"Any of you been on a drop before?"
"Brother, noy yet. This will be a first the God-Emperor willing."
"Sebek, the purser, told me that you have something that would make the 'drop' easier. Is that true?"
"Weren't you paying attention?" He holds up the box and points at it. "Sedatives. Make you less likely to see your last meal again on the trip down." He opens the box and hands Burgos one pill. "Anyone else want some?"
Reluctantly, Justine holds out her hand and takes a pill from the grimy officer.
Ivaanov also holds out his hand for the sedative. He wasn't sure it was a good idea, but then vomiting into the hard wired mechanical system that stretched across the lower part of his face was even less of an option for the tech.
"Any of you been on a drop before?"
"..I have," the guard answers. It wasn't an experience you easily forgot. Nothing quite like feeling your stomach rush up to meet your head. Nevertheless Gaia shakes her head when offered the sedatives.
"I'll be fine." Hopefully. It would make the drop go easier true, but she didn't like the idea of going down without her senses sharp, even if he did claim it would be for the drop duration only. The Uplifting Primer rule #44 stated that a guardsman should be aware at all times, afterall.
Deckar holds his hand out, palm forward . . .
"It is unwise to lower the mind's guard, lest what dwells within seek to escape."
"Good luck.", says the officer as the door to the ship closes behind you. As you all buckle yourselves into your seats, a mechanical voice comes in over the vox channels. "*bzzt* 5... 4... 3... 2... 1. Shuttlecraft descent beginning." You hear the hiss of the bay doors closing, then the craft lurches sickeningly as it moves into the vacuum of space. The engines start with a deafening roar, and the descent begins.
Ivaanov felt the world fall awy below him.Parts of his body he hadn't thought about in over a decade suddenly made themselves known to the tehcnographer.
"Great Machine god protect me he tried to say over teh turbulent descent.
Justine feels her stomach rising toward her throat and is sure that she's gonna throw up when suddenly, the sedative kicks in. 1d100=28
Burgos pukes his guts out as he experience for the first time a 'drop'.
Deckard grips the secure belts as the drop pod lurches downward, eyes locked forward. Far from the most gut wrenching experience he's endured . . .
After a deafening half-hour, the transport finally touches down. *bzzt* We have now landed in Port Suffering. As the hatch doors hiss open, the hot air rushes in, the sun dazzling after so many weeks spent in a ship's hold. As your vision clears, you get your first look at Iocanthos.
Through the hatch, you see a scorched landing field, broken ground blackened from innumerable shuttle and lighter engines. Encircling the landing area is a high wire fence and looming over that, the brooding metal-clad walls of the settlement of Port Suffering. The air smells foul, of chemicals, propellants and cleaning agents, but beneath the odours one would expect of such a place, there is the faint and sweet smell of iron.
As you leave, you can see dozens of men working on the shuttle, but of more-immediate importance is the blotchy-faced official in dusty robes and gaudy gold chains followed by two large men with re-breathers casually holding shotguns. "Greetings, travelers. Welcome to Port Suffering. What is your business on Iocanthos?"
"The blessing of the one and true God-Emperor be upon." Burgos makes the sign of the aquila.
"Before we confide in you, perhaps, you might want to introduce yourself first, hmmm?"
"How long are- oh, um, I'm Kerred Smyk."
Ivaanov loooked around the landing port with interest. The smells of the machinery and high octane fuels were a balm to the technographer, reminding him heavily of his time with the machine cult. Certainly they were better than the foul smells of vomit and inttestinal juices that he was still trying to evacuate from his rebreather and vox system.
The priest was talking to the local beaurocrat, and Ivaanov was happy for him to continue. For some reason the tech didn't seem to be able to communicate effectively with others.
Justine eyes the official. Could this man be the Inquisition agent whom they are suppose to meet? Probably not. Inquisition agents don't strike her as the type needing escorts. This is probably just a functionary doing his job. In that case, she'll let the priest take care of him and keep an eye out for the real agent.
The drop was, as always, wholly unpleasant, but fortunately Gaia's previous experiences stood her in good stead. She had been as sick as a dog the first time she fell out of the sky. You never quite got completely used to it, but you got used to it enough.
After the shuttle had landed, the guard unbuckled herself before rising from her seat. Almost instinctively, she checked that all of her equipment was fine before leaving the ship.
As Burgos steps up to talk to the official, Gaia stays back slightly, watching the two shotgun-armed guards with some interest. You could tell a lot from a planet by the way its defence forces carried themselves, afterall.
"How long are- oh, um, I'm Kerred Smyk."
"Ah. Mr. Smyk. Pleased to meet you. May I call you Kerred? Of course I can. I don't know why anyone would deny a member of the Ecclesiarchy anything when the God-Emperor himself vouch safes our presence. Hahaha."
"I am pleased to let you know that I and my well-armed and highly trained companions are here to spread the light of the Emperor, blessed be His Name," Burgos makes the sign of the aquila, "You're supposed to say 'Amen', Kerred."
Burgos then circles Smyk as a raptor over its prey as he asks the following questions:
"Now when was the last time you were at service, Kerred? Never."
"Have you read the scriptures? No."
"How about your tithes? Nevermind."
Burgos then gives Mr. Smyk an gentle elbow nudge and conspiratorially whisper to him, "Don't worry I won't tell anyone of your ah backsliding. I see that the Emperor has need of your efficiency."
"Now may we go? Of course we can." Burgos waves to his companions and cheerfully smiles at Smyk and his cohorts.
"Uh, amen, um, but I, just a few more... questions..." Kerred stands there in mild disbelief as his guards shake their heads. Fortunately for him, a distraction fast approaches. A tiny, battered cherubim servitor has floated to you on it's metallic wings, holding a piece of paper. It offers it out to anyone who wishes to take it.
"Um, excuse me Kerred. I think this is for me." Burgos takes the piece of paper and reads its contents.
"Hmmm. It seems that we are urgently required elsewhere. We shall continue with the questions later, Kerred. I am sure that we can make a very good case for status of your immortal soul."
While Burgos is busy talking to the beaurocrat, Ivaanov trys to take the piece of paper from the cherubrim. Before he can get there however, the priest snakes out his hand and takes the message. Ivaanov instead busies himself by mentally taking stock of the functions the servitor drone has.
"Curious design" he mutters to himself.
Burgos:
"Please follow the cherubim; it will show you the way to my home. I await the pleasure of meeting you.
-Aristarchus"
The servitor continues to float in place.
"I see. Valiant comrades, we follow the cherub." Burgos points at the servitor.
"Again, it is nice to meet you Kerred but we really have to go. See you at the service. I'll be counting on it. Bring your friends too."
Burgos and the others follow the Cherub ....
Justine walks briskly to pull even to Burgos. Assuming he's willing, Justine takes the note and reads it for herself.
"That was some fine talking right there. But next time, try looking a little presentable." She hands Burgos her hankie to wipe the last few drips of throw up off his robes. "And I want that after you're done cleaning it" *Wink
- The players don't have to make all the rolls themselves. I thought the constitution roll could have been taken care of in one swoop by the DM. In certain situations where the rolls cannot be predicted ahead of time, such as combat, the players can make them.
- Should there be definite posting times? For example, the DM will definitely post MON, WED, and SAT by 10PM. Of course, you can post as often as you like. But with definite times, the players will have an idea of when to check back.
- If, for some reason, we're in a tense situation (such as combat) and somebody hasn't posted for a certain amount of time (such as 3 days), should that character be automated? Can one of the other players take control or should the DM? I think in tense situation it is especially important to move things along.
What do you all think?
Burgos hands the paper and takes the hankie. "Nice perfume here."
Ivaanov follows the group out of the landing zone, using the time to get his body used to the gravity well of this planet, as opposed to the aretficil field they had been living in for the last few weeks.
You travel down the ramshackle streets of Port Suffering. The buildings are a combination of prefabricated metal sheets, brick and stone blocks, all baking in the sun. The streets are crowded with workers, their faces hard and their cover-alls coated in dust. You can still smell the sweet iron scent of the Ghostfire even over the stench of the crowd you struggle through.
Burgos, Gaia:
Burgos' curiousity is piqued by the strange man's apperance. He whispers to his comrades, "Do not look around but we are being observed by a man with a blue and white flame tattoo on his face."
Justine whispers back, "Is that Aristachus? If not, should we take care of him?"
Justine whispers back, "Is that Aristachus? If not, should we take care of him?"
"No. The cherub is moving away from the man and we might lose our guide."
"Is this thing smart enough to wait for us? Or is it programmed to assume that we'll follow it w/out stoping? Maybe Ivaanov can tell us?"
"Ivaanov, the lady Justine's query for your consideration and appropriate action, please."
Given the unusul design of this servitor () Ivaanov responds to the question "I am unfamiliar with this particular design. We could of course ask it o wait, however the real question is howdo we then get it to continue on its orginal path again. Often these are programmed with a specific key word o set of instructions. Once we interrupt that sequence, I may not be able to return its programming to the original."
He looks at his companions, witing to see if they want him to try and stop the little servitor. He certainly like to get a closer look at it.
Justine spreads her arms in a sign of resignation, "Oh well, I rather continue on than accidentally mess up this little thing. If that guy actually bothers us, we can always take care of him later."
The cherub ducks down into one of the alleys, and you follow. The alleys are dark and dirty, but at least you haven't had to push through the crowd. As you come around the next corner, there is a half-naked man with wild hair and a bule-and-white tattoo of flame on his face shouting out insane ramblings that you can barely understand, much less make sense of.
Burgos:
Justine:
"Is that the same guy we saw a while back?" Burgos rubs his eyes just to check he wasn't seeing double.
He mutters, "I wonder who this Crow Father is. I have to do some research, hmmm. I hate that."
Nevertheless, Burgos decides that seeing two people with the distinctive facial tattoo, whatever they may be doing, is too much of a coincidence. He reaches under his robes and arms his autopistol. He looks at his companions, "I suggest you guys do the same and prepare for trouble."
He also unsheathes his blade and makes a few practice swings, hoping to discourage any ill-intent.