Dark Heresy (Light in the Void)

[Illiterate Scribe]

One question, if I may, Konthus; if in such a situations, should we claim Escarus' will for our actions? Essays he to make an impression, or to avoid one? Wishes he, or you for that matter, the Emperor's terror to bring, or his subtlety?

With a single fluttering hand, she makes the Aquila.

Fira, may I ask you another question? Is there already an investigation by the Adeptus Arbites into our quarry? He may suspect something is amiss if arbites patrols start showing up out of the blue.

[Prophaniti]

Konthus answers Aviva brusquely, "Officially, the Inquisition has no interest here. Should his Lordship wish to reveal himself, it would not likley be though you lot. Not yet, at any rate."

Fii looks at Aviva sideways, not quite making eye contact. A brain-case, She thought, one of those psykers. She wasn't normally superstitious, never putting much faith in prayers or trinkets, but she couldn't help but remember stories of psykers eating your soul by looking through your eyes into the depths of your mind.

"The Arbites often make raids like this. Send in a small group who's supposed to pass as gangers, locate a hotbed then go in full force. Haven't made one here in a while. If people think anything, it'd be that it's overdue. Like I said, unless we're compromised here, we shouldn't have much trouble."

[Prophaniti]

"Time." Konthus said, and one of the men opened the door that lead deeper into the hive, another covering down the corridor with his rifle. Fii lead the way, telling everyone over the vox link,
"Keep quiet and alert. You see anything or anyone, say so, but quietly. A noise these micro-beads can pick up no one'd hear unless you was standing next to 'em down here in the hive. So no shouting or any such. Let's go." And down into the depths of the hive she went, eyes never still and moving like a ghost. At least, it certainly seemed so, though it was hard to tell just how noisy anything was over the endless din of the great machinery keeping the hive running.

Though countless crossings, over more catwalks, through abandoned habs, Fii lead the party without hesitation, obviously very familiar with the territory. After about twenty minutes of this, she finally halted in a section of old warehouses, appearing just as abandoned as everything else down here.

"This is where the Fist gang's territory starts. The third warehouse in that row there, we'll check that one first. I'm down here sometimes and I see Fists meeting with outsiders in there. Three ways in; through the front door, around an old back door that's always locked, or in the warehouse next to it, then across the catwalk there to the second story. Your call."

((I need Silent Move and Concealment checks from everyone who is trying to be stealthy. Just roll them in Spoilers on this thread for now.))

[i]Fii's checks:

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Silent Move: (1d100)[48] against 32. Concealment: (1d100)[81] against 16 (untrained).

Note: Everyone follow my format, the number is the target, if applicable to the check (ex: a roll to hit would be: XrollX against WS+10 (+10 high ground). Note any modifiers in () after the target #.

[Vikingkingq]

Relieved to be finally doing something after being shuffled from vessel to vessel like a sack of grox feed, Drake smiled as he loaded a new power-pack into his rifle, muttering the Litany of Loading: "Machine spirit, accept my gift. Swallow the light and spit out death. Amen." Tracing the sign of the blessed aquilla on the power-indicator, Guilliman nodded with satisfaction as the indicator runes lit up, five green runes, a full load.

Hearing Fii's plan, Drake volunteered a suggestion. "Deferring of course to Guardsman Talmas here, I'd recommend we hit both the front and back simultaneously, with one experienced soldier in each team. In which case I'll take the back door." That way, if things go Warp-side fast, I might just have a chance of making it out alive.

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Silent Move: (d100)[10](16)
Concealment: (d100)[96](16)

[Illiterate Scribe]

Aviva creeps along behind, slowly drawing her short sword. She is grateful for having tarred its blade earlier - it glistens dully in the faint light of the hive, allowing for ease of concealment.

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Concealment:(1d100)[50] against agility; I've only got it as a untrained basic skill, so against 16.

Move silently:(1d100)[47] likewise against (16).

Hearing Fii, she stops, taking a long, hard look at the warehouse, and its darkened, broken windows.

I would echo Drake. The back door, in particular, would offer us an opportunity to seize the initiative in any form of verbal or physical confrontation. Wait! I saw ... saw ...

She lapses into silence, staring intently at a stretch of the third warehouse's wall.

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And now, psykery. The long look mentioned above is an unconscious Invocation action; roll (1d100)[1] against Wp 50+10 (+10 for psyfocus).

The other rolls will be in the OoC thread, since they're kinda contingent on these ones.

[Wiz]

Magnus

The tall, creepy albino follows along, behind the others, attempting to move quietly.

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(1d100)[65] against a 16 for concealment
(1d100)[59]against 16 for move silently

[Prophaniti]

Aviva:

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Aside from the various vermin that infest the place, you do sense one life-form strong enough to be a human. It seems to be against the back wall, just to the side of the door.

((I still need checks from Ghal and A_Sop, and I need to know who's in what group if you plan on hitting both doors.))

[Vikingkingq]

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(OOC: I think Aviva and me are going in back; I'd suggest that Talmas take the front. Use microbeads to coordinate simultaneous entry)

[Illiterate Scribe]

Yes - there's someone there. I just caught a glimpse of ... only one person there, I think. Back wall.

Aviva frowns quizzically, as if suddenly realising something.

So how did I ... Wait - Fii, you say you've seen people meeting here. Meetings ... more than one person. If there is just the one here, then either this person is waiting for more to arrive (having them outflank us would not be good), or there is something more to this than we think. Or perhaps are merely a janitor.

It is worth being sure over.

Aviva creeps along behind Drake, carrying the blade in a two handed grip.

[Prophaniti]

Drake, Aviva, and Rabalios circled around the back, while Talmas, Fii, and Magnus waited in front for the signal. As Drake came to the door, he tried to check it as quietly as he could. It was locked. Someone was making too much noise, though, for as soon as he checked it, they heard a voice from inside.
"Fel, is that you? Grak, man, you know you're supposed to do the knock. All this waiting has me on edge. Thold's men were supposed to be here almost half a cycle ago. C'mon in," A click sounded and the door opened. A man stuck his head out, still talking to this 'Fel'. "We'll play a few rounds of tsark to pass the-" He stopped, for a moment seemingly unable to process the fact that three gun barrels stared him in the face, held by three strangers.

"Grak!" he shouted, and tried to close the door again.

((Your turn))

[Illiterate Scribe]

Listen! We merely wish to speak to you. If you don't let us in, my friends here may see that as some sort of threat or challenge - it will all end much worse ...

Aviva, one arm braced against the door, reaches round to detach the staff from her pack, and then braces it in the door, hoping to use its reinforced metal bulk to prevent the man within from shutting or locking the door.

[Wiz]

Magnus

Magnus waits for the signal.

[Vikingkingq]

Oh God-Emperor, frakked already, and it's only just started! Drake groaned at the naivete of the void-born witch. "ARBITES! OPEN UP!" he barked, giving the door an almighty kick and leveling his las-gun at the door-man.

"You don't ask permission from the grox-suckers, rookie," he barked at Aviva. "You're the Law - act like it!!"

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(1d100)[23] versus Str 36

[Prophaniti]

Drake's kick sent the door flying in, knocking the man away. He landed in a heap a few meters in, hand fumbling at his back, finally pulling a stub pistol out. Only to have his shaking hands drop it. He looked at the pistol, then at Drake's rifle, then back at the pistol.

"Oh, grak." he muttered, then suddenly leaped up and ran toward the side of the warehouse.

The room is large and mostly empty, with large shelves along the walls and smaller ones scattered throughout the middle. Rubbish and old crates are heaped randomly thoughout.

((Everyone at the back door takes a turn now. Also, people at the front, if you take this as 'the signal', how do you approach the front door?))

[Wiz]

Magnus

Magnus rushes toward the door and plasters himself flat against the wall to it's left side. He looks down at the handle mechanism to figure out what sort of method would best open it.

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(1d100)[11]vs. Scholastic Lore: Tech (40)

[Vikingkingq]

Reacting on instinct at the sight of a fleeing enemy, Drake Guilliman advances two sharp paces into the room, kneels to provide a more stable platform, aims, and fires his lasgun, aiming for the ganger's legs. "Ready, present, aim, FIRE!" he chanted, trusting to the ingrained traditions of the Praetorians.

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Half-Action: Aim
Half-Action: Attack: (1d100)[25] vs. 53 (43+10)
Damage: [roll]1d10+3[/roll]

[Prophaniti]

Magnus: The door is fairly simple in nature, an industrial door with a sturdy lock, though it is not locked when you check it.

Drake: ((Were you doing a Called Shot, or just a regular one? Also, your damage roll didn't work, try it again either on the roller thread or in OOC.))

[Vikingkingq]

OOC:

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I was using a regular aimed shot, the leg thing was purely for descriptive purposes. I'll try again with the roll.
(1d10+3)[4]

[Prophaniti]

The crimson flash of Drake's lasgun strikes out at the fleeing man, but only grazes his ribs. He gives a cry of pain, trips on some rubbish and tumbles into a heap on the floor again.

((He's about 8m away, you can get to him before he will be able to get up again.))

[Wiz]

Magnus

Magnus levers the door open with his staff if the handle allows it, otherwise he uses his hand. If the door swings open without incident, he will hesitate a second, then turn and charge in.

[Vikingkingq]

Drake advanced into the room, keeping his rifle levelled at any incoming theat. Drawing near to the collapsed ganger, he thudded a nasty kick into the man's side. "Next time you run from the arbites, It'll be your head, perp," he growled.

As he did so, Drake's eyes scanned the room, looking for any evidence of the heretical or xenotech items they had been sent to find.

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(1d100)[10] vs. 30[/roll]

[Illiterate Scribe]

Azariah walks up to the man, sword drawn, and holds the blade's tip hovering lightly over his chest.

I told you, I really did ...

[Prophaniti]

"Y- yo- your not arbites..." the man stammers, though a good look reveals him to be little more than a boy, a nipper on his first important job. Speaking those words seemed to give him confidence, and he continued.
"You both sound like off-worlders, and arbites don't bring little girls with them." He tried to glare at Aviva, but dropped his gaze after only a moment. "Who the grak are you? You have no idea what your into, this is Fist territory."

Before you have a chance to reply, the group at the front door makes their entrance.

As the front door swings open, Magnus sees an almost invisible wire stretch taut across it, then snap. A blinding flash and a loud bang smash out at them, as the booby trap goes off.

((Flash grenade. Everyone in front of the door, make a Challenging (unmodified) Toughness test to avoid being blinded for two rounds. Everyone in the room, make an Ordinary (+10) test.))
Fii:

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(1d100)[2] against 27

[Wiz]

Magnus

Magnus tries to pull back from the door as the flash-bang goes off.

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(1d100)[22] against 41

[Vikingkingq]

"I'm the man with the lasgun, eh wot?" Oh well, gave it my best shot. I'm a Guardsman, not an actor, dammit. "That's all you need to know. And-"

Drake staggers at the flash-bang. "Bloody Warp! Don't you even think about moving," he growled, twisting his face into what seemed like a fierce mask of rage. In actuality, it was a face of acute pain, as his stump had begun to let loose a bone-deep wave of pain that set his teeth to rattle. This is going bad, very very bad.

"You alright up there, Talmas?" he shouted. After all, a guardsman had to look out for his fellow guardsman. It just wouldn't do to let the side down, not in front of civilians.

Turning back to the ganger, he thudded another boot into the lad's ribs. "We don't care about any Fists, I say. We want Thard and his stuff. Where can I find them, or do I have to start shooting toes off, eh wot?"

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Toughness Check: (1d100)[94] vs. 41

[Illiterate Scribe]

Aviva, as she crumples, trying to hide herself from the flash, whips the blade out of harm's way. She had no qualms about hurting this man, but killing him in cold blood seemed ... wrong. Especially as it would involve the loss of a valuable information source.

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Rolling a toughness test vs. 40 (base) + 10 (ordinary difficulty) = 50.

(1d100)[79] vs 50.

When she gets up, provided the man is still there, she whispers to Talmas.
If you feel it is necessary, it is an eminent possibility that information could be extracted from him by more coercive methods. I can patch him up to some extent if he becomes unresponsive (although not indefinitely).

[Prophaniti]

The man, just as startled as you by the grenade, curls into a ball, clutching his now ringing head. He grunts at the kick from Drake, but otherwise doesn't respond for a moment. As the group at the front door comes in, Fii shakes her head.

"I shoulda figured they'd have the place trapped. Just be glad it wasn't a pop-mine." She glances at the huddled figure on the floor and spits. "Frakkin' kid. You've gotta be one of the dumbest nippers I've met."

At this, the man lifts his head. Seeing Fii, his eyes widen.
"You?! You got a lot of guts coming back to Fist territory. You know how much the boss has on your head?" He grinned. "There's a bonus if we bring you in still breathin'." Suddenly he seemed to connect the dots in his head, glancing rapidly from Fii to the rest of you. "Grak, maybe they are Arbites. Oh, grak, the boss'll skin me for this."

[Illiterate Scribe]

The boss can skin you, or we can kill you, right now, and do the Emperor's work. Please, for the sake of your family, tell us what we would like to know. We'll find out anyway, but it would be better to do so without you dying, hmm?

[Wiz]

Magnus

Magnus steps into the room, stretching to his full two meters hight, his robe rippling with strange bulges. His staff gripped in one pale hand, while he throws back his hood revealing his burning red eyes, and a grin that turns his face into a skull.

"Please... let me play with him if he won't answer your questions."

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If you need me to actually roll, intimidation, I lack the skill... but I figured circumstances might provide a huge bonus. Let me know what my target number is (would it be an untrained 16)? Here's a roll, for what it's worth (1d100)[61].

[Prophaniti]

The man stammers again, his eyes darting about the room, searching desperately for a way out.

"P- ple- please don't shoot me. Look, I j- just do what I'm told. I don't know nothin'. I don't know who we're meetin' today or why, jus- just that we're supposed to guard the place and make sure it goes smooth."

"Bit late for that, nipper." Sneered Fii, and she spat again. "Tell us where your gang's hiding Gordus' junk, and we might not cut you into protein strips."

"I told you, I d- do- don't know anything! Just over there, behind those shelves, there's a way down. If we keep anything for anybody, it's down there, I swear!"

Fii glared at him, then in a whisper through your comm beads said, "If we let him go, he'll circle around and warn someone. They'll probably bloody him for screwing up his job, but he's too young to know that. Your call."