Unduz II, Oremor 7th Legion Penal Claustrum, Designate Ylesium, Husbandry Barn 177-B
Vincent shoves against the plas-tube door, and expecting more resistance, nearly stumbles in a slick of blood and grime covering the smooth ferrocrete flooring of the barn. Fortunately, he rights himself by hanging on tightly with one hand to a gap between two of the tubes, raising his las-pistol and firing upon the staggering corpse-guardsman. The shot rips through the side of the plague zombie's right leg, burning away a wide chunk of rotting flesh, but failing to otherwise impair the creature's lurching movements.
As Ryuk continues to ascend the wall, he turns back long enough to release a crackling surge of emerald warpfire into the face of the nearest plague zombie as it reaches up to grab for his leg. The energy crackles over the hideous thing, burning it and scouring away greyish flesh. Even still, it remains standing, scrabbling at the wall with blackened nails in an attempt to reach the psyker.
Following Vincent's lead, Launce sidesteps to the left several paces before unleashing another torrent of promethium from the flamer at the undead.
The white-hot flames eagerly engulf three of the undead, fully consuming their forms and liquefying their rancid flesh, which sloughs off the bones from the intensity of the fire, causing them stumble and then fall, writhing and screeching to the barn floor. The zombie on the left-most edge emerges from the promethium cloud, and charges for the tech-priest as he swivels his flamer, while the stall door behind he and Vincent slams open, and another abomination lurking within staggers out from behind the both of them.
Vincent feels the iron-grip of the plague zombie close around the hem of his flak greatcloak as he rushes by, the unholy strength of the dead thing arresting his progress immediately.
Unduz II, Oremor 7th Legion Penal Claustrum, Designate Ylesium, Husbandry Barn 177-B
The creature tries to wrench Vincent to the floor but only manages to have one half-gnawed leg slip out from under it, causing it to lose its grip and topple over backwards. Sickening cracking sounds coming from its over-stretched legs suggest that they have broken beneath it from the fall.
The Gran Pallazzar Casino, The Pinnacle of Pearl
"Well played. I see you can only copy another's good fortune though. Again my congratulations..."
The daemon continues to hold Savalos' gaze, the cold laughter gone from its lips as if it was never there, the gloating expression so unnaturally writ across Juan Rico's face fading with the acolyte's biting remark.
It steeples its hands over the mound of chips, and it smiles balefully.
"You should still your tongue, 'Dawnstar'. Our mutual friend struggles yet, and were it not for his vexing distraction, things would be much different, here and now."
The daemon slyly meets Trizo's smoldering gaze, winking impishly at the gang boss.
"You would do well to learn that copies, patterns, repetition; they are all threads in the great Tapestry. Everything is intertwined in the great skein of Fate."
It glances around the table, almost companionably.
"Tell me then, did your master, your Old Man, tell you why you and all the rest of us are really here?"
Only Lady Cinzia overhears this last, and her eyebrows arch thoughtfully at this veiled remark so out of context.
The dealer begins to shuffle, splitting the deck, and then passes out the cards for the third round. He begins with Trizo, who now refuses to look at the Changeling, using the distraction of the fluttering placards to assuage his growing fury, focusing instead upon the game at hand rather than the greater one yet to be played.
Keep on fighting Rico. Maybe if I can distract it some more I can bring you back to the table.
A spark ignites in me. A flash of inspiration as I had on the staircase. I may be dead, but I know I can get under its skin to distract it so another can win.
Low enough so only the Changeling can hear. Possibly Lady Cinzia and Wardja because of proximity.
"Funny. Even now he has the better of you. Must be frustrating eh? All that power, and he limits you to veiled threats and card tricks. Kinda like a circus primate. Told you he had the better of you."
"A copy is just that a copy, a forgery. No matter how hard you try to pass it off its still just a fake. Imperfect, and incomplete compared to the original. Best that you learn that."
"As for the Old Man. Your sitting exactly where he wants you. Why else would I be here?"
Thul continues to tease out info from the Daemon. I half-expect the thing to be at the Duct Wolf's throat for his impudence. But Thul seems to have gotten the dagger in and is now twisting it.
More worthless cards. Might stick around for a re-draw if it's not too expensive but will see how things play out.
Unduz II, Oremor 7th Legion Penal Claustrum, Designate Ylesium, Husbandry Barn 177-B
The Gran Pallazzar Casino, The Pinnacle of Pearl
"Funny. Even now he has the better of you. Must be frustrating eh? All that power, and he limits you to veiled threats and card tricks. Kinda like a circus primate. Told you he had the better of you."
"A copy is just that a copy, a forgery. No matter how hard you try to pass it off its still just a fake. Imperfect, and incomplete compared to the original. Best that you learn that."
"As for the Old Man. Your sitting exactly where he wants you. Why else would I be here?"
The Changeling smiles a wistful smile, the patronizing grin of an elder hearing the boastful declamations of a precocious child, not yet versed in the ways of the world.
Speaking softly, but with unmistakable conviction, the daemon of Tzeentch speaks.
"You natter about copies, but we are all but paltry threads in the pattern woven by the Great Conspirator, even I, all with our parts to play. The only difference between us is that I observe this great game from every possible vantage, while you still play at it from within the bounds of an ever-changing board. Yet, you too have glimpsed this maze of possibilities. Why do you deny what you see? The loyalties that you persist in clinging to, they blind you. The only question that remains to be answered is if you will remain a pawn, or embrace the destiny that could await you, embrace one of the many paths that Fate has foretold for you. The first step on this journey is understanding, reveling in the revelation of the countless truths."
His cold blues eyes seem to dissect you.
"You are correct though, your 'Old Man' has placed us all exactly where he wishes us to be in his little pantomime of my Master's Great Game. Little does he know he cannot escape the loom of destiny, all of our choices and actions, great and small, all of them are naught but the twitching of a puppet's strings in the great scheme of things."
As I hear the words of the Changeling I am filled with dread. Dread for this system. Emperor help us! Feel like a fly caught in a web--Or standing on the edge of a knife. Which way will matters fall?
Unduz II, Oremor 7th Legion Penal Claustrum, Designate Ylesium, Husbandry Barn 177-B
Looking down at the crippled zombie, Vincent takes aim and puts a las-round through its skull. Calling out to Launce he motions he towards the hole they have opened in the horde.
'Get moving, this way.'
Ryuk again hurls another bolt at the same Z.
Something wicked this way comes....
The Gran Pallazzar Casino, The Pinnacle of Pearl
The Changeling smiles a wistful smile, the patronizing grin of an elder hearing the boastful declamations of a precocious child, not yet versed in the ways of the world.
"The only question that remains to be answered is if you will remain a pawn, or embrace the destiny that could await you, embrace one of the many paths that Fate has foretold for you. The first step on this journey is understanding, reveling in the revelation of the countless truths."
His cold blues eyes seem to dissect you.
I think about the Changelings words, and an old street saying comes to mind. If you can't beat them; Buy them. And that's exactly what its trying to do. Its afraid. Of what yet I don't know. Who I will become? An action I will do in the future? Maybe I will influence someone else who will be its final bane? Doesn't matter at this point for its all subjective. What matters now is that I know. It fears me. I may die a horrible death by its warp spawned hands. But now I possess something it can't take away within me. A fire that ignites burning away the fear I felt on the stairwell, and even that of mere few moments ago.
I look the Nightmare straight in the eyes unwavering. Peering into its empty soul, and into the heart of my once best friend. No matter its words, and manipulations. No matter the sacrifices and the tears shed. Humanity will win this day and the next. Otherwise this beast of realities with all its power and foresight would have won ages ago.
"In the end speeches matter not. All that matters in the end is how the deck is cut and how the cards are played."
I wait for the fresh hand to hit the table.
Unduz II, Oremor 7th Legion Penal Claustrum, Designate Ylesium, Husbandry Barn 177-B
Vincent's las reports with a loud hiss, and blasts a clean hole through the writhing zombie's skull, immediately causing it go limp. Seeing the tenuous gap created by his and Launce's efforts, he yells for the tech-priest to follow.
At the same time, Ryuk emits another crackling burst of bright green lightning at the plague zombie vainly reaching for him while continuing his ascent up the outer stall wall. This bolt crackles over the corpse, searing the dead flesh, but it continues its impotent efforts to reach him just the same.
The lightning continues to coalesce until it creates a glimmering corona of lambent, emerald-hued light around the head of the walking corpse that briefly superimposes itself into a gaunt, curious visage that Vincent, should he have been able to see it, would recognize as Adjutant Triggs. The eyes of the witchfire face stare about for an instant, and then the globe of energy disperses. A sudden blast of cold air then surges through the barn, exiting out the doors and carrying the worst of the pent up stench to the companion's nostrils.
Launce continues sidestepping as he pumps the flamer, rushing to the space that he and Vincent have created in the undead ranks.
The flamer belches again, and the last of the plague zombies before Launce staggers and falls, legs liquefying out from under it from the intense heat.
As he tries to stow the flamer, racing toward where Vincent stands, the walking corpse of a rotting penitent laborer reaches out to grasp him from behind with its scabrous hands.
The tech-priest is nearly grabbed, but one of his flailing mechadendrites dislodges the creature's grip before it can fully find purchase, and he moves to join Vincent, laboring under the weight of the flamer.
The Gran Pallazzar Casino, The Pinnacle of Pearl
"In the end speeches matter not. All that matters in the end is how the deck is cut and how the cards are played."
I wait for the fresh hand to hit the table.
The Changeling's smile returns, like a black sunrise, perfect, but filled with a palpable menace.
"No more words then, let us play the Game."
It is difficult to say just how much of the exchange is heard or understood by Lady Cinzia, but it is clear she now senses that there is some terrible subtext to your conversation with Juan Rico, and she casts her wizened eyes in the Changeling's direction with growing apprehension as the cards begin to fall from the dealer's hand.
Collecting their hands, the players begin to size one another up while Trizo dol Soulard draws deeply through the golden stem of his thick, foul-smelling lho, blowing the billowing smoke from his nostrils like a fuming dragon. His golden fingers beat a rumbling tattoo upon the table, and then he tosses five more chips into the pot, casually, like an afterthought.
"Five."
Leprade glances once to his left, as if to gauge his erstwhile ally's mood, and then pushes across five chips of his own.
"Call."
Tor says nothing, but pushes five more chips forward as well, his utter silence as unnerving as the daemon's laughter was in the prior round.
Jeremiah Blitz looks gamely at the other players, sighing again while he peruses his cards, and then pushes five of his own markers forward, the hesitation on his face either genuine, or an excellent bluff.
His voice is low and measured when he speaks, but has a hint of edgy reluctance---or is it eagerness?
"As they say, nothing ventured, nothing gained, eh?"
Jashar dol Geim grunts, his mood obviously dampened by his recent spate of bad luck. Still, he stays in the game, adding his chips to the growing pile.
The dealer turns to Wardja, nodding for his decision before moving on to Savalos.
With the gauzy, opaque veil drawn across her features, Trizo's witch is nearly impossible to assess.
She stands about a meter behind her master, her tall, gaunt, robed form perfectly still, head inclined ever so slightly toward the Changeling.
I wink at the Rogue Trader and toss five chips towards the dealer.
Trizo is to confident. Time to mix it up a little. I throw in ten, raising everyone five before the draw.
Unduz II, Oremor 7th Legion Penal Claustrum, Designate Ylesium, Husbandry Barn 177-B
"Keep moving Launce!"
Unduz II, Oremor 7th Legion Penal Claustrum, Designate Ylesium, Husbandry Barn 177-B
Launce turns as Vincent exhorts him on, jabbing at the foul abomination that nearly wrenched him off his feet with the whipping tip of one of his utility mechadendrites. The tech-priest backpedals slowly, so as not to slip on the slick flooring, and outpaces the thing, which slides and nearly falls as it tries to step over the zombie Vincent just killed. Reaching the clerk, the pair turn around and see that they are within sprinting distance of the vast, open barn doors, the inviting white light of the midday Unduz sun blindingly bright in the gap, beckoning them.
The Gran Pallazzar Casino, The Pinnacle of Pearl
Wardja and Savalos both call, as does Lady Cinzia. When the dealer turns to the daemon, however, it is clear something has changed. It takes Savalos only an instant to recognize what it is---Juan Rico's eyes are no longer the soul-scathing blue of the Changeling, but the rich brown hue they should be.
Confused, Johnnie scans the table as if seeing everything clearly for the first time, but he manages somehow to maintain his equanimity, and glances down at his cards. Savalos wonders if he even sees them. He pushes forward five chips as well, eyes locking on Thul after doing so.
Fearful that the others, all canny card-sharps, will notice the abrupt change in his eye color, not to mention his demeanor, Savalos looks up and down the table. Surprisingly, he finds the others have not so much as glanced in Rico's direction.
How this is possible, he cannot say.
Rook
Sensing that Johnnie is back. I know this will be the only time to push the Daemon out of the game. Have to run its chips out and anything else Johnnie wants to trade off while he is still in control. Like the fate of Sunshine. Just pray Johnnie can make it through the entire hand.
The Gran Pallazzar Casino, The Pinnacle of Pearl
While rearranging his cards, Trizo dol Soulard's eyes search from Savalos to the daemonhost, the serpentine eye tattoos on his eyelids flickering, making it seem as if he is always watching, even when he blinks. It is obvious he detected something in the wordless exchange between the two, and when he looks over at the Changeling it is clear that he now notices the bizarre change in eye color of the man to his left. His simmering anger with the daemon seems to dissipate slightly, replaced with a look; not of concern or worry, but trepidation, as if this eventuality was possible, but not expected. He then casts his eyes over his shoulder to where the witch sits, perfectly still, before returning to his cards.
Watching, the two well-trained acolytes know another unspoken signal was just passed, but they still cannot help but feel they missed something just the same.
Drumming his golden fingers again, Trizo smiles a serpent's smile when directed to the Draw.
He shakes his head slightly in negation.
Leprade looks around the table, somewhat nonplussed by what he sees among his competitors, and elects to Draw, pushing forward a single card for exchange. Taking the card returned to him, he examines it closely betraying no obvious reaction.
Tor, still impassive as a statue, passes forward his entire hand and collects a new one. Eyes concealed beneath the cowl of his robes, the most reaction he shows is to purse his thin lips slightly.
Jeremiah Blitz rearranges his hand several times, and seems conflicted whether to draw or not---or, at least he seems to appear that way. In the end, he elects to hold on to his current hand.
Jashar dol Geim, impatient with the rogue trader's delay, tosses his whole hand as well, his eyes somewhat hard to read as he looks upon the replacements.
The dealer then turns to Wardja, awaiting his choice.
Throwing in my whole hand for a re-draw. The Emperor has not smiled on me much this game.
Just hope my luck is a little better when the shooting starts.
1 card
Rook
The Gran Pallazzar Casino, The Pinnacle of Pearl
Wardja collects the placards, his face an impassive mask once he realizes the cards that replaced his former hand are only marginally better.
Meanwhile, Savalos' uncanny luck continues, the addition of The Cherubim again giving him a nearly perfect Lesser Array. Keeping his cards close, he watches as the dealer looks to Lady Cinzia.
Taking a conservative Draw, she returns two of her cards and takes two more.
When the dealer turns to Johnnie, it is clear that he is still trying to regain some measure of composure and retain control in the face of the daemon. Sweat stands on his brow, but the hard-nosed arbitrator masters himself, and makes a conservative Draw of his own, swapping out one card from his hand.
With everyone still in the game, the bidding goes to Trizo. He inhales deeply from his lho, closing his eyes as he exhales, belching white smoke from his nostrils like some mythical beast, the illusion is all the more real for the tattooed serpentine eyes staring back at you from his closed eyelids. He mutters, nonchalantly, "Raise of ten."
Leprade glances once at his steadily dwindling pile of chips, and gracefully bows out, obviously not liking the results of his gamble on the Draw. Trizo snorts to himself derisively over his erstwhile ally's caution, but Leprade doesn't rise to the bait, merely steepling his hands before him and looking more closely at Rico for the first time since the arbitrator regained control from the Changeling.
Keramiah Tor, as blank a slate as ever, save for the focused intensity of his gaze, which, like Leprade, now falls on Rico as well, pushes his ten chips forward with barely a thought to the ramifications, almost as if the game being played means nothing to him. Something about his manner is beginning to convince Wardja that this may in fact be true.
The rogue trader takes all this in, and, with no sign of indecision now, commits to the hand. Looking at Trizo dol Soulard as he pushes forward first the call of ten, and then ten more of his own markers.
"Call of ten, and a raise of ten more." His insouciant smirk to the gang-lord is not well received, and Trizo glowers back at him, unused to such blatant displays of disrespect.
Jashar dol Geim, titters to himself, wiping amasec from his lips as he rearranges his cards. He must be confident in his hand, as despite his waning chip total, he pushes forward twenty to call as well, leaving him with a paltry pile remaining that perhaps discourages him from raising still further.
The dealer turns to Wardja, and then Savalos.
Unduz II, Oremor 7th Legion Penal Claustrum, Designate Ylesium, Husbandry Barn 177-B
Vincent, unaccustomed to the added weight of the armor, weaponry, and survival equipment, not to mention the taxing exertions that have led him to this point during their escape from the claustrum, feels a painful stitch begin to form in his side as he runs. Bounding over the gore slicked rockcrete floor of the barn, leaping maulchups carcasses, and sidestepping the human corpses that have not yet risen, he risks a glance behind him to see Launce keeping pace despite the burden of the flamer that might have just saved their lives. The stench of putrid, cooking flesh is omnipresent, and the thick, black smoke congealing in the structure behind them momentarily masks Ryuk, until the psyker suddenly emerges near the top of the easternmost wall, running perpendicular to its surface, almost ten meters above the floor below. As the senior clerk watches, the two zombies that had congregated beneath his position earlier step through the choking wall of smoke, still impotently pursuing the clone. Only five meters away, they spy Vincent and Launce, and change the angle of their advance to chase these more attainable prey.
Vincent, grateful that these shambling undead do not move quickly, finally exits through the vast opening at the front of the barn, carefully clambering over the strewn debris tangled with razorwire, improvised feed-container barricades, and dozens of bodies that once blocked the main entry, apparently the futile last stand of some desperate guardsmen to keep these walking dead outside during the calamity that befell the claustrum.
Vincent, plastered in perspiration, notices the subtle shift in heat; free from the suffocatingly hot interior of the barn, he emerges into the damp, humid, and altogether oppressive heat of the Unduz tropics. Even so, there is a slight breeze, albeit one carrying the rank stench of death, coupled with the malodorous, mingled smells of burning crops, fuel, and various outbuildings. Even so, after his last several days trapped in the claustrum, he feels like a man liberated from prison, both literally and figuratively.
Ryuk jumps from the building to float down to the ground.
The Gran Pallazzar Casino, The Pinnacle of Pearl
Tempted to dump more chips on the table in case Thul takes another hand. But I'll stay the conservative route.
Grimacing, I look at the Rogue Trader, roll my eyes, and say, "Fold."
I will call.
The Gran Pallazzar Casino, The Pinnacle of Pearl
The dealer nods in understanding and collects Wardja's cards, while dol Geim lets out a contemptuous snort that conveys his impression of Odo Wimarc's conservative play style quite clearly.
As the solemn dealer turns next to Savalos, the acolyte can see that both Trizo and Jeremiah Blitz are watching him intently.
The Gran Pallazzar Casino, The Pinnacle of Pearl
Savalos doesn't hesitate and adds twenty more chips to the pot, causing the rogue trader's eyebrows to arch, and half of his face to turn up in a half-smile.
Trizo dol Soulard isn't as amused, however, and he laughs a little to himself, a feigned display of amusement that is as much intimidation as his piercing stare. He is sending a clear message that he is beginning to suspect that this Spire-dandy before him is perhaps a little too canny for his own good. He begins to focus his unwavering gaze on Savalos' every move and gesture, the suspicion clear on his haggard, tattooed face.
Lady Cinzia seems determined to make a go of this hand, and after muttering something to herself, either a prayer or a salty oath, Savalos cannot be sure of which, she pushes forward twenty more of her own markers, calling.
Taking their gaze away from the Dowager-Countess, Wardja and Savalos watch as Rico cups his cards closer to his eyes, concealing his face as his breathing finally begins to normalize, the thin trickle of sweat running down his left temple, pearlescent in the weird light of the room. He looks Savalos directly in the eye, his voice grave.
"Hell, what do I have to lose?"
He lifts and tosses two stacks of ten chips into the growing ante, calling.
Trizo looks over at the daemonhost with disdain, and it seems clear he knows Johnnie is ascendant again, as well.
Looking over at Blitz, and then the others, he decides to bully the round still further.
"Call of ten, and a raise of fifteen more, provided that is, you all have the stones."
He looks dismissively at Cinzia dol Vingere, adding an insincere caveat, "Of course, with the exception of you, my dear Marcheza."
Lady Cinzia scowls at the gang-boss, clearly unintimidated.
"Mine were brass before yours dropped, Underhiver, so no, I'm not offended in the least."
Trizo dol Soulard gives her a withering glare before chuckling his humorless laugh again, the menace beneath plainly evident, and looks past Leprade to the enigma that is Keramiah Tor.
"How about you, preacher?"
Tor, still focused on Rico, seems to adjust the set of his jaw, and adds ten, and then fifteen more chips to the pile, calling both Blitz and Trizo's raises. He still says nothing.
Jeremiah Blitz nods in time to the thoughts going through his own head, and then pushes forward fifteen more, appearing quite confident as he does so, deciding not raise further.
The dealer looks to Jashar dol Geim, who for all intents and purposes now is a shuddering wreck, his jowls glistening with acrid sweat, and his ruddy forehead wrinkled in consternation. He has been backed into a corner, having committed most of his remaining chips already, he will be putting forward what remains if he calls---but stands to lose a great deal of face and wealth if he backs out now. Wardja can't help but smile at the fat agri-baron's predicament.
The noble's stomach gurgles audibly in sympathy to his plight.
He barks out the word like a bad morsel of estuary shrimp, "Call!", while pushing his last twelve chips into the center of the table.
Looking past Wardja, the dealer gestures to Savalos again.
"Raise of fifteen to you, Lord Dawnstar."
The crowd murmurs audibly in anticipation, knowing that this round will be the ruin of several of the competitors depending on who comes out ahead.
Somewhere Dark
Kaltos laboriously lowers the improvised boom transmitter to the filthy floor of the holding cell for the third time. No further signal has come across the jury-rigged system for nearly half an hour now.
Unable to converse after disassembling his own vox-components for the requisite parts of the makeshift transmitter, Ivaanov remains silent. Kaltos is about to raise the heavy staff again for another attempt, when the room suddenly judders violently, nearly throwing the three companions to their knees. With a grinding lurch, the sizable cage begins to ascend.
Private Kotts, trying to remain upright, curses loudly.
"Feck, here we go again!"
Its hard to tell if Trizo is bluffing. Feels like he is either goading us to drop more chips into the pot. Or bully people out. Regardless people are dropping out of the game this hand. Best I not be the arse to push them over the edge. Its clear sitting around the table I have enough enemies looking across to Trizo, and the slumbering Daemon. Not sure what the witch is doing. But certain after the brief exchange at the beginning of the hand. She is doing something.
"I call"
I am confident with my hand, but not going to push it. If Johnnie feels the time is right. Then he will raise and push the chips, and take the lead this round.
Somewhere Dark
I quickly bring down the wildly swinging "antenna" and start disassembling it the best I can. I also take the components salvaged to try to reassemble the vox they came from.
"It looks like our time is upon us. Its best be prepared for what ever they through at us."
I turn toward the Private, "Any advice as to what we might be looking at as 'sport' fighting here."
The Gran Pallazzar Casino, The Pinnacle of Pearl
The dealer nods at Savalos and turns his attentions to Dowager-Marcheza Cinzia dol Vingere. She seems to consider raising for a moment, but it is clear she has some reservations, particular since she still has a significant number of chips in reserve compared to many of the other participants. She elects in the end to play it safe, calling the raise of twenty.
Rico lowers his head slightly, sweat dimpling his brow from the exertion of maintaining control, and it is clear he is trying desperately to remain himself. He pushes forward twenty more chips to call as well, but does not raise. His body then goes eerily still, and when he looks up again, cobalt blue eyes lock on first to Savalos, and then Keramiah Tor, the latter muttering a low, pained grunt in response that sounds remarkably like a display of genuine human emotion---surprise.
With the betting again coming to Trizo, the gang-lord of the Yellobouros chuckles to himself, pawing at his scant remaining chips. He shrugs a bully's shrug and looks over his cards once again seemingly very satisfied with what he sees there.
"Now things get interesting."
[occ]Psyniscience(40) =
Fate Point to reroll =
Failed the roll.[/occ]
Somewhere Dark
As the dome-shaped cage continues its rumbling ascent and gradual rotation, Private Kotts looks apprehensively around at the tarnished metal of their prison.
Checking the straps on his mildew-smelling and blood-stained armor, he shakes his head from side to side, doubt clearly beginning to fill him, and drain his resolve.
"I don't think there is such a thing as getting ready for what's coming. For all we know we're going to be up against some kind of xenos monster, like an Ambull or Cruorian War Beast. Worse, they might just throw us in a pit with the first-line of the Orcut Heartvesters..."
Seeing your lack of comprehension, he grows rather exasperated, and counts off on four fingers, as if to further illustrate a point.
"Heartvesters? As in four-time world champion pit-fighter stable Heartvesters?"
He begins to mutter nervously to himself as the cage begins to slow, the enormity of his predicament settling on him like a suffocating weight.
"Feck, feck, feck!."
The Gran Pallazzar Casino, The Pinnacle of Pearl
While Tikeen watches him with the same look of lingering concern, Uriah feels another violent shudder in the Immaterium as Trizo's witch reaches out with the polluted and labyrinthine tendrils of her mind. He tries to garner a sense of what it is she is doing, but finds his own psyche repulsed and diverted by both the mental cul-de-sacs she arrays to occlude her power and the powerful psychic miasma of the Changeling's very presence.
Shaking his head to clear his thoughts he notices Tikeen putting her fingers to her lips thoughtfully, perhaps sensing some of what is occurring. She glances toward her patron, the rogue trader, Blitz, and the ghost of an indulgent smile passes across her pale features.
"It seems my captain has baited the hook, I can't help but feel pity for the rest of them."
"If I were your captain I would be careful. The important game is not necessarily the card game. Keep watching."
Unduz II, Oremor 7th Legion Penal Claustrum, Designate Ylesium, Plantation 7, Husbandry Barn Cluster 177
Ryuk runs upside down beneath the broad lip of the barn door, and deftly leaps into the oppressively hot air, somersaulting once, his fall eerily arrested as he descends, until he lands beside Vincent and Launce just beyond the teetering barricade.
The weary trio stand atop a slight rise in the predominantly flat landscape of smoldering plantation fields, the crops scorched and blackened, pockmarked here and there with wide, smoking craters, and overturned or abandoned vehicles, both military and agricultural. Seeded amidst the utter ruin are corpses, hundreds upon hundreds of corpses, some of them the expected variety, immobile on the ground; while far more shamble about, dead guardsmen and prisoners both, possessed by some malign animating force, driven on by their insatiable hunger.
Twenty or more barns, identical in pre-fabricated dimensions to the one the companions have just emerged from, dot the near horizon, one as close as a kilometer away, all arranged in a ring about the wide expanse of now desolate grazing land for the maulchups they once contained. One still burns, black smoke leaving a sooty smear over the near horizon, while two others have been leveled to the very ground by some powerful force or ordinance, little more than leaning walls of blackened plascrete.
The claustrum itself frowns over everything, a monolithic, shining pillar of steel and rockcrete at the center of the radially oriented plantations, its long shadow cast over the husbandry barn the trio just emerged from like the titanic outstretched finger of a baleful god. Looking back over his shoulder, Vincent is taken aback by the staggering scale of the prison he has just escaped from. It seems like a miniature hive, paradoxically transplanted into the environs of an enormous jungle-verged stretch of methodically partitioned farmland.
Even now, it burns.
Guttering fires that seem small at this distance, but are likely raging infernos in actuality, lick the side of the claustrum at various points, while the rectangular openings near the top of the structure marking the hangars of the Aerie fume with great clouds of ebon-hued smoke. It mingles with the black clouds above in the still, oppressively humid tropical air that promises thunderstorms, roiling like a tempest.
For Vincent and Ryuk, never would be too soon to return to that accursed place.
Hearing strangled groans coming from the undead vainly trying to clamber over the barricade blocking the barn's entrance, the three are abruptly reminded that they must soon take action, lest they are surrounded again. For some inexplicable reason they all had momentarily forgotten their pursuers.
The clone-psyker stands in abject awe of the vast, open space that now surrounds him, unaccustomed to such an expanse from his years locked away in the claustrophobic confines of the Oubliette, a reaction that is further compounded by the fact that Ylesium claustrum looks like a snapshot of hell.
Vincent and Launce search frantically for a viable path that will take them away from the swarming undead in the barn without encountering or drawing the unwanted attention of more of the plague zombies.
Unduz II, Oremor 7th Legion Penal Claustrum, Designate Ylesium, Plantation 7, Husbandry Barn Cluster 177
Unduz II, Oremor 7th Legion Penal Claustrum, Designate Ylesium, Plantation 7, Husbandry Barn Cluster 177
Moving away from the barn entrance with the others toward a more secure position near a teetering sheet-metal outbuilding once used to wash the animals, Vincent looks out across the carnage, eyes watering from the overpowering stench of death, smoke, and burning fuel. Surveying the immediate environs, it is not immediately clear which path it would be best to take in order to avoid the roving bands of undying guardsmen and prisoners.
The gentle, grassy slope descending from the barn is littered with corpses of both animals and men, while plague zombies alone and in small packs stagger throughout the putrefying remains, gnawing on the flesh of the dead. Vincent and Ryuk can see two possible paths that might allow them to circumvent the threat they pose. One is by following the twisting access road leading from Husbandry Barn 177-B to the base of hillside, pocked and pitted with blast craters and disabled vehicles, while the other is to follow a recessed but open drainage culvert extending from the barn via a more linear path to the expanse of the fields below. The former has the advantage of having significant cover and hiding places with the presence of the abandoned vehicles and farm equipment, but the threat of going this way would bring them into closer proximity to the ravenous walking corpses. The culvert is a straight path further from the largest concentration of the zombies, but the ten-foot deep, slope-walled drainage conduit is open to the fields, and discovery while inside could prove dangerous with few avenues of escape.
The Gran Pallazzar Casino, The Pinnacle of Pearl
The dealer returns his attention to Trizo dol'Soulard and the gang-boss of the Yellobouros slowly unfurls his cards before him, revealing yet another Greater Array, this one dominated by The Conspirator, to the collective gasp of the crowd. His smug, self-satisfied expression shows he is immensely confident that no one will prevail over this nearly perfect hand, and regrettably for the others, this proves correct.
Keramiah Tor's hand is good, but not good enough. The normally affable Blitz curses loudly, an uncharacteristic display of emotion from the rogue trader who seems the consummate professional gambler. His own Greater Array is beaten by the high card in Trizo's hand, a crushing loss considering what he has wagered on this round. Before the dealer can even turn to Jashar dol'Geim, the agri-magnate has his bulbous head clutched in both hands, hissing in anger as the last of his chips are taken away. He lifts his head, rolls of fat along his chin cascading down, his expression desolate, almost ill, his appetite for indulgences and the game abruptly gone. Savalos grins and bears it, his own hand just slightly worse than both Trizo and Blitz. Glancing at the Dowager-Marcheza, it is clear her hand is not strong enough either, and when she reveals it, Savalos can see that it galls her to lose to the ganger, and she looks sharply in his direction, his last verbal barb still fresh in her mind. In control again, the daemon flips his cards insolently upon the table, revealing a fair hand, nothing more. The thing inhabiting Juan Rico turns his head around to look pointedly at Trizo's witch, and then at the ganger. The daemonhost then looks meaningfully toward Savalos, who feels his scar tingle coldly in response to the gaze.
As the dealer's rake pushes the markers toward Trizo dol'Soulard, the game changes. Jashar dol'Geim eliminated, Blitz and Tor barely hanging on, and Lady Cinzia and Wardja well behind the Trizo, Savalos, and the Changeling.
Jeremiah out played me. Props to a good hand. The coin should have gone to him. Glancing over toward Trizo's psyker. I am sure we were all just played. I have seen card swaps and minor illusons played by back ally witchs before. The Changeling confirming my suspicions with an uneasy glance as the scar on my face itches.
Time to use kindness and compliments to bring her to the fore, and a heads up for my allies. At least those looking to play a square game.
"Congratulations. Its always fortunate to have Lady Luck at ones side. Does your's have a name"?
I gesture to the Lady behind Trizo.
I give a very warm smile. Like one who is a player or playboy. Lets see how she likes the spotlight. Throwing her or Trizo off there game could be the difference maker tonight. Its clear that whatever conversation Leprade and Trizo were going to have isn't going to happen here tonight.
Ryuk looks at his companions, "What are your names again?"
The Gran Pallazzar Casino, The Pinnacle of Pearl
Seeing the Rogue Trader's disappointment, I make eye contact, purse my lips, and tilt my head as if to say, "Too bad. Nice try."
"Congratulations. Its always fortunate to have Lady Luck at ones side. Does your's have a name"?
I gesture to the Lady behind Trizo.
I give a very warm smile. Like one who is a player or playboy.
Picking up on Thul's gambit, I try to distance myself from Thul to play up our separate roles.
Looking across the table at Leprade, when he looks my way I gesture towards 'Lord Dawnstar' and roll my eyes.
Hoping to discern what the Intelligencer knows or thinks about us.
Unduz II, Oremor 7th Legion Penal Claustrum, Designate Ylesium, Plantation 7, Husbandry Barn Cluster 177
Ignoring Ryuk's seeming bewilderment, Vincent points to the culvert and unslings the hunting rifle.
"That is the most direct way out of here."