"Oh frak! Now we're in for it!"
"Ivaanov, can you do something with that door there?!"
***BZORRRRT***
Ivaanov, looking paler than usual, still hasn't managed to catch his breath. His vox lets out a strangled snatch of feedback, and while doubled over, he instead points to Iacton in answer to Johnnie.
Albrek frantically begins to sling large chunks of fallen stone into a makeshift barricade, before leveling his lasgun atop it and aiming for the gaps in the fallen pipework behind you.
"They're coming! They're coming! Get that damned thing open!"
Iacton quickly swipes the card through what remains of the card reader then tugs on the door.
"Iacton, Ivaanov needs your help."
Johnnie also levels his weapon in the direction of their pursuers. "Try not to present so big a target for them. Use the cover."
Iacton quickly swipes the card through what remains of the card reader then tugs on the door.
Iacton quickly produces the yellowing card and swipes it through the reader. Nothing seems to happen for a long time. Just when he begins to think that the reader is not working, a groan of hydraulic driven actuators sounds from within the bulkhead and it slowly swings open inward. A lambent green glow shines from the area beyond the door.
Looking at the man. "Hey where is the Medicae? We need to get her help before she bleeds out." Gesturing to the limp form in Druuthers arms. I offer my hand to help the man up.
"Any second now... is the door open?"
"Any second now... is the door open?"
"Yes, it's opening. Go ahead, I'll help Ivaanov." Iacton then moves to help the techpriest up.
I will go in and cover the way with my laspistol, until everyone else in.
Saint Trobriund's House of Worldly Mercy
Looking at the man. "Hey where is the Medicae? We need to get her help before she bleeds out." Gesturing to the limp form in Druuthers arms. I offer my hand to help the man up.
The sickly indigen holds his hands up before him in a warding gesture as you approach yelling for assistance. He cowers back against the steps when you lean over him, dropping the nightclub and shielding his scarred face.
Spire #16 sub-basement maintenance accessway number 232
As soon as the door opens wide enough, Iacton rushes over to assist Ivaanov, who has collapsed while trying to negotiate a particularly high pile of fallen masonry. Lifting the surprisingly heavy tech-priest to his feet again, the pair stagger toward the door as Uriah holds the breach, pointing his pistol into the darkness.
Johnnie and Albrek keep a vigilant overwatch on the tangled mass of twisted pipe and contorted support struts as Ishmael withdraws to the door. Just as the cleric leaves his place on the makeshift wall of rubble, a large segment of battered, rusted pipework begins to rattle, grinding noises coming from beneath it as something's gnarled claws try to dig a path underneath it.
A horrible howl, somehow akin both to a Terran wolf and an echo-locating cetacean begins from behind the deadfall, sonically agonizing to your hearing at such a close proximity.
"This is neutral ground you crazy fragger. I ain't going be bruisen you. How about being a gent and assist us with helping the lady here. She needs a sawbones bad.
Saint Trobriund's House of Worldly Mercy
"This is neutral ground you crazy fragger. I ain't going be bruisen you. How about being a gent and assist us with helping the lady here. She needs a sawbones bad.
The man freezes momentarily as you try to calm him, but one glance at the ogryn peering at him over the gouged banister is all that it takes for him to become terrified again and make good his escape when he realizes you aren't going to immediately attack him.
He flees up the steps as fast as his legs will carry him, yelling at the top of his lungs.
"Doc! Ya better get your gun! There's some crazy ganger here, armed to the teeth, 'an he brought a giant 'withem!"
I shake my head as the old man scrambles up the steps like common prey. I walk calmly up the steps after him. "Come on Druuther. The fragger said the Doc is up this way."
I have a woman here in need of serious patching!
Spire #16 sub-basement maintenance accessway number 232
Johnnie dives through the door.
Spire #16 sub-basement maintenance accessway number 232
Johnnie dives through the door.
Iacton has managed to get the tech-priest through the door, nearly dragging him the final few meters.
Albrek cooly levels his lasgun as the first of the slavering duct wolves begins to scramble out from underneath the pipe, its single-legged hindquarters struggling for purchase, unable to quite squeeze itself through. The sounds of the rest of pack are clearly audible from the other side.
Johnnie tries to estimate the distance to the door and the potential speed of the xenos predator, and doesn't like he and Albrek's odds. Chances are, if they both go, this first fragger through will get to one of them before they reach the door.
Glancing up toward the top of the pipe suspended over the frantically digging beast Rico notices it is only being suspended by a single rivet piercing a rusted out support strut. It would be a tough shot...but...
I have a woman here in need of serious patching!
As you and Druuther, who seems finally to be tiring, reach the top of the steps, the skinny man disappears through an open doorway. The hallway at the top of the steps contains all of the telltales you'd expect in an improvised rooming house or hospice; gurneys with filthy plastic-sheeted mattresses line the corridor, a few stray bottles and food trays are left like sentinels outside of partially closed doors, and outmoded medicae equipment rests in a corner alcove.
Seconds after the man steps through the door, another man clad in dirty medicae scrubs steps out into the hall, a look of perplexed concern on his face. He is middle-aged, slightly overweight, and carries himself with a resigned casualness that makes it seem like he faces this type of scenario daily. Perhaps he does. He raises the older model holdout pistol he holds in one hand, bringing it up slowly to reveal an elaborate, swirling pattern of black tattooing on both arms.
When he turns in your direction, his eyes gaze slowly upward, over your shoulder to look upon the now testy ogryn, and they widen slightly behind his crescent-moon spectacles.
Dr. Emrit Kirsch asks his question almost disinterestedly resigned to whatever you may decide to say.
"Well, if you mean to rob me, you're wasting your time; I don't have much. If you mean to kill me, I'd say you'd be doing me a favor the way this past week has been going, and if you want something else, I can honestly tell you, I don't know how much I really will care."
Once Ishmael goes through I tell him: "Watch this way for others."
I turn towards where Albrek and Rico are.
I was thinking of using Unnatural Aim and fire on the first Duct Wolf.
Psychic phenomona=
Warp madness
Power is manifested
My shot is
I needed a 68 or less so I made by a full 6 degrees, Damage=
Rightous Fury attempt=
Failed so normal damage.
"Albrek, I am not a big fan of last stands. But I am the better shot, I think. Go on. Dive for it."
Johnnie holds his fire until he can get a bead on his target. He tries to calm his pounding heart, aims and pulls the trigger.
Once Ishmael goes through I tell him: "Watch this way for others."
I turn towards where Albrek and Rico are.
I was thinking of using Unnatural Aim and fire on the first Duct Wolf.
1d10+5Psychic phenomona=1d100
Warp madnessPower is manifested
My shot is1d100
I needed a 68 or less so I made by a full 6 degrees, Damage=1d10+1
Rightous Fury attempt=1d100
Failed so normal damage.
I look Emrit in the eyes. "Well Doc. This Lady is in need of your skills. If she dies because you didn't help her..." I look back at Druuther and the still form of Quincus. I look back at Kalaziel with her expressionless eyes before turning back to the Doc. It clear the all the excitement of the day is starting to catch up with me.
"Is your word at helping people any good, or is it a lie? If your not man enough to save her. Then tell me quick where I can find someone who has the damn nerve to patch her up!" I give a look to him like he doesn't want to consider what happens if she dies.
Saint Trobriund's House of Worldly Mercy
I look Emrit in the eyes. "Well Doc. This Lady is in need of your skills. If she dies because you didn't help her..." I look back at Druuther and the still form of Quincus. I look back at Kalaziel with her expressionless eyes before turning back to the Doc. It clear the all the excitement of the day is starting to catch up with me.
"Is your word at helping people any good, or is it a lie? If your not man enough to save her. Then tell me quick where I can find someone who has the damn nerve to patch her up!" I give a look to him like he doesn't want to consider what happens if she dies.
Kirsch seems nonplussed. The indigen who fled before steps back out into the corridor behind him, still clenching the nightstick. A few of the neighboring doors open a crack as other curious eyes peer out to see what the commotion is.
When Kirsch responds, it follows a scathing glance at the cowardly dregs he has aided who now fail to come to his defense. He looks like a man who has given up.
"Look, if you are trying to threaten me..."
It seems as though your words start to sink in as he is in mid-sentence.
"Sav? Savalos Thul? Is that you? I haven't seen you since, since..."
His face darkens momentarily as if he is remembering something unpleasant.
"Either way, get her in here. I'll do what I can."
Kirsh turns to re-enter the room, but not before cursing and kicking one of the doors closed, causing the nosy indigen behind it to let out a startled cry. He promptly grabs something from his scrub coat and waves you into the chamber, which appears to be a combination office and ten year outmoded medicae surgery.
initiative=Withdraw action(I do not want the Duct wolves frenzied or give the others a corruption point.)
Aim for the hole for the next duct wolf.
"Aye Emrit its me. Good to see you too." I motion for Druuther to bring Quincus into the room where Emrit is.
I will wait for him to start working on Quincus before I take my leave to go outside and see where Kalaziel went off to. Hoping she is still staring at the statue.
"Albrek, I am not a big fan of last stands. But I am the better shot, I think. Go on. Dive for it."
Johnnie holds his fire until he can get a bead on his target. He tries to calm his pounding heart, aims and pulls the trigger.
Albrek nods grimly, shoulders his lasgun and runs for the door, waving off Uriah as the psyker tries to make his way back to the makeshift wall of rubble.
Johnnie center his shotgun on the rusty strut, aiming for the head of rivet. The snarling duct wolf inches closer, only meters away, and hisses loudly as if it somehow senses what the arbitrator is trying.
When the shotgun goes off, Johnnie's eyes are dazzled from the bright muzzle flash in the near darkness. Wincing, he looks up in time to see the entire reinforcing strut holding several tons of suspended piping explode in a shower of sparks. His survival instincts kick in when he realizes what he has wrought. A rumble like a god stirring sounds in the close confines of the tunnel and the entire wall of debris begins an inexorable collapse, the lowest pipe crushing the skittering duct wolf in an instant, obliterating it from view, blowing up a surging cloud of stone dust and debris.
Rico runs, reaching the door while the noises grow even louder behind him, forcing his way through and pushing Albrek before him. Emerging with the others into the alleyway on the other side, a great cloud of stone dust blasts through the narrow gap left by the bulkhead door, the entire floor of the alley vibrating with the disaster on the other side.
As Rico tries to gather his wits about him, he looks to a shuddering stack of plastic trash bins. Perched precariously on the edge of one that is still shaking from the violence of the collapse on the other side of the wall is the cherubim, peering down at him with what he thinks for a moment is the hint of a smile.
"The warp take you! That was not funny!" Johnnie screams at the cherub.
"Aye Emrit its me. Good to see you too." I motion for Druuther to bring Quincus into the room where Emrit is.
I will wait for him to start working on Quincus before I take my leave to go outside and see where Kalaziel went off to. Hoping she is still staring at the statue.
Kirsch allows Druuther to lay Quincus upon the table before rolling up his sleeves. He gives her a once over from head to toe, and then looks back at Savalos.
"She's in a bad way."
He begins by tearing away the last of her Judicium robes and exposing the worst of her abdominal wound before probing it, first with his fingers, and then with a small probe. He rushes over to a wall mounted sink and begins to scrub his hands as blood seeps out from the repositioned bandage.
"She's out, so I'm assuming you or someone else drugged her for the pain, because she should be screaming fit to be heard like one of the pleasure girls down at the Painted Saint. I need to know, was it medicae or some street narco?"
After he finishes scrubbing up, he returns, eyeballing the ogryn and then his wound from a professional standpoint, before slowly peeling away the bandage. The wound that is exposed is more grievous than you first thought, a wide, angled slash that begins just below Quincus' navel and travels to the bottom of her rib cage on the right side of her body. Blood flows freely from it. Kirsh takes an object from a shelf that looks almost like a caulking gun, and proceeds to aim it into the wound.
Druuther lets out a low, rumbling, threatening sound.
"Tell the big lummox to calm down, it is a foam coagulant, first thing we need to do is stop the bleeding."
Seeing you backing away toward the door, Kirsch shouts.
"Just where do you think you're going? Stay here, I may need you to hold her down if I need to bind it again, her friend here is too big, he'd just get in my way."
As he moves to toss aside her shredded robes, he looks more closely at it, and then curses.
"Sav...Sav...what did you bring me...this is a Judicium official's vestment. Just what the hell is going on?"
"The drug came out of a medicae pack." I sigh and move back toward the operating table. I take a long look at Quincus. I watch as the blood runs down her side with each rising and falling of her chest. The raw meat that is exposed and her irregular breathing. I look up at Druuther. "Its okay. Sit outside and get some rest. Nothing you can do here. Don't worry she's a fighter. Don't worry Doc won't tend to your wound til he knows how she will fare." I look back down at the still features on her face. My eyes follow the scar that runs across its features. "Druuther go get Kalaziel. She should still be by the front door."
"Emrit you got something she can bite down on. If she wakes up."
"Best you burn those robes, and all its markings. Get her some underhiver stitchings to wear." I am silent for a minute. My mind racing over a thousand scenario's, trying to piece together everything that has happened today.
I get ready to brace Quincus's shoulders in case she wakes. I look up to Emrit to answer his final question. "Hell's coming."
Changing the subject so Emrit doesn't focus on my answer to much.
"So have you seen little Maia and her family recently?"
Iacton stops to catch his breath. "Kalaziel. Do you know which way the others went?"
Changing the subject so Emrit doesn't focus on my answer to much.
"So have you seen little Maia and her family recently?"
Iacton stops to catch his breath. "Kalaziel. Do you know which way the others went?"
Looking up after catching your breath, you notice that the cherubim has already fluttered further down the alleyway in the direction of a short flight of rubbish strewn steps adjacent to a wider roadway. She has alighted upon a dead lamppost.
She looks back at you, her features set in her customary blank expression.
Changing the subject so Emrit doesn't focus on my answer to much.
"So have you seen little Maia and her family recently?"
Kirsch's eyebrows rise slightly at your answer, his forehead furrowing as he attempts to remove the last of the hastily applied medicae tape ringing Quincus' torso.
When you ask your question so quickly after his, it is impossible for him to hide his reaction, so taken aback is he. He glances nervously in your direction before looking away again, rather deliberately focusing on gathering a plastic sleeved kit containing suturing materials. His face has turned almost ashen. He gamely tries to follow through with his deceit, but it is a hollow, desperate attempt.
"Sorry, Sav, can't say that I have. Honestly, I don't think I've seen any of them since before you left...that is, to wherever you went..."
He gives you a sidelong glance, you think to determine how successful his lie was.
I look up, and give a hard stare into the Doc's eyes. "You always did make a lousy liar. So why not tell me straight, and catch me up on some history. Not like we are going anywhere for a bit." As I put my hands on Quincus's shoulders. I notice for the first time my furs are completely soaked in her blood.
Iacton stops to catch his breath. "Kalaziel. Do you know which way the others went?"Looking up after catching your breath, you notice that the cherubim has already fluttered further down the alleyway in the direction of a short flight of rubbish strewn steps adjacent to a wider roadway. She has alighted upon a dead lamppost.
She looks back at you, her features set in her customary blank expression.
"Kalaziel, would you show us the way to the others. Remember, we are not as fast as you and can not fly.
Kalaziel regards Uriah with the same inscrutable expression that has remained on her waxen face since shortly after the shuttle landed. It is with some surprise to all of you when she speaks again.
"Follow."
Kalaziel's high, melodic, sing-song voice utters this single word, and then she flutters out of the alleyway, flying high above the thoroughfare beyond. She roosts again on another dimly lit lamppost that lists precariously to one side, still within view and peering back at you curiously.
I look up, and give a hard stare into the Doc's eyes. "You always did make a lousy liar. So why not tell me straight, and catch me up on some history. Not like we are going anywhere for a bit." As I put my hands on Quincus's shoulders. I notice for the first time my furs are completely soaked in her blood.
Kirsch sighs, deeply, the sound of man filled with regret.
"Listen, you always were a perceptive one, Sav. I never understood why you didn't pull yourself up from this dump. You were nothing like the others in your little 'club', and maybe that's why I've always liked you. 'Fair enough, you say, but that still makes you a liar, Emrit'. Of course, you'd be right. I'm not denying it. Hell, I think I may have been waiting the last two years for you to ask me that question. The conscience is a funny thing. You'd think after all I've been through, it would be something I could just dismiss out of hand. But, I'll tell you something, kid. It doesn't work that way. I mean, look around. Just why do I do this to myself? Sometimes I don't even know..."
Kirsch rubs his hands across his tattoos, tracing the faded lines and whorls with his fingertips.
"But I do. I still want to do what's right."
He looks you directly in the eye, and you can see his pain.
"You do, too. Whatever happens Sav, don't lose your way."
Emrit Kirsch breaks eye contact with you for a moment, staring back at Quincus' pale, nearly lifeless form.
"I'll tell you what happened, Sav, but not now. You want to save her? Fine. Then help me. I promise once I'm feeling good about her prognosis, I'll tell you everything."
Kirsch begins smoothing the sheet covering the clerk's abdomen, his mind somewhere else, far away.
"You may even forgive me. Likely not. But one way or another, I have to unburden myself, whatever happens."
I will follow Kalaziel.
"I'll help you. No worries about that. I didn't come all this way to watch her die." I stare down at Quincus's expressionless face. As if I am trying to read something. Then I look back up to Emrit.
"Lets save Sunshine here. Then after, when shes resting we can have a proper talk. I have three years of questions to catch up on."
Ishmael looks on in bafflement as Uriah strides out of the alley, following Kalaziel.
"So, what? Now we are just going to follow that thing around like some preening lecher follows his chosen courtesan? Where are Thul and the others then? I trust it not. There is something foul about its countenance."
Albrek shakes his head, following Uriah out of the alley.
"Fair enough, Ishmael, you stay here, it looks like a safe enough neighborhood."
Saint Trobriund's House of Worldly Mercy
Doctor Emrit Kirsch nods, and begins clearing a stainless steel tray of the dirty gauze bandages he removed a short time ago. He replaces them with the suture kit, sterilization strips, and some manner of hand cauterization device.
"Alright, more than likely, even as narc'ed up as she is, this is going to hurt her pretty badly. I'm going to inject a numbing agent just below the wound, but chances are, once I begin the cleansing and stitching, she is going to stir. We'll restrain her legs so we don't take a boot to the jaw, but you are going to have to manage her arms, because we're going to have to allow her some 'give' when she moves. If we bind her hands too, she'd likely strain so much she'd pull the sutures and bleed out. So, you need to hold her down, but allow her to move a bit, but not so much so that she clocks me while I'm working, alright?"
You notice Emrit's hands are shaking as he leans over the tray. Noticing you notice, he smiles.
"Don't worry, they always do this before surgery. They'll even out in a minute or so."
"No worries Doc. You have stitched me up enough times. Just let me know when you start." I firmly put my hands on her shoulders. "Ready." Deep down I am nervous as hell, but unlike the Doc I don't shake. Man I wish I had a smoke or a drink.
"Well, Ivaanov, time to move." Iacton stands up and silently stalks after the cherub.
"Then stay here. We will contact you when we find Thul.", he says as he passes Ishmael.