Spire #16 sub-basement maintenance accessway number 232
Druuther chortles at Savalos' remark, powerful arms cradling the autocannon and centering his aim as the duct wolf draws closer and closer. With his weapon in overwatch the creature seems to have little hope of making up the distance in spite of its speed and erratic movement given the massive firepower trained upon it.
The focused ogryn is about to depress the trigger when his slightly pointed ear perks up at some sound unheard by the others. Distracted, and with the duct wolf a moment away he risks a quick glance overhead. The second he looks away, you all hear it.
A loud squealing, as of rusted metal straining under some great weight.
Druuther frantically pivots his bulky frame with surprising grace, swiveling the autocannon around, behind and above him. With a final agonized wail of tortured metal, two more of the pack pounce from atop the pipe seven meters overhead, diving into your midst.
The ogryn's gravelly yell is both warning and oath.
"Mistress, by the Throne, DOWN!"
The deafening roar of the autocannon fills your ears, and all hell breaks loose.
Unfortunately two more of the creatures were shadowing you from atop the pipe, and are now leaping down into the midst of the group. Druuther detected them at the last possible moment, and has decided to fire upon them as they pounce. One of them is dropping from above Quincus, who is perceived as the weakest of your "pack", its packmates's trajectory carries it to the ogryn. The charging duct wolf is coming directly for you, at point, in the tunnel.
Forbidden Lore(Daemonology) 1d100
Examining the gameboard, you believe the sigils and designs are some manner of hexagramatic warding, although to what purpose, you can only guess.
"The symbols on this board are odd, almost like it is some kind of warding, but I do not know what it means. It could be dangerous to use. But I do know that black was one move away from winning with a checkmate, and white was in mate."
The logical part of my brain itches at the incomplete game. A good tech never leaves a job undone. That is a mantra the masters drummed into us when we were in our first years of training.
I turn to Uriah, my occular implants whirring slightly as they adjust for focus "Well then, perhaps you would be so good as to complete the checkmate"
Realising the possible repurcussions of such a move though, I take a few steps back from the voidborn after saying so. "I'll just stand over here so I can get a better view of the entire scene though shall I. Hmmm, maybe just a few more steps. Yes.. much better. Play away sir"
I finish the game, moving the piece into position.
Ivaanov takes a final step back, realizing what you are about to do a moment before the others, and communicates his confidence in you by his reassuring withdrawal.
The jet black Inquisitor piece takes the white Regent, and Uriah deftly removes it from the board between thumb and forefinger, replacing it with the Inquisitor. The square it comes to rest upon depresses ever so slightly with a faint scrape of wood on wood, followed by a sharp, percussive hiss from the side of the board.
The left-hand side of the box-like regicide board protrudes slightly now where a fingernail width seam has appeared. A narrow drawer, invisible to the naked eye on first inspection, has been released from its locked position. You need only pull it open now, it seems.
Uriah, as far as you can discern, nothing untoward happened when you completed the game. You have an inkling by his bemused consternation that Ivaanov may have been mildly disappointed by this.
Rico raises an eyebrow upon hearing the drawer open, pulling he and Iacton out of their quiet conversation regarding what the pict-corder book may have observed.
"Since you are his men, and know his ways, would one of the two of you like to open the drawer?"
"Since you are his men, and know his ways, would one of the two of you like to open the drawer?"
Iacton cautiously reaches out to the drawer and pulls it open, his other hand inching towards the hilt of his knife.
I do not back off. I watch with interest as Iacton opens the drawer.
In Krade's Offices
Ivaanov cannot be certain, but he believes the sound of the drawer opening is similar to that of the sound a stasis chest makes when the seal is broken.
In Krade's Offices
"Since you are his men, and know his ways, would one of the two of you like to open the drawer?"Iacton cautiously reaches out to the drawer and pulls it open, his other hand inching towards the hilt of his knife.
With Uriah watching closely from beside him, Iacton cautiously slides the drawer open.
Revealed within is a shallow cavity lined with a black satin pillow. Resting upon the pillow are two very curious objects, side by side.
The first is an ornate golden key, six inches in length, possessing an elaborately serrated edge comprised of a multitude of teeth of varying lengths and widths. The head of the key is an oval-shaped rim of golden metal surrounding a transparent, egg-like stone. It is hard to discern from this distance, but it appears that the egg contains a smattering of ivory colored chips of some unknown material. Markings and sigils similar to those on the outside of the box are minutely acid-etched into the shaft of the key.
The second object is even more bizarre. A long, plumed, iridescent turquoise feather whose edges are as variegated as the key, with multiple whorls, curves, and spiky protrusions. The sharply pointed quill of the feather is of such a deep, liquid gray color that it seems to be formed of petrified quicksilver. Couched in the center of the feather's widest point is a spiraling, circular shape reminiscent of both a staring eye and an exploding supernova, so bright, lurid and vivid are the many green, orange, and yellow tints that comprise it.
There is something peculiarly unsettling about the feather, but you cannot say what it might be.
"I would suggest that the two of you take custody of those two items, since you are his representatives here. That feather feels disturbing, so be careful with it. I would like to show them to my fellow acolytes, but other than that, I would suggest that you keep them hidden and protected from others."
"Are we able to recover what has been recorded? If so please do so."
"If not and there is nothing else to be found here, let us rejoin with the others as was planned."
I lock eyes with the Alpha. No fear, but my heart races with excitement. Duct Wolf staring down Duct Wolf. The mark of respect. "I will give you your chance to think this through. I know your a smart Fragger. No point either of us dying today. Your belly is full." I talk with the Wolf like I have known him all his life. Like we are brothers or old friends. I fire my first shot above him in warning.
"So whats it going to be? We bleed each other, or we going to be friendly like?"
I hold my gun and wait.
"If he lunges, vent him."
The explosion of the shotgun firing reverberates through your eardrums when you fire it over the bounding predator's head, and you quickly rack another shell into the chamber as the drifting halo of cordite smoke dissipates into the stale air of the tunnel.
The duct wolf hesitates for a moment, a big male, canny and vicious, clearly the alpha of his pack and more than willing to be the bait in the ambush. Savalos yells to him over the cascading echo the gunshot, trying to intimidate the creature into submission. It seems at first as if it is working as the duct wolf slows it's charge, feinting left, then right. Licking its muzzle and snorting plumes of steamy breath into the dank air.
When the pipe creaks from overhead however, and it's mates pounce, the alpha hunches its shoulders, lets forth a terrible, ear-splitting howl combining elements both lupine and cetacean, and bounds directly toward Savalos. The hiver waits until the creature is nearly upon him before pulling the trigger of the shotgun again.
The shotgun bucks against your shoulder as it fires again, jerking the barrel upright as the duct wolf leaps upon you, the deadly spread of shot at this close range ripping through it's front left leg and paw just as the weight of the beast hits you.
The shot rips part of the wolf's forepaw off, but its slavering jaws are upon you seconds later.
At the very moment you fire, Druuther wheels around, the autocannon already thumping in his grip, aiming his burst above and behind, toward the overhanging pipe, the heavy shells ejecting from the weapon and onto the damp rockcrete with a musical, bell-tolling jangling sound.
Druuther roars his warning as the explosions from the autocannon rip through the tunnel above your heads.
The autocannon shells rips through the piping just overhead, missing the wolf pouncing upon Quincus entirely, loud, metallic, 'bonging' noises filling the tunnel with each impact. The firing weapon is both deafening and blinding with the white-hot eruption from it's muzzle flash.
Ishmael almost casually squeezes off a carefully aimed shot with his revolver at the duct wolf leaping toward Savalos, just as the great beast pounces.
The bullet passes inches over Savalos' head, the round ripping through the creature's right flank as it jumps.
The wound cripples the creature, and it crashes into the hiver, right forelimb hanging limp and useless, chest exploded outward, blood-flecked foam spewing from it's mouth into Savalos' violet hair. The wolf's weight slams Savalos to the floor of the tunnel, but the beast is clearly dead, unmoving, as it looses its last ragged breaths into his ear.
Suddenly with no viable target, the guardsman senses rather than actually sees the duct wolves pouncing from atop the pipe when Druuther spins and fires.
He quickly adjusts his aim, screaming a warning to the others that comes a moment too late.
"Above!!! Two more!!!"
Quincus pulls her laspistol up again the moment the duct wolf tackles Savalos, not daring to risk a shot, just as the first of the two wolves leaping from the pipe slams into her from above.
The creature's jaws clamp down upon Quincus' right shoulder, savaging it, even as the clerk pulls away and stumbles toward the far wall of the tunnel.
The duct wolf lands lightly on its feet and spins toward 'Dove' as she frantically tries to the re-aim the pistol in its direction, a rapidly spreading patch of blood staining her robes where the thing's teeth sunk in deeply.
While aiming for the duct wolf that landed upon his mistress, the brave ogryn ignored the second creature leaping from the pipe toward him.
Amazingly, as the burly abhuman swivels his weapon, the blunt barrel of the long, roaring gun catches the beast in mid-flight, ruining Druuther's aim, but also knocking the wolf to one side where its preternatural agility allows it to lightly land on it's three clawed paws. It quickly recovers, turning to lunge at the distracted ogryn.
Round #2
The duct wolf has nearly cornered Quincus now, and lunges in, snapping at her legs with its slavering jaws.
The creature grabs brutally ahold of the clerk's midsection, and begins to shake her violently, tearing through her robe. Quincus desperately slams the stock of her compact laspistol against the side of the wolf's head in an impotent attempt to force it to release it's grip, but it is obvious her wound is grievous and she is losing whatever strength she had very quickly.
As the ogryn looks on in horror, the second duct wolf charges his blind side and leaps through the air in his direction.
At the last possible moment, Druuther raises one beefy, flak-armored arm in front of the beast, and the creature sinks its serrated fangs deeply into the reinforced plasteel with a grating, screeching sound. As the ogryn shakes his arm, the duct wolf clings on for a few moments before ultimately releasing its vice-like bite.
Briefly I lock eyes with Quincus seeing the fear draining from her eyes with every heartbeat as the Duct Wolf digs in. Without thinking I pitch away the dead Duct Wolf moving toward her. "Maia get to the end of the tunnel and get Saw Bones over in the Grey Way. Tell him we have a Wolf attack and need him here." I toss the pass card to Kalaziel on reflex. Looking to the Wolf, "Now you Fragger I would appreciate you stop eating my Sunshine." I level my shotgun point blank pressing the barrel into the Duct Wolf, and squeeze the trigger.
Damage (1d10=9) +3=12
Savalos hurls the dead beast from atop him, and rushes by Druuther's left side, avoiding the duct wolf menacing the ogryn from the other side. Ishmael frowns as the hiver runs through his line of fire.
When he passes Kalaziel, he calls to the young girl from his past, Maia, whom she so closely resembles, a subconscious slip of the tongue. The passcard flips through the air before bouncing off of the apathetic looking cherubim's delicate hand. Kalaziel does not so much as look toward Savalos as he barks his order.
Skidding to a halt, Savalos reaches out and grabs the clerk's arm in his hand, turning her away from the creature as best he can before planting the barrel of the shotgun against its head with the other, shaking from the weight of the weapon.
When he pulls the trigger, the duct wolf's head is incinerated in a cloud of gray-green mist, blowing patches of dark fur, ocular membrane and skull in every direction. Quincus staggers backward, before falling to her side, tightly gripping her wounded abdomen.
After watching Savalos rescue Quincus, the ogryn backpedals a few steps, recognizing for the first time the danger that the final duct wolf poses to him. His face set in grim determination, too close to effectively fire his autocannon, he instead hefts the weapon high overhead before trying to slam it down on the creature's head.
The barrel of the autocannon clangs into the floor, as the predator easily sidesteps the clumsy attack.
Noting the duct wolf is preoccupied with the enraged ogryn, Ishmael strides a few paces closer, aims his pistol with both hands, and fires.
Noting the duct wolf is preoccupied with the enraged ogryn, Ishmael strides a few paces closer, aims his pistol with both hands, and fires.
"Die, filthy xenos!"
The round catches the creature in the center of it's mass, ripping through flesh, sinew and bone, causing the beast to flinch and shake with the impact.
The creature snarls, spraying discolored blood from its muzzle.
Albrek, his training as a guardsman taking over, immediately adjusts his aim when Savalos fells the duct wolf attacking Quincus. He turns instead toward the third beast, sets his lasgun to his shoulder, and fires between Ishmael and Druuther toward the creature.
The buzzing crack of the lasgun sounds but the blast of las fire sears the air above the beast, missing it entirely.
Round #3
The final duct wolf, injured and enraged, sizes up the immense ogryn for a moment, backpedals, and then ferociously charges, snapping and clawing as it tries to leap at Druuther's neck.
The creature leaps upon the abhuman, clamping its jaws shut on his right arm, between the plates of his armor, near the elbow, rending and tearing.
The ogryn begins to swing his arm like it is on fire, trying to the shake to frenzied creature free.
In Krade's Offices
The tech-priest sidles up beside Iacton and peers into the hidden drawer curiously, his auspex-goggles calibrating themselves with a soft whir so as to gain focus.
"Most peculiar. The key is of exquisite craftsmanship. I would presume there is some manner of machine spirit bound to it as well. Given the complexity of the teeth and that it is readily evident that tiny electro graft inducters have been forged into their tips. I am not familiar with the markings, but the materiel in the egg-like handle appears to be fragments of ossified material of some kind. I can surmise from the intricacy of this key that there is a very secure lock somewhere that someone wishes to remain engaged."
He places his narrow chin in hand, leaning in to get a better look at the extravagant and unsettling feather.
"Perhaps some manner of bird of paradise, non-indigenous to Oremor and unfortunately unclassifiable to my eye. Perhaps a keepsake of some kind?"
"We can ask him when we find him. Now, should we take these items with us or leave them here?"
"We can ask him when we find him. Now, should we take these items with us or leave them here?"
Ivaanov's vox cycles, a low burst of feedback sounding as he speaks again,
"Vurrr...I will take custody of the key if there is no objection. The feather is another matter. It is perhaps better that no one of us carries both."
In Krade's Offices
"I would suggest that the two of you take custody of those two items, since you are his representatives here. That feather feels disturbing, so be careful with it. I would like to show them to my fellow acolytes, but other than that, I would suggest that you keep them hidden and protected from others."
"Are we able to recover what has been recorded? If so please do so."
"If not and there is nothing else to be found here, let us rejoin with the others as was planned."
Ivaanov approaches the bound book, carefully lifting it from where it rests upon the shelf. He lays it down delicately atop the broad surface of the desk before opening it to where a gap in the pages is evident.
Revealed within is an ornate micro pict-corder, crafted from brass clockwork and duralloy plating. A small hololith screen sits in the center of the device, with numerous studs and levers. A tangle of multicolored wires connects it to a narrow channel of metal that joins the small lens in the binding.
"I am confident I can activate the machine spirits of this device if we are all in agreement that is the proper course of action to take."
Hearing the sounds of combat behind me. I know I have to make a choice. Apply pressure to Quincus's wound before she bleeds out. Or reload the shotgun and help the others. The choice is easy.
"Sunshine I need to cauterize your wound or your going to bleed out. Then I am going to tear your robes and make a quick bandage. Keep your gun pointed over my shoulder in case that fragger thinks we are an easy meal. You trust me yes?" I begin to knee down to look at the wound more closely. If my shotgun barrel is hot enough to do the job I will use it. If not I will open a shotgun cartridge poor the black powder in and light it. "Now this is going to hurt something awful. So grip my arm, or shove something between your teeth to bite down on." I wait for her acknowledgement.
Scrutiny check=
"Iacton I agree that since Ivaanov is taking the key, you should take the feather. I would not touch it with your hand, so use something to wrap it in."
"Very well then." Iacton pulls out a white handkerchief, stained brown with long-dried blood, and picks up the feather with it before returning it to his pocket.
"Now, shall we go meet with the rest of your group? I was under the impression that there was supposed to be more sent."
"Very well then." Iacton pulls out a white handkerchief, stained brown with long-dried blood, and picks up the feather with it before returning it to his pocket.
As Iacton enfolds the feather in the handkerchief, he momentarily goes rigid, his eyes squinting shut as if in pain.
When you close them for relief, an image flashes in your mind's eye, so vivid and distinct it becomes your reality for a moment. It is followed by a sound so loud and terrible it nearly paralyzes you.
The image is a dark orb of unlight searing the very sky, surrounded by a corona of roiling warpstuff.
The sound is the cry of a bird of prey screeching the very fabric of reality to shreds, it then transforms into the sound of your sister's screaming as you took her life.
Scrutiny check=1d100
Now you know why.
Hearing the sounds of combat behind me. I know I have to make a choice. Apply pressure to Quincus's wound before she bleeds out. Or reload the shotgun and help the others. The choice is easy.
"Sunshine I need to cauterize your wound or your going to bleed out. Then I am going to tear your robes and make a quick bandage. Keep your gun pointed over my shoulder in case that fragger thinks we are an easy meal. You trust me yes?" I begin to knee down to look at the wound more closely. If my shotgun barrel is hot enough to do the job I will use it. If not I will open a shotgun cartridge poor the black powder in and light it. "Now this is going to hurt something awful. So grip my arm, or shove something between your teeth to bite down on." I wait for her acknowledgement.
As you kneel before Quincus, you touch your fingertip to the hot shotgun barrel. Albrek suddenly slides in beside you, medicae bag in hand, and begins to rifle through it, speaking to you in a tone that you subconsciously associate with physicians and emergency medicae techs.
"Do me a favor, Sav, kill that thing before you kill her with your 'underhive-medicine'. I've got this covered...it was a long time ago, but I was a medic once..."
Albrek coughs loudly into his hand, wiping at his brow. He appears pale and almost feverish to you, but whether that is due to the stress of the moment or something else, you cannot be certain. There is no question as to his determination.
As the guardsman pulls away the tattered robes you can see a pair of deep, suppurating puncture wounds beneath the fold of her lightweight flak vask. They are very bad, but not the dire injury that you feared.
I nod to Albrek, and turn pulling my autopistol. I hate the feel of it in my hand. Its to light, but I can't afford the luxury to reload the duct sweeper. I aim the pistol at the Duct Wolf.
I swear in the most colorful words imaginable. Even the most brazen underhiver would blush if they were in earshot. As the pistol jams at the squeeze of the trigger.
The pistol clicks, but doesn't fire. A jam.
You can only watch as Druuther pulls the largest trench knife you have ever seen from a thigh sheath on the outside of his armor. The burly ogryn then tries to drive it into the duct wolf's head as it's locked jaws ravage his arm and the autocannon he is holding.
The swipe misses entirely, and the abhuman staggers around in an awkward dance with the slavering beast.
Iacton yells and drops the feather, backing away swiftly. "Emperor protect us. The wards were there for a reason." He collapses into a chair and rests his head in his hands, breathing hard. After a moment, he looks back up to the rest of you. "One of us has to pick it back up, if only to return it to the box."
Ishmael re-aims his pistol, casually walking to almost right beside the ogryn, and aims for the tenaciously clinging duct wolf's center mass again.
The bullet blows another hole in the duct wolf's side, the wondrously effective product of the Gunmetallican forges doing its intended work.
It takes Druuther several seconds before he realizes that his persistent attacker is dead, and he stops shaking his arm. He only prises the beast's jaws off his armor with Ishmael's assistance, and the cleric's distaste for touching the creature is clearly evident on his face with the effort.
If there is a thin metal or wood object, I will use that to pick up the feather.
If needed, my fear test=, made it by 4.
"I did not mean to endanger you, Iacton. I did warn you with what little knowledge I had."
As I say this, I slide the feather back in its place in the box and close it.
If there is a thin metal or wood object, I will use that to pick up the feather.
Uriah glances at the disturbing feather resting on the floor then picks up a slender, stiletto-like antique letter opener from the desk. He moves cautiously toward the indigo plume, treading like a man fearful of agitating a poisonous insect or serpent.
As you draw closer Uriah, powerful waves of nausea begin to fill you, and you feel the gorge rising in your throat. The scent of a powerful, cloying, lilac-scented incense pollutes your nostrils with its phantom scent. The room begins to warp and shift, the corners of objects and the edges of walls seeming to blend into curving, non-Euclidian shapes that at the same time bow outward with flexing angles in your direction. You stop dead in your tracks when you get within a few feet of the feather. If you take another step, you are fearful the effort might stop your very heart in your chest.
Your psychic sensitivity makes you perhaps the worst person in the room to attempt to handle the tainted thing.
Iacton yells and drops the feather, backing away swiftly. "Emperor protect us. The wards were there for a reason." He collapses into a chair and rests his head in his hands, breathing hard. After a moment, he looks back up to the rest of you. "One of us has to pick it back up, if only to return it to the box."
As you see Uriah moving toward the thing, fallen on the floor, an urgency grips you.