40K Dark Heresy: The Recondite War
Hesitating a moment, Darien finally says to Scar, "You're fairly well-spoken for a feral worlder, if you don't mind my saying. Either the Guard has improved its regimen for reeducating conscripts or you are a very quick study. No offense intended, but the scars and warpaint will cause a lot of Imperial citizens to assume you're a mindless brute. We may be able to take advantage of that, at some point. But it will require you to act the part, if you're willing and able."
A sharp stream of invective rang across the relatively cavernous hangar deck as Mercurius circled around their valiant little lifter, inspecting the damage and soothing the wounded machine spirit with tender brushes of bioelectricity to exposed relays and reassuring bursts of binary to becalm the cognator. He began to seriously regret not asking for an auspex and combitool beforehand; having either would make the task of ministering to the wounded flyer so much easier. Regardless, he would still need the assistance of the vessels own Mech-Wrights and Enginseers to fully bring the machine spirit of the craft to ease.
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Tearing away his attention from the wounded craft, he turned around for long enough to address the obviously apologetic pilot. "Go, take our 'astropath' with you and try to secure the assistance of the Enginseers aboard this vessel." He paused to think for a second, then removed the cogwheel icon hanging around his neck. "Here, take this with you. Let them know that Mercurius Haxtes, born of Hive Sibellus on Scintilla, petitions them for their aid in restoring the machine spirit of this craft. Use whatever kinship the two of you share with them as spacers for additional leverage if you can." He sighed heavily, then turned back to his minstrations.
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A bell tolled, and the hatch at the end of the executive hangar deck opened upon great pistons, from it poured a small multitude of hunched figures in all concealing black robes with eye slits and heavy rubber gloves and boots, a tall creature, that may have been a mutant, or simply a strange breed of void born (and indeed, when landed, there was often only a difference in the amount of money they had to spend, though few enforcers would trouble starship crew in ports) carried a great star shaped idol before a octet of adolescent palanquin bearers, bearing a slight bald man with a fine tan, who held up a metal hand in greeting, rising from the litter and standing, “Greetings honoured representatives of the Divine Emperor’s Ministry, and allies of the House of Regis, friends!” he paused, and gathered his shimmering silver radiation-retardant robes about him, giving Mercurius a bow, “And, of the Most Reverend Adeptus Mechanicus,” he said, seeming to favour the representative of the machine god over the other ‘witch hunters’ “I am Lucritius Tybalt, Seventh Officer of the Skaelen-Har Imperial Pledge Transport Vessel Kestrel,” he said, “I see that our expeditious departure has had some unfortunate effects on your vessel; I shall see to it that it is repaired. If you would like to come this way, I shall conduct you to your staterooms…”
Clearly, this time, at least, they wouldn’t be travelling in the grox pens…
Clearly, this time, at least, they wouldn’t be travelling in the grox pens…
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"We believe in the systematic understanding of the physical world through observation and experimentation, argument and debate and most of all freedom of will." ~ Stargate: The Ark of Truth
"We believe in the systematic understanding of the physical world through observation and experimentation, argument and debate and most of all freedom of will." ~ Stargate: The Ark of Truth
The fellow of ambigious moral standing rushed past the ship to join the others as they filed out, trying with some success to get just the right distance between him and Tybalt. Too close and he would probably be shot in the head for some reason or another, and to far away... well, one doesn't know these things. Imperials are an unpredictable lot at the best of times.
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Eli followed after Crom, leaving the lifter behind gratefully. He wasn't to happy about the botched landing but was even less happy with his initial impression of the ships inhabitants.
At least they would get rooms, which as Eli sipped at the amasec that Darien had provided he thought would be an improvement over a troopship. Figuring that the ships crew would write him off as a drunken enforcer for the Ministry couldn't hurt.
"Why do they hide their faces?" He muttered to himself as he adjusted Faith to hang loosely on it's sling.
At least they would get rooms, which as Eli sipped at the amasec that Darien had provided he thought would be an improvement over a troopship. Figuring that the ships crew would write him off as a drunken enforcer for the Ministry couldn't hurt.
"Why do they hide their faces?" He muttered to himself as he adjusted Faith to hang loosely on it's sling.
M1891/30: A bad day on the range is better then a good day at work.
Striding over to the officer, and stopping a meter or so shy of the palanquin and its coterie of followers, Darien makes a polite half-bow to the officer while wondering just what the proper mode of address for a "seventh officer" would be.
"My thanks for the offer of assistance with repairs to our craft, sir, and we will be pleased to follow you. A moment to consult with my colleague from the Mechanics first, however."
Moving over to Mercurius, he murmurs quietly, "Would you be willing to stay here and assist in the repairs? And make sure the ship's...crew...doesn't make any unauthorized modifications or additions to the shuttle?"
"My thanks for the offer of assistance with repairs to our craft, sir, and we will be pleased to follow you. A moment to consult with my colleague from the Mechanics first, however."
Moving over to Mercurius, he murmurs quietly, "Would you be willing to stay here and assist in the repairs? And make sure the ship's...crew...doesn't make any unauthorized modifications or additions to the shuttle?"
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As figures begin to swarm into the hangar deck, Ajax turns to face them and settles his hand on the hilt of his rapier. He narrows his eyes in a carefully-suspicious expression, and only releases his grip after the 'seventh officer' introduces himself. It won't hurt to start spreading the 'volatile rogue' image as early as possible, after all, and that was close enough to his instinctive reaction when the bay was invaded in any case, although far more pronounced.
The tall being draws his attention however, and his eyes once again narrow in suspicion and curiosity at the same time as he searches for some sign of both what he is and of what his purpose could be...
The tall being draws his attention however, and his eyes once again narrow in suspicion and curiosity at the same time as he searches for some sign of both what he is and of what his purpose could be...
Chronological Incontinence: Time warps around the poster. The thread topic winks out of existence and reappears in 1d10 posts.
Out of Context Theatre, this week starring Darth Nostril.
-'If you really want to fuck with these idiots tell them that there is a vaccine for chemtrails.'
Fiction!: The Final War (Bolo/Lovecraft) (Ch 7 9/15/11), Living (D&D, Complete)
Out of Context Theatre, this week starring Darth Nostril.
-'If you really want to fuck with these idiots tell them that there is a vaccine for chemtrails.'
Fiction!: The Final War (Bolo/Lovecraft) (Ch 7 9/15/11), Living (D&D, Complete)
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The Seventh Officer remounted his planaquin, and its bearers wheeled around, as the masked midget figures scuttled about, assessing the new craft, and then scattered across the deck. The idol bearer went before the officer, bearing his twelve-pointed star outward, a symbol that scattered the occasional crewman from their path. Stairs and lifts were passed in silence, and soon, they came to a great door of beaten bronze; which the tall herald opened, to reveal sparsely furnished apartments beyond, with tables and cupboards, a few chairs, and separate bunks. Stateroom, was apparently an overstatement.
It had been, once, as could be told by its size, but a previous captain, eager to improve performance, had stripped out such luxury from the ship (save the Captain’s quarters) to nurse a little extra acceleration out of the ship; so came the ordinance that the crew must shave themselves of hair (though they often ignored this to keep eyebrows).
It had been, once, as could be told by its size, but a previous captain, eager to improve performance, had stripped out such luxury from the ship (save the Captain’s quarters) to nurse a little extra acceleration out of the ship; so came the ordinance that the crew must shave themselves of hair (though they often ignored this to keep eyebrows).
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"We believe in the systematic understanding of the physical world through observation and experimentation, argument and debate and most of all freedom of will." ~ Stargate: The Ark of Truth
"We believe in the systematic understanding of the physical world through observation and experimentation, argument and debate and most of all freedom of will." ~ Stargate: The Ark of Truth
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Darien looks around the nearly-spartan chambers and grunts in satisfaction, claiming a bunk near the back of the room and shoving his duffel bag underneath.
"Nice quarters. I think it's too early to start planning, but let's see if we can't start getting our disguises together. Perhaps visit the Chapel and the armory, if this ship has one. And find out if the seventh officer knows anything about this planet we're heading towards."
"Nice quarters. I think it's too early to start planning, but let's see if we can't start getting our disguises together. Perhaps visit the Chapel and the armory, if this ship has one. And find out if the seventh officer knows anything about this planet we're heading towards."
OOC: Assume Mercurius remained behind to assist the shipwrights of the Kestrel in repairing the Arvus lander as Darien requested.
"Yes, very good!" Mercurius continued to bestow praise upon the shipwrights who aided him in repairing the craft. Already, much had been done to becalm the distressed machine spirit, and they were almost ready to start repair work on the wing. He turned to one of the masked figures. "Would you mind fetching a spare auspex? I wish to inspect the wing-structure for budding maladies such as stress-fractures before we start replacing damaged relays." He turned to another, an incense-bearer. "Tell me, after we finish repairing my lander, would it be possible for my companions and I to have a brief tour of your vessels facilities? Earlier, they expressed interest in visiting the chapel, and I myself wish to make use of one of your machine-shops."
"Yes, very good!" Mercurius continued to bestow praise upon the shipwrights who aided him in repairing the craft. Already, much had been done to becalm the distressed machine spirit, and they were almost ready to start repair work on the wing. He turned to one of the masked figures. "Would you mind fetching a spare auspex? I wish to inspect the wing-structure for budding maladies such as stress-fractures before we start replacing damaged relays." He turned to another, an incense-bearer. "Tell me, after we finish repairing my lander, would it be possible for my companions and I to have a brief tour of your vessels facilities? Earlier, they expressed interest in visiting the chapel, and I myself wish to make use of one of your machine-shops."
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The small figure looked up, and pointed; to another figure, still short, but within human norms, in a black cloak and with an auspex; this one, a technographer or perhaps some other form of adept, certainly one of the Omnissiah’s anointed. He said nothing, and appeared to direct the strange little ship tenders in their work, with the grace of a conductor, with a mixture of gestures and rapid fire pulses – not binary, Haxtes would notice – of a sequence of lights under his cowl. Evidently this tech adept was light footed, but he appeared to be friendly, as he held out an auxpex device from his own tool belt, and then glided off to attend to the joint of the wing with a small aerosoliser of machine oil.
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"We believe in the systematic understanding of the physical world through observation and experimentation, argument and debate and most of all freedom of will." ~ Stargate: The Ark of Truth
"We believe in the systematic understanding of the physical world through observation and experimentation, argument and debate and most of all freedom of will." ~ Stargate: The Ark of Truth
Mercurius gave the auspex a quick looking over, identifying the make of the device, before chanting the appropriate litany of activation and activating the device, using its mechanical vision to see what his unaugmented eyes alone could not. Slowly but methodically he swept the gaze of the device across the entirety of the damaged wing, as well as the joint where it met with the body of the small craft, carefully gauging the readings and comparing them to the tolerances he had pulled up on his data-slate.
Satisfied with the results, he made a quick intonation of thanks to the Omnissiah that Skaelen-Har still made such vessels the way they used to, and returned the auspex to the black-robed Techpriest, thanking him for his assistance and praising the condition of the Kestrel in the tongue of the Cult Mechanicus, before moving on to strip out and replace a damaged relay.
Satisfied with the results, he made a quick intonation of thanks to the Omnissiah that Skaelen-Har still made such vessels the way they used to, and returned the auspex to the black-robed Techpriest, thanking him for his assistance and praising the condition of the Kestrel in the tongue of the Cult Mechanicus, before moving on to strip out and replace a damaged relay.
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The Lander was repaired free of charge, as promised, though some of its new panels were a different colour (a bright silver, rather than the deep clerical red of the rest) and its machine spirit seemed to be placated relatively quickly.
Soon, a brief tour conveyed those who wished it around some of the lower security parts of the Kestrel. Great radiation shielded walls and bulkheads divided areas, while smaller walls were made of lightweight mesh, and sealed with fragile plaster. Narrow gantries passed between the thrusting pistons of the main air pump, which was attended to by menials whose homes were cave-like scrapings into a pair of pumps whose machine spirits had perished.
Elsewhere, grox pens were divided from less salubrious passenger areas by walls made out of filth over mesh with plaster and paint slathered on top, and great chambers were taken up with distilling chambers.
The meal supplied was one at which a number of messengers, courtiers, and occasional adepts or arbitrators ate quietly, having no particular incentive to talk about their business, and mostly sitting gloomily in anticipation of the warp jump…
Which soon happened, in the night, heralded by a deep repeated clang of bells and shutting of bulkhead doors outside passenger areas.
Soon, a brief tour conveyed those who wished it around some of the lower security parts of the Kestrel. Great radiation shielded walls and bulkheads divided areas, while smaller walls were made of lightweight mesh, and sealed with fragile plaster. Narrow gantries passed between the thrusting pistons of the main air pump, which was attended to by menials whose homes were cave-like scrapings into a pair of pumps whose machine spirits had perished.
Elsewhere, grox pens were divided from less salubrious passenger areas by walls made out of filth over mesh with plaster and paint slathered on top, and great chambers were taken up with distilling chambers.
The meal supplied was one at which a number of messengers, courtiers, and occasional adepts or arbitrators ate quietly, having no particular incentive to talk about their business, and mostly sitting gloomily in anticipation of the warp jump…
Which soon happened, in the night, heralded by a deep repeated clang of bells and shutting of bulkhead doors outside passenger areas.
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"We believe in the systematic understanding of the physical world through observation and experimentation, argument and debate and most of all freedom of will." ~ Stargate: The Ark of Truth
"We believe in the systematic understanding of the physical world through observation and experimentation, argument and debate and most of all freedom of will." ~ Stargate: The Ark of Truth
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It was said that the children of space were used to the entrance of the warp...
which was not to say that it was pleasant, Eli tossed and turned as unreality around him haunted his dreams, and left him awakened with a chill like someone was preparing his jettisoning shroud...
which was not to say that it was pleasant, Eli tossed and turned as unreality around him haunted his dreams, and left him awakened with a chill like someone was preparing his jettisoning shroud...
The scariest folk song lyrics are "My Boy Grew up to be just like me" from cats in the cradle by Harry Chapin
Darien found himself waking up off and on throughout the night. Though hardly unfamiliar with such spartan accomodations, the notion of sleeping in a room full of relative strangers was a new and unnerving one, especially on top of the fact they were travelling through the Warp--still a fairly new experience for him. At the Scholam, of course, he had bunked with classmates. Later in the Arbites Precint he had been surrounded by his fellow judges.
Now, though, the people around him had little in common except their orders from the Inquisition. While Darien didn't think anyone present was insane enough to cross an Inquisitor, he'd never understood a lot of things people who weren't raised in the disciplined confines of the Schola Progenium did.[/i]
Now, though, the people around him had little in common except their orders from the Inquisition. While Darien didn't think anyone present was insane enough to cross an Inquisitor, he'd never understood a lot of things people who weren't raised in the disciplined confines of the Schola Progenium did.[/i]
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The Warp.
The Empyrean.
The Immaterium.
There there be monsters.
When the warning bells toll out their promise...threat?...of imminent Warp transit, Ajax huddles on his bunk, his typical dry humor in conspicuous absence. Faster-than-light travel is unnerving to most anyone, but to someone who exists with the pressures of the warp in his mind every day, being cast into it in something as relatively frail as a starship is not a pleasant experience. Of course to someone with a distressingly active imagination, the anticipation of a Warp jump is far worse than the actual experience.
As the great ship vanishes from the world of the real, Ajax tenses up, every muscle going taut...and then, as a horde of slavering demons once again fails to materialize, he slowly relaxes once again.
"Someday I'll get used to that," he comments out loud, to no one in particular.
The Empyrean.
The Immaterium.
There there be monsters.
When the warning bells toll out their promise...threat?...of imminent Warp transit, Ajax huddles on his bunk, his typical dry humor in conspicuous absence. Faster-than-light travel is unnerving to most anyone, but to someone who exists with the pressures of the warp in his mind every day, being cast into it in something as relatively frail as a starship is not a pleasant experience. Of course to someone with a distressingly active imagination, the anticipation of a Warp jump is far worse than the actual experience.
As the great ship vanishes from the world of the real, Ajax tenses up, every muscle going taut...and then, as a horde of slavering demons once again fails to materialize, he slowly relaxes once again.
"Someday I'll get used to that," he comments out loud, to no one in particular.
Chronological Incontinence: Time warps around the poster. The thread topic winks out of existence and reappears in 1d10 posts.
Out of Context Theatre, this week starring Darth Nostril.
-'If you really want to fuck with these idiots tell them that there is a vaccine for chemtrails.'
Fiction!: The Final War (Bolo/Lovecraft) (Ch 7 9/15/11), Living (D&D, Complete)
Out of Context Theatre, this week starring Darth Nostril.
-'If you really want to fuck with these idiots tell them that there is a vaccine for chemtrails.'
Fiction!: The Final War (Bolo/Lovecraft) (Ch 7 9/15/11), Living (D&D, Complete)
Crom got out of his bunk, and began to stalk the room, for want of anything better to do. He came across Ajax. His fear of psykers, he concluded, was mostly illogical, and he lazily brushed it aside.
"Where... are we? What is this?" he whispered, slowly rotating on the spot, his eyes out of focus as if he were looking beyond the ship.
"Where... are we? What is this?" he whispered, slowly rotating on the spot, his eyes out of focus as if he were looking beyond the ship.
Jupiter Oak Evolution!
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As he registers Crom's presence, the huddled psyker twitches and briefly reaches for the hilt of the rapier hanging from the weapon belt that itself hangs from a coat-hook on the wall. With a sheepish look, he withdraws it and swings his legs off the edge of the bunk, speaking as he rises to his feet.
"Have you ever had a nightmare? A real one, I mean, not just dreaming that you walked into a chapel naked?" Ajax replies with a seeming non-sequitor.
"Have you ever had a nightmare? A real one, I mean, not just dreaming that you walked into a chapel naked?" Ajax replies with a seeming non-sequitor.
Chronological Incontinence: Time warps around the poster. The thread topic winks out of existence and reappears in 1d10 posts.
Out of Context Theatre, this week starring Darth Nostril.
-'If you really want to fuck with these idiots tell them that there is a vaccine for chemtrails.'
Fiction!: The Final War (Bolo/Lovecraft) (Ch 7 9/15/11), Living (D&D, Complete)
Out of Context Theatre, this week starring Darth Nostril.
-'If you really want to fuck with these idiots tell them that there is a vaccine for chemtrails.'
Fiction!: The Final War (Bolo/Lovecraft) (Ch 7 9/15/11), Living (D&D, Complete)
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Eli prowled the corridores of the ship, being in that deeper black always left him with a chill, Eli only had a handful of crowns, but he wanted something to try and stave it off. nothing ever really worked, sex, rum, gambling....
The scariest folk song lyrics are "My Boy Grew up to be just like me" from cats in the cradle by Harry Chapin
In a section of the cabin that Mercurius had laid claim to, the Techpriest occupied himself by silently blessing his wargear in the name of the Machine God. After he had finished with his lascarbine, a glance around revealed that two of his companions had awoken. Having nothing better to do for the remainder of the night, he walked over and joined their conversation.
"So, did either of you see where our 'pilot' went, or did the Hrud get to him?"
"So, did either of you see where our 'pilot' went, or did the Hrud get to him?"