The Confused and the Dammed

Game Master humanz

"beep beep ... beep beep"

You're awoken by the obnoxious drone of a dying machine.

You find yourself lying in a statis casket.

When you scan the room you see another five marines in similar caskets.

You also note the walls and floor are thick with dust and age.

"beep beep"

The dying machine lets out one last status message before coming to an unspectacular halt.

You note you are currently unarmed and without armour.

The room has one door and there are no guards to be seen.

Please introduce yourselves.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

The steady hammerings of the murder servitors had an almost sedate effect on him. He hadn't seen their like before, not match for a Legionnaire, at least without numbers and they had those. The command crew of his vessel lay sprawled dead around them... they were mortal and this was a precise attack. They were hunting him.

Perhaps he had grown too daring and perhaps the cattle had finally summoned to nerve to face him. The Blood Tithe was swarming with agents of the Corpse Emperor. They were skilled, a would be assassin had gotten onto his bridge and sunk a power blade into his neck. But he had survived the Heresy and the intrigue and carnage that followed.

A lone wolf in his den, cornered. They would pay a heavy price, each life an offering of devotion for the Dark Gods. A final glorious last stand would pay tribute to them all... perhaps if he was fortunate they would reanimate his broken form again or forge a new body for his soul, not too common but the fickle Gods of Chaos were powerful indeed.

With a crackle the murder servitors' shock mauls sprung into life. Blood Tyrant roared out in defiance as he used it to shove a servitor back and sent a bolt shell into it's head, chunks of gore and chewed up implants splattered all nearby.

No this wouldn't do. Not like this. Blood Tyrant deserved better. Like him it had helped forge the Imperium but together they had forged a dark fate together. Killed by another Champion it could continue on but these lap dogs of him on earth, no they'd not treat his friend with such reverence.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Darkness overtook him as he tore his foes asunder with his chainsword and Blood Tyrant.

"Bang! ...beep beep"

Dagon the Unworthy came to in the stasis chamber and began looking to get out of the stasis chamber by technical skill or failing that brute force...

Dagon is has a large pair of dappled white wings upon his back, a gift from the Chaos Gods. On the left side of his torso are the names of campaigns he has participated in, after ten thousand years the list is long and has spread to his back. They begin in recording his first kill on Cthonia, his service during the Great Crusade and then during the rebellion in service to far darker and more worthy masters. His skin was pale but had it's share of scars from bolt and blade.

Dark brown eyes looked about the room from beneath black eyebrows. His hair was short and curly. A dark black neat muttonchops mustache adorned his face.

The Imperial city burned down around Dromichaetes, the refineries and manufactorums still rocked by secondary explosions.

That would have to suffice, since he was to about to fall. Servants of the dead Tyrant had found him. His allies from ten renegade groups were already dead or dying.

Only he still stood, and he would exact the maximum cost from the Imperial ranks before they overwhelmed him. His bolt pistol has already been ripped away in the battle, his grenades and demolition charges expended. He could feel each bolt shell rocket out of the boltgun through a miu wrist tendril. And his servo-arm was covered in the blood of those who had closed the distance.

The servants stopped charging in to die. They had made the rational decision to bring in anti-vehicle weapons. His internal auspex fed data to correlate with his autosenses, showing the missles coming for him. He could avoid at most one at a time.

They launched three. One streaked for his head…

"beep beep ... beep beep"

Dromichaetes staggered out of a stasis casket, a newer pattern. This was an improvement over his estimates. He could resume his goal of destroying the Tyrant’s Imperium.

But his implants were barely responding, his legs barely functioning better than crude bionics, his armour gone. Others are here, legionnaires also. His responses are strangely slowed, pharmaceuticals most likely.

To onlookers, Dromichaetes is covered variously in mechanicus bionics, scars from both surgery and violence, and battered pale skin and bald head cool to the touch. His legs are masterworks of the bionic arts, appearing as iron crafted into sturdy towers. His eyes are ice blue with a calculating gaze.

And his throat, he realises with growing rage, had been blasted apart and crudely rebuilt. A growing howl of static to test lingua technua fails to form coherently.

An intercom speaker. The wretches.

He resorts to low gothic, his voice distorted through the speaker, cold anger audible to those paying attention.

”I am Tech-Marine Dromichaetes, Iron Warrior. The servants of the dead Tyrant did not kill us. I will resume killing them and destroying his Imperium. Who here thinks similarly?"

CRASH!

The door of the drop pod opens, harsh light streams in with the noise of battle.

Korg releases his restraints, stepping into the open firing a bolter at on coming enemies. Each shot fired into the masses shredding bodies before him. His feet taking him closer to his foes. Gunfire pings his shoulders, his chest piece. Each hit resounding louder and louder in his head. A red mist growing in his eyes as his chainaxe swings, spreading gore over him. A shot through the helmet. All vision goes red, a blinding pain.

**** **** ****

Korgs vision clears, a mountain of bodies before him. His skin covered in blood and gore, painted red.

How awkward, all I wanted was directions to the spaceport so I can get off this Forsaken planet

**** **** ****

Another world another mountain of bodies. Korgs skin now permanently red. His gods reward him for another offering.

**** **** ****

"I say, excuse me my good man, could you tell me where I may find the weaponsmith?"

"F$%+ OFF you ponse!" The pirate roars back before hocking spit towards Korgs

How rude...

Fear shows in the pirates eyes as he looks upon the deamonic face of Korg. The chain axe in Korgs hand growls to life as the red mist closes...

**** **** ****

Beep Beep

statis casket? my word that's a lot of dust.. The cruel Gods will demand another sacrifice soon..

Korg steps from the casket to look around.

"I say chaps, anyone know where we might be? or perhaps how long we have been here?"

Climbing out of the casket and flexing his wings Dagon looks deeply annoyed. "For now I'll settle for getting my gun."

Dagon will check the area to see if there are any cogitators that might provide answers or physical clues such as signage or notes.

Boredom. Millennia of boredom pointlessly trying to undo the harm that the Imperial Cult has done had left Od'Onnis with a growing sense of melancholy about the crusade to bring the truth to the people. Sheep who wouldn't see that they worshipped a false god, a creature who was barely clinging to life by the sacrifice of their souls. Sacrifices that had no meaning to him and that he wouldn't and couldn't reward. Chaos offered a real truth, a real path to meaningfulness but they refused to see. Ten thousand years of indoctrination had ruined them so Od'Onnis gave up trying to save them and instead began to show them. Nearly one hundred Ecclisiarchy acolytes, all bound for the service of a corpse instead remoulded into a symbol of the pointlessness of the lip service to the emperor. Set loose on a hive they showed the uphivers how Chaos was the only true force that mattered. Od'Onnis began to laugh, and laugh, and laugh, and........

Beep beep....beep beep

Still laughing Od'Onnis wakes up and looks around.

"Where in Chaos am I?" Seeing other marines around him he prepares to fight until he realises they are fellow marines from those legions that saw the truth of the emperors lies.

"Who might you all be then?"

Once on the plague planet and the eye of terror, begging mortarion for his blessing - Honestly, everything before that is meaningless anyhow.
Enthusiasm for spreading corruption was heard and the currupted gene was gifted to me - but after a while I realised, I wanted more - boredom...

There is a name name floating in my head "Abaddon" but I don't really know what to make of it...

I was on my way to a crusade transport, seeking to spread corruption.
But; Time in the eye of terror is ... well almost undefined I have no clear idea of what happend in the past few days, weeks ... or maybe even month. It's all a great vortex of madness and corruption.

I have no calling on how I got here, what's going on? Who are you?

Once Dromichaetes' declaration and question end and his new "voice box" goes silent, he joins the legionnaire searching for cogitators or records. He wants to know where he is and what the situation is.

And find his armour and weapons.

Dagon is already searching, joining him

@ Jurufar

"I am Od'Onnis, Legionnaire of the Word Bearers and servant of the Gods. I recognise you as Legion Astartes but that is all. I do not know you nor do I know why I am here."

Dagon and Dromichaetes find no cogitators in the room.

There is a single pict-recorder mounted high on a wall.
Touching it causes it to fall and shatter on the floor.
Anyone with Common Lore(Tech) will immediately note this as abnormal.

Dromichaetes is unable to identify the now dead machine the center of the room. Forbidden Lore(Archaeotech): 1d100 ⇒ 88

Peeling some of the dust of the walls reveals a pattern of dull silver and stylized Imperial Eagles resembling some kind of obnoxious wallpaper.

Dromichaetes pauses and initiates a diagnostic check of his cyber systems.

The signs of age in the room are completely outlandish even by Imperial standards.

The last marine is still lying in his stasis crypt and hasn't moved or spoken.

There are only 5 players.

Please describe your characters appearance if you haven't already with your next post.

Dromichaetes feels his true flesh recovering, probes returning confirmation and data from the awakening machine spirits within his implants. Biological support, mechanicus systems, embedded auspex, mind impulse unit connectors, bionic legs, all online.

As he moves, the full extent of his modifications become more clear. Wrist connector probes, mechadendrite connectors, threaded flesh augmentation, palm electoos, tubes and grills replacing the skin of his neck and upper chest, cranial circuitry on the back of his head, and an extensive framework of metal, wires, and impulse transmitters bolted onto his spine and lower rib cage.

The pict recorder crumbles to dust at his touch, proving a piece of evidence. He peers over the strange piece of machinery at the room centre. And he speaks in a level tone.

”This room is shielded and will interfere with vox transmissions. Judging by high ambient radiation, we are in an orbital or voidship within one to three astronomical units of a star. That machine in the centre is completely dead. That door is not powered and merely breaking the lock will allow it open. But six legionnaires have been left here unattended, albeit with no external weapons, armour, or equipment. Conclusion: we are in a crumbling and ancient prison. Or a test or trap that appears as such.“

He muses in front of the unopened stasis chamber, trying to see or auspex more of the sixth legionnaire. He continues speaking, not taking his eyes off the remaining stasis casket.

”I, Dromichaetes, was captured by servants of the dead Tyrant after an otherwise successful scorched earth operation. We have an Iron Warrior, and Od’Onnis, Word Bearer. We could speculate on identities but it would be more efficient to simply state them outright before we leave.”

"I am Korg, of the World Eaters.. I can look kinda scary, but don't let that fool you I'm a pretty friendly guy"

Korg takes a few steps from the casket. Stretching he gazes around the room before scratching his chin, his deamon-like maw set in a perpetual grin.

"We break this lock and we get out of here? Let's have a go at this then!"

Korg looks for something to force the door with.

Should he fail he tries using his bare hands on the door

"I am Dagon the Unworthy, Captain of the Blood Tithe, Sergeant of the Black Legion. They can have their crumbling prison and it's hexagramatic wards but I want my gun back. Anyone who gets between me and it is in for a bad time whether they be mortal, astrates or daemon."

He gives the others an appraising look "But I imagine we all want to recover our gear. I claimed that combi melta at the end of the heresy from the cold hands of a Blood Angel's Terminator I killed. It's never let me down in ten thousand years and I will return the favour." Dagon will move to assist Korg.

"I was confronted by a large Inquisitorial strike force, the Blood Tithe is likely gone to oblivion but that was just a ship. I'll claim another. I guess I killed one too many Marines Errant but we do what we must in service to the Dark Gods, even if such services attract attention. I will learn from this lesson."

Od'Onnis looks at the doors control and shrugs. Seeing the two begin pulling at the door to open it. Cocking his head to the side as they begin to work he makes up his mind and moves to assist.

Korg violently rips the door open with the assistance of Dagon and Od'Onnis.

Athletics under 52 (-30 check): 1d100 ⇒ 29: 5 degrees of success total.

+2 degrees of success from unnatural strength!

Visibility in the corridor is poor (limited to 2m), the lights are on but the air is thick with particles.

Deep into the corridor you hear the sound of metal on metal like a giant knife being dragged across the floor or a poorly oiled conveyor belt.

Just beyond the doorway you make out the shape of a guard post embedded in the wall.

The post consists of an armoured window with an intercom and is flanked by a small but strong looking door.

Dromichaetes turns to his unidentified companion - perhaps a plague marine?

"I will stand with legionnaire or mortal to strike against the Imperium. I want to know with whom I stand with now."

He then begins turning to face all the others in turn.

"The way is clear, except we have a sixth breathing in this casket. I have data but not the medical training to tell you their exact status.
We should not leave behind a potential ally - or enemy - at our backs."

@Od'Onnis
Then it seems we are in the same boat. What is the last you can rember before ... this ... I wonder if we can get some information out of the machine we just climed out of
*points in the general direction of the statis caskets*

Jurufar walks around in the room a bit "stretching" what's left of muscle and bone. He is looking at the door closely, wondering if there is any markings or signs that make any sort of sense or show a pattern.

@Dromichaetes
They call me Jurafar, I serve Nurgle and I am indeed in for to spread corruption. Assuming that we are all in this together, we may have similar goals

Od'Onnis looks down the corridor but with visability so low he doubts he'd see anything. Listening intently he tries to make out sounds and their locations.

Hearing check 52: 1d100 ⇒ 59

Unable to make much out he tries a different approach.
Speaking in a calm and neutral tone
"Hello? Is anyone there. We appear to have lost power and require assistance.

Deceive=59: 1d100 ⇒ 37

Od'Onnis makes himself sound like a mortal, lost and looking for aid. Smiling he turns to the others and whispers."Be ready for what comes brothers"

Dagon's a little more curious about the last one in the casket. "The sleeping one better pull his weight. Perhaps he's hibernating. It could be his machine failed before the rest of ours and took to slumber unable to get out of here by himself."

Dagon will look about the room for anything they could use, not necessarily as weapons but as makeshift tools. A group of Legionnaires without equipment was still a threat but prodding the machine spirits into action could be challenging at the best of times. Jury rig crowbars, bits of wire...

Od'Onnis get's exactly the response he asked for?

"ASSISTANCE!" A metallic voice shouts back as the sound of metal on metal suddenly changes direction.

You have no idea how far away they are because of the particle fog.

Reply if you wish to spend infamy or if I missed something. I'll roll the initiative for the unknown individual at the top of my next post. Please do all your own combat rolls.

Initiative Order:
Dagon
Korg
Od'Onnis
Jurufar
Dromichaetes

"Well something wicked this way comes", chuckles Od'Onnis. "Be prepared for...well whatever it is."

Dromichaetes is about to respond to the comments of his companions when he heard the metallic voice.

A servitor? A deranged Imperial? Details are important after all.

Tech-use, CL (tech), CL (adeptus mechanicus) or FL (archaotech) to get ideas on any further relevant details

He speaks as he moves and collates last-second data.

Move to D4. Auspex (tech-use functions to gather unusual data)

"Brothers, we must prepare. I propose forming a defensive line within the room. Should our enemy use melee, we can use numbers to destroy them. Should they use ranged weaponry, they will be within easy charge range."

Dromichaetes' arms movements correspond to a line from D3 to D7

I agree with you. we must be ready for whatever is coming

Jurufar positions himself about i9 looking at his new companions in excitement and tension

Dagon, is there anything you can make out about the sleeping beauty?

"Not just yet." Dagon moves over to take partial cover behind the casket he awoke in, he was mindful that he'd be more vulnerable without his wargear and until the nature of the foe was revealed he would rely on the terrain. He did not want to be caught in a cluster for a foe with a grenade or flamer to catch.

Not sure where the map is linked.

Od'Onnis watches the group spread out, no one following each other but acting how they best think. Shrugging he continues to keep watch down the corridor. The nature of the freedom of action that the worship of the Gods allow is sometimes strong willed individuals act in discord with each other. He smiles at this, it is the way it should be. All the freedom of the Gods or the lethargy of the organisations of the Deciever, the Pretender God called the Emperor. Familiar bile rises in his throat as he remembers the lies that the emperor told, that there were no Gods. Lies told by a creature who feared losing control.

Prepare actioin to move to G3 when I see what's coming

Dromichaetes knows he should know what is making the artificial speech.
It has to be something really common he's heard the voice patterns before.
It should be so easy but it's just beyond his memory right now.

Common Lore (Tech) +30: 1d100 ⇒ 91
Just two short of succeeding.

Korg feels a slight rush of excitement. A red mist a halo in his vision he moves to ready himself for a fight.

korg to i7 pressed against the wall ready to bound around the corner and attack

Unknown Attackers Initiative: 1d10 - 16 ⇒ (1) - 16 = -151d10 - 16 ⇒ (2) - 16 = -14:

The Unknown Attackers Initiative is -14 thanks to Jurufar's tail ...

• Dagon moves to B3 and takes cover behind the 6th marine's casket.

• Korg takes up position at I7 waiting to strike at what ever is coming down the corridor.

• Od'Onnis moves to G3 and takes cover behind the broken machine.

• Jurufar moves to I9 standing openly in he corridor his giant bone tail whips about as he moves.

• Dromichaetes moves to D4 and uses his embedded auspex to scan for anything unusual.
  

The sound of metal on metal stops and no one sees anything this turn (it had been coming from the direction of O9 deep in the corridor).

Initiative Order:
Dagon
Korg
Od'Onnis
Jurufar
Dromichaetes
Unknown Attacker

Map

In a low voice, Dromichaetes speaks:

"I can sense nothing from in here, I will reposition."

If no enemy has attacked by his turn, he will move to G7 as a half action and then use auspex with awareness function.

If an enemy has attacked by his turn, he will charge that enemy if he has a path, or else move as close as he can to try and support other PCs.

If needed, attack target 68 (ws 48 + charge 20), damage 1d10+8, primitive 7.

Dagon will ready a charge action for when the enemy is in range.

Jurufar readies himself, fists clenching - sending an inaudible shout to his tail to be ready for whatever comes ...
Looking quickly over his shoulder to make a quick note where everyone is.

can this be a servitor? I am almost certain ... it makes sense ... that voice ...

Companions - I am certain it is a servitor

Korg moves into the hall in the direction on the servitor.

"Let's see what we can find, eh chaps?" Once again in a cheery demeanor.

Korg moves a half move to get to the servitor. should he be able to reach it he shall try to gain information from it. If it is non responsive he will move past it to see what else he can find (awareness check?)

Korg's actions.

Korg half moves to I8 vanishing into the particle cloud.

The rest of the group hears the sound of metal slamming into metal accompanied by the thud of a large creature landing on the deck plate.

I need Od'Onnis and Jurufar to take their turns. Dagon's turn will go off when appropriate.

Dagon will move up beside Korg his interest roused. He patted the sleeping marine's casket before he leaves it's side. "It's an idea" Heading to H8

Jurufars muscles and tail are twitching in excitement.

KORG! WHATS HAPPENING

Jurufar will move up to Korg as well

fast ... he thinks

"Fiesty little servitor is all so far chaps, nothing to worry about."

Korg fights it happily, seemingly at peace as he moves in to attack

• Dagon moves into the corridor at H8.

• Korg stands at N8 in close combat.

• Od'Onnis moves to I7.

• Jurufar walks deep into the particle cloud and is now in combat at M9.
  Jurufar click here:

  
  Common Lore(War) -10 under 46: 1d100 ⇒ 1: 5 degrees of success.

  It's a murder servitor (armed with a mono-talon and viscerator limb) and it looks terrified.

• Dromichaetes moves to G7 and uses his embedded auspex.
  Dromichaetes click here:

  Awareness under 56: 1d100 ⇒ 70: failed.
  Using free reroll on perception based tests: 1d100 ⇒ 95: failed.

  It's not your day man.

• The murder servitor frenzies and is no longer affected by shock.
  

Next turn will be brutal. :D

Initiative Order:
Dagon
Korg
Od'Onnis
Jurufar
Dromichaetes
Murder Servitor

Map.

Dromichaetes takes note of the proclivities of his companions.

Some have allowed themselves to be drawn into a narrow area. A grenade or spray weapon would be most effectively used there.

"I will assist with the servitor once I have a clear path to it. And it may be worth salvaging afterwards."

Dromichaetes is curious to see what kind of servitor is up ahead. Particularly if it contains any useful cybernetics or weaponry.

Dromichaetes aims to either move to H9 and use auspex awareness to scan further down the corridors, or to charge the servitor should there be an obvious gap.

Dagon charges forward and launches a clenched fist towards it's midsection. Better to give the others a chance to aid in putting the thing down. He kept his guard up in case it tried to attack.

WS40+20/Charge

WS Test 60 or under: 1d100 ⇒ 4
Damage Primitive 7 if it doesn't dodge: 1d10 + 8 ⇒ (3) + 8 = 11Substituting in DOS for damage 5+8=13 Impact Damage

Another option occurs to Dromichaetes, one he has not had call to use in many years. The last time being when his helmet had been ripped off by an Imperial Fist "champion".

How that fool was surprised when he was blinded momentarily. Simply calling for "honourable combat" does not mean it will occur - his final lesson.

He would now advance down the corridor, working out the location of this servitor from the sounds, sights and vibrations of combat, and attacking by ranged bile.

He readies his Betcher's Gland.

Betcher’s Gland: The Chaos Space Marine may spit acid at his foes. This acts as a ranged weapon with the following
profile: (Range: 3m; Damage: 1d5; Pen: 4; Toxic). If the character rolls three or more Degrees of Success on his
Ballistic Skill Test, he may also blind the opponent for 1d5 Rounds.

BS 48 + range modifier +/- visibility (shooting blind is -30 I believe).

Od'Onnis moves out into the hallway, watching as the Legion marines began to leave Legion fist sized dents in the servitor. He admired they way they all pitched in to kill the pitiful servant of the Imperium but was annoyed by the lack of room for he and the others to add their boots to the party.

Move to J-8

Korg attacks, attempting to grapple his foe making it an easy target for his new found allies and limit its attacks on them and him.

WS54 or less: 1d100 ⇒ 68

The other astartes seem to be distracted by some assailant beyond the room's exit. This seems as good a time to make a move as any now that Dedelion of Ahriman's Thousand Sons is sure none serve the fool Emperor.

The beeping had awoken him from the same dream that has haunted what rare instances of sleep he has had over the millenia and he is glad to be awake once more.

The pod door creaks as Dedelion casts it aside and rises to his feet. Somewhat short for a marine, he has dark skin and a smooth complexion, his face marred only by a strange and difficult to look at tattoo on his cheek. He has a hooked nose and cruel eyes, but no noticable mutations, though his closeness to the warp is somehow obvious to anyone who would look upon him.

He moves to the door and adopts an open stance, to indicate he intends no threat to the others and waits to see how events unfold in the current battle.

"Hail fellows, I am Dedelion. I see you have found something for us to stretch our muscles after our rest!"

There is currently a +20 ganging up bonus.

• Dagon charges in with a clenched fist and throws a punch.

  But the frenzied murder servitor effortlessly avoids it: 1d100 ⇒ 1

• Korg tries to grapple the murder servitor.

  You hit due to the ganging up bonus.

  And the frenzied murder servitor fails to avoid it!: 1d100 ⇒ 80

  The frenzied murder servitor is now grappled(+20 to hit and this applies to Korg as well).

• Od'Onnis moves to L8 to observe the fight.

  Any further back and you would be unable to see everything.

• Jurufar wails on the servitor with fist and tail.

  Punch! under 86: 1d100 ⇒ 2: 9 degrees of success.

  Taking 9 as the damage roll since he can't roll higher.

  17 damage total and it is injured!

  Tail slash! under 86: 1d100 ⇒ 86: 1 degree of success.

  Tail slash damage: 1d10 + 8 ⇒ (3) + 8 = 11

  11 damage does nothing.

• Dromichaetes moves to H9 and auspexes.
  Dromichaetes click here:

  Awareness under 56: 1d100 ⇒ 2: 6 degrees of success.

  Dromichaetes sees deep into the corridor through the particle fog.

  He can detect 2 doors to the east and 1 to the west within the 50m range of the auspex.

  The corridor ends about 20 metres to the west but continues beyond the range of the auspex to the east.
  

• The murder servitor attempts to break free.

  Murder servitor's strength test under 42: 1d100 ⇒ 47
  Korg's strength test under 52: 1d100 ⇒ 66

  Both fail so nothing happens.
  

The last marine joins the fray at A5.

Dedelion's initiative: 1d10 + 4 ⇒ (8) + 4 = 12

Initiative Order:
Dagon
Dedelion
Korg
Od'Onnis
Jurufar
Dromichaetes
Murder Servitor

Map.

WS40+10/Aim+10/Single Attack +20/Outnumbering +20/Opponent Grappled=100 or under

Dagon doesn't hesitate to take advantage of his target being occupied wrestling with Korg and lines up a punishing blow to the servitors abdomen.

Single Attack, 100 or under to hit: 1d100 ⇒ 7 11 Degrees of success
8+11=19 Impact damage to the chest

Dromichaetes sees the casket open and calculates this is likely a rebel legionnaire.

"I am Tech-marine Dromichaetes, Iron Warrior. This battle is pleasingly one-sided. Do you remember how you came to be here?"

After a pause, he continues.

"There are at least two doors to the east, and one to the west before that corridor ends 20m further on."

Auspex with tech-use to detect anything unusual in the vicinity. The noisy battle might have attracted something.

Rolling to check if my punch last turn inflicted zealous hatred: 1d10 ⇒ 10
Crit inflicted: 1d5 ⇒ 2

It did Paul!

The weight of Jurufar's strike inflicts one level of fatigue on the target and sends both the target and Korg to the floor.

Both Korg and the murder servitor are now prone which is an additional +10 WS to hit.

Dagon actually got 12 degrees to hit this turn.

Korg continues to grapple with the servitor, seeking to gain advantage and have it in a better position for his allies to hit.

strength 52or less: 1d100 ⇒ 61