Dark Heresy: The Oremor Affliction IC

Game Master Rookseye

On the agri-world of Oremor, at the very fringes of the Malfian sub-sector, acolytes of the Inquisition and their allies must confront a sinister conspiracy that threatens to shake the very foundations of the Calixis sector.


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The Grey Way, The Vermillion Ring, Hypogeum Sub Level B, Cogitator Hub Cross-Conduit Terminus #117

Test failed.

Ivaanov and Kaltos pore over the pict-screens, but both soon realize that there is no fixed picter with a clear view of the 117 terminus corridor. Rising from the console, they watch as Hurchal and Kotts press their backs to either side of the rusting door, weapons at the ready.


Oremor 7th Penal Legion Claustrum, The Aerie, 99th level, Unduz II

Agility test failed.

Reaching around the edge of the lift door, Vincent winces as the razor-sharp edge cuts through his palm. Ignoring the searing pain, he pulls himself around and behind the gap just as a trio of bullets from his own gun explode into reinforced durasteel. Between the impact of the bullets, the pain in his hand, and the urgency of his movement, his robe's hem catches on a jagged edge of metal. Trying to balance himself precariously in the pitch black shaft on the thin lip of the floor that protrudes beneath the lift doors, he stumbles, grabbing at empty air as he flails to remain upright.

Gravity eventually proves inevitable, and Vincent Sepheris falls head over heels into the black well at the bottom of the lift shift. The fall is not a long one, and is abruptly ended by a something angular and hard striking the base of the senior clerk's skull, just behind his right ear.

The blackness becomes deeper, and for a time Vincent knows no more.

Vincent:
Don't worry Ellipsis, Vincent is not one to die so easily. In fact, although outwardly it might not seem so now, the recent confrontation could not have possibly ended better for him. I assumed from the beginning, given how greatly the odds were stacked against him, that he would need to burn a Fate Point to survive. However, with some smart roleplaying, clutch rolls, and insanely good luck, you have managed to beat those odds handily, and save that point. For this reason, I'm awarding Vincent a bonus award of 100 XP.

For what is worth, there was no lighter waiting on the platform above, and it was highly unlikely Vincent could have managed to climb his way to safety to one of the upper floors with Glyde bearing down on him. Hopefully this gives you some peace of mind with regard to the outcome.

Again, well played. Play will resume for Vincent tomorrow (I need to prep something first, but I should have the post ready for tomorrow) under a completely different set of circumstances.


Ahmazzi wrote:

The Grey Way, The Vermillion Ring, Hypogeum Sub Level B, Cogitator Hub Cross-Conduit Terminus #117

Test failed.

Ivaanov and Kaltos pore over the pict-screens, but both soon realize that there is no fixed picter with a clear view of the 117 terminus corridor. Rising from the console, they watch as Hurchal and Kotts press their backs to either side of the rusting door, weapons at the ready.

I draw the lasgun and crouch down behind the console for cover. "Dont know whos coming."


Sometime later, somewhere else...

The impenetrable blackness recedes for a short time to a dull grey blur as the whites of the senior clerk's eye roll away, filling his field of view with a blurry, fugue-like vision of the world around him.

The cold edge of a perfectly smooth floor pressed to his throbbing head.

Black walls, graven with sigils.

A lone figure standing before him, swaying slowly from side to side.

As he slips back into the welcoming pall of unconsciousness, he hears a thickly accented voice begin to sing, a song known all too well to him:

In the evenin' in the shallows,
'touched man he walkin' the barrows,
third eye seein' what's beyon' the parted veil,
lonely watcher, he muss'n fail...
walkabout...walkabout...


The Grey Way, The Vermillion Ring, Hypogeum Sub Level B, Cogitator Hub Cross-Conduit Terminus #117

"Steady", mutters Hurchal as Kotts unholsters his las pistol, listening intently as something on the other side of the door uses a ward accessor to unlock it, soon followed by the tinny chime of the portal's Machine Spirit granting entry. There is the sound of the manual portion of the door being engaged, and the rust-speckled thing opens slowly, the shadowy outline of a hunched figure revealed beyond hesitating in the opening.

As the limited light in the Hypogeum corridor outside illuminates more and more of the figure, Kaltos and Ivaanov can see that it is nothing more than an ancient looking diagnosticator servitor, stooped of posture like an old man, the waxy gray skin of its face covered in such an array of ocular enhancements that it appears almost insect-like with its myriad eyes. Spidery-thin maintenance mechadendrites flicker into life, no doubt prepared to identify and assess the reason the cogitator hub's data loom sent its whispered message for an unexpected rite of maintenance.

Kaltos, the oblivious servitor is already walking toward where you and Ivaanov are concealed behind the data loom, what will you do?


The Grey Way, Dolmen-Rue

No sooner has Uriah replied, then Oktammor begins speaking quickly to him again through the microbead, the even timbre of his voice not fully hiding an undercurrent of deep concern.

<<<"Uriah, Dunkan's moles among the Hive-Governor's adepts and technomats are sending ciphered reports to him that Taius Ceprus has been assassinated, you've been Uphive, can you confirm this?">>>


Male Human Savant Militant (Rank 4)

<<<"I can confirm it, the govenor is dead.">>>


Ahmazzi wrote:

The Grey Way, The Vermillion Ring, Hypogeum Sub Level B, Cogitator Hub Cross-Conduit Terminus #117

Kaltos, the oblivious servitor is already walking toward where you and Ivaanov are concealed behind the data loom, what will you do?

I step out from behind the console and speak in the language of the Messiah "Halt state your designation and purpose."


The Grey Way, Dolmen-Rue

There is a long pause at the other end of the 'bead before Oktammor speaks again, resuming the coded cipher the acolytes and he had chosen prior to their departure from the safehouse.

<<<Feck.>>>

<<<Things are going to go to hell in a hurry now. I need your location. Now. Stroinigli is leaving Geltdown with a friend of Dunkan's associate that has just arrived from the Ylesium claustrum on Unduz II. After what happened to your fellow acolyte, the boy, and the Yellobouros, he can't trust he'll be safe at the Gear Box or beneath it, and we'll be moving on from the Vaxus Deeps safehouse shortly. Where can he rendezvous with you?">>>


The Grey Way, The Vermillion Ring, Hypogeum Sub Level B, Cogitator Hub Cross-Conduit Terminus #117

Kaltos, please give me a Routine [+20] Secret Tongue (Tech) test.


Male Human Savant Militant (Rank 4)

Do I know where we are in relation to Geltdown?


Ahmazzi wrote:

The Grey Way, The Vermillion Ring, Hypogeum Sub Level B, Cogitator Hub Cross-Conduit Terminus #117

Kaltos, please give me a Routine [+20] Secret Tongue (Tech) test.

secret tongue Tech 44+20=64 1d100 ⇒ 93


Uriah Trantor wrote:
Do I know where we are in relation to Geltdown?

Yes, you are on the outer, seedier edge of the Grey Way, near the outskirts of the industrial parks of Geltdown, Uriah.


Male Human Savant Militant (Rank 4)
Ahmazzi wrote:
Uriah Trantor wrote:
Do I know where we are in relation to Geltdown?
Yes, you are on the outer, seedier edge of the Grey Way, near the outskirts of the industrial parks of Geltdown, Uriah.

<<<"I am close to the industrial parks of Geltdown. Tell me the best rendezvous from there.">>>


Test failed, Kaltos.

[01010011 01010100 01001111 01010000 00100000 01000011 01000101 01000001 01010011 01000101 00100000 01000100 01000101 01010011 01001001 01010011 01010100 00100000 01010000 01001111 01010111 01000101 01010010 00100000 01000100 01001111 01010111 01001110]

Still hidden behind the data-loom, the tech-priest utters a string of intimidating binary benedictions of cessation to attempt to forcibly disable the servitor, but is unable to broadcast the correct command.

When Ivaanov attempts to stand and do the same, the servitor's head whips around toward him, ocular appendages swiveling with audible squeaks of poorly oiled actuators, mechadendrites abruptly rising up in surprise.

Secret Tongue (Tech) (58) +20 (Routine), modified = 78, rolling test for Ivaanov, 1d100 ⇒ 5, success.

{01000100 01000101 01000001 01000011 01010100 01001001 01010110 01000001 01010100 01000101 !!!]}

Imperiously barking out the buzzing command through his vox-grill, Ivaanov forces the menial servitor to freeze in place, its rheumy eyes going wide and augmetically enhanced body going rigid.

The 7th Legion troopers both sigh in relief, relaxing their guard for a moment on either side of the door, not noticing the servo-skull with the soldering apparatus floating in the corridor just outside as Kaltos does. Detecting the intruders, the tiny deathshead of bone and metal flits away down the corridor, a discordant and jarring audible alarm sounding from its rictus grin as it flies erratically from side to side seeking assistance.


The Grey Way, Dolmen-Rue

Still looking out of the alley into the loud festival crowd beyond, Sgt. Einhardt, overhearing the conversation on his own 'bead mutters to the psyker.

"Tell him we're at the intersection of the Dolmen-Rue and the Canting Court, the north side I believe."


Male Human Savant Militant (Rank 4)

<<<"We are at the intersection of Dolmen-Rue and Canting Court on the north side.">>>

I look at Sgt. Einhardt and nod my thanks.


The Grey Way, Dolmen-Rue

Sgt. Einhardt nods in return and turns to continue monitoring the ribald crowds milling through the Canting Court, the majority on their way to the attractions of the Grey Way.

Oktammor, after a pause on the microbead that Uriah can only assume is him checking in with Stroinigli on another band, then continues:

<<<"Good. That means you are closer than I thought, he should be arriving at your location shortly.>>>

<<<Has there been any further word from Thul or the others?">>>


Male Human Savant Militant (Rank 4)

<<<"I have no word from any of the others.">>>


All:
Balfic and I have been conferring the last week or so through email, roleplaying out the encounter between he and the Eldar Farseer, K'lei-eth. What follows is the result of these exchanges. I had initially thought to keep it secret from the rest of the group, but upon further reflection realized that it probably wouldn't pose a problem if everyone else were allowed to follow along. Heck, Vincent's entire parallel storyline is unknown to the rest of the acolytes, and this metagame knowledge hasn't been an issue at all so far. For ease of reading, Savalos' dialogue is posted in italics. So, here it is, enjoy!


The Wellspring of E'auvennade

K’lei-eth stops before the Wellspring, and Savalos feels the cold spray once again misting on his skin and clothing, the soothing balm of the pristine water a welcome thing after all he has endured. Despite the very real sensations, sights, and sounds all around him, the acolyte still cannot help but feel that everything he experiences now has a slightly dream-like cast to it; as if reality itself was bent or warped in some indefinable way.

As tiny, pastel-hued, bird-like things spiral up and around the towering font, darting between the cascades on fibrous triple-wings, Savalos cannot help but be captivated by the inherent beauty in everything. The soft roar of the retreating tide is quieter here in the calm grotto amongst the towering fungoid trees, and the staccato spatter of the Wellspring’s falls creates a noticeable, but peaceful ambient sound behind the acolyte’s words.

"I have a lot of questions for you K'lei-eth. First off, I'm hoping I pronounced your name right... I’d like to learn your language, if possible. You've done me the honor of speaking in my tongue. Would like to repay that by learning to speak in yours."

“You will know our tongue in time; it is only a matter of perception for you now, in other whens you already do. First and foremost, I am a teacher to my people, and not all of my students have been of my kind. Krade, for example…”

"Think my most important questions are do you have any idea where Krade is? Which is linked to my mirrors question from earlier. He was carried through one."

K'lei-eth answers, as if he knew what you would ask:

“Krade is where he wills himself to be.”

“Your observations are astute, Savalos Thul, even if your limited perceptions reveal only a fraction of the truth.”

The tall Eldar strokes the tallest bud of a spiraling, labyrinthine-stemmed network of pale green vegetation that grows from the very roots of the Wellspring. With his delicate touch, the midnight-blue bulb slowly blossoms, revealing a wide flower with seven, serrated-edged petals, orchid-like in appearance, but possessing an inky black stamen in the center that exudes an intoxicating fragrance that is carried on the mist.

“The fragments of the Cendrilbaen---perhaps better known to you as the ‘Atremental Glass’, as it is by this nomen that Krade and others from this world have referred to the sundered mirrors---are devices of powerful artifice. They are doors and windows into the Empyrean, refracting and reflecting the continuum of time itself. Those who possess the bold temerity to attempt to harness these objects are limited only by their imaginations in what they can accomplish. However, as with anything so closely entwined with the Warp, this comes with a price all of its own.”

The tall Eldar moves his hand away from the flower and within moments one of the small avians flits through the air for the bloom, as if drawn inexorably to the scent. With a sharp, indrawn hiss of contracting air bladders in the roots, the large mycid-flower snaps closed, long, chitin-edged petals piercing the downy bird-thing while at the same time trapping it. It flutters weakly for a time, dribbles of bright crimson blood ebbing away, leaving no pronounced stains on the dark-hued flower.

The Farseer finishes his thought, his voice somber and composed.

“Intact, these shards once served as a prison.”

Not certain what to say to this, Savalos is silent for a time as the pair move around the circumference of the Wellspring’s titanic, bowl-like base, the spray of water still dancing around the two of them, lending bright lines of prismatic light to where the afternoon sun pierces the wide fungoid caps high overhead.

"How can I tell if someone's been turned into a puppet like the Eviscerator? They obviously aren't going to have glowing eyes all of the time. I fear one of our acolytes may even now be carrying The Daemon. There have to be subtle signs, perhaps even a way I can ward myself against it?"

The Eldar continues walking, his clear, perfectly articulated voice carrying to the ganger even over the roar of the cataracts striking the lower fountain.

“The Changeling daemon requires a host while beyond the bounds of the Cendrilbaen, that which has been shattered, not only to remain in our world, but to survive at all. In this, the daemon is also vulnerable, as it is partially enslaved to the baser desires of its host when it is not ascendant. In a sense, much of its behavior is predicated by this, it yet remains a prisoner in this small way.”

K’lei-eth’s brow twitches ever so slightly, what seems to pass for a frown on his perfectly smooth, largely inexpressive countenance.

“You must forgive me, Savalos Thul, at times it is difficult to gauge where and when those I converse with exist in the weave of the continuum. You speak then of your companion, the other acolyte? If so, remember this: as long as the Changeling clings to its host, there is still some small part of your friend’s will remaining within, however deeply buried. Of wards, the only one that will protect you is that which it eternally seeks but cannot possess while this world yet lives. The feather.”

Savalos is quiet for a bit, as he tries to formulate what he is thinking into the right words. Taking in the beautiful fungoid forest, and the massiveness of the ocean before him, it saddens him a bit that the Wellspring is now buried over by miles of plasteel and rockcrete.

"Guess my next questions are of a personal sort. You talked about regret coming for me. Who am I losing? I already lost my birth family, along with Emrit, Jerik, Maia, and Ty. Am I losing Aebena, too? The Daemon kept a watch on her for over three years waiting on me. Guessing she's been living on borrowed time for awhile. It knows her well.

Savalos swallows hard to speak the next:

"It had quite awhile to study her habits, and it can snuff her like a candle anytime. She lives by its leisure."

Having now nearly completed a half-circuit of the Wellspring’s base, the Farseer comes to a halt, turning to face Savalos while standing beneath an intricate arbor comprised of pale green fungal stalks interwoven with polished shellwood struts. He next speaks solemnly, as if he is reciting a compact he has uttered many times before.

“If I am to teach one of your kind, you must understand that the continuum is never certain. The ebb and flow of time touches directly upon the Immaterium, it is both borne aloft and waylaid by the intrinsic Chaos of the Warp itself. For everything that will happen, there are countless alternatives; even other realities born from the very interference by which you would assert your control in one small matter. As I counseled Krade and others of his ilk that came before, you must absent yourself from such base matters as your own desires and abstain from tampering with the continuum where it touches upon your own destiny."

"Therein lies the path to madness.”


The Grey Way, The Vermillion Ring, Hypogeum Sub Level B, Cogitator Hub Cross-Conduit Terminus #117

As the servo-skull flits away down the hypogeum's sublevel maintenance tunnel outside the hub room door, blaring its alarm at the higher decibel range, the guardsmen spin around in surprise. As Hurchal stares after it, dumbfounded, the comm officer, Pvt. Kotts looks past the frozen servitor toward the two tech-priests.

"Dammit! We have to snuff that thing before the whole place knows we're here!"


V-Block ~ The Oubliette, Septcell #7

The pain is what wakes Vincent this time, an agonizing, syncopating, throbbing sensation emanating from the back of his skull, ropes of pulsing pressure causing his temple to throb where it meets the smooth, cold stone of the floor. He dares to open one eye, the one that isn't pressed into the basalt-black stone beneath his head, and instantly regrets doing so. The world swims nauseatingly, pitching and yawing from side to side, like a storm-tossed ship. He closes it tight, trying with all his will to focus, eliciting a single tear from the pain. There is no doubt he is concussed, the larger worry is that he may have a fractured skull. More pressing than this, however, is that the killer, Glyde, the abomination that is the Warden-Colonel, and yes, yes, the traitor, Triggs will find him in the elevator shaft and finish him. If they hadn't already there was still time to escape.

Opening his eye again, the world slowly comes into focus, but it is not the dark, claustrophobic press of the durasteel walls of the elevator shaft that he sees through the fog of pain.

No, it is somewhere different entirely, but somehow...familiar.

Dark walls, smooth as basalt or polished volcanic glass surround him on all sides. The room is not precisely circular, having sides, but it is an odd, almost disconcerting number of them. Counting those sides he can see, he concludes the chamber must be heptagonal, barely three meters across, but rotating his eye upward, he can see that the chamber is rather deep, the ceiling tapering slowly to a point lost above in shadow, like a pit, or a well, or...or...an oubliette...

He tries to move, but finds he can't, his muscles stiff and rigid from being unconscious for so long.

Something jars a recollection, the claustrum's endless floorplans spooling through his eidetic memory as if on a cogitator display, falling away to its deepest dungeons, the Logis' communion not a recollection precisely, but an absence of one. Here. A place in the deepest catacombs of V-Block, an absence of specificity in the schematic in a strange shape, almost like a seven-petaled flower, with a single, larger seven-sided ovule in the center. He giggles madly to himself when he remembers the name of the flower's part that encircles the outer bud and petals from below, much like the circular void he knows exists around this odd blank spot on the architectural blueprint of his memory. The Calyx. A circle that can only be the circumscribing corridor outside of the claustrum's most secure cell....the Oubliette of the Prisoner himself.

A soft humming that at first sounds like a sonorous buzz to his ears comes from just behind his left shoulder, a wordless tune that is altogether as familiar to him now as his own name.

He remembers the readout from the cloning lab on the derelict level twenty-six...

Vincent's Memory:

Gholem-77...

***[BUFFER SUBJECT SEVEN][CODE DESIGNATE: 'RYUK'][STASIS VAULT STATUS/...*ATTENTION!*/POSSIBLE BREACH DETECTED/][BIOMETRIC ANALYSIS/...VERIFIED][BIO-AUSPEX RESULT/...ACTIVE][OPERATIONAL BUFFER CAPABILITY: 17.4/...HOLDING]***]

<---PARSING DATA--->

[b]7777777-G-CONFIRMING CREDENTIALS/ERISHKAGAL-77 ENCRYPTION ENGAGED**ACCESS GRANTED**/ACCESSING STATUS DISPLAY-ACTUAL:
[b][***WARNING-WARNING-WARNING***/CONTAINMENT FAILURE IMMINENT]
[PSYCHIC ACTIVITY {+77.777 ps/t} PRESENTLY EXCEEDS ALL ASSIGNED FAIL-SAFE PARAMETERS-IMMEDIATE QUARANTINE RECOMMENDED/EVACUATE ALL PERSONNEL;;/ERROR/FALSE cmnd -h ID READ/NEG/7/***ERROR***/QUARANTINE PROTOCOLS DISABLED AT SOURCE/***ERROR***]

***[V-VAULT/CENTRAL CORE][CODE DESIGNATE: 'NERGAL'][STASIS VAULT STATUS/...*ATTENTION!*/POSSIBLE BREACH DETECTED/OFFLINE(#!/ERROR!][WARP CONTAINMENT/...OFFLINE][PSY-DAMPERS/...OFFLINE][BIO-MECHANICAL RESTRAINTS/....OFFLINE][BIOMETRIC ANALYSIS/...VERIFIED][BIO-AUSPEX RESULT/...INCONCLUSIVE][IMMATERIUM OVERBLEED RATIO EXCEEDED/IMMEDIATE QUARANTINE RECOMMENDED/EVACUATE ALL PERSONNEL;;/ERROR/FALSE cmnd -h ID READ/NEG/7/***ERROR***/QUARANTINE PROTOCOLS DISABLED AT SOURCE/***ERROR***/

Some animal part of Vincent tells him by a slight hesitation in the unseen stranger's cadence that he has sensed the senior clerk no longer sleeps the black dream of oblivion, and his heart begins to pound in his chest. Feeling something cold against one half-numb hand, he glances down to a sight that takes his breath away. The Sliver of Calyx, deactivated, but blessedly, assuredly there, real as his pain.


The Wellspring of E'auvennade

K'lei-eth's words echo in Thul's mind:

"As I counseled Krade and others of his ilk that came before, you must absent yourself from such base matters as your own desires and abstain from tampering with the continuum where it touches upon your own destiny. Therein lies the path to madness.”

In other words shut up and enjoy the time you have with those you love. Weighing the 'woulda, 'coulda, 'shoulda, will only eat you alive. Easier said than done, but something I am going to need to master. Throne knows I don't want to be a Johnnie or Ishmael. Or have screaming nightmares with my eyes wide open like 'Brek. If I want to find Krade, and save Oremor then I need to walk a mile in Krade's shoes....

Savalos muses to himself as he follows the Farseer.

One would think that knowing Johnnie would still be sentient would give me some comfort, but it doesn't. Remembering well the scene that played out on the stairwell when I goaded the Eviscerator. Sure, Johnnie's inside, but he sold his soul. It didn't force its will on him. He had to let it in. That disturbs me to my core. Gives me a shiver inside. I've seen alliances switch back and forth so fast in the streets it could make your head spin. But never did I consider one betraying the essence of his self...

Knowing that the feather is the ward is of little comfort. Though I am sure telling Iacton the next time I see him will give him some small measure of comfort with his burden.

Be strong Sav, alot of people are counting on you.

Savalos smiles briefly at K'lei-eth's willingness to teach him his people's language.

Funny how I can't even read my own language, but I am about to learn to speak an alien tongue.

Savalos is silent for a long while, still pondering the Farseer's words.

“Krade is where he wills himself to be.”

He'll be found when he wants to be found. Question is what is he waiting for? Who is Krade trying to draw out? Damn I wish I had another look at that Regicide board. The pieces are telling a story. Who's in play, who's in check, who has already been removed. The pieces would tell me more about who the other player is.

The way the bird follows K'lei-eth's gesture into the bloody orchid reminds me that I am in some kind of dream or trance. That what one perceives is not always real; even though the message is more than relevant. I can't shake that the number 7 is conveniently represented. The number seven... somehow linked to entropy. Sadly the imagery of the flower and the bird are lost on me. I try to think of a place in the hive or underhive that is known for having this kind of flower or a relevant heraldry of such.


The Grey Way, Dolmen-Rue

The microbead hisses after Uriah's answer, the connection lost, or otherwise interrupted by the interference of the numerous intervening levels of Orcut Hive. The psyker lowers his head, lost in thought.

When he looks up again, he sees Sgt. Einhardt still standing near the mouth of the narrow alleyway, lit from above by a blinking neon-lumen sign depicting a violet flower with flickering petals. A sense of deja vu passes through him after glancing at the sign, perhaps a latent whisper of psychic recognition on a level impossible for even he to truly perceive and comprehend. He is seeing sevens repeated everywhere now, like Savalos.

Einhardt signals him as a muted screech of arrested tires on the condensation-wet rockcrete comes from the Canting Court. A few seconds later, and Stroinigli's Sabrewolf slowly rolls into view, the matte black window on the driver's side slowly descending to reveal the exhausted looking twist within.

On reaching Einhardt, Uriah watches as the wary sergeant gives on last look down the empty alleyway before opening the door to the rear of the vehicle for the psyker. He hesitates allowing the voidborn to get in however, an oddly protective gesture, seeing that someone else already sits in the back seat.

Stroinigli leans out the window and mutters to the guardsman:

"He is with us, trooper, he is 'fren, get in the front, I'm believing that Uriah here will be eager to speak with 'im."

Uriah looks into the darkened cabin of the luxury groundcar, but the purple light from the sign above does little to illuminate the stranger from where he stands.


Male Human Savant Militant (Rank 4)

Trusting Stroinigli enough, he enters the vehicle warily.


The Wellspring of E'auvennade

Savalos finds his voice again, and speaks again as he trails Farseer K'lei-eth through the dappled shade of the mycoids above.

"There a woman who was kidnapped by the Daemon. Used like a worm to lure Johnnie in like a young Churraptus. She used to be his mate. He's the one I am afraid the daemon may be possessing and using. Any way to tell if she is still alive?"

The Farseer does not slow his long stride, answering with a question of his own.

"If the daemon has claimed your friend for his vessel, then tell me: knowing what you do of the Changeling, do you think she yet survives?"

Savalos carefully considers his answer, but continues speaking just the same, trying to keep pace with the Eldar and his own frayed thoughts. He realizes the flood of explanation to this alien being is strangely cathartic, an upwelling of the guilt he feels for Sunshine's present fate, painful emotions he has not had the time to address.

"She was Wolf Kissed as my family calls it. Doesn't matter what she was before in life. The Duct Wolves, the Remyr chose her to be a part of us. She almost died, I fought hard to try and save her life. I held her down while she was being stitched up. Her blood soaked my hands, and my furs. Locked eyes with me she did the whole time; never wavered. Can't shake something like that, you know? The Daemon took her, and its only right that I see her back safe. She sacrificed everything to help us 'cause she still held a flame for Johnnie."

Realizing that K'lei-eth probably has no idea what being 'Wolf-Kissed' means Savalos tries to elaborate.

"See, being Wolf-Kissed in my Family's eyes, in our mythos, is like a rebirth. If the kiss kills you, then your spirit goes on. If you live, then you are reborn. You cast off the burdens of your old life, and begin anew. The Remyr gives you a second chance to live. I just feel she deserves that. It's been gnawing at me since she's been taken. I told Johnnie I would keep her safe. Promised her everything would be alright even as her life blood spilled onto the floor."

Though he walks with his back turned to Savalos, the one-time ganger can sense the Farseer's attention fixed squarely upon him as he speaks, carefully weighing every word he says.

"You need not explain the Remyr's bond to me, Savalos Thul. My people have shared a communion with these noble creatures since this Lilaethan began to bloom, the spirituality of your small band of kindred does them honor, for there are few among humanity who still heed this call. If the spirit of the Remyr flows in her blood, she will be stronger for it, perhaps you will yet be able to keep your promise to her."

K'lei-eth follows a meandering trail away from the far side of the fountain, the huge stalks of the fungoids growing smaller around you, gradually thinning out until you traverse a path of perfectly smooth white stones that winds through a breathtakingly beautiful garden of exotic-looking flowering plants in every shade imaginable, and some hues you cannot no matter how hard you try to focus upon them. The Farseer guides the way through the well-tended plants, finally shedding his simple sandals as you reach the fine sands of the horizon-spanning beach. He moves towards something in the short distance ahead, at the very point where the garden ends and the beach begins. Finally, he stops before a small, triangular, wraithbone structure, composed of simple, beveled planes and angles. The arrangement of the shapes vaguely remind the acolyte of a miniature templum, or a small shrine of some kind. Turning around to face Savalos again, K'lei-eth kneels to unroll a rough-spun reed mat before sitting upon it and gesturing for the acolyte to follow suit.

"Please, sit."

He gestures behind him toward the small shrine, draped in garlands of seaweed, offerings of the same colorful flowers from the garden littered before it. Amazingly, some even appear to have taken root before it in the unforgiving sand and bloomed anew. Savalos sits, face to face with him from the other side of the mat.

"Humankind worship a hero, become a god, who, though dead, yet lives on. My people worship the sole survivors of a pantheon of the dead."

"Ironic is it not?"

Caressing a flawless emerald ensconced in the center of his robe, the Farseer continues.

"Even so, both still yearn to protect their faithful."

"The tale of your friend, whom the Changeling has claimed, and his one true love remind me that the same stories, once given shape, persist forever, the circle always comes full, to repeat again, ever so subtly changed along their journey through the continuum."

K'lei-eth sighs deeply. Perhaps he knows your answer as he knew Krade's before you. Or perhaps he knows how the story, all stories, ultimately will end.

He turns to regard the small fertility shrine, his voice filled with a profound sadness that touches Savalos deeply.

"I will teach you...we will begin with a living myth of my people, will you hear it?"


V-Block ~ The Oubliette, Septcell #7

The being before Vincent stands naked save for a dried layer of amniotic fluid heralding his strange birth. He squats near Vincent like a predator deciding what to do with an injured prey. A moment passes and the being chooses a course of action.

In halting Gothic, he utters his first words, "Desire... you... release... pain...."


Ryuk wrote:

V-Block ~ The Oubliette, Septcell #7

The being before Vincent stands naked save for a dried layer of amniotic fluid heralding his strange birth. He squats near Vincent like a predator deciding what to do with an injured prey. A moment passes and the being chooses a course of action.

In halting Gothic, he utters his first words, "Desire... you... release... pain...."

As the stranger studies him, Vincent studies the stranger; one predator sizing up another. Pulling himself up against the Calyx's outer wall, he adopts an awkward sitting position facing the stranger.

He considers the being's halting speech silently, finding distasteful meanings in these words. Frowning slightly, he reaches for his two remaining weapons; his wit and his sword.

"Terribly sorry, but I'm afraid you're just not my type."


Lacking the proper reference for the expression, the being shrugs, "Not... understand..." He then picks his nose with his pinky and scrapes the wall with it.

For Rook

Spoiler:
Is it possible for Ryuk to use his powers inside the cell?


Ryuk wrote:
Lacking the proper reference for the expression, the being shrugs, "Not... understand..." He then picks his nose with his pinky and scrapes the wall with it.

Relieved that the somewhat thick naked man is not openly hostile, Vincent tries a different approach.

"Well, in that case, why don't we try something simple? Who...are..you."


The naked man pauses and scratches his chin, his eyes with a far-off distant look. "Ryuk," he says.


The Wellspring of E'auvennade

Savalos' own thoughts stop him in his tracks, as K'lei-eth asks whether he honestly still thought Quincus still lived if the Changeling had taken Johnnie.

She used to be his mate.

It hits me like a ton of bricks. While I pulled the Duct Wolf off of her as it tore out her insides underneath the Arbites Spire, bleeding out in Stroinigli's ride, and on Emrit's hospital table; not once did she ask or call out for Johnnie. Her blood mixed with my furs, and she held me in a death grip. She screamed, and she yelled out something horrible. The whole time her gaze was locked with mine. Her life was hanging by a thread, but she never called out for Johnnie. My hands shake a bit as I follow behind K'lei-eth.

"Yeah, I know she's alive. I can feel it."

Deep down I realized I'm not trying to rescue her for Johnnie's sake, but for my own. When I was Wolf Kissed years ago, it hurt, and left its mark on me. It didn't change my life. Never even really talked about it. Not 'til Sunshine was kissed... When I carried her to safety I shared my story of when I was bitten. We had something in common to share. I fought for her to live, as hard as she did for herself...

Damn hands are still shaking.

Thinking of all the people I have cared for and lost. I realize how hard I have fought for her, and keep chasing after. The answer is plain. It was in her eyes. I know her soul, and she knows mine.

K'lei-eth watches as Savalos' hands stop shaking.

"The Daemon has taken my friend. You said it's still a prisoner to the human's desires, and wishes. Johnnie always called her his 'Dove', and treated her like a trophy, a cherished thing. I expect he will continue to do that. He'll use her, and flaunt her to further his designs. She helped us when we landed on Oremor, she gave us a safe haven, and time to get our bearings, as well as what information she could provide with her Arbiter Rank. Johnnie and the daemon will expect her to continue doing that. She's smart enough to play along 'til she can make her escape."

I think back about every scrap of info there was in Johnnie's file about Quincus. Anything that would allow me to get inside her head. Places she goes to, where she lives, anything....

When they reach the beach Savalos takes his seat in front of K'lei-eth as he offers it to him. As the Farseer's voice betrays a tinge of sadness, the acolyte realizes that the Eldar knows what he is thinking.

"...both still yearn to protect their faithful."

Might be talking about himself as well. Kinda funny how much we both have in common.

Who is your Sunshine K'lei-eth?

The Fertility Shrine has a special significance to him. More so than his faith in his pantheon, even though he is certainly more devout than any priest I have ever seen. Faithful, not fanatical. The true place for religion. This place is personal, it has sentiment.

"I would love to hear the living myth of your people. And, if you would like, I can in turn share the stories of my own Family, of Wolf and Man."


The Grey Way, The Canting Court

Taking his seat on the plush leathers of the Sabrewolf's rear seat, Uriah settles in as Stroinigli pulls away from the alleyway's mouth and slowly rolls along the congested vehicle lanes crisscrossing the Canting Court. The heady scents of the carnival atmosphere on the path to the Grey Way trickle in through the cracked window; fried foods, lho-smoke, and the vaguely mildewy tang of fungoid spores mingled with the condensation from the hive's air-circulators high overhead.

The anxiety he felt upon entering the groundcar dissipates almost instantly, his empathically attuned psychic senses carrying to him the near mortal fear of the heavy-set man that sits beside him. The psyker's other, more conventional senses, finely honed as a servant of the Inquisition, tell him as much, if not more, than what his psychic sensitivity has in short order. The scent of nervous sweat filling the groundcar's cabin, the visible flinch from the burly man as you take your seat, and finally the beaded sweat on his troubled brow.

He is largely unremarkable in appearance, overweight and somewhat jowly, with a poorly groomed salt-and-pepper beard. Blotchy, ruddy skin on his face is still covered in places on the cheeks and forehead with healing scratches and scrapes. You are certain he is terrified of you; moreso than just for the fact you are a voidborn and a psyker. You sense he knows you serve the Holy Ordos from his reaction. Still, he puts on a brave face, and reluctantly offers one meaty hand, almost as if he expects you to bite it off like some bogeyman.

"I...I'm Jerimus Bothle, Senior Shipping Clerk for Ylesium Claustrum, Unduz II, subcontractee to the Oremor 7th Penal Legion, and my boss desperately needs your help."


Male Human Savant Militant (Rank 4)

I will shake his hand.

"I am Uriah Trantor, and your boss is?"


V-Block ~ The Oubliette, Septcell #7

Ryuk, Vincent:
Yes, Ryuk can use his psychic abilities. The only thing is that they are powerless to effect the structure of the cell itself, as it is comprised of a psy-channelling/dampening material that absorbs any psychic energy directed into it. In a way, it functions as a huge, psy-dampening battery (one of seven such cells) whose primary purpose was to confine the Prisoner in the central cell in the middle of the Septcells. It even draws off some of Ryuk's latent energy to power itself. Of course, with the Prisoner free, this is largely pointless now. Ryuk does not know this technical information per se, but he does know from long experience that nothing he can do, physically or psychically can effect the cell itself.

Vincent however, is more well-versed in the technical aspect of the Septcell, more from a theoretically inference given how the clones grown on level 26 were employed. He knows without a doubt he is staring at the last surviving member of the Inquisition's Erishkahal-77 Initiative, designate: Ryuk.

Looking at the naked man Vincent unexpectedly is overwhelmed with surprise, quite a rare occurrence for a genius with perfect recall capable of piecing together even the most unconnected of enigmatic strands. The perfect clarity of it all is so sudden he nearly laughs aloud:

The singing that has been invading his mind originated from this Ryuk, and the sanity-scarring, horrific buzzing that always followed was to drown out whatever message, whatever plea for help it carried. The sound of the pestilential, swarming flies was born of another, one who is no longer here.

Ryuk regards the Stranger, who is not himself, who is another with a mixture of awe and incredulity. Touching this one's mind is difficult, the reason it originally stood out to him when he cast his song to the Warp. He stops humming the tune under his breath, as it dawns on him that the Stranger has finally heard his call to be free.

The Stranger is here.


Ryuk points at Vincent, "Stranger... here."


The Grey Way, The Canting Court

Uriah Trantor wrote:

I will shake his hand.

"I am Uriah Trantor, and your boss is?"

For a second, Jerimus Bothle seems confounded by your simple question. When he answers his voice is halting and far away. It is clear he has been through quite an ordeal.

"He is..."

"I...I guess I don't rightly know just who he is, Inquisitor Uriah. Vincent Sepheris is his name. He's my friend...I think. He's also my boss; Senior Clerk of the Ylesium Claustrum. Beyond that, I know that he is something far more than what he's shown me all these years we've been playing Regicide."

He stares off through the other window into the crowds of Canting Court, distant again.

"I guess there's a pretty damn good reason I never beat him at that game."


The Wellspring of E'auvennade

As Savalos ponders Sunshine, and by extension, Juan Rico's fate, the Farseer begins to speak:

"Behind me is erected a shrine, one raised by my own hands, a shrine that many of my people would say is consecrated to one of our dead gods. Her name was Isha, a goddess of healing and renewal, and she was the mother of my people, thought slain with almost the entirety of her pantheon during the Fall of my race. There is a legend among a handful of my kind, myself included, who believe otherwise. The destroyer of our gods, the Despoiler, the Prince of Pleasure, whose name I will not speak, was said to have taken Isha as a prize instead of slaying her, a trophy if you will of its foul machinations to slay our gods, to be further debased and bound as its concubine until the end of time. Once she realized her fate, Isha cried out for deliverance, but imprisoned in the Warp none could hear her save one; another of the Ruinous Powers, a rival to the Despoiler. Drawn by the sacred vestiges of Isha's purview of healing and rejuvenation, the Grandfather of Decay fought for an age and a day, and Isha was claimed by him, rescued from her prior captor to fall into the grasp of another daemon-god. Strangely, the Grandfather of Decay proved a better warden for her, holding an adulation for Isha in the strange and horrid way that only the mercurial Lord of Pestilence can. A goddess of rejuvenation and a god of disease seemed an odd pairing, but the Grandfather of Decay adores her like no other. However, his adoration manifests as only a Chaos god can, keeping her trapped in a rusting cage in his Plague-Garden, in the corner of a room where he stirs the cauldron in which he creates all of his horrific maladies. As a goddess of healing, Isha can cure herself of any of his diseases. The Grandfather of Decay gleefully exploits this by force-feeding our imprisoned goddess his latest creation to see how long it will take Isha to overcome its efficacy. If he is pleased, he releases it upon some unsuspecting world, if not, he starts over, working at his cauldron until he has something new to give to his 'companion'. Whilst he is busy working though, Isha takes advantage of his distraction to instruct mortals on how to rid themselves of Nurgle's poxes...mortals like your blessed Saint Trobriund."

K'lei-eth lowers his eyes, reverently, before speaking again.

"My entire life, the longevity of which has become both boon and curse for my quest, has been dedicated to freeing my goddess. Throughout the labyrinthine pathways of the continuum, the dead-ends of causality and the inevitable, even the machinations and eternity-long schemes of pure possibility that the Changer of Ways has enacted have not stopped me. This world plays a pivotal role in my quest, as well as the fate of the entirety of what humankind knows as the Calyx Expanse. We share common cause. Today I will begin to teach you as my disciple, and you will learn the true ways that those who follow my Path have used to combat the Ruinous Powers of the Warp."

K'lei-eth looks up at you again with his ancient, jade-green eyes, probing, gauging your strength of purpose and the integrity of your very soul.

"You were chosen by me for a reason, Savalos Thul. For in the vials you carry are the tears of my goddess."

With these words begins the tutelage of Savalos Thul, a tutelage that in the mind of the acolyte can only be measured in years, years spent in the unchanging oasis of the continuum of time itself that Farseer K'lei-eth has created to further his own quest. Years that change him in ways he never thought possible.

I listen to K'lei-eth's story about Isha. My heart goes out to him, and his goddess, even though she is not The God Emperor. She shares his protective beneficence, to chase away the nightmares that prey on us all. The Tarot Card of the Plague being cleansed, the healing of Sigmunt, and watching the droplet cleanse the tainted font before my very eyes. I know what K'lei-eth speaks is true. If my people ever heard the words I am about to speak, I probably would take a round to the head...

"K'lei-eth, I believe your Goddess is alive. And for my part I would like to help her."


The Duct Wolf Sanctuary, The Infirmary, Seconds(?) or Years (?) Later...

Savalos Thul opens his eyes in another place, the coarse canvas of a Guard surplus cot chafing his cheek. Looking across from him are the staring eyes of a corpse; an old man, inked, one of his own. A name swims like a lost fish from the depth of his memory, upward until it coalesces into a name in his numb mind.

Tygault...his name was Tygault, and he was my friend...

This man. This place. This Now.

They seem like memories returning from long ago, but even as he thinks this fallacy, the continuum reasserts itself, grounding him in the When, his Now. The teachings, the meditations, all those things taught to him by the Farseer remain, but now they pivot in his consciousness, taking their place in a Past, that for his body, if not his mind, never truly happened.

Unable to look into the glassy eyes of his childhood mentor, he rolls up on to his other side, the many aches in his body barking back at him. When he looks up again, he sees he is not alone.

Sitting in a broken chair beside his cot, her head buried in her hands while she weeps softly, is Aebena.


Male Human Outlaw

Trying to shake off the fog of another reality, another time. My heart breaks as my eyes open to her tears. Damn hasn't she been though enough. All I want is for my Aebe to be happy. For us to be happy.

My mind sorts the events of the now. Find Krade, warn Uriah about Johnnie, rescue Sunshine. Find a place with 7 petals, even though I truly don't understand why. Though I do know the significance of the number 7 now. And thats more than enough to give me pause.

Leaning up on the bed.

"Aebe...How long have I been out?"

"Have to get to the Gran Pallazzar to warn the others..."

I try to lift myself up from the cot.


Male Human Savant Militant (Rank 4)
Ahmazzi wrote:

The Grey Way, The Canting Court

For a second, Jerimus Bothle seems confounded by your simple question. When he answers his voice is halting and far away. It is clear he has been through quite an ordeal.

"He is..."

"I...I guess I don't rightly know just who he is, Inquisitor Uriah. Vincent Sepheris is his name. He's my friend...I think. He's also my boss; Senior Clerk of the Ylesium Claustrum. Beyond that, I know that he is something far more than what he's shown me all these years we've been playing Regicide."

He stares off through the other window into the crowds of Canting Court, distant again.

"I guess there's a pretty damn good reason I never beat him at that game."

"I am an acolyte, not an Inquisitor, but when you speak to me you are speaking to my Master."


Male Human Savant Militant (Rank 4)

"When we get to the safehouse, you will tell me what you have seen. I can tell you have seen something that can break a man who is not strong enough. You will be strong enough, and be concise, and give me the information you carry."


Uriah, please make a Routine [+20] Inquiry skill test.


Male Human Savant Militant (Rank 4)

Inquiry Test(14 + 20) = 1d100 ⇒ 76
Not even close
spend a fate point 1d100 ⇒ 72
Just as bad.


Ryuk wrote:
Ryuk points at Vincent, "Stranger... here."

Troubled by his new associate's words, Vincent looks about furtively.

"Where?"

Then, with a flash of realization, he looks back to Ryuk with a sheepish expression and puts a finger to his chest.

"Wait, me?"


"Yes...summons... understand?"


Ryuk clenches his right hand into a fist as he struggles to find words to convey complex ideas simply.

"Dreams...visions... me." Ryuks rubs his temples as the strain of this new exercise is taking its toll.

"Name." Ryuk points at Vincent.

Vincent, you still have unhealed wounds, yes?


The Duct Wolf Sanctuary, The Infirmary

At Savalos' hoarse words Aebena raises her head, bleary eyes going wide with relief when she sees that he has awoken. She crosses the room in a heartbeat, the fierce urgency of her embrace combined with the deadness in his limbs nearly knocking the acolyte from the cot. They hold one another silently for a time, foreheads pressing together, their feelings unspoken but through their shared gaze. Her kiss is just as sweet as the last time, and when they finally separate Savalos finds himself wondering about long years lost in an eyeblink and how any single moment can feel like an eternity.

"Sav...I thought..."

The desolate look on her face from moments ago tells you everything you needed to know about what Aebena thought.

"Are you alright? They said you lost consciousness a few hours ago, and when I arrived, the look on Luceros' face...when they said they couldn't rouse you..."


Male Human Outlaw

"I'm fine Aebe."

I brush my hand against her cheek.

"Just my body forcing me to take a time out I guess. Nothing like a forced nap to make you feel better, clear ones head."

"Can you help me up? I need to get ahold of people."

I test my footing before standing. If I stumble I know Aebena will never let me out of this cot.

"The Ol' She Wolf is dead Aebe. I'm Alpha now. The thing that chased us on the stairs got her."

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