheathing his sword.

He gingerly reaches into the Warp, calling on a small amount of power to aid him in moving things with greater delicacy than his own armored gloves can manage.

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Fettered Precision Telekinesis: (1d100)[23] vs. 62

If that doesn't take the first time, he tries again and again until it does: (1d100)[3], (1d100)[76], (1d100)[91], (1d100)[92], (1d100)[71]

Once his power is flowing again, Vul first spitefully seizes the charred skull of the mutant. "So you thought you'd kill Kerash Vul, did you? How about now?" he chuckles and he lifts the skull up and impales it on his trophy rack.

Next, he seizes every tome from the stall and stacks them together again, lifting the stack to float beside him. "We had better head to those tunnels." Vul says, pointing. "I think we could use a rest."

[Lucretia]

"That is my trophy," the healer said softly, channeling the power of the warp and trying to heal the three of their group who had been hit.

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I'd keep trying until the power worked, so I'm not going to bother rolling for the focus test. I can pass it 90% of the time, and I can't cause perils or phenomena from it.

Healing for Farius: (1d10)[8] + 5
Healing for Alicia: (1d10)[7] + 5
Healing for Minion: (1d10)[8] + 5

[Henry the 57th]

"Are you challenging me?" Vul says, in an equally soft tone.

[watupwithdat]

The cogitators in the power armour monitoring Farius' biometrics and status seem to come alive with a furious screech to those able to hear it, as it gives Farius' nervous system a microshock enabling him to regain control of his temporarly stunned body, and he is able to stand up again. He could see and hear the sorcerer-warrior destroying the stall, trampling things asunder and... Singing? It was strange, Farius thought, and he let out a short laugh over the spectacle. It would seem the disgusting worshipper of the Prince of Chaos had perished now, atleast. It was a disappointment someone seemingly well-versed in the powers of his Dark God had died, but it was a failure in itself to die -- meaning he did not deserve those powers in the first place.

His skin crisped after the bio-lightning of Phinneas and the chaos writings now all but indecipherable, Farius was uninterested in the body and ignored it.

"Do we want to linger? The man seems to have started quite something in this block. And thank you Phinneas." Farius knew how to be pleasant to the ancient man, when he wanted to.

[Lucretia]

"I'm merely pointing out that you've done yourself a dishonor. That is all, Son of Horus." Once he was finished healing, Phinneas moved towards the tunnels.

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Half action willpower test, -10. (1d100)[65] v. 52

Phinneas nodded at Farius' thanks, although he was facing the tunnels when he did so. "It is not the Will of Chaos for you to die today, old friend."

[Henry the 57th]

"I am curious as to why a healer wishes to wear the remains of those whom he has killed." Vul says, moving towards the tunnels.

[Lucretia]

"You misunderstand. You have claimed something which is mine. Whether I want it or not, you have stolen from me. And you have placed it, as though it is your trophy, upon your rack. That is all. Think nothing of it, Son of Horus."

[Henry the 57th]

"If you wish it, you can have it, though it is clear that you merely struck the final blow." Vul shrugs, telekinetically offering Phinneas the skull.

[Lucretia]

"Again you misunderstand. But as I said, think nothing of it, Son of Horus."

[Henry the 57th]

"I'm mostly doing it to spite him, you realize. Honor means little when vengeance is the goal." Vul shrugs, replacing the skull on his rack. "Will everyone recover, old friend?"

[Lucretia]

"I have done what I can. I can push the body farther than I have, but it is a danger to the recipient, and I would never do so unless it were a matter of life and death. They will survive another hour, at the very least. Should we avoid additional brawls, they may yet see the day's conclusion. I very much doubt most of the citizens caught in the Hellshriek will be so lucky."

[watupwithdat]

Their little scabble over a sizzling head bothered Farius little. He strode on after the elderly healer, who had mended the few cuts and bruises he had sustained from the blast before, towards the pathway. Kurin followed behind still shaken up a little from the hit he had sustained, his toughness not one of an Astartes, but still quite considerable due to his mutations.

[Henry the 57th]

"I think we've seen enough fighting today." Vul says drily, striding along with the rest, books and tomes floating alongside him. "First the Temple, and now here. We could do with a rest."

[DrK]

As the party - now remarkably more chipper with the power of chaos running through their veins and healing the torn and ripped muscles that had been lacerated by the hellshriek.

The maintenance corridors. Quiet save for the occasional whump rat. dead boy or twitching heretic overcome by some sort drug use led through to one of the one of the smaller domes that ajoined the main central one. The stench of blood and sweat rose as you entered the better lit areas and the roar of a crowd was like a physical wave. A great throng of several thousand crammed around the fighting pit in the centre of the hab dome. THe trio of imperial slaves battling in the pit projected on several giant hololiths as they fought with crude weapons of boe and steel.

THe edge of the small habdome was ringed with inns and drinking dens where people drank themsleves insensible, gambling of all forms changed hands at high speed and a long line of armed mercaneries slowly shuffled up to a small plinth where a tiny man - barely 4ft in stature but gowned in magnificent robes and with a head crowed with glorious horns scribbled and typed on a series of datapads. 4 traitor Astartes - one in the red of World Eater, the other 3 in livery of small and long forgotten chapters - surrounding him. Hands resting on weaponry and eyes behind mk6 and mk7 helmets scanning the crowd restlessly.

The books that you are carrying still floating along on a wave of telekinesis. A disparate mix of tomes and scripts written in a wide range of languages- from purest high gothic to foul xeno script, flowing eldar runes or pidgin dialiect of feral worlds - at a glance from the 50+ scraps of paper, slate and metal its hard to know is the correct one.

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Linguistics or suitable scholastic lore tests please.

[Henry the 57th]

Vul speaks to one of the mercenaries in line. "So, what's going on here?" He says, indicating the line and the little man at the end of it.

[DrK]

Vul speaks to one of the mercenaries in line. "So, what's going on here?" He says, indicating the line and the little man at the end of it.

The mercanery turns with a curse on his lips that dies away as he stares at the massive hulking monster of a terminator. Dripping to one knee he bows slightly. Great One. We sign onto Lord Vaal's service. So that he can muster his host to wage war on the Imperium.

On the back of his neck, visible now from his bowed head, you can see Chapter ciphers of some kind. He was once a chapter serf and knows the way to greet Astartes.

The other nearby humans in the crowd agent back allowing Vul and his collegues to push to the front should they wish.

[Henry the 57th]

"And what does one get out of this, beyond the chance to wage war?" Vul scrutinies the tattoos. "I see you were once a serf to the False Emperor's dogs. Tell me, whom did you you serve, and what opened your eyes to Chaos?"

[Mekboy]

Regaining consciousness, Alicia struggled to her feet, trying as best she could to banish the horrfying image of the tainted runes from her mind. The witch had eliminated her before she could land a single blow - how very embarrassing. For not the first time, she was glad Phinneas was around. With a curt nod of thanks to him, she glared at the marines, daring them to comment.

By the time the group reached the habdome, Alicia's normal arrogance and swagger had returned. Distaste evident on her face, she quite happily shoved her way to the front of the queue.

[DrK]

"And what does one get out of this, beyond the chance to wage war?" Vul scrutinies the tattoos. "I see you were once a serf to the False Emperor's dogs. Tell me, whom did you you serve, and what opened your eyes to Chaos?"

The man still bowed on one knee looks up at the hulking terminator. "I was serf to the 4th Company of the Howling Griffons. The cruiser was abandoned in the warp and I saw the majesty of the true powers. I fled the chapter, but before I left - I sabotaged the geller field aboard the vessel before leaving on a salvation pod wherea demon of the warp did bid me flee and helped me to safety. They feasted on Astartes flesh that day. 40 Astartes and over 8000 serfs died because of my hand".

He continues to stare at the terminator. "The Warlord seeks trie believers with special skills to act as the forerunners to sow chaos and dissensiona nd sabotage in the system before the main fleet with the thousands of cannon fodder to take what remains in the meat grinder of open warfare. I am honoured that you will fight alongside us Great One.

Alicia

The crowd lets you through before the 4 astartes at the plinh stare down at you. Faces hidden and impassive behind powere armoured suits scarred by centuries of battle. The stunted dwarf like man looks up, eyes piercing blu, intense and bright with intelligence. A long tail with a scorpon like tip hanging frmo his waist under the neat robes and a quill and pot of ink on the desk amid neat scrolls and a stack of data slates.
"You wish to join the Warlord's Crusade? Do you have any skills or will you join the hordes in the Reaver holds.... his voice dies away as he sees the rest of acolytes tagging along with Alicia. His eyes roving over the astartes and humans alike.
"Interesting. We can always reward and find uses for ones such as yourselves."

[Henry the 57th]

Vul uses his free gauntlet to run one finger relatively gently over the man's chest. "Little man, a word of advice: make no assumptions about sorcerers." Vul grips the man's chin lightly between two fingers. "We are notoriously... fickle creatures." Vul releases him and gives him a brief pat on the head before following Alicia.

This should be amusing. Vul thinks.

After the little man speaks, Vul says, "So, tell me, what are you prepared to give up in order to obtain the services of a sorcerous Terminator veteran of 10,000 years of war for your crusade?"

[Lucretia]

Phinneas closed his eyes, gripped the warp staff, and with an exertion of psychic power, transported several years away, returning to where he had been ten Terran cycles ago. His influence on the events of the present was effectively ended, and nothing remained of where he had been standing. The motion was silent and pleasant, a returning, and most likely didn't alert anyone in the party.

[DrK]

After the little man speaks, Vul says, "So, tell me, what are you prepared to give up in order to obtain the services of a sorcerous Terminator veteran of 10,000 years of war for your crusade?"

The piercing blue eyes meet stare at the helm of the Terminator armour. The hulking terminator on the same level as the man's head as he is sat on the raised plinth. He answers calmly. "If you are an enemy of Lord Vaal then you shall not leave this hab block alive. If you are an ally then then you have come to join his crusade against the hated Imperium.

Boasts do not interest my Lord. Only results. Those who suceed will be rewarded. THose who fail and do not die in their own failure will be cut adrift lest they fester like a rotting tumour in the Domain of Lord Vaal.

[/COLOR]

[Henry the 57th]

This insignificant bug dares to insult me? Vul thinks, his face hardening beneath his helmet. He keeps his anger and urge to murder the little bastard from his tone, though.

"And what if I am undecided as to whether I wish to participate or not? I have no opposition to this crusade, but I do not work for nothing."

[DrK]

The glorified scribe continues to regard the sorcerer with something less than enthusiasm. "Those who are loyal to the Warlord are rewarded greatly. Those who assist him in taking the system will be rewarded even more so."

He looks at Vul and nods his head to the 4 impassive astartes standing like statues on the plinth beside him. "Ask your brothers here if you wish."

Returning to the matter at hand he flings a dataslate towards Alicia and Vul. "THe chartist vessel Rite of Fortune is docked here but will be shipping her berth in 3 days. Consider carefully whether you want to be on her or not. If you leave with her she will take you to Port Last Hope, the Castellan class transfer station orbiting Limoges V. From there if you are "competent" you can make your way into the system. When we arrive with the fleet there will be a reckoning and anything useful you hvae done will be rewarded. Others have received the stewardship of entire wolrds Sorcerer. The Warlord's generosity and power knows no bounds."

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Was anyone else looking through the books by the way or just Vul?

[Henry the 57th]

"Very well then." Vul looks at the Astartes. "What are you getting out of this, brothers? Astartes are hardly known for guarding humans." Vul looks at the World Eater pointedly. "Especially you, Eater of Worlds. While I realize your Legion has never been the same since the... "incident" on Scalathrax, you are still known far and wide for your ferocity and dedication to Lord Khorne. I would not expect to find you preserving, rather than taking, life."

[DrK]

"Very well then." Vul looks at the Astartes. "What are you getting out of this, brothers? Astartes are hardly known for guarding humans." Vul looks at the World Eater pointedly. "Especially you, Eater of Worlds. While I realize your Legion has never been the same since the... "incident" on Scalathrax, you are still known far and wide for your ferocity and dedication to Lord Khorne. I would not expect to find you preserving, rather than taking, life."

Two of the astartes - armour scarred and amrked with chapter symbols that are not immediatly obvious say nothing. THe World Eater however looks down at Vul and snarls his voice barely intelligible. "I guard who Vall says and I get to kill those who oppose Val. It is simple for guarding sometimes Vaal providesthousands to die by the chain and the axe. he nods, gauntleted hand slapping the blood splattered hilts of his weapons.

The other marine shrugs slightly. His armour emblazoned with a series of crosse blades and his voice sounding gaunt and strained with age. "You speak of 10 millenia. How much of thta has been locked in warp storms or striding demonic worlds where time flows like burning promethium. Since my Crusade into the Eye I have never entered the depths of the Vortex and I have experienced over 1000 years in the "real". After so many days without break or succour the stability and order is like an old friend. I yearn to see the Imperium destroyed but for that to happen there must be unity in chaos. And in unity there is needs order. Order needs stability and stability needs scribes." THe last a contemptous snarl directed at the little runt of a mutant. The scribe for his part offers a quick bow to the aged astartes.

"We all have a place in the dreams of conquest. And mine is the petty organisattion that the Lords Astartes have no time for."

[Henry the 57th]

"Very well then. I will be there in three days." Vul looks at his companions. "And you?"

[Mekboy]

Alicia grins. "But of course. Vaal is in need of such skilled individual as us. I would so very much hate to dissapoint."

[Henry the 57th]

Suddenly, something strikes Vul, and he looks at the older Astartes. "Are you of the Iron Warriors?"

[DrK]

Suddenly, something strikes Vul, and he looks at the older Astartes. "Are you of the Iron Warriors?"

The Astartes chuckles slightly. Like a bucket of gravel shaking. "I am not. You have spent too long in the depths of the Vortex. When you were you last out of the Vortex Codicer?"

The runt tailed scribe looks at Alicia and Vul. "Just make sure you turn up at the space dock. Berth 18 before the vessel leaves. You don't want us to find you still here after that."

As you're left to your own devices Vul and Alicia return to Fabrius and Kurin and the large stack of scrolls, tomes and books.

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What are you up to for the next 3 days?