What issss it that you waant? it asks, seemingly agitated at your presence.
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Sorry for the delay guys, I've been a busy bee.
"Keys," the daemon rumbles. "There's no keys in Lurgach's lair, only morsels." The daemon grins from ear to ear (literally), and its eyes wander over you as it considers whether you fall into that category or not.
As you walk through the putrescent bilges, you eventually walk into an area that appears to show signs of habitation. Pressing forward slowly, eventually what lives there materializes from the obscuring gassy fog. A daemon watches you cautiously as you approach it, but does not attack. Its green body is bloated and oozes with substances better left unmentioned. Horns rise from its head, and it carries a rusted, pock-marked blade in one hand. In a burbling voice it asks what what brought you to its lair.
As you all lower the bridge down, you find yourselves entering the true bowels of the Chains, the bilges. The bilges are a vile place, noticeably different from the decks above. The air is thick, foggy, and hard to breath and the sounds of the hull creak and groan all around. Your field of vision is restricted to only a few metres, the flickering lights that you have been growing accustomed to are few and far between, and strange noises constantly echo down the dingy tunnels.
Grath claps his hands together excitedly. "Well done! Trust me — you’ve won the better end of this bargain. I did attempt to retrieve the Cord, but my ship, the Deluge, crashed on Sacgrave on the return voyage. The mercenaries I hired have a retrieval beacon. If any of them survived, you should be able to find them using its frequency.” Grath pulls out a small dataslate and begins punching in commands rapidly. "I'm transferring you all the coordinates now." He stands, signalling the end your business discussions. "My lords," he bows. He then signals to his entourage and leaves. His followers follow closely behind, save for a few menacing scowls and snarls from the orks.
The servo skull buzzes and indicates that one of the locator beacons assigned to senior wardens is still active. It flashes a hologram of the ship and a blinking light reveals the location of the beacon. It seems one of the wardens (or at least what remains of him) is in the bilges. The servo skull also reminds you that its data is from the blueprint of the ship and shows no structural damage.
"Are my terms acceptable?" Grath puts forward, his impatience leaking through his smiling demeanor.
"No catch, my friends," Grath says while leaning forward in his seat. "I simply have an expensive piece of venture on my hands that is costing me more the longer I have this information, and I would very much like to get it off my hands." "As we are in Q'sal, I feel it is only appropriate to base my price in souls. I'm sure you will sacrifice many in the completion of this, and all I ask is you throw a few my way."
Danate opened the door, so Zadlu and the Deceiver can get in. And Adoris is fine (mostly), just a bit shaken.
Okay, seems things have ground to a bit of a halt. Are you guys confused as to what to do next?
Davila:
Pyurultide is one of the many worlds that drift through the Screaming Vortex. Placing dates on the events of the past is futile for a world so warp-infused, but—whether a day or a millennium ago—Pyurultide was a world locked in conflict. The gods Nurgle and Slaanesh fought for dominion over the educated and technologically advanced people of the planet.
Pyurultide has continents but no oceans. The gaps between land masses writhe with a sea of insects and vermin. Nurgle’s influence was strong along the coast where this foulness lapped against the land, and here he had many followers. But the inlanders built magnificent spires that climbed above the blighted land. Driven by the desire for perfection, they built ever grander and more terrible towers. At the height of the inlanders’ power it was said their chaotic structures ascended without human intervention, eventually penetrating some dark heaven, where they entrapped angels whose tears coated the horrible spires. At the centre of the inlanders’ spiralling sky empire was a dynasty of brilliant rulers, who held their people together through iron will and a horrible charisma. However, the Pox Tribes below eventually found a way to infect the flesh and then the loyalties of the high rulers. The instant that their hearts turned from Slaanesh, it is said the spiteful Prince of Desire smote their towers to ruin. The Pox Tribes consumed the survivors of the fall, and the Tyrant’s Cord—the symbol of the rulers’ dynasty—was lost. Now Pyurultide is consumed by the unending biological warfare of the Pox Tribes. Each tribe carries its own strain of contagion, which defines its culture like a patron saint. With religious fervour they cultivate even more virulent strains of their disease of choice, and then use it against neighbouring unbelievers. Still, in the shadows of hospice cities and the phlegmy whispers of the dying, the legend of the old sky empire lives on. The gilded remembrance of the Dark Princes’ reign only grows brighter the longer they live in disease and decay, but a return to Slaanesh’s ‘glory’ is hopeless as long as the Tyrant’s Cord is lost. If a leader were to emerge wielding the Cord, hundreds of thousands of Pox Warriors would follow him—in rebellion against the Plague Lord, or anywhere else the new Tyrant chose to lead. In fact, over the past millennia the Tyrant’s Cord has come to be synonymous with rulership on many worlds in the Vortex. He who could recover it would be known as a great leader. In addition, the Tyrant ’s Cord is suffused with warp-spawned energies and proves a great boon to the one who wears it. "The Tyrant's Cord was the symbol of rulership of the sky empires of Pyurultide before it was overrun by followers of the Plague Father. In the fall, the Cord was lost, but I have found it. Legends tell that he who bears the Cord could not only unite the fractious tribes of that forsaken planet, but would be destined to be a great ruler of men amongst the Screaming Vortex in its entirety." Grath grins and leans back into his seat. "I located the Cord and sent hired soldiers to retrieve it.My intent was to sell it to an aspiring warlord here in the Screaming Vortex. However, the ship carrying his hirelings, as well as the Cord, was caught in the Fifth Interstice." He sighs. His smile fractures in an obvious sign of frustration. "Unable to navigate the intersection of the Fifth Interstice and Eighth Transjunction, the ship’s sorcerer-navigator crashed the vessel on Sacgrave. I know better than to expect anyone actually capable of retrieving the Cord to do anything but keep it for himself. To that end, I have decided to sell the only piece of the venture I still have in my grasp: the location of the crash and therefore the location of the Cord." Grath relaxes and opens his palms towards you, his smile returning. "I know where the Tyrant’s Cord is, but hostile parties almost certainly stand between you and it."
Those of you partaking in the food, you find it quite good. Also, Grath does not seem intimidated in the least by your brusque demeanor. Grath’s smile seems to grow even larger, if possible. “Ah, yes. Right to business, then. I do like working with those who don't dally around and know what they want. I will be forward with you. The true matter is that one of my ventures has not gone as planned. I am looking to salvage what I can from the situation, thus I come to you. I think you may be able to turn my calamity to your advantage, if you’re willing. Tell me, have you ever heard of the Tyrant’s Cord?” His eyes flick between you, gauging your reactions.
Danate:
Danate, you notice that Adoris looks very weakened and somehow, oddly, less potent. Danate moves over to the controls, easily managing the simple system. The main hatches open with a hiss of escaping pressure.
As your transports enter through the warp energy surrounding the planet, a new message transmits to your ships. You are directed to one of the many star-docks surrounding the planet while the message plays. ++Greetings again, mighty lords. I sincerely thank you for acquiescing to my humble summons. You may find me in one of the fine dining establishments in the open market of the city of Surgub. I do look forward to meeting such magnificent personalities as yourselves in person.++ As your ships dock, your shuttles make ready for launch onto the sorcerers' world. According to your scans, Surgub is a vertical city composed of crystalline spires located on an island in the bay of the great river Crelix. Your shuttles land just outside the city proper, and you are escorted into the city by handfuls of handsome slaves. It does not take long to locate him. As always, Palmere Grath is smiling when you meet him. It is not the false smile of a salesman or the genuine smile of a friend. It is the self-satisfied pleasure of a man who savours every sweet breath of air and every step in his lacquered boots. He wears a plush velvet robe ornamented with polished bone. The robe has a long train, carried by an achingly beautiful human slave who trails behind him. Three ork bodyguards complete the procession, every inch of their battered and barbaric armour a stark contrast to Grath’s adornments. He sits alone at a table flanked by his entourage, picking at some meat while sipping from what you assume to be wine. "I shall be honest," he says as he sees you all enter. "I have had very little experience with your kind. Sit, sit... or... not. However it suits you, my lords. Do you eat? I hope I give no offense, but the legends of the astartes make you out to be quite superhuman, so I find myself at a sudden loss at what to expect."
When the heretek squeezes his way down the hatch into the room, he sees Adoris lying on the floor, drenched in sweat and breathing heavily. A quick glance over the equipment strewn about the floor reveals a bit of ammunition. He also sees the note Adoris found and the controls to open the main hatch.
Adoris feels more than hears something whisper in the back of his mind as well as the sudden manifestation of an extremely hostile presence.
Alright you heretics, time to let the galaxy burn.
++Greetings noble warriors! I hope this message finds you well. My name is Palmere Grath. You might have heard of me. If not, suffice it to say that I have heard of you. I am the master of a small merchant fleet that trades on both sides of the Great Warp Storms. I have something of great value to offer you and humbly request a meeting to discuss it. Meet with me upon the sorcerer’s world of Q’sal, and we shall discuss your furtures and fortunes.++
It is the 41st millennium. For more than a hundred centuries the Emperor has sat immobile on the Golden Throne of Earth. He is the master of mankind by the will of the gods, and master of a million worlds by the might of his inexhaustible armies. He is a rotting carcass writhing invisibly with power from the Dark Age of Technology. He is the Carrion Lord of the Imperium for whom a thousand souls are sacrificed every day, so that he may never truely die. Yet even in his deathless state, the Emperor continues his eternal vigilance. Mighty battlefleets cross the daemon-infested miasma of the warp, the only route between distant stars, their way lit by the Astronomican, the psychic manifestation of the Emperor's will. Vast armies give battle in His name on uncounted worlds. Greatest amongst his soldiers are the Adeptus Astartes, the Space Marines, bio-engineered super-warriors. Their comrades in arms are legion: the Imperial Guard and countless planetary defense forces, the ever-vigilant Inquisition and the tech-priests of the Adeptus Mechanicus to name only a few. But for all their multitudes, they are barely enough to hold off the ever-present threat from aliens, heretics, mutants - and worse. To be a man in such times is to be one amongst untold billions. It is to live in the cruellest and most bloody regime imaginable. This is a tale of those times. Forget the power of technology and science, for so much has been forgotten, never to be re-learned. Forget the promise of progress and understanding, for in the grim dark future there is only war. There is no peace amongst the stars, only an eternity of carnage and slaughter, and the laughing of thirsting gods. Yet You are Space Marines, formerly the Imperium’s supreme warriors. Genetically enhanced and engineered with special implants to be the ultimate soldier, you are far stronger, tougher—and deadlier—than any human being. Where formerly you cleansed the galaxy with holy bolter and purifying flamer, you are now a vile threat to everything the Emperor strived to build—the most loathsome and deadly warriors ever to assail the Imperium. Across dozens of worlds as the banners of traitors are held high and the galaxy burns, a single shout of defiance echoes across the Imperium. DEATH TO THE FALSE EMPEROR!
@Adoris: No, not yet. At a higher PR you could. You do, however, find something interesting in one of the guard's pockets as you were searching for ammunition. You find ancient parchment records that indicate two things. First, command keys were issued to several senior wardens, and second, such individuals were implanted with locator beacons. The servo-skull could probably pick up its signal.
@Retias: The alias for Cythos.
Waiting on Retias to get his alias completed. Since we're all done and he has the info on there. I'm kicking this off Saturday.
Once up, Adoris easily finds the hatch, and, due to his lithe physique, he manages to fit through the narrow space. Inside the tower Adoris finds the ancient corpses of the Prison Hold guards, little more than skeletons in uniforms, but he also discovers weapons and ammunition. Most of the weapons are in a sad state of decay . However, he can scrounge ammunition. He also finds the control panel to the sealed hatches.
@Davila: Don't forget to include your Infamy on your character page. Also, you've got your starting acquisitions. You get a number = to your Inf bonus each one with a value of -10 or higher (higher as into the positives).
@Retias: I assume they will as long as he's a former Iron Hand. Unless you meant the Iron Warriors. Took me a while to keep them strait when I first started getting into 40k. @Edhem: Glad to see the background. Love the Night Lords. @Regulus: I have a friend at home who is debating on building a CSM army when the new codex comes out. He wants to do Emperor's Children, but likewise prefers their pre-Heresy colour scheme. @Hrask: Nice idea. Very fitting for a Chosen. FYI, we might be having a 5th join us. As to whether or not he'll play a psyker I can't say.
You find an emergency hatch located close to the tower's summit. Problem is, the chain bridge won't go any higher. To reach it, at least one of you must climb up there and search around where it meets the ceiling.
The machine is old, and slightly damaged, but it works. It just rattles and bucks more than enough to make you uncomfortable. Eventually, Zadlužený manages to get the bridge down. As you move up to the Warden's Tower, you get an ominous sense of foreboding. Not so much from any supernatural sense, the Tower is just that big (and it's a long fall down). Once high enough, you feels your hopes once again plummet as you find all the entrances to the Tower sealed.
Like the new character, Hector. Very cool, Hrask. But if you cast off the colours of the Astral Claws, what colours are you wearing now? And I agree with Hector and Regulus on this. Let's keep the party conflict to a minimum. I stated this in my other game, but I'll go back over it here. A little conflict is practically built into the game via Tertiary Objectives. And expecting you all to agree on everything would be more than a little dull. But let's remember that you are a team and need each others' help. By the way, Retias. I checked the FF forums, and Servo Arms require the Mechadendrite Training (Weapon) to use, not (Utility).
That's fine, we haven't started yet. What are you thinking?
Oy! Begone Lackey of the Corpse-Emperor! You'll find the heretics here far more likely to put up a fight for you than the mortals in the other.
@Hector: Looks cool so far. Waiting to see the background. @Retias: Scratch what I said earlier, here's my take on a Chaos Space Marine Techmarine: TECHMARINE
Starting Trait: Mechanicus Implants Starting Talents: Technical Knock, Mechadendrite Use (Utility) or Mechadendrite Use (Weapon), Lesser Minion of Chaos (must be servitor or servo-skull) or Cold Hearted Wounds: 15+D5 Gear: Servo-Arm or Utility Mechadendrite or Ballistic Mechadendrite with Legion Bolt Pistol. Special Ability: Traitor to the Omnissiah
Also, Retias, use the build for csm techmarine (A), but with the talents list for csm techmarine (B).
There is indeed a control panel up there featuring several runes and levers.
Very cool, Regulus. Don't worry, you'll get the chance to acquire the sonic weaponry soon enough. That's awesome, Elipses. I think the Astral Claws were cooler than the Red Corsairs anyway. Do you still wear the old colours? Though I assume you removed all the lions and aquillas from your armour for the much more fashionable 8-pointed stars. Also, a note for those of you following my other BC thread, though they're both the Hand of Corruption (As I don't have the time to write my own material worth a damn, that's why I do PbP in the first place), they'll have different introductions. I'd like each of you to have at least passing familiarity with at least one of your fellow heretics.
@Scotty: I guess that looks good, but I don't have my books in front of me to check it out. Excited to see how the noise marine works out. @Hector: That'll be interesting. As far as I'm aware there aren't many sorcerers in the Alpha Legion as they prefer to be more subtle. Looking forward to seeing what you do with it. @Retias: That looks like a fine techmarine to me, but like I said, I don't have my books to look over it with a fine-tooth comb (Which any house rules should be IMHO). Other than that, the idea of a corrupted techmarine sounds fine to me. I've always thought they should have them in the battles game. @Elipses: Love the Astral Claws. Will you be one of the Red Corsairs or still consider yourself a member of the Astral Claws?
@Retias: To me, I just can't wrap my head around the two working together, more from a fluff perspective than anything else. Might we make a compromise and allow you to play the heretek archetype but with the underlying csm characteristics and benefits? A corrupted techmarine perhaps? Also I find that this conversation would be much better placed in the Discussion Thread.
Welcome to the Barracks, preparation zone for your imminent Black Crusade against the Imperium of Man.
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