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Riktor is intended to balance between his training as a Mortalitasi (Offensive magic, mostly Entropy based), his desire to help (Creation magic, healing and buffing) and keeping his pretty skin intact (self defence spells). At the moment, he's not too skilled at anything outside of Magic and Healing.
"It would seem they are on the floor above us," the Tech Priest replied. "I'm afraid I've spent most of my life planetside. However, logic suggest three choices here - attempt to follow them and capture them, attempt to work out how they plan to move to the saviour pods and ambush them, or attempt to discern the most likely pod and ambush them there, perhaps by rigging the pod to trap them and refuse to launch." Riktor shrugged. "If it's spirit can be convinced to do something so against it's function."
"I would recommend against splitting our forces," Riktor added. "We may have need of all our assets at either location. Better to ensure the best chance of success at each and move to the next than risk failure at both. As for my choice...I recommend the Gellar Fields. If they fail the Magos, Blessed Be They in the Omnissiah's Gaze, won't matter."
Sorry I'm being slow. Now I have a chest infection. Being well blessed by Grandfather Nurgle, I've had to nurse my many lung-babies to adulthood, but should be able to post soon-ish.
Riktor looked from the Battle Sister to the machine. "If you believe we have time," he said with a small shrug, "You may certainly attempt the rights and ceremony."
The Tech Priest looked over the machine and tried to access the data-port via his eletro-graft.
"I am not very familiar with Starship design," Riktor replied, "But given how high a priority the Gellar Field is in both terms of energy draw from the engines and maintenance I would assume it would be near the Primary Enginerium."
Gathering his axe back up, Riktor moved onto the elevator and waited to give the machine the benediction of movement.
Nodding solemnly, Riktor handed the weapon out to Simmins. "Take this, bounty of the Omnissiah, Servant of Man. Know it fights alongside you. Guard it's soul against the foes of manind as it guards yours, and be served by it as you serve it. In Nominae Omnissiah."
Reaching down, Riktor murmured, "Blessed Omnissiah, let these components be blessed once more by faithful service. Guide there machine spirits in the defence of Man. Deus Ex Mechanicus, En Nominae Omnissiah." With a squelching noise he pulled the twin auto-gun from the servitor, rubbing it down with a piece of clothes to clean the gore and soot from it.
Shaking his head, Riktor pulled the ammo drum instead. "I may be able to free the second, given time, but the heat has fused it to the servitor's structure. I leave it to you if you wish for the second weapon. Would anyone care for the use of this one?"
Riktor moved forward, his time on Volg allowing him to ignore the hideous smell of roasted flesh and boiled preserving fluids. He moved his eyes across the roasted carcasses, assessing the damage as best he could through the soot.
Belli Cannes (Dogs of War)
And my personal favourite...Promtu Libera (Freely Disposed of, easily discarded Note: I haven't practiced Latin in years and may be a bit naff.
Yeah, I have mechanically damage induced sciatica (the muscles in my back were torn, scarred and now press on the nerves into my legs when they swell) so on occasion I have the owies. I'm back at work for the most part now though. And yeah, the Lord Inquisitor keeps looking more and more awesome. Which is why I keep worrying that it'll end up getting the same treatment as Damnatus...Games Workshop seems really determined to alienate fans these last few years.
"Servitors!" the Tech-Priest bellowed through his augmented vox grill, "Know the blessings of Servitude to the Machine God! 01010000 01101111 01110111 01100101 01110010 00100000 01100100 01101111 01110111 01101110 00100000 01101110 01101111 01110111 00101110!"
Riktor shook his head. "The Heretek has corrupted the machine spirits. It'll take some time and meditation to find the correct incatnation to purify them. In the mean time, aim for the flesh." It was easier to extract and place the components in a fresh body than it was to repair the form and spirit of a damaged machine.
Sorry, my back went 'pop'. I haven't been on much since. Posting now. May the Omnissiah bless this dice roller... EDIT: He did not.
Depends on how the Heretek programmed them, I suppose. 'Obey me and only me' is to make things awkward, and my order to run a self diagnostic was ignored. I'll try again when the handlers are down.
Doh, shows my level of reading comprehension right now.
Watching the machines burn pained the Tech-Priest. But fire could cleanse away the corrupt flesh and leaves the components purified, so long as they didn't burn hot enough. And the Omnissiah had created the dreadful algebra of necessity - if the Heretek was not stopped, more machines would be turned from His service. Riktor fired another hail of lasbolts at the Heretek.
Again, the bolts flew well wide of the mark.
Eyes narrowing at the approaching party, Riktor focused his attention on the fallen Mechanicus behind the servitors. For him to have taken control of blessed servitors, servants of the Omnissiah, away from the rightful dominion of the Adeptus Mechanicus was Tech-Heresy, and Riktor felt the strong need for retribution. However, the servitors were well armed. Riktor did not dare approach them to try and locate a date port he could interact with. Instead, he tried something basic, to render them a non-issue until he could clense there spirits and soothe the agony of there forced servitude. "Obey the words of the Omnissiah, blessed in His works! Know His Wisdom and obey! 01010011 01101000 01110101 01110100 00100000 01100100 01101111 01110111 01101110 00100000 01100001 01101110 01100100 00100000 01110010 01110101 01101110 00100000 01110011 01100101 01101100 01100110 00101101 01100100 01101001 01100001 01100111 01101110 01101111 01110011 01110100 01101001 01100011 00100001." As he did that, Riktor placed his axe down and opened up on the Heretek with his LasCarbine on Semi-Auto.
However, his attention was focused on his command, and the burst of las fire went wide.
Did you remember to burn the blessed incenses, and speak the Rite of Activation, before starting your PC GM? It resolves nine out of ten computer problems.
"My rank in the eyes of the Machine God is Technographer, may He rain his blessings upon this humble servant, Deus Machina." Riktor replied as he studied the panel, "But for simplicity, my given name is Riktor Van Mander. Riktor will be a sufficiently efficient form of address." The Tech-Priest glanced over at the boxes for a moment. "Without knowledge of what we are to face and the weapons to be brought to bare against us, it is a guess...but to my thinking it would be an advantage to have cover, even cover that can be penetrated, rather than be a sitting avian. I think most crates will provide at least some protection from smaller arms fire." There wasn't much that would stand up to, say, a heavy bolter.
Could be worse. Could be Hello Kitty Marines...or the Black and White Space Marine on his Black and White bike.
"Alas, I am no Magos," Riktor added with a shrug. "Just a humble servant of the Machine God, May He Reigh Over all Technology. Now, let us see this panel..." Riktor moved forward and examined the panel for signs of a Data Port, mumuring the Incantation to Appease The Spirit as he did so in a low voice. The panel was of a model he was not entirely familiar, but he should be able to divine the basics... -
I do. I have some around here.
I dunno, everyone abusive around tech until murder machines show up, then it's all "Help us tech priest, we don't want to be blended into Soylents Viridian." Just think about that next time you throw that ipad on the couch...
System Error - Attempting to restart all higher cortical functions. Error. Attempting to access secondary systems - success. 01000001 01101100 01101100 00100000 01010000 01110010 01100001 01101001 01110011 01100101 00100000 01110100 01101111 00100000 01110100 01101000 01100101 00100000 01001101 01100001 01100011 01101000 01101001 01101110 01100101 00100000 01000111 01101111 01100100 00101110. The Servant Riktor Van Mander shall rise. With a slightly mechanical sounding groan Riktor rose from the corridor floor, reading back the error log that had apparently shut down his higher cortical functions for a time. It was only with the Machine God's blessings that the back ups had kicked in. The last thing he recalled was checking on the Inquistorial transport as others argued over some small, unimportant matters. A gas had filled the chamber and despite the Respirator Unit all Tech-Priests had the gas had eventually sent him to the floor. His log suggested a strong cranial impact had dislodged a primary processor, and the machine spirit within now brooded over it's mistreatment. Fortunately the back up was eager to serve the Omnissiah, or Riktor might have stopped breathing. Focusing his eyes and ignoring the throbbing headache no doubt caused by the machine spirit's anger, the Tech-Priest located a locker holding his additional equipment, including his axe and carbine. Hefting the axe - cunningly engraved with the symbol of the Machine Cult by his own hand - and taking some additional food stuffs to nurture the fleshy part of him, Riktor set off into the ship. All vessels, blessed in the sight of the Omnissiah, had a feeling and a rhythm to them. The beat of this ship felt wrong, like essential maintenance and prayers had been allowed to slip. It was like the knowledge someone was watching, back on Volg Hive, when you had no allies... Hurrying through the corridors he eventually heard low murmuring, and followed. A compartment full of people - the ones bickering earlier - met his gaze as he squinted in the light. "There appears to be an error," the Tech-Priest announced, "I have no idea what is happening."
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