Emerik watched to see how she would deal with the clothes. It might tell something about her personality.
'Baron': Years ago a mission took you to Iocanthos, where barbarian tribesmen endlessly war across the steppes. Branded indelibly into your memory was the haunting cry of a common scavenging bird there; the 'Shale Crow.' It is the cry of this bird that you've just heard.
sister Jasmine The Abbot has two of his 'pilgrims' with him; you see one pilgrim adjusting his tunic, as he hurries after 'the Abbott'; and you catch a glimpse of a stub-pistol in the 'pilgrim's' robes.
Albaras: For a moment Nile looks like she's going to burst into tears, and then, laughing hysterically, she begins spritzing everyone around the table with foaming Armasec.
Emerik made to keep his distance, shaking his head slightly. Apparently the woman wasn't as wealthy as she liked to look, if she couldn't afford to replace the dress, or she had some sentimental attachment to that one in particular. Or, perhaps, she was just mad...she was Nobility, after all.
Binerith begins to inch away from Nile, ever so slightly.....
To Master Nonesuch: "Are Shale Crows common here?"
Shooting his eyes suspiciously towards the seeress, so Nonesuch notices
Master Nonesuch : I don't believe they are sir; perhaps there's some particularly delectable carrion here to tempt them from their native world?
Nile: (To Bland)Would you mind walking me back to my room? I think perhaps I've had enough for the evening.
Having already drawn more attention to herself and being outnumbered by the "pilgrims" Sister Jasmine decides not to pursue him further...for now. Keeping the mission in mind, she returns to the party and her cadre, ready for this auction to take place, so that they might tie up loose ends afterwards.
Binerith walks over to Albaras Is the mission to your liking so far? He asks in a bored tone
Glancing at the Engineseer, Emerik murmured, "Frankly, I'm not sure I'm suited to this calling. My job was always finding clever ways to make sure there was a heretic at the end of our guns, and not the other way around. But command didn't feel I was suited to such, and the Inquisition believes I can serve, so..." the Ex-Guardsman shrugged his armored shoulders. "But this has the feeling of violence to come, this place. Something is wrong here. Perhaps this will be my kind of duty after all."
It is as if some climax has been reached; Marshrek and Master Nonesuch are making ready to leave.
Binerith nods Poetic... He watches Marshrek and Master Nonesuch leave with an air of disinterest.
"Hah," Emerik replied with a chuckle, "I follow the finest poets of the Infantryman's Primer." He watched the room start to empty. "Now what?" he queried over the commbead.
The somber guild-members appear from the shadows, and silently begin clearing the table; among the epic and gloomy statuary, the remains of this evening's party seem sad and pathetic.
Tomorrow the items of the auction will be put on display. The actual auction is tomorrow evening; though night and day seem to blend into a dreary twilight monotony in this place.
There's a whisper of static, and a faint, moaning voice on your comm-beads, on a reserved, encrypted channel.
Binerith, you want to make a Tech-Use test (Ordinary, +10) to see if you recorded the message, and can enhance it enough that you can make out the garbled message.
Binerith strains his half-organic ears, and tries to focus on the message. Grinning in satisfaction at being able to record the message, Binerith attempts to try and enhance the audio, fervently praying while palming his vial of machine oil.
Transmission: Emperor...protect me! Stay back! Throne no! Emperor protect me! Flee while you can! There's a ship, in a hidden cove! Aaah! No...
Binerith quickly motions for his companions to gather around him. When they do so, he repeats the message A ship, in a hidden cove....hmm..
The map you downloaded seems to only include interior details, showing nothing of the island outside the place's titanic walls. You do have an idea of the island's size, it is a little over three km. in diameter.
The island is, of course, volcanic, and very rugged, and with the dense pall of smoke that seems to lay perpetually over the place, it is not hard to imagine that there would many small coves and inlets that would be 'hidden'; especially since it would seem that most traffic to the place only approaches from one side.
It would seem that someone does not want more guests to arrive to tomorrows auction. We need to know if that ship was the target or if everyone is. Leaving could be an issue if we do not expose the cowards. We should perhaps inquire and or alert relevant authorities looking around with a blank face, unsure whether anyone would even care. Perhaps whom ever is in charge would like to know that potential bidders are being ambushed and that will surely affect the thrones they count at the end. pausing for others to chime in with ideas or support of her own.
If we are powerless and can be of no help in this matter, then we should focus on the auction tomorrow and the traitors we have in our midst. That abbot is a fraud and shall expose his heresy or insides before we leave. Alerting any authorities might increase security, making it harder to achieve our own goals or it could divert limited personnel away, giving us more room to act.
You make you way back to your room, passing only a few archaic Servitors, going about their programmed tasks in the labyrinthine corridors.
If there was anything to see, Emerik did not spot it.
Binerith simply nods to Sister Jasmine. He will let the others figure it out. However, at the end, he pipes up I do not think we should take chances. We shouldn't alert the authorities
Binerith walks on, unaware of any suspicious things happening around him
Perc 37 +10 Awareness -10 difficulty vs
Sister Jasmine returns with the cadre, her senses remaining sharp with the recent developments. Eager to return and gather the rest of her equipment, feeling naked without her familiar tools for conflict resolution and spiritual cleansing in the name of the Emperor.
In response to Binerith Sister Jasmine replies: Perhaps your paranoia is justified on this occasion. We do not know who we can trust.
The gritty dust is everywhere, its seems that a thick layer is put down hourly. Sister Jasmine notes that there is a dark smudge, about a meter above the floor, along the wall, a little further down the hall.
Going a little closer she is struck by the suspicion that what she's seeing is blood.
Jasmine points out what she's sees and believes to be blood. Blood... We are not safe here.
While unsure what type of blood, she was reminded of the sisters on her order who would. Knowing sooner than later she would need to decide her own discipline, she kept an open and curious mind.
Emerik nodded, unstrapping the holsters on his weapons without making things too obvious, allowing an easier draw of the modified rifles. "I don't think we ever were."
Binerith attempts to calm himself. He drops a hand to his las-gun, and gets ready to fill the ears of any nearby enemies. He slowly begins to look around, stepping away from the blood.
More Perceptions tests please (Difficult, -10).
Emerik looked around, trying to see if there was a trail or potential source for the blood. If it was simply a servitor that had been damaged, they would feel rather silly.
Perception 47 - 10 vs
Sister Jasmine, to absorbed in her own thoughts, barely notices her company draw weapons. A little off guard, she thinks more about the blood and where it had come from, how it came to be on this wall, intentional or accidental?
Scrutiny Test? Per (37) or Int (39) vs
Binerith looks around, but does not see anything odd.
Yelisaveta leaves the reception, sending a friendly wave at Octavia. I think that's where we should start turning them against each other. Her, or that alien witch. She hurries towards the door, a rapid mononous tone heard from her Castell heels, deep in thought. That was a pathetic excuse for a soiree. On the bright side, that proposterously heretical tub of lard proved he's a terrible, terrible actor. She ponders as she nears the room, analysing the events of the night. Shame on the two hitmen, though. I'd have preferred them on our side... Moving her manicured fingers around, she draws connections, threads and plots in her head, oblivious to the dark, damp corridor.
She stops outside the door, sighing to see it open. Emperor forsake it, it's one thing to have a single damn chamber for all of us, another to have the place have more dust than a coal mine, but at least the чертовски doors can close automatically. She fixes her long blue shimmering dress, walking in with a irritated expression on her face. As she enters and sees the tension in the room, alongside the origin of said tension, and in a moment, a long pistol is drawn from a hip holster, concealed behind the dress' thigh slit.
Upon realising there's no immediate danger, she holsters the gun back, smirk appearing on her lips. "That had better be blood." All posture and pose is gone from her voice, which is now tinged with a slight Volg accent, as she sits in a nearby couch and removes her shoes with a sigh of relief. Blessed be He on his Golden Throne.
"Binerith, could you look at the door console, and tell us when the door was accessed last?", she asks curtly, as always when refering to the Tech-Priest, "I am assuming none of you have spilt that while I was getting ready? If so, there has to be tracks, and the початок should be getting here soon to take a look.", the Volg slang for an Arbitrator slipping between her lips.
"Huh...", she mutters, noticing something unusual.
The blood was in the outside hall. The locks are of a simple mechanical type: infuriatingly primitive.
I'm going to assume that, as per 'Volg Rules', you left carefully left your possessions in the room arrayed in such a way that if anything was disturbed, in even the slightest, it would be clearly be noticeable.
There's no sign that anyone was in your rooms.
The next room is Cisten's. Then there's Vyhmer and Quill. Abbot Thomas. Nile.
Marshrek, Nonesuch, and Babd Ra are the next lower level.
The blood is on the inner wall between the room of the two-button men and Cisten.
Aleekseevna notices that there is a clear patch, free of the ubiquitous dust, right in the center of the door to the room where Vhymer and Quill are lodged.
"I can probably get us into the other rooms, the locks seem only of marginal quality, of course that has it's own risks."
Don't have any tools for the task, but can a knowledge of Chymistry determine anything about the blood, or at least confirm it is in fact blood?
Allrianne remains outwardly calm, though inside she itches to pull out her blade, and wonders as to retrieving her rifle from the room.
Sebastian De Guerre, a youth of no more than 20 summers,
excuses himself from the party as he notices the other acolytes doing the same. He sees Yelisaveta and Allrianne and joins them.
"Ladies, what seems to be the problem?"
Sebastian grips the boltpistol he always carries. He scratches his chin, "Let's see what we can find."
Yelisaveta puts on her painfully lavish shoes once more, frowning ever so slightly, then stands up from the comfortable chair and leaves the room, throwing one more suspicious glance at the seemigly unmoved belongings. She nods at Sebastian, "Hm. Look there, Malfi.", she says, extending her finger towards the bloodstain, "And over there.", she points towards the clear patch. "Now, I'm no expert on crime," Simply a passionate amateur., her crimson lips curl in a smirk. "but I believe that the hitmen might've had some sort of... misunderstanding with our poor, poor little Cisten."
She crosses her arms, rubbing her chin with a finger contemplatively. "Now, I suggest we pay those сволоч a visit, and dress for the occasion. And if we come down to blows, we can say we saw them drag the poor adept inside." She smiles at Emerik, the triggerman ready as ever to bust out the autoguns, then waves at him. "While he certainly has the right idea, I'd suggest asking nicely first. Speak softly and carry a big caliber."
She smiles at Allrianne, eyes glancing over her dress. "Let's change, Ri. Their asses don't deserve the dignity to be kicked by Castels.", she smirks, going inside.
Allrianne smiles at Yelisaveta, as she returns to the rooms and starts unlacing her dress, before discarding it and exposing the form-hugging black Synskin beneath, finally pulling the featureless mask down over her face.
She briefly considers leaving the rifle, the rooms here would be better suited to close combat anyway - but better to cover all the bases.
"Is this better dearest?" she comments, mainly towards Yelisaveta.
Emerik grinned lopsidedly. "Or a smaller caliber with lots and lots of bullets," he added, patting the converted autoguns. "But politeness never hurts as an opening gamble." Well, except with traitors and heretics - the Inquisition did have views - but here, it should work well enough.
Sebastian looks at the two ladies and giggles, "Big caliber hehehehehe"
Sebastian gets a feeling that there's more to that subtext hehehehehe
Binerith heads towards the door console, and does as he was asked
Can someone else roll for me? I typed up 1d00, but it still comes out as one, probably because I am on mobile
DeGuerre : There's a presence nearby, watchful and alert; like an animalistic predator. You also noticed the cleared spot on the door to Vhymer and Quill's room; perhaps somebody leaning on the door?
Sebastian pulls his boltpistol, makes a sign for silence and moves to cover and then aims his weapon at the door.
"Ladies, check the door please, carefully," Sebastian whispers, he then flips the switch of his pistol's laser sight.