Cell 23-Dark Heresy

Game Master Kevin O'Rourke 440

Mordecai is about to reply directly but then, a thought strikes him.

If he hasn't noticed how the skin feels by now...is there really any point in telling him? A literal answer then, and let him find out in his own time.

"My high gothic clearly needs work. I know only the odd phrase and clearly not accurately. Something to improve in the future."

All technically true! But also technically dodging the point.

Fr. Tunt wakes up, his mouth dry and his head wet. 'Why is my head so wet again?', he thinks. 'Also how do I manage to find clean towels to wrap it up every time?' Sitting up the pain starts from his toes and works it way to his head with the regular pacing of a Mordian regiment straight from training. Head now properly throbbing in rhythm to the supposed foot stomping marching he can feel he stands up looking at his arm in surprise. Mouthing the words he sees there to himself he puts one hands over his face and rubs some semblance of life into it.

"It's missing the U, why is it missing the U?"

Scrutiny under 34: 1d100 ⇒ 57

"Ok whatever Mordecai"

"Have you seen the good father?"

Mordecai is still standing and tries to hide his relief.

"I have not, although I calculate that is him using the shower. Unless we brought guests back. Or intruders. Now, for some badly required rations."

Mordecai grabs a packet of "Eazee-Eat" brand rations, tears open the foil, and sits at the table having already started to eat.

Mid-chew, he tries to stifle a sudden sharp feeling across his buttocks...

>Cell Designation: 23
>Date: 5151147.M42

As you file in for your arranged briefing Interrogator Wilson slides over some dossiers. "Your next mission will be quite different, I had something else in mind but I was contacted late last night. In the nearby system of Visvorus a ship has exited the warp."

"The 'Harbinger of Hope' is a Vagabond class transport, last seen fifty years ago. That wouldn't be enough to attract our attention, we'd normally leave this to the local PDF or Imperial Navy to deal with it. However various prognostications have been flagged in relation to it describing it having a great doom having befallen it. No hails have been answered and the vessel has been put under quarantine."

"An Imperial Navy Cobra Class Destroyer the 'Mailed Fist' has been reassigned from it's squadron to carry you there. It was due to go on maneuvers."

"Your mission is to board the vessel and discover what happened and if the vessel can be salvaged. If not the Mailed Fist has enough firepower to destroy it. Depending on the nature of what transpired there bear in mind that if you bring any Imperial Navy staff with you they may need to be terminated. Keep exposure of other Imperial Servants to a minimum would be my advice but Captain Tracker has been advised to extend you every courtesy so the ship's Quartermaster should be receptive to loaning out any gear you deem necessary for the mission."

"Understood. Do you have any recommendations for useful gear in hostile voidship environments? Any standard hazards that we should prepare for? "

"Potentially depressurised areas, flooding, void, malfunctioning gravity plating and radiation but the Harbinger of Hope should have useful materials on it. In many cases if you try to bring equipment to deal with every challenge you will be overburdened and hamper yourselves."

"Your recommendations are appreciated. In the event that the Harbinger of Hope cannot be salvaged in its entirety, are there any known items or records of note that you would wish retrieved?"

"The Captain's log if possible. a manifest is still being searched for, it may contain other items of interest."

"Any advice on how to work around the lack of technical skill in the cell?"

"A vessel adrift and not answering hails, concern of contamination by forces unknown and a small team being sent to investigate. Sounds like the plot of one of the 'Commissar Cain' vid-shows. Just what we need after tramping around in a hive, some serious work."

After Bas inquires about the lack of technically skilled members.

"A voidship has a great many different spirits and my prayers are not the sort to empower them. It requires a different sort of priest than me.

"Hopefully, we can declare the vessel salvageable and not need concern ourselves with such details."

After Bas' enquiry:

"I know some basic technomat prayers. Those might suffice."

Please reduce the groups subtlety by 1 as the armour's parts were scarce.

"Once you have vetted it for threats and have exhausted your expertise in discerning them it would be reasonable to call in a member of the Priesthood of Mars for further assesment."

"A Cell will rarely have every skill in their repertoire but bringing in outside specialists too soon can squander a valueable resource."

"That makes sense. We need not understand every mystery on board."

"Is there a timeline for our departure?"

"I can be a little pedantic about health and safety and that is exactly what this mission needs."

"Be at Spacedock 94 at noon local time tomorrow. Who is acting prime is up to yourselves."

"Understood. I believe Bas' point has merit and have no objection to him as prime for this mission."

"Seconded"

Mordecai has a great deal of trouble finding stun grenades. His persistence is seen by some as irritating. He makes his way back to the apartment empty-handed.

Any other preparations before boarding the Imperial Navy ship?

Good here.

none

The crew of the Mailed Fist are courteous but keep their distance at most times. When they think you aren't observing as you move about the ship they look at you like otherworldly figures. Some of the officers compose themselves better but are still wary about you.

Ye are given officers quarters, they are compact but have more comfort than the general crew quarters.

Fr. Tunt stretches out on his bed, arms folded under his head. looking up at the ceiling of the room he see that it has had little in the way of cleaning in probably half a century or so. Ignoring it he sits up, swinging his legs over the side. Standing he leaves the room and goes to the room where Bas is billeted. Knocking as he enters...."Prime Guardsman Specialist Bas, when you say it out loud like that it sounds like I'm ordering a meal with you as the main course." He smiles at that..."So, any word on when we're arriving? It can take a while to get my gear on and I want to be ready for it. I remember once when a major attack was happening and all my armour was sitting on my cot bed, ready to be cleaned. Caught us right off guard so I grabbed my helmet and run down to the front trench wearing it figuring it was better than nothing. Saw off the attack of course, wouldn't be standing here otherwise but Emperor preserve me it thought me to be prepared in the future. Can't be running around shouting encouragement to people wearing an antique helmet with a brazier and a pair of standard issue boots and underwear. Caught right off guard I was." He chuckles as he finishes.

Mordecai is nonplussed by his quarters.

This is a *lot* of a space.

He stares at the ceiling for a time, mulling over the last mission and the mission to come.

And then he hears a nearby knock and Father Tunt's distinct voice carrying, even through officer quarter walls.

Time to talk.

Mordecai gets up, pulls on a jumpsuit, and steps outside his quarters, heading for Bas' room. It's likely the conversation will continue a bit before he gets there.

Bas waits patiently for Tunt to finish.

"Personally I'd walk around here in a void suit but I don't really want to make the crew jumpy."

Bas says without so much of a smile.

"I'll have to request our ETA."

"They do seem to be giving us funny looks, but voidborn are like that. Fairly insular as people go. Lack of experience of living somewhere with a population bigger than a ships company, they just don't know how to deal with outsiders. Maybe I'll put on my plate anyway, haven't worn it in ages and it'll give them something to remember."

Fr. Tunt heads back to his room where he'll put on his armour minus the helm and start doing some endurance training like jogging while cordially greeting every one he sees because he's that type of fella.

On the way out of Bas' room..

"Mordecai, fancy some PT? I'm just getting my armour on and going for a jog."

Arriving, Mordecai chimes in,.

"From what I understand, those estimates can be quite far off from the reality. But I would also like to know how long we can expect to remain on this vessel. I have felt as something of a spare cog on this journey."

In reply to Tunt.

"Certainly, Father Tunt. I shall change and catch up with you. Do not slow down on my account."

"Somehow I don't think catching up to me, or even finding me will be an issue. Tell me have you ever seen someone run in archaic plate steel armour. You can hear them long before you see them. Also it'll be about ten minutes before I'm ready to go, it's heavy and awkward to get on you see"

"Understood. Deep Guard-pattern carapace is much swifter to don, though unless it is made with exceptional care, the armour is prone to restricting movement. Would you like assistance in donning your armour once I am ready?"

"Tunt, my medical opinion would be that no one should be running in your armour." Bas shouts while making sure he's out of Tunt's line of sight.

Bas will wander off to try and get an ETA on their arrival.

"Ah...no. I haven't needed to be dressed by anyone is some time. Don't worry I'm used to getting it on and I have a method mastered to getting in and out of it in a hurry too, but I'll take my time here and make sure it's ready for running with out getting stuck by one of the corners of the plates. I must get around to getting it tailored to fit me one of these days."

Reply to Bas

"Well, running is a generous opinion I have of what I do I suppose but Emperor bless me I try"

Fr Tunt laughs at his own self depreciating joke

Bas replies from off in the distance.

"If it helps I'll prescribe you my old flak."

Turning to Mordecai

"Humph, no love for the old ways with these youngsters and their 'flak' and 'lasweapon'"

Fr. Tunt makes air quotes with his fingers as he talks.

"Whats wrong with a bit of steel and fire eh? No respect for their eldars I say"

wouldn't be much age difference between tunt and Bas but he's a priest and automatically older by proxy

Mordecai is quietly amused at the exchange between Bas and Tunt, smiling slightly.

To Tunt:

"Well Father Tunt, your armour should make for exceptional endurance training. I am out of practice in my own so this should prove a worthwhile exercise."

When Bas makes an inquiry he is informed that the trip should take approximately two weeks ship board time at least but it is impossible to give a definite time.

Bas will offer his services while he is on board.

"I'm an experienced chirurgeon with a specialization in battlefield trauma. I would be delighted to be of service in anyway I can while I'm on board."

"We wouldn't want to bother you with trivial matters but if anything of substance arises within that skill set we will keep you apprised."

Mordecai has since returned to his room to change into his combat gear.

An onlooker would see a well-built physique. "Optimal", as a tech-priest overseer might say. Precisely 1.80cm tall, 75kg in weight. Efficient musculature kept in excellent condition bar evidence of previous injuries, including the healing bullet wound from the Rathome underhive mission.

His skin is pale from three decades underground, darker in irregular places from burns and scars during the last twelve years spent deeper still.

His hair is tightly-shaven to the point where it's difficult to tell what colour it was. Perhaps a black-grey. His eyes are definitely a pale grey. There is evidence that he somehow manages to sleep well, even with his current career and locale.

His carapace armour is a mixture of brutal practicality, and what might be forge world worship - or superstition. There is a wire-grill over his eye plate, rugged but polished Nightfall iron plates over critical areas, and a strip of conduit material as a necklace, near a hanging respirator and pair of photo visor goggles. An ageing scroll - or poster - can be seen tucked into the combat vest laid over the armour, for some reason not put away in his backpack. His combat gear (armour, shock maul, knife, stub revolver) is mostly the standard-issue patterns of the Nightfall Deep Guard, even if not all of the rest is present.

He heads out of his room to await Tunt in the hall.

After a short while with the sound of unpriestly swearing coming from Fr Tunts quarters he arrives out wearing what looked like the inside of a prayer book scribed onto metal.

On closer inspection the script, litanies of discipline, courage, faith and many others, are of different but improving qualities as the scriber got better.

The metal it is written on was shaped to fit a person slightly smaller than Fr Tunt with small gaps in the armour showing the padding from the inside of a flak armour worn underneath to help with the chafing.

It rattles as he moves as the plates make contact with each other at the joints and some of the script there is worn from this. The worn condition of the script in other places can probably be put down to the lasburns, knife scores and repaired dents.

Obviously used for its purpose the armour looks like it belongs over the tomb of a battle saint, martyred fighting some heresy.

"Well, lets be about our training so", he says with a smile.

"Let's see how a lap of the ship exterior corridors goes."

Mordecai says this with a light smile.

And begins to jog.

"Sounds like a good idea"

Modified stock parts, under 35: 1d100 ⇒ 50
Red-Dot parts, under 35: 1d100 ⇒ 13

Huffing as they finish the lap Fr. Tunt almost reaches out to a bulkhead to steady himself. Smiling at Mordecai he laughs a bit. "Been a while since I've run that far wearing this, running in trenches was generally limited to short sprints. Well except for this commissar that had everyone doing morning PT which included a 5km run in a battalion trench system that did have about 7km of trench works but not in a straight line. If you can imagine it, hundreds of guardsmen at a time tying to run past each other through firing trenches, linking trenches, support trenches and command trenches. Eventually the commissar in question was transferred but not before the enemy had substantially increased their numbers in their own trench system expecting a major attack based off scout reports of massive troop movements each morning for a solid week. Emperor bless and keep us but we were shelled for a month before they realised we weren't worth it. Last I heard off that idiot hangman he was reassigned to a penal battalion sent of to fight some weird, Emperor damned xenos called Nidders or Nids or sosmething like that."

Mordecai looks pretty exhausted himself. His armour noticeably restricted his movements and weighs him down.

Catching his breath, he replies:

"I know little of commissars but drawing that much enemy fire without prior orders would surely be grounds for serious punishment."

He exhales loudly.

"That reminds me. We should speak with the Captain before we leave. We need to make preparations in case we need to store dangerous materials or prisoners. Have a plan from dock to storage."

Jumping forward 2 days after red-dot has been built.

Bas will wander off again to request a meeting with the ships captain.

"It is better we have a contingency discussed encase we find ourselves needing it."

A Lieutenant with grey flecks in his hair will show up after an hour. He snaps off a salute. "Sirs the Captain has assigned me to function as a liason. He means this as no insult towards ye but as a convenience. There are many demands on his time and he would not wish to see himself unable to give you due attention. My duties have been cleared as have those of two ensigns assigned to me. If you wish for any materials from the armoury for the duration of the mission they are available to you. My name is Lieutenant Cadwell. If this is unsatisfactory or insufficient the Captain has appointments he can cancel to facilitate meeting with ye presently."

Mordecai speaks up, saluting in return.

"Lieutenant Cadwell, I will describe what we require. If you believe that requires the captain's direct intervention, we will leave that to your discretion."

"It is possible that we will be bringing prisoners or items from the Harbinger of Hope. For the safety of all involved, we will need a secure and preferably isolated location to contain them, and a route and procedure for conveying same to this location. Corridors cleared of personnel temporarily, that sort of thing. On the return journey, we can personally stand guard directly."

"This is of course contingent on us bringing anything or anyone back. But it is best to be prepared. With talk of radiation, we should also have preparations for radiation decontamination or quarantine should we ourselves fall victim to same."

"On a final note, do you have any recommendations for critical equipment or tactics for voidship boardings? It would be foolish of us to dismiss the advice of an experienced Imperial Navy officer."

"An area and route I can set up easily. The radiation and quarantine we have protocols for that we can employ if needed."

"As for equipment flamers are good for clearing corridors, meltaguns are good for accessing areas swiftly as well as putting down all but the most resilient targets in one hit. We have a small cache of meltabombs that may be of use if you have not undergone melta weapon trainning."

"Any other materials desired I can see if we have."