Daxio Scavran's page

Decimus, we all hope to see you back soon!

To everyone else, I have a Dark Heresy 1st Edition game that has suffered a level of attrition appropriate for the 40k universe. As such, I am looking to recruit a few new players to round out the Inquisitorial Elite, and get our stalled game back up and running.

If you are interested, feel free to tag into the Recruitment thread HERE. I would be happy to help you craft a character, or if you are stuck on a concept, you are welcome to adopt one of the players who has departed.

Current Group:
Kevin O'Rourke 440 - Naltos Sholl (Mutant Penal Legionaire)
BoggBear - Havelock Iacton (Mind Cleansed Verispex Adept)
Simeon - Ptah 7-Kappa (Forge World Techpriest)
Spazmodeus - Zimm Nata (Feral World Assassin)
hopefully returning Decimus Observet - Julien Lambert (Sinophian Imperial Psyker)

Lost to the Perils of the Warp
Brother Balthasar (Schola Progenium Priest)
Caius Grimn (Noble Born Arbitrator)
Yelisaveta Alekseevna (Hive World Scum)

Daxio follows Pens up into the back of the truck for a moment, "Keep an eye ou' fer truble, I don' trus' dis lo'. Don' ac' if ye don' 'ave teh, bu' if'n goes sideways, rain 'ell."

Hopping down out of the truckbed, he moves over to the autocarraige with Xipil and slides in beside him, his shotgun slow low still across his chest.

I have been offline for the past two weeks following a complication with my wife's recovery from her Cesarean. I want to apologize for not posting to inform people as two what was going on with me, and thank you all for your patience. I would very much like to get back to this game, but understand my intermittent absence has been frustrating for some. I am hopeful things will move forward smoothly for me now, but should more troubles arise in the future, will step aside then.

This is definitely not the traditional use of interrogation, but I want to use it to grill the speaker and throw his further off balance from Ven's comments. I am happy to spend a Fate point to boost it. If it doesn't work, I totally understand.

Cycling the action on his shotgun intentionally audibly, Daxio steps up alongside, but just slightly behind, Ven. A harsh sneer comes across his face, and his voice takes on a menacing tone. "Ye tink we ain' seen som'ne try the skim us 'fore? Deh Reaper ain' pleased, no, no' a' all... Are ye deh one been muckin' i' up?! Or is it yer boss, is it 'e? Where is 'e, roight now? Oi, we cudd use a few fools teh make an example of..."

Interrogation(35): 1d100 ⇒ 31

As the landing feet for the flyer touch the pad, Daxio cuts the engines, allowing their last thrusts of power to ease the craft into its resting position. Powering down the other systems, Daxio stands and grabs the lever to release the boarding ramp. Turning to the Guardsmen, "Well, Dargo', ye ready? Den le's do dis."

Pulling the lever, he takes up position at Targot's right rear, his shotgun slung across his chest in the low ready, as was the norm when on duty.

Awareness (40+10): 1d100 ⇒ 81

"Feck, now das a welk'min' par'y. Don' look teh much loik dey wanna talk wit us. Prolly go' som'tin', bu' I'm flyin' roight now. Anyone else?"

Daxio turns the flyer toward Starport 1, slowing the engines and bringing it in for a landing.

600 xp
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Ballistic Skill +5 (100)
Talent: Nowhere to Hide (tier 1, 200)
Talent: Precision Killer (tier 2, 300)

A sniper is he......

Common Lore (imperial navy): 1d100 ⇒ 3

Daxio grimaces at the sound of that name. "Eh, feckin' Reaper, 'ey? Dat pirate's been up teh trouble in a couple sectors. Likes teh run, radder dan foight. Seems dis Talbot's got a friend in 'im."

Daxio continues the flyer on course toward the starport, having been given no alternate direction from any of his allies. With several minutes to spare, he removes his pilot's jack and switches into his armsmen's uniform and armor. They are expecting trouble, and the quartermaster of a Rogue Trader would likely be escorted by a military presence anyway.

Scrutiny (40+20=60): 1d100 ⇒ 95

Daxio had dismounted the craft still in his duster coat and light gear. When the overseer dismissively directed Ven elsewhere he was caught offguard. As the Guardsman quickly led them back to the lander, Daxio glanced back in the direction of those silos. He knew that smell, people often tried to sell spoiled food on his homeworld.

Back onboard, he hears his comrades' words. "hmm, guessin' yer roight, don't know teh many nobles meself, figure maybe da's 'ow dey speak teh each udder 'ere. Bu' I do know da' grain smelled roight foul, gone teh waste long ago. An' da's no roight."

Turning to his charge, he thought to himself 'The twist makes sense, but we have to wait.'. "Pen, 'old yer anger. We need teh find de 'ead 'oncho o' dis conspir'cy. Den yeh can crush 'im, an' all 'is lackeys. Fer deh Emp'ror!"

Taking Ven's lead, Daxio dips the craft slightly, bringing it into a path toward the storage complexes. [n]"Ay, sounds roight, Quar'ermas'er. Bes' be ready fer trouble, som'ne's out fer blud."[/b]

After a lengthy battle, we have a son! Heading home with my wife and baby (everyone is healthy) shortly, will hopefully post later tonight.

My wife has gone into labor with our first child, posting will be limited the next couple of days. Thank you all for the support!

Daxio keeps on eye on the controls and the other on the land below. "Seems like dey be fixin' teh be keepin' i' all 'ere. Yeh tink dey be selling' teh som'ne else? Roight, sarge, dey need weapons, an' yeh be needin' fud - cud be a set o' matchin' shells, if'n yeh follow." he says in response to the guardsmen's words.

"Course, if'n dey don' be getin' many folks from o'world, dey migh' no' be so trustin'. Bes' be 'avin' our blades sharp an' our mags rocked."

Daxio looks at the techpriest with his overly aggressive threat and chuckles. "Aim teh be makin' a few friends then, do yeah? Well lads, le's get in deh bird, hunker down til the Emp'ror's rage be dyin' down. Den is on teh Recompense."

Daxio throws a wave to the fisherman, scans the horizon one last time, then withdraws to the safety of the shuttle.

Thinking back over the words of the fishermen, Daxio shakes his head then turns to the others. "A 'ole bloody generation since deh las' tithe?! Dat confirms wut deh Inquisidor's ledder said. Ain' no one been doin' anythin' wi' deh food. So, is it jus' spoilin' den? Sounds like we need teh ge' teh Recompense, an' 'ave a few words."

Daxio listens intently while keeping his eyes peeled. The fact that someone would fire a missile at a fishing vessel for pulling to big a harvest has him thoroughly perplexed.

"Yeh say bad tings 'appen when yeh 'ave teh good a 'arvest, or pull teh many fish, eh? Seems kinda backward of what yeh'd expec'. I mean, dis an agriworld, supposed teh produce food. Who'd wanna punish som'ne fer dat? Besides dees Katrinkes, dere any'ne else dat's no teh kind on yer workin' folk?"

Daxio curses at himself under his breath. "Damn, I need to keep the cant in check - the people here can't even understand me. I had a handle on it shipboard, why is it coming back so fast now?"

Daxio moves over to the Guard Sergeant Ven. Leaning in close, he keeps his voice low, "dere's someone out dere, in da storm. I know i'. Tried teh sink dese boys, prob'ly teh 'ide sometin'. P'rhaps we le' the storm pass, den take a look 'round?"

Kneeling by the damaged hull alongside the techpriest, Daxio traces the damage and burn marks with his fingers.
"Damn, dat's gotta be a tredfedder, y'know? Tear a blas' like dat, ain't nottin' bu' twigs an' glue lef' - Emperor's ligh' kep' dem afloa'. P'rhaps dey go' too close teh sometin', yeh know? Like a secre' base, or anodder vessel?"

Instinctively, Daxio flicks the release on his pistol's holster, getting it ready for a quick draw. 'If someone tried to sink this ship, they might still be watching. This could be an ambush...'

His eyes scan the horizon and the storm clouds alike.

Awareness(40): 1d100 ⇒ 44

Coming down from the cockpit, he listens to the conversations between his team and the fisherman. He goes over and inspects the damage to their vessel.

Trade(armourer) +20, 45: 1d100 ⇒ 29
2 degrees of success

With the storm outside slamming against the craft and the controls of the lighter firmly in his grasp, Daxio silently offers a prayer to the Emperor. 'Let those who walk in the Light of the Emperor be guided on their path. Let there be strength in their step and passion in their cause. Let there be truth in their word and devotion in their deed. The Emperor be praised.'

Carefully he tries to pull the damaged vessel to shore.

Operate (Aeronautica), -15 (30): 1d100 ⇒ 11

Having been busy piloting the lander, he had heard little of the precise discussion between his comrades, but had instead focused on keeping the craft low and level amidst the howling wind, but still safely above the tossing sea. Hearing that his comrades are working to attach ropes to the craft, he continues his holding pattern while preparing to adjust into a low altitude, slow thrust maneuver. At the techpriest's offer of assistance, he nods with a wry smile, "'Ey, dat be roight good. I used teh flyin', but dis bird, woo, she's sleak an' sharp, no like the 'ogs I used teh. Moves like a lady dancer! 'Preciate yer aid, Master Xipil."

Once is is assured that the craft has been securely attached to the lander, he will ginger ease it toward shore.

(but not before then. rolling now so my posting does not delay the storyline further)
Operate (Aeronautica) 45: 1d100 ⇒ 18

Having secured himself into cover amidst the crops, he turns back to take stock of the situation and his allies... and sees Pens walking off into the distance on it's own. 'Damnable twist, it's going to get us all killed.' Maintaining cover within the field, he hurries along toward the giant woman, hoping to catch up to her. 'I am lucky she is moving at a comfortable pace. Damn, her gait is long!'

Drawing close to her, he comes to the edge of the crops and then lowly calls out to her, "Pens, slow yerself. You can' be chasin' all bou'. We need to ge' back to the lander wit the odders. "

Daxio sees the techpriest squint and strain his face as he speaks, clearly making an effort to listen. "Damn, planetside for less than an hour, and my lick is coming out hard. I need to curtail that with these high types." With a subtle cough and clearing of his throat, he continues with Xipil, "Right true, but jus' cause some are inep', don' mean they all are. An' we wouldn' wan' to loose an ace like tha'. Be trapped planetside, tha' no good a' all. If they-" he gestures towards Ven and the others, "- wanna follow the caravan, you an' I can slip back to bring it along."

As the work crew gets back to its duties, Daxio attempts to separate from the field of laborers into the cover of the crops, staying close but not wanting to get roped in with the menials of the planet.

Stealth(45): 1d100 ⇒ 22

Daxio continues to watch the strange exchange between the tithe-guards, his ally Targot, and now the added twist female. "Damn, that's just not right...' He shakes his head a little thinking of the striking woman and what she really is.

Noticing the approaching caravan, he spends a few moments taking stock of the caravan before casually moving closer to the techpriest Xipil. Cautious to stay subtle while getting his attention, he speaks up, "'Ey! Seem like dey're makin' some progress. Who knows 'ow far 'way dis place is. Thinkin' we bring our glider? Don' wan' no farm'and takin' for a joy ride, right?"

Awareness(40): 1d100 ⇒ 62

Stealth(45): 1d100 ⇒ 33

Staying back from Enoch and Ven, Daxio continues to casually move amidst the workers. 'Doesn't seem like they are holding the workers at arms. Not that they are soldiers, but they could be capable. And the harvest does happen, so...' His thoughts trail off as he sees the guard point in the direction back toward their ship. Looking over, he is disappointed to see the other three already following along. 'So much for trying to maintain the laborer cover, knew it would be a mess...'

Daxio stays loose moving among the laborers, negative thoughts chasing through his mind. 'We look to different, we stand out. Damn this sergeant, so cavalierly asking his questions. This is going to sour, fast.' He took more than a few moments to size up the Tithe Guards, including the nature and quality of their kit and their general attitude toward the laborers.

Scrutiny(40): 1d100 ⇒ 17 3 DoS

Stealth +10 (55): 1d100 ⇒ 30 3 DoS
Navigate +10 (unc, 15): 1d100 ⇒ 5 2 DoS

Daxio looks on the direction the Guardsman points. He glances across the horizon a bit when his eyes catch something that reminds him of life back home. "Sergean', no' meaning to be disagreeable, but thrashin' through those fields don' seem too clear. Reckon their's a path by that there water tower. Now, stay low an' keep yer tongue tigh'."

Pulling his storm coat close, he makes off in the direction he had identified as likely containing people.

Apologies for the absent weekend. Work got insane and I failed to post an update regarding it.

If our cover holds at all as laborers, it will either cause us to leave our lander far behind (and thus lost as a resource), or be ended when we make efforts to bring the lander along. I think simply claiming to be agents of a free captain from the get go makes the most sense if for no other reason than to protect our mode of transit. That said, my absence this weekend makes me late to the table and the votes are otherwise universal, so I echo the will of the party.

Daxio is switching out of his armsmen (guard) flak armour and into his flak coat. He will have his stub pistol and compact sniper rifle with him.

For future reference and possibly to benefit Targot, guard flak armour stands above other forms of flak protection because of the addition of armored plates of thermaplas and ceramite, as well as its helmet. Would it be possible to remove these plated parts and have it count as standard flak armour (ap 3) or even light flak (ap 2)?

Daxio catches the bundle of ragged cloth from Targot, looks down at them, then back up with a raised eyebrow. Holding up the threadbare canvas-like jumpsuit in one hand, he points at the ceramite plates upon the guard sergeant's chest. "Yer plannin' to pull these on over that armor? Doubt these folk be 'avin' bits like these." He knocks on his own reinforced armor. "If it don' rip doin' it, at best we'll look like bunch a malformed grox'erders. No, best be movin' light."

With a sigh, Daxio begins stripping out of his armor and kit. After he does, he pulls on the coveralls, then goes and retrieves a roll from his gear, unties a strap and shakes it out to reveal a faded gray storm coat. Like the coveralls, it is weathered and beaten, but clearly still in serviceable condition. While not a perfect match for the coveralls, it, along with a simple scarf around the neck, adopt better to go with the look than his armor could. For any paying attention, it actually seems as though Daxio now looks more at home in the look, then in the uniform he had previously worn. He tucks a stub pistol into a pocket in the coat, then hoists a small rifle, bundling it up in in a simple sack, which he slings over his shoulder so it hangs across his back.

The techpriest is a pilot, seems he can use what he builds, not a bad companion to have. "Like Techpriest Xipil, I too can pitch a lander. Dat said, we might want a pilot - if we leave the ship unattended as we wonder the planet, someone might reckon its for the takin'. An', if'n we need it in a pinch, saves a trip back to where we 'eft it. Make sense?"

Daxio listens to the multi-tiered cover story with reservation. "Confess, I'm wary playin' at native laborers will end in folly. We have no knowledge of the last two decades on this world. And I reckon none of you know the particular sound of their tongue? Not sayin' I oppose it, but we gotta be careful. If our first impression is an easily seen lie, would it not be harder for us to earn their trust?"

After the exchange with his allies, Daxio turns to the leiutenant.
"Leiutenant, by yer leave, I'd request access to the ship's quartermaster. We're all drawn 'ere abruptly, think we each need a bit o' kit to prepare for our mission. Finally sir, as I said 'fore, I was the Twistcatcher's aide, I'd be happy to assist wit any such duties as you see fit while we approach Novabella. Sir."

The techpriest is a pilot, seems he can use what he builds, not a bad companion to have. "Like Techpriest Xipil, I too can pitch a lander. Dat said, we might want a pilot - if we leave the ship unattended as we wonder the planet, someone might reckon its for the takin'. An', if'n we need it in a pinch, saves a trip back to where we 'eft it. Make sense?"

Daxio listens to the multi-tiered cover story with reservation. "Confess, I'm wary playin' at native laborers will end in folly. We have no knowledge of the last two decades on this world. And I reckon none of you know the particular sound of their tongue? Not sayin' I oppose it, but we gotta be careful. If our first impression is an easily seen lie, would it not be harder for us to earn their trust?"

After the exchange with his allies, Daxio turns to the leiutenant.
"Leiutenant, by yer leave, I'd request access to the ship's quartermaster. We're all drawn 'ere abruptly, think we each need a bit o' kit to prepare for our mission. Finally sir, as I said 'fore, I was the Twistcatcher's aide, I'd be happy to assist wit any such duties as you see fit while we approach Novabella. Sir."

As he is about to walk out of their bunk, he pauses, then looks to his armored charge. "Pens, grab that chest. Might be handy to hold on to, eh?"

--------------------

Daxio is keenly aware that the hallways they pass through have been emptied, no doubt because of their mission... and their companion. Glancing back at him, the thought crosses his mind, 'Damn, if any ratings see him, they'd be likely to raise the alarm. He's an unsettlin' one. It's going to be hard planetside keeping him under wraps.' Shaking his head, he continues down the corridors until they reach their destination.

Entering the chamber, he snaps to attention and salutes, "Daxio Scavran, Armsman First Class, Twistcatcher's Aide, of the cruiser Dauntless Spirit. At your service." For those who have paid attention to his speech pattern thus far, it is clear Daxio is trying to maintain a far more formal diction than before.

Daxio lets the Guard Sergeant and the Techpriest jump to the lead, he was a man of action, not necessarily words. When the sergeant calls for a full breakdown of His Enduring Light's capabilities, a bemused look sneaks onto his face, and he drops into his more natural speech pattern. "Pardon me, sergeant, but are you a'ready plannin' a full orb'tal assault? Such an order might be 'yond our scope, don' you reckon?"

As Valdear raises her concern, he nods his head. "I doubt many o' us could pass for natives, so claimin' to be laborers movin' won't likely last more 'en a sec. A free cap'ain could make sense, specially given our diverse nature. Maybe we say the big 'un is an ogyrn, servin' as our cap'ain's bodyguard. Doubtful they'd know the diff'rence. An' wit two weeks' time, sure we can come up with some kind of robe or cloak for it."

Okay, definitely different from simply spending thrones on gear. The book mentioned trying to find a lot of special or unique items can have additional challenges, so I kept the majority of my reqs to common or above, with only 2 average and 1 scarce (which will also cost 1 subtlety) being tested for. Here we go!

Weapons & Upgrades
silencer (rifle), plnt (50): 1d100 ⇒ 61
silencer (pistol), plnt (50): 1d100 ⇒ 18 Acq+++
frag grenades, cmn (40): 1d100 ⇒ 29 Acq+
stub pistol, avg (30): 1d100 ⇒ 24 Acq
red dot sight (rifle), scr (20): 1d100 ⇒ 1 Acq+, nat 1!

Consumables
ration pack, plnt (50): 1d100 ⇒ 97

Gear
backpack, abnd (60): 1d100 ⇒ 31 Acq++
stab light, abnd (60): 1d100 ⇒ 73
stummer, avg (30): 1d100 ⇒ 13 Acq+

Follow Up
Wow, those were good rolls, but apparently I suck at trying to get food. I am going to spend a Fate to reroll that, don't need to take a 4 point hit to my Influence over some rations (not sure if we each get a 'mulligan' as xipil did, but I am assuming we don't).

ration pack, plnt (50): 1d100 ⇒ 20 Acq+++

Also, I know my Scarce roll costs the party 1 subtlety. I was curious if getting a 'nat 1' on the roll helped at all with that, or something else?

Requisitioned silencer (pistol), frag grenades (2), stub pistol (2 mags), red dot sight (rifle), ration packs (4), backpack, stummer

Finally, I would like to requisition the parts to convert my sniper rifle to compact, as previously discussed. Applying the +30 for parts requisition per page 162, I will follow it up with my attempt to make the conversion. Let the dice roll...

compact, avg, self (60): 1d100 ⇒ 55 Acq
trade (armourer) (45): 1d100 ⇒ 13 Success+++

Damn, okay! Any chance that many degrees of success has an added perk to the modification - it doesn't take the minus 1 to dmg, or retains its normal range increment perhaps? (I can be hopeful, right?)

"Guess it's time for us to get a movin'. Let's tuck all this in for later." Daxio picks up the rest of his kit, slinging his pack, rifle, and a slim bundle onto his back. As he does, he stows two of the bags of chits into his pack. "Figure we should split up the coin. Techpriest Xipil, would you secure the slates?"

Once the resources provided have been secured, Daxio turns back toward the guardsman. "Sergeant, 'fore we go, p'rhaps you'd share yer name with us? Put us on a lev'l groun?" He reaches out his hand to shake with him, expectantly.

As the others start to depart the chamber, Daxio prepares to take up the rear with his new charge. Looking up at the unnerving metal helm, he nods, "So, yer followin' me, then? You got any way to look less obvious?" Realizing the man-beast seems to be carrying no gear, he reaches down toward one of the bunks and grabs the munition-grey thin blanket. Tossing it over the creatures shoulders, he sighs, "That's slightly better - let's get goin'."

Apologies for the delay, had a bit of a scare with the wife Sunday night. She is 29 weeks pregnant and started having sudden vision problems and numbness in part of her face. Everyone is all good, vitals for both her and the baby were fine, and no signs of any Neuro issues. She has a history of migraines, the doctors think one may have presented differently because of the pregnancy. Now we just have to stay vigilant for a repeat.

Thank you all for your understanding, will post shortly.

Thank you for the details on shotgun slugs. Much appreciated.

Sorry to hear about the earache, hopefully it passes quickly.

Notes on Fate Points and XP, and Alternate Skill Characteristics all sound good to me.

Daxio looks down at Enoch kneeling before the chest. His garb is of questionable nature, and the scars suggest he has seen a fire fight or two. Seems to know about tech, and locks specifically. Could've been a security agent for some noble, but more than likely he's a booster. Will need to keep an eye on him and his motives...

"Well Enoch, whst you say, that looks like it coulda gone bad. Glad we had the key, eh? Why don' you pass up them pouches, we can have a look." Assuming Enoch does, Daxio will unfasten any clasp or tie and look in the pouch, trusting that either Enoch or the sergeant will handle the letter.

Daxio uncertainly looks from the creature down to the trigger device he was given. Feeling it's solid weight in his hand, with an eyebrow raised, "Pens, you say? Do realize I will not hesitate to use this, if you try to harm or betray us. Just so we are clear."

He turns to his newfound companions as he lowers his shotgun, and attaches the detonator to his harness belt at his hip. "I don' like, I won' mix words. I used to hunt these things, back on my ship. But if Inquisitor Barabbas sees some worth in... it... well, then its with us." When his eyes land on the Guard Sergeant, he sticks his hand toward, "Name's Daxio Scavran, Armsman First Class, served on the cruiser Dauntless Spirit. Was a hog jockie back on Luxar Delta 'fore that."

Nodding down toward the chest, he looks across the assembled group. "Letter says only us six can open it safely. Now, I got a mind for tinkering wit sluggers an' blasters, but that things beyond me. Anyone have an idea if there are sensors we gotta touch on it, or some such?"

Sorry, when I edited my post, it must have switched back to my default avatar. Will try to catch that next time.

Another man had been sitting on his bunk, dressed in a tank and the lower half of black naval fatigues. His hands work diligently on the rifle across his lap, small tools adjusting minor details. As the armsman arrives, he rises, pulling the top half of his coveralls up and closing it's buttons. His uniform is not dissimilar from the armsman's, and distinctly bares Imperial Naval markings, though has a different cut and pattern to it. He likewise wears his silver hair long and pulled back, something not seen thus far on this vessel. As he steps forward toward the others, he slings a ceramite and thermaplas chestplate on, pulling it's harness tight. His rifle and pack remain on his bunk, but he lifts a stocky shotgun in one hand and secures a short-bladed chainsword on his hip with the other. His face is youthful and slim, though shows the scars of one whose life has been difficult.

The Guardsman and the Techpriest are already at odds, this should be fun. I'm not one for authority, let them battle over that. I am just here to get the job done.

"What's it say, Sergeant?" he says, looking at the Guardsman, settling into an 'at ease' stance, one hand holding the shotgun now sling low across his abdomen.